#hozier wrote this about them and you will never convince me otherwise

[tenthrees]

There’s something tragic about you. Something so magic about you. Don’t you agree?

-From Eden, Hozier

[fromthefishbowl]

10 italian songs that are terribly horny

Kind of a sequel of this post I wrote about the three Italian songs every Italian knows without fail, here comes another in the same vein and, as you might guess from the title of the post, they all are horny.

Because there’s absolutely no need to title your fic about Nicky losing his virginity after a Hozier song, when the Italian music scene of the 1970s has already blessed us with Cristiano Malgioglio!

Beware that this list features: threesomes, implied choking, implied masturbation, lengthy descriptions of dicks, and a whole lot of “dying”.

So, if you’re new to the Italian music scene, I bet you now have two questions: who is Malgioglio, and why is that “dying” in between quotes?

Cristiano Malgioglio is an Italian songwriter who has been working in the music industry since the early Seventies. Now known mostly for his flamboyant style and white strand of hair in his otherwise completely black head, he was a close friend of Fabrizio de Andrè, who was actually the one who introduced him to the music world. He has written a lot of songs that are LGBT+ themed and has always been very open about his sexuality, to the point that he has never even felt the need of coming-out. Out of the ten songs here presented, he has written three of them, and one of them is about one of his boyfriends.

As the censorship didn’t allow for song lyrics to be too explicit, songwriters and singers had found a way around it: rather than saying “coming” or “orgasming”, they would go with “dying”, which was a lot more elegant and could be inserted in literally every song without the censors being able to complain. And, trust me, there’s a lot of dying.

Here is the list, from the least horny to the most horny.

Chi Non Lavora (1970), by Adriano Celentano

Link to lyrics and translation here.

Commonly called Autunno Caldo (Hot Autumn), the workers strike that begun in 1969 and dragged itself into the August 1970 greatly influenced this piece (but for all the wrong reasons). Workers were demanding safer working conditions, which had been completely ignored up until that point. As the days went on and the more people joined the protests, the police got more and more violent, to the point that they had begun shooting people on sight. This caused a huge uproar from the protestors, and when the voice that people had been shot and harmed by the law enforcement, even more workers and even students joined the fight. Through a year of strikes, they forced the Italian government to create a new set of laws that would protect both workers and students.

The song mocks this movement: the singer complains about the fact that, since he is on a strike two days out of three, he cannot give his wife enough money and therefore she’s going on a strike too and won’t have sex with him. Basically this song is nothing but the woes of a privileged, extremely wealthy man who thinks that people protesting for the rights of a safe work environment is inopportune and stupid.

The only reason why I included this song is because “Chi non lavora non fa l’amore” (Those who don’t work don’t make love) is still very much used to this day. If you want a piece of media that actually explores the protests and the work environment of the time, I suggest watching La Classe Operaia va in Paradiso (The Working Class goes to Heaven), a movie from 1971.

10 Ragazze per Me (1969), by Lucio Battisti

Link to lyrics and translation here.

Lucio Battisti is a national treasure and if I’ll ever do more of these, he’s surely going to end up in more of them. Whereas De Andrè would write more traditional music and focus on the lyrics, Battisti’s music was a lot more danceable and his lyrics a lot lighter, usually focusing on loneliness and heartbreaks rather than social issues.

In this song, the protagonist is bragging about how he wants ten girls for himself, all for different reasons (one because she knows how to dance, the other because she’s a virgin, that other one because she has been with everybody but him). It is soon revealed, however, that the only reason why he’s doing it is because he’s still thinking about a very specific girl who broke his heart.

Remembering the note above, peep that “And red lips to die upon”.

Gelato al Cioccolato (1979), by Pupo

Link to lyrics and translation here.

First song written by Cristiano Malgioglio and also the one about his ex! And yes, it was sung by another man, but... oh, well. The lyrics are the same.

I feel like the only thing I need to say, about this song, is to quote it directly: “Chocolate ice cream, sweet and a little salty”. And that’s it, because the subtext is right there and it’s impossible to miss what it implies.

What I think should be added is the fact that the singer had absolutely no idea of what the song was about. Like none. It was only in 2007 that Malgioglio told him that he had been inspired to write it after spending a torrid summer in Tunisia, where he had gotten a boyfriend with whom he’d often get ice cream.

Carlo Martello Ritorna dalla Battaglia di Poitiers (1967), by Fabrizio de Andrè

Link to lyrics and translation here.

Translating this song absolutely murdered me: Paolo Villaggio, one of De Andrè’s best friends and an extremely important figure in Italian entertainment history, wrote it to play over Middle Ages sounding music, so the words chosen and the way sentences are structured are reminiscing of that time, and it was incredibly hard to find English words that matched.

This said, it’s possibly one of De Andrè’s most light-hearted songs (probably because he and Villaggio wrote it while their wives were giving birth to their sons), even if it does mention social issues.

King Charles Martel comes home from Poitiers but has lost the key to his wife’s chastity cage, so he doesn’t even go home before looking for another girl that can quench his thirst. He sees a beautiful maiden taking a bath and, seduced, convinces her to have sex with him. It is only when he has finished that she reveals that she’s actually a prostitute and now he has to pay her, but he runs away before doing so (but still after having complained about the rising prices).

The lyrics of this song were censored and fought against by the censorship so much that, even to this day, records with the uncensored version are extremely difficult to find.

Una Carezza in un Pugno (1968), by Adriano Celentano

Lyrics and translation here.

Yes, another Celentano song. I don’t like him either, it’s just that we cannot get rid of him for some reason.

Anyways, here we begin to get into hotter waters, as this song is about a man asking his girlfriend to think of him while she masturbates. Of course, since he cannot be left out of the question, he will think of her while he jerks off too.

Basically, unlike what a first read might make you think, the “fist” he makes while thinking of her is not because he wants to beat her up.

Il Triangolo (1978), by Renato Zero

Lyrics and translation here.

Renato Zero is another extremely flamboyant personality of the Italian music scene, and “Il Triangolo” is one of the songs of his that are best known.

As the title may suggest, this song is about a threesome. The protagonist goes on a date with their boyfriend and finds out that he has brought a second man, with the intention of convincing said protagonist to have a threesome. Although at first they need a little convincing, the protagonist then agrees to it and finds out they enjoy it a lot, to the point of coming to the conclusion that “Geometry is not a crime”!

Kobra (1980), by Donatella Rettore

Lyrics and translation here.

This song is about dicks, there’s no way around it and there’s nothing else to say. The singer sees a certain man and thinks about his dick, getting wet and fantasizing about the many things she could do with said dick. That’s it.

Pensiero Stupendo (1978), by Patty Pravo

Lyrics and translations here.

Second threesome song!

Unlike “Il Triangolo”, this song is a lot more subtle. It’s clear what the singer is talking about, but the lyrics are not as on the nose and leave more to the audience to feel it, rather than hearing it through words.

The song begins with the three people part of the threesome that are already doing it, and are still doing it by the time the song ends. It’s not about the act in and on itself, but more about the sensations it brings.

Ancora ancora ancora (1978), by Mina

Lyrics and translation here.

Second song written by Malgioglio!

Mina is probably one of the best known Italian singers, as her voice is said to be one of the best in recorded history and has an impressive rage of three octaves, so it really says something, the fact that this piece is so difficult that even her voice broke while holding a note (in an incredible way that only gives it character, but still).

The lyrics play with the fact that in Italian the word “ancora” can be translated and understood as “still”, “again”, and “more”. I couldn’t really give it justice in the translation, but it’s as if she was saying “Your hands still”, “Your hands again”, and “More of your hands” at the same time, and this kind of logic is repeated for every “ancora” she sings.

Even if the lyrics are suggestive, what was censored in this case was the video (the one linked with the song), as the close shots of the singer’s face, and especially of her mouth, were considered to be too sensual to be freely aired.

L’importante è Finire (1975), by Mina

Lyrics and translation here.

Third and last piece written by Malgioglio!

The story behind this song is a little nebulous, but I have read that apparently Malgioglio wrote it for Dori Ghezzi, De Andrè’s wife, but that that project never came to life and, in the meantime, he had managed to meet Mina, and had tried to get her to sing it. But... not sure if this story is directly related to the song in question or not.

Anyways, even for this piece it’s impossible to escape it’s meaning, to the point that, even if it didn’t contain any forbidden words, it was censored anyways for weeks, forbidding radios to air it and Mina to sing it on TV. However, people were so eager to listen to it that it still managed to climb the charts and was, eventually, allowed on air.

[cruelangelstheses]

something lonesome

fandom: dragon age rating: G characters: fenris/m!hawke, original child character, anders words: 3k additional tags: canon compliant, kid fic, some implied past violence description: when fenris finds an orphaned elven child in the kirkwall alienage, all he knows is that he has to help her somehow. a/n: hello everyone!! i wrote this fic for the @fenriszine and now that the orders have been shipped out i can finally post it!! :D i’m thinking about writing more fics in this ‘verse as well :0 title is from “from eden” by hozier

read it on ao3

—

The alienage is so busy, Fenris almost doesn’t hear the cries—almost.

It’s not rare to hear an infant wailing, but this is different. It’s plaintive, almost mournful, the howl of someone crushed under the weight of a terrible loss. Intrigued, Fenris stops in his tracks and listens closely, furrowing his brow. Some elves bump into him or brush past him, shaking their heads or muttering something under their breath. After a few seconds of standing in the middle of the street like a fool, he hears it again: tiny, high-pitched sobs.

Fenris had planned on just dropping off the food for Merrill and then leaving the alienage before he could get roped into anything. Too late for that now, it seems.

Turning his head to the side, he quickly pinpoints the probable source of the sound: an alleyway partially hidden by barrels and the shadows of buildings. When he takes a few steps forward, his suspicions are confirmed—the cries get louder the closer he gets.

At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be anything in the alley. Fenris peers behind one of the barrels, and there he spots the perpetrator, huddled in the dirt and the darkness: an elven child, probably no older than four, curled up in the fetal position.

The child must have heard his footsteps, or otherwise sensed his presence, because she lifts her head up abruptly, revealing a reddened and tear-streaked face. Her skin is only a shade or two lighter than his, and her pointed ears protrude from underneath a mess of long, tangled black hair. Upon seeing Fenris towering over her, the girl gasps, her bright green eyes widening in fear.

Fenris isn’t quite sure what to do, so he holds his hands up in a universal gesture of surrender. “Hold on,” he says, his voice steady. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The girl sniffles and wipes at her eyes, her lip trembling. She doesn’t seem all that convinced.

Fenris kneels down in front of her. “What happened?” he asks softly, trying his best to adopt a less threatening demeanor, a difficult task when he looks quite...well, threatening.

Unexpectedly, the girl stands up and points toward the alienage, her expression suddenly solemn. Without a word, she steps out into the street, gesturing for him to follow her. Fenris raises a confused eyebrow and rises to his feet.

The girl scurries halfway across the alienage, darting in between groups of elves and ducking underneath their hands. Fenris, being much larger than her, almost crashes into a few of them in his effort to keep track of her. Finally he finds her standing in front of a little home similar to Merrill’s, only Merrill’s front door has never been knocked off its hinges (as far as he knows). It lies broken against the wall, a signifier to all who enter that the rest of the place will probably be in a similar state.

“Is this your house?” Fenris asks the girl. She nods.

When he steps into the main room, he catches the distinct scent of corpses and burnt flesh. He doesn’t even need to see the bodies to get an idea of what may have happened—one glance at the broken furniture, bloodstains, charred wood, and half-frozen weapons is enough.

The first body he finds is that of a templar, badly burned, lying near the entrance to the back room. Fenris already knows what he’ll find on the other side, but he forces himself to take a look.

The smell of death is worse in this room, where pools of blood surround two dead elves on the floor. Though neither wear mage robes, the woman holds a staff in her hand; the man seems to have fought with daggers.

“They came for Mama.”

Fenris jumps at the sound of the voice and spins around to see the young girl standing in front of him, speaking to him for the first time. “They wanted to...to take her away,” she continues. “She didn’t want to. And Papa didn’t want her to. And things got scary. So I ran.”

“I...I see,” Fenris says slowly. Templars sometimes take children of mages away, to be raised by the Chantry—perhaps they never found her after she fled the house. “And you have no other family that could take you in?”

The girl shakes her head.

It doesn’t take long for Fenris to come to a decision. He can’t just leave her here. With an awkward half-smile, an attempt at comfort, he says, “Well, I suppose you will just have to come with me for the moment.”

The girl narrows her eyes in confusion. “Huh?”

“I can help you find somewhere to stay,” he explains. “Will that be alright?”

Some part of his mind wonders if it’s silly to negotiate with a child. He hasn’t had much experience with them; he wouldn’t know. But the way the girl looks at him—with trust and possibly even respect—makes him think that it isn’t, or it shouldn’t be.

“Yes,” the girl says finally. “Thank you, messere.”

For a moment, Fenris wonders if he heard her correctly. Messere—the title one uses when speaking to someone of greater social status in the Free Marches. It’s a title he never expected anyone to be able to use for him, not even a four-year-old. Clearly her parents taught her to be polite. Caught off guard, he says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “I—yes, well—you’re welcome. But, ah, feel free to call me Fenris instead.”

“Okay,” the girl says. “Um...I’m Lyra.”

“Lyra,” Fenris repeats. He likes the way it feels on his tongue. “Well, then, Lyra. Let’s find a place for you, shall we?”

—

“Finding a place” for Lyra turns out to be a much more difficult task than Fenris expected. The Kirkwall Chantry isn’t willing to take in the elven daughter of a mage, so he couldn’t give her to them even if he wanted to. The elves in the alienage are already struggling under the weight of poverty, so none of them can afford another mouth to feed, and none of the other humans want an elven child.

Lyra, for her part, doesn’t seem to want human parents, either. Already naturally shy and skittish, she shrinks in fear whenever Fenris tries to introduce her to a human acquaintance, even Hawke, who has always been popular with children. Hawke offers to take her in—says the estate feels too big and empty without his mother in it—but when Fenris mentions this to Lyra, she simply shakes her head furiously. It doesn’t matter that two dwarves and an elven servant also live there; all that matters is that there is a human.

That just leaves Varric and Merrill, and Varric respectfully declines. “The Hanged Man is no place for a child,” he says, and Fenris is inclined to agree. Merrill offers, but she can barely take care of herself at the moment, so focused on her mirror that she forgets to eat—that��s the whole reason Fenris was even in the alienage that day. It very rapidly becomes clear that Lyra will probably have to stay at his place for a little while, a prospect that alarms him far more than it should for reasons he can’t quite describe.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed about the mansion; it’s as good as anywhere else, and he likes the idea of destroying things that Danarius considers “his,” of letting a symbol of depravity crumble around him. Still, he feels the need to warn Lyra about its deterioration so that she isn’t surprised by the stark contrast between it and the surrounding mansions.

Lyra, however, is in awe of the place, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the double staircases, the statues, the high ceiling. As he leads her up the stairs, she asks timidly, “How come you don’t live in the alienage?”

“It’s a long story,” Fenris replies. “Let’s just say I got lucky.”

The irony of that phrase isn’t lost on him. Having been a slave isn’t exactly something to be envious of.

—

Days turn into weeks with Lyra living in Fenris’s mansion. He doesn’t mind, necessarily, and he has enough coin to feed them both, but Aveline is getting antsy. It’s been hard enough for her to hide an elven adult squatting in a deteriorating Hightown manor; adding a child to the mix has only made the neighbors more suspicious. No one has contacted her about actually taking Lyra, though, even temporarily, so there’s nowhere else for the poor kid to go.

Besides, Fenris realizes that he actually rather likes her. She’s quick and clever, but he soon discovers that she can also be playful once she gets comfortable. Sometimes she asks him to tell her a story, only for her to argue with him the whole way through. Occasionally, he’ll find her trying to lift one of his weapons or playing with kitchen knives. She’ll sneak up on him to startle him or climb onto his back while he’s sitting and demand a piggyback ride—but she also listens when he speaks seriously and comes to him when she gets upset.

Fenris can’t watch her all the time, obviously, since Hawke is always bringing him on some sketchy mission or another, but that’s where Bodahn comes in. Lyra takes to him and Sandal immediately, and she seems to see Orana as almost an older sister figure. When he and Hawke return, though, she shrinks behind one of them at the sight of a human, a pitiful transformation from vibrant and animated to the terrified girl she was when Fenris found her.

Eventually she does warm up to Hawke, who still insists on visiting the mansion for reading lessons, but it takes some time. At first, she just sits on the other side of the room, watching them carefully without a word. It isn’t until Hawke’s third visit that she actually speaks to him, asking questions and making comments. Hawke, of course, takes it all in stride, and slowly but surely, Lyra starts to look at him not with fear but with awe.

After close to three years, the sessions aren’t so much “lessons” as “Fenris reading books to Hawke and occasionally stumbling over a word or two.” Fenris constantly reminds him that he doesn’t have to do this anymore, but still Hawke visits once a week, a grin on his face and a book in hand. “He’s just using it as an excuse to visit you,” Isabela said about it once, smirking, but Fenris didn’t quite believe it. He still doesn’t.

It’s during one of these sessions that Fenris notices something different about Lyra. She seems more subdued than usual—at this point, she’s gotten comfortable enough to make comments about the story they’re reading from underneath the desk, where she likes to sit and listen (while playing with Fenris’s toes). Today, though, she doesn’t say much of anything, not even at a major plot twist that nearly makes Fenris toss the novel across the room. He tries to engage her by asking what she thinks, but the most he gets out of her is a noncommittal grunt or a one-word answer.

At first, he figures she’s probably just grumpy. After Hawke leaves, though, Fenris hears her coughing.

“Lyra?” he says, peering underneath the desk. He finds her lying on the ground, cheeks flushed, breathing labored, forehead beading with sweat. At the sound of his voice, she gazes up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Fenris tries not to immediately launch into a panic. “Lyra, how long have you been feeling like this?”

“Since...yesterday,” she says weakly. “Got worse...today.”

Fenris groans and runs a hand through his hair, mentally kicking himself. He noticed that she seemed drowsier than usual this morning, but other than that, she showed no outward signs of sickness. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want...to worry you,” Lyra says, closing her eyes and coughing again.

Fenris’s mind races, and the solution comes to him almost instantly. Breathing deeply and trying to sound calm, he says, “Listen. I’m going to take you to a human in Darktown. He is good at what he does. Nothing bad will happen to you.”

Lyra doesn’t protest. When he picks her up, her head lies limp on his shoulder.

—

The sun is almost below the horizon by the time Fenris reaches the clinic and shoves the door open.

Anders is the only one there, in the process of cleaning a bloody cot when he looks up and registers Fenris’s presence. “What—?” he starts, narrowing his eyes in confusion, before his gaze drops to the now-unconscious child in Fenris’s arms. “Oh, no.”

“Do something,” Fenris says, almost pleading.

Anders doesn’t hesitate. Gesturing to a clean cot nearby, he says, “Lay her down over there.”

Fenris spends most of his time in the clinic pacing back and forth, agitated, his focus always on Anders and Lyra. He should have noticed sooner. He should have paid closer attention to her. He should have made sure she knew to come to him. He should have—

“Fenris.” Anders’s voice breaks through his panicked thoughts. Fenris glances over at him, at the way his hands glow with bright blue light as they hover over Lyra. Without looking up from her, Anders says, “She’ll be alright.”

Automatically, Fenris breathes a sigh of relief and sits down on the next cot over, watching them. “It’s a pretty common illness,” Anders continues. “Children just aren’t as resistant to it because their bodies haven’t built up immunity yet. She’ll have to stay here overnight so I can keep an eye on her, but after that she should be fine.”

Fenris nods slowly. He’ll admit, Lyra already looks a bit better. “I...thank you,” he says, somewhat awkwardly.

“It’s nothing.”

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then Anders finally looks up at him with the faintest smile and says, not unkindly, “You’ve gotten quite attached to her, haven’t you?”

That catches Fenris off-guard. He opens his mouth to deny it, but he can’t come up with any plausible excuse. It’s only been about a month and a half, but in that time he’s come to enjoy Lyra’s presence in his life. He hates to think of anything bad happening to her, and he’ll be sad to see her go with another family.

“I...suppose,” he mutters, but now that someone has actually said it, it can’t be ignored. He has gotten attached. It’s almost pathetic.

—

About two weeks later, Fenris learns that Varania is in Kirkwall.

When he returns from the Hanged Man that fateful day, Lyra bombards him with questions. “How did it go? What did she look like? Was she nice? What did you talk about? Am I gonna get to meet her?”

Fenris only answers the last one. “No,” he says brusquely as he opens the door to the mansion. “You will not get to meet her.”

Lyra frowns. “Why not?”

Fenris sighs. “Because sometimes there is a difference between being linked by blood and being family.”

He says it offhandedly, a statement filled with bitterness and loneliness, but as the words leave his mouth, he glances down at the child he’s been caring for and realizes that perhaps it’s true in more ways than one.

—

The next day, things start to fall into place.

Danarius is dead. He is free to do whatever he wishes. More importantly, though, Hawke is still there. Hawke wants to be there. As they talk, Fenris wonders if perhaps Isabela was on to something. He’s never felt such longing in his life, never allowed himself to—but Hawke has proven to be an exception more times than Fenris can count.

When they finally, finally kiss, Fenris feels his chest brim with something akin to hope. He can still have a future. He can still have a family.

As if on cue, Lyra waltzes into the room about four seconds later. “Ewww!” she groans, sticking her tongue out and immediately walking away. “I knew it! I knew you were like Mama and Papa! I knew it!”

Hawke and Fenris separate almost instantly. Fenris can feel his cheeks heating up. Hawke mutters, “How much tension must we have had, for even a four-year-old to figure it out?”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Fenris replies. “She is quite clever.”

Hawke nods and scratches his beard in thought. “You know, speaking of the future,” he says slowly, “what are you planning to do about her?”

Fenris pauses before finally speaking the ludicrous idea that’s been bouncing around in his head. “I’ve...been considering...keeping her. Raising her.”

He waits for Hawke to call him crazy, but it never happens. Instead, Hawke grins and says, “Two can play at that game.”

Fenris just smiles and kisses him again.

—

It happens a week later, at the estate.

One minute, Lyra is running around the house with Sandal. The next, she’s sobbing on the floor, despite not being visibly injured. Fenris and Hawke both rush over to her and kneel down to see her better. Sniffling, she says, “I can tell you anything, right?”

“Of course,” Fenris replies immediately.

“Okay,” Lyra says, wiping at her eyes. “I was...just playing with Sandal, but then…”

She holds her palms out. Almost immediately, a tiny flame starts to form at her fingertips. Fenris thinks back to Lyra’s mother, dead on the floor with a staff in hand.

Lyra buries her head into Fenris’s shoulder. “Don’t let them take me,” she pleads.

Hawke and Fenris exchange glances, but if he’s being completely honest with himself, there was never any doubt. Hawke is a strong mage, a skilled mage, raised by an apostate. If anyone can teach Lyra to control her powers, it’s him.

“We won’t,” Fenris says softly, pulling her into an embrace. “They will not take you from us. Nothing bad will happen to you.”

[palmettoes]

Choke by I don’t how but they found me. Fuck U by archive. Coma baby by Nicole dollanger. Medication by young blud. The drugs by mother mother. Could have been me by the struts. Body by mother mother. Bang by armchair cynics. My heart goes bum bum bum by flatsound. Everyone but you by the front bottoms. The weight by amber run. Guillotine by Jon Bellion. Crush by Tessa violet. Forest fire by Brighton. Mars by sleeping at last. It will come back by hoizer. Flaws by bastille. & AddictOfTheGallery

damn anon went OFF bless u this took me so long to reply to cause i had to listen to every song all the way through buT here we go thank u (it’s under the cut bc there was a Lot to unpack here)

send me andreil song recs and i’ll tell you my favourite line

choke: this !!! is the best song i’ve ever heard for book 1 andreil omg !!!!! “lock the fire escapes / i’ll break your pretty face” oh thIS is a good andrew @ neil line, plus the entire chorus SCREAMS andrew on meds especially “if i could burn this town / i wouldn’t hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die”

fuck u: djrjfhdjs im gonna be honest i didn’t add this one bc it was too mean and i’m weak for soft love bUT this line “makes me sick when i hear all the shit that you say / so much crap coming out it must take you all day” yeah i can see andrew saying that to neil sjdjf

coma baby: liSTEN did i ASK for this im cjfdyrjfd this is so sad WHAT okay like “i wish i’d find all the lonely remnants of you that left when your head cracked open” that line is pure poetry anyway but applied to andreil ??? im in pain ???? and “you’re just the shell of the boy that you’ve been” oKAY FUCK OFF IM CRYING

medication: (blows a kiss to ellie bc yungblud is her bf) oh mannn this as an andrew song works ?? so well ??? like “doctor says don’t fight that feeling / but my head is stuck to the ceiling” mmm andrew while high? i think yes ,,, and “my heart is a bomb / it just ticks along” yeah YEAH that makes me think of him insTANTLY

the drugs: OH SHIT YEAH this is what im talking about !!!!!! “cause you’re hotter than the sun / and you’re better than the drugs i used to love” damn yeah say it loUDER neil is hot and andrew loves him thanks fr coming to this collaborative ted talk

could have been me: OOF this is ,, a big mood for both of them ngl i mean the chorus ?? fits them both so well ??? and “don’t wanna live as an untold story / rather go out in a blaze of glory” neil is that u ???? also “dodging bullets with your broken past” is a good summary for the series tbh

body: like firstly this song is just a whole mood for me anyway “take my heart, pull it apart” thAts an andreil line if ever i heard one also “take my lungs / take them and run” my brain just violently yeeted an image of neil at me when i heard this

bang: aahhhh this one !!!! oh my god !!!!! “baptised by your kiss and now i’m born again / bite your lip / wrap my hands around your head and pull you in” is my favourite part bc that !! is so andreil !!!! but also “i need your kiss like the ocean needs a breeze” and “break the skin cause i can’t tell where your body ends and mine begins” are big moods for these two

my heart goes bum bum bum: yes YES okay so many good lines in this honestly but my favourites are “you smell like the devil but you feel like the lord” bc wow imagery and also andrew @ neil ,,, also “i didn’t dodge all your bullets / just denied that they hit me” yeAH andrew wrote this line u can’t convince me otherwise. but of course the REAL kicker is “the only reason you breathe is to sleep through the night / the only reason you speak is to tell me i’m fine” i me an yall know EXACTLY who im thinking of huh ,,,

everyone but you: duDE i love the front bottoms ahsdhfjs i never twigged this as an andreil song but ??? “i fell in love cause no one saw me the way you did / and no one’s seen me that way since” oh bitCH U RIGHT

the weight: first, thanks for putting the imagery of neil waking up early and watching andrew slowly wake up thats so soft asjdfjds also “i don’t want money and i don’t want god / i just want to live under the weight of your love” that is such a HEAVY romantic line and i love it for them

guillotine: coincidentally this is already on my andreil playlist jsjdsj i loVE IT my favourite is “the secrets you tell me i’ll take to my grave / there’s bones in my closet but you hang stuff anyway” like the bones in the closet metaphor is a GOOD one for andreil and obviously secrets ,,, u kno ,,, go d this song is so so good for them fjsjd im falling in love with it all over again

crush: oH this is such a haPPY vibe for andreil like ,, they’re so intense in canon sometimes i forget that andrew minyard really just has a massive crush on neil fjfshdjf they’re such doRKS anyway “i can’t focus on what needs to get done / i’m on notice hoping that you don’t run” uhHH andrew throughout the series just like being unable to do ANYTHING bc he can’t stop thinking about neil

forest fire: fuCK this is another sad one what !! are you doing to me !!! im crying !!!! fjasj but again so many good andreil lines like “i’m not strong / i should have saved you” and “i hope you know / that you’re my home / but now i’m lost” andrew mood during the riot + neil disappearing !!!!!! i think my favourite tho is “i’m gonna carry your bones / i’m gonna carry them all / i’m gonna carry you home” like thanks thinking about this is making me CRY but i love it

mars: this is also sad but like ,, soft ,,, like “we found our way back home / let our cuts and bruises heal” hell yeah they did !!!! they did that !!! they’re healing !!! and “there is goodness in the heart of every broken man / who comes right up to the edge of losing everything he has” this is a good mantra for the foxes in general i feel anyway im in pAIN

it will come back: hozier ,,, that’s my bitch ,,,, noah fence but my heart beats to the tempo of this song but anYWAY for andreil i love the line “i’ve known the warmth of your doorways / through the cold i’ll find my way back to you” but also the whole “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it” is definitely andrew @ neil lbr

flaws: this is on my playlist already too oh mAN this is just like THE andreil song asjdj it’s so good ,, the part that always gets me going is “there’s a hole in my soul / can you fill it?” because um yeah ,, but i also love “look at the wonderful mess that we made / we pick ourselves undone” anyway like these boys are so good for each other can u beLIEVE

addict of the gallery: aaaa this is making me sad again sjdsjjd there are some truly beautiful lines here i love “i’m hanging up in a room full of silence / bleeding colours from the pain and the violence” and “i’m a complicated mess that i’ve come to accept” they remind me a lot of andrew rhjfsj i love him so much but he makes me cry