#it’s every song we’ve ever put lyrics of

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

This is going to be very long and sound a little crazy at first, and maybe a little mean but please hear me out…

I’m convinced that Taylor sometimes purposefully includes one line or multiple lines of poorly written or clunky lyrics in specific songs to make a point.

We all have seen some version of this with bearding songs like London Boy, a simple bop whose lyrics were immediately detected as sounding disingenuous, even with the general population (the locations she was signing about were the most touristy and too far away from each other to visit on the same day, etc, basically implying that she doesn’t actually have a long term local bf there that she spends a bunch of time with exploring the city with, etc).

But just like everything else on the album, I think she’s doing maybe a more in your face version of that. No holds barred.

So High School is an obvious example of this, with all of the early 2000’s hs imagery, she seems pretty blatantly to be mocking the idea the public has of her “living out every American girl’s high school fantasy” of dating the tall popular football player. With lyrics like “touch me while your friends play grand theft auto” (barf), etc, shes being clear enough that this is not a serious song.

This is the possibly controversial part, but I’m so curious to see what others think about this - I think another iteration of this on this album is the title track, The Tortured Poets Department. Hear me out.

(First, I want to reassure you that there are lines in this song that I really like and think are well written, like: “you’re in self-sabotage mode/throwing spikes down on the road” and “but you awaken with dread/pounding nails in your head/but I’ve read this one/where you come undone/I chose this cyclone with you”. And I fully agree with the idea that these sentiments are from Karlie’s perspective. Basically, when you take out the chunks I’m about to talk about this song makes way more sense and has a beautiful sentiment of undying love behind it - which makes the following parts stick out that much more!)

The first time I listened through the album, and this was the second song, I got terrified because I didn’t understand its place in the whole narrative and when I heard the first clunky line “scratch your head like a tattooed golden retriever” I got the ick. Then the bridge with no structure and no wit and no clever turns of phrase, no metaphor, just “you put my ring on the finger people put wedding rings on” and “that was the closest I’ve ever been to my heart exploding”. So over simplified and cheesy, and doesn’t sound anything like her writing, especially the caliber of her recent lyrics

I know art is largely subjective, but I insist there is no way that the same person who wrote Cowboy Like Me wrote these lines into her title track if she didn’t have a reason and a point to make. To make it clear that this isn’t a matter of genre personal taste, because I know CLM is a very specific sound and a style that music snobs often take more seriously - I love SO many of her candy pop bangers, they are infinitely more clever, articulate, and overall works of art by a true wordsmith than this. Karma, The Very First Night, etc are all a master classes in clever words and tight writing being tucked into an “unserious” pop song.

The lyrics I cited above to me sound like what haters believe her writing sounds like, even fans who make little jokey TikTok’s about her and make up a spoofy something to sing while in character - that’s what these lyrics sound like.

Im worried im being too harsh, but please stay with me because the more I think about the more genius I think it actually is.

In the context of the themes of rest of the album, (her being trapped, miserable, manipulated, ready to burn it all down, screaming to be seen) this theory became clear to me. I think she’s leaning into her public persona (in more ways than one, we’ve already seen it with the stunting), in a way setting a “trap” for her fans and the public, that will essentially call them all out on how they ignored the real her in favor of her pr narrative, making the album about paternity tests, etc, all of which I’m guessing will become very clear in retrospect, possibly after she comes out? (Of course it’s already clear to us now, which is another purpose of the beard songs including clunky writing - to signal to us that these are not serious and that she knows that we know that she knows (like Phoebe on friends lol))

Ultimately, this is (along with So Highschool) a classic beard song. When she writes in this voice, she embodies the most extreme versions of her public persona, not just the one she has cultivated on purpose, but also the one that people have of her that don’t know her (as she did in Blank Space), including those that don’t take her seriously - because her identity as a boy crazy psycho ex girlfriend is directly tied to people dismissing her art as vapid because, they’ve only ever heard her singles, they don’t know the full her.

That voice is the straightest, the most boy crazy, the most one note, and sometimes the most unsophisticated writer version of her that people have in their minds, including her fans - the fans that refuse to see her as a whole person, the real, that believe she is head over heals for big football boy, that believe “he knows how to ball, I know Aristotle” is a romantic line about how opposites attract, the fans that say they don’t “get” some of her most beautiful and well-written songs, the fans that don’t see her and haven’t been seeing her.

They didn’t see giant Taylor on the eras tour, they refuse to see all of her queer signaling, etc, and I think she’s making the bearding songs obvious to underscore the difference between her Taylor(TM) and Taylor(person) personas.

She knows that despite the fact that the lyrics don’t even come close to measuring up to the rest of the album, the public, and many of her fans, will make this song one of the most listened to simply because they are looking for evidence of her relationships from the past year. We’ve all commented on how insane it is that this layered, complex, devastating album is being reduced to the usual paternity tests. This is currently one of the top songs precisely because it is “about Matty”. And of course, So High School is one of the tops songs along with it because it’s “about Travis”.

The juxtaposition of the bearding songs alongside her beautifully written poetry of Prophecy, Peter, Whose Afraid of Little Old Me, Cassandra, How did it end, The Albatross, etc mirrors the juxtaposition of her two selves during the Midnights era.

She has proven the point that if they think she wrote every line of this song completely in earnest, then they see her largely no differently than her haters do, as a subpar writer who writes absurdly cheesy love songs praising trashy to mediocre, problematic men. By eating it up they tell her that’s what she’s good for, for being the subject of tabloids and warring fans who make this entire album about two (purposefully) mediocre songs and the men who “inspired” them.

She has proven her point - that a subset of her fans will be distracted by a lesser song simply because they think it’s about one of the greasy men that’s she been seen holding hands with. That they will ignore once again all of her pleas to be seen, that she’s in pain and caged, and has been driven insane by their willful ignorance. That they don’t appreciate her full potential and talent, that they don’t even see it, and just want to be confirmed in their ideation of her.

This song is essentially the “forget him(her)” pill at the beginning of the fortnight mv, but it’s a sedative for the fans, who are addicted to her straight narrative. Similar to Willow’s 13 chants of “that’s my man” that started off evermore, casting a spell of heteronormativity over everyone who wanted it, so that they could choose to just completely ignore the following 14 gayest songs ever written. Don’t pay no mind to her singing directly about women with zero male perspective - she said “that’s my man!” We’re good! She’s still straight!

Taylor in the fortnight mv had to a take a sedative to be able to go into the next room and write her bearding songs - ie she self medicates to deal with keeping up the straight persona and to get through having to release dumbed down songs to feed the masses. (I also see the pill as something forced on her, I think it represents both layers)

From the first time I watched the music video I thought the writing Taylor looked so miserable and the bearding songs are why.

In this room she’s trapped, churning out the songs that her fans expect of her, the songs that make her team money, the songs that make her money, but that she has to compromise her truth to create.

But when she frees herself she’ll burn the stories that weren’t true, the filler that doesn’t represent her.

I’m curious to hear other’s thoughts on this - have you ever felt like Taylor purposefully inserts off-sounding lyrics that are written in a different voice to make a point?

I want to reiterate that it’s not the entirety of either song that I think is terrible, I genuinely love bopping along to both So High School and TTPD (track). Like I said above, when you remove the clunky lines from ttpd (track), the song has another layer and likely gives voice to some Karlie insight that is beautiful and tragically profound. It’s the red herrings, the pieces specifically meant to tie this song to a bearding narrative, that I’m dissing, and the only reason they are suspicious in the first place is because I know how gifted Taylor is with the written word.

Taylor is such a skilled writer that she can embody the voice of the bad writer that dismissive ignorant idiots believe her to be, just to make a point!

I even wonder if maybe there is a second version of this song locked away in one of those drawers in the fortnight writing room that leaves out the red herrings and is a thousand times better than the bearding version we got.

I hope one day we get to hear it.

#gaylor #kaylor #bearding #closeting #ttpd #so high school

[mrchiipchrome]

Sunscreen

W.C.- 2 k

“Have you got everything we need? Sunscreen? Towels? My sudoku’s?”

“Check. Check and check. I’ve got everything we need Lee, and even if I did the other girls are gonna pack plenty of things. You’ve seriously going to have to calm down, we’re spending the day at the beach.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right, I’m sorry”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, my love. Now come on, let’s go.”

You put your hands on her waist, pulling her in for a kiss full of love. The beach bag is slung haphazardly over your right shoulder after you’d checked its contents as per Leah’s request. The two of you had been invited to an Arsenal beach outing, the last meeting before everyone shipped off to Australia for the World cup.

Releasing her waist from your iron grip, you walk out the door side by side with your fiancée but not before stealing another quick kiss from her usually pouting lips. You unlock the car for Leah remotely as you lock up the house, triple checking that your house was locked up before joining Leah in the car. Settling into the driver's seat, you lean back and put the bag in the backseat before putting the key in the keyhole and starting the engine. 

With one hand on the wheel and one on the back of Leah’s headrest, you look through the back window as you maneuver your way out of the driveway. Leah can’t resist pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin of your neck, resulting in you stopping your movements entirely too distracted by the affection from your favorite person.

Waking from your slight trance, you continue your earlier actions of backing out. DJ Williamson makes her appearance as she connects her phone to the aux and starts to play the playlist she made specially for the two of you, made up of your shared favorite songs and lyrical pieces.

Jamming out, you’ve driven about half of the journey when the music gets cut off and the sound of someone calling replaces it. Seeing the face of a certain Irish captain paired with ‘Leprechaun 🇮🇪🍀’ clues you in to who’s calling you. Accepting the call you are instantly met with the screaming voice of Katie Mccabe floating around the air of the enclosed space of the car.

“Ey! Where are ya? We’ve been here for a while now”

“My dear Katie, we’re there in like 10 minutes don’t you worry. Did you manage to drag Ruesha with you?”

“I sure did” You hear the sound of the phone being passed through the speakers in the car, enforcing every little sound coming from the other end of the phone.

“You asked for me, darling?”

“Rue, my love! How you doing? Been missing you, yeah” You and Ruesha had clicked as soon as you had met and became best friends faster than the Flash could run, ever since then you’ve been calling each other pet names for fun. What made it even more fun was how your partners hated it, your favorite activity outside of football was to annoy them two.

“Been dealing with my crybaby, but otherwise I’ve been alright darling. How about you? How’s it been dealing with Grumps?” Snorting at the nickname Ruesha’s given Leah, you can feel her glare burning into the side of your face.

“Leah’s been much less grumpy since I proposed, maybe you should take a page out of my book and pop the question to Katie so she’ll stop being so feisty.” The words falling from your lips are words you know are going to come into fruition within the next couple weeks, Ruesha having told you her plans as soon as you told her yours.

A ‘hey!’ comes from the background of the call, Katie clearly having heard your comment on her feistiness.

“Right, we’re pulling in now so we’ll see you soon.” Surprisingly it’s not you who speaks this time, instead it’s Leah who ends the call when she’s done.

After you’ve put the car in a parking space and turned off the engine, you reach over and open the compartment in front of Leah’s legs, pulling out a roll of sports tape to put over her engagement ring so that she won’t lose it. Taking her left hand into yours, bringing it up to your lips to kiss the back of it before placing kisses to her fingertips with the same tenderness you always have with her. Pulling off a bit of the tape, you put the thin strip of the sticky material over the silver band sitting prettily on her slender finger.

“Like that. I did a pretty good job, right?” The kiss she presses to your lips serves as confirmation and you sigh contentedly into the passionate kiss. Leah takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into the opening between your lips, exploring your mouth like she’s done so many times before. Swiftly pulling away from her addictive lips is harder than you would think it would be, and the whine that leaves her kiss swollen lips has your knees weak.

“Lee, we’ve gotta go and join the others no matter how much I want to let this play out.”

“Let’s go then.”

Exiting the car, you pluck the bag from the back seat before locking the car and joining Leah where she’s stood near the front of it. Taking her hand in yours again, you two walk in the hot sand towards the placement of the group of footballers. 

When you finally arrive at the group, you hand Leah the picnic blanket you brought to sit on. She places it over the burning hot sand before taking the bag from your practically vibrating form, knowing how excited you were to get in the water and play with the teammates who were as ‘mature’ as you. Pulling your shirt over your head, you expose the bathing suit that had been hiding under the article of clothing, and the friends surrounding you let out a few whistles.

“Bye, babe” Trying to slip away into the water before Leah makes you put on the suffocating sun lotion, you get about 1 meter before she realizes what it is you’re trying to do.

“Wait Y/n! You really didn’t think that I would forget right?” Gesturing for you to come back, you let out a low grumble before returning to her now sitting form ready to be smothered in sunscreen. You look on as she squirts the lotion into her palm before she dips her right index and middle finger into the puddle and takes your face between two of her fingers. Tapping her fingers all over your face, she leaves behind tracks of white that are going to be blended out within a short while. When she decides that the blobs are spread out evenly enough, she starts to rub it around and effectively blends it out. Moving on to your neck, she takes what’s left of the puddle in her hand and smears it all over your neck before motioning for you to turn around so that she can repeat the process on your back. Her fingers massage the sunscreen into the skin of your back and you have to bite down on your lip to prevent the groan from escaping the vicinity of your throat.

A short time later, the entirety of your body has been sun lotioned and it’s your time to return the favor of covering the difficult parts to reach. Watching carefully as Leah takes her shirt off, you swear you’re in heaven as you see her abs flex with her movements. As she lays down on her stomach, you put the cold liquid directly on her back instead of your hand before spreading it evenly over every strong and incredibly visible muscle. When you’re done, you give her a light tap on the bum to show her that you’ve completed the task before you hand her the tube of sunscreen, ready to take off towards the water. She turns around to give you a kiss before you’re allowed to run down to the waves.

Half an hour later is when you start missing your girl, walking up to her with water dripping all over the place from your body. Leah’s laying on the blanket, eyes closed as she’s obviously tanning lightly. You get the perfect idea when you notice that she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence coming up to her, but like always Leah knows you better than anyone meaning she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Don’t you dare, Y/n.”

“Do you have eyes everywhere or something?” Your voice is filled with disbelief as you question her.

“No you’re just really predictable” She tells you while throwing one of the towels at your still dripping body.

“As much as I want to contest that, I know that you’re gonna win so I won’t even try. We’re gonna go play chicken fight, you want to join?” The question is more of a formality than anything, you know Leah just as well as she knows you. When she shakes her head you lean down to kiss her and hand her back the towel she had given you. Walking down towards where you know Ruesha’s sitting, you ask her if she wants to join in on the game, the two of you against Katie and Beattie. She agrees as soon as you say Katie, always down to knock her girlfriend down a peg.

Leah watches on as Katie complains about you pairing up with her girlfriend before both you and Jen go down under the surface to let the two women sit on your shoulders. You keep a tight grip on her knees so that she won’t fall off your shoulders. A countdown is started and as it gets to 1, you start moving towards Jen and Katie, and as the women on top of your shoulders clasp hands with each other trying to push each other off Leah hears a question coming from left.

“To think that you want to spend the rest of your life with Y/n is really sweet. Your relationship is cavity provoking by how sweet it is.” Caitlin expresses her feelings with the statement, and Leah can’t help but agree.

“She’s my person, y’know. I’ve loved her since I was little, there’s no denying that I’m doing the right decision by marrying her”

When Leah turns back to where you were just a second ago, she can’t spot you anywhere. She figures that you’ve just gone underwater again, but as she feels your cold and wet body on her warm and dry one she quickly realizes how wrong she was. The sound of her shriek has the entire team looking in your direction and seeing what was happening. As Leah pushes you off her and into the sand, you let out a loud laugh at her immediate reaction.

“I regret agreeing to marry you.” Her playful tone lets you know that she isn’t serious, that and the conversation you’d overheard.

“No you don’t”

“You’re right, I don’t”

The rest of the day goes by in a flash as you finally manage to pull Leah with you to swim with the promise of a shared shower as soon as you come home. You eat, talk and joke around with the rest of your teammates and when it is time to return home, Leah has to practically drag you away from your friends before you get reminded of your deal. The entire car ride home is spent in silence, tired from the outing with your friends.

The first words are muttered when the front door is closed and locked.

“How about that shower I was promised?”

Soon the bathroom looks more like the laundry room with all the clothes strewn about haphazardly, but you don’t mind in the slightest as long as you get that long awaited shower with your fiancée who you love more than anything.

Guess who's caught the flu? 😍🤞 (spoiler alert: it’s me) (no joke my body is actually in a lot of pain lmao)

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine

[dailytomlinson]

London recap

Louis showed up wearing a Saul Nash rib tank top paired with Saul Nash trackpants

Setlist had 22 songs

Special intro saying “London sold out! Thank you!”

Louis’ 1st speech: “I have been so overcome with emotion coming out here tonight. I don’t remember ever feeling like this on stage. Look at what we’ve fucking done! Look at what we’ve done! I can’t really put my emotions into words right now, I feel very, very overwhelmed, I feel very, very proud of what we’ve achieved together, together. I might even have a little cry tonight, who knows! Alright then, fucking ‘ell, we’re here, we’re here.”

Louis’ 2nd speech: “Oh, this is fucking crazy. This is crazy. I’m trying to find the right words, but honestly? I’m just… in awe of what we’ve fucking created. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t really have any other words other than thank you very much. This is… No, let me try [find the words]. I should try harder, this is my time at The O2, I’ll give it a go. This is… It felt like it took me— let me do it like last time [squats] It felt like it took me a long time to get here, a long time to get here. And even when I dreamt – and I mean this wholeheartedly – even when I dreamt of what touring might look like, never in a million fucking years did I think I’d play here. Never, never. I spent like the first 3 or 4 songs of this gig like– I’m always like this, and it’s fucking annoying; after every lyric, every moment, I’m cross referencing in my head ‘how was that?’ FUCK THAT! FUCK THAT! I hope you all feel as proud as I do on this stage tonight. Alright, before I fucking choke up, alright…”

Louis appreciating his band:  “London O2, let’s take a picture! [gets the band around him] But before we do, I do wanna take this special opportunity– [looks at his band who starts moving away] no no no, stay where you stood! I’ve spent the last two years or so touring with the most incredible band in the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you boys. I fucking love you, tonight’s for us. Give it up for my fucking incredible band!”

Louis’ last speech: “Alright, last thing, last soppy thing. I got something on my mind, right. Normally, in this kind of situation for me, this is too much fucking pressure man; O2, sold out?! You lot, unbelievable right. This might be the first time in my career – I might’ve bullshitted in the past right – this might be the first time in my career where I have been under pressure tonight, and I feel fucking great about it. I’ve said it before, but you don’t have that confidence onstage unless you know you’ve got the best fucking fans in the world. I never feel like I can find the words to ever truly thank you, but thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Saturdays light project: here / here / here

Closing: Silver Tongues

#171123 #louis tomlinson #fitfwt #fitfwt:eu #fitfwt:london #fitfwt:recap #this got look bc of quotes sorry

[babydollmarauders]

HITS DIFFERENT— JACK HUGHES

final part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Jack were in a relationship for 4 years before deciding to go separate ways, but everything reminds her of him and y/n realizes she’s made a mistake by letting him go.

specific lyrics: “i washed my hands of us at the club, you made a mess of me. i pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street.” and “they say that if it's right, you know. each bar plays our song, nothing has ever felt so wrong.” and “i find the artifacts, cried over a hat, cursed the space that i needed. i trace the evidence, make it make some sense why the wound is still bleedin'. you were the one that i loved.” and “i heard your key turn in the door down the hallway. is that your key in the door? is it okay? is it you?” and “i never don't cry at the bar. yeah, my sadness is contagious. i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car.” and “love is a lie; shit my friends say to get me by.”

notes: i don't know how i feel about this one. i feel like i could've potentially done better, but anyways MIDNIGHTS FIC LIST IS OFFICIALLY DONE! it's a month later than i had originally wanted to finish it, but it's finally done!

the reflection staring back at me is a bit of a hot mess. mascara smudged, hair tousled, lipstick fading. i stare in the mirror until i feel the sting of the hot water on my hands, pulling them back with a hiss of pain. the alcohol running through my veins helps me avoid overthinking about this dingy club bathroom, my shoes sticking to the floor with every step. but the buzz does nothing to help with the thoughts that run through my mind when i hear the song that’s blasting from the speakers throughout the club.

“y/n/n, you good?” my head snaps over to Marie, her upper body peeking in through the bathroom door. one look at me makes her sigh. “you’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“it’s our song.” i explain, as though she hasn’t heard the same excuse at every other bar we’ve been to in the past six months.

“i know it is, hun.” she gives me a pitiful smile, fully entering the grimy bathroom in order to grab my hand.

“it just feels so wrong hearing it without him.” tears well up in my eyes, my heart hurting just a little extra.

“let’s go get you another drink.” i give a numb nod in response, letting her lead me to our other friends that sit in a booth by the bar. at the sight of my state, they both give each other an unspoken glance before giving me a look of pity.

“i ordered you another tequila sunrise.” Beth tells me, sliding the drink towards me. i drop into the booth, muttering a short ‘thanks’ before gulping at the drink.

“lay it on us, babe. what’s on your mind tonight?” Lisa pipes up, sipping at her own drink and raising a brow at me.

“i just— they say that if it’s right, you know. and i thought we were right. but, it makes no sense because why didn’t i know until we broke up? i mean, i knew. obviously i knew, i followed him here from Michigan. but, i didn’t know know until we separated, ya know?”

“i’m gonna be honest, i only understood maybe half of what you just said.” Lisa says, making Beth and Marie giggle. “but love is a lie, y/n/n. sure, you can like someone enough to be with them for a long time, but romantic love? complete bullshit. it doesn’t exist. this isn’t the movies.”

“she’s right. and the quicker you realize that, the quicker you’ll get over him.” Marie nods, pointing at Lisa as she speaks while Beth hums in agreement.

“i don’t know if i’ll ever get over him. i love him. i miss him.” i whine. “i want him back. i don’t wanna be here. i want Jack.”

“alright, maybe it’s time we get you back home.” Beth sighs, tapping her thumbs on her phone. ordering an uber, i assume.

“i don’t wanna go home. i wanna see Jack.”

“you can’t see Jack, y/n. you’re drunk, and you guys broke up.” Marie pats my shoulder, helping me out of the booth and out of the club, the other two girls following behind us.

i continue mumbling to myself, my words slurred, and i’m eighty percent sure that the only actual audible word was my ex’s name.

“c’mon, hun. watch your head.” Lisa coos, helping me into the uber. “we’ll see you on tuesday, babe. get some sleep.”

Marie and Beth call out some goodbyes before Lisa shuts the car door, she motions for the guy up front to lower his window, whispering something to him before he starts off towards my house.

“would it be too late to ask to change the drop off location?” i ask him, anxiously playing with the strap of my purse as i speak.

“i’m sorry, ma’am. your friend just told me you might ask that. she said i’m under strict orders to take you straight to the predetermined destination.” i heave out a deep breath, slumping back into the seat of the car.

it doesn’t take too long to get to my apartment complex, muttering a ‘thank you’ to the man before sliding out of the vehicle and making my way up to my apartment. as soon as i make it into the apartment, i bee-line for my bedroom, stripping out of my club outfit and changing into some leggings and a tank top. i wipe off my makeup and throw my hair up before entering my closet. my sights set on the old USA Hockey sweatshirt on my shelf, i hop up, reaching for the article of clothing. however, as soon as i pull it down, something else comes tumbling down with it, falling to the floor in front of me.

slipping the sweatshirt on, i bend down to pick up the fallen item. holding it, tears prick the backs of my eyes as i realize what it is, Jack’s hat. his New York Yankees hat to be exact. my heart aches remembering the times he wore it. our Yankees game, date nights, even just lounging around the house. clutching the hat to my chest, i sink to the floor, sitting criss cross as i cry.

space. why did i think i needed space? i got plenty of space when he was always gone for roadies. fuck space. i just want him. my fingers trace the Yankees symbol, my tears falling down onto the dark blue fabric. why does it still hurt so bad? it’s been six months.

i know it may not help that i’m still in the same apartment we shared. every piece of this home reminds me of him. but it’s been much too hard to move. i tried looking at other apartments, but nothing felt as right as this one. i’m not ready to give up the last piece i have of the one i love.

too busy crying on the closet floor, i barely hear the lock on the front door turning. my head snaps up at the sound, trying to remember which of my friends have spare keys. Marie, Beth, and Lisa are the only ones, but i just left them. that only leaves two other options, Quinn or Jack. but, that i’m aware of, Quinn is still in Vancouver. i know he doesn’t have another game in New Jersey until next month. which only leaves Jack. i try not to get my hopes up, but i can’t help but wonder if it’s him, if he’s come back. the chances are slim. it’s been six months, why would he come back now?

i come to the decision that it’s probably Marie checking up on me. probably worried about the way i was when we parted not that long ago. it wouldn’t be the first time she’s checked on me.

footsteps thump against the wooden floors, getting closer to the bedroom, and i huddle further into the closet, hoping Marie will just leave me alone. tears still stream down my face as i clutch the hat closer to my chest, letting out silent sobs.

“y/n?”

that’s not Marie.

too exhausted, i opt out of leaving the closet, not even able to get myself to speak without being racked with sobs. i sniffle as i hear him pass the closet, the footsteps stop for a moment before i hear them start again, getting closer to the cracked open closet door. i don’t bother looking, fully believing that at this point i’m a mix of drunk and sleep deprived, just hearing things that aren’t there. i wipe at my eyes but the tears keep coming. i shift to bring my knees to my chest, the hat now gripped in my hands in front of me.

“oh, baby.” i hear from behind me before a body drops down beside me on the floor, pulling me into them. his cologne fills my senses, my face buried into his chest. the scent fills me with melancholy, memories of when he used to hold me close and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. comforting me. making me feel at home within his arms.

“it’s okay.” as if i summoned the whispers with my thoughts, his breath fans across my ear. “i’m here. i’ve got you. i’m right here.”

his reassurances calm me just slightly, but the real help is when he splays a hand along my chest, taking deep breaths. muscle memory takes over as i mimic his breathing.

“what are you doing here?” i ask once i’ve finally calmed enough to speak. i wipe at my nose with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, finally looking up into the blue eyes that peer down at me.

“Beth called me.” he whispers.

“she did?”

“yeah. she told me you’re not doing okay.” he confesses. “she didn’t tell me much more than that. just that she’d really appreciate if i checked on you.”

“you came over here in the middle of the night just to check on me?” i question. “you have a game tomorrow. you should be sleeping.”

“you’re a lot more important than a game.” his hand moves from my chest to cup my jaw. “i told you i would always be here for you, y/n. i meant it.”

“but, we broke up. i didn’t think you cared anymore.” a lone tear drops from my right eye as i speak.

“i’ll always care about you. i don’t think i can ever stop. i love you, y/n/n. and i know you said you wanted space, and i respected that, but i told you when we broke up that i would be here when you decided you were ready.” he pauses, his eyes scanning my face before he continues speaking. “and now i really hope you’re ready because these past few months have been hell without you.”

“i made a mistake. i don’t want space. i want you. you’re the only thing i’ve wanted since i was seventeen.” my voice is barely above a whisper, scared for his response.

“you have me. i’m right here.” his eyes jump between my own and my lips three times before he leans down. i meet him halfway, our lips pressing together in a slow kiss. gentle passion and love radiates between us, his hands cupping my face as mine grip the nape of his neck as if he'll disappear from my hold.

pulling away, his forehead leans against mine. my breath catches in my throat at the sight of the smile gracing his lips. a smile of my own spread across my face and i crane my neck to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"i missed you so much." i admit. "moving on from boys in high school was so easy, but the heartbreak hit different this time."

"that's how you know it's real. we're real. there's no moving on from us." he tells me. "at least, not for me."

he pulls me in tighter against him, crashing his lips against mine once more, and i feel content again, my life being fixed with such a simple motion.

#midnights fic list #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #faithlynn’s writings <3 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurb

[leejenowrld]

I HAVE QUESTIONS!!!

for yn and jeno

- what songs do you dedicate to each other? like what songs do you think of when you think of the other?

- is there anything you regret (sexually?)

- how does it feel when you see the other upset and mad?

- do you get along with each others friends?

- who’s louder in bed?

- jeno, what’s your opinion on what seoyeon did to yn that one time?

-

<3333 i love this

what songs do you dedicate to each other?

yn - i love you by little mix. it’s a strong love ballad. i really resonate with the lyrics. it’s emotional, it’s powerful, it makes me happy, it makes me cry, it gives me life. the song perfectly encapsulates what it’s like to love lee jeno and what it feels like to be loved by him

jeno - here with me by dVvd, i don’t care what happens in my life, as long as i’m with yn then it’s all that matters. i just want her by my side, with me. we belong with each other.

(jeno) nothing on you by bruno mars, i wanna be yours, moments by one direction,

(yn) pretty boy the neighbourhood, style by taylor swift, glue song by beabadoobaee

is there anything you regret sexually?

yn - hm, i mean, not really? we always have fun and we always talk about what we should explore/what we liked and what we didn’t really like.

jeno - fuck no.

how does it feel when you see the other upset/mad?

yn - jeno gets upset very rarely. i’ve seen him cry like 3 times in the years we’ve been together. and each time killed me. if i think about it now then i will sob. you know that something hits jeno hard when it causes him to cry. all i could do was comfort him and hold him as he sobbed into my shoulder :( he cried himself to sleep all three times. i tried to hide my tears from him and not show him that i was getting upset but we ended up crying to each other all 3 times :( i want nothing in the world to ever hurt my man. like i will become violent at anyone or anything that makes him feel that way

and when he’s mad? oh he gets mad a lot. it’s not that difficult to calm him down for me, i’ve become quite good at it. i sit attentively and listen to him as he lets it out and then i actively calm him down, kisses on his temple, holding his hands, rubbing his shoulder, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, whispering softly to him. it’s all the small things that calms him down. he becomes very overwhelmed with anger and it’s gotten him into many fights, verbal and physical. he isn’t afraid to defend what’s right and that’s what i love about him, his priorities are so strong <3 there hasn’t been a time where he’s been in the wrong or he’s picked a fight for the wrong reasons. he doesn’t ever pick them. he’s mature.

jeno - yn gets quite sad and emotional, she probably cries in my arms every week and it hurts me every single time. she’s very sensitive and i don’t wanna call my girl weak but she takes a lot of things to heart, she feels everything and she feels it a lot. she can’t deal well with confrontation or any sign of misunderstandings and she just bursts open in my arms and lets everything out :( when she’s upset she begins hyperventilating and sobbing really loudly, she can’t get her words out and she shakes. so the first thing i do is drop everything for her and just hold her, put her in my arms, massage her hair, kiss her forehead, look into her eyes and whisper sweet things to her. i just wait for her to calm down before we start talking. it takes a while sometimes, sometimes she’s able to recover quickly. whichever one it is, i’m always so proud of her. she’s so strong. we always talk about what’s on her mind and what’s made her upset and i try my best to guide her through it and help her on what she has to do, i try to give her good advice. i’m so endlessly proud of her. she just has a big heart and gets overwhelmed a lot. i wish i could take away her pain.

jeno - my girlfriend doesn’t get mad, she has so much patience, more patience than i will ever have. but she can get snappy when she’s stressed and under high pressure. it’s okay though, it’s nothing serious. 9/10 she will always come into my arms and kiss me all over my face and apologise for being snappy with me

do you get along with each others friends?

yn - yeah! i love them. at first i was really shy and they all probably thought i was anti social. i’m sure they wasn’t too keen on me but i hope i’ve changed their minds :) they’re chill and good company, they make jeno happy and that’s all that matters. they’re incredibly caring and protective too. i’m someone who gets suffocated in the presence of others but none of jenos friends make me feel that way :)

jeno - yn has like… maybe three friends and one of them is me 😭 i’m joking. yn’s main friend is heejin and i do love her. mainly after seeing how good of a friend she is to yn. she always protects and defends her and she makes my girlfriend happy. yn has a habit of not defending herself, she lets people shit on her and treat her like crap but heejin always fights for her and it warms my heart. she fights back to all the girls who are so unnecessarily rude and bitchy to yn. once she punched seoyeon in the face and wow… i’m glad because she does things that i can’t do

who’s louder in bed?

yn - definitely jeno

jeno - what the fuck? it’s you

yn - [shakes her head] jeno doesn’t try to be quiet. he wants everyone to hear. it’s a kink i think. he says the dirtiest of things at the top of his lungs

jeno - it’s 100% yn. she will scream at the top of her lungs all night long. she will scream daddy, baby and jeno the most. even when she’s tired and so fucked out of her mind she still forces herself to have the energy to scream one more ‘JENO’ or ‘DADDY!!’

yn - he doesn’t care who hears or sees him, that’s why he always fucks me in the living room or in public, he wants people to see.

jeno - says the girl who rode my dick on the train home

yn - there was like one other person in the carriage and she was old and blind anyways!

jeno - well she wasn’t death, she could hear you moaning ‘daddy’

#jeno fluff #jeno smut #jeno x reader #fic my first and last #nct jeno #jeno imagines #jeno moodboard #nct #nct 127 #jeno #nct lee jeno #nct dream jeno #nct new team #nct x reader #nct u #nct imagines #nct dream #nct smut #nct scenarios #jeno texts #lee jeno #jeno icons #nct icons #fic mfal #mfal jeno #mfal yn #mfal ask jeno #mfal ask yn #mfal facts

[wellgoslowly]

obsessed w the idea that lockwood is a serial music listener and he can’t do literally anything without headphones. even better idea is that he listens to a wide variety of music and any time he hears lyrics that he relates to lucy or that remind him of lucy he has to stop whatever he’s doing to write them down. keeps most of them in a box in his desk but some of them he hangs up.

ofc i’m gonna tell you some of the ones he hangs up don’t even worry about it.

“if they asked me at the end, i’d tell them put me back in it. darling, i would do it again. if i could hold you for a minute, i’d go through it again. i’d still be surprised i could find you darling in any life. if i could hold you for a minute, darling, i’d go through it again.” -francesca, hozier

“don’t you dare make me fall in love with you. don’t you dare do something so cliche. just get out of my daydreams you’re an unwelcome guest, and stop making me miss you, ‘cause you leavings for the best. cause i just couldn’t stand having you as my crutch, you’re a simmering stove top i was tempted to touch. if you ever return it will burn me too much to bare, so don’t you dare.” - don’t you dare (make me fall in love with you), kaden mackay {he wrote this one after lucy left}

“when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. no grave could hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her.” - work song, hozier

“you said forever and i almost bought it, i miss fighting in your old apartment, breaking dishes when we’re disappointed, i still love you, i promise. nothing happened in the way i wanted, every corner of this house is haunted, and i know you said that we’re not talking, but i miss you, i’m sorry.” - i miss you, i’m sorry, gracie abrams

“i know a place, it’s somewhere i go when i need to remember your face. we’d get married, in our heads, something to do while we tried to recall how we’ve met. do you think i have forgotten? do you think i have forgotten? do you think i have forgotten? about you.” -about you, the 1975

[I AM A CERTIFIED MATTY HEALY HATER PLEASE DONT TAKE THIS AS ME LIKING HIM I SONT WVEN LISTEN TO HIM ITS JUST THE HC THAT LOCKWOOD LISTENED TO THIS SONG SPECIFICALLY AND THOUGHT OF HER]

#do u think george noticed and got him a notebook for christmas to write all his lyrics in #lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #locklyle #george cubbins #lockwood netflix #locklyle brainrot is real #save lockwood and co #the black winter #the hollow boy #the creeping shadow #hozier work song #hozier #gracie abrams #LINNIE HEADCANONS ARE BACK BABYY #wellgoslowly shitposting

[iwanthermidnightz]

Finally got a chance to write a few thoughts about Lana last night. She looked like a completely different person than she did just a few months ago. She dyed her hair lighter, had a stunning outfit and was clearly glowing with happiness and serving face with that makeup. It reminded me of vintage Lana. Arriving on a motorcycle was very fitting.

Lana headlining Coachella seems like she got a sort of glow and confidence back. Or at least she’s taking in this celebratory moment for her as an artist who has shaped pop culture for the better part of almost 13 years.

She has said in the past that shes not an entertainer, shes a singer. So doing Coachella may not translate. Those who get it, get it. To some, her set may have not hit, but until you experience Lana live and feel the energy, you probably never will.

This was one of the most put together shows I’ve seen from her lately that truly showed her range, her vast discography and ethereal beautiful melancholic soundscapes she dreams up. The vocals were amazing and you could hear them (mostly - there were a few times she had to ask Byron to adjust the volume). The stage set was complete and both Lana and the dancers seemed prepared to move around it and it showed. Even with the quiet transitions the prospect of what would happen next still hid in the shadows of suspense.

I do believe she wants to do her best at every show and she loves to see the fans. But don’t expect a high energy set. Fans know what they’re getting and they continue to sing every word faithfully. I will say there was room to add a few more songs with a beat lol, she’s definitely got them!

And don’t get me started on her bringing out Billie to perform Ocean Eyes and Video Games… just INSANELY AMAZING. The chemistry. I love how much they love each other. There’s a lot of Lana’s influence in Billie, and they really seem like kindred spirits.

And Jack coming out to perform Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have - But I have It with a stunning hologram of Lana and then he just leaves. Very on brand.

You have to watch with headphones and the volume turned up to experience her live band and vocals and really immerse yourself.

Also, the odes to her past in the video that played before ride and people screaming at certain parts— it truly captured the cultural impact Lana has made in the last decade.

Ever since Born To Die came out in 2012 she has shaped popular culture with her unique musical style and tone. Her voice and the nostalgic production combined transported us to another dimension and we’ve all been different since and you felt that last night. The impact she’s had.

While being one of the most influential artists and lyrical poets of our generation, Lana has often been overlooked for her contributions to music, songwriting and setting trends. She has been nominated for 11 Grammys, included several AOTY, she has not won one. I find that crazy.

Anyways, the last song was Young and Beautiful and after she exited on a motorcycle to a Gatsby-esque Jazz outro and fireworks… you know the vintage lover in me got chills to the sound of a transition into an instrumental version of Heartaches by Al Bowlly, and it slowly drowned out (you just have to hear it… saw someone say it was backrooms music — which not not true) and I love it.

So proud of you Lana! I’d definitely say to tune in again next weekend for more surprises 🤍

#just a few chaotic thoughts #lana del rey

[suspiciousmindsxo]

During the 17 years I spent with Elvis I saw him do many remarkable spiritual healings from his authentic self. Yet, none touched my heart like the one that I witnessed him do during a concert while on tour in seventies.

Part of my responsibilities while on tour with Elvis was to make sure security was in place at the front of the concert stage before his performances. On this particular evening, I went out on the stage like I had done so many times before.

Exiting the stage, I noticed a group of people in a reserved area that all of us on tour considered the “VIP” section. On this particular night, there was one young man in the section that caught my eye. He was in a wheelchair. His arms twisted in and his legs turned inward. In his hands he grasped a frame with the words to a song, “Impossible Dream.” I knew this song because Elvis often included it in his set. As I drew closer I noticed at the bottom of the lyrics in broken handwriting he had written, “My impossible dream is to meet Elvis Presley.”

This was one dream that I knew I could make come true. I walked up to the young man in the chair, placed a backstage pass on his shirt, and informed his parents he was coming with me.

I rolled him backstage to Elvis’s dressing room and told a policeman to keep his eye on him, that I would be right back. I entered Elvis’s dressing room where he was putting the finishing touches on his hair just moments before his concert.

“Elvis, there is someone I want you to meet.”

“David, you know better than that. I don’t see anyone before I go on stage.” “But Elvis, this is somebody special.”

Reluctantly, Elvis said, “Okay, bring him in. This better be good.”

I brought the boy into the dressing room. When he saw Elvis, his eyes lit up.

His disease-riddled body began to shake. With every ounce of energy he could muster up, he slurred “ELVIS.”

When Elvis saw him, he was so overcome with emotion he simply walked over, fell on his knees next to the boy, dropped his head in his lap and began to weep. Still grasping the frame the young man began stroking Elvis’s hair with his crippled hand.

This was the most beautiful sight that I had ever witnessed. Elvis had met politicians, royalty, celebrities, and spiritual leaders but in spite of all that, he was most humbled by what he saw in this incredible young man.

After a moment I tapped Elvis on the shoulder, leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Boss, we’ve got to go. You got a show to do.”

He stood up and regained his composure. “Make sure you take care of my friend here.”

“Consider it done, Boss.”

Instead of taking him back to his section, I kept him right next to me, assuring he had the best seat in the house. Elvis came out on stage that night to a massive crowd full of energy and excitement. He ripped through one song after another leaving the crowd begging for more.

Suddenly, Elvis turned to his music coordinator and whispered, “Impossible Dream.”

At the sound of the first notes, the smile on the young man’s face grew bigger. I had an assistant help me pick the boy’s wheelchair up and place it on the corner of the stage. Elvis caught a glimpse of this and walked over and sang directly to him.

Tears rolled down the young man’s face. His impossible dream was coming true, right before my very eyes. The boy held up the frame. It wasn’t until that moment that Elvis saw the handwritten phrase, “My impossible dream is to meet Elvis Presley.” He took the frame from the boy’s hands as he sang the last lyric, “to reach the unreachable star.”

In the hundreds of concerts that I had done with Elvis Presley, there had never been a time where the audience did not give a standing ovation after one of his songs. On this night, instead of applause, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of tears from 20,000 people dropping on the concrete floor of the sold out concert hall.

The love that Elvis showed that night toward that young man was as Christ like as anything I had ever seen in my life. In that moment, Elvis saw the perfection of this crippled man. What’s more, this young man felt his own perfection and saw himself as Christ would see him. He experienced Elvis’s gift of healing firsthand. As a result, his life would never be the same again. This was the authentic side of Elvis Presley that the public was drawn to.

Dream the impossible dream by David Stanley

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis the king #elvisaaronpresley

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I love what you said about LNT, that Harry is mocking his image in the media, and I agree with everything you said but by doing that vid won't it just reinstate the GPs thoughts on him? Imo he was starting to lose that image and that vid is definitely a giant leap backwards. The GP don't look into things and they don't think, they're going to see Harry in a bed with a lot of women and automatically think womanizer, and his team know this. It does seem really symbolic but I can't see anyone else picking up on it other than Larries. His team will probably campaign for AIW at the Grammy's so it's not the case they're trying to pull a WS. I just can't for the life of me figure out why they spent years changing Harry's image from womanizer to bringing it back. It's annoying because in the tabloids it is mostly people speculating on his sexuality and it felt like he was in a good place, unless his team thought he was coming across too gay so they decided to do a really het vid to keep the hets interested.

Hi, love!

While I get what you’re saying, I can’t say I agree, because I think it is about perspective.

What’s interesting with Harry’s House is that I think it’s Harry’s most layered album yet, and to me, there’s a running theme in those layers. The album presents itself as fun, easy pop that you can enjoy and digest without looking too much into it. But, if you do decide to give the lyrics more than one listen, decide to look at it from a more generous angle, you’ll find many of the narratives of the song are a lot deeper than people realize. (This piece explains that concept in a much more articulate way.)

Consequently, I think the LNT video explores the exact same theme of having an “easy” visual layer that is superimposed over a much deeper (although still lighthearted) commentary on Harry’s public versus private life. But just like the songs on Harry’s House, you have to want to see the satire in order to know it’s there. And I say it’s satire because Harry is so very clearly in on the “joke”.

He knows. He knows there’ll be people who listen to AIW solely because it’s a bop, knows that there’ll be people who buy the narrative of Cinema so quickly he doesn’t even have to sell it, knows that if, visually, you put him in a bedroom setting with a bunch of half naked people, there will be tons of people who see that and only that. And I think somehow, part of the message is that, he knows people will believe what they want to believe about him… so let them. He’s not bothered by it anymore because there’s a different group of people that get him, that get his real meaning, and that’s who he’s making music for. (He said something similar in the Zane Lowe interview.)

And it’s pretty brilliant, because if you look at the Harry’s House teaser, he already clues us in on those recurring themes — a theatre, the façade of a house coming down around him, being dresses like a doll, the theme of reversal, etc. The entire album can be read as an ode to Harry’s double life: who people think he is (orgy, bubblegum pop with no substance) versus who he actually is (quiet private Lady and the Tramp date behind the curtain, singing about the trauma of his parent’s divorce), and I think, is a tribute to those who see past the veneer.

Semi-related, I actually don’t think Harry’s team is bringing back the womanizer image. I can see how that’s how it can come across, but I actually think, depending on the perspective you have, Lights Up, Watermelon Sugar, and LNT can be seen as a soft-seeding for a pansexual image. Yes, they all evoke a very sexual vibe, but it’s also a very open vibe. I think this fandom forgets, sometimes, just how far we’ve come with Harry’s image, and I think it’s good to remind ourselves that Harry having male-presenting people in his videos, even in the context of a group, is not something we thought would ever be possible in 2015. Waving pride flags at every show? Starring in a queer romance? Singing “I mess around with him” with his entire chest? A nail polish brand? Wearing a dress on the cover of Vogue? Dorothy?

We couldn’t even fathom half of that in early HS1.

And yes, he is still stunting, and he’s still stunting with commercially attractive thin, white women, and that’s frustrating. But in other aspects? We can’t deny that we have made progress, no matter how incremental it may seem. And, honestly, to survive in this fandom, we have to take those wins and hold them close because this is not a straight line ride. We can’t just shrug that progress off simply because it’s not our ideal and expected expression of queerness. That’s not fair to him, or to anyone.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #LNT MV analysis #Harry’s House analysis #Harry’s image discussion

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter Seven

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: Discussions of a dead parent/abusive parent (Col tells Presley about his dad...it might not all be accurate so don't come for me), smut (18+), fingering, car sex, making loOoOve

Colson

Ever since I put a ring on her finger, I can’t bear to be away from Presley for long.

She’s been coming with me to the studio every day since I proposed. Just having her there is nice. I trust her opinion as a fellow musician. She has great ideas. Sometimes, she just chills and reads her book and other times, she’s engaged. I’m debating on putting a song on the album featuring her, but I haven’t brought it up to her yet. 

Today, it’s just the two of us in the studio. I’m making a few changes and fine tuning some of our songs that have already been recorded. Pres is curled up on the couch with her book, looking beautiful as always, and I just want to snuggle up to her, but I try to focus on my work. 

After a while, I feel Presley come up behind me, sliding her hands over my shoulders, and I spin in my chair so I can pull her into my lap. “You look a little tense over here,” she says, rubbing her thumb between my eyebrows. I hadn’t even noticed my brow was furrowed but as she rubs, I realize I have a slight headache and I relax my face, eyes closing.

“Just focused,” I murmur, realizing how tired I am all of a sudden. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Yeah?” Presley says softly, replacing her thumb with her lips. I melt into her touch, feeling soothed, and wrap my arms around her. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Deal,” I say. “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Sure,” Presley says, eyes lighting up a little. I smile and kiss her softly, then pat her ass so she’ll get off my lap.

An hour later, we’ve had dinner and we’re driving as the sun slowly sets. I’m not going anywhere in particular, just taking back roads until we’re ready to go home. We’re driving along the coast, and at some point, there’s a little side road with a view of the ocean. I veer onto it and park the car. 

Presley reaches for my hand, squeezing. “Hey,” she says.

“Hm?” I reply, looking over. God, she’s so beautiful. No makeup, hair messy in a claw clip, sweats and a sports bra. I love her just like this.

“Will you tell me about your dad?”

Surprised, I blink. “Uh, what do you want to know?”

She shrugs. “Anything. I know he’s a touchy subject for you.” She’s right. We haven’t discussed him since we’ve been together, other than a few mentions of him here and there. She knows how emotional I get every single time I perform Lonely, and I know she’s heard the lyrics about him in my songs.

I sigh softly. “We didn’t get along great when I was a teenager,” I start. “He was fine when I was a kid, but when my mom left, he hit the bottle pretty hard.” Presley listens closely, her eyes on me. Her smile is soft and encouraging. I swallow and go on.

“I was kind of rebellious as a teenager, if you can picture that,” I continue. Presley giggles and I can’t help but grin a little myself. “He would…he would hit me sometimes. Looking back, I deserved that shit.” Presley opens her mouth but seems to think better of it. I rest my hand on her thigh and squeeze gently.  

“He kicked me out when I was sixteen,” I continue, brow furrowing at the sour memory. “He found drugs in my bag and he’d had it. I got a job and moved in with Slim. We were distant for a while. Barely talked. And then…and then my aunt basically told me her dying wish was for my pops and I to get closer. I blew her off.” My eyes sting a little at the memory. It’s my biggest regret, hanging up on my aunt. “She passed the next morning,” I croak.

“Cols.” Presley’s voice is almost a whisper and she touches my cheek. Her jade eyes are glossy. I cover her hand with my own and sigh.

“It’s not easy to talk about,” I confess, meeting her eyes, “but it’s important.” Pres relaxes a little and keeps her eyes on me. “Dad and I finally reconciled. We never got super close but he started to come to my shows and stuff. I think we were on a good path and then…and then he died.”

A tear rolls down Presley’s cheek. I reach out and thumb it away. “It’s okay,” I say softly, my voice gruff. “He died knowing I loved him. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. But then my mom and I got in touch again, and I’m doing okay. I really am. It gets easier every day. But god, I wish you could’ve met him.”

“Me too,” Presley whispers, squeezing my hand.

I take a deep breath. “That’s the short story,” I tell her, smiling weakly.

Presley considers me for a second, then leans over and kisses me softly. She starts to pull back but I put my hand to the back of her head, keeping her close. She pauses, then kisses me again, slow and tender. I slide my hand to her lower back and guide her into my lap. 

“Pres,” I mutter into her mouth. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Colson,” she murmurs, pressing her plush lips to mine again. “We’ll create our own family, babe. You’ll know nothing but love for the rest of your life.”

My throat tightens and I study her face, listening. Does she mean it?

“You deserved better as a child,” she says. “You’re going to be an incredible dad someday. Okay?”

My eyes start to water and I swallow hard, trying to keep my shit together, but I just nod. If I talk, my voice will crack or shake. Presley nods, too, and then, at the same time, we surge forward for another kiss.

Before Presley, I had sex when I was horny. In a good mood or maybe pissed off. I never had sex when I was feeling vulnerable. I didn’t make love before Presley. But my emotions are raw right now, and somehow, my closeness with her is melting into arousal. I need her as close as possible, need to be inside of her to feel connected. But she gets it. 

She peels my shirt over my head and lets her hands wander my skin, tracing over my tattoos. She dips her head and gently kisses along my collarbone, making me shiver. I let my head tip back and close my eyes. I never would’ve let someone admire me like this. Of course I always made sure I came, but I put so much focus on my partner’s pleasure and never really my own. I do that with Presley, of course, but she doesn’t let me make my own pleasure secondary. And I love it.

I groan softly as she skims her hands down my biceps, kissing as far down my chest as she can reach. Her fingers graze over my happy trail and I shiver, hands tightening on her hips. “Love your body so much,” she murmurs into my flushed skin. She lifts up again and I push down the straps of her sports bra. I press my lips to her shoulder and she tips her head to the side as I take my time moving my lips over her skin. Pres gasps when I grip her breasts and press them up, kissing across her chest. 

Slipping my hands beneath the band of her bra, I lift it over her head and her perky tits bounce as they fall from the bra. I whine a bit in my throat and hold her breasts in my hands, grazing my thumbs over her nipples. She shivers and arches her back, brows knitting together. “Cols,” she wheezes as I bring her breast to my mouth, brushing my tongue over her hardened nipple. She whimpers and lets me take my time on her chest, switching sides before sucking a mark onto her flesh. I let my hands glide down her sides, feeling her soft skin, and as I hold her hips, my thumbs skim over her belly. She’s perfect.

Her eyes are dark as they land on mine, and I shove her over to her own seat so we can shed the rest of our clothes. I push my jeans and boxers down around my ankles and pull her back into my lap once her sweats and panties are on the floor of the car. “Lean back for me a little, baby,” I tell her, kissing her neck, and as she does, my hand slips between her legs.

She’s definitely turned on, radiating heat right where I know she wants to be touched, but I need to tease her a little, need to work her up until she’s trembling. I brush my thumb over her clit and her hips jerk as she whimpers. “Col,” she begs, gripping onto my shoulders. “Baby…” I bite my lip and watch her face as I dip my fingertips into her entrance, gathering her arousal and sliding it up to her clit. She shivers and tenses, biting her lip hard as I rub her clit in slow circles. She whines and her head falls back. 

I bring my fingers back to her entrance and slide my middle finger inside her hot walls, all the way until I feel her g-spot against my fingertip. Presley’s breath hitches and she clenches around me, her eyes popping open. “Fuck.” She shudders, her nipples getting harder as her pupils expand. I pump my single finger until her breathing deepens, and then I add my ring finger to the mix.

“Colson,” she moans, arching her back as I start to pick up my pace. I’m silent, just watching her come undone above me. I beckon my fingers inside of her and she cries out, hips jerking and legs starting to tremble. “Yes! F-fuck,” she whimpers, digging her nails into my shoulders. “J-just like that, baby,” she encourages me.

I growl and lean forward to kiss her neck hotly, loving how wet she is around my fingers. I want inside of her, but I want her worked up. I want her edged. So when I feel her start to flutter around me, when her eyes start to go glossy and her jaw goes slack, I slide my fingers out of her with an obscenely wet sound that urges a bead of pre-cum out of my cock. 

“Colson,” she whines, slumping a little. “Baby, please.”

“Come here, love,” I say gruffly, gripping her ass to pull her closer. She reaches down and grabs my cock, sinking down on me expertly. It’s hard to believe she was a virgin just a few months ago. We both moan together when she sinks all the way down, our foreheads pressing together. 

Presley starts to grind her hips and I nearly choke. My dick is absolutely desperate for her and my balls are already aching. Fuck, I need to keep it together. “Presley,” I rasp, pulling her closer. Her chest settles against mine and I pull her face close so I can kiss her. God, I love kissing this woman. I could do it until I die. I never used to kiss girls during sex. It felt too intimate. And that’s why I love it so much with Presley.

After a bit, she slows her hips and pants. “It’s hard to ride you like this,” she admits with a breathless chuckle. 

I nod in sympathy. The backseat is small, but I’ll make it work for her. “Get in the back,” I tell her. She crawls over and I carefully move from the driver’s seat to the back, leaving the door open. My legs are way too long to try and cram myself inside. I cover Presley’s body with my own and we both sigh in relief as I press back inside.

“Much better,” I say with a little grin as I start to rock my hips.

“Fuck,” Presley whines. “Y-yeah, so much better.” She clings to me, looking up into my eyes with so much love. I can tell it feels good for her, so good that she looks almost anguished. “Colson–”

“I know, baby, I know,” I say through gritted teeth. It briefly crosses my mind that we’re not exactly in perfect privacy and that a car could pull over any time, but I’m too far gone to think too hard about it. I don’t think I could stop even if I needed to.

“Ah, Colson, I’m gonna come,” Presley says urgently, and I can feel it, can feel how close she is, squeezing my dick hard. 

“Yeah baby, that’s it,” I moan. “Let go for me, c’mon.”

Presley’s eyes close and she wails, straight white teeth flashing as she comes, hips spasming against mine. Her thighs tremble against my hips as her orgasm rips through her. “Shit, doll,” I rasp, brow furrowing. “So good, Pres, fuck.”

Presley comes back down to earth after a bit, her glossy eyes meeting mine. She starts to meet my urgent thrusts, lifting her hips. I know I have to pull out; it would be cruel to come inside her and let it drip out all the way home, but it’s so hard to pull away from her, especially when I’m this close, my hips working almost of their own accord.

“Oh fuck,” I choke out, pressing my forehead to hers as my hips pull back just in time. I move my hand quickly as I come, covering her stomach in my release. It’s so good, so intense that my head spins a little, and I breathe hard as it finally starts to ease. “Oh my god,” I breathe, panting hard.

“You’re so sexy, Col,” Presley murmurs, pushing back my sweaty hair. She smiles softly at me and I smile right back, pressing my lips to hers.

“You too, baby,” I manage breathlessly. I pull away and reach into the glove compartment for some tissues. I clean her up carefully, then help her sit up. We dress as quickly as we can and get back into our seats. 

“Let’s go home,” she says. I nod and drive her there, her hand in mine the entire time.

We strip naked as soon as we’re home, crawling into our bed and finding each other immediately. I never saw myself being this clingy, but I can’t help it. I masked any emotion for so long and now that I don’t have to hide anymore, it’s all a little much. But Presley doesn’t seem to mind. She snuggles in close to me and I breathe in her calming scent, stroking her hair.

“Hey,” I say against her forehead. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asks, rubbing her hand gently over my chest. 

“For listening. For making me talk about my dad,” I say. She looks up at me and smiles softly. “I think it’s important that I keep talking about him.”

“Me too,” Presley agrees. “I’ll always listen, Col. Always.”

“I know,” I say. “Me too.” 

Presley is quiet for a moment. “Are you going to post our engagement online?”

I want to, more than anything. I want to show off Presley to the world. Our relationship is public but neither of us has posted anything about getting engaged. I rub her back and look down at her. “What do you want?” I ask softly. Last time we posted something about us, Megan dug her claws in. I’d like to think she learned her lesson but I know her better than that.

Presley shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “Eventually people are going to notice there’s a ring on my finger. You didn’t exactly get me a subtle ring.” She grins as she holds up her left hand. The ring basically takes up an entire third of her finger. Pres loves opals, so the main stone is an opal. Diamonds sparkle around the stone. She’s right, it’s a huge ring and it’s not exactly simple.

“Then maybe we should post about it,” I say. 

“If you want to,” Presley replies quietly. 

I take her hand in mine and kiss her knuckles. “Pres, I want to show you off,” I assure her. “I love you, baby. I want the world to know.”

I watch her face as she smiles, and after a moment, she nods. “Okay. You can post about it,” she says. 

I grin and tilt her face up to mine for a kiss. “Good. I will.”

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#mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker #colson baker fanfic #colson baker smut

[prettyandsarcastic]

heart on the stage

Seven (@infamous-if)/MC

≈2,300 words

Mentions of substance/alcohol abuse

EDIT: I had to repost this because I noticed I got Avina's pronouns wrong. Also added some things.

Music to read by: "Euclid" by Sleep Token 

The whiskey sears down her throat as Munroe throws back the shot, so used to it now that it no longer comes with the full body shiver as it settles in her empty stomach. For courage, she tells herself, has to tell herself. Not to dull the ache in her chest or the pounding between her ears, or burn out the sharp pain in the back of her throat. And that’s definitely why she’s taking shots in the bathroom of the green room because she’s not hiding it. No, of course not. 

Her eyes drag upwards to meet her reflection in the dirty mirror and she nearly laughs. The stage makeup just barely hides the dark circles, and the contour only draws more attention to how hollow her cheeks have become in the last months. Despite the wild, manic brightness behind her eyes, she can’t help but think how threadbare she looks. 

Munroe takes a deep, steadying breath and steps out into the green room as her bandmates all turn to her with varying degrees of concern. And why wouldn’t they? These last months they’ve seen her fall farther than she ever thought she would trying to chase away an unspeakable heartbreak, while she tried to keep the fracturing pieces of herself together long enough to get them through to the winner’s circle. And with all their eyes on her, Munroe has never been more aware of the fact that she’s become their weakest link. 

Especially after their last gig landed them in the bottom two and so close to elimination. She knows it was her fault, so out of her mind that she barely remembers performing. When she watched the performance back, saw how she staggered around the stage and skipped whole lines in the lyrics it made her physically ill. 

Her vision fills suddenly with Orion as he steps up to her. His warm hands cup her face and draw her eyes to meet his. Munroe sees herself as he sees her in the reflection of his dark eyes - blown pupils, clammy and flushed with the hint of whiskey on her breath. 

“Munroe…” he trails off, his expression crumpling in disappointment and worry. Because she promised him she’d ease up. Orion didn’t want to see her burn out, collapse on herself like a dying star and leave just as much devastation in her wake. 

Munroe appreciates Orion and everything he does, more than she could ever say, but this isn’t what she needs from him right now. She needs the man who has helped take care of her, promised to get her through this, who has kept her on just this side of breaking. She needs the calm, steady presence that she’s come to rely on - the eye in the center of the storm she's become.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, twisting her head from his hands. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We’ve never played this song live before,” Devyn pipes up. Beside them Iris anxiously gnaws on her thumb, and by the look on her face she agrees. 

Munroe sighs. “Look, I know this hasn’t exactly been the experience we expected and I know I fucked up last gig, but I need you guys to just… keep trusting me.”

She knows she’s asking a lot, but Devyn’s right. The song they have lined up for their performance has never seen the light of day. And while Munroe puts a piece of herself into every song she writes and bares herself for the world to judge with every performance, this song will be the equivalent of pulling her heart from her chest for a live audience. 

Rowan rises from his seat, nervous energy obvious in the way his fingers twitch at his side - pantomiming his chords. He’s unusually serious because he knows what this song means to her, knows what singing it is going to do to her. But he smiles wide and confident as he cups her face in much the same way Orion had. 

“We’re gonna fucking kill it,” he says, taking over Munroe’s usual task of assuring them that their performance is going to be amazing because she’s not sure she could muster her optimism. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“We’ve got your back, Munroe,” August says with a nod.

Her phone vibrates in her hand as Rowan steps away and Munroe finds a text from Sebastian: 

‘Good luck!’ 

Quickly followed by another:

‘Oh crap, I’m not supposed to say that… Break a leg! Maya and I managed to get second row! She’s practically vibrating with excitement!’

Despite herself, Munroe smiles. She can only imagine how excited Maya is going to be when she realizes the song they play is one she’s never heard. Munroe wouldn’t be surprised to see the girl combust from the stage. 

The speaker in the green room crackles to life before a tinny voice filters through: “Wanderer please make your way to the stage. Wanderer, to the stage!” 

The crowd doesn’t know it, but they’re about to witness a performance that they’re going to talk about for the rest of their lives.

.

.

Seven can’t stop smiling as the band stumbles, laughing and hollering into their green room. They gave, hands down, their best performance thus far. There’s no doubt in any of them that they’re going to make it through to the next round. One step closer to the finale. 

He feels too big for his body as he grabs and chugs a water, like he wants to run in every direction at once just to expend the pent up energy. Although he always gives everything he has into every performance, tonight feels different and his throat is on fire from singing, adrenaline bitter in the back of his throat and he can hear his blood in his ears. Nothing could kill this high. 

Not even when Avina turns on the TV and switches to the channel featuring Battle of the Bands and he hears: “Stay tuned! Up next are everyone’s favorite underdogs: Wanderer! Can they claw their way out of being in the bottom two from last show?” 

“God, turn it off,” Kieran moans, “We don’t need to watch them this time - we won this round!”

Avina turns and gives Kieran a look. Their hair is sweat-damp mess, cheeks rosy. “I want to watch it, thank you very much.”

Kieran gapes at them before turning to him, “C’mon man, I know you agree with me. Besides, after their last gig, ain’t no way they’re staying after this week.” 

Part of him wants to agree with Kieran. Wanderer bombed their last gig so badly Seven's surprised that they weren't eliminated. And it wasn't even the band's fault - it was Munroe. She'd been such a mess, so clearly not in her right mind, her voice wrecked and thready, even forgetting her own lyrics.  

But Seven’s on cloud nine, his ex could walk into their green room right now and he wouldn’t give a shit. He shrugs, “Let 'em watch it.”

The commercial break ends, the camera pans along the audience before Munroe’s band is introduced and then the lights on the stage go out completely. Seven resists the urge to roll his eyes - always with the theatrics. 

A single spotlight comes to life on the stage. Munroe is seated at a keyboard with no sign of her bandmates. Seven watches as she takes a deep breath before raising her hands to the keys and starts to play - something slower and emotional so unlike Wanderer’s previous, high energy performances. Did she really think a ballad was a good idea? 

It feels like a bucket of ice water gets upturned over his head when she begins to sing - no back up, just Munroe and the keyboard for the opening lines of the song. It’s been so long since he’s heard her play, he had almost forgotten how good she was. It feels like a lifetime ago when it was just her and her keyboard and him and his guitar writing together, falling together between chords and lyrics. 

“Turn it up,” Seven says, ignoring the surprised looks from his band. 

As the lights dim once again, the rest of the band’s vocals rise like a choir in the dark for the refrain, which surprises him because Rowan and Iris don’t usually provide backup vocals. He sees Munroe’s shadow take her mic and make its way to the front of the stage, place the mic in its stand. The rise of the band’s instruments finally coming in takes his breath away as the lights come back up and Munroe, now joined by the band, is backlit by the stage lights, her too thin silhouette outlined in the short, sheer black kaftan-like dress she’s wearing. 

These months on tour have worn her thin, broken her down in a way Seven never thought possible. Munroe is an eternal optimist, she's not like him, she pushes aside her anger, her hurt, holds it quietly inside herself and puts a smile on her face, always, because she never wants anyone to worry about her. But this tour has dulled her light, turned her into something Seven never, no matter how he felt about her, wanted to see. 

Munroe has thrown herself into self-destruction as she is wont to do. Into the parties, the hookups, and the glamor of it all - anything to avoid facing herself. She’s tried to hide the effects, but Seven notices more than he’d like - the drinking, the erratic behavior, the insomnia, the bloody noses. 

Something in his chest kicks watching her and it suddenly occurs to him - he’s never heard this song before. This is new, or at least unreleased… and then it dawns on him: This is for me. And Munroe’s singing with her entire being, all her rage and pain and heartbreak displayed on live television for someone who has barely shown her any kindness these last few months. 

And she had endured it all, his snide comments, his attutude, his disdain for her with such grace. While there were moments when Munroe seemed to reach the end of her long suffering patience, she still smiled at him, always had a kind word for most everyone, hid behind her laugh. Now, a shadow lurked behind her eyes, and Seven is forced to face the uncomfortable fact that he's, at least in part, responsible.

The camera pans to the audience that seems to be held in a daze as they watch her. And Seven understands, he really does. At her best, Munroe is magnificent on stage, something divine - a goddess demanding devotion and supplication from the masses. 

They bring Munroe in close up - there are tears lining her cheeks, but her voice is strong as ever, ringing clear throughout the venue as the song comes into the denouement. It’s as soft as the beginning of the song, with the band slowly fading out until - 

"You will never be mine…"

The lyric hits like a punch in the gut as, for a moment, the crowd is quiet in awe and then erupts into uproarious applause. He watches as Rowan sets his guitar aside and rushes Munroe, enveloping her in his arms. To the crowd and the people at home, it’s a happy hug - a celebration of just how amazing their set was, but it’s not. It’s to keep Munroe from crumpling right there on stage - he saw how her knees went weak.  

Seven’s on his feet before he even realizes he’s moved, propelled by a sudden gripping panic. He hears the questioning of his bandmates, but can’t make out the words over the roar in his ears, the way his heart wants to escape the prison of his ribs. He rips off his mic, then he’s over the back of the couch and out the door of the green room, sprinting full tilt down the hallway. 

The song wasn’t just for him. It was good-bye. It was letting him know, in the only way he’d listen, the only way he'd hear, that Munroe was letting him go. And Seven realizes he doesn’t accept it, can’t accept it. Once, not even very long ago, it was what he wanted, a freedom from the grip she's always had on his heart and soul. But he didn't realize until now just how much he unintentionally let her light and warmth back into himself because despite his behavior toward her, Munroe still tried. Tried until she was fractured and hopeless and worn. It was something he loved and loathed about her in equal measure, her refusal to give up even when she should. 

Seven bursts through the door to backstage, dodging stage crew and members of other bands. He’s managed to make it backstage in time for Wanderer to come off the stage. He has to get to Munroe before she’s mic’d up again, before the after-performance confessional. 

His body collides with hers with a surprised grunt, and for once he doesn’t care about the cameras and the people as he gathers her against his chest. 

“Seven?” Munroe chokes out. But he feels her cling to him, her hands under his vest, nails in the back of his shirt. Then she's trembling, crying softly into his chest. Finally shattering apart as he tries to hold her together.

“I’m sorry,” he says, into the damp of her hair. He has so much to apologize for, so much to make up to her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as he angles her face up to his, thumbing away fresh tears. And the awe on her face breaks something in him in turn, because he knows she doesn't believe he's there. 

“I’m sorry,” he says against her lips. They have so much lost time to make up. 

And kissing Munroe feels like a sun rising in his chest, like being found, like coming home. 

#infamous #infamous mc #infamous oc #infamous if #seven/mc #seven lawless #kay writes #munroe redding

[mossolantern]

FIT RIGHT IN - HOMESTUCK PARODY 

lyrics under the cut

(typed without quirks for better readability)

  Red Text - The Signless

Green Text - The Disciple

Yellow Text - The Psiioniic

Mixed Color Text - Multiple People

  [Spoken Prelude] (can be skipped, added on to, or changed however you see fit. I’m not a writer, after all! So if you can make it make sense, power to you!!! Just have fun with the whole thing!)

  We need to make our way into the culltillion, every important highblood is going to be there!

All we have to do is get them to hear us out.

However… we can’t do that if we stick out like sore prongs so… we need to look like highbloods.

  *Gasp* We’re gonna need disguises? Oh, I just love wearing disguises~!

  You two can’t be serious right now, do you have a death wish? “Every important highblood” includes )(er.

 We’re as good as cullbait if we get in there, disguises or not.

  Look, Psii, I know it’s risky, but if we manage to pull this off, we could finally start to make a real change to society!

Look;

[The Actual Song Part]

We’re taught that lowbloods are the hemospectrum’s bottom-rung 

We’re told that highbloods are the brutes you’d hate to be among

They smell like fishes! (They’re vicious!) you bet they’d get me hung!

Meet any one of them, the thing to do is run away!

But although, I know we’re all a bunch of different castes,

Take away the fins and hues, and then you’d see we match!

So let’s put aside our differences, ‘cause what we need’s a win, oh-oh-oh!

Now we’re making brand-new pages in the history books,

Just because we're undercover doesn't mean we're crooks!

When we walk into the crowd and give our brand-new looks a spin,

We're gonna fit right in!

This is- Just, no. (We’re gonna fit right in!)

it’s never gonna work.

We know damn well The Empress is a ruthless maniac,

With horns like razors, and eyes with lasers, 

and fleets to bat (you have eye lasers too!)

She’ll cull us three and then display us on her trophy rack!

So what I'm saying is that this is a really bad plan.

  Look, I know we're risking everything to make our mark,

But just look at us, we’re brave and strong, and we’ve got Heart!

Plus, we’re closer to a real change than we’ve ever, ever been! woah-oh-oh!

So let’s take a leap of faith ‘cause I believe in us,

It’s still worth a try in spite of any repercuss 

‘Cause we’re running out of options and we’re desperate to begin,

We’re gonna fit right in!

 Fine, If you say so;

  We’re gonna fit right in!

  I know we will, now first things first;

  First we’re putting on our disguise, (Hide!)

Then here’s how we’re sneaking inside. (Right!)

At first we’re gonna act the part, (Part?)

Then we’re gonna open their hearts. (Oh, god-) (Shoosh!)

This is how we make social change, (Change!)

Woah, have their outlooks be rearranged! (Yay!)

Now we’re heading toward our goal, (Woah!)

We’ll give ‘em one hell of a show!

  Oh, A purple-hued sign could make any troll hide,

It’s a showcase of their high-place It’s the source of their pride!

Every troll who’s been born has worn a sign that’s unique,

So we’ll make them up as we speak, 

We’ll be looking très magnifique!

We’ll fake a cool-hued illusion to form a stealthy intrusion,

It’s not the perfect solution, but the world’s not big on inclusion.

If we get these guys on our side,

We’ll reap the reward, the empress gets floored,

We’ll strike a new chord, then peace is restored!

 

We know that Alternia can have a heart,

So if we can help to find it, we should play our part!

 If we fail, we’re getting murdered!

 But if not, we’ll start to grin, so let’s begin!

WE’RE GONNA FIT RIGHT IN!

We’re Gonna fit right in!

We’re Gonna fit right in!

We’re Gonna fit right in!(We’re gonna fit right in!)

  This is where our change will jumpstart,

  Encourage ‘em all to play their part,

  We’ve been waiting for this so long!

  This is how we ‘highbloods’ will- end this song!

#moss talks #how tf do i tag this btw? i genuinely don't know #homestuck #look man i am free #feel 100% free to use this btw i love you broadway / offbroadway / musicstuck folks

[wistfulweaverwoman]

I Feel Fine

I’m not sure why I volunteered to ride with Gale on the drive to the lake house. It’s not like we’re actually friends. We talk, know stuff about each other. Used to be neighbors, back in elementary and middle school. His mom watched me and my little sister sometimes. I’m pretty sure he still thinks of me as a kid, even though he’s fucking my best-friend. Well, really, she’s my only friend.

They met at the bowling alley where the three of us, as well as what seems like most of the other teenagers in town, work. Boys have always liked Madge. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect tits. A regular beauty queen. Seriously. She hates it, but her mom was Miss Arkansas and insists that Madge follow in her footsteps, even if it’s just for the shit she can put on a college application. She always calls it a scholarship program, like she can live with herself if it’s for college. No one knows about the pageants; I’m sworn to secrecy. I don’t really know why, it’s not like the other cheerleaders are going to tease her like I do.

I’m not a cheerleader. I’m not anything.

I don’t realize I’ve been sleeping till the protesting brakes wail softly. I jerk upright, wiping the sticky side of my face with my forearm. The truck follows Madge’s white Jetta along the gravel road. Through the pale dust swirls I see the girls jammed in the back seat, their hair piled in messy knots on their heads, moving their arms in sync. They’re probably listening to some terrible pop song they’ve used in one of their routines. I bet they’re screaming the lyrics off key.

I contain a shudder; I kind of hate dramatic people. 

The anticipation starts to build as we begin to ascend the last hill. I’ve been coming here with Madge's family since we became friends back in second grade. Usually it’s just the family, her mom, and dad when he has time, and her younger brother, Brian. We’ve had a few slumber parties up here, but never any real “party” parties. There are three kegs in the bed of the truck, bottom shelf liquor that’s probably closer to rubbing alcohol than anything that’s fit for human consumption, spiked lemonade, cider, plus every flavor of wine cooler ever made. 

I’m not really sure who else is bothering to drive up for the weekend, but the whole senior class was invited. Which is kind of crazy, even if our school is pretty small. But it’s our graduation, our last big hurrah. Everyone was warned that the beds are first come, first serve and to bring a sleeping bag, just in case. The house is pretty big. Besides the master, already claimed by Madge and Gale, there's the attic bedroom, where Madge and I usually sleep, Brian's room, three guest rooms, and the bunk room. Plus, there’s a pullout couch in the boathouse.

I roll down the window, lean my head out, close my eyes, and just inhale. It’s not really too different from home, but I’ve always been happy here. The spicy pine hanging in the air smells how carefree used to feel. Without raising my lids I roll my eyes. Nostalgia is making me sappy, but I don’t bother forcing away my smile. 

Everyone climbs out groaning, and stretches. A series of car doors slam as the cluster of girls excitedly shoulder their burgeoning duffle bags. Gale grabs his, and several bags from the grocery store. I grab another two, along with my backpack. I didn’t really need to pack anything. I’ve got lots of stuff up here, but Madge made me buy a dress for the party. And she treated me to some stuff from Victoria Secret’s. Which was weird. 

I tried to just get some sweatpants with ‘pink’ on the butt. But she insisted that every “woman” needs at least one set of sexy underpants. I hate them. Not only are they not comfortable, but they seem to emphasize everything I hate about my body. My thighs look fatter, and my belly seems to ripple beneath the synthetic band. They even look bigger than my cotton briefs. And I feel like an imposter. Panties like these belong on someone beautiful, or at least someone who looks beautiful naked. 

I don’t cringe when I look in the mirror or anything, but, as Aunt Jo once said when she was drunk and trying to give me some sort of confidence boost, I’m basically the opposite of a “butter face”. It’s not the nicest thing to say to a distraught sixteen year old girl. I guess I found some comfort, since I laughed, though embarrassed and horrified, at her graphic description of some girl she supposedly knew in the Army that always had to suffer the humiliation of wearing a bag over her head or take it from the rear, or maybe in the rear? I never wanted to ask. 

Really, the whole thing sounded humiliating. Ever since then I’ve been suspicious of guys and their motives. I generally assume that the only reason a guy would be interested in me is to use me to get to know Madge (this has happened), or because they want to masturbate in me (this has not happened). The result is that I’m kind of mean to most guys my age. Not Gale, because, though he’s a bit of a douche, he’s decent enough. He listens to Rush, buys us booze, and doesn’t act like I’m a third wheel. I think he gets that really we’re the ones that let him tag along with us. But he actually knows Madge. As popular as Madge is, no one really knows her, other than us. When we were younger I was always side eyeing other girls. I probably came off as jealous, but really I’m just protective. 

Okay, so maybe I’ve always been a little suspicious. Madge tries to get me to hang out with some of her other friends, but she acts differently around them. I don’t think she even notices. Gale does. The few times we’ve all got together he’s gotten real quiet. His face seems relaxed, but I can tell he’s pissed, because I wear the same expression. He wouldn’t have come up for the party, except for the obvious promise of copious amounts of sex.

The gravel crunches under my flip flops as I follow the others across the driveway. The girls hustle through the front door to claim a preferred bunk. A squeal echoes down the hall with Gale’s rough chuckle, and then pounding footfalls disappear upstairs. A door slams from somewhere far away. I place the bags beside the others on the counter in the kitchen and put the perishables away.

Shit.

I forgot to bring my one piece swimsuit. Upstairs I only have a bikini from sophomore year, when I first started gaining weight, but wasn't actually the size I am now. I don’t care that it’s too small when it’s just me and Madge. I try not to get too athletic in it. If I so much as sneeze my boobs try to escape the top like a pair of unruly puppies. Leaping off the dock is out of the question when Brian is lurking around. I’m pretty sure he’s already had an eyeful. Ugh.

If I go change now I can at least get in a swim before anyone else arrives.

Throwing caution to the wind, I cannon ball off the dock, breasts be damned. I may joke that if I do jumping jacks that I’ll knock myself out, but they aren’t really that big. Still, it’s hard to keep them in my top while they're trying to float up to meet my chin. 

The water is freezing, but that’s how I like it. It’s a murky green brown, and I can barely see two feet in front of me when I swim down, reaching out with my fingers, exploring, only to shoot back up when I touch the slimy tangled bottom. I hate touching the bottom, but always seek it out, like I have to make sure it hasn't changed.

I float for a while, my hair undulating gently. The trees sway overhead. I forget why we’re here, who’s here. I forget a lot of things. I get lost in my memories, remembering joy, and the person I used to be, before my world was wrecked.  

A car door slams. Then another. 

Startled, I sink below the surface. I try to blow the water back out of my nose, but some of it is already burning at the back of my throat. Ungracefully I haul myself up onto the edge of the dock and realize I’ve left the towel on my bed. 

I breathe in slowly smelling sun baked wood, my cheek, naked belly, and palms are pressed against the gray weathered boards, almost hot enough to burn my skin. I consider my options, either rush through the house and risk showing my goods to god knows who, or… or go see if there’s a towel in the boathouse.

The gaggle of girls from Madge's car are straggling down from the house having changed into swimsuits. Not wanting to wait around till even more people show up I hop to my feet and speed walk toward the boat house, the skin where my thighs touch burning with the friction.

After retrieving the hide-a-key from under a fake rock I let myself in. It’s stuffy and warm, but not unpleasant. The boats are actually stored one level down. This upper area is really more of an entertaining space, with a sleeping nook in the rear. 

Probably no one’s been here since last summer. In the closet, on the top shelf, are a stack of towels and another of bed linens. If my mom had put them there they'd probably be threadbare and musty. Madge’s mom buys new towels every year and sticks dryer sheets in all the closets to keep them smelling nice. 

I’m contemplating how I’ll reach the top shelf when I hear a laugh. I freeze on tip-toe with my arm in the air.

“That’s right motherfucker!” says a boy from somewhere very near the door. “It’s mine, and I’ll fight anyone that tries to take it.” Someone yells something back, and the boy laughs, and I hear a thump and the door slams shut, probably using his foot. 

Fuck.

Without looking I know who’s here. Madge once suggested that I like him. “Like him” like him. He’s really nice, but I said I didn’t, because I don’t like anyone. But I’m not blind. He’s probably the hottest guy in school. 

He grunts, sounds like he’s shifting whatever he's carrying, and I turn as he stumbles into the room trying to tug his shirt off with one arm, the other clutching a sports bag. 

For half a second I consider hiding, he hasn’t seen me yet, but instead just turn back around and try desperately to grab a fucking unreachable towel. The dripping tips of my hair sway with my effort, tickling my lower back. His stuff thuds to the floor.

“Oh!” he gasps. “I’m sorry! Are you staying in here?”

I glance over my shoulder, wishing I was someone or somewhere else. He looks a little like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and staring.

“I’m just here for one of those,” I say, waving my hand in the general direction of the linens. 

He presses up beside me. His eyes dart toward my tits and linger a little too long. The heat coming off his bare skin is like a campfire and my skin actually prickles in response. He plucks a towel off the shelf, barely needing to reach up. 

I’m taken aback when he unfolds the thing and wraps it gently around my shoulders. Maybe it suddenly occurs to him how intimate the gesture is, or he catches the look on my face, but he takes a big step back and smacks his shoulder on the closet door. 

I tuck the towel firmly into place, glaring down, really feeling out of my depth.

Should I say something? Why the fuck haven't I left yet? Run, Bitch! Flee!

“So. Thanks for the towel!” I say, my voice pitching up. I sidestep him, shuffling back toward the exit. “See you later, Peeta!” 

I don’t look back, and manage to make it up to my room without being seen. Madge is waiting for me on the bed when I’ve finished showering. She’s already dressed, makeup and hair done like she’s dressing up like Taylor Swift for Halloween. She’s laid out my dress and the hateful butt gobbling “sexy” underpants, with matching bra, which smashes my boobs together into what basically looks like an ass crack. She looks gleeful to the point of maniacal. I glower, aiming my best “I hate you” at her, causing her to cackle. 

“You promised,” she says. I did promise, after she and Aunt Jo pressured me into agreeing. Madge retrieves one of many make up cases from under the bed, scraping the floor. The argument was that I didn't always need to be a bitch, that make-up is just another kind of armor. Whatever. It’s all bullshit. None of it would matter in the zombie apocalypse.

Madge sets my hair up in these giant curlers and then spends way too much time on applying my makeup so that it doesn’t look like I’m wearing any.

“So how many times since we got here?” I ask. I hate talking about it, but also have a morbid curiosity. Plus, who else am I going to ask? Not mom, or grams, even if they were still alive. Aunt Jo welcomes these types of inquiries, but I’ve found her explanations way too detailed.

“Four,” says Madge. “Now that I’m on the pill he doesn’t use condoms. It feels great for like, two minutes, then he’s done. Which is fine if we’re, you know, in the hot tub. But we’ve got a bed here and no parents.”

“Ew, the hot tub? Seriously?”

“Just once. Not as awesome as it sounds.”

“Sounds gross.”

“You think sex in general sounds gross.”

“It’s all the sharing of body fluids. Plus, I can’t really wrap my mind around how “good” it’s supposed to feel after you described the first time.”

“I told you, Mark just... went at it. I wasn’t exactly warmed up.”

“It hurt because you were cold?” I say in a mystified voice.

Madge leans back and squints at me.

“Pffft,” she says, realizing I’m teasing. “Asshole,” and smacks the back of my head with a pillow.

“Mark convinced you to have sex because it was junior prom. Not because he liked you. You cried the whole time. Why the fuck would I want that?”

Madge shrugs, and I can tell she’s struggling not to look superior. 

“It’s different, when you care about someone.”

“I think I’ll stick to climbing trees and building forts with Prim.”

“And that’s why I love you,” she says, and kisses the top of my head. “You’re more of a kid than Prim is.”

“She’s too excited to get it over with. We get a few years, and then we’re grown.”

 I pull the dress over my head and then Madge removes the curlers. I don't know why she’s being so careful, she has to know it’s going up in a ponytail sooner or later.

She scans the floor, and then looks at me accusingly.

“Where are your new sandals? The wedges?” she demands.

“Oh no. I must have forgotten them at home,” I say in a non-sad voice. “I guess I have to wear my flip flops.”

“If you didn't really want them, why did we spend two days shopping?”

I shrug. It seemed really important at the time. And then I remembered they're just shoes. 

“Will you try to have fun tonight? Really try?”

“Sure.” 

At some point, after going down stairs, we separate. I’m not going to follow her around the whole time; she takes her hostessing duties seriously, greeting everyone, chatting. She doesn’t realize she’s acting just like her mother. 

I have a beer. It’s thin and sour but the warm feeling in my belly somehow makes me feel like less of an outsider so it suddenly seems like a good idea to have a few more. I sit down with a group with my red plastic cup, trying to remember I'm wearing a skirt, assuming they’re playing a drinking game, and not really paying attention to what till the boy next to me leans over and kisses me sloppily on the mouth. I draw back in protest, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

“What the fuck?” I say.

“It’s your turn Katniss.” 

I squint at the middle of the circle, and realize we’re playing fucking spin-the-bottle like a bunch of sixth graders. 

Whatever, I said I’d try. I give the empty Cuervo bottle a hard spin. Only then do I take the time to glance around the circle to see who I’m actually playing with. 

Weirdly, there are mostly girls. There’s Jessica Riley, Melissa Karkowski,  the Vargas twins, Jared Unibrow is next to me, Monique Jones, Gretchen Wilkinson, Richard Talks-to-tits across the way, and oh, great, Peeta Mellark a bit over to the right. 

Explains all the girls.

The bottle stops pointing at the girl beside Richard. He grins at me.

“Nope,” I say. “There’s only three dudes, if we played by the sixth grade rules you’d get like a million turns. I’m kissing her,” pointing at Jessica, who looks startled, and then weirdly smug. 

She jumps up a little eagerly, and is leaning over me before I can stand. She presses her lips against mine, and I’m surprised I don’t hate it. 

Jessica is back to the bottle and kissing some other girl before I can gather my bearings. I stop paying attention again, easy to do since I’m nursing another drink that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. A hand grasps my arm just above my elbow and pulls me to my feet. 

Peeta.

“Hey, you’ve been drinking,” he whispers. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” God he smells good, like some kind of spicy smelling body wash.

“I think so,” I whisper back, and wink. Am I… flirting? I've done that exactly never.

Peeta looks me in the eyes, searching for something. Should I smile? I cross my eyes instead. He throws his head back, laughing. The whole time he’s got his hands on my arms, like he’s afraid I’m going to tip over.

“Dude. She’s fine. Kiss her already.”

And he does. It’s gentle, he doesn’t mash his lips against mine. He brushes against them. His hand slides up my arm to the side of my head. It’s nice. I open my mouth, and instead of jack hammering my tongue with his he just kind of slides the tip in. I don’t want to stop, but this is just a game so I sit down. Peeta stumbles back to his spot.

“Katniss,” says Jared. “Spin it already.”

I glance at Peeta, he’s still watching me. Well everyone is; it’s my turn. I’m way too delighted when the bottle points to Peeta. I stand up carefully, trying to keep my knees together so I don’t flash everyone. Peeta’s just stepped up to me, has just clasped my elbow, when pervy Richard speaks up.

“No, no. You two already frenched. It’s seven minutes in heaven now. Into the closet.”

We both stare at him. I’m not sure what’s going through Peeta’s mind, but I’m both simultaneously intrigued and terrified. What goes on during these brief rendezvous? Do kids just feel each other up? Hand stuff? 

“Nope,” says Peeta. “Fuck that, I have a room.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out the backdoor, toward the boathouse. He walks right past it, though, and sits down at the edge of the dock, his legs dangling. He pats the rough wood beside him and I plop down.

“Sorry. I wasn't going to take you into that closet so Richard could get his rocks off thinking about me groping you.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Now he’s just going to think you brought me to your room to fuck or something.”

He cringes. “I didn't think of that.” He stands again, tottering a little, and offers me a hand up. “Let’s go back. Have you eaten?”

I shake my head and follow him carefully; the beer in my system seems to be messing with how far away the ground is from my feet.

A group of kids has gathered out on the large deck lit by hanging twinkle lights. Some kids are setting up their instruments off to one side. Playing music is always a family affair going back generations in our area. They start their first reel, fiddles and guitars and a mandolin twanging out into the night. Couples take their partner and begin clogging. 

It’s damn magical. 

I feel the pull to join, either the singers or dancers, but I keep walking. We edge around the deck and enter the kitchen. It’s already a mess, abandoned cups, spilled drinks, chip crumbs litter the floor. While I’m trying to figure out what to eat Peeta assembles an epic plate of nachos. I’m about to start my own plate when he indicates they're for the both of us. I’m too drunk to be annoyed that I have to share.

We  pass Richard and the rest of what’s left of the group. At least half of the girls have left, and I catch a few stink-eyes as we pass out of the room.  Some of these girls are as pretty as Madge, and clearly want him. Why is he still with me? The obvious answer is unclear. Does he pity me? I don’t need his pity. I do need a hairband because my hair is sticking to my sweaty neck. Peeta follows me to my room. He sets the plate on the desk by the window, but instead of eating looks around with interest.

Madge’s mom had the whole place professionally decorated about twelve years ago, it was even featured in a spread in Southern Living. This room is sweet, made for little girls. Above the white paneled walls is a wallpaper scattered with tiny blue cornflowers. The canopied bed, though huge, seems small compared to the size of the space. There are built-in cushioned window seats, shelves of books. There’s a rocking horse in one corner, and a huge dollhouse in the other. Instead of a closet there’s a wall of built-in cupboards and drawers. There’s an attached bathroom, complete with a shower and a seperate clawfoot tub. When we were small, and Madge and I weren’t outside swimming, we spent hours playing noisily, or reading quietly. I love it here.

Peeta steps into the bathroom, and pauses, gripping the edge of the door and staring at my swim suit hanging over the shower rod, drying. The door shuts with a thump, and I twist my hair up onto my head. The cool breeze hits my sweaty neck and goosebumps cover my skin for a moment. Peeta seems like he’s in the bathroom for a long time, but time doesn’t seem to be passing with it’s normal regularity, so maybe just a minute goes by.

“Want to go for a walk?” he says, stepping through the doorway. I nod.

We go back downstairs, leaving the nachos to wilt untouched, not remembering them till we’re three stories down. I grab a hotdog. For some reason it seems like a good idea to take a shot of whiskey. It burns going down and I gag on the aftertaste. For good measure I take another. Peeta silently hands me a red solo cup. I discover it’s just coke, and I take small sips while leading him down to one of the walking trails. 

It’s dark, but the moon is out, so there’s not too much stumbling. I take him to the hammock halfway around the lake and sit sideways to allow some room for him to perch beside me. Still, the sides of the hammock kind of force us toward each other and we awkwardly lean in the opposite direction. It dawns on me, in an abstract way, that this is a very romantic spot. I just want to show him one of my favorite spots on the property. I’m suddenly worried that he might think I’m trying to seduce him or something. 

I try to come up with something to say, or do, other than to flee again. I can’t. So I stare at the sky, looking for shooting stars. I pretend not to notice that Peeta’s watching me instead of the stars. Finally I give in and motion to the sky.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

“The prettiest I’ve seen.” He didn’t look at the sky. Is he... trying to get in my pants? 

“What?” I’m laughing, it’s so cheesy.

“You’re pretty” he says, shrugging and gives me a genuinely shy but sweet smile. I impulsively lean in, pressing my mouth onto his. We stop fighting the hammock and press into each other, our feet leave the ground, and the hammock swings us back and forth. 

After a while the good feelings merge into something else entirely. Though the hammock had mostly stilled a while ago, I feel like I’m spinning. I pull away to catch my breath, and struggle to get back on solid ground, sinking to my knees. But the sick feeling stays, and then grows. Peeta seems to have realized I’m not feeling so good because he got to his feet and is standing over me, trying to help me up. As soon as I’m standing I go down on all fours and crawl towards a bush. My hair is unbound again and I struggle to push it back over my shoulders, trying not to heave. I fail. I can’t keep the contents of my stomach in. First comes up the sweet coke, followed by the salty half chewed hotdog chunks with the acrid combination of booze and bile. 

Long after I’m empty I still dry heave, but eventually I come back to my senses. Peeta’s crouched beside me, holding my hair away from my face and rubbing my back in soothing circles. He hands me a crumpled napkin from his pocket, and I wipe my mouth while he hauls me to my feet. Taking my hand, he leads me back, promising a bottle of water from the boathouse. I mechanically follow. We stop at the door and stare at the sock that’s hanging on the knob. Peeta cracks opens the door, and I hear a strange slapping noise and low moans. I can’t figure out what I’m hearing, but Peeta quickly pulls the door closed blocking out the sounds, looking irritated.

I struggle against him, trying to get inside, managing to turn the knob.

“Peeta,” I hiss. “Someone sounds like they’re getting hurt in there, we need to help.” I ram my shoulder against his chest and my stomach rolls in protest.

“Trust me”, he whispers into my ear. “They don’t need your help.”

He quietly pulls the door shut and leads us back to the party. I must be pretty drunk still because one minute I’m right behind Peeta, and the next I’m in my room naked, standing on the hateful underpants. At least I’ve shut the door. I get a whiff of the nachos and fling the whole plate out the window like a frisbee. I’ve pulled on some boy shorts and an old tank top by the time Peeta enters with a few bottles of water and a bottle of pills. 

I dutifully take the medicine he offers and down the first bottle of water. Is he staring at me? Or is he just really drunk too? He opens his mouth, but I turn and stumble toward the toilet. It’s a weird sensation, throwing up the cold water. It comes up so fast that some shoots out my nose. Peeta is behind me again, trying to save my hair from the toilet. The feeling of wanting to crawl into a hole intensifies when I glance behind me and see that more than a little water has splashed onto his shirt and cargo shorts. He drops my hair and removes his shirt and rubs his front with the dry part. He loads up my toothbrush with toothpaste and hands it over. 

Legs shaking, I stand. I splash my face and rinse my mouth. Going slow to avoid activating my gag reflex I watch Peeta watching me. This feels way more intimate than kissing. Why is he still here? I try to analyze his motives, but my brain is mush. Clearly, as I’m puking like the possessed, he must realize nothing is going to happen between us. Right?

I lean over to spit, and through a mouthful of foam say “We’re not going to fuck.”

I’m not sure how I expected him to react, annoyed maybe, for putting in all the time but never getting very far. I glance up while I cup my hand under the water flowing from the faucet. He’s still staring at me, though his brows are drawn. He looks confused.

“That’s not- I never though that’s where this was headed, I just really like you. I always have” he says. 

What? Since when? No… I’m suspicious this is a last ditch effort to have graduation sex. But there are plenty of girls downstairs that’d be happy to oblige. 

His pocket buzzes and he steps back into the bedroom. I hear him groan. He’s staring at his phone with disgust. 

“What?” I ask, walking slowly into the room.

“Sometimes I wonder how Rye and I are even related,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket. Rye is his twin, but not identical, brother. Peeta’s the baby of the family by, like, 20 minutes. Rye is a known slut, so that’s probably who was in boathouse. I wouldn't be surprised if he sent Peeta a text bragging about it. My phone buzzes on the side table. One glance tells me that Rye actually sent a mass photo text. I toss the phone at the bed and point.

“Make it go away,” I say, swaying a little. He snatches it up.

“Sorry,” he says, looking down at the photos. 

“It’s fine,” I say, “It’s not like this is the first time Rye has sent me a dick pic.”

Peeta’s head snaps up. “WHAT!?” he says, loudly. Peeta’s always so mild, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him pissed. He chucks my phone down with enough force that it bounces off and thuds on the floor.

“Sorry! How does he even have your number?”

“We were lab partners sophomore year.”

“Oh, yeah. God, I was so bitter about that.” Was he? I did set the curve that year. Rye only got an “A” because of me.

I open my mouth to answer, but turn back for the toilet. I lay my arm across the seat so I can rest my head. Peeta sits on the edge of the tub and makes me take small sips of water in between the dry heaves. I’m so tired.

“Do you want to be alone now?” he says. I’m so overwhelmed with longing the back of my nose and throat burn.

“I want my mom,” I whisper, ashamed I’m crying. He reaches out and squeezes my arm.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asks quietly. I nod, snuffling. He leads me to bed, pulls the covers back, and then actually tucks me in. I’m out almost instantly.

Weak light glows through the window and my bladder is so full it’s actually painful. On my way to the toilet I see Peeta asleep on the floor with a pillow and a quilt. After pulling on some shorts and yanking the curtains closed I nudge him with my foot. He lifts his head and squints at me.

“You can lay on the bed, it’s big enough for us both.”

Then I fall back onto the mattress and pull the bedclothes over my head.

After an indeterminate amount of time passes I wake, a little too warm, but so comfortable that I don’t want to move. As I become more conscious I realize that Peeta has cupped his body behind mine and I have become the “little spoon”. At least I’m not being forked. I roll away to find a cool part of the sheet and fall asleep again.

When I wake again light pours in from the open window, a square of sunshine nearly reaches the bed. Didn’t I shut that? Madge is poking me excitedly, while Gale is leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Peeta still sleeps next to me. Madge raises her eyebrows, makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger and passes the index finger from her other hand through, back and forth.  I shake my head rapidly and point at the door. I mouth “Get the fuck out,” to emphasis my point. Gale is shaking with the effort to not laugh out loud. I point again and she throws up her arms in surrender and tip toes out. 

I squirm, trying to get comfortable. I roll over. Finally I get up and shower. By the time I come out of the bathroom Peeta is gone, like he’d never been here at all.

#I Feel Fine #THG #modern day au #wistfulweaverwoman

[lastchancefm]

  ⸺   🦬   greetings, buffalos ! walking around campus, sporting his brother's battered brown aviator jacket, covered in patches we’ve spotted RICHARD 'RICHIE' SLADE, a twenty seven year old who contributes to our thriving community as a RADIO OPERATOR. according to our intel, they’ve been around the sanctuary for seven years and what we know about him, aside from the fact that they don’t agree with the decision to close the gates, is that if he's heard a song even once he can remember all the lyrics and he hoards music like it's gold, he loves tinkering with any kind of thing, taking it apart and putting it back together again, you can find him often playing with the younger kids and telling them wild stories. )

PINTEREST • MUSINGS

NAME: Richard 'Richie' Slade

AGE: 27

BIRTHDAY: 19th April (Aries)

GENDER: Cis man

PRONOUNS: He/Him

SEXUALITY: Bisexual Disaster

OCCUPATION: Radio Operator

HOMETOWN: Clearfield, Oregon

HEIGHT: 5"10

FATHER: Graham Slade †

MOTHER: Jolene Slade †

SIBLINGS: Rachel Slade ?, Benjamin Slade †, Christopher James Slade †

humming incessantly, drumming your fingers on every available surface, shit-eating grins, the soft blink of comms tower lights, ugly and sometimes vaguely offensive graphic tees with holes in the hem, falling asleep in the car and getting a piggyback into the house, draping yourself over seats dramatically then peeking to see if anyone is watching you, a companionable arm slung around your shoulders, a sure hand hauling you out of windows to sit on cold roof tiles, razz jolly ranchers turning your tongue blue, neon lights reflecting off wet asphalt, the half-cool touch of a chain dangling from your lover’s neck against your racing pulse, grinning through the pain so hard you bite your tongue until it bleeds, a dusting of freckles, your nose turning pink in the cold.

ɪ'ᴍ ᴀ ꜱᴄʀᴀᴡɴʏ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜰᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴏʟ ʜᴀɪʀꜱᴛʏʟᴇ. ɪ ꜱᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ.

PRE-OUTBREAK

richie was the third of four kids, benny was four years older than him, rach born the year before that.

by the time rich showed up, his parents had done their time trying to figure out good ways to raise kids and basically just left him to it. he had everything he needed technically but he only rarely saw his parents a couple of times a week. neglect felt too strong of a word. unless he was getting in trouble, he basically didn't exist: so he decided to do what any thirteen year old starved of attention would do. become a problem.

richie was into all the hoodrat shit: stealing from the corner store, throwing firecrackers in the supermarket and mailbox baseball. he swore at teachers, then just made fools of them when he got too much detention. plausible deniability was richie's best friend.

he had a few friends but bullying was a problem, his nose was broken three times in two summers. he was skinny, lanky kid with bad teeth who didn't know how to fight but he never knew when to back down, yelling vicious your mother jokes till he saw stars.

then cj was born. the very epitome of an oops baby, long after the slades had ever intended to procreate. instead of ceej getting the same treatment as richie had, he was the baby of the family who could do no wrong. rich didn't hold it against him but his relationship with his parents continued to deteriorate, looking at the coddling and attention he'd never gotten. that they were capable of the whole time but chose to deny.

the only thing that stopped him bombing out of school was rach, who was basically his surrogate mother and went to bat every time he made something explode at the science fair. she recognised that he was smart and talked to him like a person rather than a problem-creating idiot until she turned eighteen and moved out for college.

so what if his parents couldn't appreciate him disassembling the toaster and putting it back together, they just got annoyed there was no toast one morning. he was a debate team loser, an av club loser who did the sound tech for the musical every year. the one thing richie did otherwise was run track, he was no good in a team but give him a pair of headphones and a wide open space and he could run for miles. quick as a whip.

rich was a good big brother, way better than being a little brother. he'd carry cj around, explaining everything he wanted to know without talking down to him, played pretend games and did the different funny voices for characters in his bedtime stories.

got diagnosed with adhd, shocking absolutely no one. has learned to live without the meds he was on in the years since it all ended.

ɪꜰ ɪ'ᴍ ᴏꜰꜰᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʟʟ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ.

POST-OUTBREAK [ FAMILIAL DEATH TW ]

everything went to hell in a handbasket while their parents were on vacation, benny became the resident adult, stepping into the role with none of the grace of rach. rach had gone to school in washington, out of state, they lost contact with her that night.

their parents were at a conference in boulder, with no plan and the neighbourhood eating itself alive, benny started them on the worst roadtrip ever.

benny passed over their grandfather's aviator jacket, sherpa-lined and meant for high altitude it kept him warm. it still does, it's rare that you will ever see richie without it.

three years in and richie wakes up in a cold sweat, a gut feeling filling him with uncontrollable unease. something is wrong. cj is curled into a comma shape, rich bracketing him. he can't hear benny breathing.

[ FAMILIAL DEATH TW ] it's clear that benny was trying to fight it. tears crawling down his cheeks as he jerked back and forth like a wild thing, trying to contain the infection as it told him to rip richie apart. a bit of richie died that day, killing his big brother and it never came back the same.

they'd been in colorado a while but stumbled across a group. their dad was alive but richie resented the fact that he hadn't tried to come back for them and remained where he was the entire time. graham liked fishing and hunting, he'd taught the boys all he knew about gathering for themselves, starting fires, finding water sources. rich never did find the time away from cj to ask what happened to their mom.

a few people who were here seven years ago know that richie first arrived with his father and cj, they had an explosive argument about joining the group as rich wanted to stay but his dad didn't trust them. cj, overhearing their dad say it was a bad place sprinted back out into the wilderness. graham followed. richie hasn't talked about it since.

survived most of the early outbreak by using his long cultivated free-running and bouldering skills to get up high and find places to hide. his hoodrat tendencies stuck with him, he still knows how to hotwire a car.

[ weapons tw ] doesn't like firearms and gets skeeved out when asked to hold one, he has a metal baseball bat, a crowbar and a machete. that's enough for him.

isn't anywhere near well educated enough to teach kids but loves to make sure that they get to be kids, even at the end of everything. sometimes he gets in trouble for having too little of a filter but kids like him, he doesn't try to make them feel small.

grows weed, has a little plot that he tends to, would like grow lamps to keep growing year round but gets that it's pretty costly in resources. gives this to people who need help sleeping or with pain.

sad clown, every emotion needs to be masked with humour otherwise what is he? are you not entertained? i must entertain the masses etc etc. actually feels everything very deeply and is sensitive as fuck. trust ISSUES

surprisingly good at his job, knows when it's okay to have a bit of a laugh and when to get serious. very good at keeping track of patrols, guard rotation and scavenging beyond the walls.

always cold, always ramming a beanie over his ears, rarely without fingerless gloves and drowned in various layers.

Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ, ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴀᴍ ɪ ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ?

WANTED CONNECTIONS - TBA

im sorry my brain is dripping out of my ears

[ graphic template; ]

#survivors.intro #pls help #death tw #familial death tw

[lokiswife13]

“Now I know I’m never gonna love again”.

Warning: angst and then pure fluff, drinking while driving (don’t to this, ever), again lyrics from Taylor and Olivia songs.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

It was over, she knew that. Over the summer the only thing they did was fight, he dropped her at her house and all she did was cry. She wanted things to be normal again, but he was hurt and she knew that, and he knew she was hurt too.

The remembering is the worst, trying to relive every moment when the relationship wasn’t broken, it was impossible to get that back, they were broken.

[flashback]

“Come here”. Steve said and took her waist to put her on top of him. “I really like you, y/n”.

“Of course you do, I’m your girlfriend”. She smiled at him.

Maybe it was the intimacy of the moment, the closest he got to her, kissing her and whispering sweet things, his arms around her, maybe it was the way that his lips fit with hers, the movements, his eyes looking at her like he actually did love her, even when he had never said it.

“I love you, Steve”. She said. Completely hypnotized by his brown eyes.

He froze in place, he looked so shocked and almost hurt at her confession.

“You don’t”. Steve said while he stand.

“What do you mean?”. She asked, hurt. “Maybe you don’t love me but I do love you”.

“C’mon, y/n. I’m sure you don’t, not now at least. You said it for the heat of the moment”. Steve was angry.

“So you don’t validate my feelings but if it was another girl you would love it?”. Steve looked at her.

“What?”.

“I said it because I meant it. For me it’s a big deal, I’m sorry if this word cause problems before, but you need to know that I’m not your ex”. She didn’t realize that she was crying until the cold air hit her face.

“I had enough of girls saying that word without any type of emotional consideration”. Steve said.

“I’m not her. I’m me, sorry if that is not enough or if you still expect for her to say it even now”. Her words where mumbled through the crying and her breathing was uneven, she was hurt.

“I’m not saying you’re Nancy. I’m saying that those are big words, something you said when you really mean it. We’ve been dating for three months, y/n”. Steve looked so hurt.

“And I know that. I meant it, every word. I’m sorry if this cause any problems but sometimes I think you are building walls for me to not me able to get to you. That hurts, Steve. I’m not gonna hurt you, never”.

[end of flashback]

She felt like the air was dense every time she tried to hang out with him, fixing things wasn’t working, losing him will be painful. Maybe it was for the best, he wasn’t completely heal from his last relationship and maybe she pressed too hard, maybe this was her fault.

“It’s gonna be fine”. Robin said while looking at her with empathy.

“He’s gonna break up with me, Robin. And it’s okay, I tried way to hard to be like the prom queens he used to date with”. The tears began falling.

“He overreact, that’s a fact. But I’m sure he loves you, he’s just so scared of love itself”. Maybe Robin was right.

“I’m not good enough, it went from completely mesmerized by me to not even stand being with me in the same fucking car. Maybe the best thing I can do is run, because sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel him and I just miss him. I wish he has a better man. I don’t wanna tell him goodbye”. She put her head on her legs, trying to hide how broken she felt.

“Let’s go out tonight, at the forest and have a nice night looking at the stars, like we used to do in high school”. Robin rubbed her back.

“Yes, that will be nice”. She looked at her.

“C’mon, y/n. It will get better”. Robin smile.

[***]

“I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood”. Y/n looked at him, standing in de dim light of her room. Steve looked at y/n and knew she was hurt.

He had overreacted, of course. But he didn’t want to be hurt again, and she was right, the walls he build were thicker that he would like to admit, but dating with her, knowing her was the best thing that happened to him in the last year, he was still trying to portrait himself like the king but she knew that he was going through something, she was so caring and honest and he fell for her, hard.

“Let’s go, please”. Steve said.

“I think it’s better if we go for separate ways for a while, it’s clear that I’d hurt you and I’m sorry”. Y/n was trying so hard to not cry, to look stronger that she was, but when she looked at him she broke.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I never meant to pressure you into loving me or into the relationship itself, I thought we were ready but it’s clearly that we’re not”. Steve try to get closer to her and she took a few steps back.

“Don’t, please”. Steve said. “I fucked up, y/n”.

“You need time to think if this is what you want. I’ll never gonna love again, Steve. You show me colors that I can’t see with anyone else, for you I will ruin myself a million little times. But I need to have all of you, I need you fully comprise with this, otherwise we will end up heartbroken and I don’t want that, you don’t deserve that”.

She breath out, with her arms crossed and close to her, in his sweater, still with his essence all over the room, looking at his brown eyes and the beautiful face he got. She loved him and it kill her to think that he didn’t. Steve looked back at her, his eyes glistening, he never wanted to hurt her, but maybe she was right and time was what they needed.

“I will leave, y/n”. Steve said clearing his throat to make the sentence stronger.

“It’s fine, Steve. I’ll wait”. Y/n smile weakly at him.

[***]

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks without him. It felt wrong when all they’ve done was be together.

“He’s here”. Robin said. “And his definitely not alone”.

Y/n looked through the window of family video and in his car there was a beautiful blonde girl, she was gorgeous and definitely his type, she felt like something hit her stomach and all the air was knocked out of her, her eyes sting. He went out of the car and direct to the store.

“Hey, ladies”. Steve was clearly a bit drunk.

“You are driving is that state?”. Robin asked angry.

“Is really not that big of a deal”. Steve responded while holding a few tapes that where on the front desk.

“Hold him here, I’ll be back”. Y/n went out the store to check on the girl and Robin tried to distract Steve.

“Hey, you ok?”. She asked and the girl looked annoyed to her.

“Where’s Steve?”. She asked. “He supposed to take me a to a party but he definitely was drinking in his house and then pick me up drunk at mine”. The girl wasn’t drunk so she could definitely go the party on her own.

“Yeah, he’s not going to keep driving like that and I would appreciate if you just…”

“Yeah, you must be y/n. He doesn’t stop talking about you and it’s annoying so you are right, I better leave”. The girl said.

“Thank you and I’m sorry for the inconvenience”.

“Nah, it’s fine. Plus he is like super in love with you”. The girl said while getting out of the car.

“Be careful”. Y/n said and the girl jus nodded and walk away.

She needed to recompose, her mouth was dry, and somehow her heart was beating way to fast, she was nervous, terrified in fact. She walked to the store.

“Ok, Steve. Let’s go”. Y/n said. “Do you mind closing, Robin?” She asked.

“No, it’s fine. You guys can go”. Robin smile. “And you dickhead, stop this, otherwise I will pu…”.

“Robin…”. Y/n laugh.

“Fine, fine. Just be careful”. Robin said.

“Where’s my date?”. He asked while the both leave the store.

“She’s gone. I can’t believe you would put her and yourself in danger, Steve. That’s stupid”. She breath out.

“I’m sorry. I’m a mess”. She agreed. “Wait, you have your drivers license now?” She nodded. “I’m sorry, I promised that I will go with you”.

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry, plus with you there maybe I could get nervous and ruin everything”.

“How could you ruin something? You are so freaking perfect”. She smiled weakly knowing that probably it was the alcohol talking.

She was driving to his house, his parents probably were out of town.

“Steve, I’m in love with you. Still and probably I will always be”. Steve smiled.

“I’m in love with you too”. He whispered.

[***]

The blinds were completely open and Steve felt like the sun was sucking the life out of him.

“Good morning”. She said while she opened the door with to cups of coffee on her hands.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I mean, I remember everything but god, well not quite but some thing’s”. He said while sitting on the bed.

“It’s okay, Steve. Nothing to be ashamed off”. Y/n give him a cup and he started drinking.

“We need to talk”. He said. “No, I’m going to talk and you will listen like I did the last time”. She nodded and he breathed heavily.

Steve was nervous and he intended to talk to her the day before but he cowardly drink to do so, which only made him do stupid things.

“First off, yes, we needed time. But I didn’t needed time to know that I was in love with you, I knew that. I needed time to have the courage to said it out loud. I’m in love with you, and I was scared to death, I am scared to death”. Steve said nervous.

“Second of all. You are wrong, I don’t want you to be like anyone else. I want you to be you, the freaky girl I’m in love with. And you telling me you love me made me realize how honest you were, it freaked me out because I never heard someone saying that word with so much honesty”. Steve smile.

“She is your first love, Steve. I know that’s something you don’t forget…” y/n said.

“And third, maybe I’m hoping you will be my last love, y/n. I was an douchbag, trying to deny myself what I felt for you, since we started dating my life it’s better, more brighter. You make things better for me”. Steve got out of the bed, leaving the tea on the nightstand and walk towards her.

Y/n felt weak, dizzy, his words imprinted in her mind, knowing that he was scared of all his feelings for her, she was scared too.

“You are braver than me, y/n. That’s for sure”. Steve smile and finally when he was close enough he kissed her, slowly.

“I want you to be my last love too, Steve”. She smiled and deepened the kiss.

“This time I will let the walls down, I will let you in completely, y/n. I love you”. Steve smiled at her and hold her.

Y/n stayed in his arms while his words imprinted on her like indeleble marks.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #taylor swift #steve harrington smut #joe keery

[theminecraftbee]

Ok so I know nobody cares about empires musical anymore but I was re-watching it and here’s all the lore I could find in your old friend xornoth:

* He seems convinced that when he succeeds in world domination, the world will be his. Either this means that exor is little more than an idea and xornoth is the one truly in power here, or it’s a Darth Vader-palpatine type situation where he thinks he’s doing it for himself but it’s all going to go to exor in the end

* He refers to himself as “big daddy xorxor… or for short xorny” which is hilarious I’ll admit, but he also uses the line “that’s what they call me”. That’s what who calls you? There are two possibilities. The first is that he’s referring to the people in his life before he became the demon. However, this is unlikely because he uses call in present tense, implying that he still has contact with these people. The other option has to do with “demon high school and demon college”, which I’ll touch on later

* Here we have the lines “pour me out some ichor/fill it to the brim/blood’s getting thicker/sippin’ as I sin”. I don’t believe this has much to do with the actual lore, but it is really funny to me because it sounds like a thirteen year old who just got back from hot topic and decided that they are the most tortured soul in the universe. Does demon college have demon hot topic? A question I never thought I’d have to ask myself

* Here we also have some fun lines, “you’ll learn, I’ll never return/to the boredom I was born of” which I find funny bc it makes me imagine that the former king and queen of Rivendell got bored one day, fucked, and xornoth came out

* Ok this might be my favorite part. In Lizzies pinned comment, she says “backing vocals by Maddie”. I am going to assume that the voice we here next is this Maddie. Maddie might be the best thing ever come out of music, in my opinion. For anyone who doesn’t want to look up the lyrics or doesn’t have them memorized already, she says “Scotts in the library getting kinda wise/says he’s got a plan for xorxor’s demise/xorny doesn’t care though/says he isn’t scared so/read a book, try your luck, xorny doesn’t really give a - “.

* Now, this is far from the first time we’ve heard Maddie‘s voice in the musical. She has a very high voice and has done backing vocals throughout practically all of the songs. It almost sounds childish, making her parts exceptionally funny.

* It is worth noting that your old friend xornoth is the only time that she actually speaks any words. What makes her especially interesting is that it seems that Xornoth, unlike the rest of the cast, can hear her. Once she says her bit about the library, Xornoth seemingly replies to her with “for your information I’ve got an education/Scott never showed up to my graduation/first demon high school then demon college/where’d you think I got all of this demon knowledge/demon University top of every class/you think you can catch me in a little bit of glass”. He goes on, but after this he’s not addressing Maddie so I’m gonna ignore it for now.

* I kind of wanna mention that he says the phrase embellishing my lore here, implying that he knows that he’s part of a story, but that kind of tears down absolutely everything else I know about this universe so I’m just gonna assume it’s an Easter egg and ignore it

* Also that in the lyrics he does the thing where you use an apostrophe to put two words together I don’t know what it’s fucking called but it almost sounds like he has a southern accent and that’s kind of funny to me

* Anyways back to Maddie. Xornoth does the chorus of the song again and then Maddie fucking giggles and says “look what they’re doing now writin’ out a spell/The demon from the east is goin’ back to hell/got a list of things that’ll make xor cower/they’ve got the smarts and they’ve got more power”.

* Maddie does the almost southern apostrophe thingy

* In reply, xornoth says (while approaching the empire characters, might I add) “if you want power well Xornoth’s got some/I pack more punch than a sawn-off shotgun/i’ve got more action than die hard 2/and your little faction’s a try hard crew”. I almost want to believe that this means the in-game empire‘s characters can hear Maddie too. However, they don’t seem to react to her at all. Therefore, I think that this is just her almost telling him what to do or giving him ideas for his speech. The more I say this the more it seems that the mysterious disembodied Maddie and Xornoth are friends.

* Also I’m not sure what to do with the modern day references. Maybe the way we have fairytales about like elves and knights and shit they have fairytales about our world?

* As xornoth continues on with his chorus, Maddie starts adding in her own comments between his lines. Her words go as followed: “trap him in a cell and keep him off the streets/listen to him yell, they’re tamin’ the beast/charmed like halliwell, never be released/yeah! Headin’ back to Rivendell, cookin’ up a feast”

* It is at this point that I actually googled the lyrics and realized that Maddie does not, in fact, do Xornoth’s apostrophe thing. I am ignoring this for the sake of my own interpretation. You’ve heard of the world is your oyster? Get ready for canon is your oyster.

* I looked up halliwell here. Apparently she’s a singer from Spice Girls and under people Also ask, it said Who is the most powerful charmed one so I’m assuming this is just another modern reference

* I have never heard a Spice Girls song in my life but I think it’d be funny if they still existed in the universe except they were like from one of the kingdoms or some shit. Maybe Spice Girls is like a famous Rivendell band I don’t know. I’m just making shit up at this point btw

* Let’s get back to Maddie. I feel like saying she’s just Xornoth’s friend is a bit misleading at this point. I would almost label her as a younger sister. Due to my general lack of knowledge about her abilities, the mysteriousness around her, and the childishness of both her voice and the things that she does I almost feel the need to compare her with the collector from owl house. I wish I could fit her simply into the lore by saying that she’s xornoth‘s friend from demon high school and/or demon college, but since he has to explicitly tell her that he went there I don’t think that’s the case. She spends most of the story hanging around Lizzie, as evidenced by her appearance in the vocals of other songs. However Lizzie never mentions her, so I have to assume that Lizzie cannot hear her. Whether or not Lizzie knows that she’s in a musical is not some thing I’m willing to tackle at this point.

* I feel the need to draw comparison also to oli. He doesn’t show up in this song, but he’s present in some others. In prismarine, he almost seems like he’s asking Lizzie about this experience, or she’s telling the story to him. He also voices the prophecies. It seems odd to me that Lizzie would be able to hear him when she couldn’t hear Maddie, but perhaps there is some kind of difference between them, or they can choose who can hear them. Though I find the second point unlikely because there’s no real reason Maddie would choose to not have the other characters hear her. Perhaps they’re some kind of minor gods? We know that Lizzie is often called a goddess so it’s not unreasonable to think there might be others. I’m not entirely sure about this, but it does tickle my brain in a fun way

* Now it’s time to talk about demon college. Oh this is a fun one. I know that everybody and their mother has made jokes about this but I feel like it raises some really interesting questions. Xornoth is clearly upset that Scott didn’t show up to his graduation, but explicitly states that it’s Demon high school and demon college. As far as we know, Scott is very specifically the champion of aeor. There is no reason for him to be here. I feel like there are two possible answers here. The first is that Scott truly was set to be on the same path as his brother, but broke free. However, this doesn’t really add up with the rest of his lore.

* The second one, and the one that I like better, it’s a bit more complicated. It says that exor wanted to train his champion in a way that wasn’t too different from what he was used to as to not make the change to sudden. This could also be just to help him with his people skills so that he would be able to give dramatic villainous monologues instead of stumbling when he first sees a human being again. Therefore, I propose that exor took the existing, Rivendell, elven High school and college and made an illusion of it that instead taught things that a demon would need to know. It would assumingly we have all the same people as the real one. Therefore, our old friend xornoth could mean that the illusion Scott didn’t come to his graduation bc the real one wouldn’t to make it more realistic.

* This also implies that at some point both Scott and xornoth were college kids. Do with that what you will.

* This also brings the line of “Big daddy xorxor/that’s what they call me/or for short xorny” into question. He might be referring to Maddie and/or oli. However, it might also be a college nickname. I like these both because they’re equally funny

* Actually now I’m thinking about the top of every class line. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe actually Exor just takes a shit ton of kids every year and puts them into a school program and then the one that ends up being the best is chosen as his champion and the rest of them make like I don’t know a town of evilness. Now I wish the empires crew just randomly stumbled upon that and they were like what the fuck is going on here

* The fact that Scott didn’t show up to his graduation implies that they’re not twins btw I just realize that

* Still not sure how Maddie fits into any of this but I love her anyways

* In conclusion: holy shit I need to do this more often this was really fun

Anyway I just thought I’d share this it’s not very coherent but I like it

holy shit anon you have done. SO MUCH analysis here.

#answered #empires smp #WOOO WAY TO GET EMPIRES THE MUSICAL LORE I THINK