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mysteria157 · 15 days

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Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come.

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her.

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you?

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?”

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams.

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can.

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

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crucifiedfaerie · 7 months

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Gods & Monsters ༉₊˚✧

GodOfDeath!Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader AU

(THIS IS A DARK!FIC PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS AND THE AUTHORS NOTE BEFORE PROCEEDING !!!)

➴ Summary: Death has followed you like a shadow your entire life. After losing everything, you call out to him in a moment of desperation. Maybe that was his plan all along.

➴ Word Count: 2.2k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI under any circumstances, DARK!FIC, fem!reader, dom!kylo, a lot of angst, BLOOD, major and minor character death, reader is suicidal, kylo is the god of death, kylo is obsessive, selfish, and manipulative, stalker!kylo, reader is naïve, a little soft!kylo bc he loves her but again he's selfish so should i really call it that ??, soul selling, SMUT (manipulation therefore DUB-CON, very rough sex, unprotected PiV sex, sadist!kylo for a second ??, naked sub/fully clothed dom, dacryphilia kind of, light bruising, blasphemy and sacrilege), typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys did i just lowkey write a snuff fic? maybe. (yes) its left up to you to decide if this has a happy ending or not. kylo is selfish and manipulative, yeah, but hes also sexy and in love so idek how to feel myself. @enviedear and i have been playing around with the idea of godofdeath!kylo in our dms so special thanks to liv my beloved <3 i hope you guys enjoy and i also completely understand if some of you aren't chill with the themes of this fic.

It appeared that death followed you wherever you went, trailing behind you like an invisible shadow you couldn't escape. It started when you were younger with any pet you would get mysteriously dying, you don't know when but at some point you had given up on trying to keep them. Friends and family followed suit over the years, all of them as tragic as the last one. It was as if Death was puppeteering your life, tugging on the strings that held your heart together... and you didn't quite understand why.

You couldn't seem to remember what it was you'd been thinking about on your walk home. Maybe it was what your mother had decided to make for dinner. You stared at the pot still boiling in the eerily quiet kitchen. Or perhaps it was how you had promised your sister you'd play with her when you came home. Your eyes darted to the toys that had been carelessly scattered over the floor of your family's shared bungalow, noticing how a light mist of crimson coated them.

You tried to remember, but one singular word kept interrupting your thoughts. Blood. All you could smell... was blood.

You tried to scream but it was as if the air had been stolen from your lungs. All you could see was red. Red. Red everywhere. On the floors. On the walls. When you saw them, the shriek that escaped your heaving chest pierced the silence of your home, bouncing off the walls and ringing in your ears.

Your family was dead. Slaughtered and discarded on the floor as if they were simply livestock.

As you backed away, you nearly slipped in the puddle you realized you were standing in. The sticky, wet sound your shoes made as you moved was revolting and you felt acid burning at your throat. You stumbled into the living room, just barely making it to the soft carpet before falling to your knees. You heaved, but nothing happened, your empty stomach having nothing for your body to forcibly expel.

You collapsed to the floor, body wracked with sobs. You screamed and screamed until you thought your vocal cords might tear.

Gone. They're all gone.

You don't know how long it had been. Maybe hours, maybe days. You laid there, your screams subsided to sobs and you wanted nothing more than to be with them... No, you wanted to be them.

Why couldn't it have been me? Why my mother? Why my sister? Please, I just want to die. Please Please.

For what felt like an eternity, you silently begged for death. How ironic, you thought, that you begged for the thing that had taken everything from you. You had already dealt with plenty of loss to last you several lifetimes, and now you had lost the last two people you loved. There was no physical pain on this planet that would ever compare to what you felt now. You only wanted it to be over.

You saw something out of the corner of your eye. A tall, dark figure, lurking in the shadowy corner of the room. You looked up, attempting to blink the tears from your raw eyes, unable to make out any distinct features of the being that stood before you.

"You- Did you do this?!" You sobbed. "Did you k-kill my..." You couldn't even say it. If you said it out loud, that meant it was real.

The figure stepped forward, allowing light from the window to cast down upon him. Your teary eyes widened as you realized who this man... this being, was. The aquiline nose, dark locks, and scar that trailed down his cheek you'd recognize anywhere. Kylo Ren, the God of Death, stood before you. You had only heard of him in legends, but he was even more marvelous looking in person.

"I do not take. I only collect." Ren said firmly, yet a hint of compassion laced his words, making you feel... safe? In any other situation, you would have laughed at the idea of feeling safe around the literal personification of death itself, but you were in no mood for laughing. He continued. "I hear souls call out to me, and I answer."

"My family... who did this? Why wasn't I-" You choked out, weakly pointing to the adjacent room behind you. You began to sob again, feeling hot tears run down your face.

"Raiders..." Ren knelt on the floor in front of you, getting down to your level before continuing. "Sweet, mourning lamb, there's nothing you could have done. They went quickly, I made sure of that." He reached out a large hand to gingerly wipe the tears from your face, and you melted into the divine warmth of his fingers.

"Did you come b-back for me too? Please, I don't want to be here anymore- I can't do it without them, please! I'm nothing!" You begged him through sobs.

"Not to me." Ren sighed calmly, a sympathetic smile resting on his expression. "I do not answer the calls of souls whose time are not up... but you're different, special..." He trailed off, his voice still firm but sounding like he was was pondering something.

"I don't understand..." Your voice was just above a whisper.

Ren paused for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence as his dark eyes scanned yours. He held out his hand to you and finally spoke. "I want you to join me. Let it all die, let everything go, and I will give you what you so wish for."

Your eyes widened at his request, staring into his intense gaze. "Join you?" You croaked.

He nodded slightly. "Rule by my side, little lamb. I feel so drawn to you, I always have... And I know you've felt it too." His tone was soft, but there was a small shred of desperation there.

"And everyone I love? My family and friends?... Will I see them again?" You began to turn your head to look at the door to the kitchen, but a strong hand grabbed your chin at light speed, turning your head to look at him again.

"No- You're still... Holding on! Let go!" Ren raised his voice, startling you. He was inches from your face and his eyes were filled with pure panic, as if he were afraid you were changing your mind.

Memories of your family and friends played like a movie reel in your head. So many moments that you'd never get back. They were gone, and you'd never see them again. What's done is done and you had nothing now.

But as you stared into Ren's wild, dark eyes, you saw an offer being handed to you that you couldn't refuse. An option to never be alone again. To forget every detail of your life as it stands. To not feel the pain that laid so heavily on your heart and soul.

I understand.

You inhaled sharply before placing your shaking and much smaller hand in his. "I'll join you." You said it so quietly, you weren't sure if he had even heard it.

Ren certainly did, however, and within seconds he pounced, closing the gap between you. It was as if your words were an invitation he had been eagerly waiting for and his warm lips crashed into your cold, trembling ones. You felt every emotion at once coursing through your body, and you thought you might spontaneously combust at any moment.

The kiss of death.

He did not pull away though, he only continued to kiss you with more urgency. He pushed you backwards until your back was pressed against the plush carpet. When you touched him, he felt like he was made of marble. As if you needed any more emphasis on the fact that this was no human man that loomed over you.

Ren's large hands began to explore your body, his fingers running along your sides, causing a warm bolt of electricity to shoot through your core. You instinctually moaned against his mouth, and you felt him smirk.

He trailed his mouth down your neck, leaving red and purple marks, before pulling away to admire his work. "You already look so divine in this life... I can't begin to imagine what you'll look like in the next." Ren's voice was low, smooth, and his words dripped with honey. It elicited another moan from you, causing him to let out a dark chuckle.

At near light speed, he practically ripped your clothes off, pulling your shirt over your head first before making quick work of your pants and underwear. You were left naked and writhing on the floor as you watched him work at his belt, kneeling over you.

You couldn't help but think of how morally wrong this all was. This was no simple kiss of death... No, this was blasphemous. Sacrilegious in every sense of the word and you... loved it. You loved how your body betrayed you every chance it got, ignoring every single alarm bell that rang in the part of your brain that clutched onto what little was left of your sanity. It was exhilarating.

With quick fingers, Ren freed his cock from the confines of his pants, causing it to spring upwards. You marveled at him, wondering if maybe this was his weapon of choice. Maybe he would impale you on his dick and literally fuck you to death. You saw him smirk as if he had heard your thought. He most certainly did.

You watched, your body trembling, as he lined himself up with your entrance. Ren did not give you a moment to think before slamming himself into you, bottoming out within seconds. Your view of him was clouded by white-hot stars and he watched as your face contorted from the pain and pleasure of being split in two by him.

Ren's thrusts were erratic, unrelenting as he plowed into your cunt. His fingers dug into your hips, surely leaving bruises... not that it would matter tomorrow. You were completely cock drunk, under some divine spell he had surely cast over you. "Feels... s-s-so.... g-" You trailed off, lost in the violent pleasure he inflicted on your small frame.

He chuckled at your futile attempt to form a sentence. "Look at you, little lamb. Already coming undone at my hand. You want release so badly don't you?" His voice was full of compassion but his words were laced with darkness.

You knew it wasn't only your impending climax that he was referring to. You whined, your eyes welling with tears as you nodded frantically. "Please." You let out in a choked sob.

Ren let out a moan and angled his hips to thrust into you deeper, hitting your g-spot again and again with each erratic snap of his hips. He leaned down slowly, his hair tickling your cheek. "Then let go, sweet thing. Let everything go." He whispered in your ear.

You became putty in Ren's hands as you came, clenching around his cock as he continued to violently plow into you. His lips found yours and he kissed you with wild desperation. After a few more thrusts, he followed suit, bottoming out one last time and letting out a groan as he came deep inside of your cunt.

As you came down from your high, you watched hazily as he fumbled with something on the side of his belt. Ren looked down at you with adoration, and with a swift movement of his hand, you felt ice-cold metal pressed against your naked chest.

When you looked down, it took you a moment to process what had happened. Ren had impaled you through the chest with his lightsaber... yet you felt no pain. Only an intense warmth that radiated through every cell of your body.

Your eyes darted up to his face, illuminated in the crimson glow of his weapon. His expression was soft, attentive. You tried to speak but only a choked whine came out, the air having been stolen from your lungs by the fiery plasma that crackled inside of you.

Ren quickly brought his hand up to hold the side of your face, wiping stray tears and gently stroking your jaw with his thumb. You didn't even realize you had started crying again and you began to taste copper. "Shhh, don't be frightened my mourning lamb. It will all be over soon, just let go... Let go, and you will be mine forever..." His voice was deep but it had a sickeningly sweet quality to it.

You couldn't fully decipher what he was saying, so you focused on how nice he sounded instead. How merciful, you thought, for this voice to be the last one you'd ever hear on this mortal plane.

Your vision began to tunnel in on Ren's face. You thought you heard him call you his mourning lamb. What was it you were mourning again? You couldn't seem to remember what originally got you into this situation. You couldn't seem to remember anything. Anything besides Kylo Ren, that is.

"Finally... At last, you are mine."

The last thing you saw was the smile on his face. There was something... dark about it. His eyes were intense and he looked excited, as if he were finally getting something he'd been waiting ages for. Before you could dwell on it for too long though, everything went black.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #star wars #starwars fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars sequel trilogy #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #saint writes !#crucifiedfaerie #dark!fic #kylo ren dark!fic #god!kylo au #kylo ren au

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split-spectrum · 11 months

Text

Pretty Young Thing

One-shot

Pairing: Obi-Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: Explicit content. Just filth. PWP. Listen, I just wanted to give this man a break. He deserves gratuitous sex and alcohol.

"No names."

It was the singular rule he had, in all the years you'd known him.

Was 'known' the right word? Did you consider yourself an acquaintance if you know exactly how slow he likes to fuck, but you don't ask him where his newest scar came from, and he doesn't ask you why you've moved apartments?

☆☆☆

Sometimes he had you repeat it back to him when you first started meeting; a sort of reassurance for him that nothing could follow him back to his life - back to reality. You would whisper it to him without hesitation.

"No names," he would remind you breathlessly while shedding his clothing, one hand remaining on your skin, his mouth inches from your ear.

"Don't worry," you would assure him.

He'd rake his fingers over your shoulders, pulling you closer and pressing his mouth urgently against yours. "Say it- say it back."

You would grin, always uncertain if he was asking to make sure you understood, or just working himself up more. He liked to hear the words, and you always knew by the way his body responded when you said them.

"No names."

Tonight, the words ring in your head as you lean against the bar, replaying the images of past nights in the back of your mind, waiting. You were always waiting on him.

That afternoon you'd heard he was back on Coruscant, and your last meeting of the day couldn't end soon enough. You both knew the time and place. If he was on the planet, you never missed the spot. Some nights he left you waiting until the bar closed, never making an appearance. But you knew if he could come, he would. And he was always worth the wait.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

You're surrounded by pulsing bodies and throbbing music which makes it nearly impossible to hear one individual over all the noise. But that voice will always get your attention.

He leans in closer as you tilt your gaze in his direction. "Or were you waiting for someone?"

You smile. "I was, but he's disappointed me before. I was just about to leave."

His eyebrows raise. "Anyone who would disappoint you must be very foolish." He pauses. "Or exceedingly disappointed, himself. The only thing that could be more important than a night with you would be the fate of the galaxy."

He adds another pause while your mouth twists in feigned displeasure. "...one would imagine."

His mouth slides into a grin, and you can't help but return it, the way his eyes sparkle when they meet yours. He pulls his attention away to signal the bartender, and when you take your drink and leave, he follows you to a dark corner. You turn to face him when you reach the wall, away from prying eyes.

You take a sip, while he downs half of his drink in a single, greedy swallow. He places the glass on a nearby table and stands next to you, first curling one arm around your back, slowly, then following it with the rest of his body to move behind you. He rests the back of a finger against your shoulder and smooths it down your bare arm as you continue to sip.

A shiver runs through you at his touch, and you keep staring forward. "Your hair is so long, now."

You feel him smile against your cheek when he presses himself closer to you. "Haven't had much time for a cut, I'm afraid."

"I like it," you tell him. "Makes you look younger."

He laughs, and you love the way it feels, the vibrations leaving his chest and sinking into your back. "I suppose I need all the help I can get."

A new song begins, changing the atmosphere from loud and fast-paced to a darker mood, more intense. His body starts to move against yours, rolling from his shoulders down to his waist. You lean into him, eyes closing when he lets his head come down to your shoulder and his beard tickles your neck. His rich, clean scent saturates your brain with thoughts only of him, and how much you've missed the feel of him against you.

You both get lost in the music for a long time, enjoying the escape of dancing without thinking. His arms surround you, and you turn to look at his face. The sickly lights of the scummy bar reflect over his features and he's positively radiant, as usual. You lean in for a kiss. His mouth welcomes you as it always does, perfect and soft, the taste of him as sweet as ever, even through the notes of liquor on his breath.

He returns your kiss with a languid swipe of his tongue, only breaking hesitantly away after a long moment to check your surroundings. You know he's looking to see if anyone is staring, but you take the opportunity to flag down someone walking past, carrying a tray of drinks. You exchange a few credits and press the shot into his hand.

"You need to loosen up."

He gives you another grin, his teeth glinting in the dim light as he throws back the shot. He doesn't react, doesn't squint, doesn't pause. It might well have been water, the way he instantly goes back to kissing you.

When his lips meet yours, everything else becomes a blur - the bar, the street outside, the back of the cab, your apartment. Details. Unimportant when he's tugging on your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over yours, parting your mouths to softly brush his thumb over your jaw. Only a brief moment seems to pass, and all at once you're keying in the code to the front door of your apartment.

You tumble through the door, kicking it closed behind you, and he's already pulling off his clothes. He drops his grey cloak at the door, stepping over it to push you toward the seating area of your living room. His hands fall to the waist of his pants, carelessly tugging at the hem of his shapeless blue shirt, pulling it over his head before you can even ask. His mouth is back at your neck as soon as he's free, his bare shoulders crowding you, pressing you down into the couch.

Your arms slide down his back and you suppress a whine at the way his fingers impatiently unfasten the front of your shirt. As soon as you feel his bare skin on yours, your hand plummets downward desperately. His hands have finished their work, pulling the front of your shirt open just as you make contact. He stops, back hunched, and drops his head forward. The way his locks of hair fall forward over his face is immaculate, and you take your time, just soaking in the sight of him.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed. The shadows of his eyelashes darken his face. You brush your hand over the length of him through his pants. His mouth falls open.

"Touch me," he whispers, leaning in to close his mouth over yours. "Touch me."

You pull your palm over the front of his pants, enjoying the shape of him, then dip your fingers below his waistband and start to stroke him, finally making contact with the warmth of his skin. You revel in the way he instantly thrusts against your open hand. You've barely grazed him and he's already bucking earnestly for more.

"I'm going to put on some music," you murmur into his ear, leaning upward and taking your hand out of the front of his clothes.

"Ngh?" he makes a desperate noise at the loss of contact and you smile at the way his gorgeous blue eyes gloss over with confusion, following your movements as you reach for a remote on the table nearby. You know he tends to lose himself even more when you play music for him.

It reminds you of the first time you did this. Years ago, when he was a fresh knight, barely more than a padawan, and you were just a senator's intern, newly arrived on the planet. He'd been so shy, so unsure of himself. So unsure of what he wanted. You'd chatted all night, and when you'd mentioned your love for music he'd invited you to listen to him play the quetarra back in his quarters. Of course he'd said he wasn't any good, only an amateur, but he'd played beautifully. Since that night you'd met at every opportunity throughout the changing of your respective careers. And never once had he asked your name. He insisted it kept him from forming an attachment, and you were only so happy to oblige, so long as he kept coming back.

The music is playing now, filling the apartment with quiet pulses of bass. No sooner have you put down the remote than he's sliding his leg between your knees, spreading them on the couch, and kissing your neck. His hand deftly unfastens the clasp of your belt and moves it to the side, slipping beneath the waist of your pants. He lets out a soft breath when his fingers drop easily between your legs. You're almost embarrassed at the way his hand is slicked with you, but he makes a quiet "Oh..." sound against your neck and it's instantly clear how much it turns him on.

He pulls back to look down at you, locking his eyes onto yours as he pushes two fingers inside you, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he grins wickedly at your response. You gasp, gripping the side of his forearm, muscles there tight as he starts to work his fingers inside you, brushing up against the perfect spot he knows will melt you into a whimpering mess.

It doesn't take long before you're biting back pitiful noises, writhing against him as he pulls your sanity apart. You're not above begging when it comes to him, and he knows it. He's waiting for it.

"Please..."

He cups your jaw in his hand and kisses you deeply, still pumping his fingers diligently, maddeningly.

"Anything. What is it?"

"Need you. Please. Please, fuck me."

All the lightness leaves his face at once. He's no longer in a playful mood when he tugs the front of your remaining clothes down, pressing one hand into the couch beside your head while the other wraps around his cock. His knees keep your legs spread, and in one fluid motion, he's inside you.

He doesn't even stop to let you process the sensation of him. He's inside you and his pace is immediate and perfect. Slow, steady, gorgeous. The only sound he makes when you're finally wrapped around him is a quiet panting, the usual rigid air about him being incrementally replaced with an animalistic state of zen.

You feel every inch of him, the way he gives it to you as if each movement is an artistic choice, building and building the warmth inside you until you're shamelessly moaning for more. You arch your back, giving him more room to fill you, and his pace finally stutters. You smirk at the way his eyes roll back.

"You feel incredible."

His hips start to snap, his rhythm faltering. "Don't... don't say things like that, or I won't... last..."

You can't help it. A groan escapes you at his admission and you buck your hips upward to meet him. "So good. So fucking... good."

"Stars," he gasps, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. "Shit-"

He pauses, clenching his jaw as if concentrating deeply, holding back. Finally, he rasps, "Darling, come for me."

He slides a hand between your legs and gently works his thumb over you, bringing you screaming over the edge all at once, your hands flying up to grip his neck, desperately grasping to make sure he keeps pounding into you while you whimper out your bliss.

He keeps his rhythm steady, working out every last drop of your orgasm until you're spent and gasping for air, before he finally begins to lose his composure, raggedly grinding into you. He brings a hand behind your head, fingers tangling into your hair while he finishes, his cock sliding in and out of you as his cum spills out between your legs, coating the insides of your thighs in a sticky, beautiful mess.

He stays inside you like this for a long time, arms shaking, as you both catch your breath. His face is glowing when he looks down at you, catching your lips in a messy half-smiling kiss.

You let out a deep sigh, brushing your hands through his hair when he finally slides out of you and collapses beside you. You're going to lie like this for as long as you can. Breathless, thoughtless, nameless, and wrapped in the arms of Obi Wan fucking Kenobi, you're going to fall asleep.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #star wars #fanfic #obi wan #obi wan fanfiction #obiwan #pwp #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x reader

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cocteaucherry · 4 months

Text

slowburn ༺

summary- slow burn with Nanami

cws- slow burn, tooth rotting fluff, suggestive comments, Nanami x reader, wing man gojo vry brief.

a/n-(inspired by slow burn by infinity song, I recommend listening to it while reading :3

Nanami knew it was stupid to wait for someone

Even more stupid if it was juvenile love

But he was waiting for you.

He wishes he could grow the balls to ask you out after all it’s been how many years , you two could qualify as a married couple with how your routines collide.

Every morning he would walk with you to the subway station, you both got off at the same station going your separate ways for work. He did corporate work, you worked as a pediatrician, you both went to lunch and he’d always bring a singular rose.

He’d walk you home first wishing you goodnight and giving you a hug, once your front door shut his fingers would rub each other relishing in the lasting touch of your soft skin. Even though he had already said goodnight he’d send another one.

kento: goodnight sweetheart, get good rest I’ll see you tomorrow morning ❤️

Sweetheart was a nickname he had given you, something innocent you thought but did you want something innocent?

Nanami had grown love sick, he had also grown insecure, after all these years, would you want him? He hadn’t even had his first kiss or first time yet would you want someone experienced? Then he bought himself back to reality, you were a sweetheart (while petty at times) you weren’t shallow.

Even after all these years your old friends were growing irritated with your years long slow burn, Satoru especially.

“I’ve never been this invested in someone’s life go more than twenty minutes, this is just torture y/n-“

“Well then butt out Satoru.” You huffed crossing your arms.

“I can’t, seeing you both dance around each other and not make moves is awful- you’re both oblivious.”

“Well! If you’re so smart, help me Satoru.”

He sighed lifting his blindfold to rub his eyes, “Ever thought of just asking him out like a normal person?”

“Kento is so much more than a normal person.. I want it to be special.”

Satoru rolled his eyes with a grin, “Well Nanami probably hasn’t had his first kiss which means..-“ he started chuckling looking at you.

“Satoru-“

“I’m just sayin-“

“Satoru please.”

“Be his first good fuc-“ he was cut off by your phone coming in contact with his infinity causing the screen to crack, “Ouhhh.. good luck with that.”

You groaned loudly picking up your phone, great another thing to fix.

It was a Friday evening, it was heavily raining and you and Nanami were taking shelter under the awning of a shop. “I think we should try it tomorrow. It sounds great.” You grinned.

“Really? As cute as a cat cafe sounds it doesn’t sound hygienic,” he hummed.

“Ehh, but it sounds cute.”

“Anything is cute to you.” A smile tugged at his lips as he pulled out an umbrella handing it to you.

“Kento come on, I really don’t need it!” You tucked your hands in your pockets as you glared at his tired eyes.

“I’m making sure you don’t get a cold, your job is basically being a doctor anyway, horrible way to promote business.”

“Orrr, we can just share the umbrella, I’ll just stand close!”

“W-Whatever works for you.”

Huh he stuttered and must be cold.

Your arms found Nanami clinging closely to him, his hands shaking as he opened the umbrella. “Let’s get going.” He smiled a shade of pink creeping up his neck.

The walk was possibly the calmest scenic walk of your life, the rain pattering around the umbrella as you cling tightly to the blonde man’s arm.

Nanami was cracking. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, your soft touches, your voice, the way you say his name. He wanted to rip his face off from the absolute childish behavior he exhibited towards you.

Once he made it towards your very familiar walkway Nanami didn’t wanna let go, his arm tightening around your hand. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow Kento!”

No no no, he couldn’t stand watching you walk away again he watched you walk away approximately 4,380 days.

Just as you slipped from his grip, a tight hold was bound on your wrist, you turned around frantically to stare at Kento as he gazed at you, his stoic expression replaced with a worried one.

“Y/N please let me speak to you.”

You stood still gripping your coat sleeve tightly hoping this was what you were expecting, “I’m all ears.”

“As you know.. I’m not good at expressing emotions but I've been deeply enamored with you since the day I saw you.”

You couldn’t help the smile, a small giggle that came out your mouth, you saw his demeanor shrink and you immediately shook your head. “No no no! It was just your word choice! No one has ever said that to me.”

Nanami’s hand lightly gripped yours as he continued, “It’s about time someone had, and I wanna be the first.. The truth is, I want to be with you everywhere, I want to date, to marry, to grow old with you.. I want us to have unforgettable experiences-“ he was cut off by a pair of lips on his, you had made a move.

His calloused hands wrapped around your waist forgetting the umbrella and this being both of yours first kiss it was mostly teeth. When you pulled away the soft assault of raindrops dropping into your hair made you smile, “I want that too Kento..”

“Just wish you had told me earlier before I had my first kiss at twenty-six.” you playfully smacked his chest.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru #nanami x you #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami

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imgeekgirlfan · 2 months

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I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Pairings: Astarion x Original Female Character(Named Tav) [From Baldur's Gate 3]

Tag/Warnings : Canon Compliant, Post-Endgame, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tragedy, Mentions of past abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis : Astarion returned to the city of Baldur's Gate, following the final request of his beloved, who asked him to bury her next to his grave. As dawn approached, Astarion held the lifeless body of his love, reminiscing about the countless memories they shared together.

A/N : The story started when I came across this tweet: 'do you guys think your tavs/durges stayed with their love interest long term or not?'

I got the idea to tell the story of my Tav and her love interest, Astarion. What would happen to them after the end of Baldur's Gate 3? I've been thinking about it a lot and it's quite heartbreaking.

From these little headcanons, I developed this one-shot about them.

My Tav is a human bard with a noble background. So, I imagined her as the daughter of a noble Baldurian,which contrasts with Astarion's background. Their initial relationship was more of a adversaries before blossoming into love in the end.

Listening to the song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie gave me a lot of inspiration for this couple. (At first, I wanted to use the song "Take Me To Church" as the title, but it's too popular. I thought a song that many might not have heard of would be fitting for this tale.)

Read in Ao3 : here

"Jones," Astarion whispered, calling his beloved, but she didn't respond.

Her eyes closed tightly, her body growing colder with each passing moment.

Astarion pulled her closer, hoping his slight warmth might warm her. He knew it wouldn't help, and she would never wake to look into his eyes again.

Human lives are fleeting, from young maiden to old crone, from crone to spirit.

Her entire life was a blink of an eye compared to his cursed immortality.

Once, Astarion had both disdain and curiosity about this human. A race so fragile and feeble, never wielding a sword to harm anyone, raised in a noble family, spending half a comfortable lifetime in a grand mansion in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by obedient servants bowing to her every whim.

He couldn't make sense of her. For a vampire like him who had struggled to survive amidst enemies and a cruel world for centuries. He was nothing but a bloodthirsty creature, a servant under a master's foot who got treated worse than a common slave, struggling to sustain his life with the taste of filthy rat blood that almost made him vomit.

Astarion envies her for an ideal life in the gilded cage he could only dream of. envied the short-lived human existence. While he had no right to die willingly if his evil master didn't want him to die,

And he wondered why she had fled her high-life in the capital city of Baldur’s Gate to suffer with them. why someone so inept at fighting would risk her life battling monsters, from goblins and evil undead to even gods, to aid them and help everyone unrelated to her.

He thought Jones was foolish, and he didn't like fools.

Ironically, eighty years later, he found himself shedding tears at her death.

"I wish to be buried beside your grave, Astarion." That was one of her last wishes before she breathed her last in his embrace. This led Astarion to make the singular decision to step out of the Underdark and return to Baldur’s Gate, the city where he once hated heavily, to fulfill the last wish of his beloved.

The black sky began to turn deep blue. Astarion knew he should hurry to bury Jones properly before the sunrise. As he contemplated, his eyes caught withered flowers left on the ground near his own grave marker. For a brief moment, Astarion reminisced about the memories he shared with her. He had once brought Jones to his own grave, recounting his life before turning into a vampire. and then visualizing a future where he wished to live with her,as his past had died over two centuries ago and she was the only future he desired.

Astarion remembered his overwhelming fear that Jones might refuse him. She was the highborn daughter of Baldur’s Gate's noble families. Why would she choose to endure the hardships of life with an elf vampire like him?

Yet his fear vanished instantly when he saw the soft smile on her smooth face. She placed flowers on his grave and embraced him, accepting his love wholeheartedly.

That night was the night he died and was reborn in her embrace. Not as the enslaved Astarion, not as the villainous Astarion, but as Astarion the redeemed, never to be alone again because he would have her by his side forever.

But the words 'forever' don't really exist, especially for humans and vampires.

Still, Astarion couldn't help but secretly hope.

Sometimes, darker thoughts overshadow his mind, eclipsing all the goodness he has left. Astarion often secretly pondered that if he chose the path of power, performed an ancient ritual to sacrifice seven thousand souls to a devil, and transformed himself into a vampire ascendant, he would have enough strength to walk in the sunlight with her and enough power to turn her into a vampire like him. Then they could live together forever without the fear of death taking her away.

But it was Jones who restrained him then. She persuaded Astarion to see that these powers offered him nothing but the dark legacy of the Vampire Master, an inheritance of wickedness that would never end. She told him he could be better than Cazador, his former master, and he didn't have to continue killing others to sustain his existence anymore.

Astarion trusted her, though he couldn't deny feeling deeply regretful. And Jones sensed his feelings. She gently grasped his cold hands and earnestly vowed, "Astarion, I will find a way to cure you of vampirism, so you can walk under the sunlight with me again."

And she kept her promise. After successfully helping Baldur’s Gate city fend off the threats of the Mind Flayers and Nether Brain, she and him began a new adventure together. They journeyed across the entire continent of Faerûn, from Waterdeep to Athkatla, Neverwinter, Luskan, and even the mysterious realm of Feywild, all in pursuit of finding a cure for him.

Those times were special, building strong bonds and beautiful memories between them. They laughed together, danced together, fought together, and held each other close under vast skies and twinkling stars as witnesses.

Until Jones began to age and couldn’t continue the journey. That was when they both realized how little time they had left. And no matter how much time and effort they put in, there was no way to find a cure for him anymore.

Facing the harsh reality was incredibly difficult. Astarion had to hide his deep sorrow while he tried to persuade her to stop the adventure and live out her remaining days in the Underdark, the dark and sunless realm, the only place where he could be with her.

He knew what the near future held. Nothing would hurt as much as watching his beloved age continuously, waiting for her time to pass while he remained unchanged.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you as I promised. Please forgive me," she said during their time in Underdark. Her bright blue eyes, the very eyes he fell in love with, overflowed with guilt.

Astarion wanted her to know that he could never be angry or hate her.

The shovel still lay untouched on the ground, with no sign of being used anytime soon. While the vampire elf sat silently in front of his own grave marker, letting old memories flow through his mind once more,. Both his arms cradled her lifeless body as if she were still alive.

"My beloved, please continue to live on for me. I wish to see you happy for a long time," another of her last requests echoed in his mind. The gentle touch of her frail hand on his cheek still lingers in his heart to this day.

"Jones." Astarion whispers her name again. Tears, which he had not shed for a long time, now streamed down his pale face. "I can't do it," he murmured to her lifeless body. "How can I find happiness without you?"

A golden beam slowly crept in, chasing away the darkness from the vast sky. Yet Astarion's body remained unmoving, just like the eyes of the vampire, which refused to leave the withered face of his beloved for a second. He memorized every detail of her, keeping it in his memory as best as he could. She still looked as beautiful as ever in his eyes—always and forever.

"I wish the next life was real. I hope we'll meet again, live together, and build a family," Astarion whispered softly, planting a tender kiss on the edge of her lips. "Wait for me, darling. I'll follow you soon, no matter where you choose to go."

Finally, he tore his gaze away from her, looking up at the sky once more. For the first time in centuries, he had the chance to gaze at the nearing dawn with full eyes. As the sun peeked over the horizon, followed by the warm rays starting to seep through his skin, cracks began to form, turning his skin into tiny specks of dust.

Before his final consciousness faded, Astarion's thoughts remained vivid.

This was the most beautiful dawn he had ever witnessed.

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queendomkey · 4 days

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1, 2, 3, 4—

The Prophecy opens with the softest whisper, a male voice (likely Aaron Dessner) counts the song in. It's very faint ( I didn't hear it on my first listen through, actually. ) Deciding to record / keep the count in is an interesting writing tactic. Count ins can lend songs a sense of being like, a chant, but it can also lend a sense of vulnerability and rawness, an 'unedited' feel.

Here, it kind of has the same edge of like, an acoustic, live performance, and definitely calls to mind this idea of the singer songwriter, sitting with her instrument and her band mate, and processing her feelings out loud. And god, does the Prophecy deliver.

The Prophecy is a plea, it is hands and knees begging for another chance. There's this sense of defeat in Swift's narrator, as she acknowledges that a "lesser woman would've lost hope," and that "a greater woman wouldn't beg," even as she turns to pray for a different fate. There's something so painful in the speaker painting herself not as great, and not as weak, but as someone too strong to let go and not proud enough to know when to walk away.

It paints this picture so vividly of someone who has had her heart broken so much that the aches all bleed together. She says that she "thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again." Gone again. If she were a greater woman, a woman more proud and less willing to suffer at the hands of her lovers, she would have walked away. Instead, she "howls like a wolf at the moon."

I love how.... claws and teeth that description is. Swift, in the bridge, paints her narrator as so desperate she is reverting to all her base instincts, sounding "like an infant" and being so drained that she feels "like the very last drops of an ink pen." Burnt out, hurt, left without even the words that Swift's narrator once donned as armor. All she has left is begging.

The Narrator does discuss the singular loss that has brought her to her knees - describing "poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand." A lover whose self destruction has soaked into her, has infected her mind. It brings forward, again, that idea of wanting to help someone through their darkest patches, but being unable to, because they don't want to get better. ( Its sister lyric, if I had to assign one, is You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days. from So Long, London. )

But I don't think that singular loss is what pains her so. The song makes it clear, it is the culmination of years that has brought her here - and by her own hand. I got cursed like Eve got bitten. (Note: My main source of bible knowledge was a Gender Women's Studies class I took in college called Women in Biblical Literature, so my understanding of the story might be... off.) Eve made the choice to bite the apple of knowledge, manipulated by the Snake, and in doing so, is blamed for all of mankind's ills. It's a fitting metaphor for Swift (and in turn, the narrator she portrays,) a woman blamed for something a man also did.

Swift's narrator in The Prophecy has suffered bruises and pains and still has it, somewhere in her heart, to beg for another shot at love. It's painful; how much she wants to be loved, and how little she gets in return. Left feeling as useful as a paperweight - something meant to hold down an important document, but ultimately, put aside once its usefulness is gone.

#ttpdminutes #the cassandra speaks #the prophecy #taylor swift #this song i have a very strong attachment to for. personal and writing reasons skklsdgfds #so yeah its def a top 5

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 1 year

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Delicate, Chapter Two: …Ready For It?

same disclaimer as last time this is just for funsies and i’m not a writer !! also we’ve unlocked cissa and lily povs!!

CW: a bit of alcohol-related struggles

< prev chapter next chapter >

“Lily that was mental! You can’t just say things like that, especially in your situation! What if you get sued?”

“The money you waste on PR teams, I invest in lawyers!” Lily replied, dropping her keys on the table, an exasperated Alice following her inside their home.

“She brought up Snape,” Lily justified herself with a sigh, “You know how I get when they bring up Snape.”

They had just come back from Rita Skeeter’s show, and of course it had been a complete disaster: that woman loved to pick the touchiest topics during her live shows, banally exploiting private matters for views and publicity. That was one of the two reasons most celebrities refused to be her guests, the other being that she was generally a very unpleasant woman to interact with.

A right bitch, if you will.

However, Lily’s situation was…singular.

About a year before she had upset a few (many) big shots in the music and acting industries, gaining a lot of enemies and getting terrible backlash. It had been a horrible year, and thankfully her friends were there for her, but she wanted to get back on the scene. She wasn’t going to let some rich assholes dim her light.

So, of course, when Rita Skeeter had offered her an interview, she had accepted out of desperation. Like an idiot.

“She read one of Avery’s Tweets and you went crazy!” whined Alice.

“I didn’t go crazy-“

“‘How is Lily Evans still relevant? She only makes songs about Snape, he basically made her famous’ And what did you say, Lily?”

Lily bit her lip, remembering the moment with just the tiniest bit of shame. The smile Rita had on her lips while reading that stupid Tweet, the blind rage it had caused.

“Please remind me, what did you say?”

“Something mature and responsible, i’m sure-“

“You said, and I quote, ‘Just to let Avery Jr know, I was the one who made that bitch fucking famous’” Alice countered, eyebrows raised.

Lily swallowed. “…I didn’t say anything else though, did I?”

“Because they cut the cameras!”

“Listen,” rebutted Lily, sitting on the sofa in their living room and pulling out her phone.

“I may have implied that he’s gay but it’s not my fault if he finds that offensive! It’s his problem, really, and he can’t bring that up to court.”

“I think you should focus on the fact that you called Severus Snape a bitch, and that he would be a nobody if it weren’t for you,” countered Alice, taking a pot of peach yoghurt from the fridge. “I pity Longbottom, really: lately being your manager seems like a fucking nightmare.”

“Good thing he’s good at his job, then. He’s like part of the family now.” Lily looked up from her phone smiling, “You are the mum, he’s the dad, Marlene is the reckless younger sister and i’m the angry teen full of hatred for this world.”

“We’re both too young to be your parents, and he might be suspicious of his wife writing about women in her love songs, you know.” Alice smiled, taking a spoonful of yoghurt. “What are you watching?”

“Oh, it’s Narcissa’s last show,” explained Lily with a shrug, “She performed a few songs for a festival last week and I heard great things about a certain performance…apparently she’s been working with this girl for a few months, singing together. She’s been hiding a gem, that’s what her fans have been saying.”

“And how come you’re suddenly so interested in Narcissa Black? Didn’t know you were a fan of hers.” Alice got closer, leaning over Lily’s head to watch the video on her phone. She carried the faint smell of peaches and the weight of past personal issues in her voice, but Lily wasn’t going to pry. Much.

“I like her music, actually. But it’s this new girl that really piqued my interest. New blood, always exciting.” Lily paused the video and decided to push her luck, just a bit. “They remind me of us, you know: a younger singer, guided by a-“

“I’m not like Black. And you were already popular when we started living together with Marlene, so I don’t think it counts.” Alice cut her off, harshly, and started walking away. “I’m going to my room, see if I can write something.”

Lily silently accepted her defeat and swiftly changed topic. “Pizza tonight?”

But Alice had already gone up to her room, so Lily took it as permission to order whatever she wanted.

She had no clue what Alice’s issue with Narcissa Black was: in the three years she had been living with her, Alice had never given a sign of knowing Black, and Lily could’ve easily thought Alice had absolutely no connection to her.

However, the way Alice became quiet whenever Narcissa showed up on TV and how she’d turn off the radio when Black’s songs were playing indicated otherwise: in Lily’s opinion, Alice was trying really hard to hide her…hatred? No, not hatred-distaste for Narcissa, but her indifference was a too-long practiced craft for it to be genuine.

Lily thought that constantly trying to ignore someone counted as actually thinking about them, and she had therefore concluded that Alice Fortescue was mildly obsessed with Narcissa Black.

Marlene and Frank agreed that there was something going on between the two, or at least there had been, so Lily supposed she wasn’t just jumping to conclusions.

However, whenever they tried to bring it up, they were always shut off by Alice, and, as childish as it may sound, it hurt: Lily, Marlene and Alice had known each other for years, they had shared fears, hopes, secrets. They had never broken each other’s trust, and that was one of the fundamentals of their friendship.

So why was Alice so incredibly jealous of the corner Narcissa occupied in her mind? Was she ever going to let them in?

She would, eventually.

Or at least Lily hoped so.

In the mean time, she had a new singer to focus her attention on: an unknown girl named Mary Macdonald, who performed for the first time with the Narcissa Black, as the closing act of a festival that had sold out probably because of Black. The piece they were going to sing was a fan favourite, Born to Die, so the crowd’s expectations were extremely high.

This Mary Macdonald was either exceptionally confident, or completely mental.

But when she started to sing, Lily was immediately captivated. From the way she walked on the stage, to how she swayed to the music, to the bright smile on her lips when she wasn’t singing, it was impossible for Lily to take her eyes off her. For a few minutes, Mary’s voice seemed like the only real thing in the world, making everything else feel mundane, unworthy of attention.

Narcissa let Mary steal the spotlight, looking at her proudly like she was showing the world a ground breaking discovery. And she wasn’t wrong, because the girl sang for barely five minutes, and yet Lily was already starving for more.

How could Mary fear the eyes of a few thousands of people when she sang like the whole world was watching? How could she feel the pressure of being a guest on another star’s show, when she shone just as bright?

Lily didn’t need much more after that.

She opened her chat with Alice and Marlene.

lil evans: i’m going to sing with Mary Macdonald and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

lil evans: and we’re having pizza tonight.

“Making her sing during that show was completely mental, Cissa.” Amelia was leaning against the desk in front of Narcissa, arms crossed.

It had always been hard for Narcissa to find her intimidating, since they were similar in both age and personality, so she was one of the few who weren’t affected by her signature Amelia Bones Glare. In addition to that, her mischievous eyes and Narcissa’s satisfied smile made the whole conversation feel more like two friends chatting casually, rather than a lecture about Narcissa’s…surprise song. Introducing Mary to a crowd like that had been a bold choice, but neither of the singers regretted it.

Narcissa and Mary had been working together everyday for two months now, 6 hours of practice daily. Narcissa was aware this rhythm was probably unbearable for Mary, who had another job, but the girl had been set on working her ass off to start thinking about her own album as soon as possible, and even when she eventually started working on it, she still spent a quarter of her day singing.

They even spent part of their free time together: considering how much Mary seemed to dread staying home and how discreet she was about her private life, Narcissa had the suspicion her family situation wasn’t exactly the best, so she had been inviting her over to her place as often as possible with the weirdest excuses to give her a distraction.

It’s not like Narcissa could have helped it, she knew what a shit family could do to a person, and she genuinely appreciated Mary’s company, too.

So much, in fact, that she had taken her to perform live for the first time as soon as she had the chance.

“You’re right, Mel, it was crazy. It worked, though,” replied Narcissa nonchalantly, bringing a cigarette to her lips. Thank God Amelia was also a smoker and allowed the occasional cig-breaks indoors, as long as Narcissa had to share. “It’s all the media has been talking about for the past two weeks. Besides, we are going to drop her album in, like, less than a month, some extra publicity can’t hurt.”

“It was her first time singing to an audience, and you made her jump on a stage in front of live cameras,” Amelia cocked her head to the side, eyes wide in amazement. “She could’ve fucked it up, and I wouldn’t have blamed her.”

“But she didn’t,” countered Narcissa, resting her head against the armchair. “Because we talked about it beforehand. Listen, that girl was born to perform, her place isn’t inside a small recording room. I wanted the people to see her for the first time at her best.”

Amelia shook her head with something vaguely resembling fondness. “You really do care about her, don’t you? Pass it.” Narcissa inhaled and handed her the cigarette. She exhaled and watched as the smoke floated in the air, light under the sun rays like a bride’s veil.

“Why did you even agree to introduce her to me? I didn’t know you had such a kind heart.” Amelia commented, eyes squinted towards the window. “Not that I’m ungrateful. I have a lot of hope in Mary. However, you didn’t strike me as the type of woman who wanted to be…a mentor, I guess.”

Narcissa was still watching the smoke leave the cigarette, head tilted back.

She still didn’t know why she’d let Mary into her home that night, months before.

She knew, however, that she hadn’t hoped to make it past 27, yet there she was, not too far from her 28th birthday.

Leaving her parents’ house and throwing herself onto new projects hadn’t magically changed Narcissa’s life for the better, and she’d also found herself completely alone. There was also the fact that she ended up high or drunk way too often to not consider it a problem, although in the past she hadn’t worried about it too much: many great stars died like that, and Narcissa wasn’t too bothered by the thought of joining them.

But then Mary showed up, with her determination and stoic audacity, so set on really owning her life, and made Narcissa realise how scary her indifference towards death was.

In truth, that night Amelia had answered her email almost immediately.

“The album is promising, but there’s a lot of work to do, Narcissa.”

“I know, but I swear, she has it. The spark, I-I felt it. I could help-“

“You have to be able to help, Narcissa. You know what I mean, right?”

She didn’t drink for five days, after that call. And on the fifth day, Amelia gave her a chance, and Mary officially became part of her life. Since then, there had been highs and lows: sometimes she went to Edgar (who was much more empathetic than Amelia, though Narcissa would never say that to her face), and he’d go to her house to throw away her remaining alcohol. Other times, when Mary was willing to drink with her, she let herself take a glass or two: Narcissa’s rule of thumb was drinking one glass less than Mary, and considering that the girl was still wary of drinking more than a few glasses or a couple of shots, Narcissa hadn’t gotten tipsy in two whole months.

“Narcissa? Are you there?” Amelia waved her hand in front of her eyes. Narcissa noted that the cigarette had disappeared somewhere.

“Yes, Mel. Was just thinking.”

“About?” Amelia asked, eyebrow raised, but Narcissa didn’t say anything. She didn’t like talking about her struggles, but Amelia Bones always seemed to read her mind, which was equally endearing and annoying. So, at the silence that followed, she said, “You’re doing better, by the way. Have you told-“

“I’m not going to tell her-“

“NAR-CIS-SAAAA” Mary barged into the room, eyes bulging and breathing heavily. Her arms were open wide, phone in hand.

“Ma-ryyyy?” Narcissa replied in confusion while raising her arms, mimicking the girl. Mary rushed to her and shoved the phone in her face with an excited smile.

“Som-someone just contacted me and you won’t believe-oh, Amelia, you need to see this, too!”

“Stay still, child, you’re moving too much.” complained Narcissa, squinting at the bright screen and wrapping a hand around Mary’s wrist to steady it. Amelia quickly moved closer, read the first few words, and immediately frowned. “That’s a name I haven’t seen in a while.”

Dear Miss Mary Macdonald,

This is Lily Evans, if the email address wasn’t a dead giveaway. I just saw a video of your performance with Narcissa Black, and I must say, you’ve instantly enchanted me. I could spend many words praising your incredible singing, but perhaps it would be more efficient to get straight to the point.

You may already know this, but because of certain circumstances last year, I completely disappeared from the public eye. I will soon make a comeback though, and I was wondering if you wanted to write a song with me to put in the album. Or we could write a single, however you prefer: to be completely honest, this is just an excuse to sing with you.

I’ll leave my phone number, in case you wish to reach out to me <3

Have a delightful day,

Miss Lily Evans

“What do I do, what do I do?” Mary asked leaving her phone to Narcissa and Amelia, their eyes still glued to the screen.

“Well, Evans has a big fan base, a collaboration with her would be great.” Amelia said, still analysing the email like it was a cryptic message from an alien.

“Do you also sense a flirty undertone or am I seeing things?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s just very informal and frien-no okay, now that you’ve mentioned it, I can kinda see it.” Narcissa replied just as quietly.

“Shoot your shot Mary!” she said, smiling fondly at the girl, who was covering her face with her hands.

“But first, consider that Evans has been in the middle of some drama lately. Despite her loyal fans, her reputation has gone to shit during the past year. You know that, right?” Amelia asked, standing up next to Narcissa’s chair.

“…Actually, I don’t.” Mary replied.

“How do you-“ Amelia whispered, appalled. “Well, I’ll send you some links so you can get what I mean. I had the chance to speak to her a couple of times, she’s a good person. A bit fierce and isn’t afraid of speaking her mind, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Amelia got closer and put a hand on Mary’s arm.

“I bet she’ll be a pleasure to work with. If you want I can contact her manager.”

Mary chewed on her lip, deep in thought.

“Fuck it, I’m doing it.” she snapped, getting her phone back from Narcissa, who let out a small ‘ooooh’ as encouragement.

“But I’ll text her myself. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“I agree. You should also meet her in person, first,” intervened Narcissa, knowingly. “You don’t want to work with someone you don’t get along with. Two artists need chemistry.”

“Mhm…” Mary agreed, distractedly. “I’ll go, then. I just wanted to tell you first, I was absolutely freaking out-“

“Of course you were, it’s Lily Evans we’re talking about,” said Amelia understandingly, “Everyone knows at least one of her songs.”

“…Yeah,” commented Mary, with an unsure smile. “Yes, of course I do. Well, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The two women watched Mary leave the room, practically bouncing instead of walking.

“So, Mary and Lily…” started Amelia once the room had gone back to quiet, still eyeing the door.

“Apparently.” Narcissa already knew where this was going.

“You know she’s Fortescue’s girl, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“…Interesting.”

“I’m not even looking at you but I can feel your stupid grin. Stop it.”

The phone was ringing when Lily got out of the shower: it was rather late, and she wasn’t really expecting any calls. She didn’t recognise the number on the screen, but it wasn’t the usual Unknown Number that meant Snape was trying to get in contact with her, so she accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, is this Miss Lily Evans?” greeted a voice on the other side, and Lily recognised with a smile the old-fashioned welcome.

“Well yes, could this be my dear Miss Mary Macdonald?” she replied, just as charmingly. So Mary wanted to work with her, despite everything…maybe Marlene was right, things were getting more promising.

“My my, it may just be her,” then she laughed softly, and it was such a pleasant sound Lily wanted to put it in a song, somehow. “Sorry, I broke character. Anyway, am I disturbing you?”

“Not everyone is born an actor, darling, and no, not at all-“ Lily scrunched her curls with a wet towel.

“Good, because I wanted to tell you I would love to write a song with you,“ Lily saw her smile widen as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“-But I’m afraid we’ll have to wait at least three weeks.” Mary concluded, sounding so sorry Lily couldn’t manage to feel too disappointed.

“Oh, it’s fine, I can be patient. How come we have to postpone our meeting? If I can ask, of course.”

“Well, you see, I’m working on-“

“LILY!” Marlene barged into her room screaming, her brown eyes open wide and blonde hair even messier than usual.

One thing about Marlene is that she never banally entered rooms, she always barged in, slamming doors open and announcing the motifs of her intrusion. It was a rather dramatic habit, but it always made Alice smile when Marlene appeared on top of the stairs, shouted “HUNGRY!”, and set the dinner-making process in action. Lily was just grateful someone in the house never forgot about meals.

“Marlene-“

“PETER IS BACK IN TOWN!” she continued, grabbing Lily’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mary, can you hang in there for a minute? I’ll be back shortly.” Lily explained, widening her eyes at Marlene, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands, surprised but not really apologetic.

Mary laughed, “Sure, no problem.”

“I’m sorry…” Marlene smiled as Lily muted herself, although she seemed more enthusiastic than sorry.

Marlene, Peter and James had known each other since they were kids, and being all separated for work matters (Marlene and Peter had always worked solo, while James had formed a duo with Sirius Black when they were sixteen), they were all overexcited when they had an excuse to see each other. The four of them together reminded Lily of those puppies that are perpetually either jumping, running or barking.

“It’s okay. So, Peter is back?” Lily smiled.

When Peter was younger, he used to be really quiet and shy, always getting dragged into trouble by James and Marlene first, and then Sirius, too.

Or at least, that’s what Marlene had told her. Lily found it hard to believe, considering how Peter acted now: he was comfortable on the stage, always ready to joke, in front of thousands of people or with his closest friends alike; he wasn’t necessarily the loudest at a party (that honour went to Sirius and James), but he was still a pleasure to have a conversation (and especially talk shit) with.

“Not yet, actually. He’ll be back this Saturday,” Marlene answered, biting back a smile.

“I bet Effie is hosting a welcome-home party as soon as he gets in town,” Lily continued, remembering how Mrs Potter always found opportunities to gather all her “kids” (as she had nominated James and all his friends) under her roof.

“Oh, it’ll be a big one this time,” Marlene confirmed. “She has already asked me to invite every living being I know. Wait, are you on the phone with Mary Macdonald?”

“Shit, I’m making her wait. Can we talk about this later?” Lily asked, bringing the phone to her chest. Nice first impression, idiot.

“Wait, wait. Invite her, too.” Marlene suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I can’t ask her to come to a party all alone with a bunch of people she doesn’t even know-“

“Then ask her to bring Narcissa, too,” Marlene wiggled her eyebrows more aggressively.

It took Lily an instant. She gaped.

“You sick, sick bastard. Alice will be there. Shit will go down, you know?”

“Why? Alice and Narcissa don’t even know each other,” Marlene batted her eyelashes with an innocent shrug. “Besides, Sirius hasn’t spoken to his cousin in forever, they need to catch up.”

Lily licked her lips thoughtfully and brought her attention back to the phone. A formal party wasn’t the best setting to talk about work, but it was perfect for getting to know someone. And Lily really wanted to get to know Mary. She unmuted herself and brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey, before we continue, are you free this Saturday?”

that was all, hope you liked it and let me know if you want to be tagged when i post updates bc it won’t be that often lmao

#lily in her rep era #there’s another chapter before the party chapter(s) but i’m writing them rn and i’m having a lot of fun ngl #anyways #marauders #marauders era #marylily #mary macdonald #lily evans #narcissa black #alice fortescue #alicissa #nobleflower #marlene mckinnon #i need to find a title asap #so i can make a tag #fic: delicate

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rinas4ki · 2 days

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My seasonal music highlights: spring 2024 🦋

Welcome back to my silly little songs of the season reviews, you can check out this winter’s installment here ⭐️ one fave song per artist, no particular order, there will be a mini review section and trust I loved these songs as well, just couldn’t yap as much about them, you know the drill. GIF source: Supernova by aespa.

*: Full album review guaranteed to be presented in my year-end favorite project list

☾ Adulter8 - Sega Bodega*

Father… you have raised the bar yet again. Sega Bodega’s new album Dennis was by far my most anticipated project of the year, which unquestionably delivered the excellence I was expecting and more. I was so captivated by Adulter8’s intricacies that I couldn’t help but play it at least 92 times within first week of the album’s release. What starts off with an 8-bit-like sequence escalates into one majestic pre-chorus and afterwards the best beat drop I’ve ever heard in my life. The lyrics are a result of a thesaurus browse, simply the distorted “dilute, adulterate, diminish, reduce me to nothing, seduce”, effortlessly accompanying the elaborate Arabic-influenced instrumentals. Those beat drops though… especially the first one… that build-up… calling that “top-notch” would be insulting. I felt like my soul left my body for a split second when I was first listening to it at 12AM. I cannot even attempt to comment on the greatness of that singular drop. The song is overall just incredible and addictive, and will most likely end up as my favorite song of the entire year. I don’t even feel the need to comment on more for now because come on, this is Sega Bodega, this is off of Dennis, this is Adulter8. If you get it, you get it.

☾ Mine - aespa

The looooooong anticipated release day of Armageddon the album was a national holiday for Synkcity. We’re seeing such bright times after all these hate trains, mismanagement from SM, the sabotage from rival companies coming to light and what-the-hell-not, honestly. After nearly three whole years and three EPs, aespa finally present their full-length debut. Needless to say, singles Supernova and Armageddon are top-notch, continuing aespa’s all-smash title track streak. However, there was an album delight that blew my damn mind, and it was Mine. Hearing the first chorus in the highlight medley was enough to keep in mind that the track would be one of the best b-sides of the album, but I regretfully have to admit I didn’t think it would be one of aespa’s biggest guns as a whole. My jaw fell harder with every. second. of this. song. Karina and Ningning’s breathy, sassy, forceful, majestic raps kickstart the track along with tambourines that feel like digital diamonds jingling up in front of you. Winter comes through with the earth-shattering second half of the prechorus, and Giselle kills it by spitting one of her most plate-shifting rap verses. A major reason why Mine is my personal favorite off of the album is because how much everyone shines in their own right. Winter and Ningning are back at being one of 4th gen’s iconic vocal duos (as well as their pleasing rap lines), Giselle retrieves her well-deserved main rapper position (SM you can still catch it), and Karina effortlessly wraps both the vocal and rap roles around her fingers as she always does. That bridge? That bridge is disgusting even for four of the bridge architects of K-pop. The girls absolutely outdid themselves on this. The instrumental track may be less maximalist than the title tracks’ or, say, Set The Tone’s, but oh boy are they vehement and so hypnotic. The drums, the synths, especially the ones in the last chorus… it all forms together to make the song nastier and nastier as it progresses. Everyone involved in this walked into the studio with a mission to change the trajectory of music. I’m afraid I’m in this MY lifestyle for long. aespa truly are unsteppable.

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☾ Fácil - Empress Of*

For Your Consideration promoted Empress Of into my new favorite indie popstar, and Fácil is my chosen earworm off of it. Every song on the album is so sultry and charismatic, and Fácil has this distinguishing sharpness in its sound, courtesy of umru, to top it off. Empress Of’s ear for memorable melodies and catchy lyrics especially come in clutch here, with casual melodic beatboxing in the background and the looping “tócame aquí, tócame ya, ya, ya, ya”. The self-made hisses and snares go hand in hand with umru’s signature punchy splices. Multiple layers of vocals linger in the entire track, from panting and breathing to sensually delivered lines in the higher range. The bit I’m gonna point out next is more self-indulgent (and I’ve pointed it out on my page previously lol) but nevertheless, I felt like the casual bravado and the combined danceability and grit of the track was akin to candy bOmb by OnlyOneOf, and the more good music with similar vibes, the merrier. Can’t get enough of either.

☾ Hypertonic - TAN (+ my Soda origin story 😙)

TAN have proven themselves to be masters of old gen K-pop revivalism since they came out the gate with their 2022 debut Du Du Du. The group first came to my attention with Walking On The Moon and later in 2023 with the hit Fix You, which went multi-platinum on my personal devices. For some strange reason, I still didn’t fully open my eyes and get into them despite their almost unmatched title tracks. That is until they released the first-day diamond-certified Hypertonic. Hypertonic, as a song, is pretty much everything I could ask for from a new gen pop boyband: in-your-face electronic production, intriguing composition, high-powered vocals and raps, and a full song structure, despite the track duration falling slightly below 3 minutes. The gritty synth heavy instrumentals are robotic and over the top in the best way possible, giving you the feeling that they’re straight out of 2000-10s Japanese EDM archives. The verses, chorus, rap and bridge hit all the right spots, going with the instrumentals instead of being overshadowed by them or vice versa. The high notes in the bridge and outro couldn’t have topped off the track’s overflowing energy any better. Now, I wanna bring up how was particularly taken over by the first half of the second verse. I mean it when I say “taken over” because I was so obsessed with that particular member’s flawless line delivery that I was scrambling to learn their names. The particular member turned out to be their main vocalist Jooan, and it all made sense because he was behind the perfect vibratos (earned by his musical theater education), a good amount of high notes and runs (along with brilliant lead vocalist Hyunyeop) and bits that blew me away in previous songs I’ve heard from the group. Honestly, I was starstruck by all of TAN at first Kprofiles browsing sesh. I mean, what’s there not to love about a band of superb singers (+ superb main rapper Jiseong who’s obviously included in the “singers”), dancers, songwriters, producers (the self-production makes the music even more impressive), choreographers and overall artists who are intensely passionate and excellent at everything they do? This type of multi-skill and well-roundedness is exactly what I seek and keep up with in both K-pop and outside of it. Jooan though… you will pay for being the cause of some of my most humiliating K-pop fangirl posts. Love me a mind-blowing vocalist (duh), dancer, rapper, songwriter, producer, sound engineer, overall a true all-rounder with an irresistible face card. Please give these dudes’ music a stream or two because they really have no business not getting their flowers from K-pop fans and tasteful people.

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☾ Malena - Domiziana

Somebody took “after your biggest flop comes your biggest slay” a bit too literally, and I am more than satisfied with that. After the colossal washout that was Domiziana’s previous single Katholisch Erzogen, which was merely another one of the examples of cheap blasphemy for shock factor accompanied by a fake-creepy beat straight out of the Tiktok “musician” archives, Malena turned everything around. Not only was it a massive bounce back from whatever she had going on with that disaster, but also an upgrade in her whole career in every single way. The production is arguably her most minimal but most defined and well-executed to date, with the amapiano influences and siren-like background vocals doing wonders. The vocals and lyrics are her best by a landslide as well. The whispery, high head voice stays, but this time with more emotion and variety in delivery. We listen to a story about cheating, betrayal and a lack of commitment, enriched with references to the cult classic movie Malena, the namesake of the track. The music video is set in Domiziana’s mother’s hometown, Catania, with different sets, cameras and editing. Malena ends up being an incredible audiovisual experience and the current highlight of Domiziana’s work. Maybe it’s just her highs and lows, maybe it’s her taking her career more seriously than ever, hopefully the latter. May she beat the one-hit wonder allegations (mind you, Ohne Benzin doesn’t hold a candle to this masterpiece) and continue to serve like this.

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☾ Lipgloss - Terror Jr

A portion of pop music fans constantly ask for the good old 00-10s to be brought back, meanwhile some others wish to move on and focus on more future-oriented, complex sounds instead. Lipgloss masterfully combines both, delivering nostalgia yet nonetheless sounding shiny and brand new. The simple repeated chorus, casual lyrics and the vibe of the production overall feel 2016, and fans have likened the song to Terror Jr’s Bop City era’s sound. Still, the natural execution of this song makes it solid and refreshing on its own rather than a pathetic attempt at reviving what pop used to do. It took me a bit too long to find out that the experimental pop duo’s producer David Singer-Vine was ½ of The Cataracs, a producer duo behind numerous 2010s pop hits such as Like a G6 by Far East Movement and In The Dark by DEV (along with the entire The Night The Sun Came Out album). As a solo artist he produced songs such as Gold by Kiiara and Stuck With Me by Tinashe. This made the Terror Jr experience make a lot more sense: listening to their music feels like taking a trip to the present in a fancy time machine, with hosts who have a nice grasp on the past and the future. Special shoutout to that music box all over the instrumentals by the way, that scratched my brain just right.

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☾ Perfect - Cosha

I didn’t call the MurMurs EP the “free therapy album” when it first dropped for no reason, you know. Alternative R&B hidden treasure Cosha returns to heal us all after her 2021 re-debut album Mt. Pleasant, with more of her sublime melodies and vocals. In the EP, Cosha keeps switching from soulful, serene and down-tempo (Fire Me Up, MurMurs Interlude) to drum-heavy, danceable and inviting (Relish, Glow). Meanwhile, Perfect pinpoints that sweet middle ground. Firstly, the beat is absolutely hooking. The drums, bass and recurring plucks pull me in the most, and Cosha’s higher-range head voice is pure magic, especially in the chorus. The second verse has this slight beat switch that brings forward the bass that I’m obsessed with, and then we’re back to that divine chorus with even more adlibs, high notes and harmonies. It’s laced. I feel like the whole project, but especially this specific song, would suit many people’s tastes, so this is especially a deep cut recommendation of mine to everybody.

Mini reviews

❥ Nasty - Tinashe: I feel so bad that this is going into the mini reviews section because the song has been on rotation since it dropped, I don’t believe I need to elaborate on its earworm factor. Obviously, Tinashe has an ear for hits, and the production is relatively simple yet so effective. So glad that it’s going viral and Tinashe is getting the hype she deserves.

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❥ You know what (Hey listen) - 4s4ki: I’m afraid as long as 4s4ki keeps making music, she will keep appearing on all my favorites lists. She just can’t miss no matter what genre or sound she tries out. This one’s for the people that get their head in their hands and slide down a wall at 1AM. Give us vocals, give us guitar breakdowns, give us a REAL love song, give us everything, queen.

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❥ Hard dreams - Gesaffelstein feat. Yan Wagner: Real techno’s been so back since Gamma dropped. The visuals for this album still hold their title of being the best of the year, by the way.

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❥ Botoxxx - Isabella Lovestory: She SLID on that bridge. Love to see the budget in the MV. We need the sophomore album.

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❥ Caught Up - FLO: The guitars? The vocals? That key switch in the bridge? FLO’s discography is still flawless. We need the debut album.

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Thank you for reading, feel free to give feedback on the song recommendations or review formatting ☻

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tearlessrain · 7 days

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Tagged by @dingoat (thanks!!)

3 ships

okay so this is going to be 100% ocs but right now

My Sith Warrior Kalarros and @darth-bagel's smuggler/crimelord Sylvas. look it's basically just canon at this point, I love these two, I love their relationship. it could be argued that it's not really romantic, they're both married to other people and have a few other relationships (all consensually to be clear, they're not having an affair they're both very poly). Sylvas's husband was actually the one who originally set them up for some bdsm shenanigans (because honestly the only reason Kalarros isn't a pro dom is it's never occurred to him to charge for it, and said husband is also a Sith who'd considered Kalarros a friend for years prior to that and trusted him to look after Sylvas and treat them well) and they clicked spectacularly and developed a strong bond over the years. At this point they're so entwined with each other's stories that I've pretty much abandoned my original canon for Kalarros because it's just vastly improved with Sylvas in it lol. they've stuck by each other through some rough times on both sides and consider each other much more than casual play partners by now.

Khatte and another of Bagel's ocs, their bounty hunter Liz. honestly these two are just a lot of fun and kind of happened by accident, we had minimal involvement in this they just decided to develop a mutual crush and now Khatte has firmly entered his femdom era. it honestly wouldn't have worked pre Alliance era, Liz has zero tolerance for his bullshit and Khatte is significantly better at keeping his bullshit in check with some legitimate therapy under his belt. It's fairly casual but probably one of the healthiest relationships he's ever had just because he knows she won't settle for less and he likes her enough to meet those standards. what can I say, Khatte's type is people who could kill him and Liz's type (at least when it comes to men) is "extremely competent but also kind of pathetic" so of course they saw each other and instantly had to fuck.

taking an abrupt turn from SWTOR into BG3, my Durge (or half of my Durge) Ryldimar and @elaphaemourra's Tav Dragonfly. listen I did not particularly even like Durge as a concept until these two happened. [SPOILERS REDACTED I FUCKED UP SOME PEOPLE I TAGGED HAVEN'T PLAYED DURGE YET]

First Ship

I'm honestly not sure? technically this might also be ocs, because I was writing original fiction before I ever got into fandom spaces and even then I've never really actively shipped canon characters from other media that much (I passively ship a lot of things but I don't get that invested yknow?). so it's probably Talon and Iadra, my gryphons from a fantasy thing I started writing in high school and have been continuously developing for the last fifteen years or so. Talon is actually half gryphon, in this world gryphons are shapeshifters and are capable of both assuming a humanoid form and interbreeding with that planet's closest human analog (and also humans, theoretically, though I'm unclear on whether any of them have gotten to earth and tested that, the worldbuilding kind of got away from me and it's a beautiful mess now). gryphons bond for life the way a lot of predatory birds do and these two are completely devoted to each other, and also they have the fun aesthetic element of Talon being about 1/3 Iadra's size when she's in gryphonic form (due to an Incident™, he lost one of his wings years ago and it caused him to be stuck between forms, so he mainly looks like a slightly feathery Guy with a singular wing. about what you'd expect of an oc I made in high school but I love him okay).

Last Song

uuuh the Ken Theriot cover of The Witch of the Westmereland I think.

Currently Reading

honestly I have not been doing a lot of reading lately (been meaning to get back to it but yknow) but I'm in the middle of The Black Gryphon by Mercedes Lackey

Last Film

OG Star Wars, couple days ago my internet went out and that was one of three movies I happen to have on my hard drive (take a wild guess what the other two are)

Currently Craving

Salmon chirashi. I literally always want any iteration of raw salmon combined with sushi rice. fortunately I'm refilling my meds in a few days (to be clear the meds are unrelated to my love of salmon, there just happens to be a really good sushi place within a block of my pharmacy so I get chirashi whenever I need to pick something up)

tagging (only if you want to!): @elvhenyoung, @elaphaemourra, @mercurypilgrim, @darkshadeless, @vampiraptor, @reucrion, @artpigeons, @chaoticspacefam

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spectralstitions · 3 months

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THERE'S A MAP FINALLY LOL (EXPLODES)

Hey, it's Cas! In my last post about mapmaking, I wrote that the next time I posted about it, I hoped it'd be because my map was finished. Well, guess what? I FINISHED IT! It only took me, like... uh... half a year to get around to it. Well, here it is! Two versions: one plain, one labeled.

It's such a relief to have this finished. Finally, after a thousand years of just thinking about it, I have something resembling a visual resource! Yay! That said, it's not perfect, and definitely more of an approximation than anything. There are touch-ups to be made, many touch-ups, but I might just save that for an end-of-year progress check. For now, it's good enough!

The lack of labels has nothing to do with minimalism and everything to do with the fact that I really hate naming things. V-shaped icons point to major settlements. Dot icons mark settlements that are smaller, but subject to show up often for whatever reason. Those ones in particular I'm sure will get edited or shifted around over time.

Now, to meticulously explore each and every region!

I'll work from top to bottom!

Surprise, I'm starting with the name! I find myself drawn to names that sound simple but have lots of interesting connotations. In this case, I'd been searching for a name that captured the feeling of a far off, enigmatic place, something vast and always just beyond reach. Then, while I was searching, and in a manner not unlike that one Overwatch meme, the word "Hinterlands" played in the Lord Huron song I was listening to and I had my HOLY SHIT moment. There's no way a name this whimsical hasn't already been snagged by some cartoon or something, but I can live with that.

As an aside, if I were to pick just one piece of media that encapsulated what I'm going for with this project, it'd be the album Strange Trails by Lord Huron. Of all my many inspirations, it's the one that's had the most profound impact. So the name also works as a homage!

Starting off spooky with our first region, the Old Waythrough. It's a place most people don't like to talk or even think about, but it's always there, looming just under the surface. It has remarkably little presence even in local folklore, and what little there is has been cut into pieces and scattered about through generations of oral storytelling. That said, there are a couple surviving records of Parthans attempting flyovers, eager to prove their courage. None of them get very far, but interestingly, even across the centuries, their recounts have all been similar, describing endless, desolate lands that are empty save for random objects and footprints in the snow.

One famous story, and the tale behind the region's common name, recounts the miraculous journey of the first partha who made contact with the mainland using the Waythrough as a guide. If true, this partha is the only known creature to have crossed the Waythrough in its entirety—and in doing so, gave the fasa who saw them quite a scare!

Our next region is Parthesa, or the parthan homelands! Yeah, get ready for some confusing naming conventions. I'll try to break it down:

The species itself, singular and plural, is known as "partha". Its descriptive form is "parthan".

Partha born on Parthesa, as well as any outsider accepted into their flocks, are known as "Parthans" with a capital P.

All partha born on Parthesa are also called skyborn, while their mainland cousins are called wildborn.

It's a bit much, but I promise, so are they. Parthesa itself is frequently described as a paradise, mostly for the fact that there seems to be a strange lack of spirit activity on the islands themselves. Is that the full story, though? Who knows — Parthans aren't exactly scrambling to brag about how UNbetter-than-everyone-else they and their homeland are. On that note, did Parthans name themselves after their homeland, or did they name their homelands after themselves? Mysteries upon mysteries...

Famously, the islands are beautiful — flower fields, waterfalls, seaside cliffs, mountains and valleys to dip and dive through, and that wonderful ocean breeze! Plus, as long as you've got parthan feather insulation and love storms, the weather's great! Infamously, getting to Parthesa is incredibly dangerous without a Parthan guide, something that's hard to come by. Without one, travelers don't have a great track record of being seen again.

On the opposite side of the Waythrough, we've got the fasan homelands! This dashing, idyllic little landscape is defined by mountains, rivers, lakes, colorful flower fields, and forests of towering boreal trees. Also, ignore that green mountain I forgot to recolor.

Fasa like to incorporate waterways into their architecture in interesting ways, building settlements that trace the length of rivers. Despite their homeland's cutesy appearance, their deep forests harbor all sorts of dangers. Uniquely, this danger doesn't just concern spirits, but entire swathes of dangerous, predatory animals. Still, as long as you take the proper safety precautions, it's a lovely place to live. Their main city can be found by following the paths of the rivers into the mountains. Their harbor town is much newer but has quickly become prosperous!

Okay, you see this gigantic piece of land with almost zero markers in it? This one's my sandbox. Why does nobody seem to want to live here? Well, they tried. They really tried, judging by all the bizarre artifacts poking out of the ground everywhere. The place is a mass graveyard, with evidence of ancient raswa, fasa, and who knows what else engaged in constant territory spats going back centuries. However, these battles seemed to have stopped very suddenly. It's assumed that the appearance of spirits was the last straw that pushed people back into their homelands, finally convincing them the place was just not worth it, something that countless deaths couldn't accomplish. But it's been thousands of years, and people are making tentative attempts to settle again, this time in unity—and hey, so far so good! The few settlements that exist here are characterized by the diversity of their people.

If you follow the trails, you're sure to come across fellow travelers, traders, and the like, but the vast majority of the land is void of people. You could walk for weeks or longer and not come across a single soul! There's a lot to discover, but it's a bit lonely...

Down south, you'll find the Underbelly! The Underbelly is the common name given to this region of wetland and swamp. It's one of the deadliest—and in many people's opinions, the grossest—places in the Hinterlands. Miraculously, there are a hardy people who've managed to make a living in the deep swamp, their treehouse cities literal lights in the darkness. They trade with and have close relations to raswa!

Nearly done! Now we've come to the raswan homelands. Not to be an edgelord, but this region is one defined by utter darkness. Well, okay, it's supposed to be a little edgy, but that part of it comes second. On the left half sleeps an incredibly dense roofed forest, such that light rarely grazes the forest floor. Mushrooms spawn like wildfire, and only those with the grace of raswa are going to have much luck navigating it. On the other side of the mountains lies the raswan desert, a place where sandblood raswans lead nomadic lifestyles. It's also a place many go to get in touch with their spirituality. Sandblood raswa wander the depths of the desert, traveling by night, when sand in the air lights up like stars. With their unique skin colors and plain dark clothes, raswa disguise themselves as part of the night sky to avoid deadly desert spirits. The spirits are a pain in the forests, too—raswa have devised safe pathways for travelers, but all they can really do is hand you a charm and beg you not to stray. Due to the regions' conditions, the settlements here remain mostly raswa, save for their newer harbor town.

We're onto the last area! This island is in a weird spot, and it's kind of just weird in general, so I saved it for last. It's even weird in the formatting of this blog post! What is wrong with you, fae homelands? This island was created very recently by one of the gods, although they are all credited for it. "Homelands" is a strange word for fae to use, though, because most fae do not come from this land at all. In fact, there are barely any trees here! In any case, This island is what connects all people, encouraging unity in times of despair. From edge to edge, the place is a gigantic market space, full to bursting with different kinds of people, vivid colors, and overwhelming sounds and smells.

And that's that! I'll be real, I had way more fun just writing all that than I did even making the map, so I hope that even 1 person skimmed it and got something out of it. But if not, this'll be a good resource for me, too, so, I guess it's win-win.

I'm not really sure what's next for me! I kinda want to work on more visual development for the fauna, spirits, and gods, but the other, realer, and more boring side of me thinks I should probably figure out the extremely basic information like fasan & raswan government styles first. Cause, you know, the fundamental structure of their society is kind of important...

I've made progress in other areas as well, so I may make a separate post for that! But for now I need a short break. Hope you enjoyed. Yay!

#worldbuilding #fantasy #fantasy map #fantasy worldbuilding #my ocs #dear drifter #lore

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moronic-validity · 7 months

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Stockholm Syndrome

Part 2 of Stockholm Syndrome!

18+ for so many reasons

warnings: Simon gets backhanded and also this includes the first instance of noncon/dubcon. It's not graphic, but still, it's there.

Simon began pacing.

It was his favorite way to blow off steam, but he wasn’t sure it would help at this point, but it couldn’t hurt either.

Eventually, he crawled into bed and found himself unable to sleep without Winter’s soft snores.

He stared at the ceiling.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up to knocking on the door of his cell.

“Good morning, my precious snowflake, how did you sleep?” Winter’s sing-song voice greeted him.

“You put me in a cell.”

“I did!” He cheerfully confirmed as he opened the cell and joined Simon inside.

He made himself comfortable on the foot of the bed.

“I know things got a bit out of hand last night, and we both said things we didn’t mean. I figure we can discuss things now and work it out from there,” he sighed and placed a hand on Simon’s covered leg.

The cold cut through any warmth the blanket had to offer.

“I’m not sure there is much to discuss Winter, you threw me in a cell because-”

“Because you were making rash decisions while intoxicated, I figured it would be better to keep you safe,” Winter’s hand grew colder as he spoke.

Simon moved Winter’s hand off of his leg.

Winter took a breath.

“I want you to say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t have to be, but you will do what I say,” Winter rose from the foot of the bed, towering over the older version of himself, “Apologize to me. Now.”

Simon sat up in the bed, staring at Winter incredulously.

“No.”

“Then you will learn,” Winter sighed before backhanding his Simon.

The impact caught Simon off guard, his head jerked to the side and he instinctively put his hand on his throbbing cheek.

He could taste blood.

He looked back to Winter.

“You…You hit me…” The statement was laced with hurt and confusion.

“I did,” Winter confirmed nonchalantly, “Now, apologize.”

Simon just stared at him, trying to blink the tears out of his eyes.

Winter raised his hand again and Simon spoke.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

“For what?” Winter lowered his hand slightly.

“For..not listening to you…” Simon wasn’t sure why he was sorry, but he was sure if he could figure out at least one of the reasons, he’d avoid further punishment.

“And?”

“And…and for…coming back so late last night,” he stumbled through the rest of the apology, breathing a sigh of relief when Winter lowered his hand back to his hip.

“See, wasn’t that so easy?” Winter reached out and cupped Simon’s face with one hand, “Now let me see where I struck you.”

Simon didn’t have a choice in the matter as Winter examined the area.

“My, do you swell up quick…” he mused, tracing the still bruising skin with a singular finger.

He forced Simon to look at him.

“What have you learned?”

“To listen,” Simon couldn’t look Winter in the eye. It didn’t make sense that this was the same man he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Good boy, we were always quick learners, weren’t we?” He pulled his hand from Simon’s face, and began undoing his belt, “I want you to suck my cock.”

Simon rubbed his still throbbing jaw and looked up at Winter, hoping for some reconsideration.

“Now.”

His shoulders dropped.

He knew what would happen if he said no.

It…It’s easier this way. He thought, At least this way I can pretend this is normal.

Simon did the rest of the work, undoing Winter’s pants and pulling his underwear down.

The motions were familiar, almost comforting.

It allowed him to act like it was just another one of those weird fantasies Winter liked to play out.

Just another fantasy.

Simon felt his brain begin to wander as he wrapped his lips around Winter’s cock.

He thought about how his first week in the castle, they were terrified to touch each other, save for when they would reach for the same items and their hands would touch for only a moment. When a kiss on the forehead seemed like a line neither wanted to cross.

He swirled his tongue along his length before taking him back into his mouth.

The days when Simon was terrified to be seen on Winter’s arm, not wanting to damage the king’s- his king’s- already controversial image. He would always walk a few steps behind the royal party, making sure his station would not be brought into question. Winter had gotten sick of it within a month and began walking arm-in-arm with Simon, not allowing him to duck off.

The task was muscle memory, no need to focus.

He had been so gentle the first time they slept together, neither one wanting to explore their shared and differing kinks just yet. They were clumsy as they fumbled with each other's clothes, both acting like it was their first time all over again. Winter whispered praises as if they were prayers the entire time.

Simon was snapped back to reality by a hand tangling in his hair, then yanking his head back.

He looked up at Winter, drool, and precum dripping down his chin.

“You are absolutely pathetic,” Winter shook his head as Simon lowered his head in shame, “We’ll finish this later, I have a meeting in an hour and I need to be prepared,” He fixed his pants and belt, then turned to leave.

Simon stood to follow Winter out of the cell.

“What are you doing?” Winter didn’t need to turn around to know he had a shadow.

“We…We have a meeting, don’t we?”

“No, I have a meeting. You’re not my advisor Simon, you’re the traitor to the kingdom who is now my prisoner. Remember?”

Simon opened his mouth to protest but closed it again when Winter left the cell.

“Do you love me, Simon?” He stared intensely at the man behind the bars.

“I…can’t.”

“You can, and you will.” Winter left the dungeon, presumably to go to his meeting.

Simon did his best to clean off his face, but he had no way of knowing for sure.

There wasn’t much to do in the room, so he walked to the bookshelf and scanned the titles listed. Winter apparently didn’t have the same taste in literature, as Simon soon found.

Most of the books were romance novels, though there was a shelf of medical books in the middle.

Simon laughed to himself, then stopped.

This wasn’t something to laugh about. His… no, The Winter King.

��Not my king, my captor, he reminded himself.

Simon decided to lie back on the bed. He wasn’t going to give Winter the satisfaction of breaking him.

#teddy talks #theo's thoughts #winterkov #simon petrikov #simon x winter king #simoncest #the winter king #simonpetrikov #winter king x simon #winterking #dark winterkov #nsft

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holdoncallfailed · 5 months

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what was it like seeing blue in person after only ever looking at old photos and videos of them?? was it better or grounding or some other third thing??

aw this is such a lovely question thank you...i've not used the word 'grounding' before in describing it but i think that's exactly right and now i can't think of a better word for it. it was strangely humbling. it was thrillingly bittersweet. it was surreal and i still can't believe it happened at all.

for a couple years at this point (yeesh) i've been working on some long self-indulgent piece of writing about blur s/t that includes a description of the show which i've copied under the cut if you're curious...i think it's the closest i've come to articulating how it felt to be there lol.

What I realized, listening to the echo of that enormous crowd united by a single lyric, was that so much of Blur’s discography is about the inevitable return. And we can start over again repeated like a mantra, the promise of time rather than the threat of it. These songs are forward-thinking even as they remain tethered to the past: this is what might be, not what has been or is guaranteed to occur. The lyrics that get elevated into anthems through repetition are often the ones that revel most indulgently in their own ambivalence. It really, really, really could happen in the mouths of eighty thousand people beneath the spangles of light cast by the giant disco ball that had hovered, inert, above the stadium for the entire concert. It was only during this last song that it came to life and began to rotate, a brief singular moment during which the whole audience shimmered as we sang along with the band.

Here were these strange creatures whom we had spent many weeks and months and years mythologizing and here was the unequivocal fact of their existence as real people onstage before us. On Sunday Gen and I were seated much closer, near enough that we could actually watch the men themselves rather than the monitors that flanked the stage and showed the band at an often uncomfortably close distance through real-time handheld footage. But during the Sunday encore I found that they were still small enough for their silhouettes to affect the appearance of their younger selves if I let my vision blur slightly (which wasn’t difficult, with the tears in my eyes): Dave seated at the back with his careful gaze, Graham to the left in his striped shirt and cuffed jeans, Alex to the right with his long dark fringe, and Damon in the center, as always, wearing a replica of the Fila tracksuit from the 1994 “Girls & Boys” music video, drenched in sweat and grinning like a madman. I could almost convince myself that they were young and lovely again, stupefyingly beautiful as they had once been, but I tried to resist the urge. I wanted to be unable to deny the truth of time’s passage, how it keeps us apart and how it can return us to ourselves.

And Blur were indeed themselves, stubbornly human, though their skin was loosened by gravity, their figures misshapen with age, their voices pitched lower after years of singing and shouting and smoking cigarettes. They were just men, small and strange the way any of us would have been standing on that stage at that distance. We are all of us just people capable of moving and being moved by others. We all get old if we’re given the chance. I think there’s a tremendous humility in realizing that. At one point, midway through the show, Damon began to weep—he is known for sometimes tearing up during Blur’s big ballads, but these were real, shoulder-shaking sobs that brought him to his knees. He stayed like that for what felt like a long time, crouched on the stage by his piano, as the other men looked on, faintly bemused but making no move to either console him or urge him to continue with the show. Then he rose to his feet again, smiling in a watery sort of way, and returned to his bandmates.

Of course, the music was still the music. That guitar like a blade ricocheting through the air, that mutinous bass ebbing and flowing against the melody, those drums, precious and precise, like the sutures of a well-practiced surgeon, holding things in place. A thousand contradictory feelings, a million mixed metaphors, all of them insufficient to describe how it felt to be there in that crowd so suffused with adoration, like none of us—not even the band—could quite believe we were all there experiencing it together.

Gen and I said goodbye to each other as we fought against the undertow of the crowd’s mass exodus from Wembley. This, too, was brief, and perhaps anticlimactic: when she disappeared from view I was once again alone in an unfamiliar city, faced with the arduous task of wending my way through the drunken mob and navigating the metro system. There was little we could say as we parted ways, if we needed to say anything at all. Even without voicing it, I knew we agreed: it was a good show.

#Anonymous #my writing #i guess lol #also when i read 'blue' i was like the derek jarman film??? how did u know i saw that...five years ago...#blur

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