#if this is something you live with too then believe me i understand. it's a bigger deal than some people make it out to be.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Shine

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Petty games don't work well with Azriel, but you never learn, do you?

Warnings - angstttt, pettiness, feral Azriel, possessiveness, lil bit of fluff, smut, oral m!receiving, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, shadow play, unhinged Az, basically just smut tbh

Tension and anger echoed about the study, it was so stifling that even Rhys had no option but to dart his gaze between Azriel and yourself as you both stood opposite one another, chest to chest, shouting at one another due to your sheer luck and dangerous stupidity.

It wasn't like you couldn't handle yourself, but you knew you had only returned from your latest mission in tact by the skin of your teeth and sweat on your brow. Azriel had known the severity of the situation when you had muted the bond, and that made him morph into a feral beast.

Cassian had received the initial onslaught of his anger, his cheek throbbing and bruising as he sat lax in one of the armchairs with a rag full of ice pressed to his skin.

Muting the bond was something he had forbidden you to do, no matter what, and you had gone and done it.

"I couldn't risk your tugging distracting me whilst we tried to get out of there," you shot, shouting up at his towering frame that cast a shadow over you.

Even his shadows had retreated behind him, occasionally begging their master to stop shouting at you, that their pretty love was alive and well, they begged him to hold her and love her, but he was too angry to even think of it.

How could you be so foolish? Azriel had told you not to make all of the mistakes that you had, and you hadn't listened to him, not for a mere moment. It was in that moment that he loathed your cockiness and wit.

Clenching his fists, Azriel's nostrils flared, you stood toe to toe with him, an act that not many lived to talk of afterward, new-born fire burned in your eyes, "You're so reckless, y/n. As long as I have a say in it, you won't see another mission until you learn your lesson."

Stoic. Final.

Rhys sucked in a breath at your face, a usually soft thing that had contorted into blind, psychotic serenity, even the High Lord shrank into his seat whilst Azriel slowly realised the gravity of his words, "Am I bad dog, Az? Are you going to rub my nose in my piss and tell me how awful I am?"

Darkness tugged at him, forcing him back a step, but your eyes didn't falter, didn't move from his face for a singular moment. It was too late to take it back, the underlying tone that told he that he was attempting to tell you what to do, so he stood firm. "You both could have died today because of your stupidity. Rhys would be mindless if he allowed you to step foot on another mission."

There was a cut in your brow that was leaking blood, arrows tipped with faebane were shot at you during your escape, one of which had grazed your brow. Dirt brushed against your cheeks, twigs were entwined in your hair, possibly from the fall that caused your scuffed knees; you had walked into the house limping, smirking to Cassian at the near death experience, and that made his anger roar even more.

The gaze of a thousand blades cut into Rhys and he winced, lifting his eyes from the desk to you. He couldn't deny how reckless your actions had been, you could have died, you could have left Azriel without a mate, both of them without you and Cassian.

Rhys' lips curled into a tight snarl, partly due to the anger of being pulled into one of your fights which left the city trembling, "This conversation can wait," he rose from the desk, hands flat and steady on the tabletop, "We leave for Autumn in two hours," he looked to you, "You should go and make yourself look more presentable. But as for you going on another mission, I do believe that you should take a step back for awhile, until you can understand how your actions impact the lives of your comrades."

You went to bark a reply, your shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession. Rhys simply held his hand up and you growled at the action, the predator inside of you not liking being silenced one bit before you turned on your heels and flung the door open so hard that one of the hinges ripped from the wall, not before glaring at Azriel like death was imminent on him however.

"Thank you for that, Az," Rhys sighed and fell back into his seat, making a mental note to get the door fixed and reinforced.

You were by far the most fierce member of the Inner Circle, war was your middle name, you relished in your brutality, and it had astounded them all time and time again just how vicious you could be. One winter solstice, many many years ago, Amren went as far as to gift you with a pair of ornate talons like they were pieces of jewellery, the bloodthirsty animal inside of you grinned at them, and you hadn't gone into any battle without them since.

Azriel was the only person who wasn't scared of you, so it made sense that you had discovered that you were mate. It had taken you a long while to accept the bond, you knew that you were a difficult thing to handle, but he seemed up to the challenge, and he slowly broke down every defence you had thrown up around your heart.

Throwing his head back and running his hand over his face, Azriel cocked his head toward Cassian who sat there wearing a shit-eating grin that he wished to wipe from the face of the earth, "You'll be paying for that later."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Each time Azriel stepped one toe over the line you had drawn, that being attempting to control you or hinder your movements, you would react in the pettiest of ways. Sometimes you would wear the skimpiest thing in your closet and walk about the River House in it to tease him, swimming in the dark eyes of Cassian or sultry words of Mor, and you'd continue to wear it until he would forcefully drag you into your shared rooms and fall to his knees before you, begging for a taste. Other times, you'd go as far as to paint the town red with Nesta and Mor, and he would find you grinding against another male in Rita's, drunk off your ass, and the male would freeze and simper away once he realised whose eyes had stalked him from across the room.

Every attempt to rile up your mate had worked, you had always pulled an apology from his lips the moment he was done fucking you senseless. Azriel hated your little games, he made it clear often, but he always played them.

From the fury in your eyes, Azriel knew that you'd be taking your pettiness to a whole new level that evening.

Using the excuse of your cut up brow, you had managed to buy yourself an extra hour of alone time whilst the rest of your family departed for the Autumn Court.

It was Eris' birthday, and the new High Lord had invited you all as a notion to strengthen the newfound alliance between the courts, and of course, Rhys had agreed. Pity for Azriel that Eris had always had a wandering eye for you, and you were certainly going to use that fact to your advantage.

Gold clung to you like a second skin, a tight and sheer strapless corset pulled against your chest, adorned in a design of vines and dainty flowers, the skirt was long and trailed behind your steps and it was just sultry enough that it exposed both of your legs, right up to the thigh, and one wrong move would expose your cunt for all to see, the only saving grace being the golden fabric that just brushed below it.

Nesta had chuckled low at the look in your eye as she had styled your hair into loose curls. No accessories were needed, the dress was a statement on its own. You had been saving it for yours and Azriel's anniversary which was three days away, but such vicious actions had led you to remove the custom made garment from its casing and wear it for the High Lord of Autumn instead.

Adjusting the straps of you golden heels, you floated through the house like a summer wind and winnowed right onto the front lawn of the Forest House, a feline smirk on your lips as you felt the bond sing at your presence. Music and laughter poured from the open windows and doors, fire lanterns illuminated the path, and the guards at the doors didn't even ask for your name as they opened them with their mouths slightly agape.

Eris was sat upon the dais, looking rather bored, and then his eyes found you and he sat upright in his seat. The act made the room turn to you, to the dress glowing in the candlelight, to your exposed skin poking from the sheer material that stuck to you.

Murmurs from the crowd were dim against the music playing from the band in the corner, and you felt all eyes on you, even the ones that were seething. Once you had sauntered to the foot of the dais, you flickered your gaze up through your long lashes and curtseyed, low, low enough for Eris to catch a glimpse at the delicious cleavage at the heart of the bodice.

From the corner of your eye you saw Cassian's mouth move, to which Azriel's head snapped in his direction in warning before it moved back to you. A smirk befell your lips and you rose, "I apologise for the lateness, My Lord," your words were seductive and you skin glittered in the light due to the shimmering oil you had placed on your hands and arms, on the calves that Azriel loved to trail kisses upward.

"Perfection takes time," Eris drawled, his whisky amber eyes fixated on you, you were by far the most radiant thing he had ever seen, and the most vicious, it made his senses sing, "I appreciate the time you spent readying yourself for me."

With a smirk, you walked from the foot of the dais, in the opposite direction of your family, and toward a table adorned with various flutes of sparkling wine, plucking one from the surface and drinking the sweet liquid as the room resumed its previous activities.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Feigning innocence, you peered up at him, doing your best not to grin at the redness of his face. Azriel looked oh so handsome, dressed in all black, the top two buttons of his silk shirt undone to give you a glimpse of his tattoos, "I'm drinking my sparkling wine."

"Y/N." Azriel's voice was low and demanding, it made your hairs stand on end and a sinful shudder crawl down your spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Sorry, Azzie," you suck out your bottom lip and turned around, facing the crowd who were stealing the odd glance in your direction.

Azriel moved behind you, his breath hot on the curve where your neck and shoulder connected, "I've never seen this dress," his fingers brushed against the chain-like material.

The look on his face was not one you wanted to miss when the words fell from your mouth, so you craned your head, turning your beautiful face over your shoulder, "I had it made for our anniversary," his eyes darkened, "Thought why it should be wasted in Velaris when it would be so appreciated here."

Light glittered over your face, making the shimmering powder on your cheekbones glow.

Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers gripped your hip, no doubt leaving bruises swelling on your skin, "Our anniversary."

An innocent hum vibrated against your lips, "Yes. Seventy-four years this week. We were going to make it special. Shame."

Then you turned away from him as a familiar presence entered your consciousness. Eris stood before you, eyes low and darkened with desire, a sight that Azriel lowly growled at, "May I?" Eris offered his hand as the floor reset, and you didn't hesitate to take it, ripping yourself from Azriel's grasp and allowing Eris to lead you onto the dancefloor.

No one else dared to join you.

Surely, where fire met fury, people would burn.

Eris' hand stayed locked in yours whilst his other rested low on your hip, barely grazing the bare skin at your thigh, his lips brushed the shell of your ear as the music started, "Don't let anyone take away your shine."

The High Lord whisked you into a waltz, his steps perfectly matching and harmonising with your own, looking deep into your eyes the whole time. You had to admit it, Eris was beautiful, not as beautiful as Azriel, but still. For a moment, your forgot about the world as you waltzed in his arms, his fire colliding with the flame burning within you, and the entire room held a breath and could only watch the magnificence of it whilst wishing it was them.

The music slowed as did your steps, and one more twirl later, Eris bowed to you, your hand still in his, and kissed the marriage band on your ring finger, smirking against it slowly before rising and taking another step toward you, "I like your games, y/n," your heart began to race, "Do let me know if you'd like your fantasies fulfilled," his finger twirled your hair around it and he hummed in approval.

Then, Eris moved, taking your arm and leading you back to where he had taken you from, which was away from Azriel as he stood between Feyre and Rhys on the other side of the room, eyes wide and shadows dancing.

It should have been menacing, the look on his face, the crooked, unhinged grin and dark eyes that peered at you. All it did was make your cunt burn with need.

Perhaps you had pushed him too far.

For another hour, Azriel stalked you from the opposite side of the room, he was the predator toying with its prey, and he fucking knew it. The constant intensity of his gaze filled you with excitement and dread, until it had gotten too much altogether.

The halls of the Forest House held a chill, and your heels against the floor echoed about the vast halls and tunnels. You weren't sure how far you had walked, up a few staircases and down so many hallways that you were sure you had gotten lost.

That intensity still lingered.

Exhaling shakily, you stopped your walking and you spoke, "I know you're here," you turned on your heels as another pair of steps prowled down the candlelit hallway.

There he was, hair messy from raking his hands through it too much, eyes zoning in on you, his shadows poking up from his shoulders at the feeling of having you so close.

"As observant as ever," he purred, taking another step, and then another, "Did you really think you could wear that, a beautiful gift for our anniversary, to remember all the time that we have spent loving and fucking one another, for another male. Our enemy. And think you'd get away with it?" Another step, and your breath became caught in your throat, another step, and he was on you, his breath fanning over your face.

Backing into the wall, your heart lurched at the lethal speckles in his eyes, "Perhaps you should stop trying to take away my shine," you tried to speak as calmly as possible, but he saw right through it, and Azriel grinned.

Raising his hands, he caged you between them, then one of them moved to graze against your cheek, then the line of your collarbone, then down your arm and hip, until they lingered where your dress and thigh met, "Shine all you want, my mate, I won't stop you," his fingers dipped under the hem of the skirt, caressing your thigh, "But what I will not tolerate, is you wearing a thing meant for solely my eyes alone before others, and bathe in the sinful thoughts of them."

He was beyond pissed. It was hard to see anything but the Spymaster of the Night Court in those eyes.

Gulping hard, you had no choice but to shrink a little, like a bunny caught in the jaws of a wolf, from the lethal promise in his eyes, "I wanted, for once, to do what I wanted to do."

Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, a feathers touch away from your lips, "And what do you want now?" His voice was rough and low, a hush above a whisper, his fingers continued to rub soft circles into the skin beneath that golden hem.

"I want..." you looked into his eyes, into the eyes that engulfed every piece of you, "I want..." your back slid down the wall an inch or so just to put some space between you.

"I need your words, Angel," he cooed as his other hand moved from the wall to run down the side of your face and neck.

"I want you," the submissive tone in your voice made him melt, he grasped your wrist and pulled you down the hall, wind sifting through your hair at the speed of his steps, until he opened a door and pushed you inside.

The room was humming with the last of a simmering fire, the last licks of flame flickering across the room. Hands roamed your waist before he murmured, "I think I'd like you to keep it on."

Spice and cinnamon faintly clung to the air, mulled wide and ash. Then it dawned you, you were in Eris' room, you were about to be used in Eris' own bed. A sickly tempting realisation.

Azriel rounded your figure and smirked, he was enjoying toying with you, if you wanted to play, then he'd play.

The Shadowsinger moved across the room, sitting on a chair you knew Eris would have spent his nights reading in, and sat down, legs spread and slouched into the cushion. Tapping his foot against the wood in waiting, you stood there, you weren't sure for what, but your chest panted.

"Well? Come to me, Angel," he purred, smirking at you, you moved to take a single step but he tutted, "On your knees."

Fire spread through your entire body and you sank to the ground, dancing your palms along the wood as he watched on with that predatory glare, "You look so good crawling for me," his praise made your core pulse, and you knew that you were already glistening for him.

Kneeling before him, in the middle of his open legs, you felt the world shift, and you knew he was about to devour you. Azriel motioned to the best of his trousers and commanded, "Take them off," your fingers reached for the belt, unbuckling the clasp before untethering the buttons to his satin briefs and pulling them down to see his cock already hard and throbbing for you, your fingers delicately curled around him and he groaned at your touch, "With your mouth, Angel."

Azriel shifted his position, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his chest, to make himself more accessible for you.

Taking him between your lips, you swirled your tongue around the head, flickering the tip of you tongue over him. Deeper he went, and you hallowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head, Azriel's head was thrown back, his hand curled in your hair as he guided your movements, "You're so perfect, aren't you? Look at how pretty you look," a soft whine moved through you and you rubbed your thighs together, begging to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs.

Azriel continued to guide your head, meeting every movement to the lazy thrusts of his lips, both of his hands were in your hair now, he moaned, a breathless sonnet that made you moan, making your lips vibrate around his cock.

Within a moment, Azriel had removed himself from your mouth and scooped you up from the floor, not breaking his stare as your thighs pressed around his waist and he moved to the bed, "Do you know whose room this is?" Azriel grinned against you neck, he moved back, his face hovering before your own as his fingers moved between your folds, you jolted at the contact, "It's Eris'."

So he did know.

Azriel pressed his lips to yours and you gasped, his finger entering you, and he took the opportunity to nip your bottom lip between his teeth, "He thinks he can touch you like that, think of you like this?"

He was going to fuck your scents into the foundations of the castle, so that Eris would never to able to escape it, escape the untouchable state of your mating bond.

His lips were on you again, and he shifted his position, resting between your legs as his fingers continued to draw soft moans from your lips. Azriel pulled away, taking his time in removing the satin shirt from his body, unlacing the cuffs and drawing the garment over his shoulders, his wings flexed behind him the entire time to make you remember who exactly your mate was.

Azriel positioned himself and pushed into you, capturing your lips on his to silence your soft groan whilst he stretched you, until he was fully hilted inside of you. Then he began moving, rolling his hips back and forth, mumbling against your lips, "You're mine. All mine."

The skin on your neck was clouded in marks from his mouth, sucking and biting every part of you he could see as he rocked into you, slow and deep, trying to stay in control.

Whimpering beneath him, you took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes; his hair fell over your face and you brushed it away, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "Let go."

It was all he needed.

Azriel pulled out of you, flipping you onto your front, and positioning you so that your back was arching in a perfect crescent moon, he wasted no time in pushing into you again, smirking against the walls that were already quivering around him.

This time, he wasn't gentle.

Your mate fucked you relentlessly, you were blubbering beneath him, feeling your walls spasm as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, moaning so loud that you were surprised no one had come in to investigate who exactly was getting fucked in the High Lords bedroom.

"Az, please, I'm going to-"

A familiar flutter passed over your clit, coiling around it and you clawed yourself right through Eris' feather pillows at the touch. The others flowed through your hair and down your sides, licking and caressing your skin.

Crying out, that white light blinded your senses as you came all over Azriel's cock that was slamming into you whilst his shadows took you to a whole other world entirely.

"That's my girl," his fingers trailed down the curve of you spine, furling in your hair and pulling you up so that your spine met his chest, burying his head into the nape of your neck, "Such a pretty dress, hm?"

Azriel didn't slow down, thrusting up into you, his fist curled in your hair and tugging on it to give him access to your neck and earlobes, "Mother above," you muttered through breaths, clutching onto the arm he had wrapped around your waist.

Smirking against your skin, Azriel coaxed another orgasm from your body, commanding his best shadows to stay focused on that bundle of nerves that craved attention, "Eris won't ever be able to escape this, us."

"Azriel," the possessive primal instinct had consumed him, the need to mark what was his, right in the heart of his enemies den, "Please."

"Tell me what you want, Angel."

"I want you. Please."

"How could I deny you when you're being so good?"

This time, Azriel fingers moved over your clit, sending electric white heat through your body, raw and euphoric, and he slammed into you, moving with unwavering pace until you quivered around him tighter than you ever had before and he felt himself slip.

His movements had you begging as he fucked himself deeper inside of you, through his high that had him moaning your name. Then his movements slowed to a stop, and you stayed sat on his still throbbing cock, "I hope that Eris enjoys your message."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to your neck, allowing his hands to float down the bodice of the dress that had got you to where you were, nestled on your mates cock in the room of his enemy, "I'm sure he will," his fingers drifted to your stomach, halting there with a smile, "We may have done it."

Looking down, your hands moved to the same position, slithering beneath his, "Do you think so?"

Azriel hummed against your skin, "I do," It was no secret that you and Azriel had been trying for a child for years, you knew it wasn't ever going to be instant, but you had hoped for at least two perfect glimmers of your love for one another in the entire seventy-four years you had spent together.

"I hope so."

"Me too, Angel. Me too."

Smirking, you pulled away and turned to face your beautiful mate who was still kneeling atop the bedspread, "Are we going to talk about that little scene in the hallway, and on that chair?"

Azriel mirrored your smirk, "What can I say?" he moved to you, connecting his lips to yours, his other half, his everything, Azriel looked to your swollen full lips, to your hair, to your eyes that were glowing in the dying light, he shrugged, "It's the dress."

Author's Note

👀

#acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand #cassian #eris imagine #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel smut #acotar azriel #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader

[accio-victuuri]

4/29 candies to enjoy ^^ 🍭🍬🍩

this was a busy day for us cpfs. so i’m gonna compile some bits that made our cpn-senses go off! 😂

the most obvious, and my fave, because of how it follows the pattern is them not overlapping their releases. i thought gg was gonna release the gucci stuff at his usual 10:05 or 10:10 but he didn’t. that’s because wyb had jeanswest release on 10:30. i love how that was given it’s time till 13:00 when gg posted the ad. i’m clowning cause 13 is yizhan! and then 13:20 will be the weibo live for FPU, which was kinda delayed too when it went on. some more materials for GUCCI was released throughout the day but moreso on international platforms.

it’s hilarious cause i saw a hot take from an xz anti before who said he is “afraid” of doing stuff alongside wyb. that is their perception. lol. but i think even if you don’t believe in the whole cp thing, maybe it’s professional courtesy? maybe these two are friends and have this unspoken rule? 🤷🏻‍♀️

tho i was very happy to see them both pop up on my weibo opening screen! and to experience them having these international campaigns, for wyb, lacoste recently— makes me proud. 😌

a funny cpn from today is this parallel. in a segment at FPU, there was a moment where a fan said jiayou and wyb said cheering is not always necessary. It reminded us of that time xz was told to jiayou when he was about to go to the restroom and he’s like???? why do i have to jiayou???

oh these two. 😂😂😂

yibo is the resident gremlin who always has a smart ass reply or some savage comeback for you but xz usually doesn’t. but we know what he has that in him too and i wish we could see more of that!

bonus cuteness before we proceed, this edit of them looking like they are doing the choreo for jisoo’s flower 🌸 and they are BP fanboys so it fits!

now some double standards. in the movie channel interview, they were asked where they first met, and wyb couldn’t remember. compare this to how he was with xz! he was always very proactive that they met in ttxs!!!!

there was also a part where they were asked to give an example of what they wanna learn from each other. and if they communicated to learn. so HJY said street dance and WYB said jiu jitsu but they both weren’t able to learn from each other. in the meantime, wyb taught xz a dance routine 😂😂😂 among other things. i’m sure yibo will be more than happy to help someone out, but i think you have to be at a certain level of closeness to him. or he is really comfortable with you.

this last section is for the beaded bracelet. i think it’s time to discuss it again because this is the 3rd time he is seen with it. so this looks like something personal for him. tho i have to say, you have the coco crush which is both personal and part of him promoting chanel too. i’m invested in this cpn and at the same time frustrated because of the questions.

( p1: him wearing it for the fpu bazaar magazine shoot // p2: worn during the movie channel interview // p3: what so/os are saying is the bracelet not that it matters cause i can clown this too )

1. i hate how no wardrobe accounts have confirmed what it is. and i kinda understand cause we never see it fully, plus there is cpn attached to it so they are extra careful. which is also another source of my frustration. why does he wear it when he has long sleeves on??? he was wearing a shirt earlier and his arms were bare! but wait.. he changed his clothes and as soon as he had something to sort of cover it, the bracelet was on. 💀💀💀💀

it’s like he is purposely clowning us!

2. if this was a jewelry to show off and promote Chanel, why can’t we see it well? and i want to see the change in the beads’ color to confirm if it is what the solos say it is.

i’m also side eyeing international solos who are proudly commenting how wyb’s bracelet is luxury and not some cheap buddha beads like xz’s. what? it’s such an insult to a culture that is important to yibo. those bead bracelets made in specific temples for protection is part of his culture. he knows it’s importance and respects it. but what can i expect from solos really? lol. the bar is already very low when it comes to them but they still manage to disappoint me. 🪦

3. and if it is Chanel, i can still clown by thinking GG bought it for him so they can match. 😂😂😂 atleast with the aesthetic.

bonus: the bone necklace!!!!!

another bonus, i saw this photo of like a celebration i guess for queen of tears. and the cake! the way the actors are cutting it! lol. reminds of xz and wyb! 😂

banner edit source 圣衣雪琳

-END.

#this became longer than i intended too lol #yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 06

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to get her voice to work.  "Harry," she managed to whisper, the word a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of relief.

Silence stretched across the line, broken only by the faint hum of his breathing. The tension that had simmered beneath the surface of their reunion was now a palpable force, thickening the air with unspoken words.

"Y/N," his voice finally came, hesitant yet laced with a surprising tenderness. "Are you alright?"

The question caught her off guard. Despite everything, his first concern was for her.  A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her – guilt, gratitude, and a lingering ache in her chest that spoke of the bond they'd once shared. "I… I will be," she finally managed, her voice trembling slightly.

"Have you…seen it?"  His question hung unfinished, the unspoken words echoing in her mind – Have you seen what's happening online?

A bitter laugh threatened to escape her lips. "Just a little bit," she admitted, the understatement of the year. Natalie and Maia had given her the broad strokes. It was enough to know that her carefully crafted world was about to implode.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with sincerity, laced with an unspoken understanding of the maelstrom she was about to face.

Y/N closed her eyes, briefly overwhelmed. His apology, while genuine, did little to change the situation. "Don't be," she said softly, pushing down a bitter laugh.  "It's ironic, isn't it? All those years of hiding, and now…"  Her voice trailed off, unable to articulate the absurdity of it all.

"It's a mess," Harry finished for her, his voice heavy.  He seemed to understand the unspoken weight of her words, the sting of a love they'd protected so fiercely, now suddenly exposed in the harshest possible light.

A wave of memories washed over Y/N – the secrecy, the stolen moments, the fear of discovery that hung over them like a constant shadow. And then, the pain of their breakup still lingered, a dull ache that this unexpected reunion had reawakened.

"We were so careful," she whispered, the words filled with a mix of regret and resignation.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his voice. "I know," he said gently. "Believe me, I know." There was a hint of self-recrimination in his tone, the weight of the past they shared settling between them.

The memory of his invitation to Harryween suddenly resurfaced, a flicker of warmth amidst the chaos.  He had invited her back into his world, a tempting glimpse of what could be. But now… she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Harry," her voice was hesitant, "I don't think I can go to Harryween." The words were like a heavy weight settling on her chest.

Last night, after their bittersweet moment in the backstage bathroom, they had went out to the Love Band’s living room and conversed there happily for a while —by themselves and with other people—, and during those moments, he had invited her and her friends to the next show, which was Harryween.

She had agreed. The invitation was friendly, and she knew how amazing Harryween was. Besides, she knew her friends would love to go (Y/N too, even though she would keep it a secret).

But now… with all of this going on, she wasn’t so sure it was the best idea to attend. All eyes would be looking for the mystery girl in the crowd.

"I figured you might say that," he replied, his tone surprisingly understanding.  "It's probably for the best."

Despite his words, a pang of disappointment shot through Y/N. Part of her had hoped… but reason won out. It was simply too risky.

"But Y/N," Harry continued, a hesitant note entering his voice, "What if... what if there was a way?"

She sat up straighter, a flicker of curiosity battling her apprehension. "A way? What do you mean?"

"Think about it…" he said, "it's Harryween! Everyone will be in costume. You could disguise yourself, Maia and Natalie too. It will be packed with people all dressed up." A pause hung in the air as tension and possibility crackled between them.

Y/N's mind raced. The idea was both absurd and strangely tempting. Could she pull it off? Could things get back to normal, even just a little bit, in the middle of all this crazy mess?

"I don't know, Harry," she said finally, her voice laced with apprehension and a touch of yearning. "It sounds crazy."

"Maybe," he shot back, a hint of playfulness returning. "But sometimes, crazy's just what we need."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips. There was a time when they'd thrived on a little bit of crazy, pushing boundaries and creating their own secret world. But this… this was on a whole different level. Public scrutiny, paparazzi, and the potential fallout felt like a hurricane waiting to erupt.

"Even with a disguise," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "there's no guarantee they won't recognize me. The media… they're relentless."

"We can take precautions," Harry assured her, his voice firm yet laced with a newfound determination. He was determined, he wanted to see her again.

The memory of their shared past, the stolen moments before and after his shows and clandestine meetings, sent a shiver down her spine. A tiny part of her, a part she'd buried deep down, yearned for a taste of that carefree intimacy again.

"Just… think about it, Y/N," he continued, his voice softening. "No pressure. But if you do decide… I'll make sure everything is arranged. Secure seats, a top-notch disguise… the works."

The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of the decision before her.  A part of her craved a sense of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with Harry outside the whirlwind of chaos. But the other part…the cautious, pragmatic part…knew the potential risks were immense.

"I… I'll let you know," she finally managed, her voice a mixture of apprehension and a strange sense of anticipation.

"Alright," Harry replied, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "And Y/N…"  he hesitated for a moment, "stay off your phone for now. Don't look at social media. Things are going to get…intense. My PR team will be in contact with me soon, and we'll figure out our next move together, okay?."

After she agreed, the call ended. 

Y/N sat with her friends, staring at the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. 

Harryween. Disguises. Stolen moments. It all felt like a dangerous, thrilling game. And deep down, a part of her was already considering the unimaginable– defying expectations and stepping back into Harry's world, if only for one last night.

Natalie and Maia exchanged worried glances, sensing the inner turmoil their friend was facing. The silence in the room hung heavy, broken only by the soft buzzing of Y/N's phone, each new notification a potential explosion of chaos.

"Well?" Maia finally broke the silence, her voice edged with concern. "What did Harry say?"

Natalie reached out, gently squeezing Y/N's hand. "We heard some of it, but… what's the plan?"

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of the decision pressing down on her.  Should she tell them about Harry's crazy proposal? A part of her yearned to share the burden, while another feared their reaction.

"He…" she began hesitantly, then trailed off. How could she possibly explain the allure of stepping back into the madness, even for one night?

"He wants me to go to Harryween," she blurted out, unable to contain the secret any longer. “Want us to go to Harryween, tomorrow night.”

Natalie and Maia's eyes widened in surprise.

"Go? As in, be there?" Natalie asked, her voice incredulous. "Isn't that like…walking into the lion's den?"

Maia frowned. "But how? Won't everyone recognize you? It's the most exclusive concert of the whole tour!"

Y/N explained Harry's proposal in a hushed tone. "He says he can get us good seats… somewhere discreet. And disguises. He thinks with the right costume, no one would suspect a thing."

A flicker of excitement sparked in Natalie's eyes. "Honestly, that sounds kinda thrilling. Like a spy mission."

Maia, always the more practical one, shook her head. "It sounds like a recipe for disaster. Y/N, the press, Harry's fans… they'll be relentless. If they figure it out…"

Y/N knew her friend was right. It was a massive risk, a gamble with potentially devastating consequences.  But as she thought of Harry, and the possibility of a single night of stolen normalcy, her heart beat a little faster.

She took a deep breath, trying to process their reactions. Natalie's thrill-seeking nature mirrored a small part of her own, while Maia's caution resonated with her rational side.

"I know, I know," she sighed, running a hand through her hair.  "It sounds insane. But… there's this part of me," she paused, searching for the right words, "that yearns for it. Just one more night, one more concert. It also feels a bit bittersweet, since I attended the last Harryween…"  Her voice trailed off, a pang of nostalgia twisting  in her heart.

Natalie leaned in, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Y/N, we get it. This whole situation is crazy. But you have to do what feels right for you."

Maia nodded in agreement. "We're here for you, no matter what.  But please, think about this carefully. There may be fallout you haven't even considered."

Y/N's gaze fell on her phone again, the thousands of silent notifications piling up like a countdown to chaos.  "I need to think," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  "And… well, I'm waiting for Harry's team to propose some strategies. We'll have to see what they say."

The mention of last year's Harryween hung in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the life she'd left behind. It had been a magical night, filled with the thrill of Harry's performance and a shared secret only they knew. 

Could she recapture that magic, even in the midst of this storm?

—

Time seemed to both crawl and race by as Y/N sat alone in her apartment. The warmth of the recent shower did little to combat the chill that had settled in her bones. Strategies and concerns echoed in her head, endless 'what-ifs' twisting her stomach into knots.  

She'd ignored her social media all day, the constant stream of notifications a terrifying countdown she wasn't ready to face. Instead, she'd buried herself in meaningless tasks, tidying the apartment, anything to keep her hands busy and her mind from spiraling. Her phone buzzed incessantly, messages from worried acquaintances and distant friends piling up, demanding confirmation – was she the mystery girl? She couldn't even bring herself to read them. 

Eventually, the isolation was unbearable. Seeking any distraction, she messaged Natalie and Maia, assuring them she was okay, or as okay as someone could be in this situation.  The simple act of reaching out brought a sliver of normalcy back into her chaotic world. 

A flicker of her phone screen broke the renewed silence. A text from Harry.

She couldn’t help but feel her heart racing seeing the new notification on her phone.

Hi sunflower xx

Can we meet? I just had the PR meeting, and I’d like to talk about the options with you, in person.

A surge of adrenaline washed away the exhaustion. She didn't hesitate.

Yeah, sure, my place?

Not even a second after, there was a reply from him.

It’d be perfect :)

Can you send the address? xx

Since they had met and started dating while she was studying abroad in London, and then they moved together back then, she never had a place of her own in Los Angeles when they were dating. So, naturally, he didn’t know where she lived anymore.

She quickly shared her address, and decided to brew tea while she waited for him to arrive.

Within thirty minutes, there was a knock at her door. Y/N took a deep, steadying breath before opening it, revealing Harry on the other side. He looked slightly disheveled, the usual polish of his superstar persona replaced by a hint of vulnerability that tugged at her heart.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, a soft smile playing on his lips that seemed imbued with genuine warmth and a touch of nervousness.  

“Hey,” she replied, stepping to the side of the open door, “Please, come in.”

As he walked into the open space of the shared living room and kitchen, his green eyes scanned the place. “It’s a lovely place,” he remarked, his compliment genuine.

A strange sense of displacement washed over her as she watched him cross the threshold. This apartment –this space she'd meticulously chosen and decorated– represented a chapter of her life he had never been a part of. Seeing him here felt disorienting, like a dream overlapping with reality.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, closing the door behind them. An echo of shared domesticity hung in the air, a reminder of a past they couldn't speak of. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, more out of habit than genuine hospitality.

Harry shook his head slightly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I'm alright, thanks."

A tense silence stretched between them as they both took a seat on the couch. The apartment, once her sanctuary after their break up, now felt charged with emotion. Everything felt too much – the weight of the online storm brewing outside, the secrets they carried, and now the disorienting intimacy of being alone together for the first time in almost a year.

"So," Harry began, running a hand through his hair – a nervous gesture she remembered all too well.  "How are you?" His question was gentle, his eyes reflecting a genuine concern that cut through the awkwardness.

Y/N looked away, her gaze settling on a framed photo on the bookshelf – a memento from a solo trip, a testament to the life she'd built for herself after him.  "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.  "Overwhelmed, I guess. Confused. This whole thing… it's surreal."

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry. For all of this." His apology hung in the air, heavy and sincere.

"It's okay," she forced a smile. "Don't worry about it. We always knew… there was a chance this could happen." Her voice trailed off, the unspoken words lingering between them. Fame had always been a looming shadow in their relationship, a constant threat to the fragile normalcy they'd tried to build.

"So," Harry began again, a hint of resignation in his voice, "about the PR meeting…"

And just like that, the fragile bubble of intimacy burst, and the focus shifted back to the harsh realities of their situation.

"It's not pretty," he admitted, a sigh escaping his lips.  "They're suggesting… well, the classic options. Deny everything. Issue a statement about respecting privacy. Simply ignore everything and keep quiet. Or..." he hesitated, meeting her gaze, "they suggested we frame it as being long-term friends, and that we would hang out from time to time, explaining me being in your picture.”

The options swirled in Y/N's head. Complete denial felt false and cowardly. A generic statement about privacy reeked of celebrity evasion. Ignoring everything was simply not an option with the way social media was imploding. But the last suggestion, framing their history as a friendship… it wasn't a lie, not entirely. There were a few months when friendship was the cornerstone of their relationship, before love had blossomed.

"That's… not the worst idea," she admitted cautiously. It would mean bending the truth, selectively obscuring the past, but it felt less damaging than an outright denial.

Harry seemed to relax slightly, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "It's the least harmful way forward, I think. Buys us some time while giving people a plausible explanation. And..." he paused, a hint of vulnerability in his voice, "I wouldn't hate having you back in my life, even as just a friend."

His words echoed in the silence. Y/N felt a pang of longing, a flicker of the old connection reigniting. Being his friend –a safe, public version of what they once had– was a tempting proposition. And yet…

"Yeah," she replied, the word barely a whisper. A wave of doubt washed over her. Could she do this? Could she see him, interact with him, knowing the depth of their shared history, and pretend it was only friendship?

A memory resurfaced: the stolen moments, the shared laughter, the way his touch had once felt like coming home. Could she truly bury all that and relegate him to the role of a casual acquaintance from her past?

Harry seemed to pick up on her inner turmoil. "I know this is a lot," he said softly. "And we don't have to decide anything right now. But…" a hint of hope crept into his voice, "would you be open to the idea?  Just… hanging out, as friends, and see how it feels?"

A sliver of guilt pricked her conscience. Saying 'friend' felt like a betrayal of their past, but it was also a lifeline in this storm. "Okay," she said, her voice stronger this time. "We could…try."

Unbeknownst to her, Harry felt a bittersweet relief wash over him. "Friends" – the word sliced through him, a constant reminder of the love he still harbored immensely for her. But he could see the hesitation in her eyes, the internal struggle. It was for the best –her best– he told himself firmly. 

For her safety, for his career, this was the path they had to tread, even if it meant walking over shards of his own broken heart.

The memory of their breakup played on a loop in his mind. The ache hadn't dulled over time; it had merely transformed. It was the price of his ambition, his relentless climb to stardom, and the cruel reality that success had made their love impossible to sustain. 

And yet, watching her swept into the spotlight, her name and face twisted in the cruel narratives of the online mob, ignited a fierce protectiveness within him.

He couldn't change the past, even if he wanted to with his whole being. She was his home, his whole life. She was the love of his life, and he had lost her almost a year ago.

If pretending friendship was the shield to protect her, he would wear the mask with unwavering conviction. It would hurt, every smile, every innocent touch, every conversation constrained by the invisible boundary they now had to uphold. 

But it was a pain he could endure, a pain he would gladly choose if it meant offering her a semblance of safety in the eye of this relentless storm.

"Look," Harry interrupted her internal struggle, determination in his voice, "I have to make a quick call. My team... they need to get the word out. An exclusive, a carefully worded leak… something to back our ‘long-time friends’ story."

A touch of bitterness edged his voice, but Y/N understood. It was the game they had to play, the reality of his world she could never truly escape.

Harry retreated to the kitchen of her apartment, his voice a low murmur as he spoke to his team.  Y/N sat alone in the living room, the weight of their decision pressing down on her. When he returned, his expression was unreadable, a mix of resignation and a strange hint of hope.

"All set," he said, a forced lightness in his voice. "The wheels are in motion. Tomorrow…well, tomorrow things will be different. Hopefully."

A quiet "thank you" slipped from Y/N's lips, laced with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. The weight of their decision settled on her like a heavy cloak.

Harry's gaze landed on the coffee table, where a beautiful, carefully crocheted bouquet of pink, white, and yellow flowers sat nestled atop fashion magazines. A flicker of recognition softened his eyes. "Hey," he said, his voice husky, "isn't that…"

Y/N's head snapped up, a wave of warmth and nostalgia washing over her.  "The flowers? Yeah," she admitted, a hesitant smile tugging at her lips.

"From that little market in London?" A smile bloomed on Harry's face as the memory came rushing back. "We spent ages arguing about which colors you should get."

Y/N's smile widened. "I can't believe you remember! I thought for sure you'd force me to choose the blue and purple ones."

"I almost did," Harry chuckled, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to contradict the carefully constructed distance between them. "But pink and yellow were always your colors."

Laughter bubbled up from Y/N, genuine and unexpected. 

The dam holding back memories seemed to crack, and a torrent of shared experiences flooded their minds. They reminisced about their adventures, a clumsy encounter at a local bookstore. They recounted the time they got lost on a hike in the south of France, ending up stranded with nothing but a granola bar, two green juices, and a breathtaking view.

Each shared story was a brushstroke, painting a vibrant picture of their past love. With every laugh, every playful jab, the line between friends and lovers felt increasingly blurred. The comfortable silence they'd strived for earlier seemed a distant memory, replaced by an easy flow of conversation that only years of shared history could create.

The familiarity of their interaction was both a balm and a poison. They'd fallen into an old comfortableness, one that both recognized, deep down, as a home they could no longer share.

The night went on, and the arrival of take-out momentarily broke the tension. The act of setting out plates and choosing something mindless to watch felt like a step back towards their agreed-upon boundaries.  

Neither spoke of it, the desire to cling to this stolen moment of normalcy outweighing the need to address the elephant in the room. The movie became a background hum, the plotline irrelevant compared to the unspoken narrative playing out between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them as the movie progressed. Exhaustion from the relentless stress of the past day crept in, their eyelids growing heavy.  Before they fully realized it, Harry's head dipped forward, finding a natural resting place on Y/N's shoulder. She stiffened for a fleeting moment before relaxing, a sigh escaping her lips.

Subconsciously, they shifted closer, years of shared habits overriding any pretense of detachment. As sleep stole over them, nestled together on the couch, it felt achingly, heartbreakingly like home. 

The outside world, with its prying eyes and manufactured narratives, ceased to exist. For a few fleeting hours, they were just them, finding solace in a love they couldn't bear to name.

taglist:

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @one-sweet-gubler @jjsgirlp4l @lovingmesstuff @gem1712 @tinyhrry @kipperthedog2004 @behindmygreyeyes @theekyliepage @winterrays @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @slutforcoffein @a-strange-familiar @grapejuice-rry @tranquility-moon @tpwksummer @awkwardbisexuall @ameerakane20 @harryspirate @that-one-little-soybean @voniikg @lovergirl42442 @daydreamingwithaseaview @harrysdaydream22 @lonelyxhabit @obsessed-with-every-book-ever @silenthappyplace @hesdebility @lomlhstyles @cookielovesbook-akie @champagneneen @tbsloneely @b-reads-things @awatt31 @walkingfromlondon @snorksquid101 @imtooindecisiveforthisshit @hannah9921 @moonstoneandmoonlight @renatavieira @harrysluvv @daphnesutton @oknothanks26 @satellitelh

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harrystyles #harry imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles series #famous!harry

[aestheteangel]

Synastry aspects that I personally don’t like.

before i start please read that I am not an official astrologer so take this with a grain of saltttt too haha. Just for fun.

North node square north node ( I’m sorry but each one lives in a whole different worlds, completely different perspectives, mindset, somehow not letting each other move to the next step)

Chiron in 7th house overlay. ( now Chiron isn’t always bad, but there’s kind of.. pain it gives , it’s not any better in other houses, but I’m saying romantically, there could be hurt during the marriage... if you want Chiron overlays in synastry please lmk)

Pluto/Uranus in 12th house overlay. ( now Mose of y’all know 12th house overlays arent so good eventually, but i think Pluto or Uranus being there could be harsher than any other planet , could indicate so many things, one of them unpleasant endings in the relationship, finding truth about something suddenly, betrayal..in worst cases you won’t be able to forget each other )

Saturn 8th house overlay. (Sure y’all know why..)

Mars conjuct Mc/10th house. ( uhhhh it just don’t give me nice vibes when both are seen in public eye. Could be arguing in public a lot, the mars person makes it hard for the 10th person to forgive them. Works even in composite chart )

Mercury square Saturn. ( a lot of judgements and misunderstandings)

Chiron opposite asc/Venus.

Saturn opposite Neptune. (Broo)

Moon opposite moon. (Now tbh Im not really sure of this one since nobody complained about it and it could indicate “slight” emotional understanding difficulties with each other that can also cause attraction. But I’ve seen this aspect with some couple that really can’t stop hurting eachothers emotionally . )

Another moon aspect, ofc moon is the first thing you should observe In synastry s, it simply represents how each other’s emotions play with the other. now moon square moon. Obviously most of y’all know why, literally each one is on different page when it comes to how they view emotions which makes it pretty hard to understand each other’s feelings with the square aspect. ( believe it or no I have this one with my man, even knowing it I’m still with him lol. yes the attraction is definitely there due to other loving aspects and also with this one, it gives attractive energy yes. but still, he don’t understand my emotions and my point of view, struggles with analyzing me sometimes or what I even think , even when I try my best to throw him an obvious sign about something, without me speaking, he don’t get it where everyone else does same goes for me 🤣😭. he sometimes thinks I mean something the opposite of what I meant. Bottom line is with this aspect you need to speak each other’s feelings and what you want to tell the other cause it’s way too impossible to understand eachother with no words spoken. 😓 AAAA THIS IS THE ONLY STRUGGLING PLACEMENT WE HAVE AND ITS NOT EVEN A SIMPLE ONE)

Mars in 5th house, ( Now this is NOT a red flag, bUTTTT i always read about this placement represents a “not lasting relationship “ and tbh every fling I had I had this placement with, literallyyyy very guy I used to dm or talk to even for a couple of days, attraction at first but then boom, you din yourself not talking to them anymore for god knows what reason lol, so there’s something interesting about this placement. 🤔🤣 ( pink for flings 🤣)

Mars 1st house.... ( uhh you know what? Wait for part 2 😛 )

But before part 2 I’ll make my next post positive I promise, I didn’t even want to write red flags placements because it shouldnt be taken seriously haha. So next post will be about .. hmm wait , what you guys want it to be about?

Synastry observations

Natal chart observations

composite observations

Solar return observations

— Y’all literally if u find one of these placements in your synastrys it’s totally okay lol, I have multiple of these w my man and tbh some of them don’t really play this negative way for us, but i just did them for fun , ofc don’t take these TOO seriously 🥰

#astro community #astro observations #astro placements #astrology placements #astrology tumblr #obsessed synastry #asteroids in synastry #d9 chart #elegant #expensive #astro notes #astrology #red flags

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

“I also personally LOVE the delusion of "Everyone we know understands why we're meant to be" because it's so integral to the entire point of the song” — THIS THIS THIS. Remember, that line comes after she admits that they’ve both told their friends separately that they’ll kill themselves if the other leaves, one of the biggest and most obvious red flags a relationship can have. As someone who’s had a friend say something similar to me in the past, I can guarantee that everyone most certainly did not understand why they’re meant to be — if Jack’s experience was anything like mine, that statement would have gotten an anxious laugh and an internal she doesn’t mean that seriously, right? The relationship described in little ttpd is neither healthy nor romantic. The narrator is trying desperately to convince herself it is, which is why she’s telling herself all their friends are on board with it when it’s not entirely clear if they are (notice that we don’t hear Lucy or Jack’s reactions to these very concerning statements — we have to take Taylor’s word that they understand why they’re meant to be*, and a recurring theme throughout especially the first half of this album is that Taylor isn’t always the most reliable narrator). For that reason I don’t really struggle with the “how could she write this about HIM??” feelings with little ttpd in the same way I do for songs like loml. Little ttpd is just a detailed accounting of what she’s summarizing in icfh(nric) — an unhealthy, rapidly failing relationship built on lovebombing and delusion. And I am totally fine assigning that to Mr. Smallest Man Who Ever Lived (said jokingly — obviously with the paternity test disclaimer and understanding that Taylor’s music is much more than the men who may have potentially inspired it)

*and yes I realize that all of Taylor’s work is technically based on us taking her word for things, and that even if she gave us the full conversation we would still be taking her word that it’s true, but I think even with that she’s still presenting herself as an unreliable narrator in this song and that the choice to leave out her friends’ reactions/responses was an intentional one

This was fantastically said friend and I so agree and I also think that this extra bit of Required Reading is perhaps why Poets might have such a higher barrier to entry for listeners and also why some of its earliest criticisms lose weight once you give the album its due and listen to it the way it was meant to be consumed - over a long period of time and with careful consideration to the context and the intent of the artist.

The album is too long and overly, unnecessarily wordy. Yes.

Some of the lyrics are super cringe and weird and awkward. Yes.

It's really gross that she's romanticizing being in love with someone who's not a good person. Y E S. YES?!?!?!??! YES!!!!!!

THAT'S THE POINT. THAT'S THE POINNNNNNNNNT! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And yes completely agree that while there's a precedent set that if you're listening to a Taylor Swift song you're getting her *biased* POV as in her version of events (which, tbh, her version of events usually goes reasonably unrefuted by people which I'm led to believe means it's typically close to right even if it's fuelled by her own biased personal emotions). But never elsewhere in her disco as we do on TTPD do we have to confront the fact that her biased POV is also a really fucked up one that she herself does not even necessarily believe but is doing her best to convince herself that it's true and good for her and right. And you have to be actively hearing and discerning and comprehending and analyzing what she is saying and how she is saying it in order to *get that*.

Poets inherently does not reward passive listening. And if you tuned out once you grasped who a song might* be about because you personally dislike them** you miss almost the entire point of what Taylor is trying to communicate.

#tss ttpd party #*paternity testing feminism art matters centralize her emotions not the person etc etc etc etc #**youre also allowed to do this if it gets you through the song / services you - the art belongs to you now! im just saying if ... #... understanding HER intent is the goal you won't get there if you ignore this piece

[sabahs-stuff]

Manifest appearance change. (Weight loss/gain)

(Success story)

❏First and foremost, Yeah, I know you shouldn't let go of your manifestation. Like detaching from your manifestation bla bla..

However, I have noticed that actively affirming appearance change is difficult for me because I love looking at my reflection in the mirror all the time. And I've to constantly remind myself to affirm. Every time I affirm, one of my inner voices started stating the opposite.

I weighed 47kg (I'm 5'3; I know it's the ideal weight, but I wanted to gain a little more). It was difficult for me to eat more. I believe it was about April 14 or 15. I decided to quit trying to eat more. I started to joke that I was gaining weight without eating,"are u kidding me? I'm eating nothing and also skipping dinner these days, so how tf am I gaining weight?" Some of my friends even laughed at me.🙂

Then, out of nowhere, my sister began complaining that I had gained weight, then few days ago I went to the doctor for a checkup, and they also measured my weight, it's 51KG now. Mind you, I skipped a lot of meals and wasn't eating at all. It was during the Mercury retrograde. I was quite depressed and saddened also someone so close to me died. But it took me like 10 days to gain 4kg. If that's not shocking idk what is.

So, this is what I did (•_•)

Reminder : "If you could make yourself believe that you have the exact appearance you desire, it would change"

Every time I ate, I told myself, "I should be dieting." And look at what I'M doing. I should start working out before it's too late. And that is all. Then I didn't even affirm anything during the day, ( I believe that if you make your brain believe that you're prettiest little creature on the planet and your existence is a service to the humanity then that's how it would be. And my toxic trait is that I believe my presence is a blessing to the humanity. (Sorry I'm a Leo moon can't help)😂

every time I looked in the mirror, I said, "Wtf? I'm gaining weight . "Shit, I need to diet." And trust me when I tell you at that exact moment your brain is going send you a thought "Stop lying; you're still skinny bitch"

But don't forget that you get to select what happens in your reality. If your mind wants to offer you lemons, make lemonade.😂

I said, "Yes, that's correct. If I want to lose my weight I need to affirm I'm still skinny" and I kept on saying "I need to lose weight or I'll gain more weight" just tricked my brain into thinking that I'm chubby and attempting to manifest becoming skinny. And I didn't focused on the end goal; I wasn't obsessed with it; I didn't give a damn about it, but whenever I noticed a little change, I freaked out as if something terrible had happened. And believe me when I say I freaked out it was Oscar worthy😂

I Remember, the first thing I noticed was that my arm was looking a bit chubby. I was screaming and even fake crying, 😭 "Damn this embarrassing, I need to work out, I'm gaining weight." I then searched and downloaded weight loss workouts online.

Trust me I was living the moment 😂. literally living in the end. It was easy at the time because my brain was literally blank. I had no feelings or emotions, so I fed my brain whatever I wanted, and it ate every thought I gave it. I'm happy with my weight now.

I'm now 51kg this is just a photo I saved from Pinterest but this is my Desired type-

Here are some tips:

Your appearance is constantly changing with your affirmations and beliefs. So don't doubt whether this is going to work or not. 

Your manifestation will take time, depending on you and your beliefs.

And about mental health, I would post about it later, but it's important.

The more you visualize, the faster it will become a reality.Visualise everything; literally, everything you want, VISUALIZE 🙌 stay in your head

The amount of things I changed and manifested in my life is crazy; it's different for each person. But it took me a year to fully understand manifestation. So give yourself time. Spend time with yourself; the better you know yourself, the better you'll get in manifestation. Best advice: talk to yourself (in your head, of course, or others would think you're crazy, lol 😹.)  gossip with yourself; if you want to be tall tell yourself that you're tall and stick to it refuse to let go. ✊🏻

Hope you like it. It's my first ever post but clearly not the last 😉 feel free to ask any questions. 🩷

#subliminals #manifestation #manifesting #law of assumption #law of attraction #desired reality #desire #void success #void state #mindset #mental health #affirm and persist #affirmations #affirmdaily #self love #girlblogging #glow up #appearances #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #love yourself #loa tumblr

[whizzinpast]

Lord, Give Me One More Chance

Chapter 1: Requiem

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Ivan (Alien Stage)/Till (Alien Stage), Ivan (Alien Stage) & Till (Alien Stage)

Chapter Warnings: Drug Abuse, Implied/References Non-Con, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Suicide Mentions

Chapter Summary: Till experiences an unusual chain of possibly unrelated events after the sixth round.

A/N: So, uhm, that Round 6 Behind The Scenes Patreon post, huh?

Anyway, give me your flower emojis below if you want to give that one design of Till in a black turtleneck + harness a big smooch and a fancy bouqet.

Read on AO3 / Prelude / Chapter 1 (you are here)

Till’s god died in the fifth round.

The last he had seen of her face was a beastly display of shrieks and torn Mercurian silk. Her long, lithe arms struck her fellow contestant, Luka of Guardian Heperu, hands clasping around his slim neck like a serpent’s jaw. She had beaten the man bloody. Sentinels dragged her and her wild tendrils of pink hair, kicking and screaming.

Then the stage was invaded. Amidst the red, flashing lights and blaring sirens, Mizi was taken out of the competition.

Ivan believed she was not dead. Till wasn’t nearly as certain. Heperu prayed she wasn’t— only so she could be brought back and have several holes burned into her skull, then have it screened live across the entire Virgo supercluster.

Regardless of her fate, something broke out of her skin that day. On the curated stage of a deceased segyein’s ossuary, something ripped its way out of her chest and left behind the dead skin of a depraved, grieving Mizi. Something too raw and too bloody to be worshiped.

Ivan knew it would not kill Till’s faith, but it was tested.

“No, no, I understand. As soon as the round is over, it’ll be off your shoulders. He can be very sweet, I promise, he’s just shy.” Ivan explained saccharinely over the phone. “Thank you. I wish you the best.”

His face fell as soon as he hung up.

Ever the opportunist, Ivan’s guardian sent him off to deliver gifts for Luka before he could make his way to Till’s containment chamber. Last he heard, Till’s hysteria was so loud he had to be collared, muzzled and accompanied by two sentries. If Ivan intended to keep his privileges, including his visits to Guardian Urak’s sector, he had to play his part.

And so, with his gloved hands clenching the package and flanked by two henchmen, he was driven to his guardian’s most sought-out business associate.

Guardian Heperu’s sector boasted a distinct luxury compared to Urak’s. Its expansive alabaster interior housed multiple floors exclusively adorned with trophies of diverse kinds. Ivan was greeted by a receptionist, who marveled at his absence of a collar. One polite smile and a compliment later, he was directed to the escalators.

Luka’s enclosure was at the top, a stunning cage of bone and glass. He was kept in a neo-Gothic chamber, with pointed arches and spinal columns holding up a dome of hazy glass panes. Ivan found him in a gazebo below the great oculus, propped up like a doll in a round, oversized bed and surrounded by cables and pale machinery. Against so much paleness, the bruises on his face can be seen from the entrance.

Ivan and his escort’s entrance was announced by an approving, tinkling sound when they crossed the doorstep. Their black attires broke the bleached monotony, capturing Luka’s and Heperu’s attention.

“If victory came at this price, I’d hesitate to congratulate you.”

Luka acknowledged his presence with a curious tilt of his moonlit head. He seemed otherworldly, as if he were never fully present in this world, the next, or any that followed—somewhere beyond reach.

Guardian Heperu stood by the bedside, his small mouth curling in displeasure. “Nonsense! All victories of the Alien Stage are bloody. This— this is—“ He vented all too eagerly, gesturing aimlessly at his prized possession, decorated with bruises instead of medals. “Absolute animosity. Unacceptable. Shine should be ashamed of herself.”

“All the more to perpetuate the true virtue of the victor,” Ivan said. “And all the victories to come.”

Heperu was pleased enough with his comfort before his bulbous, violet eyes were drawn to Ivan’s package. “You bring gifts?”

Ivan smiled cordially, then handed the steel box to one of his escorts so it could be carried to Heperu’s small, grabby fingers. He took off his white gloves, their purpose fulfilled now that the package was delivered without a trace of human contact.

“Guardian wishes Luka a speedy recovery. This is something you could use to keep yourself nourished and entertained before Luka’s next round. They’re the best on the planet.”

Heperu eagerly unlocked the box’s mechanism and peered inside. “Ah, Gara. Excellent, excellent! He knows how to sort his specimen well. I myself never had the patience.” He looked up at Ivan with a critical eye, and once again, seemed pleased with what he saw. “But you’ve turned out the finest I’ve ever seen. Are you certain you’re not homegrown?”

Ivan shook his head with a little laugh. “No. My qualities are my master’s.”

“Then your master has potential.” A bot was dispatched to take the package, so Heperu could fix the sleeves of his robe. His focus didn’t last long when his appearance demanded his attention. “Send him my regards, I cannot keep you here any longer. My child requires rest.”

Ivan bowed as he was shooed off by flicking gestures of Heperu’s hands.

“Poet.”

Luka’s need for oxygen was so desperate it sucked all breathable air out of the room. Ivan paused, and so did his escorts.

Mizi’s hand prints painted his neck a vicious pink. Heperu had the money to fix it before his next round, but until it was dealt with, it cracked Luka’s acclaimed baritone. “When should I be expecting your requiem?”

It was a better acknowledgement than his dull, absent-minded gestures— and a challenge. Ivan recognized it, and responded in kind, his shoulders squared.

“Soon.” He outstretched his hand in good will. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Instead of shaking it, Luka’s icy fingers took hold of his own. He pressed his lips against his knuckles, dried blood brushing against Ivan’s skin.

“I know,” he rasped, his blue lips stretching into a slow, sordid smile.

Ivan rarely believed in bad omens, but when he left the sector, he made sure to ask for wet wipes instead of contaminating his suit.

Till’s god died in the fifth round. The last he had seen of her face was when tin-cans gathered to keep her on her scratched knees and pointed a rifle at the back of her head.

Her dress was torn. Her fists sore. Mizi’s face was a twisted, alien grimace that showed the strained wrinkle of her skin and the vicious cut of her brow. Seeing her bathed in red lights made him think of Anakt flowers in full bloom, and it was terrifying. Till was terrified. Despite the distance, he could see it clear as day— he drew her jaw wrong. Not only the jaw, but the lips, too. The teeth. The eyes.

Ivan was right.

She was gone. Gone. Gone.

And Till was left all alone as a finalist, which called for celebration.

Urak rented a VIP lounge to a group of gold diggers. They lifted him up on a pedestal to sing them his woes. Till didn’t— sing his woes, that is. He sang whatever came on screen. They asked for Black Sorrow five times in a row. The most recent addition, Cure, seven. A mogul with two planets under his belt, whose name Till remembered only because of how it was growled against his neck, mentioned how he had more flavor than the previous reigning champion and the brand ambassador combined. Till barely processed that he was talking about Ivan, too.

Brand ambassador. Child protege. Model. Musical powerhouse. Titles spat at his face like he was supposed to know what it meant. Like he was supposed to know who Ivan was.

Ivan was.

He was.

That was it. He was; no longer is. What is— is a drenched corpse. Dried and cleaned. Displayed in a museum or hidden in the back of his owner’s freezer, right next to some bougie extract or segyein champagne. He was too expensive to be dumped. What is— is the white coat that Urak let him keep.

Urak’s associates laughed at his fortune, their spittle on his face, and pushed blue pills into his hands. No, it was the spindly one. The one on his neck. Karlak. He was no longer a mere pet, he said. Now, he could party like a segyein.

A dead part of Till, the one with the collar, would’ve told him to go fuck himself on a pike.

What remained of Till, the unshackled one, downed it like it was candy.

And it was easier—so much easier—when he was another famous acid freak, puppeteered by the bourgeoisie. Everybody could have a piece of him, the old money dickwads and the nouveau riche. Till was spun around, weightless, and brought back to the stage, where he sang and swayed for them. Even out of his mind, they thought he sounded like a fucking angel.

Till grunted, his pulsing temple pressed hard against the mic while he waited for the chorus, grasping ecstasy before it slipped through his fingers, like the blood, like the rain—

Ivan is— was— is—

Till’s voice cried out the lyrics and the room boomed. Thunder and lightning. Blazing trails streaking the sky.

Twisted freak. Snaggletoothed bastard. Handsome corpse.

Till knew the shape of his fist better than he knew him. He knew his dead-eyed gaze and the fake quirk of his lips, and the swathe of his pale skin plastered across every holographic billboard. Of course he wasn’t scared of dying. He was immortalized on every commercial Till came across. It would take weeks to wipe his image from public conscious. It would take centuries to wipe him from Till’s.

He walked off the stage and draped himself across some segyein’s lap, who offered him a shot and a pat on the back. Their claw ran through his sweat-soaked hair. In return, Till bore his neck to the room, and the room marveled, its walls sodden with blood and gold. The music smelled like booze, and Till could see cigarette smoke wafting in cloudy patterns above his head. His jaw parted so it could drip down his throat, his tongue curling for a taste, only to be greeted with nothing.

Bored, he stumbled to the stage and sang three more songs. Then he went back.

He tripped on something, and when he rotated, stumbling, he realized it was a comet-white corpse. Till went around it, and fell back onto a table with shatter-screams in his wake. White-hot light burned his eyeballs. He nearly thought they strapped him to a table to poke his skin again, until a spiked shell loomed from above and pincers clacked above his beloved neck. Something roamed across his chest, but Till’s limbs were made of rubber. His head lolled back over the edge of the table, and he flinched at how the room spun. Vertigo struck him. Curtains of pink hair covered the door of the lounge. A tall, anthropomorphic form phased through.

Somewhere between staring at all the unimaginable redness of everything and licking his incisors, a jagged sound crawled out of his throat. “Dead meat,” he laughed, “you’re all dead fucking meat.”

And then— a shatter.

The lounge stopped pulsing.

Groaning in effort, Till tilted his head upwards. Blood-soaked forms of segyein shifted around, and somewhere in the background, he could hear Ivan halfway through the second verse of Cure. Till’s head lolled around Karlak’s pincers to see what all the fuss was about, and was promptly disappointed. A tin-man. The same kind of one-eyed tin-man that dragged Mizi off stage and nearly shot her in the back of her pretty head. He could hear gargling sounds and some warbles. He didn’t know that tin-men could talk.

Its metal head swiveled to face Karlak’s hot-white eyes. Till watched as it stepped forward and raised its arm to—

—shoot Karlak’s skull clean through.

Till’s eyes blinked through the spray of violet fluids. Karlak’s decapitated body slid off him, rolled over and hit the ground with a hard thump, soft belly facing the ceiling.

Another deafening shatter rang out. Till watched with bloodshot eyes at the result. Colors. Colors spraying the walls. Blues and greens and yellows.

A massive indigo form screeched and stormed across the lounge, knocking over sofas. The tin-man blew a clean shot through one of their kneecaps, then another through their chest as soon as they collapsed. Their body skidded to a stop at the sentry’s feet. The room suddenly exploded with glorious, saturated colors, and Till’s hand violently twitched with inspiration.

The rest of the segyein scrambled to the door, clawing at the keypad in hopes of getting it open. One was dragged by the back of its uniform, smacked with the butt of a gun before its head was raised above the edge of a table— splat. Yellow. Its skull was battered once, twice, thrice in continuous splatters of neon liquids and marrow.

It continued. It squashed, punctured and melted forms like sculpting art. Till couldn’t bring himself to move. The show was too fucking good to be true. It only got better when the upholstery caught fire. That— that was when he started cackling.

This was his life. Nothing else could surmise it better: Till splayed out on a coffee table in a blazing VIP lounge, laughing like a maniac while a mad sentry masacred segyein to the sound of Ivan’s requiem.

He had to pause to take a breath and close his damp eyelids. His head was throbbing. When he opened his eyes again, the firey silhouette of the tin-man came into focus, bleeding black out of the gap in its left shoulder.

Then and there, in the center of chaos, was Till. Then and there, haloed by licks of flame, was the cold, red orb of the sentry’s optic.

A broad hand floated towards him, its fingers spreading to close his eyelids.

Till allowed it. He smiled for the cameras.

His body slumped backwards, falling into the familiar comfort of a black abyss.

He heard murmurs of rain. The wind’s whistle followed his descent.

Lower, and lower, and lower.

…

But the spotlight followed him, spearing the darkness to catch Till for one last show—

And Till had no other choice but to open his eyes to a pure, bone-white ceiling.

He screamed.

His hands flew up to claw his eyes out. To block the light. To fight it. To shut it off. Shut it off. He whined through ten minutes worth of mind-numbing agony before his pupils adjusted to the light.

It was a pain to look at, but Till could discern shapes. A ceiling, walls, furniture, floors. A pale figure perched on an old-fashioned, alabaster chair beyond the foot of his bed.

Till recognized him. It was the lab-grown showpony; the other finalist.

The bleached blonde ghoul sat with his legs up on the edge of the seat, his chin resting on his knees while he spun colorful sections of a cube-shaped puzzle. He was mumbling something into his knees.

Till felt something on his face twitch.

“Hey.”

Silence.

Till growled harder, “Hey.”

The ghoul’s, the other finalist’s, eyes snapped upwards.

Gracefully, he hopped off the chair, his white nightgown flowing as he walked, glided, to Till’s bed.

“Where—“

In one smooth motion, he laid his palm down and lifted his legs up onto the sheets, hopping into the bed right beside Till’s frozen body. He leaned in close and personal. Thick, pale lashes brushed against his bloodless cheeks. Up close, there was too many wrong things to consider him human. It was Ivan, but worse. It was manufactured humanity, copy-pasted until it was mere parody of the source material.

“Who did you see?” He asked in a curious, lilting tone.

“What?”

“Not what,” the ghoul sighed and that, too, was musical. “Who?”

Till’s gaze skittered to anything except his murky, champagne eyes. “Flowers, rainbows and dancing corpses. T’was a death parade and I was the only guy alive. Dunno. I was tripping.”

He stared for a solid five seconds before his gaze glazed over, and his mind went fuck-knows-where. Till forced himself to clench his teeth through it, and waited. The competitor rolled his neck. His blue fingertips tapped absentmindedly against Till’s new collar.

He didn’t tell him anything. He sat, he thought, then his lips pursed in a delicate, peeved motion before he slid off the sheets, barely leaving a wrinkle. Till couldn’t even form a sentence before he slipped out of the room with his cube puzzle.

And left him alone with the sentry posted beside the door.

Till released a long, painstaking groan. Nothing was making sense. Urak’s shindig was a blur of colors that still made him crave paint and paper. He assumed he spent his night comatose. The reality of his visions was too questionable to be considered reliable. In which case, why did the ghoul ask him about it? What was he asking him about?

Till’s gaze was drawn to the sentry. It barely differed from the one he saw that night. Same height, same white plating, same optic. Different optic color, indigo; two arms, both intact; and a less robust frame. It didn’t make it look any less capable of snapping a human in half.

Generally, they can’t talk.

“Hey. Tin-can,” Till nodded at it. Its head calmly shifted his way. “Where am I?”

“Heperu’s sector.”

Its voice was smooth and modulated, like a filtered human voice. The organic nature of it sent shivers down his spine.

“Why? Urak lost a bet?”

“Urak has been fatally injured in a surprise attack by the Human Resistance Forces.” It explained in an unnervingly calm tone. “Ten investors were murdered on his property, half of which was lost to bombing.”

Till’s silence was long and heavy.

His head hit the bed frame. The canopy above his bed was so clean and pristine it made him want to climb up and smash it open.

“How— how long is it gonna take him to recover?”

“A month at least. Guardian Heperu volunteered to keep you until his recovery.”

A month. A whole month.

Till couldn’t tell whether he should laugh or cry or both.

Something bunched up in his throat. He swallowed it down and inspected the room. It was so white he could’ve been in a medical facility, and yet, the hue signified more age and less disinfectant.

The size of it, the segyein calligraphy carved into the ivory pillars; the massive, pointed window showing off a view of the two moons circling their host planet; his canopy bed with white chiffon sheets and pointed arches— it was night and day compared to the kitschy indulgences of Urak’s newly attained riches.

This room had none of that. This room had history. It was old money, through and through.

“Is this—“ Till’s arm vaguely gestured at the room, “—mine?”

“This is your enclosure.” The sentry nodded, then gestured at the wardrobe opposite of his bed, an ornate capsule with rib-like engravings. “You can find some of your belongings here, although some of it was damaged in the fire.”

“You come with the package or what?”

“I was assigned to be your escort and bodyguard until the winner of the fiftieth Alien Stage is declared.” The sentry placed its hand atop the holster on its hip. “There is reason to believe that HRF will make attempts on the contestants’ lives in order to sabotage the competition.”

Gingerly, and with far less grace, Till slid out of the bed. He was barefoot, and the tiles were cold and worn under his soles as he made his way towards the capsule. He didn’t know how they knew what his belongings were. Till had never owned much in the first place.

The wardrobe clicked open. The contents made his face morph into a pained expression.

The sentry was right; it was all his. The sketchbook, a stack of papers clamped together with staples, tape and sheer force of will; the two pencils and a pen, one used to vandalize his first page with Ivan’s clean, blocky signature; a slightly singed recorder; and the coat.

Till’s fingers reached for it. The edges of its coattails were heavily singed. The three holes, rusted over with blood, were still there.

He clenched his teeth, shoved the damn thing back inside and slammed the wardrobe closed.

Till had nothing and nobody. No believers, no gods. And yet, Ivan’s death made him impervious to wasting his life out of spite. He couldn’t do it by overdosing. He couldn’t do it by giving in to a HRF fighter’s gun. His fate was in the hands of Alien Stage— again, and forevermore.

There was no other route of escape except one: a demonstration. Win and kill the overpriced pet or die by gunfire, or whatever the tin-cans decide to do after he slaughters the fan favorite.

He pivoted, then made a beeline towards the door with his heels stamping prints on the fancy floor. “Tin-can, show me around.”

The sentry perked up. “It is recommended for you to rest one more day.”

“Can’t,” Till said grimly. “I need to write a requiem.”

The sentry didn’t respond immediately. Its indigo optic flickered. It stared through him, beyond him. Till thought it would block the way, until it smoothly stepped aside, and grandiosely gestured at the door. It spoke like he was more than a mangled thing covered in weary flesh.

“As you wish.”

AO3 / Prelude / Chapter 1 (you are here)

#alien stage #alnst #alnst till #alnst ivan #ivantill #alien stage round 6 #alien stage fanfiction #whizz writes

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 7)

Somehow, these two last POVs turned out bigger than I expected. I think I can keep up the one POV change per day here before I post the full chapter on AO3, but I don't promise anything.

Also, I have plans for how many chapters it'll be! Yay me.

ON AO3 - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five&six

Till was... nervous. For more than one reason.

Firstly, he was getting ready for Mizi's concert. He'd be nervous enough to go to any show, since crowded places made him antsy, but this was a meet and greet. He bought a new jacket exclusively for this, and was trying very hard not to be weird about using perfume and generally dressing up for the occasion.

Secondly, he had Navi's number. He hadn't said anything after that first exchange, too awkward to try and make small talk but he found himself... wanting to.

He refused to let Hyuna send the messages, since she was halfway ready to demand to see Navi's ID. It was awkward but then... Then Navi had said all those things, about how much he liked Till's music, how Till deserved more recognition than what he got...

It made Till's stomach swoop, his cheeks colored red.

It reminded Till of those days when he had only 100 followers, when Navi would send 100$ donations solely to max the character limit as he talked about how much he liked Till's lyrics, how his mixing made him feel, how he couldn't believe Till didn't have a record deal yet.

After that short text conversation, Hyuna had changed her "bored office worker" theory to a "disillusioned producer", and for once Till was inclined to agree.

Still meant he was far from understanding why Navi would send him so much money.

"Till, are you ready?" Hyuna calls out, startling Till out of his thoughts. He gives a last once-over to his outfit, deems it ready, and goes to greet her.

Hyuna is wearing a black tank-top, cargo pants, hiking boots and a leather jacket he's sure once belonged to Dewey when he still ran with a motorcycle gang. She rolls his eyes at his face.

"Ready to go? We need to be in the venue in half an hour if we want to get in at a good time." He nods, checking that the clear bag he's bringing has all his necessary documents.

Tickets? Check. ID? Check. His first Mizi album and custom photocard binder? Check. A handwritten letter for Mizi? Check. Extra pens in case he or other fans need it? Check. A truly unholy number of phone charms he made himself the night before to exchange with fans? Check. He makes grabby hands to Hyuna, waiting until she puts all her stuff in the bag as well before shouldering it.

"You're such a mother hen." She says, grinning. "I heard we might not be allowed in with food, so I sent Isaac to get something from the convenience store we can eat on the way."

"Oh, good idea. He's meeting us there?" He asks, perking up. He really wasn't looking forward to surviving on granola bars for the day.

They end up meeting Isaac in the car, since he and Dewey are driving them and Hyuna wanted to re-touch her makeup. Isaac gets them both sandwiches, as well as a pack of chips to eat in the queue. He also gets two starbucks packaged drinks, black coffee for Hyuna, and caramel frappuccino for Till.

Luckily, the queue isn't too big; the meet-and-greet isn't open for a lot of people, so Till spends his time waiting by chatting with fellow fans, discussing the new album, and even meets one of his own fans, Mizi's Boots, who he remembers as an occasional chatter who mostly comes for his mixing streams.

She's very flustered that he remembers, but eventually they settle into some more normal conversations, Hyuna teasing them both about bringing so many phone charms to trade. He makes sure to put hers on his phone right away, since she takes care to pick one that matches his streaming set-up.

It also reminds him that... he has Navi's number.

He should send a message, right? Just to say he's at the venue. He did a few lives since getting the tickets, and only commented that he'd be going on the last one, so as to not give his fans any time to buy tickets to search him out instead of Mizi.

Navi had said nothing to indicate he was the one who sent the tickets, a simple "I hope hyung has fun!!" was all he sent.

He decides not to overthink it, and takes out his phone to take a selfie of him, with Hyuna in the background talking to a fan of hers. He hunts for Navi's contact.

You [ 4:44 ] On the line to see Mizi. Thanks again for the tickets. [IMG.7347]

He closes his phone, ignoring the flutter in his stomach to focus on the experience at hand. It's almost time to go in.

The queue moves forward,

"Chill, Till. You've watched these events like a thousand times on livestreams, it's going to be fine." Hyuna says, after they're already seated in the auditorium. He's glad his fan was seated far away from them, since he'd feel awful if she watched him losing his cool like this.

"Okay, but what if I trip and fall right in front of her? What then?" Till frets, combing one hand through his hair. Hyuna rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to tease him some more when the lights dim and a manager comes on-stage to announce Mizi.

Till immediately forgets his nerves, leaning forward to watch better. Mizi walks on-stage already waving, a radiant smile on her face. She's dressed more casually than she usually is for shows, with her glasses on. Her long pink hair is left free, bouncing as she moves to say hi to everyone on the first roll.

Till doesn't even see Hyuna settle down, focused on Mizi. She does a little QNA, pointing at people to answer. Most questions are pretty simple, like how's Mizi's doing, what's her favorite song from the newest album, favorite snack, and so on. She even calls on Hyuna, who asks if Mizi likes video games.

(Apparently, she's an Animal Crossing player. Till is so endeared, he loves her, oh god.)

After that fanfare, she sits on the stage, legs dangling closer to the first row, and sings My Clematis with her guitar. She thanks everyone, asks for five minutes to get some water, and the fansign begins.

Till has... a vague idea of the hour or so that happened between then and his turn. He knows Hyuna leans in to talk to him, mindless chatter about their streams and their next collab, about how Luka's workflow is increasing so she's thinking of paying for another chat mod.

In the blink of an eye, he's sliding on a chair in front of Mizi, and out of the hundred times he's imagined this meeting, he'd never have though of this.

She squints at him, tilting her head to the side, and says; "Oh, you're Till, right? The streamer?"

Till's face is so hot he thinks he's going to die.

#writing #wip #ivantill #alien stage #you taste the silver

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

#he makes me feel so emo #this life was never meant for you but your fate was forced #the way dutch (and hosea) talks to arthur like he's stupid will never sit right with me #like they've been by his side over 20 years they KNOW he isn't stupid because if he was he would have been gone a long time ago #not only is arthur incredibly emotionally smart but he's a trained conman vault breaker gunslinger horse rider you name it #the fact that his own adoptive parents break him down like that hurts #it's a manipulation tactic on dutch's end - break your victims self esteem to make them chase your praise and approval #hosea I believe has just gone along with that kind of attitude but in a different way he just likes to jest lightheartedly #arthur doesn't see the difference though and it's understandable but he takes it to heart #the worst part is that hosea sees through his tough guy act and has called arthur out on it #his act is a defence mechanism to protect himself from being too vulnerable - in arthur's mind #and it isn't a sudden thing it's very likely something that has built over the years given the life he has lived #and hosea notices he knows this #but they still jab at arthur #oh it hurts #is he your son dutch? or is he your guard dog? your personal workhorse? #playing through the second time is opening my eyes more and more #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mick squeaks #mick rants #mick gifs #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #liveblogging #you guys gotta understand - arthur seeks and longs for dutch's approval he'll never say it but it's the key motive behind his loyalty #and arthur *rejects* dutch's comfort #he doesn't *want* dutch to pat him on the shoulder because he knows dutch is digging them an even deeper hole #he doesn't want that touch he craves #it's so insanely monumental for such a small scene because it shows us how arthur feels without telling us

[a-s-levynn]

"Even if the sky cracks in mourning / And the heavens just won't open up for me" A Series of Small Offerings - II/12 - day20

#a series of small offerings #sleep token fanart #elaboration on this piece further down in the tags because this one may confuse people i think #(also please note that i firmly believe that the from the room below version of this song is the superior one) #(so the art was made with that version in mind because that is the version that lives rent free in my brain for reasons) #i've been thinking so much how to approach this one.. i knew pretty much since i've made the challenge that i will go with this line #specifically because i refuse to hear it as the lyrics sites and spotify tells me to hear it (as it appears in the post) but instead #i don't hear the 'the' in any version of the song i'm sorry that is just not there #so i'm convinced it is 'as the sky cracks in mourning' #(sky cracking-lightning;sky mourning-rain) #which is also exactly how the song feels to me #being a sad wet cat of a person standing bare feet in a strom and just crying 'why i was i so blind to my own hubris' #specifically in relation of finally (and far too late) understanding you fucked up a relationship so bad it still hurts years after #if you've ever felt anything remotely similar you know what i'm talking about #and you get why i refuse it being 'in the morning' instead of 'in mourning' #vessel i #vessel #vessel sleep token #vessel fanart #sleep token band #sleeptoken #levynn tries to draw #sleep token #edit: i don't mean to offend those who stand behind the line being 'in the morning' btw i just don't hear it #and i don't think i'm correct. i'm correct for me. not in your stead. half the lyrics can be heard at least two ways #edit2: appearently i'm actually right about something for a change.. a truly unusual turn of events #see comments for referrence pls #also edited this post to the correct lyrics #but leaving the tags for context 'cause thw original version of the post has been rb-d before editing i think

[the-lark-ascending69]

> be a robin buckley fan

> be lesbian

> project on robin

> look up "internalized homophobia robin buckley" on tumblr because it's cathartic

> 3/4 of the posts are about st3ddie or just about steve

#saw one in which steve was like ''no robin you don't understand! i have never been loved! i don't know how that feels like!'' #i have several grips about that interpretation #going from the fact that's not true (dustin is clearly a big steve fan + robin herself cares about him deeply) #to the fact he probably wouldn't be introspective enough to voice his emotions this concisely not to mention he'd probably wouldn't take #a moment to realize he's never felt loved if that were the case. i mean. he could think that. when he's like 35 and more in touch with his #inner world. 19yo steve can't even get the hint that hitting on a girl who's already clearly taken (nancy) is wrong so like i don't expect #him to be that smart #but i can live with people having takes i don't agree with. my opinion doesn't have to be everyone else's opinion if you see steve that way #it fine #what bothered me was the fact he was saying this to a lesbian living in the 80s lmao #who tells him that 1) her whole life has been an error 2) she doesn't think he'd want to be close to her if he truly knew her and 3) #3) is paralyzed by fear of social suicide if she dares believe for even a second that the girl she likes may like her too #like i dont need people to do deep dives into robin lore and quote from memory lines from Surviving Hawkins abt robin feeling like she's #rotten inside. not supposed to have friends. feeling like something is wrong with her and that pushes people away etc etc #the fact that she's a lesbian should tell you enough abt who has the biggest chances of being loved 😭 #also bothered me that it showed up when looking up posts abt internalized homophobia because?? where's the internalized homophobia therw #unless it's gay steve feeling bad abt it in an AU (as if canon robin didn't go through it) #like look im not bothered to find steve-centric content in the robin tag cos people are gonna tag her in posts mentioning her. #she's his friend. #but there are barely any posts at all about robin's internalized homophobia. like i saw 2 or 3. compared to all the steve or steddie ones #where's the love for my babygirl 😭😭 #anti steddie #not really but y'know i don't wanna bother anyone #edit: the bit about there being like 3 posts on robin w internalized homophobia isn't exactly true. there are a few. but they still feel #drowned in st3ddie posts #like something isn't right here

[coyoxxtl]

tumblr centrist liberals stop acting like voting is the most influential and important political activity you can participate in challenge

#me donating to mutual aid posts on tumblr and donating esims to people in gaza has done worlds more influence than any vote i ever did #people who risk their lives in protests do more than voting #i firmly believe that #this isnt a Voting is Pointless post this is Voting is the Barest Minimum #voting is easy. when there’s no outside barriers its so fucking easy. #you fill in a card and call it a day. its easy to feel like you made a difference when all you did is fill in some dots. #yall barely even follow up on who you vote for or even Care if the people you vote for fail you #its the perfect thing for weak liberals to attach to #treat it like the be all end all with activism and you have the easiest get out of real political action card #no need to get your hands dirty if you did all you needed to #as someone who DOES vote. voting is the easiest political thing i engage with. everything else is a risk. or at least a sacrifice. #voting is barely anything to me. i dont feel like i do Anything with it. but donating. making political art. THATS something. thats REAL. #i would go to big protests if i lived somewhere with them #like i understand. wanting voting to be enough. im a heavily depressed bitch who feels like they cant engage with anything big or important #i know tumblr is full of those types. yall dont want to do anything. yall dont want to be uncomfortable or upset or anything negative. #personal comfort above all else. thats what tumblr is. thats what centrist liberals are. there’s no real desire to break out- #of the comfort zone or status quo respectively. yall are scared to get Involved. and i am too. but with how current events are going… #i can see that i don’t want to be that anymore. i know i need to be more than that. its hard and risky but i Need to. #and so do yall. yall NEED to engage with activism outside of voting. or you’re doing nothing. #txt

[waywardtrek]

when i tell you that that level of observing your surroundings + weaving said surroundings into maladaptive daydreaming/intrusions/delusions + controlling and willing the narrative of your body into doing things based on fundamental abject fear is me to the fucking core, and that i have (actual, diagnosed) OCD and have always suspected glennis dennis presents many classic symptoms of OCD too, what then?

#iasip #iasip spoilers #dtamhd #dennis reynolds #what then? i will write a fic - that's what #i think this is part of why opinion is very split on this one - perhaps a mindset thing of being able to understand this level of obsession #maybe i'm projecting #but i don't fucking think so bruh #i reaaaaally don't like talking about my ocd #not even a little bit #it's THE most misunderstood disorder of all the disorders #and usuall misrepresented af across all media - fiction AND non-fiction #so when i see it potentially portrayed like this i gotta say SOMETHING dude #because it's a win #ps i think mac and frank have it too btw #which leads me to believe that there is at least ONE ocd person in that writers room lemme tell ya #and when i tell you it is THE most all-consuming debilitating disorder... whew... #dennis might have ultra-violence in his mind but he is a sad little guy who's probably afraid of his own shadow lmao #and wants to live forever in perfect health #and is willing to take shit to emulate opiods #and is trapped in a web of COMPLETELY his own making even though it started elsewhere #...okay maybe i'm projecting a little now #anyway the point is #ocd sucks #but it is also a gift #and that is why we love and understand these characters and humans #thank u for coming to my ted talk #if u be reading these tags then u ought to seek therapy too bruh <3 #also my ask box is open #ily <3

[actual-changeling]

.

#alex yells at the void #bpd is such a fun disorder and by fun i mean one of the most painful mental disorders to live with #sometimes i feel bad for projecting so much one ellie cause she will be going through it tm #but then again my therapist said projection is good and helpful so there's that #love being caught in the dilemma of tell ppl you're struggling and risk annoying them #and dont tell them and risk the same #like bestie my options arent really great here isnt there a secret third way #you wont get too much they say and then leave because i got too much like ok how do you expect me to actually believe anyone telling me tha #my therapist said it's fine and understandable that im scared etc. etc. #as long as i try to take good experiences as they come #but bestie i am very tired of getting like one good experience every two years and nothing but horrible shit for the rest #also very tired of passive aggressive bullshit and indirectness like if there's something bothering you just fucking tell me #dont be like my ex or my parents or anyone else ever #the world isnt all like that they say as if it hasnt been that way my entire life because the universe hates me and i dont deserve happines #i dont do diaries or journaling i just do vague vents in tumblr tags but it is what it is

[maddy-ferguson]

there's a post going around that says "“We need to strive to be more accepting of POC” you guys can’t even handle religion." and like. that's genuinely offensive to me lmao

#and like i say: brf slt #the word accepting. POC the acronym you couldn't even write all of it. again more accepting? just weird to me #and like...literally what. in their rb they say christianity and catholicism aren't the only religions when like...that's the same religion #so im gonna be crazy and assume theyre 14 or just kinda dumb.bc how are you not gonna make sure to be accurate in your big anti-racism rant #wait their bio actually says i'm an adult i promise. they're just dumb then #and like obviously there's not just christianity. i dislike every one of the big three equally because there's no meaningful difference #there to me...and i don't know enough about other religions but i would probably hate many others too because like...i don't like the #content but i also dislike just the concept of organized religion and also just think it's dumb since i'm not in it at all #and like. obviously you're allowed to believe in what you want and i think it's nice that people are able to have faith like i think that's #a nice concept. and yes religions are a big part of people's cultures (something the post says) but like...when you're not religious #religions are literally just cults that worked out but you're supposed to respect them because like we live in a society and it's sooo...😭 #like i also think believing in the power of rocks is dumb #i know all about criticism of a religion being racism because french people do it all the time with islam because they just hate north #african people/arabs and black people (but i think islamophobia is mostly aimed at north africans). but like. when people talk about #islamophobia being a real problem it's not about people disliking the religion it's about them talking about it 24/7 just because they hate #the people who follow it when like. literally how is christianity better!!!!! when they're like oh it's so regressive but they themselves #are everything they claim islam makes people (idk homophobic misogynistic etc) like it's very transparent. but you're allowed to not like #religions unless you know blasphemy's a thing where you live. and it's actually very easy to be against islamophobia when it's literally #just a manifestation of racism while not being fond of islam or of any religion. because like. common sense. but anyway #i UNDERSTAND where the post is coming from it's like if you think religion is backwards you're gonna think religious people are backwards #and that includes 'poc' or like saying a religion is backwards is something racists do a lot. but like wdym to be anti-racist #you have to not be critical of religion(s) that doesn't make any sense to me. like if religions are against my values. i'm not gonna like #them😭 'religion isn't just what your parents used to be homophobic against you' well there's a lot of people worldwide who are using #religion to do bad things i fear...the post's arguments dont make sense and i dont care about people believing in whatever but also yes im #gonna think it's stupid and wrong if i think the opinions they have because of their religion are wrong when people aren't religious. like #it's not a trump card. i don't even think that's what that person's saying. but like...there's no correlation between 'not being accepting #of POC' and 'not being able to handle religion'?😭 implying there is feels racist to me literally what...and the reverse doesn't work either #and i'm aware trying to stop people from practicing their religion is like bad and a way to get them to assimilate and like racist and all #that.but that's not 'not being able to handle religion' in a tumblr way it's literally just racism again? and idk just weird it annoyed me #and also i know leftists can be anti-religion in a way that's racist and paternalistic again i live in france

[darabeatha]

'King of braves' was such a badass title to give him im im im-

#;ooc #ooc #;c.amazotz #'if you do not believe me i will demonstrate it to you first hand' AUGHHHHOOHHHGGG #i dont tend to focus much on his lostbelt's side but i gotta admit that albeit his story was completely new #it was very cool #spoilers alert but basically theres like this ultimate alien thingy that wants to erradicate humanity and #its like turbo incredibly strong #and during that period of time; c.amazotz was the ruler of the humanity at that time and #bc this alien thing was so strong; all his kingdom decides to sacrifice themselves to give c.amazotz the power to #anihilate the alien; and its like 100 million people dying to fuse with him #this grants c.amazotz inmortality so he keeps fighting this incredibly strong alien for like 6million years #until he can finally wear out the alien and end up sealing it #so he has to fight constantly for millions of years all alone bc theres no more humanity left but him #and he has to live with this too; the insanity of all his people sacrificing themselves for him and the future #AHUM; something like that #now dont ask me why this alien thing is there or what does it want bc i tried multiple times to understand what it is and to this day #i have no idea what the heck ort is but ok #i tend to pluck my c.amazotz from his lb counterpart bc i like reading about the context behind him as a maya deity #and bc this wasnt really touched much in his lb besides the name and the fact he is a bat god and lives in the underworld #same thing happens with i.zcalli/m.octezuma and with a lot of lostbelt characters #they are shaped by the circumstances in -that- world mostly #so its like; i view it as AU's in a way?? #lb servant and then the same servant but in regular summoning conditions