#live perf

[reineydraws]

this is a scene from opla s2, black leg gazpacho told me himself!!!

src by @op-trash-blog-of-hell

[bu99erfly]

CHOERRY SPARKLE, 240604

[we-are-inevitable]

for your consideration: plus sized katherine pulitzer

[brianskangs]

(231231) YOUNG K x SAY YES

[nex-has-gender-envy]

So like did somebody order Miragex Noah symbiote au (transformers symbiotes au )

Mirages ego's so big that he's the only symbiote that can project hallucinations of his full form to it's host. That results into Noah interacting with nothing, not just talking to himself like Eddie Brock.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me)

Had a prompt in writing group today and felt moved to write a sweet little Charles/Edwin fic! 1.4k, no warnings ^_^

Also readable on Ao3 (for registered users only - sorry, it's a last-ditch flimsy anti-AI scraping measure!)

~

Click!

Edwin blinked, partly in surprise – partly to dislodge the blots in his vision left behind by the sudden, rapid flash of white light that had danced across the pages of his book. He looked up to find the culprit grinning at him from across the room.

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon.

Edwin rolled his eyes. Ever since they’d acquired that camera as payment for a job ‘well jobbed’, Charles had scarcely put it down. Edwin, admittedly, had been intrigued by it at the start – it was certainly a testament to how far photographic technology had advanced since his own life and subsequent death. It was quite fascinating; seeing the slow, hulking monstrosities he’d been forced to sit rigidly still in front of for aeons in his youth, compressed into such a portable and efficient form. But after a few days of study, digging around in its component parts, comparing its output to that of sepia-tinted newspaper clippings from his day – as well as the baffling digital displays on Niko’s portable telephone – the novelty had worn off, and he’d turned his attention to more pressing matters.

But Charles remained enamoured. He’d had the thing slung round his neck for at least a week, and showed no signs of taking it off anytime soon.

The amateur photographer in question grinned infectiously, as the chemicals on the paper settled. “Ah, yeah. That’s a good one, that.”

He held it up proudly, and Edwin was treated to a lovingly framed image of the chair in which he sat, with an open book floating above it.

“I hardly see why you bother,” said Edwin, crossing his legs the other way and letting the book fall open on his knee. “Neither of us show up in photographs. I highly doubt that’s going to change with repeated exposures.” And a good thing, too, as Edwin hadn’t consented to be photographed in just his rolled-up shirtsleeves. His states of improper dress were quite strictly reserved for quiet, studious evenings in the privacy of their rooms; unlike Charles, he had standards with regard to flashing every dip and plane God gave him in mixed company.

“Well. Thought that counts, innit?” Charles bounced to his feet and over to the secondary cork board that had recently been added to the office. Unlike the first, which was full of case notes and theories, this one was exclusively populated by Charles’ photographic whims. The only faces that appeared were those of their living friends – Crystal, Niko, even one snap of Jenny wearing stiff shoulders and a reluctant grimace while Niko hugged her from the side.

Charles and Edwin featured only in the notable absences. Empty chairs, floating objects, the spaces between their friends in the group shots. The only one in which they were ‘visible’, by a loose definition of the word, was the one where Charles had insisted they cut eye holes out of white sheets and drape them over their heads. “Like Beetlejuice!” He’d said; and he’d sounded so excited that Edwin hadn’t even asked him why on earth one would juice a beetle, or what it had to do with playing dress-up.

The new photo found its home amongst a cluster of similar absent Edwins – a floating magnifying glass, an empty desk, a hand of Cluedo cards with no holder. “Brills,” Charles grinned, stepping back and crossing his arms to admire his collection.

“I really don’t see the point of this exercise,” said Edwin. “Who’d even know that’s a picture of someone?”

“I know, don’t I? I can look at these and be like –“ he pointed at the floating magnifying glass image – “That’s the time Edwin got all fussy about Niko’s rent contract ‘cause he thought her landlord was pulling a fast one. And this –“ his finger moved to the Cluedo cards – “This is the time Edwin knew what the answer was for forty bloody minutes, but he held off on making his accusation because he wanted to watch me go round and round in circles, like a knob. See what I mean?”

“Is your point that you keep these as evidence for blackmail?” Edwin asked.

“No, point is, I remember.” Charles tapped his forehead. “Got it all in here. Don’t need a bloody photo to remind me what you look like, do I? Seen you every day for the last thirty years.” He cast Edwin a flippant smile, soft round the edges like the warm browns of his hooded eyes. “Know your face better than I know my own.”

Edwin ducked his head, tamping down on the peculiar feeling in his face and stomach. Like an abrupt upset of the humours – an anomaly of the ectoplasm. At least, that’s how he would’ve characterised it some months or years ago. Now, he was more than painfully aware that it was probably more akin to the spectral equivalent of… blushing. Lord help him.

“Then why take the photographs at all?” Edwin pressed, setting his book aside and giving Charles his full attention. He winced at the sharp tone of his own voice. It was quite unintentional – he had no desire to judge, only to understand.

Fortunately, Charles knew his voice as well as his face. He shrugged, unoffended, eyes roving over his collection. “We’re still here, ain’t we? Not alive, but… we should have memories too, yeah?” He reached out, twitching the corner of a photo. One of Edwin – or the absence of him. Him and Niko, that is. Edwin remembered it well; remembered Niko perching birdlike on the arm of his chair, hugging his arm, nudging her head against his and beaming for the camera. She’d insisted he pose his fingers alongside hers, although in the end result of course only hers were visible. One half of a broken heart.

“Shouldn’t just be for the living, should it?” said Charles, smiling that strange, sad little smile of his at the picture. The one he was so careful not to let people see. “Making new memories to keep.”

Edwin rose, stepping carefully over Charles’ assorted chaos to join him at the board; and Charles watched his advance with that easy, open curiosity on his face. When Edwin’s hands clasped around the camera strap, Charles bowed his head and let him take the device without a fight.

Sometimes, his trust felt as real and visceral in Edwin’s hands as a living, beating heart. But now wasn’t the time for poetics.

Quickly reacquainting himself with the various switches, Edwin held the viewfinder to his eye, framed his shot, and took the snap. Charles did a remarkably good job at not flinching with the flash – but Edwin supposed this style of photography had been more commonplace in his lifetime. He just stood and watched, bemused, as Edwin retrieved the photograph and gave it three short, sharp shakes.

When the image of their photo board revealed itself, not a Charles to be seen despite the fact the camera had been pointed squarely at him, Edwin cocked his head and contemplated it. He had to concede that Charles had a point; though there was no Charles in the photo, Edwin could easily fill in the gaps himself. How could he not? He’d watched the white light paint Charles’ familiar, beloved features; highlighting the amused twitch of his lip, the fond warmth in his eyes. The glint of his gold chain against his white vest, cutting stark across the warm tones of his skin. The confused acceptance with which he’d stood perfectly calmly, waiting for Edwin’s motives to reveal themselves.

Edwin stepped up to the board and held out his hand. Wordlessly, Charles dropped a drawing pin into his palm.

“This,” said Edwin, glancing sidelong at Charles as he carefully pinned the photo up beside the silly shot of the two of them in their butchered bedsheets. “Is the time Charles made a surprising amount of sense; whilst talking utter nonsense.”

Charles smiled, brighter than a camera flash; the after-image of which Edwin would be carrying on the backs of his eyes for days to come.

~

Hope you liked it! Comments and reblogs are super duper appreciated! ^_^ 💛

I have no idea if I'm gonna write/post more fic for these guys, tbh my interest is relatively casual atm and my time/concentration is limited, plus at any given moment I may be lured in by the siren call of horror movie fic on my alt account. But they're very sweet and I have the odd plot bunny so we'll see!

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan and wang yibo wuji rehearsal ♥️💛💚 / source.

[jooyeonsblr]

BREAK THE BRAKE | JOOYEON

M COUNTDOWN 23/10/12

[speakofcompersion]

Ballad King Taemin 😌💕 [x]

[peach-blossoms]

缝合 (Fix You) – Zhou Shen

Album: 《反深代词》 - Track 8 Lyricist: Zhou Shen & Wang Qian Composer: Song Yang Arrangement: Song Yang & Qian Lei Producer: Qian Lei

Where to buy/listen (not available on Spotify or Youtube yet)

Live performance at 9.29Hz Concert in Hangzhou (eng subbed by me)

[T/N: literal translation of title is “sewing / suturing / mending” all artistic liberties in translation are mine, and paragraph breaks were added for ease of reading. although zs participated in writing the lyrics for many songs in this album, this detail is an even more devastating fact when it comes to this song. read the extras at the end for more sufferingdetails]

"This is a song I don't wish for you to understand. If you do understand it, give yourself a hug. Thank you for your hard work." - Zhou Shen's comment on Weibo post about the song

LYRICS

情绪伤口 修补能手 These emotional wounds were mended by a professional 短暂缝合之后又渗出血流 Shortly after suturing, blood seeped out again 同父母说 相同困惑 I told my parents to their perplexity 也正在大人身体里经历着 Adult bodies also experience the same 不停思索 寻找缘由 Thinking incessantly, seeking reasons 听见左胸传来回声的空洞 Hearing a hollow echo from the left chest 这不够好，那要改过 This is not good enough, must correct it 无尽的盼头 Hope is inexhaustible

I’m giving my all 寻找缺口 修补伤口 Find the nicks, mend the wounds I’m giving my all 缝补之后 又再次泪流 After mending, tears flow again I’m giving my all 新的伤痕 旧的内疚 These new scars, these old guilts I’m giving my all 如何才能 找到出口 How can I find the way out?

否定成果 爽约承诺 Negated gains, broken promises 都缝合成细腻温柔的眼色 Are all sewn into smooth and gentle eyes 落单门口 独行角落 Left alone at the door, in a solitary corner 都包扎成坚强独立的成就 Are all bound up into strong and independent successes

重复工作 重复失落 Work keeps repeating, loss keeps duplicating 调换角色修补找新的成果 Swapping mending roles to seek new results 不同身体 不同角落 A different body, a different corner 同样的苦痛 The pain is no different

I’m giving my all 大人背后 常乌云盖着 Behind each adult are often dark clouds I’m giving my all 孩子内心 底色是晴的 The colour of a child’s heart is sunny I’m giving my all 白的天空 留了一滴墨 A drop of ink lands in the white sky I’m giving my all 如何调色 如何来涂抹 How to blend the colours, how to paint them

所有无助的绑住的困住的我都清楚却也无法挣脱 These helplessness, bindings, and entrapments, I know them all, yet cannot break free 所有偏执的逃离的期盼的他们都懂也无法从头来过 These fixations, running away, and expectations, they understand them all, yet cannot start over

I’m giving my all 各自运转 各自角色 Each of us is functioning, each of us has a role I’m giving my all 你们都是 第一次活着 You all are living for the first time I’m giving my all 万般无意 伤口却留着 However unintentional the slights, they still leave behind wounds I’m giving my all 伤痕再多 也值得被爱着 How ever many scars there are, you are worthy of being loved

EXTRAS

About the song’s setting:

“In the world of 200 years later, all injured humans will be mended by magical robots. Adult robots are responsible for mending adult humans, and young robots are responsible for mending children; they form a family unit and work together. All human wounds will eventually heal, except for one part...

One day, a young mending robot asks its parents for help: "This child's heart was mended yesterday, but today the wound has reopened..."

The parents, who are also mending robots, smile as if they are used to it: "Adult hearts are just as difficult to mend...but you'll get used to it after you mend them a few more times."

The little robot knocked on its chest unknowingly – a hollow echo came from the metal shell. "Can a robot without a heart mend a bleeding heart?" it wonders.

The little robot decides to exchange the client with its parents. It wants to find the answer to achieving "completely mended".

With its parents around and watching, it opens the chest of an adult human with great expectation―

Misunderstanding, regret, guilt, helplessness, self-blame, pain...

These emotions, akin to old and new scars crisscrossing, cover up the bleeding heart in layers.

"We can't truly mend the person’s heart, right? Dad, Mom..."

"Perhaps...but as long as the heart is still beating, we still have a chance to mend it again."”

Zhou Shen’s Weibo post sharing his thoughts about the song:

“Mending” is a song that made me very very very very very very very very very very very very very stressed.

Sometimes I even felt that I was doing something that was a bit "indelicate". But I also feel that "being seen" has a certain kind of meaning!!

As a singer, I feel like I am a little mending robot from 200 years later, slowly mending everyone's new and old wounds, including my own, through singing.

I hesitated many times, wondering if writing these emotions would be a bit "indelicate", but I ended up burying many of my own shards into the lyrics. I also worried whether this song would touch the shards that many listeners buried in their memories that they do not want to be touched?

But just like the little robot, despite failures and despite lack of solutions, it still persists in dissecting the wound and mending it again and again.

In the face of unchangeable facts, only by facing and meeting them head on, only by accepting and understanding, only by listening and empathizing, only by being sincere and courageous, and never giving up on yourself, can you create opportunities and allow the wounds to be truly mended.

In fact, I also know that many wounds will not heal in the end.

But to have the opportunity to mend them again and again, I think that is a very happy thing.

I wish for everyone: To not be afraid of new wounds, to not be afraid of old scars; no matter what, you are always worthy of being loved.

I am very happy to be your mending little robot.

Each of us is our own mending little robot.

Even if you have been bearing new and old scars all this time, it will not prevent you from being surrounded by passionate love!!! Not because of any reason, but because it is you, so it is worth it!”

[fyexo]

240529 [4K] CHEN - “Empty” Band LIVE Concert [it's Live]

[heymeowmao]

CMBF S4 - E2-1 | 呓语 (Yi Yu) by Wang Zhengliang, Wei Li'an, Xu Haiqiao, Li Zefeng

[jjanguri]

happy birthday to our sunshine, seok matthew ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

[artemisbarnowl]

Bought this dress online and only realised AFTER that it's gonna look exactly like I'm entering my hoe era.

[all-of-the-good-ones-are-taken]

Luke Hemmings | Diamonds (2021)

[miyawaki]

not le sserafim getting me into overwatch....