#the music metaphor may have run away with me

[cornyflow3r]

in episode three of genloss, retrospectively it’s really clear that the show continues even as ranboo was released into the mall. even hetch suggests so by saying ranboo won’t be attacked by the showfall employees because he’s programmed them to consider him ‘part of the show’ - a show that’s ongoing.

one way in which this bridging of performance and reality is really cleverly shown is through the music. up until now, it’s safe to assume the soundtrack was non-diegetic meaning the characters couldn’t hear it. contrastingly, in the mall the music sounds like it’s being played over speakers like elevator music and so ranboo can probably hear it: the soundtrack becomes diegetic. this both implies ranboo is becoming more aware of their role in showfall’s media and that this media is not finished with them - the show must go on. it’s a really good and chilling way of portraying his state of semi-awareness. even as he walks around, ostensibly free, and sees the sets and props, the buzzing background music pervades the whole mall and turns it into a new stage.

they only truly break free when they break from the script - from the ‘expected’ behaviour that hetch promised would keep them safe from the security. this might just be a quirk of the sound design but the music even cuts out for a few seconds after ranboo makes his choice with the codes. like an immune system, the mall then begins to treat him as a foreign body which only highlights how assimilated he was before when he was doing what hetch told him and sticking to his role.

unfortunately, in the grand scheme of things, this only buys ranboo time. hetch swoops back into the part of mentor and ranboo buys into the fantasy again, following his ‘instruction’ and becoming his puppet once more. charlie tries to warn them ‘are you even you right now, is this what you want?’ but they don’t listen, they can barely hear him over the music, which is non-diegetic again - we’re fully immersed back into the performance. the grand crescendo of the button press, in which another person must be sacrificed, is the same song and dance ranboo has been following the entire time. 

this fact becomes painfully clear when the real finale occurs and hetch essentially asks the audience if they want an encore.

[pickledpascal]

Staring Into the Blue

Pairing: Beau Arlen and Surrogate Daughter OC (Andi)

Warnings: self-worth issues, emotional hurt/comfort, andi has daddy issues and is hating life a little

A/N: i made this when i was half delirious/asleep and started thinking of my own relationship with my parents sooooo yeah... have fun with this one lol

Word Count: 2.2k

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Beau was new to this whole thing. As was Andi.

Andi was a nineteen-year-old girl who, for all intents and purposes, was Beau’s surrogate daughter. Emily still had a place in his heart, and always would, but Andi was… a special case. 

They had met when she was eighteen, freshly in college, and had one too many drinks one night which landed her in detainment, and ultimately had a talk with the sheriff. Being intoxicated, Beau’s initial rant about her needing to take better care of herself and how underage drinking was bad was undermined by Andi spilling her guts to him. Metaphorically speaking.

Andi didn't have parents. At least, not ones who cared about her all that much. As soon as she turned eighteen, they promptly threw her out of the house. Sure they had helped her get into college but they didn't care what happened after. Glad to get her out. 

So Beau took her in. Gave her a home. Loved her.

It was all so much for Andi. And made her think about her real parents. How happy they were without her. How happy they were not acknowledging they kicked their child out of their house to fend for herself just to be picked up and loved by a stranger. Beau didn't know her parents—he wasn't her honorary uncle or even a real uncle. He was the sheriff of Helena and a pretty good one at that. 

It took a while but Beau convinced Andi to live with him instead of the housing on campus. A month or so into Andi’s hopefully permanent stay at Beau’s house—he upgraded from the airstream but it was parked in his yard—it was nearly midnight when he woke up to soft music filtering into his room. Beau ran a hand through his hair and screwed his eyes shut for a moment before he sat up. That had to be Andi. And he felt compelled to check in on her.

Beau left his room and made his way to Andi’s, the music getting louder with each step he took. Which made him more and more concerned. 

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Just outside her door, Beau heard the faint noise of sniffling. Andi had been crying. His heart sunk in his chest. He knocked on the door. No answer. Beau pursed his lips as he turned the door handle. The sight behind it made his heart ache. 

Under the low light of Andi’s blue fairy lights was her, sobbing on the floor as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her glasses were abandoned on her bed with teardrop marks on the lenses. 

I see the great escape

So long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

Beau rushed to be by her side, cradling her head as it lay on his chest. He set his chin on top of her head, rubbing her shoulder to try and soothe her. It seemed the tears rushed faster as he did. “I gotcha, I gotcha. It's okay.” He shushed softly. 

Andi clung onto Beau like a lifeline, crying into his chest and getting tears on his shirt. He didn't care. He wanted Andi to be okay. And if that meant he had to hold onto her like this then he didn't care. 

He petted her hair and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “It's alright. I'm here.” Beau resisted the urge to cry too. He had never seen Andi like this before, even when they met. “Please tell me what's wrong.” Beau insisted softly, pulling Andi away from him for a moment. Her skin felt cold. He didn't like this. 

Andi sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I…” She wanted to. She really did, but it was hard. 

“You know me, sweetheart, I'm not gonna judge. Okay?” Beau cupped Andi’s cheek. He could sense she was hesitant. Their relationship was fresh but Andi trusted him enough with other stuff. Enough to live with him. 

A new wave of tears rolled down Andi’s cheeks. “I know.” Her voice was small. Her eyes screwed shut as a sad smile crossed her face. “God, I wish my real parents were like you.” She admitted with a harbored breath. “My dad especially. I-I don't understand what I did wrong. What I did to deserve what they did to me. Was I not enough? Was it because I was a girl? He and my brothers were fine. He-He never–” A choked sob escaped her. 

Beau frowned, pulling her back into his chest. He closed his eyes as he drew in a deep breath. 

“He never told me loved me.” Andi cried into his chest, voice muffled. “Never told me he was proud of me. I-I don't understand. He's my dad, i-isn’t he supposed to love me? That's his job.” 

Beau felt a few tears stinging his eyes as well. He couldn't imagine being that type of person. That type of father. He loved Emily so much it hurt sometimes. Andi too. To be the type of father to, quite frankly, never pay attention to his child was an alien concept to him. One that was very much real. And one that saddened Beau. 

He squeezed Andi tighter and pulled her into his lap. She was heavier than what he was used to but it didn't matter. What mattered was comforting her as much as possible. He didn't know if he could ever change her mind about her self-worth, at least, not in the moment. But this kind of touch would help. He hoped it would. 

After a while, Andi’s tears died down and Beau brushed away the hairs from her face. He even wiped some tears away. “I know I can't… just replace your dad, as unfortunate as that sounds. You had eighteen years with him. That won't just disappear. But I can try to help ease some of that pain, show you what a real parent should be like.” Beau whispered softly. “I love you as I would my own daughter. I'll be so proud of you at your concert next week, I'll clap and cheer so loud they might have to kick me out. I love you.”

Andi sniffled. The words meant so much to her and she knew Beau was telling the truth. He had a record to back it up. He never missed one of her recitals, a soccer game she had, or an event she really wanted to go to. 

Before she ever moved in, Beau was Andi’s plus one to a lot of things. A chaperone in some sense but Beau just loved seeing her smile. They went to a few markets around the city with her college friends, saw quite a few movies in his airstream, and—at the end of the day—he would always give her a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

“I love you too.” Andi breathed. It was the first time she'd said it back.

Beau had a habit of slipping it behind a sentence or saying it when they said goodbye. Andi didn't mind. She liked hearing it. But she had never said it back or even said it first. Beau was okay with that. He wanted to earn it. 

And he did. 

It was bittersweet, though. He was glad but his heart still ached. All he wanted was to take all that hurt from Andi and throw it in a locked box somewhere. Maybe throw that into the depths of the ocean. But he couldn’t. And it pained him that he couldn't. Andi didn't deserve those sorry excuses of parents. And maybe she didn't deserve Beau either but he was going to try. 

Beau hugged her close, closing his eyes as he rocked her side to side. Andi wrapped her arms around Beau’s torso. Her breathing calmed as she nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck. 

It was silent for a while, her music had died down a while ago into a soft instrumental. “Sweetheart?” Beau asked softly. He had a small, but hopefully effective, idea 

“Hm?” Andi hummed. She felt a little better hence the crying stopped but there was still an emptiness in her chest.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Beau knew it was a tactic mostly used for little kids. Where if he could squeeze her tight enough that would make everything better. But Andi was legally an adult so he wasn't completely sure.

Andi bit the inside of her lip and drew in a small breath. Her parents didn't do this when she was sad. Hell, her parents barely even noticed when she was sad. She simply nodded.

Beau lifted the covers over Andi before he got in bed next to her. She held onto Beau. He quickly did the same. 

Andi was an adult. But not really. She was a child who had never felt like she had any real comfort in her life until Beau came along. Andi wasn't even sure she could pinpoint a time she was genuinely happy in a while. Physical comfort didn't fix everything but it sure helped a lot. She didn't get that much as a child but she did now.

Beau was so affectionate that it almost made Andi cry. Small things like a touch on her shoulder as he left or a kiss on her forehead. Hell, a simple thumbs-up while she was on stage made Andi feel so warm. And so loved.

That was part of the reason this whole mess started in the first place. Andi loved Beau and wouldn't trade him for the world but a part of her wondered why her father couldn't be like him so she didn't need to have Beau in the first place. Why couldn't he be the type of father that supported his child? Who made it known that he was proud of her every day even if it could be a little embarrassing? Who hugged her every single time they met after they were apart? 

Beau rubbed Andi’s back, playing with her hair. He found that it calmed her after a while. “I can stay home tomorrow. We can watch Book of Life, make fresh brownies, and have ‘em with ice cream.” He suggested softly. 

Book of Life was her favorite movie. And warm brownies with vanilla ice cream was one of her comfort foods. She didn't eat it often. 

“Okay,” Andi mumbled, a soft smile making its way onto her lips. “I would be a sorry excuse for an older sister.” 

Beau’s eyebrows furrowed. “What makes you say that?” 

Emily and Andi knew of each other but they hadn't quite met yet since Emily still lived with Carla in Texas and she hadn't made her way up to Montana to see her father in a while. He knew adoption was off the table but he was as close to a father as Andi could have, ultimately making her family. And making her and Emily sisters. 

Andi shook her head. “Forget I said that.” Beau pursed his lips, glancing down at her. She let out a breath through her nose. “I just… I'm the youngest in my family anyway and—I dunno—I don't feel right. I guess. I'm not a role model. I'm not–”

“I think you are.” Beau cut in. He hated when Andi talked bad about herself which unfortunately happened a lot. “You have your hands in a lot of different clubs, you excel in your classes, and you fight for what's right.” Beau hugged Andi close. “We can work on it feeling right but… You're a far better role model than me.”

Andi scoffed. Beau may not have been open about everything that happened in his life but, for a middle-aged man, it was far better than any other man Andi had ever encountered before. He was affectionate with just about everyone in his life, co-workers, friends, Andi’s friends, Carla, and Emily. Maybe Beau wasn't perfect but he was already doing better than Andi’s father. 

Beau thought Andi drifted off to sleep until she said, “I'm glad you're in my life.” He could tell she was trying to starve off sleep by the sound of her voice. 

“Me too.” Beau admitted softly, an absentminded smile on his face. 

Beau thought Emily was the limit to his love. But then Andi came along and suddenly there was more love to give. There was no rationing of his heart, it only grew. And he couldn't fathom it for a while. Andi wasn't his child, not biologically, but he loved her as if she was. 

With Emily away, it was hard for Beau to function properly. That was his daughter and she was hours and hours away. Of course, it still was but it was a little easier with Andi. He thought the world of her and couldn't comprehend how she didn't think the same. 

If Beau ever did meet Andi's parents, he couldn't imagine it'd go well. He'd likely end up in a detainment cell while Andi's father ended up in the ICU.

[dustedmagazine]

Slept Ons: 2023

Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter

If you write for Dusted, you listen to music all the time and you try, at least within your general area of interest, to stay current with what’s current. Ask any of our significant others, and they’ll say we listen to too much music, to which we inevitably reply “What’s that, this ‘too much’ you speak of?” We listen to music while we’re eating, while we’re working, while we’re exercising, while we’re driving from one place to another, even while we’re brushing our teeth sometimes; though, admittedly, the sound quality is not that great in the bathroom.

Even so, we miss things. Here, in what has become an annual tradition, we revisit some of the albums that slipped away in one fashion or another, the ones that we kept putting off until it was too late, the ones we somehow didn’t catch wind of until well into January, the ones we discovered tardily on other people’s lists and year-end podcasts and radio shows. So here are our late finds, a favorite or two each that we never got the chance to write about. Fortunately, unlike bread and fresh fruit and bunches of cilantro, albums don’t go bad if you let them sit for a while.

Die Enttäuschung und Alexander Von Schlippenbach — Monk’s Casino Live At Au Topsi Pohl (Two Nineteen)

This record wasn’t so much slept on as patiently sleuthed. Die Enttäuschung, the long-running German quartet (their name translates as The Disappointment, an appellation that says more about their sense of humor than the quality of their ever-buoyant reimagining of bebop and early free jazz) started selling it at gigs in the spring of 2023. I bided my time, and when I made it to Berlin last fall, scoring a copy was on my agenda. To this day, the record and the internet are near strangers; while you can buy it from Bandcamp, there’s no download, streaming or videos. So, you’ll have to just take it from me that Die Enttäuschung’s reunion with now-octogenarian pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach will take wrinkles off your brow. The first time that these musicians recorded together as Monk’s Casino, back in 2005, they performed every one of Thelonious Monk’s compositions over three CDs; pith was essential. The repertoire hasn’t changed this time, but the approach is looser. Crammed into the intimate confines of the now-shuttered Au Topsi Pohl just as Omicron started ruining parties, the five musicians goose the tempos, spike the solos with impertinence, and veer around Monk’s sharp angles with a combination of intimate familiarity and belt-busting abandon.

Bill Meyer

Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter — SAVED! (Perpetual Flame Ministries)

Not slept on so much as avoided— and why, at this point I am not entirely sure. When I saw Kristin Hayter perform under her previous Lingua Ignota moniker back in December of 2022, she opened with a set of devotional songs on piano, a variety of metallic objects set and chains draped across the instrument’s interior string works. It was extraordinary, and SAVED! features the same basic set of raw, austere elements: that prepared piano, Hayter’s remarkable voice and the problematics of faith. The avoidance may stem from my own fraught relations to the sort of grim Protestantism Hayter reimagines; I spend some time around fire-and-brimstone Baptism as a child, and it left a mark on me. She wove some of that language and those textures into the excellent Lingua Ignota record Sinner Get Ready, but there they were much more symbolic, and largely couched in specific fundamentalisms (Amish and Mennonite) that distanced them somewhat. The sounds and spiritual gestures on SAVED! are a good deal more familiar to me, and they haunt. Likely the haunting is the point. Certainly “All of My Friends Are Going to Hell” and “I Know His Blood Can Make Me Whole” smolder and then burn with varieties of hellfire I have smelled before. One can also hear those songs more metaphorically, and “I Will Be with You Always” (the best thing on the record) is replete with images and intensities that call to multiple levels of meaning, simultaneously and sublimely. SAVED! is a hard record for me to listen to, and that’s why I have come, somewhat belatedly, to prize it so highly.

Jonathan Shaw

Illusion of Safety — Pastoral (Korm Plastics)

Daniel Burke has been carefully and consistently nurturing his Illusion of Safety project for 40 years, and I’ve been embarrassingly ignorant of the output until now. Burke released multiple audio artifacts in 2023, including a 40th anniversary ten-cassette box set, so choosing a single album to write about for the Slept On column was a daunting undertaking. Pastoral is unique in that it shows off a more delicate and expansive side of the Illusion of Safety oeuvre. It’s also one of the few music-focused objects that the stalwart Korm Plastics label has released in years; the imprint focuses on the written word these days. Sonically, Burke has established a series of vignettes that follow a similar pattern. The music flows from short, sharp attacks into lengthy sustained quietude. Burke unleashes his jarring, frantic salvos both percussively and synthetically, and these brief but unsettling periods morph into slowly churning drone swarms. Given that this is just one example of Burke’s sonic vernacular, I’m excited to hear more. Thankfully, when it comes to Illusion of Safety, I’ve been a veritable Rip Van Winkle.

Bryon Hayes

Malla — Fresko (Solina)

So slept on was Malla Malmivaara’s second solo album that even the normally reliable Beehype missed it, but even if you did happen to notice its inclusion on my midyear list, overstating how well-crafted and immersive Fresko’s dance-pop tracks are is hard to do. It makes sense given she’s better known for her acting career, but Malla’s been in the Finnish music game for a long time, too — first in the short-lived mid-aughts house trio Elisabeth Underground, then as herself with 2019’s “Sabrina” single (which got a Jori Hulkkonen remix, a guy who once redid M83) that ended up paving the way for her self-titled 2021 debut full-length. Despite using similar synth arpeggios and a healthy dose of vocal reverb as she did on Malla, Fresko is a little bit darker, moodier, more down in it. Lead single “Moi” (“hi” in English) tells the tale, its perfectly crafted video full of young Rolf Ekroth models doing things like looking impossibly cool in ridiculous outfits and having fashion shows with ATVs in snowy back alley Helsinki parking lots are a perfect marriage of audio and video, images and a melody burned in my brain the moment I saw it. It is very much a dance record flush with tech-house tweaks and no grander artistic ambitions, but Malla’s barely crested 40; now that she’s pledged more time to her music career, it’s entirely possible Fresko is but a warmup for something bolder — and even if it’s not, you could do much worse than a third album full of body movers like this. Hi is right.

Patrick Masterson

Kevin Richard Martin – Black (Intercranial)

Ostensibly a eulogy to Amy Winehouse, Kevin Richard Martin’s Black is a deeply humane expression of isolation, loss and grief. Built from the ground up, the bass deep and warm, swathes of glacial arpeggiated synths and beats that hint at the club. Notes echo and ripple away to create silhouettes of solitude, a tangible manifestation of absence. Despite the deep weight of his music, Martin imbues Black with an incredible delicacy. His abstract architecture allows the mind to roam and the listener to connect with emotional truths. It’s the balance Martin finds between the particular and universal that gives Black it’s power. In the strutting bassline of “Camden Crawling” smeared with narco/alcoholic fuzz, the looming threat of “Blake’s Shadow” and the bleary saxophone in “Belgrade Meltdown” there are the faintest echoes of Winehouse’s sound which emerge from the depths of Martin’s echo chambers. A work of terrible sadness, great beauty, empathy and comfort.

Andrew Forell

Derek Monypeny — Cibola (2182 Recording Company)

Cibola eased into the world as 2022 turned into 2023, but it took me nearly a year to get to it. Monypeny is a confirmed westerner, having lived in Arizona, Oregon, and (currently) the California desert, and an awareness of both the wrongfulness and the good fortune of living in that neck of the woods infuses Cibola, which is named for one of the American southwest’s legendary cities of gold (helpful hint; if you ever encounter a conquistador looking for gold, tell them it’s somewhere else). Monypeny alternates between guitar, shahi baaja, and on electric autoharp the LP’s seven tracks, and Kevin Corcoran contributes time-stopping metal percussion to one of them. The music likewise toggles between stark evocations of space and swirling submersions into nether states. In either mode, Monypeny effectively suggests the gorgeous immensity and pitiless history of the land around him.

Bill Meyer

The Sundae Painters — S-T (Flying Nun)

One minute, The Sundae Painters are churning wild screes of noisy guitar, the next they construct airy psychedelic pop songs of a rare unstudied grace. The band is a super group of sorts — Paul Kean and Kaye Woodward of the Bats, Alex Bathgate of the Tall Dwarfs and the late Hamish Kilgour of the Clean — convening in loose-limbed, joyful mayhem in songs that glisten and shimmer and roar. “Hollow Way” roils thick, muddy textures of drone up from the bottom, the slippery bent notes of sitar (that’s Bathgate) and Woodward’s diaphanous vocals floating free of a visceral murk. “Aversion” lets unhinged guitar shards fly over the thump of grounding drums as Kilgour chants inscrutable poetry. The two HAP tracks, I and II, stretch out in locked-in, psychotropic grooves, relentless forward motion somehow dissolving into an endless ecstatic now. This full-length, sadly the only one we’ll ever have from the Sundae Painters now that Kilgour is gone, is as good as anything that its esteemed participants ever did in their more famous bands, and that’s saying a lot.

Jennifer Kelly

U SCO — Catchin’ Heat (Self Released)

Here’s the extent of what I currently know: Someone I have on Facebook posted a link to it as one of his favorite records of the year, and someone I don’t know responded that they bought a copy of the cassette before the first track even finished. U SCO are Jon Scheid (bass), Ryan Miller (guitar), and Phil Cleary (Drums) and they are from and/or based in Portland Oregon. According to Discogs and Bandcamp Catchin’ Heat is the first thing they’ve released since 2016. That’s it! I started listened to this with the same box-checking, due diligence energy I tend to have for the dozen or so records I hear about one way or another after I’ve already done my year-end writing; most of them, every year, I don’t even make it through one play (the fatigue has fully set in by this point in the process). But sure enough before the end of that first track, I knew this was going to have to be the record I slept on. It’s perfectly structured, with extra-long, absolute blowouts beginning and ending the record, the second and second-last tracks being the two shortest and the only moments of relative calm, and the middle two making up a strong core that both brings in some elements not found elsewhere on Catchin’ Heat (the vocals on “trrrem”) and is just the most straightforward version of the absolute burners U SCO can clearly summon up on command (“woe dimension”). As great and arresting as that opening track is, though, the closing “abyssal hymn” might be the real highlight here, bringing in clarinet and saxophone to add a whole new layer of skronk to what they’re cooking. I’ve listened to this record about 10 times in a couple of days, and they deserve to sell out of that run of cassettes.

Ian Mathers

[house-of-stone-at-sunrise]

Fortnight - post mortem

"Fortnight"

(feat. Post Malone)

"I was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me

I was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic

All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason

And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?"

To be sent away is to be committed to the psych ward, or sent to jail. From the music video (MV) it seems that in this case it's a reference to an involuntary stay in the psych ward - she's chained up in a bed being made to take pills, however, asylums and prisons are a theme throughout the album as a whole.

In the opening scenes of the video she is dressed up to look like 1920s movie starlet Clara Bow (who is referenced directly as a song title later on the album.) Her hair is pinned up with an extreme number of upside down bobby-pins which on the right side of her head make the roman numeral for 13, and she is wearing a wedding gown.

Clara Bow is known to have engaged in lavender marriages while having secret affairs with women during her stardom. "dropping hairpins" is a piece of historical queer slang, meaning dropping hints that one is queer, and the inverse, having your hair pinned up means that you're pretending to be straight. Hair pins reference back to the lyrics of Right Where You Left Me "Dust collected on my pinned-up hair." I read this scene as "maximum closeting," by force.

The entire room is shown to be upside down and at an angle which reminds me of the classic Emily Dickinson poem "tell all the truth but tell it slant" Given Emily is a favorite poet of TS the Dickinson reference is likely intentional and it's fair to assume that there are red herrings and metaphors in abundance throughout this song and this album. Remember the 'redherring' error code on the website pre-release.

This song and video also reference A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, which tells the story of a person released from prison who has mental health issues due to being tortured during their prison stay, who is then taken by their family from Paris(!) to London (!!) Book 2 of A Tale of Two Cities is titled "The Golden Thread" which reminds me of Invisible String "one single thread of gold tied me to you," and in the second book we're told the tale of how the golden haired daughter provides financially for her family in addition to repairing and maintaining their good reputation. A Tale of Two Cities feels oh so very appropriate as a touchstone for listening to this album.

"I was a functioning alcoholic" is this metaphorical, literal, or both? Other mentions of use and abuse of drugs and alcohol in her discography include Closure "I'm fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles" Clean "Ten months sober" and Don't Blame Me "My drug is my baby I'll be using for the rest of my life" I think in this case I think it might be both metaphorical and literal. The loss of her love drove her to drink, but also, she was addicted to her illicit love and maybe got away with it until others noticed-?

"All of this to say, I hope you're okay, but you're the reason. And no one here's to blame, but what about your quiet treason?" reminds me again of the song Closure "It wasn't right the way it all went down looks like you know that now. Yes, I got your letter, Yes, I'm doing better. I don't need your closure" It's just as direct, but less aggressive in tone. She hopes her muse is well but they are the reason that she is where she is.

"And for a fortnight there, we were forever

Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather

Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors

Your wife waters flowers

I wanna kill her"

A fortnight is two weeks, though, it may be a metaphorical stand-in here just meaning that for awhile it seemed like they were going to be together forever, but now they are acquaintances who make small talk.

"Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors" reminds me of the ever so quotable line "Good Fences Make Good Neighbours" from Robert Frost's poem Mending Wall, the irony of the poem is that while setting clear boundaries with a wall prevents petty disputes over property lines the constant need to maintain the wall they've built brings the neighbours together to talk. The line is often quoted by people who've never read the poem without heed for the irony. As a reference here it seems very sarcastic - we're good neighbours look how polite and appropriate we are with our boundaries set in stone.

There are many references to gardens and flowers in the TS back catalogue but for me this in particular recalls the lyrics from Clean "The drought was the very worst. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst." and this line translates to me as I hate your partner because they're growing a relationship/family with you, whereas ours is dead.

The MV shows TS wiping her face to reveal tattoos that almost match those of Post Malone who plays the part of love interest in the MV. The differences are the addition of two tattoos that spell out DDP, an extra heart, and a change from a playboy bunny to what looks like a diamond. The tattoos seem to have been covered with make-up while she was chained up in the asylum, and they disappear as soon as she steps out into the other room - only to reappear onto the face of Post Malone. I don't have any theories about what DDP stands for I would love to hear other peoples. Seeing TS with secret tattoos reminds me of Dress, "made your mark on me a golden tattoo." another song about secret love.

"All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February

I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary"

Mondays being the most notoriously hated day of the week because it's the start of the work week for many people, and Feb being post-celebration winter in the northern hemisphere, I read this as - all I do is work I'm stuck in a bleak winter that won't end. I've tried every option available to get over you but it didn't work.

When she enters the writers room she's wearing a mourning dress, which could lend another layer i.e. all my mournings are mondays i.e. all of my break-ups are work/business.

The whole video is in black and white except for the sparks that fly off the pages into the air between their desks, and the fire once she sets things ablaze.

"And I love you, it's ruining my life

I love you, it's ruining my life

I touched you for only a fortnight

I touched you

But I touched you"

This is pretty direct but in context I read it as - I'm still in love with you, I feel stuck, I can't move on and my public image won't let me let you in, we may have only been together for a short time but we were together and I can't/won't forget it.

In the MV there are an endless array of masked figures also in black mourning attire, all with masks and hats sitting at identical desks disappearing into the horizon. Are these the other tortured poets from history, made to mask and hide behind their typewriters in a black and white world?

"And for a fortnight there, we were forever

Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather

Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors

Your wife waters flowers

I wanna kill her

And for a fortnight there, we were together

Run into you sometimes, comment on my sweater

Now you're at the mailbox, turned into good neighbors

My husband is cheating

I wanna kill him"

"My husband is cheating I wanna kill him" This could be literal cheating, however, she is not literally married so maybe that's a hint - maybe he's violating the terms of a contract? After all she's probably not in love with him since she's pining so badly after the muse of this song-? So, why would she still want to murder him? Maybe they were supposed to get lavender-married but he cancelled the wedding and now everything is in upheaval?

She is laying on the ground with PM in the middle of an image of herself made up of pages reading from "The Story of US" book, "So many things that I wish you knew. So many walls up, I can't break through" they seem to be stuck there and then they break free, pages flying in the air, and hold each other laughing. The tattoos are now gone from both faces.

"I love you, it's ruining my life

I love you, it's ruining my life

I touched you for only a fortnight

I touched you

I touched you

I love you, it's ruining my life

I love you, it's ruining my life

I touched you for only a fortnight

I touched you

I touched you"

In the MV she's back in the asylum now, hair undone/pins gone, strapped to a table surrounded by men about to have electro convulsive therapy (ECT) administered, a black dog runs through the frame. The ECG read-out is showing "I love you it's ruining my life" in the read out of her heart beat. One of the panels in the background reads "Master Control." In literature The Black Dog represents depression.

So, when her hair is unpinned she wants to be publicly out as in love with a woman, and the men who surround her and control her and her music deem it inappropriate, they want to 'fix' her. But, when the ECT runs sparks fly, the machinery overloads, she screams, and PM runs over to release her from the table.

"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up

Another fortnight lost in America

Move to Florida, buy the car you want

But it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me"

"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up. Another fortnight lost in America" You won't answer my calls so we've lost another fortnight of our lives to the American culture wars - reminds me of Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince and Paris, which are also songs about running away.

They are now outside in a raging storm stuck on top of a mountain with treacherously steep sides, TS sits atop a phone box in a dress that looks like chain-mail, while PM is inside the box making a call begging..

"Move to Florida, buy the car you want but it won't start up till you touch, touch, touch me." TS has said in interview that moving to Florida in this album is a reference to people running away from their mistakes and starting fresh. She's telling the muse to ditch their partner and runaway with her, this ties back to Getaway Car which opens with "It was the best of times, the worst of crimes" which is a direct reference to A Tale of Two Cities which opens "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way".

"Thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up

Another fortnight lost in America

Move to Florida, buy the car you want

But it won't start up till I touch, touch, touch you"

TS is back in the writers room, tearing open the draws, letting the pages fly into the air, crying, then stone faced in her mourning dress while the pages swirl around her burning. It reminds me of Dear Reader "Dear reader, burn all the files desert all your past lives" The version of her in the asylum smashes down the window.

And finally the version of TS on top of the phone box reaches down and holds hands with PM. She's created imagery of herself stuck inside cages, boxes, glass boxes, etc over and over through the years and this is the first time we've seen her outside and making contact with another human.

Conclusion: our protagonist has been held by force in the image of a virginal heterosexual bride, going slowly insane while she pretends that the woman she truly loves is just a friend, and she's now completely fed up and her bearding situation has gone to hell, she's asking her love to runaway with her and she's willing to metaphorically set fire to her history/her body of work to be with the one she loves.

[04dissection]

You know what? I'm not hiding this please have all of my crane wives music assignments for the prisoners plus Es(Note: I am not confident on all of these):

Haruka: Empty Page

Cut me a path, and I will follow it, Draw me a line, and I'll avoid it- I'm nothing if not obedient. You have my word.

You'll do it better, show me how. You'll do it better, show me how. Tie me up by my callow belief, Someday I'll make something out of me, Years of imitating mastery, Only made me a better thief.

Yuno: Pretty Little Things

I cut straight to the heart. I don't believe the pretty little things that you say, I've heard a lot of little pretty things. Don't buy me flowers, It pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away.

Maybe you're right, and maybe I have been used up, By another man's hungry hands. And maybe you're right, and maybe I have been ruined, By another man after him- But maybe I'm the one who's right.

Fuuta: High Horse

We get what we deserve, We never really learn.

I keep tallies, I keep score. I'm a petty thing on a high, high horse. You've got your mouth open, I hold my tongue, There's so many things that we can't ignore.

You are never gonna change her mind, so don't try.

Muu: Icarus

They're burning down the orchard to the soil, To the soil, to the grave. Spreading out the ashes of a love, That only gave and gave.

Our hands are pulling everything apart, Fall apart, falling back- Tell yourself there's no more need to lie, We don't have time for that.

Leave our footprints to be lost along the ground, Oh my brother, my brother, my brother, There is nothing left to bring me back down.

Shidou: Metaphor

I cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments, You can't trust a single thing I say. I keep my closet free of skeletons, 'Cause I'm much better at digging graves.

I've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape, And all these words are sweet and meaningless!

Mahiru: Strangler Fig

Now I'm trapped within your walls and all I want is to be free, For as Winsome as you may be- All you're doing now is losing me

From your pulpit what will you preach? How to live a good long life that's full of suffering.

Oh, I Gave you everything I had, Now I, now I want it back!

Kazui: The Well

All the words I couldn't say to you, Fill up the spaces in my chest, Like spare coins poised on the tip of my tongue, I make a wish and hold my breath.

Oh, the damage I'd have wrought- That old house, those rotting memories, Burned easier than I'd have thought

Amane: Scars(from what I know, this one has only ever been played live! So no studio recording if you look for it)

I’m not the person that I thought I was- I couldn't tell you where the ache came from. Maybe born in a storm beneath an angry sky- Now it’s raining in my head nearly all the time

All the love, all the kindness, all your best laid plans, Couldn't stop me from becoming the way that I am.

Was I born with a hole in my heart? A fatal fault at the start, Tell me it’s inevitable that I’d end up with scars.

Nothing could’ve been done, Is that right?

Mikoto: Queen of Nothing

Stop the car, I wanna get out. I'm craving open air and solid ground. 'Cause I've been watching from the backseat, Watching the world slipping past me.

Isn't this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it's running out- Just finish what you started.

On and on to the next town- Can we slow down?

Kotoko: The Wolf

I am not a builder, I'm much better at blowing things down

I light torches in my sleep, I have gasoline in my veins- I am always burning, burning, burning

Can it be easy for once? Cause I'm no good at being kind to myself, Or anyone. I am a falling axe, I am a sharpened knife, I am a poison asp, I am a risk to your life, My love.

I am a beast at your back, You better run for your life. Your life.

Es: The Crooked, The Cradle

There's blood in the water. The quiet are restless, the silent are still. I'm nobody's daughter.

I won't pretend, My season won't end. But I pray When it's done, when it's through, I'll have something left for you.

Can anyone hear me? Can anyone hear me? The crooked are smiling, they know me the best.

[ilookbehindthewall]

Taylor Swift's 'Fortnight' and the Quest for Authentic Self-Determination and Identity

As someone analyzing Taylor Swift's new album, I want to emphasize that this analysis is not about the men in her life. For me, Taylor Swift isn't a "man eater," as some label her, but rather a person with feelings, problems, and her own identity. Taylor is creative with her lyrics; who says "he/him" has to directly refer to a lover?

I'm just a regular German girl who faces similar issues herself and can identify with them through her music. I don't want to claim that everything I analyze was her intention; I just want to share my feelings.

I also think that some things can be understood as queer. As I said, I identify a lot with the song myself. So these are my personal impressions. I'm not directly claiming that Taylor Swift is queer. It's more about the content here. Because their inner self is often symbolized as male, one might think that the public Taylor represents the unouted personality, while the male figure symbolizes the outed one.

Like each of us, she goes through a process of self-discovery and self-acceptance. In "Fortnight," she seems to struggle with accepting herself and showing her true self. I won't dissect every single sentence, as that would take too long. Instead, I'll focus on the lines that are most meaningful for my interpretation.

"I was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me"

This suggests that Taylor tried to break away from her public image or others' expectations and instead become her true self, but ultimately, this process was interrupted or incomplete. The phrase "but they forgot to come and get me" may imply that although she had intended to distance herself from her public image or redefine herself, there was no supportive framework to help her successfully complete this process.

"I was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic."

The term "functioning alcoholic" usually refers to someone who consumes alcohol but still fulfills their daily obligations or keeps their life together. In this context, it might mean that Taylor tried to hide or compensate for her inner struggles by consuming alcohol. The mention of her "new aesthetic" could indicate that she also tried to change her outward appearance or behavior, possibly aiming to create a new image of herself or distance herself from her former self. The word "till" in this line might suggest that she stopped being a "functioning alcoholic" once nobody noticed her change or once nobody perceived her as such.

"And for a fortnight there, we were forever"

This suggests that for a brief but intense period, Taylor Swift fully identified with or was aware of her inner self, giving her a sense of eternity or timelessness. It could symbolize a phase of self-awareness or self-acceptance.

"Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather"

These lines might indicate that after this phase of self-awareness or revelation, Taylor Swift sometimes comes into contact with this inner self or becomes aware of it, but she tries to treat it lightly or superficially by talking about everyday things instead of delving deeper. It could suggest that even in moments when they feel intense and happy, the conversation remains superficial, or that they have difficulty addressing deeper issues. This could be part of their dynamic or relationship dynamic, where they struggle to fully open up or understand each other, even in moments of closeness or connection. Likely because she has never really dealt with her inner self.

"Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors Your wife waters flowers, I wanna kill her"

Now she talks about it being over with the fortnight. The "now" stands for the present, the here and now. Here, the mention of the backyard and the neighbors could metaphorically represent the immediate proximity of the inner self in the back of the head.

The mention of the wife and the desire to kill her could symbolize the frustration or conflict that Taylor feels when trying to adapt to a conventional or heteronormative environment while still confronting her inner conflicts and identity issues.

"All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February"

These lines could suggest that Taylor Swift feels trapped in an endless phase of discomfort or stagnation stemming from past experiences or identity conflicts. The metaphor of "mornings that are like Mondays" could imply that she faces each day with a feeling of emptiness or frustration, similar to the feeling of being on a Monday morning, where the week lies ahead and everything feels cumbersome and tiresome.

"Took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary"

Here, Taylor Swift could describe how she tried to break free from these past experiences or identity conflicts by using some kind of "miracle drug" to move on or progress. The metaphor of the "move-on drug" could suggest an attempt to leave the past behind and move forward, but the mention that the effects were only temporary suggests that she still struggles with the effects of these experiences and that these coping methods are not sustainable.

"And I love you, it's ruining my life / I love you, it's ruining my life / I touched you for only a fortnight / I touched you, but I touched you"

These lines could reflect the ambivalence of Taylor's feelings and the complexity of her relationship with her inner masculine self. The repetition of "I love you, it's ruining my life" suggests a deep emotional bond but also pain and conflict. The brief touch for a "fortnight" could symbolize that this bond was temporary but still had a strong impact on her.

"Thought of callin' ya, but you won't pick up / 'Nother fortnight lost in America / Move to Florida, buy the car you want / But it won't start up 'til you touch, touch, touch me"

Here, Taylor might describe her attempts to break free from past experiences or identity conflicts, but she still feels influenced or trapped by them. In this line, Florida could have a metaphorical meaning, representing a place where Taylor Swift can find or accept herself, especially in terms of her true identity. The purchase of the desired car could symbolize her efforts to allow her inner self to take control of her life to live her true identity without being restricted by societal expectations.

The line "But it won't start up 'til you touch, touch, touch me" could suggest that Taylor's true journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance can only begin when she touches or accepts herself. This could mean that she first needs to learn to accept herself before she can live her true identity.

In the music video of the song, we see Taylor taking a pill called "forget him" at the beginning, which she has been taking since her birthday. This is indicated by the date on the pill packaging. In my opinion, this is the biggest hint that the song is not about a lover but about herself.

I love music and it is art. And art has many sides and everyone interprets it differently

~ Hanna

[chosetherose]

🎃 Anon very specifically foreshadowed the closing scene of the Karma music video

This is the 9th message from 5/17. Pay special attention to the parts I highlighted in pink.

🎃 Imagine this. You are sitting on a beach, cold and windswept. The sea is dark and angry before you. The sun sets in muted colors. You finish scrawling on the parchment. Your pen dries up as you reach the end of a story in 11 parts. None of it makes sense anyway. You're sick of having to dilute everything so far beyond recognition. But a story told through metaphor is still a story told. Even the great poet Sappho is survived by stilted fragments and mistranslated lyrics. Maybe that is the beautiful curse people like us must all share. Perhaps loving someone the world doesn't approve of forces you to be clever. You scan your writing once over, brow furrowed. All you can do is hope that it is enough. Of course it’s not. It never could be. You know this. And yet you keep trying, trying, trying. Your image is ten times bigger than you are. You have spent your life living in your own shadow. Stealing your own thunder. Trying and failing, relentlessly, to fill your own shoes. You roll the parchment, slipping it into an empty wine bottle. You may have told the story inside out and backwards, and it may well sink to the bottom of the sea or fall on deaf ears. It may wash up on a sunny beach in Florida, or a rocky shore in the northwest. Either way, someone somewhere will know about that recipe card. And the warm safety you cherish within your fence. And the heist that stole more from you than you ever planned on stealing from the museum. And most importantly, they will know about the human heart. The flawed, scarred, angry, grateful, nonsensical heart. The one that hides deep inside glittering ballgowns. The one that questions everything, but mostly it questions if the world it has grimaced through so many smiles for would love it for what it truly is. You drop the message in a bottle into the riptide. You fight every urge to fish it out before it drifts too far. You watch it until the waves have swept it far, far away. And now it is just a matter of time. The dripping of candle wax. The ticking of a clock. 🎃

Pumpkin is equating dripping candle wax and the ticking of a clock as ways to count down the time. This makes sense: candle clocks were used before modern clocks were invented. They had consistently spaced marking that, when burned, indicated the passage of periods of time. They were mainly used when indoors, at night, or on a cloudy day. [More on this below].

Ten days after this message was sent, the Karma video was released. The coffee clock in the closing scene is in the same place on the piano as the candle theory candles were in the Cardigan video. Like, exactly the same place:

In the Karma video, the 12 numeral on the coffee clock is aligned between the rightmost E and F piano keys; the 5th and 6th of 12 keys.

In the Cardigan video, the left candle is at the same placement. Between the rightmost E and F keys.

The pink lines I drew on the picture below aren’t perfect but get the point across:

Now, let’s look at the obviously Easter-eggy nails holding the coffee before it’s placed on the piano.

Run through my thoughts with me:

The blue nail represents 1989 (5th album)

The black nail represents rep (6th album)

We know midnight on the coffee clock is aligned between or at the 5th and 6th piano keys.

At the end of the video, the coffee clock strikes midnight. (Is this a YAIL reference? Coffee at midnight?)

Will some kind of Karma will be served between 1989 and Rep re-releases? Perhaps…between August and February (as the nail placement hints if you think of each clock numeral as months of the year)? Perhaps…in October like 🎃 has hinted toward? [Or I suppose another view is some kind of Karma could be served after 1989 and Rep re-releases are both out? Perhaps after February 2024 when rep would be released? Maybe October 2024? Lord I hope it isn’t October 2025.

I think there is something interesting about how, before clocks, candles were used to tell time inside, at night, on cloudy days. Like in a hidden cabin or in a dark dungeon that is the opening scene of the bejeweled video. Hiding out from the world like so much of Taylor’s lyrics have illustrated. Now there is a whole era based on a clock and in the Karma video, there are no candles in sight but instead a lover at the piano and one ticking countdown.

My main takeaway here is that 🎃 made a very specific connection. Closing their 9th message with dripping candles and a clock while 10 days later a video drops where a clock is in the same exact place as the candles we’ve theorized about used to be. To me, this is significant.

There is so much more we could unpack here and if I hashed this theory out perfectly it would never get posted. There are also other ways to interpret what I’ve put together but I’m leaving it at this for now.

[theficcafe]

𝐆𝐎𝐃’𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 - 01

↳ Genre: Angst, Fluff

↳ Pairing: college!gojo x fem!reader

↳ Warnings: unrequited love

↳ Playlist: (will link here!)

↳ Masterlist: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

“A single metaphor can give birth to love.”

You have always been the universe’s favorite - at least that’s what you, the internet, and your load deck of tarot cards have been telling you.

Every thought you’ve had seemed to manifest in their own way, may it be bad or good. You recall the first time it happened, it was on your best friend’s (disastrous) 18th birthday. Shoko Ieiri is the only girl you’ve promised to marry once you both hit your 30s and are both single; This Ieiri, the heir to the infamous Shoko clan, though she does not act like it at all; and most importantly, your “till death do us part” (because you both thought having the label as best friends sounded overrated)

The party was an hour away, and a panicking Ieiri had been running around in circles after receiving the news about how the birthday party agency her parents have paid to handle the party needs have forgotten about the disco lights Ieiri has specifically asked for (though you have no idea how it’s going to be the “life of the party”, as she puts it).

“I’m going crazy!” Ieiri exclaims, putting her hands up in exasperation as she slides down the wall you were leaning onto. Unlike Ieiri, you were calm (mainly because this wasn’t your party) - but that wasn’t an excuse not to share the panic with Ieiri, your best friend since eighth grade, who you’re convinced is your soulmate and will end up marrying due to how close your bond her was.

You sighed, sliding down next to her with worried eyes, “Ieiri, there’s still an hour left. They could make it just in time - they left like, twenty minutes ago.”

Ieiri raised her head after burying it between her legs in hopes that it would lessen her panic. “One of the staff texted me and said there’s terrible traffic due to a road accident tonight.” She pouted, letting out a defeated sigh as she looked at the party area behind her, “Maybe we can like, use our phones' flashlights to create some sort of disco lights. You know, DIY.”

You let out a laugh, one that made Ieiri turn to you with a scowl and a “what’s so funny?”

“I just don’t think that’ll work. Two phones’ flashlights can’t possibly fill the whole place, Ieiri. You literally live in a castle. It would be too little.” You tried to soothe her worries by rubbing her shoulders gently. Ieiri had just finished getting her hair and makeup done thirty minutes before she went into the disco-lights frenzy, with all the stylists in the house chasing after her, making sure her makeup was still in place. They gave up 10 minutes after Ieiri began running around in panic.

Ieiri bit her lip and looked down, sadness evident in her eyes, “I guess you’re right, Y/N. No disco lights for us tonight.”

Though you didn’t really get how a disco ball is supposed to make the party better, you understood Ieiri and her love for things like this. Ieiri was obsessed with shiny things, pretty lights, and loud music - she loved going to home parties thrown by popular students in your school just because she loved the feeling of basking underneath colored lights. You remember asking her the first time in Miho’s backyard - a classmate of yours who threw a birthday party (which only reeked of illegal alcohol resulting in you literally dragging Ieiri away from the scene and outside) - why she loved the lights so much.

The only response she gave you was a grin and a soft “You’ll know someday.”

Reaching out for her hand, you gave her a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile. “Just relax, Ie. I have a feeling they might be just by the door now. You never know.”

Just as you uttered those words, the door bursts open.

Five men came in groaning, carrying the large disco ball in a hurry. Ieiri suddenly stood up in delight, jumping up and down in excitement, which made the stylists run back to her again to scold her for moving too much. You, on the other hand, were a little bit taken back at what just unfolded, but you dismissed it as mere coincidence and walked over to the grinning Ieiri.

Ieiri grabbed your shoulders and shook you with all her might, eyes sparkling with wonder, “Were you just God a second ago? That was so cool! That literally happened after you spoke.”

Shaking your head, you pinched her cheek, earning a glare from the stylist who just retouched her makeup a minute ago. You smiled sheepishly and threw a peace sign. “It’s just a coincidence, Ieiri.”

Except all throughout your high school life with Ieiri, it rarely failed you.

Your high-school friends have begun giving you the nickname “God’s Tongue” for having been predict events as accurately as you can. Sometimes, you would just utter a word and it would literally manifest in a minute or so; it came to the point where Ieiri was so convinced that you were magical, resulting in her fortune-telling business (that was literally established without your consent), where students pay you two dollars for a quick “fortune-telling” session (which earned you a hundred bucks and a whole lot of fame because of Ieiri’s scamming marketing skills).

After graduation, you had a strong feeling that Ieiri would be moving away when you were both filling out your college applications. Despite her playfulness, Ieiri had big dreams. You listened countless times whenever she talked about how she realized her dream was to become a doctor someday, and that the opportunity for her dream to manifest to the fullest was in Tokyo. This was confirmed when she showed up at your doorstep teary-eyed, letter in hand, on a regular Tuesday. Your mother had been away for work, leaving you the only person in the house since your father worked overseas. 

“I got in!” Was the only sentence uttered between the two of you before the deadly silence. No one uttered a word after that. You could only stare in shock before you both burst out crying because this meant that Ieiri will be leaving your small, lovely town in Osaka, to pursue her dreams in Tokyo. No more sleepovers, horror movie marathons (with Ieiri just faking to be asleep just to find an excuse to close her eyes), and spontaneous late-night café hopping at 12am. At first, it sucked not to have Ieiri by your side during your adulting stage; it felt different having to tell stories to her through Skype than doing it in person. Being away from her had been difficult in the first six months, but gradually, you both have gotten used to Skype calls and Netflix parties (with Ieiri still faking her sleep on horror movies). On breaks, Ieiri would travel across Japan to stay with you for weeks before she has to go again. This became a cycle, until your 4th year of college.

You glanced away from your worksheet and checked on Ieiri, whose soul was so close to passing out on her desk. You had been on a skype call with Ieiri for three hours, working on your university course works. Just recently, you proposed being her “accountability” buddy after witnessing her breakdown from the anatomy exam result she got over a week ago. 

You lightly tapped on your laptop screen, a playful smile dancing on your lips, “You’re not gonna save lives drooling over your review papers, Ie.”

No movement.

You cleared your throat, trying your best to muster a deep voice, “Ms. Ieiri, you’re getting an F on your exam. You will repeat your entire 4th year of college -”

“ - What? No! I study so hard!” Ieiri jolted up, eyes hazy, but brimming with anger. She looked around for a few seconds in confusion before realization dawned on her. She groaned, enticing a laugh from you. “You’re evil, Y/N. I was literally dreaming of my anatomy professor!”

Shaking your head playfully, you stuck out your tongue and rolled your eyes. “You’re not really doing a great job at being my accountability partner. Every time we study together, you’re either falling asleep or spacing out on your paper works.”

“I disagree.” 

You scowl.

She sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Fine. I know I’ve been spacing out on my course works a lot lately but it’s only because I want this term to be over so bad,” whack! “Sorry, my phone fell.”

You glanced back at your paper and started to solve equations again whilst listening to Ieiri ramble on and on about her plans for the summer break. You could only nod and mumble short replies since you were focusing on acing your thermodynamics take-home quiz - one of your favorite subjects. Though it was Ieiri that found her passion in being a doctor someday, between the two of you, you were always the Science genius. That’s why even before her declaration of pursuing her chosen degree, Ieiri already expected you to take up Science-related programs close to hers. Your curiosity and wit led you to major in an honors program in Biology.

“..and you know, we’re going to have so much fun when you arrive here!” Your head perked up at the statement, confusion evident in your face. Ieiri stopped for a second and looked at the screen in silence, eyes wide, before slapping her forehead in irritation, “Fuck! I ruined the surprise!”

By this time, you’re not paying attention to your thermodynamics quiz anymore. You leaned a bit closer to the screen in anticipation, “What do you mean ‘when I arrive there?’ I haven’t saved up that much to buy a ticket, y’know.”

Ieiri couldn’t help it. She cracked a smile, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly as she spoke, “That’s why I bought them for you!”

Sighing, you closed your booklet and grabbed your laptop, transferring it over to your bed. You laid down with the device on your stomach, frowning at Ieiri. “You didn’t have to, you know. I would come there anyway. I just needed to finish one more shift from the cafe I work at to finish saving up for the ticket.”

Ieiri pouted. “I know, but I really miss you.” a bit of shuffling, and then whack! “Sorry, my phone fell again. God, I am so disoriented tonight. Anyway - it’s my thank you gift for helping me with my schoolwork all the time. Especially with Math, you know! You’re the one getting me through college,”

You chuckled. Throwing all the ticket-thing away, you agreed in the first part; you were mostly the mastermind behind Ieiri’s perfect scores on her physics and chemistry worksheets. You’d spent extra time teaching her over video call on how to solve them, but most of the time, both of you would give up by the final hour and you’d end up answering all the problems. You didn’t mind, anyway.

Glancing over the bottom right of your screen, your eyes widened when you read 5:04 am - that means you and Ieiri have been on the call for hours now! You groaned, forgetting that you needed to be up early at 7 am for your final exams. But then again, this was a normal routine for you as a science major. “Ie, it’s already morning - how did I not notice that..” as if on cue, all the tiredness from your all-nighter study session with Ieiri (and her ramblings) suddenly took over your body. You couldn’t help but yawn, making Ieiri frown. 

“Go to sleep sleepyhead,” She mutters, her voice laced with exhaustion as well. “In a few weeks, we’ll be together again!”

You lightly laughed at how romantic that sounded. 

After an exchange of good-bye’s, the call finally ended. You debated on whether you needed to sleep or just drown yourself with two cups of coffee and stay awake ‘till you couldn’t (because you’re afraid your alarm won’t wake you, anyway), but after five minutes of having an existential crisis, you finally decided to nap for a bit.

While mindlessly scrolling through your feed, you couldn’t help but go back to your conversation with Ieiri earlier. It’s true that you miss her a lot, and that you weren’t having a lot of fun back here in Osaka, holed up in your dorm room 24/7 and living off onigiris and ramen packs from the store across your unit - compared to Ieiri, whose university is closer to her home, so that means she gets to spend time with her family more.

And Tokyo - oh, the city of Tokyo. The bright lights, busy streets, and tall buildings that seemed to tower over everyone had always been a wonder of yours; you had so many questions to ask. You wondered if the air was better there, or if celebrities casually walked around the streets of Tokyo - because the way Ieiri talked about it, it seemed so magical. Or maybe it was the lights. The chatter. The noise reminds you every day that you’re alive and they are the proof; the city itself. Maybe that was why everyone was in love with that city.

Maybe the universe sensed that you were yearning to be somewhere else in the meantime, just enough time to get a break from everything. Maybe it heard your painful cries every time you hit a roadblock and pitied you. And somehow, with Ieiri’s kindness, and of course, the power of having the universe bend at your will, you have manifested another desire of yours again.

Ding!

You looked at the notification.

You furrow your eyebrows.

You have always been the universe’s favorite - having been blessed with the “God’s tongue”, as Ieiri puts it.

The universe bends at your will.

What you did not expect though, 

was an enigma in the form of a person - the kind you could only read in books.

❗ EMAIL NOTIFICATION: You’ve got a mail from Gojo Satoru!

The kind you’d rather not read.

(If you only knew how much the universe has in store for you, you would’ve never answered.)

↳ note: hi, everyone! it’s kao :D

this is my very first jjk x reader fic which i wrote at 4am because i just could not get the idea out of my head. i’ve already outlined how the fic will go and i’m so excited to deliver all the ✨ angst ✨

a feedback/reblog would me a lot to me! hope i could write this one with consistency  •ᴗ•

[lullabyes22-blog]

Silco Headcanons Part II 🦈

Silco headcanons part deux! Some nsfw in there – but nothing too wild. Tw: for violence, sadism and the usual horribleness.

Part I is here!

Also Sevika the Dragon Mom  🐉

Jinx the Batshit Baby Bombshell  💣

Early riser. The Undercity’s hours are inverted – its commercial hub is liveliest in the evenings. Most businessmen have nocturnal schedules. Zaun’s kingpin is no exception. With that in mind, he’s ready by 5 in the evening – which in Piltover would translate to 4 in the morning. He prefers to get a head-start on criming; usually he’ll make a hundred fast-tracked decisions as soon as his foot is out the door.

Despises idleness. You’ll never catch him dawdling in bed. For one, he can’t afford to let things fall to the wayside. For another, he was raised to make use of every spare minute. Time is money etc. If you hear him say, “Make yourself useful,” it’s a codeword for: “Give me one good reason not to gut you like a kipper.”

Despite his wildly-crammed schedule, he never seems in a rush. Time may be money, but neither one is his master.

Has a food insecurity holdover from his childhood. This translates into a hair-trigger temper if he doesn’t get his meals served on time. RIP to his staff. Or you—if you’re cooking him dinner.

Sleeps on his back. Sometimes with his arms crossed across his chest, Nosferatu-style. The position is ingrained in his muscle memory due to his eye/facial injury, when sleeping on his side might’ve risked jostling his bandages. Sometimes Jinx will mimic his pose for shits and giggles. (“Ah, ze children of ze night, vat byootiful music zey make!” - “Go to sleep, Jinx.”)

Drinks decaf. Do not give him coffee. Those who’ve made the unfortunate choice have watched him grow disturbingly more Jinxlike with each cupful—restless, snarky and trigger-happy. Sevika will curb his intake before he reaches full on “Bombs-away!” stage. Seriously, it ain’t pretty.

There are rumors his mother was an inmate at the Asylum of the Irreparable. And that she was a psychotic bitch. Gee—I wonder if that affected him in any way.

Good swimmer. On his feet, he moves with a slinky sharklike grace. In real water, he unfurls like an actual goddamn shark. During his childhood, he used to take dips in the Pilt’s escarpment with other sumpsnipes. He could hold his breath for an impressively long time. The talent likely saved him during Vander’s drowning attempt.

For such a spindly bastard, he has a grip like a vise. One of the consequences of daily gruntwork at the mines. Used to amuse Jinx when she was younger by pulping cavern-fruit between his fingers.

Vander collected orphan strays. Silco collects killer strays. Ran, Dustin, Lock and most of his core coterie have a bone to pick with the establishment, and aren’t above breaking actual bones to topple it down. Jinx was Silco’s youngest stray by far – but hardly his only.

Once every month, he’ll treat his crew to dinner and drinks at the Drop. They’ll touch base, talk shop, and he’ll outline their plans moving forward. Everyone gets a bonus passed out in brown paper bags (cash, drugs, booze etc). It serves as both a morale booster for the crew, and a way for Silco to keep a finger on the pulse of his operation. A good businessman takes care of his assets.

In the same vein, he savors mind-games in an interpersonal context. Allies will find literal or metaphorical traps sprung on them out of the blue, just when things seemed to be running smoothly. The games serve to catch them off-guard and keep them on their toes. He enjoys wreaking havoc as much as Jinx. He just goes about it with a cool-headed premeditation.

Can disjoint his thumb or dislocate his shoulder to get out of handcuffs or restraints. Though it hurts like a blistering bitch afterward.

Things he never leaves without: his coat, coins in his wallet, and a folding knife in his boot. In a pinch he’ll forgo the first. More grudgingly, the second. But never the last.

His body-temperature stays at a feverish baseline due to his Shimmer micro-dosage. He always runs hot. But his circulation is also screwed up after his dunking in the Pilt. His hands stay hellishly cold.

Cold or not, he’s good with his hands. Very, very good. Like instrument of the Devil levels of good. In his youth, Vander could rest on the laurels of his good looks to attract lovers. Silco had to bring some actual technique—social, interpersonal, sexual—to the table if he expected to lure ‘em in. 

By nature, he’s tactile. He acquires knowledge through a literal hands-on approach, Younger, he learnt through actively handling everything around him. He'd find it hard to sit still for long periods without stimulation. Older, he's no different. But he’s learnt to school himself to stillness. Tiny tells give him away: a habit of idly manipulating objects in reach, gesturing while speaking, tapping or smoothing surfaces while thinking.

He’s tactile in bed too. He'll fixate on certain textures and sensations. He also enjoys intense high contact in the form of roughness. He has a high pain threshold that needs some extreme triggers: biting, bruising, bloodplay. He’ll dish it out and take it with equal relish. The suffering (his own, but more often someone else’s) is the root of his catharsis.

Sparse body hair. Light brown. Mostly on his arms and legs and in a happy trail down to his pubes. Very fine stubble on his jaw; shaves thrice a week and no more. Meanwhile his fingernails and the hair on his head grow irritatingly fast. 

His hair is naturally wavy. When he doesn't wash off the pomade before sleep, it sticks up all over in tufts. He despises the disheveled look (it harkens back to his untidy youth), and will always keep his locks well-tamed for neatness' sake.

Sometimes he sleep-talks. Most of it is profanity.

Uses surprisingly few curses in his daily speech. There are more effective linguistic shortcuts than swearing. But if he does swear, you'll hear the colorfully guttural filth of the Lanes sharpening his vowels and eroding his consonants, until he sounds like Vander’s brother in all but fact.

In that vein, he and Vander do share certain habits and colloquialisms, having grown up together. They'll both take their 'elevenses' before noon for a bite to eat and smoke. They’ll both appear more relaxed right before they lose their temper. They’ll both phrase things in a similar manner - i.e. "You did a cack-handed job yesterday," or describing Jinx's antics as being "full of beans." Used to freak poor Powder out. But whenever she made comparisons, Silco would get touchy and bad-tempered.

In his black heart, he misses talking to Vander. In boyhood, they had frequent late-night chats over a shared cigarette. After his ascent to leadership in the Lanes, Silco had moments of badly craving his brother’s listening-ear. 

Sadly, he’ll take poison before admitting it.

He likes apples, despite how pricey fruit is in the Undercity. He’ll munch on a bowful after his evening cigar. Healthy snack cancels out toxic vice, right?

He’s not an animal-lover. But he’s very adept at training dogs and coaxing cats to his corner. All creatures behave within certain Pavlovian parameters. Understanding them is the key to obtaining their obedience. Same goes for people.

Knows the names of all of Jinx’s creations. Also calls them by name during lectures, “Squiggles was in the hallway and I nearly tripped over him!” or “What was Prickly-Pie doing on the kitchen counter instead of in your room?” Lackeys within earshot are never sure if he’s referring to a weapon or a stuffed toy – or both.

Certain scents trigger certain strong emotions. The bilge of the Pilt: betrayal, pain, resurrection. The whiff of burley pipe tobacco: brotherhood, hopes, safety. The crispness of bank notes: productivity, success, opportunity. The char of factory smoke: industry, commerce, ambition. The undernote of Jinx’s gunpowder: freedom, sweet dreams, joy.

Keeps two handkerchiefs on his person. One is for him. The other is for Jinx.

[dc-polls]

"That Really Happened?!" DC Comics Tournament

The Bracket

Groupings

We had 48 entries, which does not split evenly into a geometric sequence (2, 4, 8, 16), but it does split nicely if we break it up into groups of three first. So instead of a bracket with a left and right side, we will have a three-way bracket, where the finalists from groups A, B and C will all go head to head with each other round-robin style.

Seeding

In the poll that went up yesterday, I asked for feedback on seeding preferences. Interestingly, most people voted for grouping similar content, followed closely by random. Some people favored traditional seeding, and very few wanted to see the most popular go head to head early on. Personally I'm not a fan of random since it really unbalances things, but boy would it have been easier than what I've been doing! So here's what I did for our current tournament.

I've hand paired all 48 entries to match similar ones, or ones that I felt had an interesting hook between them. Next I created three different full brackets using these initial pairings so I could compare them. One was completely hand seeded, further grouping sets of matches together. Another took all the initial pairings and put them in traditional sort order using number of notes to indicate popularity (slightly unbalanced bc posts vary in age). And for the last, I took the initial pairings and randomized them with a few manual tweaks to distribute the most popular. All three of these approaches have pros and cons, which made it a tough choice, and in the end we are going with the fully hand seeded bracket. Not every entry had an obvious match, but I hope this will make the tournament compelling!

Schedule

Since we have three arms of the bracket, expect three polls to go up every day until the round is over. Each poll will last for the full seven days. We may or may not take time between rounds. The first round starts tomorrow!

Bracket List

Ready to see the bracket? Click "Keep Reading" and view the list below, or visit the google sheet here! For fun, I've also put the brackets we didn't end up using into the sheet.

Group A

Islamophobia Run Amuck (Joker Becomes Iranian Ambassador)

Black Mask Wears…er….

The Flash Meets Fidel Castro

Superboy gets the personality of Hitler

Sexual Assault Is A Superpower, Apparently

Snowflame, The Supervillain Powered by Cocaine

Domestic Abuse Ghost Possession

Can the real pol manning please step up?

Subway Puritans

My Favorite Same-Sex Couple in DC Comics is Technically Bestiality and Metaphorically Incest

Batman gives a guy ALS

Batman's dad tries to ruin his life

The Earth-Saving Alien Dick

Mal Duncan gets punched in the dick by an Angel

Superman and Big Barda do a porno

Wet and Wild

Group B

Schrödinger's Pregnancy

Zachary Zatara Has Dead Twins

Superman's Sentient Excised Tumor with Daddy Issues

Black Manta kills Aquaman's biological son, Aquaman tries to kill his adopted son

Shvaughn/Sean

So I Married a Protean and No One Told Me

"Not Exactly Romeo": Gorilla Mommy Issues and Other Tales

Superboy Has Two Daddies

Catwoman and the Penguin Cure COVID And Run Away Together

Kon-El Got Enslaved By Furries (And It Led To Pearl Harbor 2!)

Supergirl gets romanced by her horse

This angel centaur is a genderfluid lesbian

Rock Turns Man Gay

Sentient Music Note Saves The Day With The Power of… Gay Love?

Jimmy Olsen Fucked Talia al Ghul

Superman marries Supergirl

Group C

Superboy-Prime Punches Time

3 Year Old Lian Harper Breaks Vandal Savage's Thumb

Alien Invasion and the Time-Travelling Boomerang

Baseball Game to Save Two Worlds

Submission Witheld Due to Copywrite

Lex Luthor Stole 40 Cakes (And That's Terrible)

Bob Haney Doesn't Know Who Wonder Girl Was Supposed to Be

Animal Man discovers the Fourth Wall

Green Arrow hunts humans for sport

What if Space Jam but instead of fun, it's with Batman and it's horribly depressing?

Jason Todd: Tentacle Monster (Tentatodd)

Halloween Costume… of Death!

Wally Mobius Manhattan West

Metron and Swamp Thing go for a ride

Justice League Doom Patrol Inflation Art

Hallucinagenic Party Balloons (for your own good)

As always you can find all posts related to the tournament using #dc-polls-trh

And you can view details about each entry in our Entry List

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Music For the Soul by Alexander MacLaren

Fleeing and Clinging

"We… who have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before us." — Hebrews 6:18

The writer blends two vivid metaphors here, the one of a fugitive unsheltered in the open, surrounded by foes; the other of a man grasping some strong stay. Look at the two pictures. " Fled for refuge." The scene brought before us is that of a man flying for his life, with the pursuer clattering at his heels, and his lance-point within a yard of the fugitive’s back. Grass will not grow under that man’s feet; he will not stop to look at the flower by the road. The wealth of South Africa, if it were spread before him, would not check his headlong flight. It is a race for life. If he gets to the open gate he is safe. If he is overtaken before he reaches it, he is a dead man. The moment he gets within the portal the majesty of law compasses him about, and delivers him from the wild justice of revenge. " By-and-bye" kills its tens of thousands. For one man that says, "I am not a Christian, and, what is more, I never intend to be," there are a dozen that say, " To-morrow! tomorrow! " " Let me sow my wild oats as a young man; let me alone for a little while. I am busy at present; when I have a convenient season I will send for thee." What would have become of the man-slayer if he had curled himself up in his cloak, and laid down beside his victim, and said, " I am too tired to run for it"? He would have been dead before morning. A rabbi’s scholar, as the Jewish traditions tell us, once said to him, "Master! when shall I repent?" "The day before you die," said the Rabbii. The scholar said, " I may die to-day." Then said the Rabbi, "Repent to-day." "Choose you this day "whether you will stand unsheltered out there, exposed to the pelting hustling of the pitiless storm, or will flee to the Refuge and be saved.

Look at the other picture: "to lay hold of the hope." Perhaps the allusion is to the old institution of Sanctuary, which perhaps existed in Israel, and at any rate was well known in ancient times. When a man grasped the horns of the altar he was safe. If so, the two metaphors may really blend into one: the flight first, and then the clutching to that which, so long as the twining fingers could encompass it, would permit no foe to strike the fugitive. This metaphor speaks of the fixity of the hold with which we should grasp Jesus Christ by our faith. The shipwrecked sailor up in the rigging, with the wild sea around him, and the vessel thumping upon the sand, will hold on, with frozen fingers, for hours, to the shrouds, knowing that if he slips his grasp the next hungry wave will sweep him away and devour him. And so you should cling to Jesus Christ with the consciousness of danger and helplessness, with the tight grasp of despair, with the tight grasp of certain hope.

I remember reading of an inundation in India, when a dam, away up in a mountain gorge, burst at midnight. Mounted messengers were sent down the glen to gallop as hard as they could and rouse the sleeping villagers. Those who rose and fled in an instant were in time to reach the high ground, as they saw the tawny flood coming swirling down the gorge, laden with the wrecks of happy homes and many a corpse. Those who hesitated and dawdled were swept away by it.

[weebsinstash]

I feel like Val is the type to get his lil pet hella hooked on some drug(nothing too debilitating…maybe) to the point they absolutely can’t leave him cause he’s able to get the purest most refined version of it and they can’t handle less.

Getting to the point that they just give up running and just start finally settling in to the pet role, or so he thinks, when he realizes they’re just constantly doping up to avoid him in their own little world. Always conveniently high off their horse during the times he usually wants to be pampered and loved by them and he’s just like “oh, well alright cunt if you like that shit more than me-“ just fucking instant cold turkeys them. Watching them get their withdrawal meltdowns and promising them just scraps to get whatever he wants. Snuggles, kisses, lick his nutsack just whatever cause he knows they’ll be desperate enough. Only to snort and grin as they look at him so pleadingly and cute and he tells them what a pathetic job they did, using any outburst as an excuse to… get rough with em.

Wrap them up, give em a lil time out or maybe set them up with a lil buzz toy to work out that frustration and give them a new distraction to get through the painful withdrawals. Only cooing at their pleading and licking up the drool from their chin.

Oh- got carried away there. Anyways he a nasty nasty man n I see him bein fuuucked like dat :>

Oh no absolutely is this something I've thought pretty intensely about. it's pretty implied in the Addict music video that Angel is addicted to whatever drug is in Valentino's cigarettes. when he is dancing but looking anxious, Valentino blows the smoke directly in his face and he goes from anxious to feeling more motivated which is probably deliberate on Val's part and also im pretty sure that unless this is just music video pizazz that Valentino has some sort of powers which would check out since dead sinners having powers is already established wirh Alastor

There is also this pretty blatant visual metaphor

and in Angel's room there are cigarettes that are varying stages of being unfinished implying he's trying to stop and he actively acknowledges through the lyrics "there's another rush of poison flowing into my veins, giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain" and it's pretty clear that on top of being abused and being an addict he's also just trying to use drugs to cope with everything he's going through

So ABSOLUTELY have I thought of everyone's favorite to hate scumbag pimp taking advantage of any weaknesses or addictions Reader may have and I personally can contribute my own personal experiences to this since I have a genetic predisposition to getting addicted and have had problems with alcohol and controlling my habits myself.

I can see it now. You're all in the limo and Valentino is smoking, Angel and a few others are too, and the Overlord looks over at you and laughs because you're smoking a joint and just starts openly mocking you for "that loser little kid shit" (even though I would stake my life that Vox would love getting stoned and gaming out and probably does so). You just kind of shrug him off, saying you're fine with just weed, but Valentino can't help but notice you're drinking too. You'll sit there, toke, sip, toke, sip, until you're a little loopy and feeling good, at your preferred level of euphoria, though there's been a few times you've just straight up fallen asleep in his limo from doing too much too quickly and Angel or one of the dancers had to jostle you awake.

Valentino doesn't see you hang out with anyone. He never sees you around town. As far as he knows, you work your shifts and only leave your rented room to get food, bathe, or run errands. Most of the times he sees you, you're stoned and or getting stoned, and there's been more then once that some catty little poledancer or whomever didn't like you whispered in his ear that you've been stumbling around drunk.

I've thought of it going one of two ways: he gets you high by force, or you ask him for it. Can you imagine it? You've been smoking weed but it just isn't the same, either your tolerance carried over from your human body or perhaps you've just been doing so much you built it back up anew, but now, one of the only things that brought you joy and calmed you down isn't working as well anymore, and you're having to spend more and do more and you'll cough your throat raw and still not feel 'how you want'. This high isn't how you remember it feeling before, so do more until it feels good! It is legitimately such a helpless feeling when you start leaning on a substance for comfort and you notice the efficacy wearing off. There's a sense of fear and desperation in it, that 'your only way to be happy' isn't working. And you start wondering, maybe I should try something else, something different, something stronger?

Val's been watching you and having his employees secretly keep tabs on you and you're all at the club and you're sitting near him and you look down at your last joint that's almost finished and you still feel miserable before glancing up at him with these big sad eyes and gestures to his cigarette, "so what's even in those anyway?" And he just smirks and hands it to you, "see for yourself, baby"

Or like, the same scenario but inverted from another perspective, Val can tell you've been smoking like a chimney to the point maybe you're even paying rent late because you're spending so much on your vices, and even if he can't immediately identify why, there's something that gets under his skin at seeing you all sad and gloomy. I wouldn't put it passed him to offer his cigarette to you and you refuse, and he pushes harder for it, trying to essentially pressure you into doing it until you cave, before just grabbing your chin and shotgunning the full capacity of his lungs straight into your mouth while you hopelessly fail to try to push him away

Either way, once the drug settles, you're just sitting there all 😊 smiling and giggling and engaging, overflowing with dopamine, all but melting into the sofa or limo custom you're sitting on while you play on your phone or listen intently to one of your boss' stories from when he eas alive, which always boosts his ego when you listen and you're like "wow that must have been so scary 🥺" and making him feel all big and tough, and maybe he can even convince you to cuddle a little. What, he's not touching up on you or anything, you can't just sit beside him? He can't wrap one of his arms around your waist and just hold onto you while he's on his phone? I mean, drugs and alcohol, scientifically proven, activate a specific part of your brain, and our brains favor the more primal feelings over rational thought which is why drunk and high people can act erratic and shit. So you're sitting there feeling all hot n buzzed n horny and suddenly Oh, big Mr Valentino has his hand on your thigh and is teasing you, hitting on you a little bit, and the mindset of "fuck that man something NASTY" is overpowering your usual rational thought of "GIRL BE NICE TO HIM SO HE DOESNT HURT YOU BUT OTHERWISE DONT EVEN LOOK IN HIS DIRECTION"

Valentino just lowkey making you a sex addict because he gets you high and gives you mind shattering orgasms 😩❤️ I imagine this would be extremely effective towards those of us that have lived more isolated lonely lives lol. The first morning after he fucks you and your new favorite drug has worn off, he can tell you're embarrassed, barely making eye contact with the man you had said some reeeeal freaky stuff to in bed (which he LOVED lol but he'll tease you for it just to watch you squirm). Maybe it'll be a week, maybe it'll be a few days, but you kind of avoid him, but then, it happens: the two of you wind up sitting in the limo near each other again, or at the club, and he catches you sending glances his way, eyes flicking between either his cigarette or him himself, looking away as soon as he notices you.

He'll pull you close, putting his hands on your body, purring in your ear, "what do you need from me, baby?" with the smell of his cigarette ghosting over your skin with the heat of his breath and you shudder and he knows, he knows you're going to be his new favorite toy

[mezypoet]

review on portrait of lady on fire

since the technological revolution for the past few years and how AI impacted art, I always worried for art. How now even artists may lose their jobs! But now I realize its not possible

Because even though AI may help to art in many ways it can never fully contribute to art. As it lacks the human touch. Human soul. This thought came to me when I watched "portrait of a lady on fire."

For sometime, I have been feeling so dull and words that once defined my entire existence gradually felt distant. Like a colorblind person I have looked at the dull world and suddenly I saw all the colors. Its all thanks to this artistic masterpiece. If that is not what art is(bringing life to the lifeless existence) I wonder what is?

Anyone, even AI can create content. But to create art, you must pour your heart and soul into it. This entire movie felt like a painting. That's the beauty of this movie. The calmness, attention to the little details just makes the movie perfect.

Love always seemed to me as this one straight forward path thanks to pop culture. Either lovers stay and have the happily ever after or they split up and move on. There never seemed to be anything in between. Never seemed to question "what's then?" Nobody really seemed to question the aftermath of both endings because it ended so perfectly fine. Like a book with the perfect plot, perfect reasoning. But is that it? Is that all? Is it actually 'the end' ?

Both in "La La Land" and in this movie love doesn't seem so exact. Its messy and not easy. And it really does speak for how lovers still love each other even when they fall apart. The aftermath that was never questioned is depicted perfectly here. How Marianne and Héloïse still long for each other when the world dragged them apart. How Héloïse still turns 'page 28' after so many years, how Marianne still looks for a glimpse of her and how Héloïse cries listening to the music Marianne recommended years ago.

Apart from this perfection I would like to point out a single detail that I think makes this movie a chef's kiss. The reference to the greek tragedy "Orpheus and Eurydice" . I always wondered like sophie about "why did Orpheus turn back?" But metaphorically this movie gives an explanation for orpheus. As Héloïse replied maybe its because eurydice asked him to turn back. And in the seperation scene when Marianne runs away from her, she asks her to turn back. Wanting a glimpse of her to long for a lifetime. But the thing is its not just Eurydice that may have convinced orpheus to look back. Like how Marianne was convinced to look back. As Hozier sings "I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee That made him turn around"

Céline Sciamma did a marvelous job in creating this masterpeice of a movie. Though in ny opinion I kind of wished for more emotional bonding than physical bonding. But still it beautifully captured the theme of love and grief. And i would very much reccommend everyone to watch this amazing movie PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma

[chordsykat]

Same anon from before. Thanks for answering! I think I wanted to ask you something specific about Murderface. I am having a hard time putting it into words but your ideas for the guys and their secret powers had me thinking how I could better write him and what those powers might be. What do you think when it comes to Murderface specifically?

I think I understand what you're getting at. Murderface can be a difficult character to write for and I'm sure even the writing team for the series had to scratch their heads and do a little digging when it came to what he actually contributes to the band. It's somewhere to be read between the lines when ol' One-Take Willie says "You can't even hear the bass" and Nathan responds "But you can always feel it".

I realize that's a lot of metaphor and what you're looking for is an actual, physical proof of Murderface being useful to the band so... may I also draw your attention to this little detail that I don't see getting a lot of attention when it comes to the foreshadowing in this script: In their little pow-wow, the band all agrees that Murderface's contribution is to suck, and to complain, and to be a pessimist, yes?

After Nathan fails to climb the tree-mountain (again), he says he's got an idea for a song, and that he doesn't know how to write life-saving music, so he's defaulting to the music he does know how to write - brutal stuff. And what does Murderface say to this?

"This plan sucks."

And lo, Aortic Desecration ends up not being the Song of Salvation. So there you go. Run with that if you're going to run with anything. The voice of dissent, as it were. Natural instincts are to cast away the negative voices we're going to hear when we create stuff - especially if all those voices ever say is negative stuff... but there's that one chance they're right, and that we could do better.

Whatever "powers" you end up giving him, I think you couldn't pick a better launching point than this scene.

Good luck, OP!

[aeonianarchives]

Summer Rain and a Sad Lindir?

WAIT A SAD LINDIR WTF IS GOING ON

Summery: reader finds Lindir on one of the benches in garden in the rain and he's sad? so the reader cheers him up.

pairing: Lindir x Reader

A/n: oop this was suppose to be GN reader but I guess it turned into male reader (he/they pronouns)

taglist (forgot I had one of these for a while): @eunoiaastralwings

@elablackcat (it's kinda a wing fic and has Lindir in it thought you may like it besides take it while your waiting for all my wip wingfics)

Summer rain was always something people looked forward to as much as they disliked the rain and the fact the twins tracked mud into the house which annoyed Erestor and Lindir very much.

You yawned as your hands where shoved in your pockets as you walked though the house you sighed and hmmed in discontent when you noticed someone familiar in the garden and sitting on the bench, yes you were new to Imladris and yes you only stay their as Elrohir saved your life well not life your wings from orcs, but you quickly familiarized yourself with those who lived inside the last homely house.

You walked out of the house and towards Lindir, you paused not wanting to frighten the poor elf but you realized he was crying, why would he be crying who had hurt him, you would punch them in there face for hurting Lindir, you had become very close to Lindir he was a gentle and helpful soul who you had grown to care about dearly.

You cast your wing over his head acting as an umbrella as you stood besides him looking away "You'll catch a cold out here" you huffed as much as you cared about Lindir you never actually showed it or showed him it.

"Elves can't catch colds" Lindir said which was true

"If your clothes get all soaked you will get cold" you said still not looking at him.

"What about you" Lindir questioned

"I am an Eagle of Manwë it does not matter" you huffed Lindir hummed he noticed you were holding out a cloth Infront of him he took it from your hand slowly.

"What happened to make you cry" You asked still not making eye contact with him.

"Nyeldo started teasing me about my freckles again and how I'm Imperfect and how I can't be an Elf and I'm just masquerading as one" Lindir said Nyeldo had been his rival for as long as you could remember they were both grate Minstrels and Nyeldo held a grudge against Lindir as Lord Elrond had picked him to server at his right hand and not him.

"Are you sure he's not the one masquerading as an Elf he sounds like a snake" you said crossing your arms Nyeldo was also jealous that you took a liking towards Lindir you did have a rather high reputation from the first and second ages and then deciding to stay and take an elvish form no other eagle had done that they all left children in middle earth and returned to Manwë.

"He's perfect in every way, he's amazing with a bow and a sword and with his words, he's better than me in everyway" Lindir said

"You have something he doesn't" you said crouching down and facing Lindir still with your wing over him as an umbrella, Lindir looked at you and you poked him right in the chest although it was slightly to the left.

"You have a heart, You are the kindest person I have ever known and I know Rog and Glorfindel, you may not be as perfect in appearance and skill as other elves but you know were all that went, it went into your heart Lindir and your skill in music but still you can see things good things in others which others can't admit you can be slow on the take but it's still their" you said to him before standing back up and looking away from him Lindir hmmed.

You had become quite tempted with finally confessing to the Elf who was under your wing both literally and metaphorically although the pairing was quite strange, an elf who doesn't know how to wield a sword and prefers a diplomatic way to get peace and is 'imperfect' and an a great mystical creature who could probably fight a whole army of 300 men (or orcs or even elves) by himself and would probably run blindly into a fight, just to get someone he loves back even if he never had a plan.

Yep that was you and Lindir in a nutshell, quite an odd couple by hey Erestor was living for it (from the shadows of course) and Glorfindel would never let him live it down if he enjoyed the romcom of you and Lindir being completely oblivious of each other reciprocation of your feelings.

“How are you always there at the right time and know just what to say, it’s like your following me” Lindir said

“Trust me I’m really not, it’s just a coincidence” you said it wasn’t a coincidence you checked in on Lindir admittedly from a distance every time you had a free moment this time was no different.

You sighed as you watched the rain drops fall into the pond and the moon's reflection 

“Thank you” Lindir said you hmmed raising an eyebrow not taking your eyes off the pond

“For looking after me, i fear I am a burden for both you and Elrond, you both do so much for me and I can’t repay you” Lindir said, you knew Elrond thought of Lindir as a son he had told you himself and warned you if you hurt him he would release his years of pent up anger on you which you understood that Lord must of had lots and you weren’t exactly secretive but Lindir wasn’t exactly clear to see if someone had loving feelings towards him he assumed everyone hated him because he was ‘Imperfect’

“You don’t need to thank us or repay us, you know you're not the only elf to have freckles, Maedhros had them as well but not many people know that, you should stop wearing your winter clothes in summer you will heat up and pass out, Maedhros never cared what people thought of his freckles besides I think there kinda cute, and they suit you much better than no freckles” you said looking away from Lindir you swore you saw his ears turned a dark shade of red.

“Elrond thinks of you as a son, he would never want you to repay him for his kindness he would simply refuse if you tried to, and your never a burden Lindir, and I don’t look after you that often name one time I have” you said

“That time while I was by the border scouting were new watch towers should be and those orcs attacked me” Lindir said

“I was doing my job, I was on patrol for Gildor. I am a guardian of Imladris. Those orcs got into our borders, it is my job to eliminate them, it was just a coincidence I found them while they ambushed you” You said.

“What about that time when you helped me take books from the library to Lord Elrond” Lindir said to you.

“I had to bring him maps, helping you was a side effect of it” you said 

“What about that Time I fell asleep in your wings and you didn’t move and you said you did it because you thought i needed rest” Lindir said

“You did need rest and if my wings made you fall asleep then so be it, you needed it you spent 2 weeks up with zero sleep and zero rest to organize the perfect dinner for Aran Thranduil just before you had Dwarves who bathed in the sacred fountain and were stressing you out” You replied to Lindir you huffed and crossed your arms.

“What about all those times I found myself back in my own bed in the comfort of my room when i fell asleep in the most random spaces” Lindir asked

“That’s an exception” you said to Lindir you had not notice the small smile come onto his face, nor did you notice him get up until he wrapped his arms around one of yours.

“Your going to catch a cold standing in the rain why don’t we go inside” Lindir said you couldn’t argue with him you would catch a cold if you stood in the cold any longer given how long your patrol was the previous day and it was freezing out that you could see your own breath, Lindir got you to your room and you both hung your clothes up to dry and you got him clothes to borrow yes they may be oversized on him and have wing slits in them which he didn’t need to you wrapped him in a cocoon of blankets to keep him warm and you may of wrapped your now dry thanks to Lindir wings around him and hugged him to keep him extra warm.

“You know just Like how Elves have that whole intimate deal about hair, the eagles have that for their wings” you said as you did not mention it to Lindir before the poor Ellon turned red in embarrassment given how many times he had touched your wings.

“I did not know I deeply apologize, if i of know” you cut him off

“If you known than you wouldn’t of done it, what if i liked it though, I never brought it up before now as I liked it but I brought It up now because you have the right to know” You said with a hmm your wings were soft they were like clouds to sleep on and Lindir loved it, but if it was so intimate to you he would be embarrassed.

“You know I think I know why I go out of my way so much to help you or comfort you, because I could of just left you crying on that bench like everyone else did, and I think it is because I am completely and utterly head over heels in love with you Lindir” You told the elf if Lindir could of gotten any more red he would have.

“I’m sorry but did I hear you right Your In love with me, who would love me, I am imperfect I have so many flaws” Lindir said

“No Lindir, you are perfect, I love every part of you from the top of your head to your toes to every freckled constellation you have on your body and I definitely love how I can be the knight in shining armor to rush to your aid and save you” You said Lindir looked up at you from were he sat in front of you to see your mischievous grin but he sighed to tired to fight it or hid it any longer so he leaned his head back on your shoulder

“Gi Melin ana Meleth nin” Lindir said

“Wait you love me to, I didn’t think you would like me back”  You questioned the Ellon in front of you as you furrowed your brows Lindir only hmmed in response to you, which you took as agreement.

“I never thought You would reciprocate my feelings, your always so grand and you like an Elf like me” Lindir said

“I enjoy the Little things in life and the great grand emotions and shows is just an act” you reply to Lindir while kissing his neck making him laugh

“Why does that tickle” Lindir said

“I don’t know why does it tickle Meleth-nin” you replied placing a kiss on his forehead as he had turned to face you and wrapped his legs around your waist and arms around your neck, your chin rested on his chest as you looked up at him and grinned as he smiled back down at you.

“You deserve all of Arda Lindir” you said, pecking him on his lips. The blankets had fallen when he move so he was wrapped in your wings.

“Your wings are really soft” Lindir said blushing and changing the subject quickly you laughed.

“You know depending how you touch them they can be rather sensati-” you got cut off mid sentence as Lindir stroked your feathers haphazardly 

“Sensitive” you said burying your head in his chest 

“I have always wondered can you still feel your feathers after they detached from your wings, I mean you can control them with your brain which must mean you have a lot of control over them and concentration” Lindir said

“Yes i can” you said as your arms held Lindir closer to you he continued to pet your hair as he asked questions about your wings he had always been curious before and now you were technically courting he could ask these questions now as you always seemed to avoid them in the past and now you were answering them for him.

“Your feathers are still quite wet” Lindir said

“They will dry quickly, unless it’s making you uncomfortable” you said

“No it’s fine i was just seeing if you knew” Lindir said you sighed in contentment at the moment you and Lindir were having you wished it could last forever but you knew it couldn’t, but you could enjoy it for as long as possible, you could listen to Lindir’s heart beat while he started singing under his breath while stroking your hair and your wings indefinitely, it was small moments like these that reminded you why you stayed in Middle Earth after most of your Kin flew back to Manwë and Valinor and why you decided to become a skin changer and have an Elvish form.

Without that you wouldn’t be able to have Lindir nor would the elf of known you, some days you really hated that you stayed and wished you flew back to Valinor but memories like this and Lindir, Glorfindel and Elrond also made you glad you stayed when everyone you loved and cared about and know as Kin and family and you held as brothers flew back to Valinor, you were alone but these moments made up for it.

Elvish Translation:

Gi Melin - I love you

Ana - to

Meleth Nin - My Love

[autisticempathydaemon]

For the Redacted match-up! ^_^

A song I’m currently fixated on: “the lakes” by Taylor Swift. The whole song is just so beautiful and wistful. 😭 And something about the melody of these lyrics just hits so right.

Specific lyrics: “I want auroras and sad prose/I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet/Cause I haven’t moved in years/And I want you right here”

Enneagram type: 6w7. (And just for fun, I’m an ISFP as well)

YouTube essays: I don’t think I can focus my attention on a video for that long, tbh. It’s the same reason I can rarely get through movies in one siting. 😂

Imaginary childhood friend: I think her name was Amy? Don’t remember much else, though.

Falling asleep: I always sleep with my fan on, no matter the weather. I have to have the white noise, otherwise it’s just too damn quiet in my room. Usually I’m propped up by two pillows, cuddling one of my stuffed animals or something. If find that I can’t sleep, or just want something to fall asleep to, I’ll put on one of Redacted’s sleep-aids.

Name change: Cheesy as it sounds, if I didn’t have my current name, I’d love to be named Juliet. It just has such Main Character Energy™️ (and I mean that in a good way) and is freakin’ romantic as hell to me. (And yes, I’m aware that the play is a tragedy, not a romance. 😂)

Favorite Redacted audio: If I had to pick one, I think “Serenity Daemon Helps You Relax and Sleep”. That video is just so freaking comforting and sweet, and it’s knocked me out more times than I can count.

Redacted boi with no appeal: Regulus. Yanderes just aren’t my thing, and he legit scares me. 😅

Book/Movie/TV show you could quote entirely: I’ve watched The Breakfast Club so many times, I could quote it forwards, backwards, and sideways.

Redacted BFF: Elliott. Take away the “Lovers” aspect of his relationship with Sunshine, but keep all the playfulness, teasing, and banter that they have together, and I’d be perfectly happy. 😊

(It’s also a really perfect coincidence that Eli’s said he’s the “Protector” type, and I just so happen to like being protected. XD)

Go-to tired ramble: Most of the time when my any of my friends and I would have a sleepover and it was late at night, we’d just get really deep and start talking about life.

Go-to gas station combo: I try to avoid gas stations when I can, just because I hate the smell of gasoline. But I’d probably get a plain Hershey bar and a bottle of water. (I know, I’m boring. 😂)

Favorite playlist: Do you mean Redacted, or just in general? Because the answer depends.

For a general answer, Jacksepticeye’s play through of Night In The Woods. That game is honestly such a comfort one for me, and I can watch that playlist a million times over and never get tired of it.

In terms of Redacted, Ollie’s. If there’s angst abound on the channel, or I’ve just had a bad day at work or something, I can run to his playlist and feel like I’m getting a big, warm, metaphorical hug. 🥰

Guilty Pleasure: I still read, and love, young adult novels. I don’t care that they’re “predictable”, and that I’m “too old to be reading them”. You can pry those fluffy, romantic, cheesy-ass books from my cold dead hands. 😆

Anything else about me:

I seriously think I’m the biggest Swiftie I know. When I say I’m obsessed with her music, I am not kidding. 😂

I’m a huge musical nerd. And coupled with that, I love, love, love to sing. (Provided I know that no one’s listening, anyway.)

I’m a total introvert, and am pretty shy/quiet in general, unless I’m around my friends.

My love languages are quality time and physical touch.

I maaaaay or may not have a slight candle obsession. (Bath and Body Works ones, specifically.) Seriously, I have like, four unburned 3-wick candles sitting on my dresser, and I’m convinced I just like to collect/look at them as opposed to actually lighting the things. 😂

I’m a cat person through and through

This one’s random, but I felt like adding it anyway. I basically live in one beat up pair of combat boots. There are not a lot of shoes in my closet.

I have this thing where I either tear through a TV series in like, a few days, or I don’t touch it for months. The same with books. I don’t know why I do that. 😂

My favorite colors are blue and purple 💙💜

Well, if you’re a cat kind of guy (gn), you know that’s gonna make things easy for me! Though it might not be the boy you think, because I’ve got a case to make for you and Milo Greer.

What I really like about y’all is how the things y’all like (other than cats) contrast and how cute that contrast is. Like, I don’t think Milo’s a Swiftie but man shows up and shows out to take you to her Eras tour. The Breakfast Club isn’t his favorite movie, but he’s seen it with Marie; he’ll say the iconic lines with you when y’all watch it for the hundredth time. He doesn’t really love musicals but he can hum along to Alexander Hamilton with the best of them because that’s an ensemble piece and you need a backup singer.

Milo’s just a really great boyfriend who shows love with a combination of Quality Time and Acts of Service with little sprinkles of Gifts. It’s not just time spent with you, it’s time spent engaging in the things that interest you and make you happy. It’s the time thinking of you when you’re apart and bringing home fun, new candles he saw at the store. Although he is definitely not opposed to physical touch- y’all have a lot of cuddle nights, just you and him and Aggro.

Song:

However big, however small/ Let me be part of it all/ Share your dreams with me/ You may be right, you may be wrong/ But say that you'll bring me along/ To the world you see/ To the world I close my eyes to see

Now, I said Milo’s not really a musical man. You know what he is? A bisexual king with good taste, which means he loves you and a good Hugh Jackman flick especially since Zac Efron is involved. So I think he’s a big fan of The Greatest Showman and of singing the addictive, earworm-y songs with you. A Million Dreams is the sentimental choice, but y’all go fuckin hard to This is Me.

Runner-Ups:

Guy is absolutely a Swiftie and a musical theater kid, okay? Erik hasn’t confirmed it, but I know it in my spleen to be true, so he’s a fantastic runner-up for that reason. Vincent is a runner-up because he adores but despises that you stick to one pair of torn-up shoes and constantly showers you in luxury footwear. I think that’s cute.

note: I understand you completely candles are not just scent pieces they are decor

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌