#but its lyrics are actually eloquent

[cherrykamado]

🍒 hehe

HIHI MY LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

send a 🍒, get a song!

[alchemistc]

Eddie practices his arguments with Steve.

The thing is -

Here's the thing. It's not that he's expecting an argument. So far every time either one of them have been irritated with one another, or pissed off about something, they usually just, like, talk about it and shit. Healthy-like, which is -

Totally fucking weird for Eddie My-Parents-Fought-As-A-Love-Language Munson and Steve Still-Figuring-Out-Its-Okay-To-Be-Loved Harrington. It's weird, it is, and Eddie can't help but wonder if Steve is just bottling shit up until it explodes out of him and he realizes that this thing they're doing just isn't worth it anymore.

So.

So Steve does this thing, right?

This thing where he rolls his jaw and sometimes it pops and it makes Eddie want to stick a curly straw up his nose and scramble his own brains. And he's such a fucking neat freak that every time he's over, he ends up rearranging Eddie's room - not even in purpose, just. He likes to touch things, and Eddie gets it, he does, but touching things usually leads to picking things up leads to setting them back down and before Eddie's had time to look up, Steve has swept empty beer cans into the trash and lined up Eddie's models in a neat row like they're troops readying for battle and since he's like a war buff they're always lined up like a little battalion which is cute but also frustrating as hell because - because Eddie's chaos is organized and now he can't find his fucking lyric journal with the song he's very much not ready for people to see, or know about, or -

The point. The point is Eddie has been gearing up to talk to Steve about it for three days now and he's now at the stage where he practices. Works out the scenarios, muddles through possibilities, tries to anticipate every way it could go tits up.

He's never - Steve is most of his firsts, and he knows it's dumb and romantic but he'd like Steve to be all of his lasts, too, and so what if that means he's pacing the length of the trailer (all the while perfecting his Steve-voicr, which has been a tough one to nail but he feels like he's getting there. He's smarter and more eloquent than he lets on, is Steve.) and arguing with himself. Resetting, back to the start, working through a disastrous turn where Steve accuses Eddie of cheating on him (nope, reset, Steve's well aware Eddie wouldn't, cut that from the options).

"And seriously, Eddie, how could you think I'd do that shit to you, you know -."

"What the hell?"

Eddie whirls.

Mike Wheeler is standing in his living room, staring at Eddie like he's grown a second head. Which. Shit. They haven't actually, like, told anyone that they're...doing whatever it is they're doing (There's things Eddie wants to call it, but he hasn't brought them up yet because they're terrifying and super fucking telling and even though he's pretty sure he and Steve are on the same page he doesn't want to presume) so the kids don't know. No one except Robin knows, and she's states away and busy so.

"What the hell right back, Wheeler, what are you doing here?"

"I left my chem textbook here last night. You said I could come get it."

And - sure, he definitely had, but he'd sort of been staring at the hollow where Steve's neck and shoulder met and imagining biting it when he said it, so -

"So you broke into my house?"

"The door was unlocked."

"So you walked uninvited INTO MY HOUSE?" And he's maybe hamming up the annoyance as cover, but Wheeler just stares at him.

"Are you practicing breaking up with Steve?" Wheeler asks without preamble, with zero inflection, not even a quirk of his brow, and Eddie -

Flounders, is a generous term for it. Really what he does is shriek, and cackle, and then cover it up with the weirdest laugh either of them have ever heard which covers nothing at all. "What are - why would you - what makes you think - listen, Michael, you can't just break into people's homes and accuse them of - of - what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Of having really terrible taste in men, Eddie, where's my textbook?"

"I don't fucking know, Wheeler, Steve rearranges shit all the time so who the hell knows where he would have -."

"It's probably on the bookshelf, then," Mike says, and then squints. "Are you...practicing arguing with Steve?"

"How do you even -?"

"Neither one of you is subtle."

"Shut up, Wheeler."

"If that's how you talk to Steve it's no wonder you have to practice your arguments."

"I'm not - you're infuriating."

Mike squares him with a look that reminds Eddie of when he's calculating hit points and strategizing his next move. He frowns. Sighs. "I have like ten minutes before I have to leave. Steve doesn't think you're cheating on him, so let's start from the top."

---

"The kids know," Eddie tells Steve, fingers shifting in Steve's hair, and Steve's lashes flash as he looks up from Eddie's lap. Mike had been - well, Wheeler might be half a decade younger but he'd been pretty instrumental in helping Eddie nail down the right approach to "Please stop cleaning up my messes you're ruining everything." so another non-argument is in the books, and Steve had looked confused about it but he'd agreed to try not to move shit around at least.

("I'm still cleaning up all the trash, though, you live like a goblin."

"It's hot that you know what a goblin is, baby."

"Nerd.")

"Are you...okay with that?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

It's not that he doesn't want to answer, it's just.

Okay he doesn't want to answer. Jesus Christ, he'd used Mike goddamn Wheeler as his Steve stand in to practice an argument that hadn't happened and he's still scared to call Steve his -

"I... don't really know. What to tell them." And that's - shit, not what he meant to say, Jesus.

"What do you mean?"

Steve crinkles his nose, and Eddie hates how goddamn cute it is, because he really wants to just, like, boop the tip of it and then suck Steve off but -

Where's Mike Wheeler when he needs him?

("If you ever tell Steve about this I'll tell Will to TPK your party for the next ten campaigns."

"Why would I tell Steve I'm helping you save your relationship?"

"Brownie points. So you can hold it over Henderson's head. Blackmail."

"I used to be terrified of you, but you're actually super lame, honestly."

"Preaching to the choir, my friend.")

"I mean, what...what do we tell them we...are?"

"Are you freaking out about calling me your boyfriend?"

"...no."

He shifts, and Eddie's fingers slip through the strands of Steve's hair as he shuffles, scoots, sits up and twists to face Eddie.

"I am, right? I mean...you want me to be?"

Eddie hasn't practiced this conversation, because - because it's presumptuous, because it felt sort of like jinxing it, because -

"Yeah. Duh. Of course I - shit. Yeah. Yes."

Steve's smile is bright and a little knowing. "I have a confession."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it."

"Trust me, you want to."

"Okay fine," Eddie tells him, eyes on Steve's hand as he slots their fingers together. Eddie hooks his pinkie along the edge of Steve's sleeve. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

"I'm actually kind of glad they already know. I've been trying to figure out how to tell them for a while. I've been, like - creating scenarios in my head to try to figure out how they're going to take it."

There's - okay, so Eddie's thinking a lot of things, right at this moment, like how Steve apparently also creates mind-scenarios to play out before a situation happens, and how they might want to test out their creativity in other areas, actually, and that derails his whole train of thought for a moment, but "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you been trying to figure out how to tell them?"

Eddie's not insecure, exactly, but he is a big fan of knowing what people he cares about think of him and how often they think of him and -

"I mean, since, like, the first time I kissed you?"

Eddie is stupid crazy about Steve Harrington. He's fully fucking feral for this man, honestly, it's dumb. Absolutely ridiculous.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie tells him, and the tips of Steve's ears are pink.

"I know," he says, with a smarmy little grin because Eddie had admitted (under duress, and screw anyone who doesn't think a naked Steve Harrington in your lap is duress) he'd been obsessed with Harrison Ford for like a full year in his tweens, and Steve takes every opportunity to remind Eddie he knows.

"I'd also very much like to circle back to you creating scripts in your mind about telling the kids about us."

"Henderson's always a nightmare, I swear to god."

"We gotta teach him some humility."

"He respects you more than he respects me, you teach him."

"You gonna say it back?"

"Well not now," Steve says, and Eddie wants to bite him.

---

"I love you," Steve says, while Dustin and Mike and Max argue about who knew first.

Eddie hasn't practiced this one. "I know," he says, and Steve's brow quirks when Dustin catches the exchange and groans.

[tokiwarcube]

general dating hcs for nathan? (both sfw and nsfw, if u want!)

Thank you for waiting -- I had a lot of fun with this! It ended up getting longer than I expected, so NS/FW will be posted separate (already written, just splitting for accessibility.) Thank you again for the request, enjoy! <3 Gender-neutral reader.

Skwisgaar HERE ; Pickles HERE ; Charles HERE

Nathan Explosion is a man who is deeply compassionate, but has difficulty showing it. He cares so much, but he’s hesitant to show that side of himself for fear of not seeming brutal.

That being said, he does still crave a relationship. Maybe he himself doesn’t know how badly he wants something serious, something more than a distraction or a fling with a groupie. The full extent of his longing is kept deep under wraps, perhaps even from himself, for a long time. Maybe you’re already in a relationship, or maybe he’s still pining over you, but he does realize how badly he wants something serious with you, eventually.

And when he does? Oh, baby. You really do get to see a whole separate side of himself, and its one that you really, really like.

Despite the eloquent lyricism of Dethklok’s later albums, Nathan is not that eloquent on the fly. Communication is something that’s worked on slowly over time — “I love you” and “I’m sorry” might not come overnight, nevermind praise or reassurance... but he gets there. In the meantime, you can expect some more Nathan-typical compliments, in the form of brutal lyrics about how fucking metal you are. He never holds his tongue in that regard.

He usually sleeps on his back (it helps with the back pain that comes with his stature… and the headbanging… and hunching over all the time), with you tucked into his side or sprawled over his front. Either way, make sure you do what you need to do before laying down with him, because he cuddles with a vice grip. It’s not that he doesn’t know his own strength — he does! He just likes to use it to his advantage.

Thankfully, he is very pleasant to cuddle with — he makes you feel so safe. Strong and warm with just the right amount of give beneath your fingertips, you’ll find yourself cursing your alarm clock each and every morning. He’ll let you up if you ask (a few times,) but believe me, he will grumble about it. He’s a complete "kicked puppy," if said puppy was a full grown mastiff.

Although if it’s been a particularly long day (or if he’s drunk), he might just come in and lay on you, face pressed into your stomach or neck with his arms wrapped around your middle. You are highly encouraged to run your fingers through your hair at this time. If you don’t, he might just ask… albeit in not so many words.

“Can you do that thing that you do? You know, the uh, thing.”

He’s surprisingly religious about repainting his nails, and at some point, you’ve taken over the mantle on this routine. He’s loathe to admit it, but he loves the way his hand looks in yours, cradled so delicately.

Quality time is absolutely one of Nathan’s biggest love languages, and being such a busy man, much of that time is spent in parallel play. Just working on your own respective tasks and sharing space together, with the occasional summoning of attention to run a concept or lyric by you. Some people might think that these “dates” are only out of circumstance, but he secretly really loves and needs them. He treasures every moment spent with you, and they remind him that you actually love being around him, too. You actually like Nathan, not just the lead singer of Dethklok.

(As a side note... It doesn't go unnoticed that you’re one of the only people he actually wants real feedback from. He respects your opinion a lot. The boys have started begging to have you in the recording room, just to keep him from deleting their re-re-re-records.)

Hate to say it, but Nathan does indeed get jealous. He likes to claim that he’d "never let some jackoff piss him off,” but after the whole Trindle situation? He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insecure. It doesn’t help that headlines have such a love-hate relationship with him — it’s not easy, being subjected to constant criticism from atop the world’s pedestal. It’s not a severe, relationship-ruining jealousy — he does trust you, genuinely — but he will… loom, at parties. Talk with him later, tell him about all the little things you love about him.

As for the boys… they just love to fuck with him. This goes for double if you were friends with everyone prior. Although by that point, you know well enough that everyone just loves to piss each other off. Make sure you include him in shenanigans, and he’ll be right as rain.

Also, PDA? PDA! Enough said. He has absolutely zero shame in front of the camera, and isn’t afraid to let the world know you’re together. He’ll tone it down if you really want it, but at the very least, he likes to have a hand on you. If there’s any space to wrap a hand around your waist, then he will. And if not? Someone better fucking move.

He has this thing where he just likes to grip, to hold. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him restless, but he does subconsciously give little massages when cuddling. Something about the way your body gives beneath his hands just feels right, to him. And unsurprisingly, this applies to makeouts, too.

On that note, kissing Nathan is an absolutely transcendent experience. He’s overwhelming in the best way possible, with every thought and sensation crying Nathan, Nathan, Nathan.

Despite being the least-talkative member of Dethklok, he is surprisingly vocal when making out with him. His voice drops even further, vibrations rumbling against your chest. Sometimes its murmured praise, sometimes its questions on whether or not you want to bail from the event, sometimes it's just quiet groans. Either way, the soothing growl leaves you feeling heady.

And despite his fast-paced lifestyle, he actually really likes doing “regular jackoff shit” with you. And sure, he probably wouldn’t be caught dead out in public without you, but it feels special when you’re by his side. Put his hair up, take a few Klokateers, and hit the town — local metal bands, coffee shops, movies… it’s all on the table!

And even through all of the ups and downs with his parents, he does love them. And he does want you to meet them... eventually. They’re still his parents, after all. But when that day does come, just know that he’s really serious about you. You’re probably the first person he’s brought over since highschool.

Oddly enough, he isn’t too worried about whether or not they’ll like you. In his words, you’re fucking awesome. What’s not to like?

(They do love you, and are ecstatic to finally meet you in-person. Nathan quickly finds himself regretting the introduction when his mother starts pulling out baby photos, but you seem happy enough, so… He can’t complain too much. Until he finds out that his mother gave you the worst photo to keep.)

Nathan is a fantastic listener, and loves to listen to you talk — especially if it’s something that you’re passionate about. He might not always have a response, but you know he’s listening. Lovestruck is cute look on him.

He always lights up a little when you enter the room, or when you jump into a conversation. His eyes brighten, and his lips upturn just a fraction. Again, lovestruck is a cute look on him.

All in all, Nathan loves you a lot. It takes a little while for him to really open up, but when he does, he is the most loyal partner you could ever ask for.

[shiny-jr]

Hi Shiny! I’m not new to your blog but I have been reading up on the works I’ve missed since I haven’t been the most active on tumblr for like, a solid year, (possibly more?) and I forgot just how amazing your writing is; you are definitely one of my favorite writers, and I greatly enjoy every one of your works.

That’s why- as a reader who really wants to get into writing- I would love to hear what stands to be your biggest inspirations, and especially what media (whether it books, songs, films, etc.) has influenced your writing. I’ve been looking to develop my writing style by taking in the works of others, so any recommendations are appreciated!

Welcome back, anon! Let me see what I can think of off the top of my head.

As I sit here, the first thing I thought of is vocabulary. I think having a good VOCABULARY is key to making a good story, especially when it comes to the flow. I grew up reading a lot, and recently, I began reading more again just books and articles. Through that process, it's easy to learn words, see a new one, and look it up. You might remember said words and use them later.

I've actually been told that I speak kinda eloquently at certain times, like in a professional-business like way, which I totally don't mean to. But yeah, I digress, vocabulary is very important. I'll give you an example.

I started writing this chapter for a new series, and it was late at night, and my heart wasn't really in it. When I reviewed it, I immediately hated it. Why? Because of the vocabulary. It was all simple words, repetitive, and without any variety. I'm not saying your vocabulary has to be great or anything, but when I write, I always have a site called wordhippo open. Just for when I can't remember a specific word or I'm looking for a synonym to change things up and prevent that annoying repetitiveness.

CHARACTERIZATION is also a huge deal. Writing for characters that are not yours is not easy. It's difficult. One thing I do is if I'm not sure about a character's decisions, actions, dialogue, is I look for reference points from what they're from. Voicelines, art, anything helps. If its lacking, I try to think of another character they're similar to and ask myself what would this other character do? Would it be the same as the first character? That usually helps.

Of course, this includes character development and conflicts and relationships and such. I think some of the best characters I've ever seen in media, are from the animated Avatar: The Last Airbender. That series has such solid personalities, variety within the cast, good interesting conflicts, and one of the best character development arcs in modern day animated media.

As for songs, I usually just listen to instrumental songs when writing. I found that lyrics tended to distract me, which is why I try to avoid it when writing. No series or novels come to mind immediately, although I do write personal reviews for those I read. Most of which is either praise or criticizing (mostly criticizing) the writing style of the author, the characters, or the plot. I'm glad to share some of those, but I've written a good number of them and they're lengthy, just me yapping.

Anyways, that's a lot. I'm not sure if I answered your question as you wanted? I hope I did. Let me know if there's anything else.

[oncasette]

rooster on cassette

bradley bradshaw x gn!reader

summary: six songs and how they relate to your relationship with rooster, drabble/head canon style

warnings: innuendos/sexual implications

masterlist | taglist

GREAT BALLS OF FIRE - jerry lee lewis

i’ve changed my mind, this love is fine

goodness gracious, great balls of fire

ok, ok. this one is obvious but i had to add it. everyone knows he plays it at the bar all the time. it’s his signature. and it’s one of three songs he can actually play on the piano. but! ladies man rooster let’s you—makes you—sit on the bench next to him as he plays. and, eventually, you learn enough of the chords that you can play the song together. 

“c’mon, baby. gotta please the crowd,” he says as he pulls the piano bench out for you. you know what song he’s gonna play without him telling you. it’s his go to. even if he knows how to play “piano man” and “old time rock & roll,” you know he won’t play them with the bar as crowded as it is.

your thighs are always touching, and sometimes one of yours gets tossed over his and you’re practically sitting on his lap in the middle of the crowd surrounding you. and you just get to sit and stare at him with your massive heart eyes as he sings. he’ll do that silly little dance when he gets done every time, pulling you up to join him after he’s completed his victory lap. 

“kiss me, baby,” he half-sings, pouting his lips for you to smack one on him. he even does the “oooh, that feels good” bit in between the kiss you give him and the kiss he inevitably drags you into seconds later. 

and he’s grumbling ten minutes later when he’s forced to plug the jukebox in, because he can’t bare to be away from you that long. but the grumbling doesn’t last long, when you agree to follow him over there (dramatic, bud) and pick out a new song for the two of you to dance to. 

brad mumble sings the silly love song as he presses himself fully against you. He’s always a little touchier after he gets done singing, and you never ask, but you know it’s got something to do with his dad. you’d seen the way maverick had reacted that one time, and you were just glad bradley was letting you in enough to include you in it. 

ADDICTED TO LOVE - robert palmer 

it’s closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough

you know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to love

windows down in the bronco, screaming both of your hearts out to this song. he’s got his free hand running up and down your thigh and his aviators perched on the edge of your nose. 

you’d somehow convinced him to go to the farmer’s market with you that morning. well, not somehow. you’d had to bribe him with your sundress. but! you got him out and to the car in time to make it to the farmer’s market at a decent hour, before it closed or got too unbearably hot. 

He’s got one–of the two total playlists he has on his phone–playing over the aux as he drives, only the beginning chords of this song have got him cranking up the stereo to the point that you can feel the bass in the seat beneath you. it’s the playlist he’d made for your road trip last summer, seeing as the other one is the one he’d made for your ‘getting in on’ time, as he so eloquently put it. 

“sounds like you, huh,” he says, referring to robert palmer’s love-sick descriptions. your heart sweats, your body shakes. another kiss is what it takes. 

“hm?” you ask in response, never having really paid attention to the lyrics in the past, save from the chorus. you adjust in your seat, allowing the still-rising sun to hit your skin at a better angle. 

“think he’s saying you’re addicted to me.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“so i’m wrong?” god, you hate him and his stupid little smirk. it’s even worse so early in the morning, with the sky still brewing in its haze. he looks so good here, like this.

“no… but you don’t have to be so cocky about it. it’s unbecoming, bradley.”  

“oh, you’re right, baby. sorry, won’t be cocky,” he assures you, gently squeezing the thigh still in his grip. you can smell the lies dripping off his tongue. 

ROOSTER - alice in chains

here they come to snuff the rooster

yeah, here come the rooster, yeah 

i feel like roos would listen to this unironically, like all the time. bradley’s #1, most played song of all time. always on his spotify wrapped in some way, which means you’re stuck listening to it more often than not, as well. 

brad’s got this on in the bathroom late one morning, one of his off days. he’s got you seated on the bathroom counter, in between the double sinks with his razor in your hand. 

“don’t butcher me up too bad, baby,” he says as you slather the shaving cream across his cheeks. you’re careful to avoid his lips and stache region, knowing he’ll trim that on his own with the clipper you gifted him for christmas. 

“wouldn’t dream of it, handsome.”

“handsome, hm? might make you shave me all the time if you’re gonna be so nice,” he says as he lifts his head to give you access to his neck. 

“stop talking. i’m scared i’m gonna cut you,” you say as you eye his bobbing adam’s apple. 

“yes, ma’am.”

as soon as you’re done—like, the second the towel you’re using to clean him up is no longer covering his mouth—he’s replaying the song and putting his aviators on to serenade you in your ensuite. to a song about his callsign. full dips and lyrics mouthed along your jaw serenaded, too.

I’M ON FIRE - bruce springsteen

i got a bad desire

oh, oh, oh, i’m on fire 

a slow dance in the kitchen song at its finest. two am,

just got home from the bar. neither of you are drunk, just buzzed and happy and really craving popcorn for some reason. 

it’s your phone this time since you always got aux in his car on nights out and your trip home had cut mr. springsteen short. it’s left on the island as you rummage around in the pantry with bradley wrapped around your back. it seriously limits your mobility, but he’s too warm for you to even think about asking him to get off. 

his popcorn—the movie theater butter kind—is hidden on the top shelf which forces brad to reach over you and grab the snack he’d hidden himself.

he backs the two of you up the foot it takes to reach the microwave, only giving into his cravings long enough to let you put the damn thing in, before he’s pulling you further against him to sway slightly. 

“love you.” it’s mumbled into the nape of your neck, neatly trimmed mustache hairs tickling your hairline.

it’s gentle, at first, just barely moving your hips in sync. but he’s spinning you around not long after and intertwining one pair of your hands together so that he can–clumsily–lead you through the single ballroom dance he learned in eighth grade etiquette class. 

“i love you, too,” you hum just moments before the song ends and the microwave goes off.

FOOTLOOSE - kenny loggins 

you can fly if you’d only cut loose, footloose

kick off your sunday shoes

this is on the list only partially because miles is in footloose. ok totally, but it’s a secret, don’t tell anybody.

you make him watch footloose. (both. yes the remake exists in this timeline, shh). and as much as bradley claims to hate it, he can’t deny how much he actually loves watching it with you. it’s a watch at least every three months, alternating between the two versions. 

“you’d be a good willard, i think,” you say during one of your viewings. 

“you think?” 

“oh, yeah. I know you can boogie, baby.” he tosses a piece of popcorn at you in retaliation. 

(he so definitely surprises you with the end dance at your wedding. like i’m absolutely sure about this). 

BIG BALLS - ac/dc

everybody says i’ve got

great balls of fire 

bradley has fifth grader humor and thinks this song is peak. comedy. to him. best friend is snorting like every other line.

brad has got this playing on the nightstand one night after he’d gotten home a tad later than usual. not that he ever stopped playing it, if you were being honest. 

but this particular night, he’s a little gigglier than usual. he’s still in his towel, hair wet and dripping down his face as he climbs up on the bed to lean over you. 

“god, brad. you’re worse than the dog,” you whine at the feel of the newly cold sheets. He ignore you, though, too focused on the innuendos spewing from the speaker. 

“it’s my belief that my big balls should be held every night,” he whisper sings before he’s tucking his face into your tummy in a half-assed attempt to hide his laughter, dampening the gray cotton of your t-shirt and darkening it. 

“gross!” you scoff, joining in on his laughter out of habit, as you push his head up off of you. 

“hey, bon scott said it, not me,” he says as he leans in with the most obnoxiously puckered lips you’d ever seen. 

“you’re disgusting. vile,” you punctuate your statement with a gagging sound, only to meet his lips halfway in a peck.

“you love me, baby,” he says. and you hate how right he is.

tags-- @zeldaknight @ridestomars @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

[peopleiveghosted]

anti-hero is not "overrated" it's actually just that good, an essay of sorts

so. earlier today, i was talking to myself (as you do), and while pacing my sister's living room floor, my imaginary conversation partner had some Bad Opinions about taylor swift's "anti-hero". and i was so mad at myself for not being able to immediately put to words why this song deserves all its hype, is a lyrical masterpiece, and means a lot to me, that i immediately sat down and almost gave myself carpal tunnel while typing out this line-by-line analysis of its lyrics. nothing i say could ever be as eloquent or well-put as the lyrics themselves, but nevertheless, in case anyone needs to be validated in how much they love this song, or doesn't understand why this song is such a hit with so many people, here it is. here goes.

-

VERSE 1

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

bam. open with an absolute BANGER of a line. this line does one of the things that taylor does best, which is flipping a well-used and overly trite phrase on its head. how many times have i heard the phrase "older and wiser"? and how many times have people told me that those who are older don't actually have their lives together, don't actually know what they're doing any more than i do, and that they're just as lost no matter how much more "life experience" they have? this line also sets up the theme of feeling like you'll never learn, and continuing down a road to ruin because you don't know how to do anything else, which becomes very prevalent throughout the song

Midnights become my afternoons

line 2 continues along the same vein of flipping things on their head. older doesn't equal wiser, midnights are actually afternoons. the theme of the album comes in (things that keep her up at night). in plain words: she's wide awake at midnight

When my depression works the graveyard shift / All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

okay i really didn't want to say "cmon. it's self-explanatory." but CMON. IT'S SELF-EXPLANATORY. that's a fucking GENIUS LINE must i REALLY explain it? if i MUST, it's following the last line (about how she's wide awake in the middle of the night) to say that her depression is what's keeping her up, and when her depression keeps her up, the people she's "ghosted" (if you're not a native english speaker/are unfamiliar with the colloquial definition of this word, it means to avoid/ignore someone, often with no explanation. not replying to texts, ignoring them on social media, not answering their calls, blocking them, etc.) are like actual ghosts, haunting her, standing there and watching her with accusatory gazes in the middle of the night. aka she cant sleep because she's thinking about all the people she's hurt or cut off in the past.

-

PRE-CHORUS 1

I should not be left to my own devices / They come with prices and vices / I end up in crisis (Tale as old as time)

okay. quadruple rhyme? all right, taylor, i see you. spitting fire. continuing the story from the first verse, she's by herself (left to her own devices) and going down a late-night spiral, and when she's left to her own thoughts bad things happen. and i'd argue the second part of the line (they come with prices and vices) is ambiguous in who she hurts. the last part (I end up in crisis) implies she's the one hurting herself when she's left to her own thoughts, but "prices and vices" doesn't say who's paying the price (her or the people around her?) and when someone gives into their vices, they often hurt their loved ones too. this line is mainly about self-destructive tendencies, late-night spiraling, bad thoughts, the consequences of bad thoughts, but i'd also say that combined with the fact that it immediately follows "all of the people i've ghosted" this line is also about how she's self-aware of all the people she's hurt. and that's the source of her "crisis" (though, of course, it could be a nod to 'existential crisis' which has become a phrase that's well known amongst our generation). "Tale as old as time" --- she's not special. everyone has experienced this. but also, she's done this so many times, but she never learns (gotten older, but not wiser)

I wake up screaming from dreaming / One day, I'll watch as you're leaving / 'Cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)

ANOTHER QUADRUPLE RHYME. here enters the elusive "you" she's addressing. they seem to be a partner, or at least someone very close to her. the idea of taylor "scheming" or being a mastermind/manipulator is one that's existed in media and is acknowledged/addressed throughout this album, but even within the context of just this song, it nods to the fact that she likes to overthink, is anxious and overplans, stays up all night. she's obsessive, and she thinks she'll end up alone because of it (meeeeeeeeeeeeee)

-

CHORUS

It's me, hi / I'm the problem, it's me

memeable. catchy. a very simple line, but that's what makes it such a gut-punch. the epitome of what someone who literally can't sleep at night because of things they've done or at least think they've done says to themselves

At teatime, everybody agrees

she's imagining everyone she knows over afternoon tea talking about how she's the problem and how they hate her. i have also done this. i think most people who are anxious, especially socially anxious, have wondered if everyone actually secretly hates them, and are just too polite to say so to their face.

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

another "c'mon it's self-explanatory" line. my jaw literally dropped when i first heard this line. she'd rather blind herself, hurt herself by staring directly at the sun, than face her own reflection. she can't bear to look at herself. self-loathing at its peak

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

this can very easily be read as taylor talking to her fans: it must be so hard being my fan, when i'm the "anti-hero" aka someone who lacks all the traditionally heroic attributes. but in other words, outside the specific context of taylor and her fandom, this line can read as "i'm the opposite of everything people like or want to champion. it must be so much work, loving someone like me."

-

VERSE 2

Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

"sexy baby" is meant to be an oxymoron here. she thinks everyone but her has found out how to be both "sexy" (mature, attractive, confident) and a "baby" (innocent, young, blameless). knowing taylor, it's likely specifically a nod to the stereotypically (but not necessarily exclusively!) female experience of having to be both sexy but not too sexy as to be a slut. you have to have it, but not flaunt it. you have to be physically mature (have that hourglass figure, tits and ass, etc., and be aware enough of it to know how to look good but not TOO good) but mentally pure (like a child, untouched by the world, not jaded, still full of wonder despite everything). i've heard people say this line makes them feel uncomfortable, because the idea of "sexy babies" is weird and off-putting to them, but that's kind of the point. it's an uncomfortable idea because it shouldn't exist and mixes two concepts (sexiness and babies) that people don't often put together, thereby showing how society puts an impossible, unnatural, and perverse double standard on people (particularly women).

And I'm a monster on the hill / Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

she thinks she's the opposite of the idealized "sexy baby" expectation that, in this moment, she imagines everyone else has managed to achieve. she's just this big monster. "too big" to me clearly speaks to body image issues. and it might be easy to be like "it's taylor swift, what does she know about body image issues?" but that's like. kinda part of why this line hits? even taylor swift has these problems. and the image of something large and unsightly and inelegant, moving in such a way that's more like "lurching" and coming to destroy everything you love…and the fact that that's how she sees herself, at least in this moment? more self-loathing, obviously. that's the theme of the song

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

continuing the monster metaphor. she's the monster, so people attack her, and it hurts. it pierces her straight in the heart. but it never kills her. and in the movies, in this story, people always want the monster to die. the monster is the antagonist. so not only does she have to live through and suffer this pain, this pain that pierces her straight through the heart, she thinks no one wants her to live, that no one's on her side, that no one's cheering for her. she's attacked over and over, but she always gets back up, and that's a bad thing, because she's the monster. her efforts to keep going is to the detriment to everyone/everything around her, she's a blight just for existing.

-

PRE-CHORUS 2

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism / Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

triple rhyme! sorry for constantly pointing the obvious out, but it amazes me that not only does she manage to eloquently state these complex ideas in very few words, but she manages to rhyme at the same time. i'm so bad at rhyming, so this just blows my mind, even if here the last one is more of a slant rhyme. it's still close enough to work and be satisfying. the opening words are "did you hear" which again, refers to how she's imagining what everyone must be saying about her. and the covert narcissism that's actually altruism? like…i have this exact fear. "am i really altruistic/a good person? or am i only pretending to be a good person because i'm a narcissist who wants praise and attention, only doing it because it looks good to other people rather than out of any innate goodness (like a congressman just trying to win an election)?"

I wake up screaming from dreaming / One day, I'll watch as you're leaving / And life will lose all its meaning (For the last time)

she has a fear of losing that important person and having nothing left. and this time, she won't survive it. following the second verse, to me it also means that she won't get back up this time, it's the end of the line, the monster will finally be slain (and isn't that what everyone wants anyway?)

-

CHORUS 2 (repeat)

BRIDGE

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money She thinks I left them in the will The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out "She's laughing up at us from Hell"

okay this part actually took me quite awhile to figure out. but once i got it, it absolutely destroyed me.

i (me, the person writing this analysis) have these things i call "fear fantasies." basically, if you think of a nightmare (a bad dream you have while sleeping) and a daydream (a happy thing you imagine while ur awake), then a "fear fantasy" is a nightmare/daydream where you're awake, but your mind just spirals into this nightmare of an overly-specific, self-punishing, weirdly gleefully masochistic imagining where something terrible happens to you or someone around you. i feel like a lot of people with anxiety will know exactly what i'm talking about. but if you're lucky enough to not count as one of those people, just know this: some people spin stories of worst-case scenarios in their head that are highly specific, highly unlikely, and very terrible for no decipherable reason other than perhaps self-torture and an inexplicable craving for suffering and self-punishment. it's irrational, hard to explain, and mostly, not under our control. it just happens.

that's what she's describing here, though she does describe it as a "dream" instead of a "daydream" so it's not an exact match with my "fear fantasies". basically, she has this dream, and it's a dream where she hypothesizes about something terrible happening. it's overly-dramatized, probably unrealistic, definitely a case of catastrophizing. in fact, in the music video, she plays it for laughs, like she's making fun of her own imagination. but in actuality, when she's imagining it in the middle of the night, or dreaming, it probably feels very real.

and what is that worst-case scenario?

the worst-case scenario isn't even that her family hates her so much they kill her because all they really want is her money. it's the idea that that's all that will be left of her legacy, which she didn't even bequeath to anyone, because she lived knowing she was unloved and hated. "what if, after everything i've achieved, it all amounts to nothing because i have no one to share it with? and what if that was my fault? what if, at the end of it all, i have nothing left in me but my spite, so i die hated by everybody while hoarding my money?" it's not just "what if i had a daughter-in-law that hated me" it's "i put no one in my will out of spite, because i hated them too, i was the problem, and maybe even, i deserved to be killed for being so horrible and petty, and so, my death is not a cause for grief, and my only revenge is their outrage." it's "my existence is one that's so loveless that all i can breed is hatred, amongst those closest to me and within myself." it's "i'm so profoundly lonely, and i can't think of a reason for why i'm so alone except that something must be very wrong with me, but i don't know what it is or if it's even possible to fix it, so i'm just going to lie here and imagine what the end of such an existence would look like: ugly, nothing but petty drama, inconsequential, ultimately forgettable, and full of hate, just like the rest of me."

-

and then the song begins to wind down with the breakdown of "it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me" repeated over and over until she hisses "everybody agrees, everybody agrees" just to drive home that idea of literally everyone hating her, including herself.

and finally, the chorus one more time. ending with "it must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero" aka, as i said, "it must be so hard, to love me" (which is why no one does, not even myself)

[filthforfriends]

I agree so much with your take about D seeming more emotionally invested in covers rather than their own songs. I think the issue is that 90% of the songs they've released after tdi are enjoyable to listen to but have no emotional substance. There's no personal element, they could've been written by anyone. Idk if he can do better in english tbh. Writing in your 2nd language is hard. He can write some hit with help most likely but another coraline, vent'anni, torna a casa etc? I doubt it.

"they could've been written by anyone."

bestie hitting the nail on the head at such a velocity that it broke the damn hammer.

The things is that IWBYS is actually clever. Theres word play in the David and Goliath reference. And in their earlier English stuff theres also some decent lyrics that you think would indicate being a pretty good song writer half a decade later.

You're a soldier but you'll never wear you armor again / Now you found freedom but now / Tell me who knows your name / Because I know how does it feels / To feel like you're reflected / From the mirror of the shame / And you feel like you're the last man / And you feel like you're suspected of a murder that you've never done / Now you found freedom but your freedom is just like a bomb 

- thats from their first song studio song EVER. So I think that Dami just doesn't have enough time to develop the lyrics like he wants to. But no I don't think its gonna be the literal POETRY that he writes in Italian. The unfortunate thing is that I truly believe he has so much to say. Especially after doing research for The Sun Is the Center of Everything (my fanfic). The verse he did Stato Di Natura is literally about relationship anarchy (in my opinion).

No 3/4 of Maneskin have not have finished high school but these kids are all eloquent and educated and rejecting social norms. I feel like they've been muzzled by Sony U.S. and that Damiano is not getting the chance to communicate through music to anything remotely close to his full potential. its fucking frustrating to see their art suffer to the point that it doesn't sound like art, it sounds like AI generated commercial pop-rock. like I know these bitches having something to say AND I WANNA HEAR IT

[thecameronchronicles]

Wisdom Teeth

*Requested

TW: Mentions of blood, oral surgery, smut, language, and fluff (not a warning, more of a teaser)

SUMMARY: Getting your wisdom teeth was not exactly something you were looking forward to, and yet with your best friend at your side, it seemed a little less dreadful. But when certain confessions come out while under the influence of drugs, it holds the potential to change your friendship as you know it…

WORD COUNT: 4400

Wisdom Teeth

“Thanks again for being here…” Your voice was hollow from its usually warm confidence as you couldn’t steady the beat of your knee rising and falling in quick succession from your nerves. But the feeling of a familiar hand reaching to yours managed to quell some of these anxieties as your best friend was present, as always, by your side. 

It wasn't that you didn’t have anybody else to be there for you as your small collection of pogues all offered their own sense of support. And yet, there was always something different about your connection with Pope. Maybe it was the way you both fell under the pressures of your parents sacrificing their dreams to make yours come true. Or maybe it was the way your eyes would always find one another when looking across the fire during one of the many pogue gatherings, only to fall away in the silence of what neither of you risked speaking of. But as he had been each and every time you needed him, he was there at your side once again.

But once your name was called to be taken to the operation room, your eyes rose to him, wide with fear. Not necessarily for the IV, although it wasn’t exactly something you were looking forward to either, but in the pain you knew would follow as you’d seen Kie go through this not even six months earlier. 

“I’ll be right here when you get back.” He validated, his reliable kind eyes meeting yours as you hesitated for a moment before following the hygienist into the room prepared for you. Having been offered small pep talk and a promise you’d be ‘right as rain in no time’, you would wake up to find Pope in the car at your side, commitment to his words validated once again. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the lyrics of AltJ playing in the background to your conversation. For a moment, your eyes struggled to remain open before a rush of euphoria, left behind by the drugs used to medicate you, had left your inhibitions loose at best. 

“Actually…REALLY good…Like…Higher than high…” He chuckled. 

“Yeah…that’s what the drugs will do to you-” As he spoke, his face accentuated by the lines of a smile you adored, you couldn’t help but lean across the space before you. 

“You have such a pretty face….But you don’t smile enough…”

“I don’t…smile enough?” He questioned. 

“No…you have such a pretty smile, Pope…” 

“Okay…I think we need to get you into bed before you say something like that to JJ and he gets the wrong idea…” The specific words spoken to you had unlocked a portion of your brain you always held as a secret from him; the truth of how you felt about him. And the effect of the drugs did nothing but inflame the need to be honest. 

“I think your pretty face should touch mine…” 

“Uh…what?” He laughed almost choking on air from the way you phrased these words, having usually spoken in eloquence similar to his own methods of conversation, this was quite a treat for your best friend to hold over your head in the future. 

“Do you think MY face is pretty?”

“You’re…” He paused for a second, unable to describe to you just how he saw you. He wouldn’t confess how he’d memorized the small details of your face; the birth marks, the perfect lines that came at either side of your smile, or the way you pursed your lips whenever in thought…those plump lips he thought of way too often. So instead, he kept it in humor; “VERY high right now…let me just get you back to the chateau and-”

“I think we should fuck…” His focus committed to you in such a way that made you giggle in your current state of indifference and verbal freedom as you weren’t aware of the weight such words would hold if spoken in sobriety. 

“Shit!” He exclaimed once his eyes found the road again, having crossed the median and pulling back in the knick of time. But the laugh expressed from beneath your swollen cheeks had calmed the possibility of this existing as a true offer for him. Instead, it was a simple remark from your disoriented state-at least this is what he told himself to keep from thinking of acting on it for even a second. 

“How about we get you coherent and then we talk about that.” He laughed it off as you leaned even closer to him. 

“I love you Pope…” Your eyes fell heavy as you took his words to heart as much as you could in your state before falling asleep against the window once again. When you woke up this next time, you found him at your side, his fingers slipping over the edges of The Great Gatsby, eyes rising when realizing you were awake. 

“Hey…”

“Hi-” You attempted to speak, a surge of pain pulsating from one side of your face to the other. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t try to talk…But we DO need to change your gauze, but I didn’t want to wake you up…” You nodded, reluctant before slowly rising despite the fact each small movement only added to the pounding endured by the vessels within your head. 

“You’re gonna want to rinse with this solution to keep from getting dry socket…” He explained once your gauze was removed, offering a salt mixture that made you wince before he handed a dixie cup to spit in to. And yet through the sight of blood, swelling, and bruising, it was clear his focus was in caring for you above all else. 

But as he discarded the bloodied wrapping and used cup, your mind was quickly returned to those moments within the car-the words that you prayed he’d forgotten, unaware just how they had been the only thing he had been able to think about. And yet in true ‘Pope’ fashion, he knew the priority was in your recovery, not what he could otherwise take advantage of. 

“So I got strawberry…lemon…chocolate-” He rose to his feet, beginning to move to the direction of the kitchen as you deduced how he spoke of ice cream. The thought would remind you of just how truly hungry you had been as a deep growl from your stomach had made your mouth water at the thought. And yet your eyes caught upon the sight of Pope, the lines of his athletic frame deepening a different hunger that quickly shifted as he returned with a bowl and spoon in one hand. 

“So what will it be?” You offered a weak smile, thankful he couldn’t read your mind before deciding on the option of chocolate. 

Taking a bowl for himself, adorning it with whipped cream and a cherry, you groaned at the sight of your favorite toppings that you weren’t allowed to have due to your stitches. The entire ‘liquids only’ diet having already sucked before really being enacted. 

“You suck.” You groaned as he smirked. 

“The cherry’s all mine but you COULD have the whipped cream…” He explained, leaning forward to offer it as you would instead bypass the small offering on the edge of his spoon and swiping your finger on the larger glob present atop his half eaten dessert. With a cocked jaw and slow nod he began to smirk. 

“Alright thief-” You grinned in victory as he set his bowl down for just a second before returning with the can of whipped cream. 

“Just remember…you asked for it…” He teased, pushing down the nozzle and forcing it on your nose as you glared. In his fit of what he believed to be a victory, you snatched the container, setting a line along the edges of your fingers and swiping it softly across his cheek as to not hit him, but more paint him with the accompaniment. 

“Oh REALLY?”

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” You teased, as he feigned surrender only to subject the nozzle in a frenzy over you entirely, covering your hair, the bedding, even the curtains just beside the bed itself to find a touch of the whipped cream. 

“You’re wasting it!’ You groaned, suddenly more hungry for the whipped cream than the banter between you two having turned humorously physical. 

“It’s like the only thing I can eat!” You continued as he lowered towards you, holding out a finger of whipped cream, a perfect dollop on the pad of his thumb. Suddenly without thinking, you took it behind your lips, your eyes locking the second your tongue brushed the skin of his digit. Unintentionally sensual, your slowly withdrew-only worsening the tension, as he swallowed hard, eyes dilating in a shared arousal silenced by the friendship more important to you than the risk of it being affected by having given into this clearly mutual desire. 

“I’ll um…get a rag…” He made an excuse to leave as you slowly nodded, berating yourself once he left you alone to do so. 

And this is how it had been for two weeks. Every day, nearly every minute, Pope had been at your side, at your disposal for every detail from interchanging gauze and ice packs to coming to you at all hours with whatever ice cream or soup you had requested-and even forcing you to eat when you were in too much pain to do so as to ensure you didn’t get too sick. 

But there were also those small moments you treasure beyond the ones of his initial care; the moments that sent your heart inflamed with a different form of love you’d always silenced but found too deafening with each interaction now existing as a reason to act on what you’d attempted to hush.

But there was one moment in particular that pulled your heartstrings to play every chord in reverberation through to each of your nerves. It was a time in which he believed you had been asleep that he made his way towards the bed, careful to try and keep you in this tranquil belief of slumber as his finger brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen over your expression. The way his skin felt to yours in a way that seemed more as a stolen moment chilled your skin as he had a habit of making such careful traces somehow erotic. Perhaps this was because of what lied beneath his touch or what you wanted to follow. And you couldn’t help but wonder how many times he had done this without you knowing, leading you to understand that the same want you had for him remained somewhere beneath his own silent denial.

It would take just shy of fourteen days before you were able to stand on your own two feet without the pulsating pain radiating within your mouth. Only now, you found yourself anxious to face Pope, having grown accustomed to the way he had cared for you, even considering feigning your pain to keep him at your side that much longer. And yet, you knew it would only delay the inevitable-and so you ignored this before making your way out of the bedroom and moving towards the center of the Chateau. The other pogues having been passed out from a night of celebrating another day in their lifestyle, you scoffed at the mess of beer cans and the humor of JJ’s sleeping position, before eyeing Pope on the pier set just in view of the screen door. 

“Good to see you on your feet…” He spoke sweetly, averting his gaze as his feet made small circles in the water before him. It was clear his thoughts had become occupied by something-something you were curious to know if it had been the same broadcast throughout your own. The words you wished you could take back…or if you were being honest-the ones you wish he’d acted on…

“Yeah…Thanks for doing all that…”

He shrugged. “Anybody else would have done the same…” He didn’t allow himself the appreciation of your credit as you now took the seat beside him on the dock, noticing him tense to this. 

“No. Kie would have whined the entire time about how they used too much paper and plastic in the gauze and meds, JJ would have been annoying with the blood and probably would have eaten all the ice cream…you…you stayed…and you didn’t have to…”

“You know I’d do anything for you…” His words hung in the air a bit longer than he would have liked, forcing him to consider if his statement was misunderstood or even misinterpreted. Classic Pope would overanalyze everything between you two until the one time he truly should have; within the car, taking you up on that offer. 

“Yeah…” But the tension for you was too much to bear. Ever since that moment in the car, things had been incredibly different. Even when he had cared for you, he kept a distance that was more than abnormal for the two of you; a distance that was only present after that damned remark. 

“I know…but-” His eyes shot to you, hoping you would somehow be able to read his mind and how desperately he wanted to discuss that remark, to know if it was spoken more in truth or under the effect of the drugs. 

“God, can we just get back to normal?”

“Normal?”

“Yeah…where we can joke and I can be close to you without you acting like my very presence makes you cold or something…”

“Yeah-yeah, of course…I was just…worried about you-”

“Why? You took such good care of me…I mean, I barely noticed that I had my teeth ripped from my skull…” He offered a weak smirk at the attempt at your dramatic joke.

“You’re doing it again…” You reminded him as he stiffened behind the thoughts too loud in his mind to quiet. 

“Talk to me…what is it?” He was suddenly on his feet, pacing the small pier behind you. 

“I just uh…What you said…With what you said…Did you um…did you mean it? Because I mean nitrous oxide will do that to you, make you say shit you don’t mean but-” 

“Did you WANT me to mean it?” You asked in contrast to his rambling, a sheepish tone drawing his eyes to you, only to avert them when unsure how to answer. 

“I mean…no pogue-on-pogue macking, right? Even if I wanted to-which I’m not saying I do because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to screw any of that up by-” The way he became so nervous brought you to your feet, a smile crest upon your face as you silenced him by connecting your lips with his. He remained in place, completely stunned by your response to him. 

“Yes, Pope…I…I meant it…” He analyzed your expression-seemingly every detail from the look of anxiousness behind your wide eyes and slight part of your lips before closing the space between you again. But at the very instance that he would find a rhythm behind his kiss, he quickly retreated by setting his hands to your hips to keep you at bay. 

“Your mouth-You’re still sore, I’m sure…I don’t want to hurt you-” The most devious of thoughts suddenly came across your mind as you would interlace his fingers tightly within your own before teasing his full kiss with only your breath. 

“Let me prove to you just how much it doesn’t…” You led him back within the chateau and into the very room in which he hadn’t left your side for the last two week. Only now as you crossed its threshold, for the first time, it had been without the weight of a carnal secret. Instead, the second the door came closed, you were within his grasp, his fingers compassionate to your skin as it burned beneath his touch for the aggression you felt in contrast to his perpetual kindness. 

“I mean it…I don’t want to hurt you…” Although his words were selfless, the need behind his eyes, that followed you in desperation, were enough to make you understand he was teetering between his chivalry and his desire. 

“Pope…” You carried your fingers to his chest, pushing firmly to the strong muscle beneath your finger, before he collided with the bed, now sitting on its edge from your guidance, “I promise…I’m fine-”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything because I took care of you…I didn’t expect anything, I just wanted to be there for you…” He began to ramble again as you nodded, acting as if you cared, when in truth, you already knew how much he cared for you, validating it in small moments as well as the drastic ones when you felt as if everyone else had abandoned you. 

So you wanted to show just how appreciative you were of him. Because of this, you dismantled his belt at lightning speed, somehow doing so with grace, as he watched you in awe. 

Your name from his tense exhale being the only thing spoken between you was not enough to keep you from removing him from his restraints, revealing a large and impressive cock just as eager as you had been for him. And yet the confidence you’d expect him to hold with such a manhood was absent as he swallowed hard. 

“Let me prove to you just how good you took care of me…” Before he could speak, you had him within your mouth, teasing his shaft with the corkscrew motion of a single swipe, familiarizing yourself with his taste. 

“You don’t have to-” He spoke in a breath, eyes coming to a close as he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure for another second. The ways he’d thought of you, the way he’d pushed it down no matter how you appeared to him in sensuality or friendship, the offer you made to him was too damn attractive. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, his eyes finding yours looking up at him, cock in your hand, and lips already swollen from the kisses and suction you’d made to him. Something in the way you looked at him dissolved his reservation as he lined his fingers to your cheek until they came at a rest within your hair, a single shake of his head and grin made from his lips, endorsed you to continue. 

A talented tongue wrapping around his cock, taking in the details of his length, moaning against the rigidity nearly choking you to tears, you pushed beyond your own natural boundaries to give him the pleasure he had given you. Even if this had been for your heart, you were finding a different source of satisfaction in watching him slowly come undone by your motions. The way your name sounded coming off of his breath as he fought to remain quiet was enough to pool your own arousal between your thighs as you ached for a touch you’d ignored until this moment. 

“I-I want to make you feel good…I want to touch you…” The words left his lips as he’d looked down to you, soft hand to your cheek. 

Although you could have remained on your knees for him until bringing him to that desperate release, the ache that had formed from the sound of his breathing and his moans was enough to no longer ignore your own need. 

You nodded in agreement to him as he took your hips and guided you onto him. His large hands took stock in your entire body as he spent a handful of moments kissing you, adorning your curves with soft kisses as he uncluttered your skin with the fabric of your clothes until all that remained had been your underwear. 

When his fingers teased the hem of your underwear, only a smirk of approval came from his smile once feeling how wet your panties had become for him. It was this mix of arrogance and disbelief that made him so alluring as you brought him against you in a deep French kiss until he was knocked back upon the bed. His hands ran down your ribs, electricity led behind in a trail, as he continued to your ass, squeezing in appreciation to what you allowed exclusively for him in this moment. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long…” He explained, pulling away from a kiss for only a moment as you were growing playfully irritated with his politeness. You wanted him to embody the fire behind his eyes, although silent, quickly engulfting you both. 

“Prove it.” You challenged as he paused for only a moment as if to consider your words, before you were suddenly taken onto your back. A sudden force brought you to the edge of the bed as your legs were hooked over either of his shoulders. Leaning between your legs, he pulled your panties to the side before nuzzling his nose into you, suffocating into your saturation, before leading a generous lick from top to bottom of your folds. 

“Oh my God…” You breathed sharply, his middle finger now teasing your entrance while a second finger joined adjacent. 

“There is ONE way I can still take care of you…” He teased as you nodded, no longer needing details before your fingers ran the length of his hair, pulling on what was made available to you as it was no longer concealed beneath his cap. 

And it was proven once again that Pope was even more of a giver once again, yet doing so in a way that was not strictly for stroking his ego. Instead, it was to commit to your pleasure, something he focused on as he studied the way your body reacted to the flicks of his tongue and curve of his fingers, repeating these motions as your back rose from the mattress beneath you. 

“Oh God! I’m-FUCK-” You spoke through clenched teeth as he rose with a smile, wiping you from his mouth with the back of his hand to keep from dripping as you pulled him up towards you. 

“I want you inside of me.” The words softened the darkened lust of his features as an exhale of disbelief emerged from his grin. 

“Are you sure, I don’t want-”

“I swear to God, Pope, if you ask me that again-” He kissed you as an apology before moving back to his pants, now discarded on the floor from your initiation, before returning with a condom from his wallet. Carefully discarding the foil packaging until the condom itself came to view, he wrapped it around himself rather quickly, before leaning back over you. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long…” He spoke softly, taking a moment before claiming his desire to ensure you understood that this was more than a one-time thing. Your eyes met his in this same need for verification as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

“So have I.” He grinned, lining himself up to your entrance before slowly pushing himself into you. 

The stretch from his cock was enough to make you wince as he quickly mended this by a string of soft kisses descending your lips to your neck and to your breast. As he continued to inch inside of you. Careful to not penetrate too quickly, he took time fondling your chest-appreciating the beauty of each bosom by taking your nipples behind a kiss and sucking them solid as your fingers descended to his lower waist. 

“Please…” You pleaded for him to begin moving, the fullness of him inside of you having been too much to keep at bay. He obliged, making slow work of what he could have easily offered in a handful of pumps to cessation. But having waited as he had, with this having been your first time, he wanted it to be perfect and thorough. He wanted it to be perfect for you, just as you were always perfect for him. 

“Shit…” He breathed, only able to encompass how you felt beneath him with this single curse. You grinned wildly to this, favoring how you could make him silent for what was usually an impressive repertoire. 

“Pope…” You groaned, the sound of your winded timbre speaking his name, driving him even deeper into you. 

“I…You’re so big!” You grunted as he blushed, covering this with a kiss to your lips. 

“Does it hurt? I can stop-’ He paused his movements as you dug her nails deeper into his back. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” His brows lifted in surprise before he shortened his motions to swifter thrusts all while you watched him clench his jaw as he bowed over you. 

“You feel so good…Goddammit…SO GOOD…”

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me…” You breathed, needing his passion you could feel in every few thrusts-that desperation teasing a release just behind a thin veil of necessary preparation and execution. 

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“I NEED you to fuck me, Pope…please…please…” 

“I-”

“Now!” You drove your nails deeper into his skin, forcing him deeper as he clutched the sheets on either side of your head, his cock buried inside of your greedy pussy. 

This was what he needed to release the worry he held to harm you. And with this, he moved at an ungodly pace to and from you, his body tightening and softening to the way you responded. Smirks and grunts exchange in the small moments as perspiration developed between you. 

Time having lost all construct, trust and lust coexisting in perfect unison, you had that dull ache of a near orgasm tease what was just beneath the surface. 

“I'm so close-Please-” Before you were able to ask, his fingers worked your clit, pinching prior to an eventual committed series of circles that had you buckling beneath him. With his second hand, he wrapped it carefully around your mouth. 

“I don’t want to hear you stop…but I don’t want them to hear you at all…Those are MY moans.” You rolled your eyes in pleasure to the mix of his words, the feeling of HIM, and the way he built you to the precipice of your release. The sudden clench of your walls leading him to curse your name in quick repetition. 

“‘I’m gonna cum-FUCK, you feel so good…I can’t hold it-”

“Cum with me…Please cum with me…” You whined, trembling from the final moments prior to your climax as he joined, convulsing into you with a release apprehended by the means of contraception. Yet you remained beneath him, his body intertwined with your own as he shook above you. 

“Are you okay? Did I-” You silenced him with a kiss. 

“You were perfect. You always are.” His eyes illuminated at your words, a validation he wasn’t aware he needed. 

“And you are for me…” With this, he pulled you into his chest, the softest of kisses pressed to your forehead as you fell asleep in his arms. The arms of your best friend. The arms of your lover. The arms of your caregiver. The arms of your everything…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew

[lackablazeical]

Okay, so I went hunting for some music that reminds me of the addams au, and I would like to offer to the masses:

For some angrier Usagi songs/songs if Usagi snapped, I offer you Burning House by Nico Collins, Sarcasm by Get Scared, The Fox by North Bloom, How It Feels To Be Lost by Sleeping With Sirens, The Darker The Weather // The Better The Man by MISSIO, and Gasoline by Halsey (I know this last one's not perfect lyrics-wise, but the energy feels like it fits Usagi to me).

For some sadder Usagi, I offer lovely by Billie Eilish, Neurosis by Oliver Riot, Silence by Marshmallo & Khalid, Lost Control by Alan Walker & Sorana, Can I Exist by MISSIO, and My Heart's Grave by Faouzia.

For some songs that fit if Usagi ever escaped, I offer Requiem from Dear Evan Hansen, Lost by ILLENIUM & Emilie Brandt, and Paranoia by Neoni.

Church by Fall Out Boy is very fitting for Leo's perception of his relationship with Usagi, methinks.

And for a more accurate take on the Leosagi relationship, so to speak, I offer Rituals by Jiovanni Daniel and Kitchen Fork by Jack Conte.

And lastly, for some Mikey I offer you Kamikazee by MISSIO, CEMETARY by AViVA, Monster by Willyecho, Play with Fire by Sam Tinnesz & Yacht Money, and Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison.

I'm sure you've heard plenty of these already lol, but I thought I'd share in case any of these catch your attention. :]

Jupiter, I owe you my LIFE

Who would've known Nico Collins really just FITS Leosagi???? Like all the songs so far have matched really well?? And I love how The Fox just has that really angry just SCREAMING in it, it's so raw and just. It gives me the happy. And how do I EVEN TALK ABT Darker the weather//better the man w/o just copy pasting the entire song????? Hm?????

Usagi and Mikey both match Gasoline so well but like. On opposite ends of the spectrum and just. Kicking my feet and skipping down the street ong

I'm convinced Billie and Khalid just wrote Lovely FOR Usagi. Convinced of it, absolutely.

And Neurosis???? Just the paranoid energy and just. ALL OF IT! YES! Yes please??? I love how it's almost blaming himself for Leo, like that he was something Usagi 'did wrong' sorry, pardon my heart eyes rn 😍

And The Silence song??? God how it talks about how Usagi always gave but never Got AND THE FUCKING 'I FOUND PEACE IN YOUR VIOLENCE' I AM DONE PRETENDING TO BE NORMAL!!!!!! IM DONE!!!!!/pos

I don't even know how to TALK about 'my hearts grave' other then just feral screams/pos

I swear these Dear Even Hansen songs always stab me in the heart but I love them SO MUCH <33333 I REALLY REALLY DO!!!! Usagi gets a hopeful song. I'll let him have this

And I love how The 'Lost' song has the 'its back to basics now' because TRUE!!! And just the rhythm and the energy and AAAAA 💕💕💕💕

Also what is it about songs about paranoia that hit so HARD???? WHAT IS IT???? BUT NEONI OVER HERE CAN TAKE ALL MY MONEY AND PROPERTY NOW. RIGHT NOW

And I would've never thought of falloutboy for Leo, but NOW ITS ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT/POS

And I think Rituals by Jiovanni Daniel is like???? A new fave song???? Both just overall and in Leosagi terms???? I love the little 'fear on your skin, let the ritual begin' whisper, it's so. Idk how to describe it but I promise I love it

Kamikaze is actually already in Mikeys playlist!!!!! Because it's fucking SPOT ON!!!!! SERIOUSLY!!! And Monster???? By willyecho???? How do yall find such good songs???? I could see Mikey singing and jamming to this, I love the guitar (I think, I'm not a instrument person) in the background. Whatever it is

Play with fire gives me so much art inspo I wanna draw Mikey SO BAD he's one of those mfers who likes the smell of gasoline and how he's an adrenaline junkie and just. Please I'm not eloquent enough to explain my love of all these SONGS

And hells coming with me??? Mikey is definitely one for revenge... and he DEFINITELY thinks he's a god... please Mikey would kill me if he knew a country song was on his playlist but it fits too well to NOT ADD

I'm sorry some of these are really vague, but I'm/gen when I say I listened to all the songs and enjoyed them greatly. Thank you so much :]

[porcelainvino]

currently listening to a strange thing to say 🫡🫡🫡 it is very good so far i barely started but do not worry. i used to be big into csh (mostly i’d put it on my sad playlists because in the 14 minutes the songs would take i’d have stopped crying bc i’d be so bewildered by how long they were LMAOOO) and other long-song bands SO I ENJOY IT… and this song is so good oh wow the use of instruments is so pleasing (<- band kid in me i’m sorry)

i’ll def give those others a listen too :3 and i LOOVE dark songs so that sounds really intriguing actually!!!! very very relatable wow. sopor’s music and lyrics are so detailed and ummm how do i say this Eloquent i guess? but like for music? like specifically music. whatever ITS GOOD your taste is so good 😭🩷 feel free 2 explain more of sopor’s songs to me if u want btw i love listening

also i have to add that love(?) songs that are dark (not really sure if a strange thing to say is a love song or not but considering the killing part i mean it could be depending on the way you perceive it whatever it could be anything i could be so far off esp considering the lyrics aren’t on spotify so i don’t have them on hand rn But. whatever im rambling bye) are sooooo good. been looping suki suki daisuki by jun togawa recently which isn’t incredibly dark but it’s a very intense love song and it is so real 2 me (<- Horror Sufferer and Issues-Haver). another example of instruments in songs that i think are fascinating and also very cool. the vocal mixing etc etc is very pleasing to me in that song SO! anyway. just felt like sharing that idk LMAOAOAO

anyway: thank u for introducing me 😄😄😄 this is so fun . never apologize for rambling it’s welcome

I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT 😭🙏🙏🙏 i remember the 1st time i listened to sopor i had it in a queue while i was going to take a nap and like the first few notes of in der palastra started playing and i like i had to PHYSICALLY sit up because i have never heard anything like her before

she’s so unique and i love her so muchhhh and it brings me so much joy that someone else is listening to her music too so THANK YOUUU!!!!

[overdevelopedglasses]

Tojoctober Day 19 - Costume

(Every day, it's the same old craziness)

Alt title is from the stylized lyrics of Get to The Top

Saejima enjoys the peace of nighttime Kamurocho, before something sinister breaks loose in the city…

(no spoilers!)

—-------------------------

It's that time of night in Kamurocho where it’s surprisingly calm in the streets. The typical hustle and bustle has died down, as most denizens have found their way to bars or restaurants within the sector of the city. Saejima is enjoying the peace and quiet, his hair styled into a ponytail (which he thought looked damn good on him), olive jacket slung over his shoulders, his boots swishing through the still puddles on the pavement. 

Saejima spots a man on the other side of the street, walking a bit…strangely.

Of course, it only takes a couple seconds for Saejima to realize not only who's across from him, but that he doesn't exactly look right.

“Majima, what the fuck are ya doing?”

“Graaaaaaaah, I’m comin for yaaaaaaa, brotherrrrrrrr”

Majima doesn't look too healthy, that's for sure. His skin is a much paler shade than usual, blood is all over him, and his good eye is a bright red instead of its normal brown. 

He's walks towards Saejima for a few more seconds, before swiftly lunging at his oath brother.

“Ack, the fuck!?"

Saejima defends himself from Majima, who almost bites him in the neck.

“Graaaaaaah, Sae-ji-maaaaaaaaaaa"

Saejima turns to run but then sees…. a second Majima. This one simply groans at him. 

“This is getting weird, Majima."

Saejima starts to walk the way he came, slow enough to not look like he's making a break for it. More zombie Majimas appear from the shadows, and it's only a matter of time before Saejima will be overwhelmed by... whatever is happening.

“How many guys did ya recruit for this shit???"

He then sees another figure, at the entrance of the street, defending themselves from 3 other zombies who were attacking him.  

Saejima knows there's only one person Majima would harass like this.

He has a plan.

Saejima breaks into a sprint, bolting towards the other man. The zombies behind him give chase, but Saejima has enough of a head start to make it to the other man before he is caught. He delivers a haymaker to the zombie on the man's right, while he faces and counter attacks another zombie with a lightning fast punch, sending it flying across the road. While this man looks a bit sweaty, these shenanigans are no match for one such as Kiryu, who looks surprised by the assistance.

“Saejima-san!? I thought you were still out of town?"

“Got back this morning, Kiryu-san. Hope my family wasn't too much of a problem."

“No, actually, they were quite pleasant." Kiryu counters another zombie, this one sent slamming into a wall a few feet away. Saejima grimaces a bit at the impact. 

“Any idea why this is happening?" he asks the dragon.

“Majima-san figured out I was in town a couple days ago. This is another plot of his... he's trying to get me to fight him." Kiryu responds plainly.

“Wait, another? What else has he-"

The two are interrupted by a loud cackle.

“Caught ya!"

The zombie that Saejima is pretty sure is his oath brother (everyone else looks slightly off) saunters up to the other men, standing a few feet away from the pair.

“Thissssssss is gonna be good!" Majima cackles again.

“Majima-san." Kiryu steels himself beside Saejima. However, Saejima only smiles at his brother, unintimidated by his display.

“That was a snake hiss brother, not a zombie moan. Yer pretty bad at this."

Majima looks to be offended. "BROTHER!? Are ya mocking my impression???" he says in his normal voice.

“I don't recall zombies speaking that eloquently, either." Kiryu retorts, also boasting a wide grin.

“Yeah. What's next, are ya giving me a submachine gun, Majima?" This sparks a rare laugh out of Kiryu.

“Give Akiyama-san two pistols and set him loose on the city! That'd be a real threat!" Kiryu jokes.

“Nah, he'd kill one of us before hittin a zombie." Saejima says, deadpan.

Kiryu laughs again, this time Saejima joins in with a small chuckle.

“Hey! I'm the threat here!" Majima waves his arms around in an attempt to get the others' attention.

“But believe me, Saejima-san. This isn't the weirdest thing he's done to try and fight me." Kiryu says, calming himself down.

“Oh no." Saejima says with a worried tone.

“Oh yes. He's-"

In a swift motion, Majima's blade is thrown between the two men, silencing their conversation immediately. 

“Maybe we should entertain him? There’s always time to catch up later, Kiryu-san." Saejima proposes, knowing that they’re one move away from getting jumped by the Mad Dog.

Kiryu nods, and the two turn back to Majima, who clears his throat and turns towards them. Saejima does see more zombies emerge from the shadows, so he begins to keep his guard up.

“Ok, ya may have figured out that I’m not a real zombie.” Majima starts, “But, there are many things that I am better at than zombies. For one, I’m not gonna kill ya if I win this fight!”

“What fight?” Saejima asks. He can tell that Majima isn’t really posing too much of a threat to the two men, especially if they tag-team him. There’s only so much agility can do against brute strength.

“Yeah, you’re not more threatening than any other zombies in this state, Majima-san.” Kiryu replies.

Majima seems really confused for a second, but then falls back into the bit, “Well, I’m much more handsome than any zombie you’d come across.” Majima says, winking at the younger man.

“Not when you’re looking like that.” Kiryu says under his breath. Saejima hears it, and lets out a hearty laugh.

“What the fuck, Kiryu-chan!?” Majima says, apparently hearing Kiryu’s roast as well. Kiryu looks surprised at the outburst, a slight bit of redness flooding his cheeks.

“What’s something you can do that a zombie can’t do, brother?” Saejima askes, hoping to avoid a surprise attack.

“Well… did you know that zombies can’t do this!?" Majima shouts, before doing what can only be described as the hustle. One of the zombies produces a boom box and begins to play a song that Saejima has never heard before. Kiryu seems to recognize it, but Saejima figures now isn't the time to ask.

Instead, they both stare blankly at Majima, whose eye shines with expectancy.

After a few moments of seemingly awkward shuffling, Majima leaps up into his typical fight stance.

“Augh, fuck this! I'ma stomp the both of ya right here, right now!"

Saejima glances at his ally. “Kiryu-san… ready to go?"

Kiryu nods, “As always, Saejima-san. Are you good with the crowd?"

Saejima smirks, head swiveling to take scope of the battlefield. “Always have been. Let's go!"

The ensuing skirmish would be talked about both within the Tojo as one of the most spectacular things to have witnessed or be a part of, and outside the Tojo as the wildest thing people had seen in years.

[nonbinary-sticks-the-badger]

ummm errr heres my NiGHTS playlist

tbf its just meant to be songs that feel magical and NiGHTS was the best character i thought i could assign to a playlist of that theme but whatever. explanations under cut

1. Gate of Your Dream SEGA SOUND TEAM

hurrrr hurrr NiGHTS into dreams song fits NiGHTS' character

2. Peaceful Moment SEGA SOUND TEAM

yeah this is pretty magic and from NiGHTS hurrrr

3. Fragmented Nights SEGA SOUND TEAM

guess the explanation

4. Introduced Dream SEGA SOUND TEAM

hmmmmmmmmm

5. Paternal Horn SEGA SOUND TEAM

ummmm

6. After The Dream SEGA SOUND TEAM

see 1 - 5

7. Star Light Zone Masato Nakamura

THE STAGE TAKES PLACE WITH STARS IN THE NIGHT SKY!!! LIKE NiGHTS!!! AND ALSO IS SONIC TEAM!!!

8. Special Stage (Sonic 1) Masato Nakamura

mysterious and surreal... some may say dreamlike... and also sonic team

9. Duel in Dream SEGA SOUND TEAM

like the first one but instead of NiGHTS into dreams its journey of dreams

10. Peaceful Moment SEGA SOUND TEAM

if i include the NiD version i may as well include the JoD version. i didnt do this with gate of your dream because the JoD version sounds so bad

11. Merry Memory Go Round SEGA SOUND TEAM

this is getting exhausting

12. Eloquent Echo: River Rescue SEGA SOUND TEAM

do you hear the flibberty jibberty jibber jabber with an 'oh my god ive gotta get out of here or ill have another word to sell another story to tell another time piece ringing the bell' do you hear the clocks stop when you reach the end no you know it must be neverending comprehend if you can but when you try to pretend to understand you resemble a fool although youre only a man so give it up and smile

13. Dreams Dreams - Located Link Mix (Instrumental) SEGA SOUND TEAM

see 9 - 12

14. Collision Chaos - "G" Mix SEGA SOUND TEAM

yeah this feels like NiGHTS

15. Tidal Tempest - "G" Mix SEGA SOUND TEAM

these are also obviously sonic team, yeah, you get it

16. Zone Clear SEGA SOUND TEAM

TELEPORTATION YEAH! ZIBITTY BUP-BUP!

17. Sky Chase Zone Masato Nakamura

i think you get the point

18. Special Stage (Sonic 2) - Demo Masato Nakamura

i recently got into the sonic 1&2 demos. some of them are bangers, such as this one

19. Special Stage (Sonic 1) - Demo Masato Nakamura

see above, with the additional bonus of me adding the mega drive version before

20. Vanilla Jack Stauber

FINALLY!!! FINALLY!!! A SONG I CAN ACTUALLY EXPLAIN BECAUSE IT ISNT NiGHTS OR SONIC!!!

and i just realised its instrumental. great. if it helps, its sort of like a lullaby.

21. dancing around in circles until my little feet fall off spellcasting

WOOHOO!!! SILLY CLOWN MUSIC!!! LIKE NiGHTS!!!!

22. Dream Sweet in Sea Major Miracle Musical

alooooooooooone

i think less about the lyrics and more about the fact this sounds vaguely magic and a little christmassy (because, yk, christmas NiD)???

23. A Lady Tally Hall

idk its kinda calm ig. if you ignore the 'lady' bit (although NiGHTS probably wouldnt mind being called that) i suppose you could say theyre good and evil? idk

24. 13 Tally Hall

i probably should have added ruler of everything afterwards but idk why i feel i shouldnt

25. Spring Yard Zone Masato Nakamura

this is my favourite stage in sonic 1!!! so much so that i made up loads of lore about it having homes just so that i could make an oc be from there!!! anyway yeah the usual. its sonic team. sounds vaguely magical.

26. Temptation Stairway (Waltz Variation) Metaroom

when i got into ena temptation stairway was the latest episode, or really anything to do with ena. maybe the first teaser for dream bbq was out??? before we knew it was a game??? idk. point is, ena is absolutely bafflingly surreal, and i could sort of imagine this in a NiGHTS game. sonic team please contact metaroom for any future NiGHTS projects please please please 🙏🙏🙏

27. Fancam RYL0, Aron Enoch

the lyrics dont fit even slightly ❤️ but it sounds cute

28. Theme of "CHAO" SEGA SOUND TEAM

this is such a silly happy song from a game that references NiGHTS! also ive literally gone bankrupt from buying stuff in the chao garden black market in sadx lol

29. Isle Unto Thyself Miracle Musical

to me, this DEFINITELY fits the magical theme, as well as the sensation of flying. i have absolutely no idea what any of the lyrics mean.

30. Black Rainbows Miracle Musical

it also feels kinda magical and follows isle unto thyself

31. White Ball Miracle Musical

see above only less because it feels magical and more because it follows black rainbows. i didnt add murders because that's definitely a stretch to say it fits NiGHTS

[psalm22-6]

Source: the Bay Area Reporter, 9 November 1989

Not often do grossly over hyped pieces of theatre live up to the expectations they engender. Les Miserables, the spectacle of this decade’s dramatic spectacles, is a fabulous exception. As seamless a production as ever has been mounted, the musical works like a battalion of well-oiled clocks as it justly earns a place in stage history.

The element that most recommends Les Miserables is its respect for its source. Victor Hugo’s mammoth 1,000-plus page novel is rendered faithfully in content and tone. One might expect a work of such literary complexity and size to become somehow diminished or trivialized when adapted for the stage. Novels often do not transfer easily to visual media. With Les Miserables, the main question before writers Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg was how to convey adequately the politics, philosophy and view of humanity in Hugo’s novel.

Drama Before Technology

The creators of Les Miserables came up with the answer: practical and simple staging, executed with a precision to make NASA weep. Yet as large, expensive, and grand a set as it utilizes, Les Miserables does not favor high technology over basic dramatic tension. The tricks Les Miz pulls out of its hat are big, but, actually, they are not new. They are just done better (and with bigger budget to support them) than any previous. And for all the pyrotechnics, this is still very much an actor’s piece.

 The basic unit of the set is an almost perpetually moving turntable, built-in and flush with the stage floor. On this symbolic wheel of life revolve the fates of Hugo’s characters. [. . .] Played out against the citizen and student riots of 1832 Paris, Les Miserables is an eloquent appeal for freedom of expression, civil rights and commitment to the cause of justice.

Wringing Grandeur

There are many who shed tears over the wringing grandeur of Claude-Michel Schonberg’s score, with lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer. The original French text by Alain Boublil and Jean Marc Natel holds up well in translation, although for the die hard Les Miz-ophile I suggest the original French cast recording. Somehow the soundtrack in its native language raises goose bumps that the Anglo version does not. However, potent though it may be, Les Miserables is not so much a tear-jerker as it is a heartstopper. The musical is constant assault on the senses, especially the ears and eyes. If it causes some to whip out the hankies, so be it. But, ultimately, that will not be Les Miserables’ lasting gift.

A Lesson in Stagecraft

Les Miz is an object lesson in efficient stagecraft. Aside from the aforementioned turntable (a device as old as the Greeks), the only major set pieces are two levered wagons which come together at the end of Act I to form a barricade for the student revolutionaries. Before this, they hinge and rotate to form a Paris backdrop, a balcony, a street scene. 

John Napier’s design is actually very mundane, refreshingly so, in fact. The set, along with David Hersey’s exquisitely designed and produced lighting, precisely establishes mood, place and tone. We are overwhelmed not by the magnitude of the set, props, costumes and effects. Rather, we are appropriately impressed with how well, and simply, they are used. There’s no denying that Les Miserables is an event. The production deserves to be, but it’s too bad people cannot discover it without first being bombarded by the soundtrack, the TV commercials, and the ubiguitous [sic] red, white and blue urchin posters. In an era of empty-headed epics such as Phantom of the Opera, Cats, Starlight Express and Chess, it’s encouraging to see a musical with a soul almost as big as its budget, and one not entirely overshadowed by it. No matter how many times the stage turns round, or how dense the onstage smoke, a beautifully sung “to love another person is to see the face of God” never loses its power to move. Les Miserables Curran Theatre, 445 Geary St. Tues-Sat, 8 p.m.; Sat matinees, 2 p.m.; Sun matinees, 3 p.m. $16-$50 243-9001

[musicarenagh]

A Sonic Fusion of Potential and Groove in Daniel Strongman's "Big Brudda" The soul of A-town has found its pulsating rhythm through the youthful vibrancy of one of its talents. The dynamic Atlanta-based artist, Daniel Strongman, proves his growing reputation as a musical force with his much-awaited second single, "Big Brudda", cementing his standing among the fresh-progeny of afro hip-hop artists rising from the South. https://open.spotify.com/track/2zSO51rvZIuS2oSoWS7HIS Describing the tune merely as “super catchy” would be an understatement. Continuously proving himself more than capable in blending aesthetics and elements from varying genres, Strongman's "Big Brudda" emerges as a compelling fusion of afro-hip-hop infused with some mid-tempo Afrobeats funk that lures listeners into dancing right off their seats. Yet it is upon reaching the infectious hook where "Big Brudda" really zeroes in on your attention. It creeps up on you like a rhythmic phantom — subdued yet consistent until it engulfs you completely causing involuntary head bobs or an uncontrollable foot tap. This showing is indeed further testament to Daniel’s prowess in weaving hooks laden with earworm qualities. Strongman’s lyrical delivery is equally commendable - succinct but full-bodied. His laid-back vocal style invites casual introspection, breathing life into the intrinsic theme presented by "Big Brudda". In essence, it’s an exploration and acceptance of one's future potential within the present self, a commendable concoction of motivation and self-realisation bundled in a feel-good arrangement. [caption id="attachment_52177" align="alignnone" width="1125"] A Sonic Fusion of Potential and Groove in Daniel Strongman's "Big Brudda"[/caption] Yet, what ultimately distinguishes this track from being just another blip on the radar is its evocative power. "Big Brudda" paints vibrant pictures of joyous barbecues and sun-bathed boulevards of the Atlanta streets while being emotionally engaging. Like a summer breeze, it manages to be invigorating and calming simultaneously. All things considered, "Big Brudda" works as both an earnest introspective anthem for self-actualization as well as a meticulously crafted soundtrack perfectly suited for those fond of a hip-swaying, dancehall vibe-fest. It stands tall as an eloquent testament to Daniel Strongman's emerging capacity as an artist that stretches beyond conveyor-belt formulations of mainstream music. "Big Brudda" isn’t merely another beat-driven number designed for immediate consumption but rather serves itself up as a considerable feast — thoughtfully prepped with intricate nuances to peruse upon each revisit. Served hot on today's music platter by chef Strongman himself, your ears are in for a dish you’ll savor time and again before eagerly anticipating his next course. Follow Daniel Strongman on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.

[interpol-nyc-documents-blog]

Have you ever come across the ”Top Ten Worst Lines of Interpol's First Album" ? Here’s a reply to the article:

Paul writes from a position of decadence. To start: "She's always calling my bluff / Her stories are boring and stuff." -This lyric reflects the crux of the entire song: he is so immensely uninterested and disenfranchised by the female subject's modes of expression and communication that he does not feel it necessary to express his boredom by writing in any sort of eloquent tongue. "She's boring and stuff" is the ultimate indication of his own reciprocal boredom. Anything more indicates that he is interested in examining the issue. Progressing further with this theme: The author of this article woefully dismisses the lyric labeled as number 8. Ponies are traditional symbols of the mercurial and fleeting. The song is about the utter inability to connect, particularly sexually, with another person. "She says it helps with the lights off," etc. This inability to achieve sexual connection stems from lack of emotional understanding. The song's power lies in its expression of a subtle yearning for things to actually organically gel, and the sense that this may still be possible. This song is less clinical than much of the album musically, and it is brilliantly intuitive. "She says brief things" simply means that she is relatively closed off and it is difficult communicating with her. His love is there but it is effectively sublimated- which means that it has been forced under due to a larger more pressing issue, i.e. the formulaic, mechanical, clinical desire to emotionally function properly, and the desire to not have to directly address his dysfunction. Paul has made it no secret that he believes that life is not a slow march toward death, but that death validates and presents an excuse for a decadent, indulgent, sensory-based life style. In the 'Stella' lyrics, they are clear and exacting. This song again is about defunct sexual interaction. "Love joy diver' is an underhanded sexual allusion and "catatonic" refers to a unfeeling, unmoving state. Simply, Stella is incapable of performing properly sexually, i.e. she is frigid and disturbed. The persona of the singer is attracted to this type of clinical sexual satisfaction because the pressure of emotional investment is absent. I am not going to go through each of the others for risk of boring the reader further, but it is plain to see that these lyrics, as is the music itself, are very calculated and thought-out. Connotation and delivery are very important with the words. Conversely, the new album, Antics, is much more extroverted and aggressive; it is much less self-examining and self-conscious, and more immediate. Paul's knack for haunting lyrics is in top form on 'Slow Hands' with "...makes me want to pick up a guitar and celebrate the myriad ways that I love you" and Interpol's absolute best lyric and delivery: "ohh how I love you, in the evenings... when we are sleeping... we are sleeping." It seems that this record has reconciled some of the struggles with the concept of love: Love and relation to others is viewed from a very cynical, almost disturbing, lense. But, the hope is still prevalent on this record. It is about accepting the frailty of emotion, an almost proto-existentialism. The line from 'Slow Hands' illustrates this well. It is grammatically incorrect. It should be "the myriad of ways." But this imperfection in the actual presentation of the words reflects his state of mind that such a heroic and romanticized view of love is unrealistic and maybe impossible. Love and the mechanisms of relation to others is imperfect. Yet he tries nonetheless to express himself and his acknowledgement that true connectedness is possible. The emotional frailty and dysfunction examined on the first album may not be dysfunction but instead the natural state of things. This record is more proactive and has a "take control" mentality to it- things may be flawed but it is a viable approach on life to actively indulge in and embrace the peculiarities of human interaction and "look the other way.

[euphorajeon]

a/n: i just realized that this isn't a drabble, more like a rant when i was sad and looping euphoria forever mix for a week straight :')) you can skip this one, or read if you want ^^

I thought I had become immune to the one thing that used to wreck me the most, but apparently not. The first time i saw it feels like an eternity ago, but it’s only been two months. I don’t remember a couple months passing by this quickly, but it did.

I thought I was fine, the sound of the piano just like any other songs I listen to on a daily basis. My heart no longer clenches whenever the first notes starts. I was able to enjoy the song without letting a tear out, but even that doesn’t last very long.

I made a mistake of watching it again two months after its initial release. At first my gaze was just fond, watching you do your usual dorky thing together with your hyungs. But half way through the video, the tears started coming.

It continued on until the end of the video, where I was left wondering why the hell am I still very affected by this. This whole video, song, person, thing. Even your high note still makes me cry like the first time I heard it a year ago.

Honestly, I just want to let this go. It’s pathetic to cry over something so petty every time I watch or listen to it. I don’t even know what I’m crying over so it makes this more confusing and frustrating at the same time because not knowing the cause means that I can’t stop whatever this is from happening because I don’t know what to stop. Maybe I just have to stop listening to the song altogether, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It will feel like a part of my life has been taken away, which sounds cheesy and gross—but feelings in general are cheesy, I suppose. I don’t know how many more times I’m gonna write about this because I’ve written before to finalize this and never think about it again, but look where I am now.

You might say to yourself you’re going to let go of something, but the actual process of letting go is hard. In this case it’s hard because I don’t even know what I’m letting go, ha. I should just end this because this is a word vomit disguised as a writing and this kinda makes me hate myself for the lack of eloquency in it.

I’m listening to the song as I type, and when I wrote this part the lyrics says “take my hands now..” and all I can think about is I took his hands and never once let go since all those years ago when he first sang those words. Again, really cheesy..

I never said the title but the picture and everything I wrote for sure gave it away, so.. this ends here, I guess.

august 10th, 2019

masterlist | secreto