#sorted by first letter of first lyric in song

[tears-in-my-tardis]

i made a playlist for good omens 2

prepare for emotional pain

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

Q

R

S

One Headlight by The Wallflowers

T

Dilaudid by The Mountain Goats

U

V

W

X

Y

Unknown / Nth by Hozier The Bomb by Florence + The Machine

Z

[russellsppttemplates]

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (Lando Norris)

Y/N and Lando both have jobs that require good sight and attention to detail and yet they're oblivious to their feelings for eachother

Note: english is not my first language. I'm in a very fluffy mood, so I got really excited when I got this request! This also makes my expectations even higher and calls me single in about seventeen different languages at once...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a needle (for sewing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey guys! How's everyone?", Max said to the camera as you made sure the set up was right, the screen showing his and Lando's faces on one screen and the table on the other like it was supposed to.

"As per your many, many requests, we have brought our graphic designer at Quadrant, Y/N", Lando announced as you appeared on camera, sending a very awkward first wave to the camera, "today's stream is little different than our usual programming, but it was the only way she agreed to be in one! You guys really wanted to see her, so we had to be creative!", Max said as he moved the friendship bracelets making kit into view on the table.

"Hey, Queen Taylor said we should make the friendship bracelets, so we're just following her!", you chuckled, looking at all the coloured threads and colourful beads, sorting them out and grabbing a pen and paper so you could draw your ideas.

"Since you guys wanted to get to know Y/N, can I tell them to send in questions?", Lando questioned you, "sure, I'll answer them to the best of mu ability", you smiled.

You were picking the letters you needed for the bracelet you were making when Max spoke up, "first one: how did you start working with Quadrant? I'd love to work on the team when I finish my degree!".

"I saw the job offer, and I must admit at first I didn't really know much about the company. I looked it up, looked cool enough and I sent my CV and portfolio in. So keep your eyes peeled for any offers, I guess? We have them now on the website, which was my doing, so you can check them out there if you want to be part of the team", you offered.

"I need help, guys", Lando said as he fiddled with his bracelet, the orange and grey beads with his initials sliding on the elasticated material, I can't do the closing knot on my own", he pouted as you placed your bracelet down.

"You have to flip it like this, here. Just put it on your wrist and I'll do the rest", you ushered him, your fingertips gingerly touching his hand and wrist as you quietly laced it, "this way we don't get frilly bits out and it looks pretty, see? Pretty!", you smiled, modelling his wrist for the camera.

Pretty, that's what he often thought about you. Not only pretty, but it was one of the first physical traits that came to mind.

"We should all have matching ones!", Max said as he completed his bracelet, impressively on his own, revealing the colourful beads with Quadrant spelled in white round beads with black letters, "I'll make one for each of you", he said as he watched you show your own, pink beads and a lyric he assumed was from a Taylor Swift song.

"I'll make Y/N's, she helped me after all", Lando said as one brave fan sent a comment into the chat.

He's so giddy to make Y/N a bracelet, it's a shame it will snap because of his lack of skills

Am I delusional if I say that they'd make a great couple?

If you're delusional, then what do I call myself? I still think they're making heart eyes at eachother whenever they catch the slightest glimpse!

We're joining forces, I think it's a noble pursuit!

He's a dork, Y/N, but you should give him a chance

Have you always known you wanted to be a graphic designer?

"I thought about different careers before I settled on this one, for now at least", you explained, "engineering was in the running up, but then I figured out that I was curious about how things worked, but that didn't mean that I wanted to be the one working on it. And this was a way to express my creativity, my strategy planning as well, and at the moment it's been quite good", you smiled as Lando grabbed your wrist softly, "I need to make sure this fits", he interrupted, "and it won't snap because I've learnt how to do it, thank you very much", he blushed. So he, too, was reading the comments, choosing not to dwell in them.

"Look, this way you always have a lucky charm with you everywhere you go, even if we're not together. We're eachothers lucky charms!", Lando announced as Max mafe a fake gagging noise.

.

"Are you all ready?", you said as you and Tara walked inside the room, clasping your watch on your wrist and hoping to find the boys ready.

Quadrant had been invited to a gala dinner that celebrated the companies in the same line of business, inviting five people to take part in the meal. After some team members politely declining the invitation since they had things booked already, the group ended up being Lando, Max, Callum, Tara and yourself.

The dress required everyone to up their usual style, hence the long dress you were wearing. Even though it was far from your usual everyday attire, you felt beautiful in the dress you ended up with after browsing the online shops for a while. The cut was simple, the skirt widening from your waist down and complimenting your curves as the sheen from the midnight blue fabric looked soft and sweet against your skin.

Lando seemed to think the same, trying his best to not let his mouth hang open when you and Tara walked inside their room, heels clicking on the wooden floor as you hurried them, "does it really take that long to put on a suit? I had to help Tara with the laces on her back and we still got ready faster than the three of you?", you asked, shaking your wrist to check if the dainty watch wasn't going to fall and that it wasn't too tight either.

Looking up to meet Lando's eyes, you were sure you physically and audibly gulped. No one should look that good in a plain white shirt. The cuffs were still unbuttoned, but the shirt itself was tucked in his black pants. He didn't have any jewellery, so his tanned skin caught your eye as it contrasted with his clothes.

"Lando has a problem with his shirt and we are trying to solve it", Max said, a little bit too antsy given that, at the naked eye, there didn't seem to be a big issue with the piece of clothing you had been inspecting quite closely.

"There was a loose button, and I tried to fix it, but I made it worse", Lando said as he pointed to the button on his hand, the slight movement showing you the place where it was supposed to he holding the piece together and closed.

"Three people in this room and no one thought about grabbing the sewing kit from the amenities?", Tara suggested, looking for it in the box that was the same as it was in your room, "see? Simple as that! Can you sew it, Y/N? My hand isn't fully healed yet, I can't quite grasp something that small yet".

Tara had injured herself earlier on in the week, prompting her to ask to tag out of the gala until you pleaded her to go so you wouldn't be alone, so she couldn't do it. None of the other guys seemed to even know how to pull the thread through the needle, so you grabbed the kit from Tara's hand, "sure, I'll do it", you said, "if that's okay with you, that is", you looked over at Lando.

"Sure, anything to solve this. Do I keep it on or should I take it off?", he questioned, wanting to slap himself straight after at his offer. Why would he volunteer to be shirtless in front of you? It certainly wasn't the way to go, shoving himself like that.

"On should be fine", you muttered, missing the snickers going on behind you as you wet the thread with your tongue, careful to not transfer any of the lipstick on it and ruining the piece without point of return for good, easily looping it through and adjusting the size of the ends.

"Button", you put your hand out so Lando could place it in your fingers, "I will do my best not to poke you, let me know if I do so accidentally", you mumbled at the closeness to him you found yourself in. It was the third button from the top, and as much as you loved the sight of the shirt slightly undone, the dinner required his shirt to be done up. Looping the thread on the button a few times, you moved to pierce the crisp white fabric so it would be secure, your hands dangerously close to his skin as you could hear his laboured breath. Lando still remembered and thought constantly about your fingers touching his hand and wrist when you did the friendship bracelets video for the YouTube channel, and right now, it only added to his predicament.

"It's done, all good!", you exclaimed, looking up as you cut the thread and seeing Lando's eyes on you. The intensity nearly threw you off of your balance as you stood the tiniest bit crouched down on your high heels.

Scrambling to further the distance between your bodies, you smoothed out the non existent wrinkles on your dress, storing the supplies back in the kit as Lando managed to utter out a thank you, too stunned and intoxicated by your scent to say anything else.

"I sewed a button as neither of you look any more ready that you were when we got here? We're going to be late!", you hurried, sitting next to Tara and ignoring her smirk as you scrolled through your phone.

.

"That shoot will have to wait since Lando won't be back here soon, then", you said, moving things around in the online shared calendar, "when did you say you could again? I'm sorry", you asked, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your eyes, adjusting your glasses and looking at him through the screen.

"The first weekend of the next month", Lando assured, "are you okay, Y/N?", he asked. The bags under your eyes didn't fool anyone and you looked tired. And sick, he guessed by the layers of clothing you had on.

"I had a pretty shit day, actually", you admitted, "I had to go with the guys from storage because there was an issue. The supplier sent the samples and we wanted to get things moving so I could have some ideas for the description and the social media team also wanted to prep the draft for the whole story telling, but it all went under. I also think I caught some bug, so it's been a fun day", you exaggeratingly smiled, mocking your own misery.

"You look like you need a hug, Y/N. Do you need a hug?", Lando asked as you nodded, "Actually, that would be pretty good, but I live alone. The neighbours would think I'm pretty weird if I went around like this asking for one, too", you reasoned.

Even though he wasn't next to you, Lando still managed to pull a smile out of you as he got up from the chair he was sitting in, hugging his laptop, "did you feel that hug?", he loudly wondered, "it's full of Get well soon fairy dust!", he smiled charmingly.

"Fairy dust, mate?", Callum wondered, reminding you of his presence in the videocall, "you try and spend more than a few hours with a little girl and you let me know. Mila has taught me all about fairy dust and princess magic", Lando added.

.

"How will we get out of here?", you wondered, starting to regret joining Lando, Max and Pietra when they said they were going to watch a football game. You loved the sport and you figured it would be a nice distraction after a work loaded week, but now, things were looking less than a distraction.

"We will let them space out once the game finishes, free up the roads as well because getting out of here will be a pain, too", Lando suggested.

The game granted your team a win and three points in the championship, the crowd going wild as they clapped, whistled and waved their scarfs, slowly leaving the stadium.

"Should we make a run for it now?", Pietra said, holding her boyfriend's hand as she allowed him to pull her away.

You followed Lando, thanking his choice of a colourful hoodie to wear today as it made it easier for you to spot him, "go in front of me, I'll back you up", he switched positions. You weren't having too much trouble until you were met with a ramp, people carelessly shoving others as they tried to leave as quick as they could, all with the same intent of avoiding traffic and crowded roads.

"Here, Y/N", you heard Lando as he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers in his and pulling you along, excusing you two as you approached Max and Pietra again, "we're here", you tapped the blonde woman's shoulder with your free hand.

"Goodness, that was and adventure", she said once you reached the stadium car park, the crowd clearing up significantly as there was maybe another ten people headed the same way as you were now, "is everyone alright? I think someone stepped on my foot quite a few times, or many people stepped on it at various different times", you reasoned, walking alongside Lando still.

"Don't we need to hand the bracelets back?", Max said as he looked at the sign, taking his bracelet off and depositing it in the box in the booth, Pietra doing the same as you seemed distracted.

"Are you okay, Y/N?", Max asked, seeing you and Lando were still holding hands and, because of that, not taking off your bracelets.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?", you scrunched your eyebrows, "we need to hand the bracelets back in, so I kind of need to have yours, too", he teased, looking at your hand still entwined with Lando's.

Removing your hand from Lando's as if it har started burning all of a sudden, you removed the bracelet, apologising quietly to the stadium employee as you thanked him, "shall we go now?".

"Dinner out?", Lando gulped, getting into the driver's seat, "Good idea, yes", Max added, sitting in the passenger's seat as you and Pietra sat in the back, your hand rubbing your other hand that had been laced with Lando's own one for a long time. Uh oh, you were falling in love.

.

The launch was finally over after an amazing response from the fans, leaving your heart happy and warm with a sense of mission accomplished.

"Is everything packed into the van?", you asked Tara, "yes, it's just this box. It has fragile things, so do you think you guys can take it in the car with you? It probably only fits at the front, so you'll have to squeeze in with the boys on the back", she smiled apologetically, "it's fine, we'll keep eachother warm like penguins do", you chuckled, holding the door open as she set the box safely.

Saying goodbye to her and the rest of the team, Max and Lando joined you, "You sit in the middle seat", Max pointed at you, opening the door ao you could scoot closer to Lando and he could get in.

"Could you tell me how long we have until get back?", Lando asked the driver, "with traffic at this hour, I'd say around 90 minutes", he smiled, turning on the blinker so he could leave the car park.

"Plenty of time for me to catch up on sleep, then!", you cheered, making yourself comfortable in the space you had, folding your scarf into an impromptu travel pillow, closing your eyes.

"Are you a snorer?", Max asked, making you blindly swat his thigh, "only when I'm sick, and lucky for you, I'm in presteen health, no blocked nose", you grumbled.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. In the last week, all of the nights combined, you probably slept less than thirty hours, so your body was indeed in need of rest.

"And there it goes", Max said as your pillow undid itself, Lando lifting his shoulder in reflex so your head wouldn't drop drastically, landing on top of him, "Good thing she isn't our engineer, hm?", he chuckled, looking at how his bestfriend was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

"I think I'm in love with Y/N", Lando whispered after he took your appearance in. You had forgone wearing make-up today, so he could see all your moles and scars, your pouty lips and the darkened skin under your eyes. It took everything in him to not bend down and kiss your forehead.

"Congrats on being the last one to find out, mate", Max added, shaking his head, "I genuinely thought you had some issue processing information, I'm glad to find out you don't.

"Now you just have to act on it, which is going to take you, what? Two, three more months?".

[tonixe]

Charade...

a/n: Omg, like guys I'm lowkey obsessed with Coriolanus Snow, like obsessed, but I can't like to stop, like I'm literally going crazy for this white boy like lemme just love you like pleaseeeeee. Also, I got heavily influenced to write this after watching the charade movie, this fic will have lyrics connected to it, so you can listen to it or not, the choice is yours. The song I used is Charade by Henry Mancini.

warning: angst, mentions of some sort of cheating, reader being used, yelling. proofread (?) maybe, idk.

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

word counter: 1.6k

When we played our charade...

You stood there fitting on your dress, one of the maids tightening up your corset on the back of your dress. You were going to attend an event, being seen by the public of the people of Panem. Well, being the first lady of Panem, organizing, and attending thousands of events in your husband's honor. Your role was to keep a smile, even when it was a good time for you or your country. You served the public and served your husband, looking inside yourself into the mirror in front, as the maid finished fighting your dress up. It was a red, burgundy dress that he personally picked for you, to match your husband's suit.

We were like children posing...

You weren't originally supposed to be in the position, you weren't even supposed to be married to him. You only know if when you were kids, him and his cousin, Tigris. You were familiar, knowing her more than you knew him. But time came to pass by, and you managed to know more about him, his likes, and dislikes, he was always around his grandmother when he stopped by you. It was always a vivid memory for you, playing seek with the younger version of himself and running around the park, you really missed him, but now it didn't feel like him at all.

Playing games..acting out names..guessing the parts we played...

Placing your hand near where your heart lay, staring at the mirror hoping it would break. It was a small world, you both went to the same academy, where you met him again after a little time apart, you still sent letters to him though, hoping he read every last word you marked on the page. You manage to reunite there, spending your time with him, talking, walking to classes, and doing everything together.

Oh, what a hit we made...

You felt your heart pumping when you were near him, his nice demeanor making you feel safe. He was your everything, you didn't think he thought the same but you still kept the feelings to yourself. Remember sitting in the library after hours, studying next to him, feeling yourself getting drowsy, almost falling down on your open textbook. "Are you tired?" You turned to him, he didn't look at you, his eyes looking at the textbook. Your cheeks flushed, before he turned to you. You felt your palm getting sweaty, and the pace of your heart increasing, "No" You lied, turning back to your book, "I know when you lie, Y/N" He tapped his shoulder, your eyes widening, "You sure?" You asked. He nodded. You placed your head on his shoulder trying not to make him uncomfortable or distracted. Smiling to yourself, before closing your eyes, you swore to yourself that you saw a little smile on his solemn face.

We came on next to closing...

You were really satisfied when you were with him, a smile never leaving your face. Spending time with him whenever you can, and he loved it too. A smile is always on his face when he sees you in the hallway, running towards him.

Best on the bill..lovers until...

He was familiar with your family. Your mom liked him. Your father respected him. You were happy, but happier when he confessed his feelings to you, your cheeks felt hot. Everything felt like a dream to you, this was what you wanted. His hands were on your face gently, as he pulled you into a kiss, you closed your kiss, loving every minute of it. You felt on top of the world, and your crush liked you back, isn't that what you wanted the whole time.

Love left the masquerade...

Everything took a sharp turn when reaping day came, he was in the top 24th of the best students in the academy, pairing in the Hunger Games as a mentor. You were happy for him, hugging him and giving him kisses. Him, laying down on your lap, as you played with his hair, as he voiced his wants to you. You listened to him, enjoying his ribboning voice to your ears, kissing him on his forehead.

Fate seemed to pull the strings...

Until you saw Lucy Gray, on the holographic screen. You never saw her as an opponent, she actually made you curious, about her voice and how she represented herself. She was from District 12, with a voice only found in the country of Panem, and a nice one too. Your eyes seemed to tune on to the TV screen, watching her. She was going to be the ticket for Coriolanus to win, hoping in your heart that she would win the hungry games. Though she physically didn't suit the standards of a fighter. You gave out prayers at night for her to stay alive for Coriolanus.

I turned and you were gone...

Time... when you Coriolanus would hang out was shortening. His time is consumed by the Hunger Games. Most of his time, his thoughts, and mind went to her. You understood why he couldn't talk to as often as you wanted, but a small part of your heart panged from the thought. Many thoughts rushed through your head, thinking that Lucy Gray would replace you as a seal upon his heart, you tried to wash them out, but couldn't. It was irrational to think that of your boyfriend, you wished you didn't believe too.

While from the darkened wing...

You tried to voice your thoughts to him but were met with a quiet stare. Your face was worried, and your heart was slowly crumbling. "Coriolanus, wait..please!' You exclaimed you cried out, but he kept on walking down the halls, before he turned to you, "Y/N, how can I..pay attention to the games, if you distracting me" That was the first time he raised his voice at him, your eyes widen, you felt your eyes getting glossy. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you, "C-coryo, I'm just worried, please" You begged, he was getting irritated by you, "I just don't want to lose you" Your voice died out, your chest heaving, tears leaking onto your cheeks. Hearing his footsteps coming closer to you, his hands on your cheeks, "There is nothing going on with me and Lucy Gray, alright" He looked at you in the eyes, and your stomach dropped. Before he released it and walked down to the halls where the games were going to resume.

The music box played on...

Your heart beating in your chest, as you collapsed to the floor, Wanting to tear up but couldn't feel anything to let out. Your heart pumps a sad symphony as you place your hand on top of your chest, holding yourself close.

Sad little serenade...

You watched on your TV, your siblings, and your parents peering into the television. As you walked to the parlor room, looked at the television, looking at Lucy Gray being the last one alive in the games. Your heart jumped, feeling elated for Coriolanus and his victory being secured. You wanted to run to him, hug him, give him kisses on his cheeks, but the pang still ringing in your heart. Knowing that the seal of his love was won by another person, though it wasn't official, you still felt it.

Song of my heart's composing...

You went to the academy, going to your classes. You wanted to see Coriolanus, and hug him after his victory, waiting what felt like hours for you to go and run to him. Entering into the classroom and sitting down, looking to the side where Coriolanus was supposed to sit. It was weird, your dear Coryo. Would never missed any days of the academy anything, he always put his education first. You turned to your left, seeing Clemensia. Wasn't he his partner in class, "Um, excuse me. Have you seen Coriolanus" You asked, hoping for answers for yourself. She shook her head... wasn't it strange. The day after his win, he was magically gone. You needed answers...

I hear it still, and I always will...

The news hit you like a truck, Coriolanus volunteering his time in the military. it was odd, his goal, or dreams better to say, was graduating, and then going to a university, it didn't make sense at all why, he would go that route. He wouldn't do anything, he didn't tell you, right.

Best on the Bill...

You wrote letters, though time did pass

you still wrote letters to him, though you didn't send them, not knowing his direct location, but you hoped he was still alive, safe, and sound. Sending some prayers for him to come back, every day and night. Though you didn't give him a proper goodbye, you still felt you were entitled to do it.

A total of three years passed, you counted them. 365 days every year, waiting for him to come, maybe for you. But you just wanted to see him again.

Charade...

You heard a knock on your door and opened the door to see a matured Coriolanus at your door. Your heart dropped. It didn't feel real to you at all. You wanted to cry and hug him, but you kept yourself composed, looking him in the eyes, he didn't say anything. He offered you a dehorned, red rose. His appearance changed, his blond curls shortened, he was wearing a red suit and his face was stern, less gentle than you remembered. You took it, placing it in your heart, "I missed you" You whispered, feeling tears rolling down your cheeks.

But now, you are in his mess. Going out into the hall, as he waited for you, putting your hands around his, he turned to you, whispering into your ear, "You look beautiful" As you both walked into the awaiting people, waiting to see yours and his appearance.

Hearing the symphony die out, as you reached the shining light of the chandelier above.

[mossgh0st]

As If It’s Heaven’s Gate (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary | Levi is caught in a dark place following the battle of heaven and earth. Believing he’s undeserving of life’s sweetness, he deprives himself until you show up on his doorstep. Inspired by and based on Too Sweet by Hozier.

Content | Angst, Fluff. Sort of slow burn? No use of y/n. Levi is a grump, reader is shorter than him. Brief mentions of off-screen sex. Italics are song lyrics that each section is inspired by.

Pairings | Levi/Reader. Mentions of Jean/Pieck.

Notes | As soon as I heard Too Sweet, I knew I needed to write about Levi. Header is from ‘kii on Pinterest. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————

It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

After the war, Levi becomes a creature of the night. His meticulous bedtime routine and eves of deep, restful slumber have become wrought with nightmares, teeming with the faces of everyone he’s ever loved having succumbed to their bitter ends. He’s forgone the tea, a relic of a previous era; he now prefers an amber liquid that stings on the way down. A balm that numbs, heavy bottomed glass filled only a quarter of the way. When he ventures beyond the confines of his home, he asks for the tippy top of the top shelf - Levi always takes his whiskey neat.

You know you don’t gotta pretend. Baby, now and then, don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Some days, he’s lucky if he retires before the sunrise peeks over the hills and pulls itself up to the high point of the sky. Letters go unanswered, bookshelves less sparse as he fills the majority of his time with thick, leather-bound tomes. The newspaper has becomes the perfect kindling, headlines boasting peace negotiations melt and turn runny with the heat of the blaze. When Levi wakes each hazy afternoon, it’s with the lingering scent of bonfire strung about the atmosphere. His once grey eyes have turned deep, a color so sharpened it resembles the water on a lake just before the claps of thunder rumble and bring down swells of rain.

But while in this world, I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three.

He knows he won’t live forever. He’s not at all interested. At this point, he’s pleading for the same sweet release from the world he afforded Erwin. Levi has spent so much time dwelling in the night, the darkness is threatening to become him. Then, you show up, one damp afternoon. Modest sundress, two small bags, a green ribbon tying back your hair. The glow you emanate is too much for him. He wants to be angry, filled with a rage so intense it convinces you to leave running in the midst of the spring storm, ribbon flying behind you. The pit in his stomach solidifies when he can’t bring himself to be irate, softened by the cold flush of your cheeks and the sheepishness of your smile as you stand, delicate in his doorway.

You’re too sweet for me, you’re too sweet for me.

At first, your presence does nothing to alter his routine. You rise with the sun, the first blinks of morning are spent brewing a sweet coffee in his kitchen, silent save the chattering of the birds. The dregs of his previous evening’s fire catching in the wind and mingling with the scent of bitter coffee grounds. Levi rises long after the sun has hit it’s peak, emerging in loose slacks and a half undone shirt, the sleeves rolled. You cross paths only briefly, while he pours his glass of amber whiskey and you prepare your cup of evening tea. A silent understanding has occurred - you can stay, if you don’t intervene. So you read in the overgrown garden, take your coffee with milk and two sugars, visit the bookstore, the seamstress down the block from the town’s main square, and worry about him only when you are tipping over the ledge into sleep.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The first change is subtle: tea leaves are disappearing faster than you’re brewing them; you know he’s dipping into the store after you retire each evening. Then, when the usual night terrors creep up again, plaguing your mind and leaving your lungs in a vice grip, the second change occurs. Levi waking and comforting you after a string of particularly violent dreams, a different sort of understanding passes when he murmurs, “I still see them, too.” You find him in your bed then, most mornings. Your routines still separate, bodies occupying different halves of the day for weeks. Coffee, bookstore, seamstress, reading, garden. It continues on, life in your solitary bubbles, except the brief overlapping in the early morning when your breaths mingle in the same space between your sleeping forms.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong.

The paradigm shifts once more when he begins to rouse the same time as you. A brief wave of shame washes over you as you realize he’s already awake, you cannot observe his closed eyes and smoothed forehead, the lines of his face set in peace, the soft parting of his lips, or the slow rise of his chest beneath the thin blankets. That morning, you show him how to make the coffee, and he grumbles after burning the first pot, squinting in the bright light. He notices you smiling out of the corner of his eye and something rattles around in his chest. You add three sugars to your cup. He accompanies you to both the bookstore and the seamstress, his silent presence a new comfort. Levi wants to ask why you chose him, chose his home, when there are happier and more accommodating friends, current or former members of the 104th. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be better off with someone like Mikasa, in her quiet cottage by the sea. Even Jean and Pieck, or hell, Reiner and his family.

You're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain.

Within a few months, Levi’s world has changed. It’s brighter, fuzzy around the edges. There’s a few sundresses in the closet of his room, a growing stack of books on his dresser. A knit shawl is draped over the chair in the living room; and the guest bed hasn’t been used in several weeks. He lets her brew the coffee in the morning, his palate now well suited for the taste, and takes chrysanthemum tea in the evenings. The garden has a bench now, front row to the beds of geranium, lavender, and snapdragon. When you smile at him through the kitchen window, an understanding dawns on him, an awakening blooms inside of him. He’s seen this look before, many times; over a shared water jug during an expedition, sleepy and exhausted over a fire surrounded by their comrades, during meetings with military leadership, after the battle of heaven and earth, and on the day you were assigned to his squad. You would never go to Mikasa’s, or to Jean and Pieck, even Reiner, or anyone else. He would never let you.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape.

The first touch of morning is chill, a breeze dancing its way through the open window, sheet gathered at his waist as Levi rouses from sleep. He hears your hums from the kitchen and swings his feet over the bed. He’s drawn to you like bees are to flowers, cloying aroma and sunlight and all things good. Forgoing the tie of his robe, he begins purposeful strides down the hall. Then, you’re there, back turned and hair down. The hem of your pale nightgown sways as you wait for the pour of coffee, glowing in the sunrise, hands over your upper arms to stave off the late summer air. You’re lost in a daydream. Levi comes to stand behind you, listening to the melody you hum quietly. The deprecating, nagging voice he contends with daily in his mind is quieted - it’s just you now; always you.

If you could sit in a barrel, maybe I’d wait.

It’s quiet when he slides an arm around your waist, body warm and flushed. It’s quiet when you turn in his hold, meeting his grey gaze with lingering surprise and pink cheeks. It’s quiet as he pulls you in closer still, hands coming up to rest on his chest. Quiet, as Levi brushes his forehead against yours, eyes closed, fingers flexing in their hold of you. Completely silent, as he tilts your chin up, up, up, and brushes his lips with yours. The taste of you nothing like he had ever dreamed, and oh, had he dreamed. When you push up onto your toes to deepen the pressure, sigh into his mouth, his black bitter heart nearly bursts through his chest.

Until that day…

And when he takes you shortly after, coffee long forgotten, limbs so tangled it’s near impossible to discern where you end and Levi begins, lips parted and dewy with sweat and each other; he can only think of the sweetness this life has afforded him in you, how the bitterness of his past has made way for this belonging.. well. There’s truly no such thing as too sweet, is there?

[naneun-no]

From my drafts so it’s late but:

Today’s delulu thought is that Standing Next to You has too many lyrical coincidences to not be about Jimin.

🫣 I SAID IT WAS DELUSIONAL OKAY

You are free to disagree. You probably should 🤣

I mean we know it wasn’t written by Jung Kook but obviously the version he recorded was arranged with and for JK, and “leave your body golden” can’t be a coincidence right? Like it’s the whole ass album name, plus a word that carries connotations of JK himself, which the ppl who worked with him on Seven must have known.

So if that wasn’t a coincidence… then what about:

1. “How we left and right is something we control” — a callback to both Left and Right by CP feat JK, but also a nod to Butter, a massive BTS hit and a song that he performs alongside his boyfie bestie JM.

2. “When it’s deep like DNA, something they can’t take away” — a callback to another massive BTS hit, interesting. And *delulu warning* also reminds me of JM and JK’s extreme similarities that they themselves have referred to before?? They’re wired the same, they have the same sense of humor, they live and breathe for the same shit and even though they have some very key differences, they really do seem like twin flames (even if you just see it as platonic). They are similar in ways that seem braided into the fibers of their being. Like, in their DNA 🧬 some may say. *delulu warning #2* I’m also reminded of Jimin’s Letter lyrics: “After all this time has passed will we still be the same? Just like we were when we first met.”

Also, “something they can’t take away” is an interesting turn of phrase… more on that later.

3. Okay the real meaty part:

Screaming I’ll testify that we'll survive the test of time, they can't deny our love. They can't divide us, we'll survive the test of time I promise I'll be right here

[I seriously can’t believe how closeted-couple-coded this song is]

First off, again with the Letter lyrics mirrored here with the “test of time.” Then it’s got all this drama about being ripped apart and how it won’t happen and how they’ll be next to each other no matter what and that they have “something they can’t take away.”

Not only does all that line up with other Letter lyrics, but it is so goddamn dramatic and for what?

Be for real, what straight couple in this day and age would have this much working against them?? The only possible explanations are: 1) within the fantasy world of a song I suppose this could be some sort of Romeo and Juliet/West Side Story motif, and to be fair the music video did have a kind of rival gang/crime family look to it? Sort of? With the men fighting below the stage? Idk. Or it could be 2) the fact that idols do in fact often have to hide even their straight relationships, which is wild to me. But I know it’s a thing, so. I suppose there’s that. JK doesn’t seem the type though honestly. I think he’d be even more open about it than V.

On the other hand, the lyrics seem SO fit for a couple who are a) queer, b) closeted, c) currently in/about to be in a legislatively homophobic military and country (am I saying that right? Lol) and d) internationally famous pop idols in the SAME BAND who are both widely regarded as heterosexual sex symbols and would be shunned by many people in their homeland AND internationally if their queerness were to be revealed, much less if they were truly an item and THAT news broke.

Whew. That was a lot but like… that would be a real example of a relationship that would be VERY threatened by outside forces plotting against them and trying to separate them. Not JK and a hot blonde model, not him and a Korean actress, not basically any other scenario but a queer relationship.

Idk I know he didn’t write it but like ??? What the hell is that theme? I’m dying to get inside the mind of the people who DID write it, because are they or are they jikookers at this point like?!

4. Just for fun I’ll also point out the “leave your body golden like the sun and moon” 😏 like. Okay. At this point the songwriters are watching Jikook compilations, drooling over @slaaverin edits like convince me they’re not. CONVINCE ME.

5. “Deeper than the rain”?! “The pain”?! Alright I’m not even serious at this point but ??? Rainy day fight 🌧️?!?! 🤣🤣

6. “Standing next to you” oh you mean like… for 18 months? In a companion enlistment program? Like that?

Alright alright I’m done but you get my point. What even is this song if not an anthem of jikookery?! It’s more on-the-nose than Letter, more sneaky than Still With You. It wasn’t written by JK but at this point I’m calling that the songwriters are as delulu as me.

Hope y’all are well. If you made it to the end of this thank you for donning your tinfoil hat with me and I hope you at least got a giggle.

✌️

[rosewaterandivy]

omg, imagine actor!steve! being spotted at rockstar!gf show (kinda like people are spotted at ts era tour in vip tent) and getting cute little bracelets from fans & him showing her them afterwards.

In honor of a follower milestone, here, have some modern!actor steve x rockstar!gf. Took the prompt and ran with it; enjoy! 💜

tender charm

🎶 baby the way you move me, it’s crazy, it’s like you see right through me and make it easier, you please me, you don’t even have to try 🎶

Steve’s not the type.

Sure, he understands these sorts of things. And for most of your fans, attending a concert of this magnitude will be a defining event in the course of their lives.

He simply was not prepared for the sheer amount of people wanting to give him bracelets. He’s much more used to your fans showing off their ink and tattoos of lyrics or your handwriting. And, as always, he felt ill prepared because he didn’t have anything to offer them in return.

Luckily, they didn’t seem to mind. He was, however, bombarded with shouts of, “Take care of our girl, Harrington!” or “Tell Cherry we love her!” and the occasional, “We’ve got our eye on you, don’t fuck it up!”

Steve didn’t intend on fucking it up. Well, not if he could help it anyway.

So when he gleefully shows you the haul on his arms and shoved into his pockets at the end of the show, breathlessly recounting fan messages he’d promised to relay, Steve doesn’t necessarily catch the mischievous gleam in your eye as you nod along.

“I ended up with a ton of these,” his fingers pinch the moody teal and emerald beads at his wrist, black letters of SHRIKE contrasting against the bright white plastic, “I guess they assume it’s about me, or us.” He concludes with a shrug.

“Yes, because I never write songs about you.”

“Oh yeah, that’d be career suicide.” He laughs and settles back against the banquet seat of the tour bus.

“Hmm, that’s weird.” You say with a twist of your lips, “You’re missing some.”

Steve furrows his brow, confused as you turn to rifle through your bag. Prizing the bracelets between your fingers, you roll them onto his wrist before letting your hands fall into your lap.

He reads the newest acquisitions quickly, eyes widening in realization.

Something simple and to the point. Had cost you all of a ten dollars and maybe an hour of your time. An understated color palette of earthy tones for each bracelet, accented with black text printed on white beads.

The first proclaims DADDY. The second declares 2 B. The third is simply a chord of leather adorned with a singular gemstone in the center.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you—“ Big hands cup your hips and drag you closer to him.

“Yes,” you squeak, clambering into his lap and resting your forehead against his. Eyes growing misty, you blink to clear the haze and get a long look at him.

Under your gaze, he attempts to duck his head and nuzzle into your neck and shoulder. Your hands, cool against his heated skin, cradle his head while your thumbs rub in soothing circles against his scalp.

“You happy?”

Steve nods, at an utter loss for words. Can’t imagine trying to speak without his voice breaking or, god forbid, bursting into tears.

“Good,” You sigh with a sweet smile. “Me too.”

It was touch and go after the shower incident, which ended up being a false alarm anyway. And then there was really no time for discussion between your tour and his filming schedule.

It wasn’t something you’d sat down and discussed, not really. Steve’s always wanted kids, but never quite let himself believed that it would happen.

Not until you barreled into his life, a whirlwind of talent and genetics with a tendency for entropy.

One look at you and he was a complete goner. Started ring shopping after your visit to Palm Springs, as a matter of fact.

So to say that he’s happy is an understatement. Overjoyed, yes. Bowled over, definitely. Synapses and neurons firing in rapid succession, far to fast for him to keep up.

All he knows is this: the brush of your skin against his, a cool balm to his fevered flesh. The scent of you—musk and salt and home— surrounds him, blankets him in comfort. Everything he could possibly want, right here in his grasp.

“We’re having a baby,” he says with a shudder. Because now he’s said it, now it’s real.

You gnaw the swell of your bottom lip, pearly white and plush pink accented by the delicious curve of your smile.

“You can say that again.”

Steve jerks up helplessly. “What—“ Sets you back a pace and eyes you up and down, “Is there—“

A slow nod as happy tears clump your lashes together. As if you can’t take his torment anymore, you smile wide and radiant.

“Twins,” you rasp, “We’re having twins.”

He fumbled with his awkward limbs, drawing you near once more, hands tentative and hesitant with newfound knowledge. Logically, he knows you won’t break— you’re built of sterner stuff, as you like to remind him. But he can’t help treating you with tenderness at a moment like this.

Graciously, you allow it. Soft hands and watery smiles, sweet murmurs that fall from your lips and pierce him all the way through—“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

A kiss planted on the tip of his nose as your hands stroke his form. Sliding smooth up his side and stoking heat into his arms and shoulders, up his spine, down his chest.

Steve’s eyes slip shut when your mouth returns to his neck. He takes your advice to heart, not that there was much convincing that was needed anyway.

It’s only then, your eyes both sharp and steady peering into the once empty parts of him, housed in the tender safety and warmth of your arms, does Steve bow his head and weep.

[custardcrazy]

Hi! If ur still taking requests for Ted Logan atm can I ask for super fluffy headcanons or a oneshot where he has a s/o who’s his exact opposite personality-wise (like they’re grumpy, sarcastic, cynical, and just has that “I hate everyone but you” attitude with Ted). Basically the black cat to his golden retriever. Thank u if u decide to do this!!

we've a star

summary: opposites do attract. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 1.2k

A/N: whoops, I think I projected a little. thanks for requesting!!

It was comical, how different you and your adoring boyfriend were. 

It was a comparison that many pointed out, if they didn't know either of you too well. Ted was generally optimistic to the point of obliviousness. He was cheerful, goofy, and was physically incapable of being rude to anybody; it wasn't hard to see that he was an all-around good guy. And the complete and utter truth was that you weren't any of those things. Blunt, pessimistic, always having a hard edge to your words. 

To an outsider, it seemed impossible that people who were completely diametrically opposed in terms of personality and demeanor could be in a relationship in the first place. After all, there was that old saying: "opposites attract", but that usually didn't work outside of the movies. Differences brought conflict, and the more things people had in common, the better. 

However, any of your mutual close friends would know of your insane, ridiculous soft spot for your partner-in-crime. 

Maybe the fact that Ted was so sweet was why you couldn't bring yourself to be truly mean to him. Maybe it was why you were still so incredibly attracted to him. Usually people who weren't so bright just got on your nerves, and you didn't have much patience for morons. But Ted was a special case. Sure, you teased him, but it was never anything more than that. And somehow, every time he screwed up doing something it was just cute. Nothing else. 

At first, it caught you off-guard. And it still did, but you were kinda used to it by now. 

Speaking of now. 

Your legs were propped up in his lap, and he was hunched over somewhat, scribbling on a legal pad that he probably had taken from his dad's office before he and Bill moved in together. His bangs kind of obscured his eyes, and you observed admiringly how now and then he flipped his head back in order to get them out of the way. He always had nice hair. And yes, it was as soft as it looked. 

Bill wasn't in their apartment at the moment, as he had left maybe two hours ago to go hang out with some buddies. He'd asked you and Ted if you wanted to go -- you liked Bill, of course, but the same couldn't be said for that particular group of people. The thing you wanted to do the least right now was talk to people. Or socialize with people at all. 

Ted wasn't people. 

Reclining back on the sort of disheveled green couch, which was probably suffocating under all the pillows, you briefly turned your attention to the TV. But you only got a quick glimpse of whatever cheesy sitcom was on before Ted broke the companionable silence. 

"Babe?" He turned the legal pad towards you, and the page he was using was covered in the chicken scratch otherwise known as his handwriting. Oh, he was brainstorming lyrics again. "Does this phrase in particular come off as too … crazy?" Brow furrowed, he pointed to a sentence. "I know you know that this song is supposed to be most ludicrous, but I don't wanna cross a certain line." 

"Duh, you and Bill decided to call it Trapped In Clown Land," you pointed out.

"It's a metaphor, babe!" He announced cheerfully, unphased by your dry remark. 

Sitting up to squint at the page, you realized that with how fast he'd been writing, his usual scrawl had degraded even further. Normally, you could pick out a couple letters and move from there, but it was impossible this time. 

"Uh, Ted, I can't read that." You poked him in the side with your toe. "Translation, please." 

He smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, babe." Lowering the pad, you noticed that even he had to focus a little to read what he'd written. 

"Shoes too big to fill / Out of fashion, but he's coming in for the kill," he recited slowly. "Something like that. Might reword it later, but I'm usually no good at rhyming stuff." The aura of self-pride radiating from him was palpable, and you reached out to ruffle his hair. He didn't protest, beaming a little. 

"I think it's fine." Shrugging, you leaned backwards again. "The big clown shoes reference is kinda direct, but just enough so it comes off as clever." For a guy who'd almost flunked English, Ted wasn't too bad at songwriting. Well, maybe you were a little biased, but you'd seen your fair share of awkward local bands to know what worked and what didn't. (Suddenly struck by a wave of intense secondhand embarrassment, you tried to suppress the memory of that one time the vocalist screwed up on stage.) 

But, thankfully, Ted intervened. "Your input is totally appreciated, babe." He leaned over, kissing you softly; it was over too soon, and he was right back to work. 

All of your efforts to dispel the cringe-worthy recollections were promptly diverted to trying to preserve your dignity and not melt into a puddle. Which was funny, because usually he was the one blushing and hiding his face. 

"Obviously," you managed to supply, and the TV suddenly looked very interesting. 

It was a little while longer before the legal pad got placed delicately (thrown) onto Ted's bed, and his arm was wound comfortably about your shoulders, his other hand in yours. Even before you started dating, something about his very, very good bear hugs was incredibly tempting. And now that you were, Ted's habit of being a cuddler had increased tenfold. 

You weren't one to break some nice peace and quiet, but this time you had a valid reason. Surprisingly. 

"Thanks for staying with me," you murmured into the crook of his neck, and even though you were used to being honest, you still felt your face heat up ever so slightly. "I know you and Bill always hang out, and you have a lot in common with those guys, too. You could've gone with them." 

" 'S really nothing," came his reply, sounding so easy and genuine. Warm. "I know that you didn't wanna go out today. Especially after you ranted about Jenna being most bothersome at work. It's totally understandable." 

You scoffed, unable to help your natural urges to make at least one venomous comment when prompted. Still, the mushy feelings in your heart didn't dissipate. "Like she always has. Isn't it a requirement for someone who works at Claire's to at least have the capacity to put up with whining tween girls?" 

"It should be," agreed Ted, his thumb running over your knuckles in a slow, gentle motion. "But don't pay too much mind to it, babe. You only gotta deal with her for, like, a couple hours." 

"It's still too long." You softened, tone growing more affectionate rather than irritated. "Not everyone has your patience." 

"But -- " 

He opened his mouth, probably to protest or deflect -- most likely at the same time, but this time you were the one who leaned up to kiss him. Unsurprisingly, it took him a second, but he quickly reciprocated, turning his body to face you more in order to make things more comfortable. 

Satisfyingly, when you parted, he was the flustered one, too distracted to continue his previous statement. 

[andy-wm]

Aesthetic Emotions and the Catharsis of Tragedy

How I feel after watching Jimin's Production Diary - The Truth Untold.

Why do we feel so drawn to emotional outpouring of others?

Why does the suffering and pain of artists make 'meaningful' art'?

I'm going to tell you why I think Face is a Greek Tragedy and why, even though the album is a complete and perfect story, we still needed Letter.

You know how sometimes you just need a good cry? And afterwards you feel better, like a weight has lifted... that's catharsis.

Based on the philosophy of the ancient greek philosopers Aristotle and Plato, the catharsis offered by tragedy in art is good for your soul.

The tragedy I'm talking about is not like a natural disaster. Its not like an unfathomably sad real life situation such as war, or the failure of the referendum for The Voice to pass in Australia.

I'm talking about Tragedy as a literary and artistic genre.

Simply put, Tragedy as a genre is identified by pathos and passion. And the work must have a narrative structure - a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Pathos being the ability to identify with and pity a person going through hard times.

Passion referring to strong emotion (of any sort).

But how do we find the equivalent of that literary theory in work that's not a typical story? In a song, or in art?

In my opinion, we can see something similar in music if we combine literary theory and art theory. After all, what is a song but a story delivered with emotion through music, and experienced as art is?

There's a school of art theory called Aesthetic Emotionalism.

In a nutshell, this means that the VALUE of the artwork comes from the way it communicates or expresses emotion. Mood, colour, tone, language all contribute to the feelings we get when we experience that work, whether it's looking at a picture or listening to music. They help us pick up on the emotions the artist is conveying.

So what happens when you experience those emotions through art? What is catharsis?

The experience of tragic events in art, whether it's a heart-rending drama, or a beautiful sad song, or a dark and menacing painting, can give you access to emotions like fear, pity, and regret. Feeling those emotions through art lets you purge the heaviness of them from your mind and body, giving you a sense of relief. That's catharsis.

It seems counter-intuitive but ultimately the experience is uplifting. It's like having the benefits of a therapy session, but without having to face YOUR OWN demons.

Becuase of the narrative structure, and the resolution of conflict, there's always relief at the end of the story.

You feel cleansed of those strong emotions, reengergised and ready to go on. But you also feel a sense of calm understanding. The pathos part of the tragedy gives you insight into the suffering of the character in the story.

Think about the narrative structure of the album Face.

The album has a carefully planned narrative, and a sense of rising and falling energy with these songs that's strongly reminiscent of the structure of a Hero's Journey.

And think about the individual songs in terms of Aesthetic Emotionalism too ...how they convey emotions through tone, pace, language, colour etc.

I'm going to go ahead and say that the strength of the Aesthetic Emotionalism in these songs (and in BTS's music in general) is a major reason they have such impact even when you dont understand the lyrics.

Now let's combine them... look at the emotions conveyed in these songs and how the literary theory of a tragedy might apply to the album :

The first song is the slow and devastating Face Off, with its hypnotic rhythm and strange, discomforting sound effects. It reallly does transport us into a dreamlike/nightmare landscape. But the last few words of the song foreshadow that it's gonna be alright.

Then we have the surreal, melancholy Dive, drawing us further into this dystopian world. It also uses sound effects to make us feel like we are being pulled through time. Dive is reminiscent of a soundtrack from a video, but it's been separated from it's film reel, leaving the listener to guess and imagine the scenes unfolding. It feels like jimin has come untethered from his reality.

Like Crazy comes like rising action in a novel, and we get character development, a bit of plot information, and conflict. But the song itself is a viby dance track with a party atmosphere (if you don't look too closely) so we get a reprieve from the darkness of Face Off and Dive. Its hypnotic beat is enough to keep us locked in the surreal dreamlike world that's been built around us by the previous songs, and the lyrics echo that.

Alone takes us back down into the darkness of Jimin's state of mind, both lyrically and with its low tones and slow pace. We get the metronome, the marking of slow time.

Set Me Free has a totally different energy. Jimin's tone of of voice is much brighter, but hard and determined. Set Me Free isnt a request, it's a demand. The music is forceful. It's like a battle march. The story has reached its climax.

Returning to Like Crazy (English version) after Set Me Free, is like returning to a gentle refrain. Its so much softer and more plaintive than the demanding Set Me Free, echoing the earlier melody and words, but it hits sightly different in English. We are into the denouement of this story, the resolution has come.

But it's not the end.

It is not the end, because after a few minutes of silence, time to breathe, we get Letter.

Why is letter here?

Jimin could have released Letter on Weverse or Soundcloud or directly onto Spotify. But he chose to include it at the end of the album.

I feel this is so important, because the specific set of circumstances of this album means this Tragedy we've just experienced isn't entirely consistent with the literary genre.

FACE ticks all the boxes for a Tragedy in the literary sense, it has pathos and passion and narrative structure. If you were a casual listener and you got to the end of the album you would have a sense of catharsis, as intended. But there's a complication.

ARMY aren't casual listeners.

This is personal.

We know Park Jimin, the real person.

We know this isn't fiction. This shit is real. It was real for him when he wrote it and it's real for us now.

Achieving catharsis isn't that easy when it's personal. Not when the hurt is real.

That's why he gave us letter.

That's why he gave it ONLY TO US.

Letter is a soft sweet gift, a sentimental dedication full of reminiscences that only ARMY will understand. The melody is gentle, like a lullaby, and Jungkook's backup vocals are enough to make you weep, if you aren't weeping already.

(**I have a theory that jk either didn't know about letter or didn't know Jimin was going to ask him to sing. See this post for why)

Letter does exactly what it's meant to - it fills us with warmth. It makes us overflow with love. It's a soothing balm to heal our hearts.

And its everything we need in order to let go of those heavy feelings of fear and pity, of worry and sadness for Jimin that the album brought to the fore.

Jimin knew we would need more. That's why he he sent us letter, right at the very end.

"I'm sorry. Thank you," It says.

"Don't cry. It's gonna be alright."

[viccharine]

hurry, hurry (you put my head in such a flurry, flurry!)

( prints available [HERE] )

reblogs greatly appreciated!!!

process and commentary under the cut:

ok so w.a.m.s is one of my FAVORITE (if not my favorite) songs off folie à deux and since it was recently folie’s bday (I’m like. two week late but it doesn’t matter) i thought i should do a piece for it!!!!!

about the piece: this piece went thru a LOT of redesigns because I really didn’t have a clear idea of what I wanted it to look like—at first I wanted to have a bit of a retro, 50s diner, mid-century modern look but that kinda all fell apart with the composition I ended up choosing (and yes, i could have changed the composition to make it work but that is seriously overestimating my creative ability tbh). it’s supposed to be like a headshot covering the waitress’ face (haha get it. bcuz w.a.m.s stands for waitress, actress, model, singer. get it) but also I haven’t drawn an actual face in SO LONG so that’s why it. looks like that. originally I wanted to have some sort of receipt or diner menu that had the lyrics to the song but ultimately i couldn’t make that composition work so I scrapped it

speaking of which, the LETTERING FOR THIS DAMN PIECE. oooooh i Talk a lot about having trouble w lettering but this one takes the cake—i could not, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, figure out how I wanted to make this lettering and I’m not 100% sold on it so do me a favor and just tell me it looks good without looking tooooooo closely at it.

while I work in black and white usually, the colors weren’t all that complicated because they are taken from the folie à deux album cover! in case it wasn’t obvious LMFAO

also ended up using a different brush than my other pieces so it looks a bit more polished than the rough, traditional art-looking vibe of my other FOB pieces—I’m not sure which one I like more!! what do u guys think :0?

some process pics (you can kinda tell how much i struggled with the composition and lettering here):

about the song/album: I’m a relatively new fall out boy fan and let me just say. i did not believe that folie was originally so hated because it’s genuinely my fav FOB album. it took a couple of listens to reeeeeaaaaallly get into it but it is such a good album. like omg. THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE U FOLIE!!!!

cork tree, stardust, and folie are all probably my top FOB albums (do NOT ask me to choose between those three. i could never)

i also didn’t really like w.a.m.s at first but the second time I listened to it was like something unlocking in my brain. clouds parted, angels singing, trumpets blasting, the whole thing. ITS SUCH A GOOD SONG it makes me want to scream into a pillow do u guys understand me.

anyway, that’s pretty much all I have to say k thanks byeeeeee (and go stream folie!!!!)

[mindutme]

Sdefa Sdaturday #1

Sdefa is my newest conlang, started in July of last year. Like T’owal, it isn’t intended to be naturalistic, but it takes that lack of naturalism a lot farther! Instead of being a spoken language, it’s a musical one; its twelve phonemes are the twelve notes of the Western chromatic scale. It’s playable on any chromatic instrument, since you never need to play more than one note at a time. That means you can sing it, too!

If you do sing it, then of course the syllables you sing don’t matter—just the pitches. The word “Sdefa” doesn’t actually mean anything in the language; instead, it’s a sort of transliteration of the language’s “actual” name, which is the sequence of notes E♭ D E F A. In German music terminology, the note E♭ is called “Es,” so here that translates to the letter S. The Germans also call B♭ “B” and B “H,” which is how the great composer J. S. Bach was able to compose using his musical signature, B♭ A C B.

Almost every word in Sdefa is a tiny musical reference, four or five notes long. In fact, B♭ A C B is a Sdefa word, meaning “great,” since Bach is one of the greatest composers of all time. Most of the references are fragments of songs, usually bits that have lyrics that match the meaning of the word. Other references are parts of pieces whose titles match the meaning in some way. Some other words are:

⁕ D A F D, meaning “art,” from the beginning of the theme from Bach’s Art of Fugue

⁕ G C E D, meaning “deep,” from the first four notes of the main theme from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

⁕ E D G F, meaning “moon,” from the song שײן װי די לבֿנה/Sheyn vi di Levuna (“Pretty as the Moon”)

The word “Sdefa” itself isn’t a reference, though; it’s just something that sounded nice both as a sequence of notes and as a spoken word.

It’s not just the syllables that don’t matter if you’re singing Sdefa. Rhythm and register are not part of the language, so D A F D would mean “art” regardless of the note values or octave(s) it’s played in. This allows the language to be flexible, giving a Sdefa text better chance of having a musical quality instead of sounding like a string of random notes. However, since there are so few phonemes and everything can be played in multiple ways, it does mean that most things take a surprising number of notes to say, and that can take a long time unless you use a fast tempo!

Next week I’ll get a bit into the grammar of Sdefa, and explain how the music at the top of the post translates (loosely) into “Sdefa Saturday!”

[mrvlbimbo]

hello i'm such a huge fan of your works, you're absolutely one of my favorite writers here (｡・//ε//・｡). my request is : where reader secretly leaves romantic notes/messages at eddie's locker to show him that people like them admires him so much. then eddie caught them in the act of leaving another poem and you can go beyond your imagination after that. thank you so much and i hope you're having an amazing day !!!

Ughhhhhh I love this smmmmmm.

Not rlly any warnings it’s pretty fluffy, one or two mentions of masterbation, cliffhanger (pt 2 maybe)

pt 1/2/3/4

Pt2 here

It started out innocent enough, Eddie finding a heart shaped post it note in his locker with romantic song lyrics scribbled on the back of it.

He had assumed someone left it in the wrong locker, considering his was mostly unmarked and unused.

Then there was another note the next day. A pinkish cream piece of paper, the kind someone would buy at a specialized stationary store. It was tied with a red ribbon and the writing was the same color.

A sweet and only slightly creepy letter written about how pretty he was, stamped with a sparkly pink lipgloss kiss and doused in perfume.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t jerk off to the thought of it later, the sweet floral scent of the paper invading his mind all day and night.

The notes continued, each more personal than the last, always packaged so prettily. But they never gave any sort of clue about who she might be.

After a few weeks he finally came up with a plan. He would leave a letter in his locker for her to find, that way they could communicate.

Snatching a random notebook from one of his classmates, he ripped out a sheet and scrawled a note on it.

Dear secret admirer person,

Uh hi. I don’t know how to write letters. Who are you? Wait no that’s rude, first of all thank you. But I do really want to know who you are because your handwriting is so pretty and your notes are so sweet and I like the way your perfume smells. Ok bye. Do you say bye in letters? Whatever, goodbye anyways. P.S. your notes make me really horny.

He scribbled a messy heart at the bottom and signed the letter with his signature, slipping it into his locker when he left school for the day.

The next day he opened an empty locker, finding no note inside. This trend continued for the next three days, no response to his letter. He feared he had scared his admirer away.

The weekend came and went and when he returned to school that morning he didn’t bother to check his locker. The whole school was ushered into a pep rally before he even had time to bother with it.

The band played an upbeat congratulatory melody as the cheerleading team rushed in. “Give a warm welcome back to our very own Hawkins Cheer team,” someone announced.

They had been gone for the better half of the last week, at some regional competition. Bam lightbulb moment! His admirer was one of the cheerleaders.

And sure enough when he checked his locker later that day there was a brown paper package tied neatly with a red bow. It was addressed with a heart shaped sticker.

For Eddie (open in private)

It was signed with only a heart, much more carefully drawn than the one on his own note.

He didn’t bother to finish the day, leaving school with a hurried excuse so he could open his gift in the privacy of his home.

And it was worth it. Wrapped in the paper, was a small vial of sweet smelling perfume, a cassette tape, and a pair of cute pink panties.

Attached was another note.

For when you’re thinking of me

He had to know who this girl was, it was driving him insane. He figured maybe if he never left his locker he would catch her leaving the note.

Later that week, after his DnD session, he camped out infront of his locker. First he checked for a note to see if she had already struck. The locker was empty.

He waited all night, dozing off at about 3 in the morning.

He ducked behind the corner, watching intently to see who it was. Sure enough it was his girl, she hummed a song he didn’t recognize while she carefully looked around. One hand clutched a note while the other played with a heart locket around her neck.

“It’s you,” he whispered, stepping out from his hiding place.

“Jesus fucking hell-“ she yelped, jumping slightly at the sound of his voice.

“What brings you here so early?” He asked, stepping closer and effectively caging her between him and the lockers.

“I’m always here early. Cheer practice,” she explained, her eyes searching the empty hallway for an escape.

“Good to know.” One of his hands came down to cup her waist, sliding her closer to him. His other hand gripped her chin, tilting her face up to look him in the eyes.

“Yep. Yeah. Good to know,” she agreed, flinching slightly when the first bell rang. People started to filter into the hallways and they broke apart.

“Meet me in the woods behind school during lunch,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her cheek quickly.

“O-ok,” she stammered, but he was long gone, not having bothered to wait and hear her answer.

Taglist here

@angelsarecallin @sebby-staan @niviiera @chaoticgurl @evqans @slut-for-matt-murdock @multihaven @tinyboxxtink @hold-our-destiny @weh-heh-heh @battiebabe216 @captain-satan @avril-reblog-cave @dragon-ash13 @stxvercgersslut  @fangirl199812 @variety-fangirl @buckybeefybarnes @strangerthings64 @baddestbiddiesonly @the-obscurity @racyreverie @ches65 @onxlymnsn @e-girl-on-the-server

(Lmk if u want to be added)

[i-heart-hxh]

Togashi's Letter Part 1 and Killua's Influences

Regarding the contents of the TV program reading Togashi's letter, they were reported on in this article. I haven't seen any extensive translations of it yet (people are working on it I imagine), so here's a Google Translation of it and the results of running it through Deepl. I didn't edit either of these because of the probability better translations are incoming anyway. These translations are certainly not perfect of course, but at least it gives you a good idea of what he said!

Also, contained in this letter there's some fascinating info on some of the influences for Killua's character:

Here's (again, thank you) @yyh4ever's tweet on this:

https://x.com/mori_yyh4ever/status/1724494313558520224?s=20

Here are the translated lyrics of the song that was referenced (Shounen by Kuroyume), and here's the song itself.

Here's the first volume of To-y, though it doesn't seem any more of the manga has been translated into English (there's also an anime, but it's old/fairly obscure as well).

MPD Psycho is actually a fairly well-known manga, it's not difficult to find info on it or places to read it!

Anyway, I'll post if I find better translations, and let's also look forward to next week, when we'll get some sort of info about the ending of the series!

[silent-dark-entries]

Something I’m in the middle of writing !!!

Word Count: 1175!!

Warnings: Still proofreading so maybe some mistakes! Also my first Wizarding world fic so its probably not accurate ._. This also will be a smut but I’m just plot building :))

Oh!!! And seizure warning!!

Birdie looks herself in the mirror for the fourth time. Was her dress too short, too tight? She can't breathe, so she loosens her ribbons...for the third time. Maybe a muggle designer wasn't the brightest idea, but it's too late. Birdie can feel her friends, Nerissa and Imogene, growing impatient waiting outside in the Slytherin common room. They never have troubles getting dressed for these types of things. They're the exact same body type, if it looks good on one of them it'll surely look good on the other.

Birdie looks one more time. A green plaid slip dress, and shiny Mary Jane platforms  Final decision.

Birdie takes a swig of the smuggled in firewhisky as her and her fellow Slytherins make their way to the Gryffindor common room. The burn is dreadful but nostalgic nonetheless.

Birdie listens to her friend's talk but doesn't give them a second thought. She feels guilty of course. She had ignored their letters all summer holiday scared they would've known what she was up to. Scared they knew what her Mother had done. She didn't even sit with them during the sorting ceremony. In fact, she hid in the toilets when the food had come out. But they found her and cornered her asking if they had done something wrong. She denied it and just blamed it on an upset tummy.

Someone in the front of the line of students does the secret knock making the fat lady creek open. The students move through the silenced, glowing green, stone tunnel into the common room full of students. Birdie takes another swig of the fire whiskey before it's swiped by Imogene.

"Pace yourself Birdie." Nerissa says as they find their designated corner to stand in. Imogene throws her sandy Blonde hair behind her tiny shoulders before taking a hefty sip. She screws her face as the burn leaves her throat.

"Fuck's sake Birdie! They weren't kidding when they named this shit." Imogene rasps out. The three girls laugh before taking more tiny sips each.

Birdie floats towards the dance crowd as muggle hip hop blares through the speakers, her friends following closely behind her. Birdie throws her arms up along with the firewhiskey as she yells along to the lyrics of Rump Shaker. Birdie shakes her ass to the beat and occasionally drops to the floor as she's sandwiched between the two girls.

The crowd cheers as the song ends. Birdie opens her eyes that she hadn't realized were shut tight. The room spins beneath her feet as she makes her way towards a group of people sitting on the floor in a circle.

"What is this? huh, some kind of prayer circle?" Birdie snorts out. Birdie hates being seen as a mean girl but it's what people expect from her.

"It's kiss or drink." A gravelly voice from below her says. Birdie looks down at the familiar voice that she usually has great talent in ignoring to see none other than Fred Weasley staring back at her. He smiles up at her before blowing out the smoke from the joint he held between his lips. "We'd ask you to join us, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to tarnish that niminy-piminy attitude you keep up."

Birdie's jaw dropped. Her first thought is to take her bottle she has clenched in her hand and smash it against his head. But instead she sits where she stood inbetween Fred and some nobody sixth year. She keeps her eyes straight ahead ignoring the stares coming from the rest of the group.

Hannah Abbot, a geeky blonde girl leans forward and spins the green translucent bottle that sits in the middle of the circle. The groups hoops and howls as it lands on Neville Longbottom. Hannah giggles as she crawls across the circle closer to Neville before feverishly locking lips with him. Birdie bites her tongue trying desperately not to gag at the sight of the spit string between them as they part. Neville spins the bottle awkwardly fast.

Birdie takes the last swig of her fire whiskey instantly regretting it for it finally sent her over the tipsy versus drunk threshold. She wipes the dribble from her mouth before putting the bottle down between her thighs. She looks at the bottle in the middle to see who it landed on and it's of course her. Birdie looks up to see Neville moving towards her slowly.

"Take the drink Longbottom." Birdie says through her teeth. Neville nods defeatedly before throwing a shot from the bottle back. Birdie rolls her eyes before clumsily leaning in to spin the bottle. She looks around the circle to see if there's anyone worthy enough to kiss but sees no one she actually cares to kiss. Which works out for her for the bottle lands on herself.

"Well I can't kiss myself." Birdie picks up her shot.

"It's on Freddie." George cheekily says. "You have to kiss Freddie!" Birdie looks back down at the bottle. Certainly it's slightly pointed to the left, straight at Fred.

"Just let her take the shot! I told you she's too priggish to kiss anyone here." Fred sneers. Birdie slams her shot glass down and gets on her knees. She throws her arm around Fred's neck and the other hand on his cheek. Pushing him closer to her face until their lips finally meet. Soft and innocent first until Fred dips deeper snaking his arm around her body pulling her closer and slipping his tongue against hers.

Birdie breaks first scooting back on her knees leaving Fred's body cold next to her. She takes the joint from his hand whilst standing and stumbling away to find her friends, leaving the the small circle speechless

"Well" George says breaking the silence. "I don't know how we could continue after that."

Birdie finds her friends in the corner with their arms crossed staring back at her. She takes a hit of the joint and offers it to her friends in which they partake.

"What the hell was that shit, Missulena?" Nerissa says blowing the smoke into the air.

"It was hot!" Imogene says. Birdie shrugs lazily.

"She's pissed. We should get back to the dorms before she gets sick." Nerissa says gesturing them towards the door.

Birdie follows behind her friends before feeling a sharp pain it the middle of her forehead. She shakes off the pain before searching for her friends in the crowd. Birdie stumbles forward but before she could catch her balance she feels her legs give out beneath her making her fall straight on her back. Her arms become stiff against the sides of her sides as her back arch towards the ceiling. Birdie's eyes rolls eerily to the back of her head as her gaped mouth lets out a ghostly howl.

Nerissa and Imogene push pass through the crowd surrounding as Birdie's body rattles violently against the old rug beneath her body. Birdie looks up at her friends through her tear filled eyes. Until her eyes finally closed.

[locustonlioden-blog]

Hm, did Alastor actually DIE 7 years ago...if a selfless way for his friends, perhaps, and end up going to Heaven? Where he met someone who also just happened to arrive there...he is salty about something, he wants back in Hell...so he makes a deal? Was that friend Vox...who ended up betraying him? Listening to the lyrics of his song...is he reminiscing? He says "Alastor Altruist DIED for his friends" Sure it could be just him "reading a headline" so to speak-but it could also be something that already happened. Interesting he says died not dies. The imagery is also a bit interesting here, when hes talking about death in the air-feels a bit stretchy, but does that look like a broken tv with the radio part sticking out? And interesting letters to be lit-the N, which looks like an A and a V-then a minus sign?

Is he frightened hes being played with, made to repeat the same torment that put him in his situation in the first place? Being yanked around for anothers amusement would surely be the worst sort of Hell for Alastor, and it makes him desperate to be the one in the position to hold the strings and do the yanking. It would make sense for someone like him to project this sort of motivation to his contractor.

[luvistqrzzz]

THE ACCIDENTAL POLAROID- 21- FINALE::: it's like a polaroid love ( written::: 0.5K )

'Where are you taking me, Chae?!' You screamed blindfolded as you felt your three friends around you, leading you out of Hueningkai's broken car.

'Ssh! It's a surprise', she replied, taking your hand and pulling you into a room. 'I swear to God if you're kidna-' your voice died down as Sunoo removed the blindfold and you were met with the somewhat familiar surroundings of... Hungry Jungle diner.

You stood there, frozen in your spot and feeling tensed because you knew who'd be there. The guy you'd met (? sort of ) in this place. The exact one standing on the small stage staring into your eyes.

The silence was broken by Chaewon gently tugging at your hand and leading you to an empty table. You quickly looked away from him, embarrassed. Who thought it'll be a good idea to bring you here? You could almost kill your friends if only you didn't love them so much.

Heeseung cleared his throat, catching your attention, 'The last song for today is my uh own song and it's written for a special someone. I hope yall enjoy it.'

A soft melody filled the place as he started singing but his eyes were on you.

Why am I relying on to love?

It's obvious feeling anyway

I believed I would know everything

I guess it as trap that I fell for even I knew it

You couldn't help but blush at his voice and the sweet lyrics. Maybe giving the letter wasn't that bad of an idea. Even if the room was filled with people, for you, the chatter died down almost like you and Heeseung were the only ones.

It's like a polaroid love

It's not going my way

I don't even have any trendy filter

But I love that vibe

He finished it, a small hopeful smile on his face. Heeseung muttered a small thank you and bowed before leaving the stage.

Alarmed, you quickly got up, following him as he walked towards through the back door. 'Yah Lee Heeseung!'

He stopped in his tracks. This wasn't part of the plan. He had planned to properly confess to you after the night ended, not like this. 'You can't just walk away after singing that song and making me go crazy.'

He turned around to face you but before he could say anything, you ran up to him, pulling him into a kiss. His eyes widened but he slowly melted into it, pulling you closer by the waist.

You didn't even know what had gotten into you but there you were kissing him out of the blue, a thousand butterflies going wild in your stomach.

'I'm sorr-' '- sorry.' You both burst out into laughter, faces still close to each other. Heeseung caressed your cheek. 'Soooo, what do you say, girlfriend, let's get out of here', he suggested.

You playfully shoved him, 'Who said I was your girlfriend, polaroid boy?!'

Prev | Masterlist

SUMMARY- Lee Heeseung doesn't believe in love at first sight but what happens when he accidentally clicks a polaroid of a girl at the local diner? A girl he can't seem to get out of his mind.

Will he be able to return you the polaroid or will love follow him along the way?

GENRE- smau with written parts, college!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, crack, angst (veryyy slight), slight love triangle

TAGLIST- open! send an ask or comment to be added- @yenqa @xuimhao @ddazed-lhs @astrae4 @ghostiiess @seungminstaehyun @haechansbbg @chaechae-23 @ak-aaa-li @whippedforbeomgyu @ahnneyong @ineedaherosavemeenow @jhopesucker @j-wyoung @tnyhees @liliansun @rikizm @jadeluvsenha

(Bold=cannot tag)

AN- ANDDDD THATS A WRAP!! Omg i cant believe that its finally over my first finished smau😭😭😭 i cannot gurantee a bonus chapter but imma try TT!! Tysm to alll who supported this smau ily ily your comments and feedbacks really made my day <33 this was such a silly idea but it turned out fun i hope yall enjoyed it too🤧🫶! See yall in love theory iggg ;))

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Hello Fiona! What is your opinion on In My Life being about Paul?

Hi anon!

I'm like a semi-contrarian about this, but also Not Really.

What we know about In My Life is that John both described it as a really personal song and also didn't really elaborate on what the lyrics meant, electing instead to provide the backstory. It could mean he was being specifically cagey about the song's subject but I also get the feeling he was just a bit pissed the entire time he was doing his song rundown for Playboy 1980 lol – which is understandable IMO; he probably would have preferred to talk more about his newer music than going over songs from 15 years ago again.

Now, given the timeline of when the song was written, I've always seen three possible candidates for who it's about: Paul, Cynthia, and my personal pet theory: Julian.

At this point, I do kind of think Paul is the most likely subject of the song, though I'm not sure that's entirely rational on my part. Partly it's the I Know (I Know) lyrical connection (a song I am pretty much 100% on the Paul train for); partly it would make sense that, if Stu and Pete are also being referenced in the song, it would be natural for John to draw a comparison between them and Paul, his current best friend. A thing I find interesting in this context (and the Julian context) is that the song isn't necessarily speaking to a romantic love interest. It certainly could be (and I do tend to think John came to think of Paul that way at some point if not necessarily by 1965 already) but it also might not. Especially when you consider the "acid mindset", which John was getting acquainted with at the time: romanticizing your friendship with your artistic partner could slot into that perfectly, without any of it necessarily being sexually-tinged (or without one having to admit to oneself that it is sexually-tinged).

As for Cynthia, it's absolutely fascinating to me (in a bad way) that she is not commonly held to be the subject of the song. In My Life is a love song, but scholarship seems to stop listening after the first minute. I don't think this is because the song intrinsically can't be about her, I think this just speaks to how egregiously the JohnandYoko narrative (or even the JohnandPaul narrative, in these circles) dominates discussions. It would certainly make sense for John not to want to admit this song might've been for the wife he mistreated by 1980. This emotional letter John wrote Cyn is from just around the time the song was written, meaning it wouldn't be unthinkable for him to in a sense "renew his vows to her" in form of this song.

Which brings me to the Julian theory, that sort of combines all the points I made above. On the one hand, the song isn't explicitly romantic, and I think the line "When I think of love as something new" makes a lot of sense referring to parenthood. Plus, "But of all these friends and lovers" could also suggest that the you is neither a friend, nor a lover. And the letter I linked above is actually mostly about John feeling regretful about how he's not been around for Julian. "I think it’s been a slow process my feeling like a real father!" he writes, more than 2 years after his son was born, which IMO would make sense of this song coming so "late", if it were for Julian. And again I imagine John would not cop to it in 1980, as he wouldn't for Cyn or Paul.

On the whole, I think I find Paul slightly more likely, but to be honest, that might just be bias on my part, so I don't commit to it fully, and I think the other readings are very interesting at least. In My Life as a song from a parent to a child is wonderful!