#like most songs that dig up memories or emotions out of you do it in like a general(?) sense but i literally saw exact moments of my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghost-proofbaby · 1 month

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.

This moment is no different.

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight.

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.

Always have, always will.

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.

You’d forgotten just how well you know him.

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”

“Please what, Sugar?”

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”

You mean more than just the sex.

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.

You don’t know when the tears started.

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.

“When I get back, all I care about is you.”

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

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jessmaybank · 1 year

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Friends - JJ Maybank & Rafe Cameron

Based on the song Friends by Chase Atlantic

Outer banks x Chase Atlantic masterlist

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Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x fem! Pogue reader & Rafe Cameron x fem! Pogue reader.

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: ever wondered what happens when you fall in love with two people at once? Well, the answer is pure chaos.

Warnings: swearing, drug use, alcohol use, lots of angst!!, SMUT, thigh riding, nipple play,

AN: mutual pining, angst, jealousy & everything in between. in the words of Katherine Pierce, it’s ok to love them both.

Girl, tell me what you're doing on the other side

And tell, just tell me what you're doing with that other guy

'Cause I ain't got patience to slow down the pace

“That’s it, just like that” Rafe says, his voice hoarse as his nails dig into her bare hips, helping her ride his thigh. Turns out, Rafe Cameron isn’t as selfish in the bedroom as he is in any other situation, and it made her dizzy.

She had just started seeing the oldest Cameron, and although she was a pogue through and through, he didn’t care. When it came to her, he was willing to bend all of his rules. She just had that effect on him.

Her moans spiral out of control as she bucks her hips onto his bare thigh, her clit rubbing against his skin harshly. Her arousal was coating his thigh, and he swore it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Her manicured nails dug into his arms, her head coming up from its place on his shoulder to look at him. His blue orbs glistened with lust, a sight she never thought she would see from the one and only Rafe Cameron.

“Good girl” he whispers, her pussy clenching around nothing at his seductive words. Rafe was rock hard, his desire for her overwhelming him as she got off on him, his self control crumbling a little more every time she moaned his name.

It took everything in him not to spin her around, pin her against the mattress and fuck her deep, but he knew better. He wanted to see her come undone just from the feeling of his skin.

He turned his attention to the bikini top she was wearing, reaching around to untie it from the back of her neck.

She came over to swim in his pool, the summer heat unbearable, but evidently they never made it that far.

He pulled her bikini top down, her breasts now on display for him. She wasn’t exactly the most experienced girl, and usually she would be self conscious, but for some reason it felt normal with Rafe. She could see the need for her in his eyes whenever they would see each other, and so she always felt comfortable and wanted around him.

He ran his thumb over her hardened nipple, his other hand still guiding her hips as she rode him. He then leant forward, his tongue latching on to her Nipple, swirling it around the sensitive bud. She whimpered above him, her blissful state apparent as he then observed her unfocused and lidded eyes.

“Rafe, i-“ she starts, cut off by her own moans as she reached her climax, her legs starting to spasm as she came undone. He helped her ride through her high, grinding her hips against his now drenched thigh, a groan leaving his lips as he took in the sight before him.

He planted warm kisses along her shoulder blade, her heavy breathing the only sound which occupied the room.

Hours later, she walked up the wooden steps on the chateau porch, a satisfied smile spread across her features at the memories of earlier.

The evening light was dim as she dug into her pocket for her keys, retrieving the small piece of metal, before unlocking the front door and walking inside.

“Where have you been” JJ says, her head turning to face him as he sits on the couch, the faint sound of the tv playing in the background.

A mix of emotions wash over her as his eyes meet his. If she was telling the truth, she would have to admit that she had been in love with JJ ever since they were little. He had always taken care of her, even when he was at his lowest, and for that reason her heart had always been his, hell maybe it still was. But she never had the guts to tell him how she felt, too scared of loosing the most important person in her life.

“Out” she says bluntly.

“All day?”

“Are you ganna keep grilling me for much longer J? Im exhausted” she says, walking over to dump her belongings on the chair next to the couch. She was being moodier than usual, and that’s when JJ knew something was up.

“Who were you with?” He asks, his protective nature apparent as he peers up at her from the couch, taking a swig of his beer.

“Just some friends” she says, a pang of guilt hitting her chest as soon as she said it. She hated lying to the person she loved the most, but she knew JJ wouldn’t approve of her and Rafe. Rafe had a reputation for being a spoilt kook that played with girls hearts, and no way would JJ let him mess with her.

JJ knew she was lying. He always managed to see straight through her, even when she put on her best poker face like she was right now.

“Bullshit” he said, standing up from the couch, his jaw clenched.

Although JJ was her whole world, she got seriously sick of waiting for him. She spent countless nights crying over her seemingly unrequited love, and she vowed that from now on, she would do whatever she could to be happy, even if that meant being with someone that wasn’t him.

She scoffed at him, running her hands through her hair, a reflection of her stressed out state.

“Goodnight, JJ” she says, annoyance laced in her voice as she stormed off to the spare room.

He observed her walking away from him, paying close attention to how her hips swayed so elegantly as her figure disappeared into the hallway. His features softened once she was out of sight, instantly regretting how harsh he was with her, before sitting back down on the worn-out couch, alone with his thoughts once again.

All your girlfriends are wasted

They need it, they chase it

Face it, you want it, you crave it

Believe when I say that you'll know once you taste it

The sun had just started to set as they pulled up to the kegger, a light breeze flowing through the air. The beach was swarmed with young adults, most of which were already drunk.

She sat around the fire with Sarah and Kiara, alcohol cursing through her veins. The boys had left to play beer pong, a perfect excuse for some girly chat. Once she was drunk enough, she finally plucked up the courage to tell her girlfriends the secret she had been hiding.

“I’ve kind of been seeing Rafe” she says to her friends, and Sarah’s eyes practically pop out of her head, Kiara’s wide eyes following shortly after.

“Oh my god” Sarah says, her face full of shock.

“please don’t be mad” she says, a quizzical look gracing her features as she internally cringes.

“I’m not mad” Sarah starts, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “I just always thought you would end up with JJ”

This time, it was her eyes widening. Kie gave Sarah a small glare, one that suggested she said something she shouldn’t have. She had never told anyone about her crush on JJ, surely it wasn’t that obvious?

“What makes you say that?” She asks, causing a crooked smile to form on Sarah’s face.

“Sarah, don’t” Kie says, but her attempts were halfhearted, their drunk states an inviting cause for gossip.

“Oh shush kie, the girl has a right to know” Sarah says, her amusement obvious as kie rolls her eyes.

“Oh my god, Sarah spill!” She says, her patience wearing thin.

“Okay, okay. JJ…likes you. He has for ages. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.” Sarah says.

Her heart skipped a beat at Sarah’s confession, the words ringing in her head over and over again. JJ likes you.

“For real?”

“For real” Kie confirms, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe.

“Oh my god. I have to talk to him” she says, leaping up from her seat and making a beeline for the beer pong table, ignoring the shouts from the girls.

“JJ” she shouts, catching the blondes attention. He turns his head towards her, and time starts to slow.

“I- um can I talk to you? In private” she says, fidgeting with her fingers as she mentally begs her heart to stop beating so fast.

“Sure” he says, a confused look on his face. She grabbed his hand and dragged him all the way down to the shore, the music from the party acting as background music to their conversation. The sun had set by now, and the night sky cast a dim glow over them as they perched on the sand.

“What’s wrong?” He says, concern laced in his voice as they sat side by side, their heads turned to face one another.

“I- um” she starts, clearly not drunk enough for this conversation as her nerves got the best of her. JJ’s eyes were tinged with worry, scared something bad had happened.

He reached his hand out, resting it on her thigh, rubbing his thumb on her soft skin. Although it was a small and simple gesture, it was enough to set her skin on fire.

“Do…do you like me?”

JJ’s eyes widened, that was the last thing he was expecting her to say. The one thing he hated most in the world was his vulnerability, and here she was, asking him to pour his heart out to her.

The blonde retracted his hand from her thigh and shot up, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he stands, preparing himself to lie through his teeth to the girl he has loved ever since they met.

“What- of course not, why would you think that?” He says, his tone harsh as he breaks her heart into two for what felt like the thousandth time. He knew he shouldn’t lie, that he should just grow some balls and tell her, but he was too scared of loosing her. So instead, his defences came up, and his exterior became cold.

She stood up to face him. “I don’t know, Sarah said-“ her words were cut off as he scoffed.

“That girl can’t keep her mouth shut, always bullshitting about something” he says, and her eyes began to water.

Her whole body felt like it was about to give way at any moment, her legs week as she faced the man that just broke her heart. Although she had genuine feelings for Rafe, JJ was always in the back of her head.

“Wow, my bad. I didn’t realise how disgusted you were by the idea of liking me” she said, vision blurry as her eyes started to sting. She needed to get out of there before JJ saw how distraught she was. She turned on her heel, practically sprinting away from him, heading back up to to the party.

He tried to put his arm out to stop her, but she shrugged him off instantly.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I- fuck” he says, throwing his cap onto the floor as he kicks the sand, his frustration evident as he once again watches her walking away from him.

She stormed back up to the crowds of drunk people, walking past the fire where her friends sat, ignoring them as they called her name. JJ returned to the party shortly after, slumping himself down next to kie, his head in hands as he lets out a sigh.

“What the hell did you do?” Kiara says, and not even JJ knew how to answer that question.

Just give me some time and space to realize

That you, were busy lying, sleeping 'round with other guys

After about twenty minutes of contemplation, it seemed she had ran out of options. She couldn’t go back to the chateau, not ready to face JJ yet. So, she turned to the only other person she knew that could make her feel better.

She gave the door a halfhearted knock, the tension in her shoulders somewhat subsiding as the front door opened.

“Hey” Rafe said, a mix of concern and confusion laced within his features as he peered down at her.

Without thinking, she practically leaped through the door, hooking her arms around his neck. He hugged her back immediately, his warm body making her melt into his arms as his hands snaked around her waist.

“I’m sorry, i didn’t know where else to go”

“Are you ok? What happened?” He said pulling back from the hug slightly so they were face to face. The way he was so concerned was warming her heart, already beginning to pick up the pieces that JJ broke.

“I don’t wanna talk” she said, meaning every word. Her need for Rafe had never been so strong, and she wanted nothing more than for him to take her pain away. Her eyes darted to his lips, then back up to his eyes, before she kissed him.

He was hesitant at first, but after a few seconds he kissed her back, lost in the feeling of her soft lips. He grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up so her legs were wrapped around his waist, kicking the front door shut before carrying her up the stairs.

When they reached his room, he threw her on the bed, her breasts bouncing through her top as she hit the mattress, and that was the moment Rafe realised he was completely and utterly infatuated with her. He took off his shirt, discarding it on the floor before climbing onto the bed, hovering over her petite frame.

“Have you been crying?” He says, the exposure to his bedroom light clearly showing the way her mascara was smudged under her eyes, her cheeks holding a faint redness. Rafes heart felt like it had sank to his feet as he looked at her, his blackened orbs once again filled with concern.

“Kinda. I had a fight with my friends” she said, partially telling the truth. She was expecting him to make a snarky pogue comment, but he never did. Instead, he ran his finger under her eyes, wiping away the evidence of her pain.

“Next time you cry, you call me straight away, okay?” He says, and her face lit up at his sweet words. “I will, I promise”

And then, he kissed her.

And what the hell were we?

Tell me we weren't just friends

This doesn't make much sense, no

But I'm not hurt, I'm tense

'Cause I'll be fine without you, babe

The next morning, Rafe dropped her off at the chateau, a cheesy grin painted on both their faces as he kissed her goodbye.

The warm fuzzy feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach was replaced with nervousness as soon as she got out of the car, walking round the corner to the front of the house. She froze as she saw JJ sitting on the wooden bench on the porch, the remains of a joint dangling from his mouth as he inhaled, letting the smoke engulf his probably damaged lungs. How was he always there whenever she came home?

“Who was that?” He says, his tone stern as he heard someone pull out of the driveway.

“No one” she said, making her way up to the front door. Her dainty hands reached for the doorknob, but JJ’s reflexes were quick. He chucked his joint, stood up and grabbed her arm, stopping her movements.

“You didn’t come home last night. I was worried sick. And now your hiding who you were with? What’s the matter with you?”

She scoffed, an obvious annoyance gracing her features as she rolled her eyes at the boy which once had her heart, the boy who used to be her everything. Now, her heart shattered just a little bit more every time she stared into those blue eyes.

“Fine. I was with Rafe. Is that what you wanna hear?” She said, and it was like a dagger sliced straight through JJ’s heart.

“Rafe? Is that a fucking joke, after everything he did to me and pope?” He shouts, referring to the multiple fights that the boys had with Rafe. Other than his father, JJ had never felt so betrayed by someone he loved, and if looks could kill, she would be dead in an instant.

“He’s changed. He’s not like that anymore”

JJ let out a sarcastic laugh. “Your so naive”

“Why do you even care who I’m with?” She said with sass, crossing her arms over her chest as she sent him a glare.

“I don’t-“

“Clearly you do. You always ask questions, your always too protective-“

“Your my friend, of course im-“

“look me in eyes, and tell me we’re just friends JJ” she says, her eyes practically burning holes into his blue orbs. His lips parted as she finished her sentence, his skin starting to grow hot.

It didn’t make sense to her. All those nights they spent together, cuddling up to watch a movie, or going for a late night swim after everyone else had gone to bed. Whenever she got too drunk at parties, he would take her home, take off her makeup for her and tuck her into bed. He had never done any of those things with anyone else, and she couldn’t fathom the possibility that he didn’t feel the same things she did.

What she didn’t know, was that JJ had always struggled with his feelings. He was never very good with words, and it was hard for him to express himself, even around the people he was most comfortable with. One thing he was good at though, was making impulsive descisions.

So, without putting too much thought into it, he leached forward, pinning her against the front door, their warm bodies pressed together. She gasped at the contact, her mouth agape as she studied his face. His face was littered with tiny cuts, his bruised features a perfect picture to her.

And without saying a word, he kissed her.

Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved

Running in circles, now look what you've done

Give you my word as you take it and run

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

At first, she let herself sink into the kiss, her soft lips a stark contrast to his rough ones. His hands came up to cup her flushed cheeks, and she melted under his touch. Her insides practically caught alight as JJ’s tongue dove into her mouth, dominating hers instantly.

JJ groaned into her mouth at the taste of her, and that’s when she snapped back into reality.

“What the fuck” she shouts, pushing her best friend away from her small frame, her eyes wide as she tries to calm her beating heart.

“Shit. I’m sorry-“

“That’s not Fair, JJ. You can’t just kiss me” she says, eyes glossy as she peers up at him. JJ, however, couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“I just, I thought-“

“No. I’ve spent most of my life waiting for you to make a move. Waiting for you to admit that you feel the same things I do” she starts, and JJs gaze met hers then, his face softening at the realisation that she actually has feelings for him too.

“But instead, you denied it when I asked you, making me feel like a complete and utter idiot. Then, as soon as you find out I have feelings for someone else, you kiss me? What is wrong with you?” She says, her words shaky as she pours her heart out to him.

“You have feelings for him?” He asks, his jaw clenching as he asks the question.

After a few seconds, she nods her head, and the pain swimming around within JJ’s eyes did not go unnoticed by her, his stare falling to his shoes as he takes in the information.

JJ had never been so angry at himself. If he just grew some balls and told her how he felt a long time ago, none of this would have happened, and she would of been his. Now, she was someone else’s, and his sadness was completely suffocating.

“Huh” he says, nodding his head, a cold look on his face. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met JJ” she replies, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

The blondes heart felt like it had split into a million pieces, spilling out of his chest at a rapid rate. He had never felt this type of heartache, and it was eating him alive.

“Then you have to choose” he says, bringing a finger up to wipe her tears away, her eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

“I can’t” she says, his efforts to stop her tears failing as they now pour out of her like a waterfall.

JJ shakes his head at her reply, face screwed up as he takes a few steps back from her, the disappointment laced within his features making her heart hurt.

“Then I’ll make it simple for you” he says, turning on his feet and walking away from the girl he once thought was his everything.

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

I'm not ready, eyes heavy now

Wish you'd let me stay, I'm ready now

____________________________________________

I love this concept sm, If you guys want a part 2 with a happy ending let me know, but I’m kinda loving this angst era rn.

#obx #outer banks #drew starkey #jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank smut #jj mayback x reader #rudy pankow #jj outer banks #rafe cameron smut

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winedrunkwords · 2 years

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can you give me a kiss? (make it soft)

pairing: james potter x reader

summary: the one where emotional exhaustion's got nothing on james potter [1.1k]

warnings: emotionally draining parents, shit-ton of fluff.

⚔️

you don't remember sitting down. somewhere between your key slotting into the lock and staring at the lit but silent tv screen, you collapse onto the couch. the only other lights in the apartment are the hallway lights, spilling onto the carpet under your feet from the open doorway. there's music accompanying it, quiet but grungy.

it's been a long day. you've fallen out of the emotional work that it takes to exist around your parents; constantly analyzing the words you say before they spill out isn't something you do every day. thinking ahead of every decision and playing out every action is less customary than before, and now you can see why you got so drained so quickly before you left. it's strange, not knowing how much you think about every aspect of existing before you actually exist until you don't have to do it anymore. it's almost sad.

there's something sad under the exhaustion but you don't have the energy to dig it out.

your head drops back, sliding forward so it's leaning on the back of the couch. it feels like there's a weight that is shed off you at the front door that you didn't notice until it was gone. the song playing is from one of james's records and you smile tiredly recognizing it; he plays it so often you could mouth the words in your sleep. you half wish you'd stayed here with him instead of leaving, reading in bed while he talked about his games or his friends or his thoughts. you would've gone out with him under the pretense of helping him train, just watching him and attempting his workouts after so you could see the fond smile he gives you when you try.

the man of the hour says your name, sounding like he's said it before and you didn't hear it the first couple of times. you open your eyes -- when did you close them? -- to see him standing at the doorway, the light that was spilling out onto the carpet sneaking past him and shining from behind him. he looks like an angel, halo light softly illuminating his curls and the soft, worried smile he gives you.

you have half a mind to call him angel, to see the way he smiles when you compliment him. james has a really nice smile. "hi," you say instead, quietly.

his smile slips into something fond, three steps to the left of the smile he gives you when he's flustered. that's just as good. "you look exhausted," he says.

"you're so sweet to me."

he walks up to you, flicking one of the lamps in the corner on as he does. it's not bright enough to have you flinching away from it, just enough that you can see the way he runs a hand through his hair, the design on his t-shirt, the pants you tend to steal so you can match. when he's looming over you and you still don't move, melted into the couch, he grins the way he does when he's got an idea he thinks is fucking hilarious, and he sits right on your lap. he's straddling you, the way you do him often enough that it is muscle memory, still looming over you.

his whole weight is on your lap. the couch is soft enough that you can handle it, and you're used to it. you like it when he lays on you while you're sleeping, like this weighted blanket with horrible sight and great hair and arms that always seem two seconds away from ripping apart his sleeves. he knows you can handle it, that you like it most of the time. the weight helps ground you on days like this when you're exhausted and need to not have to choose.

his hands cradle your head softly, slipping up your neck, thumbs right by your ears and his palm right under your jaw. "hi there, darling," he whispers. his voice is deep and almost disappears into the dark.

"hi," you whisper back, even quieter than before. it's barely enough breath to be a sigh. he tilts your head up and kisses you, languid and deep. you love all the ways he kisses you, sometimes quick and energetic that gets you feeling like you chugged caffeine for three straight hours, sometimes like this. kisses like this are like sinking into bed after walking around all day, finally getting off your feet, getting to breathe again, and only having to focus on the way the air feels in your lungs. your heart stutters in your chest when he pulls you closer, his shoulder drawing up like he wants to drag you into him. you know he can feel the way your heart jerks.

he pulls away, just enough that his lips are brushing over yours, and he comes back and kisses you again and again. you're warm all over, like stretching out in the sun, and your brain is gone. fully mush. you almost can't remember why you were upset in the first place, with the way his lips are sealed up on yours and the way he explores your mouth, not like he's devouring you but like he's bringing you back. this is where you belong, just wrapped up in the place you chose together.

your hands come up around his waist, under the shirt, and you feel him smile into your mouth. "someone's eager," he murmurs. you would tease him back, ask who's on whose lap, but he's not kissing you anymore and that's unacceptable right now. instead, you hum, pout a little, and he grins and pulls you back in.

thousands of years later, he pulls away again. one of your hands is wrapped up in his hair, the other still on his waist like he does with you sometimes. his skin is warm and soft under your palm, and when your brain logs back online, you realize you're drawing nonsense designs on the skin with your nails, scraping over his skin and soothing the goosebumps that follow. your chest feels like a warm bath, hot enough to almost sting. you don't know how you can still breathe.

"better?" he murmurs, smiling at the way your eyes have glazed over, the way you track his lips and lean forward, tugging on his waist.

"immensely," you tell him, "do it again, please."

the musician isn't singing anymore, just an electric guitar that sounds as gentle as he deserves, drifting down the hall and wrapping around the both of you like your blankets do when it's freezing outside. james leans in again, right as the chords sound like falling, silver stars.

⚔️

thank you so much for reading! this is entirely projecting because i'm the kind of person who loves it when people sit on my lap. it's really comforting.

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7grandmel · 2 months

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Todays rip: 21/03/2024

Poké Village

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume C

Ripped by XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX

youtube

I've yapped on and on before on here about what the true core of SiIvaGunner is, be it comedy, emotion, shitposting, community, lore, what have you. There obviously isn't one true answer to that question: it's all subjective, not just based on your own reading of the channel, but your own experiences with it. As an aspiring writer, I love digging deep into its narrative and theming, the stuff found in Nice, Slick, Blackness and NIGHTMARESCAPE 〜Unrestrained HyperCam 2〜 (Final Boss Phase 2) - but other people are far more invested in the act of ripping itself, the people who go the mile beyond that even I do and keep up with all the various fan channels, or even make rips themselves. But no matter your angle, there's one thing that binds everything together, the thing that Poké Village and so many other rips represent. To share what you love, and love what others share.

I'm sure that at this point, Violet Snow Memories is one of my most-linked posts on this blog, but that's exactly because it represents that theme so well. Kyle Hyde's duology of DS Adventure games aren't exactly worldwide phenomenons, yet there are still people out there - people like Uncle Fill - who wish to share their love for the games in any way they can. And in turn, I myself have enjoyed hundreds of rips representing games and franchises I've never really engaged with much, franchises like Touhou with Imperial Touwer or Sable with Sable's Stickerbush. But it doesn't really matter whether or not I'M a fan of these series, when its ever-so-evident just how much the people making these rips love them, the love you can see in the rips themselves. And hell, I've said it before and I'll say it again: It was Chaze the Chat's love for Maroon 5 as a band, its early history and distinct style highlighted in the rips on SiIvaGunner, rips like As Miku Collides, that got ME invested in the band in return. Each ripper on SiIvaGunner, each contributor and fan submitter, wishes to share a piece of themselves with SiIva's audience, and it's truly heartwarming to see how many of us are able to look beyond the boundaries of fandom to appreciate real quality.

Which, then, brings us back to Poké Village - a rip featuring the Pokke Village theme from the Monster Hunter series. First appearing when the series was still primarily on the PlayStation Portable, and only reappearing on the core-fan installment Monster Hunter Generations. The franchise is far from niche, the song far from obscure - but it still isn't exactly a theme known to those *outside* of the Monster Hunter sphere, in the way that we for instance all know the tune of Green Hill Zone without having played a Sonic game. SiIvaGunner isn't exactly a gathering spot for the Monster Hunter community (the games themselves have a pitiful amount of rips on the channel), but by just Poké Village alone, you may be fooled into thinking otherwise.

What XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX's created here is a beautiful 7-minute arrangement of the aforementioned Pokke Village theme, initially led by the very same nostalgic Game Boy hum that leads much of the Johto Pokémon games' soundtracks. The extensiveness of the arrangement alone speaks volumes - it reminds me of rips like Jesus of the Underground right off the bat - but its hardly where the rip stops to impress. For one, I think the choice in game to use for this "bait-and-switch" arrangement is incredibly smart and quite deliberate. As an outsider, I need not have played a Monster Hunter game to get a sense for what Pokke Village is like, due purely to my associations with Ecruteak City and how those feelings are leveraged in the rip. I have no nostalgia nor attachment to any Monster Hunter game, yet the emotion present in just the rip's first half alone, the way the theme swells and settles, it conveys the rural village atmosphere pitch-perfectly. And all of it is, of course, elevated by the rip's unexpected twist - the remarkably seamless switch from the Pokémon GSC sound, to something far closer to a ground-up arrangement.

At first, I drew the conclusion that it was directly based on the Ecruteak City or Cianwood City theme of Pokémon HeartGold/SoulSilver, the 2009 remakes of the Johto Pokémon games for Nintendo DS. And while the arrangement feels incredibly similar to the sound of the DS, from the samples used to their quality, I can't directly connect the instruments used to either of the two city themes (which share a melody but with differing arranges). Yet the vibe is what truly matters, XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX is able to harness the warmth and comfort of those familiar DS-era samples to further bring home the sheer vibe of the Pokke Village theme that elevates the rip beyond its starting point, beyond its initial concept. I love pleasant surprise escalations like this, like I covered back in Plantasia 2, and much like that rip itself - I love how Poké Village is using it purely to further push a message of affection for a piece of media XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX seemingly holds very close to him.

Melody swaps between themes with such similar atmosphere are always some of the most surefire hits on SiIva, I'm reminded of just how quickly Aquadial enchanted me to name just one. And Poké Village certainly fits that mold, but I'm enamored by just how far XxFemBu55yL0V3RxX went to celebrate this theme that many of us are likely still rather unfamiliar with, to champion a franchise otherwise so underrepresented on SiIvaGunner with a seven-minute tribute covering two entirely different styles of arrangement. And it makes me so happy that it all worked, that the rip was able to hit the way it does without me having ever played a Monster Hunter game. Or in other words, that I was able to love the piece of himself that he shared in this rip.

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randomvarious · 7 months

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Today's compilation:

Now That's What I Call Music! 9 2002 Pop / Hip Hop / R&B / Teen Pop / Alternative Rock / Latin Pop / Southern Rap

Alright, folks, it's time for another fun trip down memory lane, and today we're going back to 2001 and 2002, with the help of the 9th volume from the most pervasive contemporary pop compilation series that's ever existed in US history: the one and only Now That's What I Call Music!

But first, before we..."Dig In"...let's get a dose of some of that good nostalgia with the ad for this release, shall we? Did you know that if you ordered it over the phone by credit or check/debit, you'd also get a free multi-purpose picture frame-mousepad too?! Wow, so cool! 😎

youtube

Anyway, being that these sets more or less serve as documentations of what the pop music landscape was like during a pretty specific time period, what this CD seems to demonstrate, in retrospect, is that the teen pop that had really dominated the late 90s was on a bit of a downturn in '01 and '02, and its status as the most prominent type of pop music was being usurped by hip hop and R&B.

But that's also not to say that all of the teen pop on here is of a low quality either, because *NSYNC's "Gone," which was the first track of theirs to ever be fully led from start to finish by Justin Timberlake, is really one of the greatest boy band tunes that's ever been made. Minimal, but emotional, and its bridge, specifically, is spectacular 😍.

Outside of that bit of brilliance, though, the R&B and hip hop tunes are just a lot better. And to me, the song that really stands out among the rest within this whole collection is Ginuwine's "Differences," a terrific slow jam that featured some incredibly shimmering and ringing keys. Normally, I don't go for slow R&B ballads, but this one in particular was really something special.

And there's also some bangers on here that you might've just flat out forgot ever existed too. Like, remember that New Jersey co-ed R&B/hip group, City High, that gave us "What Would You Do?" back in 2001? Well, do you remember their follow-up hit that featured Eve on it, "Caramel"? Its remix, by prolific New York duo Trackmasters, seems to be on that vague South Asian fad that so much mainstream hip hop and R&B was on at around that time, and it received a considerable amount of radio play. But looking back on it, I think it's actually been pretty memory-holed!

Also, we gotta give it up for Petey Pablo's ode to his home state of North Carolina too, with "Raise Up," because the Egyptian-sampled beat on that thing was absolutely bananas. And I can't say that I'm all that fond of much southern rap, in general, but Petey's debut hit was an absolute monster. Rather than him having to sacrifice any of his rawness in order to reach a pop audience, he was able to bring his rawness to a pop audience instead. And clearly, it resonated with a whole lot of folks.

And lastly, I think we all know that Ja Rule wasn't the greatest rapper out there, but his contributions to the turn-of-the-millennium pop landscape were pretty important. He got clowned on harshly by the likes of 50 Cent and Eminem, et al, and, as a result, his career was pretty much eviscerated, but songs like his Stevie Wonder-sampled "Livin' It Up" were straight-up party jams that really deserve more love and respect.

So, another highly enjoyable rush of radio and music television memories here. A bunch of commercial classics and a smattering of jams that are a bit more forgotten too. It's pretty much all you can ever ask for out of one of these Now CDs 😊.

P.S.: I'll provide a link to it, but for the love of god, under no circumstances should you ever subject yourself to the first track on this album, which is a remix of P!nk's "Get the Party Started" that features Redman and tries to mesh itself with "Sweet Dreams," by The Eurythmics. Apparently P!nk thought that her hair gave her enough power to also possess the essence of Annie Lennox or something, but good lord, was that calculus completely wrong 🥴. Such an excruciatingly bad song! Don't click on it!

Highlights:

Mary J. Blige - "Family Affair" Jennifer Lopez - "Ain't It Funny" Ja Rule feat. Case - "Livin' It Up" Ludacris - "Rollout (My Business)" Mr. Cheeks - "Lights, Camera, Action" Petey Pablo - "Raise Up (All Cities Remix)" City High - "Caramel (Trackmasters Remix)" Nelly Furtado - "Turn off the Light" *NSYNC - "Gone" Ginuwine - "Differences" Lenny Kravitz - "Dig In" Incubus - "Wish You Were Here"

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pansyfemme · 1 month

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ok my dash (mostly you) have convinced me to listen to the pastels. planning on running through their whole discography but in your personal opinion, top 10? ik youve probably already answered this sort of ask so no pressure B) <3

haha i will convice people to listen to the pastels til the day i die. The main thing to know is that they are a very, very varied band with a lot of distinct ‘eras’ of different types of sounds. Early pastels is very grungy, looser, a bit weirder and louder, and eventually they find their footing, slightly softer but more of a solid sound before becoming really sort of.. transcendental? that’s the best way i can describe the later stuff. and i am going to be honest, i love all of it equally! there really is not a bad (or even less than exceptional) pastels release imo. however i’m gonna start off by saying my personal favorite album is ‘sittin pretty’ which is not on most streaming platforms! but i do think it’s really wondeful as a peice. I’m just gonna throw out a handful of tracks i think are interesting for various reasons, in no particular order.

(though if you listen to one album, up for a bit is probably a good start, it’s wonderful and a good intro)

-Comin’ Through

this is the song that got me into the pastels, and my father before me! It’s like.. the gateway song. you hear it, you’ve never heard anything like it before and you need to hear more.

-Swerve

my personal favorite of the earlier/middle era! it’s loud, its chaotic, it’s fast, it has fucking eugene kelly featuring on it.. i loooove this song.

-Yoga

This is one of the songs that kind of hints towards where they would go later on but is a bit less calm? I love it a lot

-Worlds of Possibility

theres two versions of this one! an ep version and one on mobile safari. i reccomend you listen to the mobile safari version first, it’s more straightfoward, but both are exceptional.

-Thru Your Heart (Home recording)

This is an oddball, i’m reccomending it to kind of highlight the.. spiritual quality of the pastels? this is a really shoddy recording but it has a beauty i can’t really describe.

-Tokyo Glasgow

following that up, this is kind of similar as it is also a deeply deeply emotional track, it’s got this quality that just.. cuts you.

- Speeding Motorcyle 2

I’m listing this one and not their other speeding motorcycle cover, because this is specifically an instumental that just showcases how fucking insane they are with orchestral arangements, it’s a really moving instrumental that i really dig

-Nothing To Be Done

i can’t say that ‘this is the one people know’ because the pastels are not a band that is known wildly ouside of certain circles but nothing to be done is their most popular song and that is for a reason!!!

-Kicking Leaves

I post this one a lot. It makes me feel really warm, it’s sad but lovely.

- and for number 10.. i’m gonna cheat and give you two ‘kind of’ pastels tracks because there are soooo many pastels tracks and i also just feel like shouting out two really cool things.

1) Illumanati is an album of remixes of pastels songs, and it’s a…stacked list. i really love cornelius’ ‘windy hill’ remix but also if you’re a stereolab or my bloody valentine fan or really into 90’s indie at all you will recognize a name or two who did a remix

2) stephen pastel/stephen mcrobbie is alive and well to this day and one of his most recent projects was providing the soundtrack to a play called ‘this is memorial device’ that premiered at the edinburgh fringe fest a while ago. And the soundtrack to it is coming out soon with the first two tracks currently available to stream and they have already made me sob and i need to see that show so bad i might puke

but yes like by all means do a tour around their discography, it’s a decent amount of stuff but you can probably do it pretty stress free, it’s not a major project. I would just be mindful that some of their albums (including some of the most important ones) are not on all streaming platforms so take a look at their discography first as to not miss anything major!

i’m glad you’re interested in the pastels, they’re a band that genuinly has made me feel things no other form of art ever has been able to.

#you know how people would describe the beachboys as a ‘wall of sound’?#the pastels are kind of like that except the knowledge they have towards harmony taught them how to offset it #the vocals are often ‘sung against’ the melody- the songs sound beautiful the melodies are genuinly well done but care is taken to make #things sound off and disjointed. its a crazy balancing act

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theimperials1 · 3 months

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Feelings of Remembrance.

The amount of things V couldn't handle amounted to an extremely short amount of miscellaneous feelings she couldn't crush, stab, burn or simply repress into submission, they were for her most dreaded, even more so than the solver's sick games, there wasn't any amount of comfort she could force into herself to make them vanish, oh no, they remained and dig holes into her neural net to remain around and rouse her into the worst restlessness she could ever feel.

Today was one of those nights, completely fueled by those wicked emotions she wished had gotten suppressed by the entity responsible of the manor incident, yet, it's sadistic streak seemed to have deprived her of that peace, so wished and needed, as she took a long exasperated sigh as her frame kept crawling through the vents, taking peeks into the outside of each room she could access from there.

Why, why, why why-

She stops for some seconds, an awful headache is coming, adding only more gasoline to the already burning pyre inside her neural net: A pyre made of an odd, almost ever-vanishing yer always-returning distant tune, or was it a song? she couldn't simply put a finger on it, if the echoes on the deep dark before she woke up, and on this awful state of consciousness were either notes or lyrics. Nothing made sense, nothing...

All she knew was that this awful craving was pushing her to keep searching for...anything that could allow to put a musical face to that relentless tune that kept echoing through her, the unknown rhythm yer always urging her onward, and right as she was about to probably start a rampage through the whole colony of the purple thing, she caught a glimpse of just what she was looking for, V frowns, as she opens the vent through a gracious kick that amounts to the only little pulse of happiness that she has felt on the last 3 hours.

The music classroom from the purple's academy. It is a composite and organized deployment of musical instruments, all perched into stands right in front of named seats for the little orchestra they had on here to perform, but nothing of that mattered, in the dark, and with the predatory instincts she has been forced to develop, she moves around, seeking, trying to find a sense on that untouchable tune that keep just echoing, on and on, like what could be heard from behind a door.

It increases her anxiousness to put an end to all of this, to simply do, and return to sleep on this cursed bunker and forget about it all.

"I will rip your limps one by one, Cyn" She mumbles as she eyes a a violin "Couldn't delete things right even if you tried- fucker-"

As she moves through the rows of seats, her optics, luckily used to the amount of darkness present on here, caught the glimpse of something that makes her halt right where she is, the song still echoing only somewhat louder, perhaps the instinctive and faceless remembrance incensed due to the proximity of so many chances to acquire an identity...

And V is not wrong, for as her optics settle right into the piano of the classroom, her careless grip into a drum turns into an all-crushing hold that leaves the instrument useless, optics hollow with anger cursing through her wires as she starts smashing aside anything that gets into her way towards that instrument.

The tune keeps beating, almost like the tainted core that is all below her chassis, yet it starts to show itself in a somewhat recognizable shape, no longer hiding on that limbo that kept it close and far at the very same time.

V breaths raggedly as fragments, little pieces of corrupted and mangled memory begins to pour back in,curses towards the solver on it's wrecked job of deleting what they used to be come on right as the very place she is standing in glitches in and out.

The great hall... no corpses, she is walking, what used to be her weak, idiotic self from the past. Pain settles into her as both hands end up grabbing fists of white hair, almost ripping it, breathing becoming a mess out of pure rage.

The image shifts and that thing, is playing piano, a muffled tune her audio receptors can't process, again evasive, practically mocking her from the periphery of the mind, V stares at the self from the past, and can't but grown ireful against those memories, feeling sick, both at her own powerlessness and at the shards of happiness before the whole tragedy that now has all of them crushed started.

She manages not to scream, nor to do anything more drastic than viciously squeezing her eyes shut and trying to regain a proper hold on reality, she doesn't manage to do so before the first audible part of that mysterious tune is actually played by her older self.

It all vanishes, and again she is on that classroom, at a few meters from the piano, V blinks and offers a shaky sigh at the situation, exasperated and angry, she does little more than what she always has done; pick herself up and continue, more like a soldier than a maid, akin more to a warrior.

She advances, the only note from that song ringing now in loop inside herself, the very first key to touch to start it and then finish it. The drone of white hairs is barely able to control herself enough to sit right in front of the damned thing...and stare, her optics analyzing which key should be played to start, hands moving over the instrument and taking position all too naturally, V curses everything for that memory to not be a decoy of the solver. One of those so many cruel pathways for her to take and then get deleted once again, yet, there is a little trace of thankfulness towards it due to the fact it granted some insight on what she was supposed to do now, she bits her lower lip as the headache takes a sharp severity, and yet doesn't stop, V doesn't allow her hands to halt as they settle themselves, and the first key is pressed.

An expected and yet unknown sound echoes as the fingers presses the key of the instrument, V's almost hyperventilation starts to settle as it travels through the air and it's received by her audio receptors, yet it wasn't done, of course; she starts pressing more keys and a cacophony, a broken melody, forms, it is like a clutter of trash, senseless, disposable, it makes her halt for a few seconds, hands sprawled over the piano and with the fingers positioned in bizarre ways as she stops her attempt right after some keys are pressed.

Gritted teeth, hands balling into fists that go right into her lap, and she stares at the black and white, seeking sense on this madness, on this ordeal that has been imposed by her own weak convictions from ages past, V hesitates, and keeps seeking inside herself the rest of the song, the notes that should be struck for this to work, the veil of destroyed and mangled memories is thick as the fog surrounding the manor, cunning, keeping it all under the wrap of a incipient amnesia that kept, just, getting, in, the, way.

And yet, it is not perfect, as she seizes on the split of a second another soundless echo, one that like draws her to another key right as she repeats the first one, the sound travels through the empty and now on disarray rows of empty seats and instruments, right as V smiles, not confidently nor happy, but with the sanity on the very tip of the edge, as those two notes keeps now reverberating inside her neural net, she needs them out, all out.

The process is too alike to peeling off skin to get shrapnel out, like when she first woke up as...this, and heard the beat of the tainted heart, too many wishes to simply drag everything single stain of the taint out of herself, maybe killing herself on the process, maybe not: This was similar, maybe without the existential dread, but this, just like any other things that came before it, is trying to drive her mad, maybe so she 'remembers' who she used to be.

She doesn't need that.

Another key is struck on a violent movement, and now there is three reverberations deep, deep, inside the cranium ~ perhaps ripping every piece of herself doesn't sound so bad. Not at this moment, because this is like quashing a bug and then hearing it rip your guts from the inside right away in a bizarre display of horror; she is gonna maim Cyn and make sure she doesn’t do any of this to anyone ever again.

Another.

Four, four bugs, using their mouths to chant inside and keep driving her towards insanity, she is not having it, and even if those bugs are faceless incarnations of the older V, still the thought of them being sick fuckers prevails, luck haves it that she doesn't have anything to crush right now. Something to let it all out, something to burst and let bleed; how she wishes to have Cyn's stupid smiling face right between her palms so she can- burst- it- open-

A fifth key is struck and the endless pain of having them play and reverberate keeps on, how she craves for it to be the kind of pain she is used to enduring, and that has been burned to disturbingly clear into her circuits she already knows what to do, with this? there is little more to do than keep walking the path of agony.

She starts adding more, and more notes, the fingers striking and dragging into the naked open the soundless and muffled echoes that keep pushing her night into this awful direction so dreaded. The cacophony starts to slowly not only acquire both pace and reason, but speed, all at jarring and at spots extremely bizarre way, a crescendo of oddness in music, witnesses to this would have grown most confused, for what V was enacting could be called little more than sculpting through notes, for that is what she did, not an act through chisel and stone, but rather through anger and the harsh playing of the keys on the piano.

The featureless tune, heard so far away into the corners of her mind, driving her insane, was slowly shifting and transforming into something that could be interpreted, from a odd composition of notes scrambled into an imaginary partitive, it became something little less than worthy of a hundred applause, a song so beautifully crafted from the scraps left on the broken corners of the mind of the disassembler, whose pain was less than over, as her movements became more vicious, albeit the concentration didn't wane at any second, what amounted inside V's mind to a maddening buzz of ever-increasing insects crawling inside her chassis was only increasing in volume as it combined with intrusive memories of the great hall and those ended up infected by the damned memories of THAT BASEMENT

Yet it had to end. End as it could, and as it, perhaps, should, there wasn't anything clear on it, on this sensation of pain that kept crawling all around herself, this sense of restlessness that plagued her, the temporal madness. But it had to end.

No matter how many painful memories of all the moments between her and N came crashing down, how much the song seemed to summon and rebuild the fragments, how many times had they danced at this very same song in the great hall before that thing started dragging everyone down the basement?

How many times had they kissed?

How many times had they shared books on the library?

As tears of oil start dripping down her cheeks, and the insane tune kept pouring of the piano, reaching it's climax, hands moving now more by themselves than by any real will to continue, V can only heard the buzz (or is it the tune?) more loud than ever, more clear than ever, it and the tune coming out of the instrument are one and the same, for her a forbidden symphony of things she doesn't want out in the open, memories and remembrances of a love that was cut short.

The damned giggle of that thing incenses the anger and sets ablaze a final sprint to end it all.

She crosses the threshold, more and more pieces of the song come together in the climax, wrapping one on another and revitalizing a wrecked melody that had hummed so low in those buried times and now stands alive, sounding broken, but yet with the beauty beating right below what the ears can make of it.

The joints burn, the hands keep moving but she wants a rest from this, the visions only burning themselves clearly again and again into her neural net, she and N dancing, what amounts to years of broken feelings collides against the bulwark she has become, and endures them despite the crushing deluge their sleep has turned them into.

Each final note little more than a spark of those broken years being modified, shifted, turned into this very aberration with a curse that wouldn't end even if she shot herself, oh no, she would turn into it, devour, consume, and then back into this wrecked CYCLE.

Her breathing, synthetic and as unnecessary as it could be- becomes as painful as feeling her parts being torn, broken, and then set together again, half-screams of pain come out of the lips...

And right as she strikes a final note, the last the past has to offer, and right as she and N's dance fades completely, a sharp string of pain surges, no longer muffled or endured screams come out, sheer horror and repugnance expressed on the raw way of a proper scream that moves on through the halls of the academy.

She shakes as she screams, stares up, up into the dark ceiling of the music classroom, tears of oil down her cheeks, moving down, staining the jacket, she swears, for the split of a second, she can see the stars.

She and N had promised to watch the stars after the gala was over.

As her body falls back, like a puppet with the strings cut, and more and more errors notify that she has reached the bare minimum of oil to work, she wishes that not only this insanity has been satisfied, but that the heavens have had enough of tormenting her for daring to boot up after Tessa rescued her.

Enough torment.

Enough Pain.

She wants to rest.

It has to be enough.

"I'm sorry N"

The apology never said back then, and not even now, to who used to be the target of her deepest affections, slips as little more than an incomprehensible sound of pain to the world. The sound of V's body hitting the floor echoes just like the scream did, a dry and brutal sound.

It is finished. Both for the insanity, and for her.

No more restlessness to quell.

No more sins to atone for.

It. Is. Done.

For now.

ΩΩ

Hi. If you liked this mini-fic:

Help me buy a New Router.

Check my Carrd.

#murder drones #writing #mini-fic #murder drones v #murder drones n #murderdrones #murder drones cyn #absolute solver #murder drones envy

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light-lanterne · 6 months

Note

Does sleep token have lore associated with the band?

hello !! there is a lot of lore, yes :O i'll try to summarise a little, but i really recommend doing some personal digging around ~

so, first, there's the basic notion of Sleep. according to the first and only interview the band's ever given (i believe a second is set to be released soon-ish), Sleep is an omnipotent eldritch god who once manifested himself through a dream to the lead singer, Vessel, who ever since writes music in worship of this ancient god based on the messages the deity conveys. the idea is that through their music, their tokens, the band is trying to touch upon the most primal human emotions and reach our hearts and subconscious with Sleep's message to prepare us for following him.

(this god is not really called Sleep, but his name is described as far too complicated for the human brain to translate and understand.)

then we have Vessel himself ! the band doesn't have many music videos, but from the ones we do have we are able to somewhat piece together some of Vessel's story (the character, not the actual man). so this way we have:

Vessel's first connection with Sleep ["thread the needle"],

the origin of his original mask ["fields of elation"],

he (and ii's) succumbing to Sleep ["calcutta"],

him (or Sleep) being corrupted and causing harm to someone [story is told in the "jaws" and "the way that you were" videos, but the lyrics for "nazareth" give context] and then lamenting what happened ["blood sport (from the room below)"],

Vessel exploring different parts of his subconscious and defeating his nightmares ["alkaline"], but being unable to rid himself of the memories in relation to someone ["the love you want", which then ties up to the video for "fall for me"]

(and that's it; those are all their actual music videos and a vague, somewhat-generally-accepted interpretation of them but !! you can interpret them however you wish !!! there are no right or wrong answers in any of this)

and then we have all the esoteric symbols and codes they use. from their logo, which supposedly translates to "sleep token" (but is actually a combination of a central gate-like symbol and the elder futhark runes dagaz (ᛞ), tiwaz (ᛏ), uruz (ᚢ) and eihwaz (ᛇ),,, or mannaz (ᛗ), tiwaz (ᛏ) and wunjō (ᚹ),,, or many other possible combinations x.x),,,

(here are two different interpretations of what it could mean)

,,,to each of the codes that accompanied their three full albums:

"sundowning" with some alchemic sigils that serve as art for each track in the album and have a bazillion interpretations,,,

"this place will become your tomb" with nautical coordinates hidden in merch and posters (which lead to "point nemo"), a cypher residing in the visualizer videos for the album (which hinted at the cover art for the third album), and bizarre oceanic creatures with interesting connotations (again, art for each track),,,

and "take me back to eden" with the eden code and the odd beings connected to each song ~

,,,so yeah. lots of lore and easter eggs and symbolism ~ :D

obviously, i could go on for longer but this is already quite long so i'll leave it here. thanks for the ask !!! once again, i encourage you to do your own digging if any of this caught your attention or if you're interested in the band altogether :] it's quite fun to look into their lyrics and cryptic messages and figure all this out ^-^

okie, i'll leave now. have a great day / night !!

#💕#🔮#🧸#worship

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cherryeol04 · 1 year

Text

Hidden Love

➻ Pairings: Minho x Jisung, Jisung x Reader, Minho x Reader, Minho x Reader x Jisung

➻ Genre: Angst, romance, slice of life, office au

➻ Additional: non-major character death

➻ Word Count: 5.7K

➻ Warnings: Mentions of the passing of a beloved pet. If that triggers you, please skip this story!

➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username!

You’ve never felt love prior to this very moment and it was devastating. Most of your life you’ve wondered what love was and if you would ever get to experience it, never realizing that there were different types of love and some can wiggle their way into your heart without knowing. Which explains why you were currently sitting in your car in front of your job, bawling your eyes out. You had told yourself that you wouldn’t cry today, but the moment you left home, the tears started flowing and you couldn’t make them stop. It’s not the first time you’ve experienced loss, but it’s never really hit you as hard as it was this time.

Of course it probably didn’t help that you were listening to relatively somber and sad songs that aided in your emotions. And as the song changed, you found yourself sobbing harder. You were so caught up in the memories you didn’t even notice that the passenger side of your door opened.

“Y/n?”

You startled, quickly wiping at your eyes as you turned to stare at Jisung, the man peering in with one arm resting on the roof of your car. “Oh, hey.” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat in hopes of covering it up. You really hoped that Jisung hadn’t seen anything but it was hard to deny what a mess you looked like. He would have to be blind not to see.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sniffling, you looked away, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself but they only seemed to upset you even more as fresh tears started to well in your eyes. You tried to keep them at bay, whining softly in the back of your throat as you did so. You had to be strong! You had to get yourself collected so you could go to work.

The car shifted as Jisung climbed in, closing the door behind him. He stared at you and you shyly met his gaze. The tense silence spanned a few short seconds before Jisung was leaning over and pulling you into his arms and against his chest. It was awkward with the center console digging into your side, but you went willingly anyway and the moment your head hit his chest, you were sobbing once more.

You hated crying in front of other people, but with Jisung you felt less embarrassed and weak and just more comfortable and vulnerable. Jisung was someone who made you feel safe and not judged. He was probably the only person you would so easily show this vulnerable side to. Shifting to the side, you wrapped your arms around Jisung’s waist as best as you could, clinging to the material of his uniform. He whispered soft and encouraging words, even though it felt like it was all a lie. It didn’t feel like things were going to be alright, but what could you really do when everything was already said and done?

You sat in the car for another three songs, and you were sure by now you were both late. But never did Jisung try to push you away. Never did he remind you that it was time to go in. He simply held you, rubbing your back in slow circles, even as your sobs slowly subsided. Eventually you pulled away, sniffling a few times, even though your nose was clogged and angry at you.

“Feeling better?” He asked softly and you nodded slowly, wiping at your red and sore eyes. Jisung smiled and reached out, stroking your hair gently and placing a few strands back in their rightful places. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” You croaked out, grabbing your cup from the holder and taking a sip. You were parched and the few sips you took helped to ease the dry throat and make you feel a little bit better. It was probably a mental thing honestly.

“Okay, well if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” It was those sweet words that had you crumbling. The extended hand of kindness just really hit your heart and once again you felt the tears freely falling, a frustrated groan leaving you as you slumped in your seat. Soft fingers caressed your cheeks, wiping away the tears as they fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry again.”

“It’s okay.” You sniffled, followed by a whine as you swallowed another sob. “My cat…died last night.” You barely managed to get the words out before you sobbing into your hands, Jisung’s own all over you once more - doing his best to offer some sort of comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He whispered. “Which one?”

“Abby, the disabled one.” It felt like you had shouted the words through the sob and you hoped it hadn’t been as loud as you thought. It wasn’t like you were shouting at Jisung for not knowing. It was just a bodily reaction you couldn’t control through your tears. The soft “oh no” was all that you needed to hear. It was comforting to know that Jisung at least understood. You didn’t always talk about your cats, especially Abby, but when you did it was usually to Minho, the other resident cat lover at the office. Jisung was usually around because they were joined at the hip, so it only made sense that he knew about her too.

So he knew just how special Abby was to you. You had found her as a kitten on your front porch, head wobbling as she kicked herself in a circle on her side. The vet had told you it was a neurological condition and that she most likely would never be able to use her front paws. But she had been such an eager little kitten, always hoping around when you held her up. She had been so adorable, yet despite her fighting spirit, it seemed that she was just destined to not be able to move. As she got older, despite your best efforts, her mobility continued to decline until she was confined to a cat bed all day and night with you doing regular feedings, cleanings, baths, rotations and play time. For three years you nurtured her but that didn’t seem to be enough. She was still taken from you and your heart was utterly broken - life completely turned upside down. Her life expectancy hadn’t been a long one to begin with but you still thought you had more time. It just felt too early. You couldn’t stop your mind from running with the “what ifs”. What if you had just tried harder, would she still be alive? That type of thinking contributed to your tears, body shaking with every wail.

Jisung wrapped you back up in his arms, but the awkward position just wasn’t cutting it this time. You struggled a bit, pulling away long enough to unbuckle your seatbelt and toss it over your shoulder before climbing out of the driver’s seat and over into his lap - a feat that you didn’t think was possible, but you had completed nonetheless. It took a bit of shifting on both your parts, but eventually you found a comfortable position - arms wound tightly around Jisung’s neck as you pressed your face into his shoulder. Your cries were softer this time, the changing of seats having distracted you briefly. Jisung’s hands rubbed up and down your back slowly, his chin hooked over your shoulder as he held and rocked you slowly. Bless his soul, he was such a kind and caring person and you were so thankful to be able to call him your friend.

Another 5 songs played, at least you thought it was 5. You weren’t sure and honestly you couldn’t care less. By now you were very late for work and you were contemplating just calling out and going home. Being sociable wasn’t a very appealing thought, but you didn’t want to be at home and left to ruminate in memories of Abby and how lonely and empty your home felt now. Nothing good would come from that. Jisung’s phone suddenly went off, startling the both of you. As the loud music blared, he fumbled to pull it out of his pocket, answering it without so much as looking at the caller ID, his cheeks a pretty shade of red now.

“Hello?” There was a pause and you could vaguely make out a voice but you couldn’t hear it clearly enough to know who was on the other line. “Oh hey. Yeah, I’m outside in Y/n’s car.” He shifted, his free hand coming up to stroke your head gently and felt all the muscles in your body relax, eyes fluttering closed. “No, she’s having a hard time. Um…” he trailed off and you could feel his eyes on you. You had no idea what he was going to say, but you felt as if he was asking permission for something, so you simply nodded. “Abby passed away.” He whispered, taking his own shuddering breath. It surprised you to hear how much saying those words affected him as well. Jisung had never met Abby before, but through all the stories and pictures you’ve shared with him, it probably felt like he did. He was just involved in her life as you were. “Yeah, the usual spot. Okay, bye.”

You lifted your head and looked up at Jisung curiously, but he shook his head, hand pressing lightly on the back of your head to guide it back down. You didn’t put up a fight, resting your head back down and snuggling against his neck this time. You were comfortable and for the first time in hours you felt at peace enough where you didn’t want to cry. Which your body was very grateful for. Your eyes felt like you had rubbed them raw with sandpaper, cheeks flaming hot and nose so clogged that you didn’t think you would ever be able smell out of it again. And yet all those pains faded away the longer you focused on Jisung and the feelings you felt. The way you just seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms and his lap and how at ease he was at giving you comfort. It was like you were meant to be there with him and if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn there was something more between the two of you.

But you knew better.

More time passed and at this point you knew you needed to either go home or turn the car off before you ran out of gas from sitting idle for so long. And just as you gathered the motivation to pull yourself away from the warm embrace, the driver’s side door opened. Panic struck you and you quickly turned your head, only to relax as you saw Minho sitting there, staring at you. That must have been who Jisung was talking to. It made sense now. Minho looked you over for a moment before his eyes moved to Jisung. Their eyes locked and they seemed to have some sort of silent conversation before Minho was buckling up and putting your car in reverse.

“Where are we going?” You asked tiredly, confused. Minho didn’t bother to give an answer and Jisung simply shushed you. And while you were curious, and possibly a little scared, you trusted them. Making yourself comfortable, you pressed your face into Jisung’s neck and allowed yourself to start to drift off for the duration of the car ride. You had only meant to cat nap - sleep for a few minutes and then wake up, but that didn’t happen. You were 100% sure that didn’t happen because when you finally woke up, you were in your own bed, dressed in your favorite pajamas - a cute little black and leopard print set that Jisung had gotten you two years ago as your secret Santa.

Frowning, you rolled over onto your side, looking over the edge of the bed and staring at the empty spot that once was occupied by Abby’s cat bed. A wave of sadness washed over you, but thankfully this time it was not accompanied by tears. Maybe you were finally all cried out. You laid there for a few more moments, debating if you wanted to get up or just continue to lay there, eyes never leaving that spot. Your mind wandered to whatever happy memories you could recall of Abby until you finally forced yourself out of the bed. Leaving your room, you made your way down the hall, searching the two other rooms in your small apartment before finally walking out into the living room. You noticed two things and one more shocking than the other. It was pitch black outside and Jisung and Minho were curled up fast asleep on your couch, cuddling. It was actually very adorable and you wished you had your phone on you so you could take pictures. A quick glance to the cable box told you it was 8 and you were actually shocked that you slept the entire day away. And how had you been allowed to sleep the day away? You missed work and you hadn’t even called to let them know you weren’t coming in. You could only imagine how many calls and texts you probably had from your manager about it. You hoped you still had a job tomorrow.

Your eye moved back to the two bodies on your couch and you smiled softly. Regardless if you were fired or not for not calling in, you were glad you hadn’t gone in and had been given the time to sleep away the sadness. It was much needed and very thoughtful of them. You were so glad to be able to call them your friends. They looked so peaceful, so you decided to leave them be and headed into your kitchen, intent on making some form of sustenance for the three of you. It was the only thing you could think of doing to repay their kindness.

You worked in silence and it was actually peaceful. Cooking was keeping your mind occupied, so even though there wasn’t any sensory object to distract you with, you were still able to keep your sadness at bay. And you knew it wouldn’t always be like this. The first few days were going to be the hardest, coping with your loss. But as time goes on, it would get easier and the pain and sadness would eventually ease - if not disappear all together. The memories of Abby would always stay because things would just never feel the same after three years of a strict routine, but it would be bearable. As you stirred the pot filled with ramen - because that was the easiest and quickest thing you knew how to make - you failed to notice the presence behind you until it was too late and two strong arms wrapped around your waist, scaring you so much that you actually screamed.

Minho’s soft laugh filled the kitchen and you pouted, leaning away from him as you craned your neck to look back at him. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes it was.” He grinned and you sighed, not really feeling up to arguing with him. Had it been any other day, you would have launched into a tirade about how scaring a person while they were cooking was dangerous for both parties, though you were sure Minho probably wouldn’t have listened at all. “How are you feeling, sleepyhead?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I should ask you that.” Turning back to the stove, you turned off the burner and moved the pot off of it. “That position you were in didn’t look very comfortable.” You commented.

“It’s hard to be comfortable on a couch, but it was fine.” Minho resumed his previous position, tugging you back against him. “Now answer my question.”

“I’m fine.” You whispered, eyes closing. Minho hummed, but didn’t say anything else and you were happy about that. Fingers moved, skimming lightly against your stomach and you couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a soothing gesture or if he was trying to tickle you. There was also a third option, but you honestly didn’t want to acknowledge that because there was no way Minho, out of all people, would be interested in you. Just like Jisung would never be interested in you. And if you were honest with yourself, you were pretty sure Minho and Jisung were already dating.

“I’m sorry.”

You stiffened at the whisper, a soft whimper leaving you. Those two words triggered an immediate emotional response and you fought hard to keep from crying for what was probably the millionth time in 24 hours. “Minho.”

“I know how much she meant to you and I’m sorry you lost her. I wish I could take that pain away.” You whined, pulling away from grasp and turning. You smacked him against his chest, a little harder than intended, but you didn’t feel bad about it since he made you cry. You swallowed thickly, breathing deeply to try and stop the onslaught of tears, but just looking at Minho was enough to keep them going. The sincerity in his gaze was just another piercing stab to your already broken heart. How was he even real?! Not even your parents would show this much empathy and sympathy towards you when a pet died.

“I hate you.” You choked out, face scrunching up as you took a step forward and pressed your face against his chest, fingers clutching at his shirt. He didn’t stop you, but he didn’t whisper sweet words like Jisung had. The contrast between Minho and Jisung could be startling but that’s what made them both so unique. While Jisung was about physically making someone feel better through words and touch, Minho was more like an emotional support animal. Just his presence there was really enough and you got the same level of comfort from him as you did Jisung. Minho rested a hand on your head, stroking it gently as he let you just cry it out in the middle of your kitchen.

You were able to calm down relatively quickly this time around, pulling away once your sobs subsided. You used the hem of your shirt to carefully wipe away your tears, eyes screaming in sensitivity. Dropping your shirt, you let out a deep sigh and looked up at Minho, who was just staring at you. You fell into a staring contest, lasting only a few seconds before Minho was blinking rapidly a few times - almost as if he was coming to his senses. A cute behavior you loved to see and never got enough of. “Go wake up Jisung, I’ll fix our bowls.”

“Kay.” Walking around him, you headed back into the living room, smiling as you spotted Jisung’s fluffy bed head over the back of the couch. At least he was already awake. As you walked around the couch, your mentally corrected your previous thought as you stared at Jisung’s sleeping face - cheeks puffy and cute, lips slightly parted. He looked so peaceful that you didn’t really want to wake him up, but you knew he would be upset if he missed food and you certainly didn’t want to deal with a pouty Jisung.

Taking a seat next to him, you gently shook his shoulder until his eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for him to gather his bearings, a loud and obnoxious yawn leaving him, which triggered your own yawn response. It went back and forth a few times and eventually the two of you erupted into giggles after one more shared yawn. “You’re horrible.” You giggled.

“Sorry?” Jisung asked and shrugged, grinning. “How are you feeling?” By now the question shouldn’t bother you and it really didn’t. But it did feel like they were being broken records, asking how you were. You couldn’t blame them though, considering the pain you had been going through.

“I’m fine.” And you really were. There was still a thin veil of sadness looming over you and that most likely wouldn’t go away any time soon, but you no longer felt the need to just break down and cry and that was a good thing. It meant you could at least function like a normal human being during the grieving process. “Really.” You tacted on for emphasis and it was reassurance that Jisung needed. Nodding, he reached up and stroked your cheeks slowly, eyes raking over your face before pausing momentarily on your lips. There was a feeling that overcame you - one of hope that you swatted away almost immediately because there was no need for hope. Jisung was just being a good friend, making sure you weren’t lying to him. That was all. That look and his touches didn’t mean anything more. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. “Minho is fixing us bowls of ramen.” Pulling away from Jisung, you missed the way his face fell as you busied yourself with shifting decor and magazines on your coffee table.

On cue, Minho walked in with a tray of three bowls and three glasses of something. There was no telling what Minho had decided to give you for drinks, though you were hoping for wine because boy did you need a drink. Scooting to the side, you made room for Minho to sit between you and Jisung, but the older male seemed to have other plans as he shooed you towards the middle of the couch before taking a seat. Now between very attractive and very caring men, you did your hardest to not malfunction because at the end of the day, they were still your friends and they were there to take care of you.

“Should we watch something?” Jisung asked as grabbed the remote control, situating himself into a comfortable position.

“Sure, but not Howl’s Moving Castle.” Minho agreed around a mouthful of noodles.

“Ugh!” Jisung whined and pouted. “Why not?!”

“Jisung, we watch it every time!” You whined. “Let’s watch something else. Something not emotional please. I want to forget that I even have emotions.” You grunted when Minho nudged you and stuck your tongue out at him. “I just…need a distraction.”

“I know, baby.” Jisung mumbled and your heart stuttered as your stomach did a few flips at the pet name. Not uncommon because everyone was Jisung’s ‘baby’ at work. But for some reason it just felt different - like he said with a different meaning behind it. “Alright, let’s watch one of the Hellraiser movies then.” He offered, laughing as Minho audibly groaned, head falling back against the couch cushion.

“Okay!” You quickly agreed, giggling happily.

“You’re both trying to kill me.” Minho muttered, eyes looking anywhere but at the TV as Jisung queued up the fifth movie. While the first four movies were canonically in the same universe, you found that you really liked the movies that followed after, even though most of those were the ones critics and other horror lovers hated - or so you heard through the many review channels that you watched that loved to pick apart your favorite movies. And they weren’t wrong. The movies were honestly terrible, but it was that terribleness that just made you love them all the more, specifically Hellraiser: Hellworld. It was a not so secret love of yours.

As the opening intro started to play, you found yourself getting lost in your food and the flashing pictures. The distraction was a success and you made it through the majority of the movie without thinking of Abby, but at some point the thought of feeding her crossed your mind, only to be reminded very quickly that you didn’t have to do that. And suddenly, the movie wasn’t interesting and lost your appetite. You placed your bowl down on the table, half-eaten and cold. Leaning back on the couch, you sat there, eyes downcast as your mind wandered to what your life was going to be like now without her. How your body and mind were so trained to follow specific routines and now you didn’t have to do them. How the hell were you going to be able to function properly? It seemed so surreal.

Your sudden mood change didn’t go unnoticed, and Jisung slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling against your side. Sighing softly, you rested your head on his shoulder, basking just briefly in the comfort, before it was just washed away with sadness. Moments later, a comforting hand was placed on your thigh and turned to stare at it before looking back at Minho. He was still facing the TV, engaged in the movie, but it was clear he too had noticed the shift. His thumb gently caressed your thigh before he gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smiled at that, turning your attention back to the movie as you nuzzled against Jisung’s shoulder gently. Jisung leaned down, muscles flexing under you as you pressed a few gentle kisses to your head. “You okay?”

A broken record.

“I’m-“

“Be honest.”

You closed your mouth, taking a moment to really think it through before you answered. “No.” You whispered. “But I’ll be okay.” You lifted your head, your eyes catching his.

“Anything I can do to help?” He asked, breaking eye contact to stare at your lips. Your own eyes found their way to his lips - slightly plump and pink from all the slurping of the noodles he had done. It was only then that you realized just how close you were and it would be so easy to just lean in and close that gap. You weren’t sure which of you moved first, but like magnets you were pulled together, lips pressing together in a chaste kiss that lasted all of a second before you were pulling back quickly.

“I’m so sorry.” You apologized quickly. Jisung frowned and cocked his head.

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t-“

“Oh my god please don’t do this.” Minho called from his spot on the couch, startling you. You had honestly forgotten about his presence for a moment. Turning, you were greeted with a very unamused look. “We’re not in some romance novel. You’re not sorry, it happened because you both liked each other, can we move on? It’s so painful watching you two dance around each other.”

Shock couldn’t begin to accurately describe the emotion you were feeling. Minho hadn’t needed to go in that hard, but you could get where he was coming from. If his words were true - and you had no reason to not believe them - then you and Jisung must have been very frustrating to watch.

“You’re one to talk.” Jisung scoffed. “You’re just as bad with her.”

“Huh?” You questioned.

“No, I’m just more subtle.” Minho corrected with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I got to kiss her first, so there.” Jisung taunted like a little child. The two continued to go back and forth in their little argument while you struggled to wrap your head around what you were hearing. Both Jisung and Minho had a thing for you? When in the fresh hell had that happened? And why? You honestly had trouble believing you had garnered the attention of one of them, yet alone two. You must have been having a fever dream because there was just no way!

“I think we broke her.”

Lifting your head, you looked from Jisung to Minho and back again. “I’m just not understanding.”

“Well you see, people can love more than one person at a time and-“

“I know what a poly relationship is!” You snapped, eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand how you,” you pointed to Minho and then Jisung. “Want me.” You finished as you pointed to yourself. You watched as their faces dropped, different emotions flashing across them, but you weren’t able to decipher them quick enough. “Why?”

“Why?” Minho echoed before scoffing, looking away. “Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.” You protested.

“Well, do you have about five hours, because we could list all the reasons as to why it’s you.” Jisung said softly, chewing on his bottom lip. “But I don’t think it’ll give you the answer you’re really looking for.”

You cocked your head, trying hard to comprehend what Jisung meant. Your question had been pretty straight forward, ‘why you’? There wasn’t any underlying meaning or question that you really wanted answered, right? Looking away, you closed your eyes as you tried to focus and think, but nothing was coming to mind. You were pulled out of your thoughts as fingers slid across your jaw and tilted your head back up. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared into Minho’s eyes as he loomed over you.

“How you wiggled your way into our hearts isn’t a mystery. But sugar coated words hold little weight when actions speak in volumes.” He whispered, looking over your face. “So tell me, Y/n, how loud have our actions spoken to you?” You had to admit, Minho always had a way with words and that’s probably why he was usually the one to handle the major projects at work. Being asked to reflect on their actions wasn’t something you had expected, but as you sat there and thought back on it, every action that you told yourself to not overthink about came flooding to the forefront of your brain. Every smile, every touch, every sweet little gesture that you waved off as just ‘friendly’ now had a whole new meaning and you couldn’t believe you didn’t realize before. But hope was such a fickle thing that could break a heart and you didn’t want to have to constantly go through that.

“I guess-“ You paused, searching for the right words. “-they’ve been screaming at me. I just haven’t noticed.”

Minho chuckled and shook his head slightly. “And now that you’ve noticed?” He asked curiously. “Do your own actions hold any truth?” You were shocked at the question. You hadn’t thought you were that transparent with your feelings. Sure you had many crushes while working in the office, from Seungmin to Chan and Jisung and Minho, but you thought you did well at keeping those feelings a secret. Apparently, you hadn’t.

“Yes.”

“Then why ask pointless questions when you know the answers?” Minho asked, leaning closer to you. You took a shuddering breath because he was right. You knew the answer to your question, despite how much your brain wanted to tell you that you just weren’t that special of a person. It was clear to you, laid out so prettily in front of you. They wanted you, cared about you and most probably even loved you. “Close your eyes.”

Your eyes closed automatically, heart racing as you waited for what Minho would do next - for what you hoped he would do next. You weren’t disappointed as soft lips ghosted against yours in a teasing kiss that left you longing for more. But you didn’t have to wait for long as those same lips pressed against yours once more - hard and insistent. You definitely couldn’t say it was all you ever dreamed of because you hadn’t really dreamt about kissing Minho or Jisung - at least not that you could remember. But the kiss definitely exceeded your expectations in the moment, especially as Minho tilted his head ever so slightly and deepened the kiss - your lips slotting together in such a way that you got a better feel for how soft his lips were. A soft moan escaped you as Minho’s small fingers cupped your cheek with such tenderness that your slightly mended heart was melting.

The kiss didn’t last very long, but you were more than content when he pulled away. “Now, can we go back to the movie?” He asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Leave it to Minho to just glaze over a whole ass confession and kiss just so he could finish watching the movie. But that was one thing you liked about him - his no nonsense and straight to the point personality.

“Wait, I want a kiss too.” Jisung pouted and Minho laughed.

“You already did. Should have tried harder, I know I taught you how to kiss better than that.” Minho shrugged and it was then that a thought struck you.

“So, does that mean you two have fooled around before or…?” You trailed off as you eyed them.

“Fooled around?” Jisung asked and laughed. “Y/n, we’re dating.” Your eyes widened the size of saucers as the information was brought to light. “I thought you knew that.”

“I-I mean -“ You stuttered. “I had a feeling but I was never sure and now…this isn’t a joke is it?” You frowned, brows knitted together.

“Oh god no!” Minho was quick to reassure you, hand once more on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not a joke, our feelings about you.”

“Then…”

“Sometimes there are just things you can’t explain, but you know they just are.” Jisung explained. “We just know that for a while now, we’ve wanted you. While today was not the day we wanted to do any sort of confession, it just happened.” He said and sighed softly. “I hope it could give you a little bit of happiness to all the pain you’ve been in though.”

Smiling sadly, you crawled into Jisung’s lap and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “It has.” You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder lightly. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“Thank you for accepting us.” Minho countered with a smile as he scooted closer and kissed your cheek and then Jisung’s before settling next to the two of you. The three of you sat there in a comfortable silence, just taking in the moment and the previous moments that have happened. While you lost a pet that meant the world to you, you gained two supportive boyfriends. It was more than you could have ever expected in life and you were thankful for it.

“Can’t wait to rub this in Lucy’s face in the morning.” Jisung snickered and you giggled. Tomorrow was certainly going to be interesting.

Tags: @sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia @hanjisungismybaby @imbonibi @jiwlys @leafsmindpalace @army-of-carats @peachmilkcloud @letterstoskz @lauraneuuh @babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu @feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi @ahhhhhhhhhghh @thsrndkd @halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @yayaistime @bxddiebang @sachifukyo @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon

( If you want to join the list, you can find the info here! Also I’m sorry for those listed in the tags but not getting tagged. For some reason tumblr can’t find your blog to tag. I’m hoping it figures it out soon like it did for others.)

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self-loving-vampire · 8 months

Text

Just for fun, I decided to take the COGIATI test and see how bad it is.

My first conclusion is that my definition of "fun" is rather masochistic at times, and I don't expect other people to find this post that entertaining either. Still...

Question 1 is already so much.

"Describe your relationship with mathematics."

"Girl Math" nonsense coming right out the gate, apparently.

"You are at a meeting. Everyone at the meeting is the same sex as you. The leader of the meeting announces that it's time for hugs all around! How do you feel about this?"

I don't know why they have to specify the sex of the other people here. I don't like being touched either way. There isn't really an option that really expresses how much I don't want people to touch me. At most I can just say it's unnecessary.

"As a child, when you played with close friends, how would you describe the type of play you liked to be a part of the most?"

You know this is a boomer test because "video games" is not an option.

"Which choice most closely describes why you dress up 'en femme', as a woman."

All of the potential answers to this question are on a spectrum between "it is sexual to me" and "it just makes me feel better". There is no option for "I don't actually do this."

And like... there's also cis women who don't dress up like that very often if at all, or who feel nothing about it. Even a vaguely GNC cis woman could very easily take this test and get labeled as a man somehow.

Anyway, I don't actually know what to choose here because this time no answer even approximates how I feel. Normally I would just drop the test upon reaching a point like this but I feel inclined to dig deeper so I'll pick a mild "makes me feel better" sort of answer and continue.

"You are parking your car. You must reverse into a somewhat narrow space to park. What do you do?"

I don't drive. There is no option for people who don't drive. You could take all of the insane trad stereotypes out of this test and it would still be bad just because it regularly forgets rather common types of people exist.

"You are about the age of 14. You have to take a test, but you can chose which test to take. Getting a good grade will result in a big reward. Which test would you choose to take, if you had a week to study first?"

Really not a fan of how much of this test is "men are intellectual and do math and science while women are emotional and do literature and history".

"Your penis and testicles are destroyed, perhaps due to an accident or injury, but they are gone forever. You are otherwise the same as now, but you are utterly without your reproductive organs, just smooth, flat flesh. What is the most realistic statement of how you would deal with this?"

Does the person that made this test realize that what seems to be the most popular kind of SRS repurposes those bits and therefore losing them would also prevent further modification later? Pretty sure most trans people who understand that and have a sufficiently long time horizon would not wish for this to happen even if they don't enjoy having the thing.

But instead I'm getting the impression that the "True Trans" answer as evaluated by the test is to cheer at this.

"You are in a restaurant with some friends. It is moderately noisy, but not loud. A song you know comes over the loudspeakers, but done in Muzak (tm) style, often called "elevator music". Would you recognize the song instantly?"

Honestly if the kind of music I like played in a restaurant, even as elevator music, I would be completely shocked.

"Suddenly the entire world is magically changed. Now you exist in a world utterly devoid of gender. All bodies are hermaphroditic, utterly androgynous in appearance, both male and female at the same time. The culture reflects this, as does all human interaction. You, however, are still yourself inside, with all of your memories of living in our world as it is now. Your feelings are intact, only your flesh has been changed. In this new world, everyone dresses, acts, and lives however they feel at the time, and there is no such thing as being male or being female. You alone remember the world of gender. In such a world, would you still need to dress like a woman?"

Starts as an actually interesting premise for a question but then the actual question is "would you still dress like a woman"? I already don't do that. I already dress how I want so going there would not change anything.

"A doctor offers you a painless, absolutely effective means to be completely masculine. All feminine desires and traits would be eliminated, and you would be happy and content to be a man. You would never need to dress, and you would never want to be feminine in any way again. You are assured that after the treatment you would be completely content. Would you take the treatment?"

You don't get it. I don't think either extreme of gendered behavior is in line with most people's true feelings to begin with. Most men who are safe to express themselves do in fact have at least some "feminine" traits. These categories are made up and especially bad when used to prescribe how one should behave.

Furthermore, sufficiently radical and sudden personality changes are kind of like dying and being replaced by someone else who is just using the same body. This is why I wouldn't cure myself of autism too.

I think even men, cis or trans, have reasons to be wary of this treatment.

"When you look at a person's face, how well can you honestly judge what they are feeling?"

I should note that reading and pattern-matching expressions is not actually the same thing as feeling affective empathy. Anyone could learn to do it with practice and memory.

But also I feel like pointing out that trying to make unlikely claims based on things like expressions and body language is extremely dubious and a lot of people end up just imagining how the other person feels and assuming it to be true even though it isn't. It's often best not to make assumptions like that.

"You are having an erection. How do you feel?"

At this point? It should not even be possible.

"It is grade school. The teacher gives you a gold star on your work for excellence. What is it for? I knew how to multiply. The teacher thought I wrote the best poem. I got my addition right. I had perfect spelling with no mistakes. I knew the name of the capitol."

You may live in a strange world in which math is for boys and spelling is for girls, but I live in a story in which I am the mary sue protagonist and am good at anything I try. I could be getting the award for any subject I wanted except maybe the poetry because I don't have any interest trying to do that.

"There is a voice mail on your machine. The person does not leave a name, they seem to expect you to know them. How easy is it for you to remember who called by the sound of their voice?"

There was a similar question earlier but I really have to say: Even if you don't recognize someone's voice the context of what they are saying would give it away quickly enough that the question is not very realistic.

Especially since I just don't expect calls for anything I have not previously scheduled.

"A stranger is happy at meeting you. He wants to give you a hug. How do you honestly feel about this?"

Did there really have to be two questions about getting hugged by strange people? Are women really supposed to enjoy that kind of thing? The way a lot of the ones on tumblr talk I figured at least some would be outright paranoid or at least very uncomfortable about the idea.

Anyway, I got rated as "65, androgynous". This is not surprising to me considering how heavily this whole thing relies on traditional gender roles that do not go well with my autism at all.

The conclusions drawn from this, however, are especially stupid.

"As an androgynous being, both genders, and both sexes are natural to your expression."

This is true of practically everyone in the world. It's why conservatives and hyper-conformists in general need to punish and indoctrinate people into obeying that shit. If gender roles were as natural as they say it would not be necessary to enforce them and train people into them.

"Permanent polarization in either direction might bring significant unhappiness. It is not recommended that you go through a complete transsexual transformation."

Oops. I already did that and it worked great. It turns out that you can be trans and not want to be some kind of motherly bimbo who dresses exclusively in pink dresses with heavy makeup. There's a whole range to trans people, just like with cis people.

Just like how it would be ridiculous to ban cis women from being women if they're GNC, it's exactly the same with same with trans women.

"You might find a partial transformation of value, if you find yourself more attracted overall to the feminine. You are more likely a transgenderist, than a transsexual."

"Transgenderist"???

Oh, apparently that's an extremely archaic (and extremely confusing) term for non-binary.

But I'm not non-binary, just autistic.

Anyway, 0/10 this test is just bad in pretty much every way.

#long post

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havocspiral · 18 days

Note

do you have any evidence about shittyclive being a groomer? genuine question

im glad you asked because he literally groomed me!

note for all of this i am going to be using he/him, i don't keep up with him enough to know exactly what pronouns he uses, if its anything different please tell me and ill update this post. he may be a groomer but im not a twat. also please be patient because my chronological memory is Horrible so i may not remember things in the correct order, but i have all of this written down and i Know that all of this happened

this all happened bc of a server i made called DAAC in ~May 2020 - that's where i met neil and also his friend K (not gonna name em but iykyk), along w a few other people. most of the ppl in that server were obsessed w sexualising me, especially neil. im not abt to put my age on the internet but it was. yknow. not fun, and everyone in that server knew my age btw because i trusted them and did not think that all This would happen (he also drew nsfw stuff and showed it to me)

anyway to cut a very long and unimportant story short, dated a guy, he was crazy, broke up w him and he stalked me march 2021 to ~july 2021, in that time neil attempted to pose as a sort of "protector" and in his OWN WORDS a father figure. side note my stepdad died in feb 2021 and i grieved too much and he dropped a frankly quite ass song abt it but i digress. yeah we got really close knit we were a "father-son" duo and when i tell you the ONLY THING HE TALKED ABOUT WAS SEX i wish i was kidding but our only topics were him telling me abt what he wants to do to his man of the month or how hes suicidal and AGAIN, absolutely inappropriate at the age i was. this lasted for so long that i began to break down entirely and becoming suicidal, also resorting to drinking and hurting myself, even going to crisis teams along with missing a LOT of school because i had become entirely dependent on him. basically he had me on a leash and was using me as a crisis hotline AND a sex hotline. i tried to cut him off multiple times in an emotional state and this obviously wasn't the best thing i couldve done but i literally saw no other choice. oh also during this time he suggested i have DID and i had a counselor for my stepdads death and. god damn he may be a weirdo but he was correct there ill give him that (he did also try to recount my trauma to work out how i worked as a system which. i shouldnt even have to explain how thats just odd)

(another thing i just remembered he sent inappropriate pictures to me and my friend, ill put her recount of it at the end of this)

one day i spoke to K, realised that was i was doing was wrong and attempted to talk about the situation with neil to which he was like. oh yeah i cant do this anymore bye and when i went to tell K he did the same. this was when i was in school which was rare, i just entirely broke down (also worth mentioning every time he told me about being suicidal i mentioned getting a therapist but he said he couldn't and i would also get all shaky and sob uncontrollably and basically be unable to function THATS HOW BAD THE DEPENDENCY WAS) and i had to be picked up bc it was that bad

i texted his instagram begging for at least and explanation and that i loved him and wanted to talk to him again (<- so manipulated it was insane) and he was like yeah but only on weekends and i felt such STRONG RELIEF and then when i went to sleep he went sike lol bye

remember the bf from earlier? yeah he faked his identity multiple times so i (at the time) was used to keeping tabs on people since. stalking. and i didn't want the guy to get the jump on me. so i kept tabs on neil for a bit, which i do regret and am sorry for, and one day he just disappeared? and honestly? i celebrated. also the ex from earlier faked his death multiple times so neils attempt at faking it this way was a dig at that specific incident. it didnt really work because i think about a day ish later he admitted to my friend (the same one from earlier, ill call her V) that he did it and wasnt dead

then he "apologised" to me and while i may not have screenshots for the most part he mentions what he did in the apology which is just. outright admission FROM HIM about what he did. he also admitted the apology was a total lie on his blog which i find funny because he frames it as a "gotcha" when i didnt even accept the apology?

also found out from an anonymous person who knew neil that apparently hes meeting up w people and also is violent w his friends which. ew

ok heres the evidence

(censored parts are for my own safety)

#professor layton clive #professor layton #neilsshades #lemonade-luvr #shittyclive

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wikagirl · 5 months

Text

thanks to me allways having been depressed™ basicly all my life my memory has some huuuuuge holes in it because...depression likes to eat away at your memory like a mouse at some well aged cheese and now top all of that off with the good ol memory issues that come with adhd/add and bam, here I am.

I barely remember anything before I graduated 10th grade, at which point in germany you are expected to either seek further education or join the work force. The only things I do remember before finally breaking out from school were the bad stuff and things that people have told me about that did happen but I don't hold actual memory of them.

Sadly that part of barely remembering anything also affects my memory of the books. I've tried re-reading them a couple times, before I got my AuDD diagnosis and medication for it, but I could not hold the attention to do it even if I really wanted to.

Memories fade quite easily for me. But emotions on the other hand, they do not.

I don't remember a lot of things that happened in school, but I remember how I felt and I know how I still feel about some things to this day, but can't explain why because I don't remember the thing that cause the emotion.

I still feel a sense of dread and the urge to run when I drive past my old school building even though I haven't gone to that school in like what? 6 or 7 years? I still wake up some days from nightmares about my classmates, about my teachers and (probably worst of all) about how my parents brushed everything off as me seeking attention, just needing to get myself together a little bit more and stop being a whuss.

But I also still feel the emotions of joy I get when ever I open the courtain that is supposed to proctect my bookshelf from dust (It doesn't, it's loosing a lot of lint and it'S ORANGE so you see it everywhere) and see my full collection of the percy jackson series, the heroes of olympus, the kane chronicles, magnus chase (in eng and german I read that shit twice bc I love it), tirals of apollo, the new sun and the star book and even the little offical campguide book. I remember having so much fun with my only true friend that I manged to find in my class, wondering who our godly parents could be if we were characters in the books, if we were part of the norse, the greek or the roman families and making our own little clay bead necklaces.

There used to be this other girl too, we were a trio, but she broke off from the group. In hindsight it was pretty clear that she was only friends with us because we had a use to her, we had very few common interests but I was good in english and with creative work and my best friend is smart and understands things quickly, she did not. She only let me borrow the books from her because she had roped me into doing a book presentation about them for which I did all of the work.

The berayal of her being the one to make us promise to not fall out of touch and then her being the one to never text back and not even saying hello to us anymore on the street still stings this day. But I still have my best friend and the books are still on my shelf.

There is a tent in a box in the attic now. It's about half the size of my room, 2x4m, made with wooden poles and cotton tarp. My home stands on old farm ground, our garden is big with some nice trees for shade.

When summer comes we will put up that tent, dig out the old fire bowl from the garden shed and light some torches and laterns for light. We will grill together, invite some of our newer friends and we will sing songs by the fire. We'll bring out our weapon collections, most of us are active in some form of fantasy roleplay and almost all of us have at least one sword to their name, we'll spar on the grass and chase eachother for fun til our lung give out to the summer heat. With our new friends, the ones that chose us for the things we share and not just the things we provide, we will live a little piece of that dream and taste the small bit of joy that kept us going when we felt the most hated by the world.

Emotions stick to me like gum to the bottom of a school desk, forgotten until you need to cawl down there to pick up the pen you accidently dropped and see how many are actually stuck down there.

And the show makes me feel like I just dropped my whole fucking pencilcase.

#breaking news:#local woman that turned off her emotions to survive is having a mental breakdon because she found the switch to turn them back on #ON THE DAY OF CHRISTMAS EVE FOR FUCKS SAKE #percy jackson #pjo tv series #pjo #my mom walked in on me sobbing while writing this which is not a good look on christmas eve #also yes I'm german we celebrate on the 24th #long post #tw bullying #tw depression

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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Ladytron — Time’s Arrow (Cooking Vinyl)

Photo by Wendy Redfern

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Ladytron already had their big comeback. The formed-in-Liverpool, now-international quartet took a few years to assemble their starkly dystopian 2019 self-titled record, shortly before the rest of the world became dystopic in new and interesting ways. Ladytron was practically the model of (one version of) a triumphant return: bigger and bolder and weightier than ever, a real Statement (but with tunes). Everyone’s senses of time seem increasingly fuzzy, but the gap between its release and that first period of chaos and uncertainty seems vanishingly small in retrospect. In 2023, though, no matter how cautious or reckless any of us are being, the simple fact is that living in a still unmanaged pandemic (not to mention… everything else) has become in some way routine. None of the systems of power, control and repression that Ladytron evoked have gone away, but the horrible truth is that humans will adjust to just about anything, even constantly shrieking alarms. Fittingly enough, the first record Ladytron have made in this new normal is less about noticing those structures and more about limning the small moments of beauty, joy and freedom that can still be found within them.

This thematic and tonal shift doesn’t require much of a change in sonics. Mira Arroyo and Helen Marnie’s vocals still feel like each syllable is carefully placed, calibrated to summon up emotions without necessarily directly expressing catharsis. The music sticks to the same general lane Ladytron have trafficked in since they (plus Daniel Hunt and Reuben Wu) moved away from the straightforward throwback synthpop of the first two LPs with 2005’s dreampop-adjacent Witching Hour. That record really unlocked Ladytron’s sound and they haven’t exhausted its possibilities yet; the pulse and stomp of opener “City of Angels” or the sparkling twilight balladry of “Misery Remember Me” are classic examples of what Ladytron has always done well and why it’s good to have them back.

Especially on the back half of Time’s Arrow, though, there are some new wrinkles. Has Ladytron ever had a song as plainly joyous as “The Night,” with the synths surging warmly around Marnie almost cooing “so let’s go crazy”? It’s followed directly by “The Dreamers,” a little more downcast but still sounding like the soundtrack to running away with someone. Elsewhere “California” almost pleads for the titular state to “make us happy” (albeit on a track that sounds like slowly sliding down the side of a glacier). As you dig into the lyrics none of the songs here are facilely happy, or in denial about the same emotional and structure issues Ladytron brought to the surface. But if that last record was about coming to terms with living in an ongoing disaster (ecological and otherwise), Time’s Arrow is more about navigating life after that kind of realization. The day in/day out still happens, time’s arrow (as Arroyo sings on the closing title track) still glides through your heart.

As is common on Ladytron records, Marnie sings most of the songs but Arroyo’s couple of leads are crucial. In addition to time another big throughline here is the always-shifting power memory, and on the first side’s “Flight From Angkor” she faces it directly: “memory's a hall of mirrors / echoing for years.” Things keep happening, and the longer they do the more hazy our grasp on that moment of realization we had gets. What is there to do but draw together, find safety and community where we can, try to change things, and dance?

Ian Mathers

#ladytron #time's arrow #cooking vinyl #ian mathers #albumreview #dusted magazine #synthpop #dream pop #dystopia

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nadircozy · 7 months

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What does music mean to you?

"A life without music isn’t a life worth living.” I’m not quite sure who said that (I said it) but that is something I can agree with wholeheartedly. As long as we’ve all been alive, music has been apart of our lives in some capacity. The songs we hear in retail stores that we can’t get out of our heads, throwback tracks that make us reminisce, cleaning the house on Saturday mornings, long drives, gym sessions, and more. Even if you’re not an avid listener in your free time, music is always apart your life serving a purpose. For music lovers, it may be a soundtrack to their lives, an outlet, their passion, etc. Today we’re speaking with musician of many talents Papa Mbahwe, to discuss essentially what music means to him.

Me: What was your introduction to music?

Papa: My introduction to music was after I got cut from my middle school basketball team. I needed something to keep me busy since athletics wasn’t it. I never anticipated it being a huge part of my life.

Me: Is it something that were interested in prior?

Papa: I was definitely always artistic, whether it be writing, drawing or storytelling. Music was always somewhat of a background of my life. I found that music or specifically the saxophone was the vessel of expression that I was the most proficient at

Me: The sax. That seems like an instrument that you have to have a vivid memory of. Do you remember the first time you heard it?

Papa: My dad would play miles Davis’ kind of blue in the car when I was a kid. My conception of the saxophones sound was formed by cannonball adderley and John Coltrane. Of course I’d be hearing smooth jazz sax all over the place, but their sound resonated with me more

Me: Would you say this is what made you fall in love with music?

Papa: What made me fall in love with music was not by hearing its pleasant sounds, but rather its ability to articulate the inarticulable through sound

Me: Sounds like you don’t like to just hear music but feel it. How does that translate to your own music?

Papa: When I was younger I lacked the discipline to play tastefully and listen to what was going on around me, I was filled with circus tricks. Nowadays I learned to put my ego aside and play for musics sake rather than some ulterior motive (unless I’m trynna get a check ya dig)

Me: Would you say the way you play music is parallel to your personality?

Papa: Id say the way I play parallels my mood—which is fluid— or my interpretation of a memory or an aesthetic that im trying to capture

Me: Being as though you have your own playing style, how do you like to create, solo or collaboratively?

Papa: With hip-hop, I adore the process of writing, hunting samples and listening by myself. However with Jazz music, I find it almost impossible to improvise without the help of others— not even from the point of playing in a band. It’s as if the audience is also apart of making the music.

Me: Do you enjoy playing music or writing music more?

Papa: Mmmm that’s difficult, playing allows me to just be in the moment. I don’t have an abstract or artsy way of explaining it like some musicians typically do.

Me: Speaking of being in the moment how does it feel to perform?

Papa: Performing feels great when you’re well prepared. But really it depends on the situation, sometimes you’re playing at a cocktail hour and it feels like a job. But when you’re at a club or festival there’s a feeling of community, self reflection and at times catharsis

Me: You’ve mentioned family, expression, storytelling, emotion up to this point. What does music mean to you?

Papa: Music is a language used to honor heritage, create community, and impose order on our rawest unstructured thoughts and emotions.

Furthermore, an art form such is subjective. Art is subjective as a whole regardless of the type. You can’t put an exact definition on what it means, what it’s suppose to make you feel, if it makes you feel. But, that’s the beauty of it. Getting a inside look of the mind of an artist definitely has had a profound effect on how I think about music. I hope this helped you ponder what music means to you.

#new music #jazz music #hip hop

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twwpress · 1 year

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Creator Spotlight #22: jazzjo

Welcome back to the TWW Author Spotlight! For every spotlight, we’ll ask each featured author the same ten questions (as well as questions you submitted on Twitter!). This week we’re excited to be chatting with jazzjo (on AO3 - @sameschtick on twitter)!

1) What are your top 5 desert island fics by other authors?

baby it’s cold outside by crossingdelancey It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s cj’s gay meg ryan winter, what more could you want.

may these memories break our fall by claudiasjeancregg A real gateway fic to cj/toby/andy that captures the internal lives of all three characters so well; I could (and do) read it over and over.

Red, White, and Boo by fleurfemme Scream meets West Wing meets great ensemble writing. Incredible.

departures and arrivals by rearviewmirror Atlas plays with distance and time and liminal space to pack so much yearning into this piece.

we thought love was something we weren’t meant to find by darlingdarling I love pieces that take a little moment in canon and expand on the potential and this one just knocks it out of the park.

2) Do you have a favorite character to write? Favorite ship(s) to write? Are there characters or ships you'd like to write more of?

My crutch character is C.J. by a long shot (who’s surprised) – the interiority of her as a character in how she’s portrayed is just so fascinating to me. My favourite character to write is probably either Andy or Charlie. Both of them get witty repartee in canon but there’s so much not said that I do love taking my authorial liberties.

Favourite ship is cj/andy hands down. I think I’ve populated half the tag (the math works out – 29/55) because I’m incorrigible about them. This extends to permutations within the cj/andy/toby triangle, which is a sandbox I love to play in.

I’d like to explore writing more about Charlie, Donna, and Joey. I’ve done a bit of all three (finally caved and wrote something Charlie-centric recently) but they’re still more challenging to properly capture.

3) Tell us about your writing process (setup/location? Night or day? Snacks/beverages? Computer/phone/notebook? Music or silence? Anything else you want to share is welcome!)

My (somewhat messy) rolling desk. Night (by necessity, because work). Emotional support water bottle or seltzer or a hot drink. Laptop, though I used to primarily write in a notebook. Music either completely accelerates or impedes the process, it’s really a toss up. I love writing with it, and take a lot of inspiration from it, but I sometimes get too distracted by it and have to turn it off.

I used to write longer things, back before I started working full-time. I only started writing for TWW in the last half-year and have gravitated to shorter chapters and one-shots because I like writing a full chapter in one sitting and I have less time. Even so, this lil baby can fit so much angst into it.

4) What writing advice do you have for others who may be reading this?

Write what you want to read. If something comes naturally, lean in. Catch passing thoughts and phrases in a small notebook or on your phone. Make a habit of writing. There’s always time to write – five minutes on the train, ten minutes before you sleep – but don’t let it take over your rest time.

5) From where do you usually draw your inspiration? (Other forms of media, music, tropes, etc?)

I love pulling and expanding on the tiniest moments in canon, or I’ll get a single line of a song so under my skin it turns into something on the page. I love intertextuality and my best work tends to happen between mediums.

I tend to draw on things I know well, so you’ll see recurrent themes and references like classical music, theater, Jewish life, and literature sprinkled throughout my writing.

6) What is the fic you've written that you're most proud of and why?

This is cheating, but I couldn’t pick between two.

turning in place is probably the best developed of anything i’ve written for TWW. It digs into Toby as a character in ways I didn’t really think I could do, and it really was me trying to find a way I could stomach the shuttle leak arc. It plays with time, it plays with religion, it plays with guilt and family and dwelling too much or too little or just enough on things, and if that isn’t Toby Ziegler. I think form, character, and content collided in a way I have been trying to get to again in this fic, and I still don’t know how I did it.

In one-shot land, enumerated powers comes to mind. It came completely out the left field, but I loved writing Evelyn Baker Lang as a character and imagining (aka spreadsheet planning) a workable backstory for her that bled through the whole fic.

7) What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd read 1000 of? What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd write 1000 of?

Romcom tropes kill me in the best way every time. Writing-wise, I love writing looks into post-canon and filling in the blanks within canon.

8) Is there anything you'd like to try writing-wise that you haven't yet?

A true ensemble fic. I came close in too wise to woo peaceably but not quite.

9) What's your go-to Starbucks/coffee shop/other drink order?

I tend to go for black coffee out of my aeropress, sometimes slightly sweetened, and I love all manners of tea, but both of those tend to be drinks I make myself. My one vice is bubble tea, and I’ll almost always get unsweetened oolong tea with taro pearls, without the ice in it if I can help it.

10) Do you have any current projects you'd like to promote or anything upcoming you'd like to tell us about?

I’m working on an Andy/Toby fic inspired by The Last Five Years – we see Andy in reverse and Toby in chronological order – called compel me to ask you for more.

Submitted questions:

From @JessBakesCakes: Do you have a headcanon about one of your fics that didn’t make it to the story for one reason or another? If so, what is it?

The continuation to watching the skies (the charlie-centric fic I mentioned earlier where Charlie is COS to POTUS, which is Andy) that I clipped and set aside to focus more on Charlie’s road back to the White House has C.J. eventually running for Congress in Andy’s second term because the spin boys make a whole case for it, even though she still feels a bit like an outsider to Hill politics. I almost always think of C.J. – like Leo – as the person behind the curtain, but I think one of the ways she might step into a campaign of her own is if someone she really trusted made a case for why it would help the constituents for her to run in place of a shitty incumbent.

From @S4MWILS0N: favorite: season, ep, one liner, character duo (romantic), character duo (platonic), plot arc, hc for pre post and during canon? craziest au you’ve ever considered? snippet/idea that never became anything? fave trope to read or write? moment that made u fall in love w the show?

Favourite…

Season: Three

Episode: The Supremes or Hartsfield’s Landing

One-Liner: “There is literally no one in the world that I don’t hate right now.”

Character Duo (Romantic): CJ/Andy

Character Duo (Platonic): CJ & Josh (early seasons) CJ & Charlie (later seasons)

Plot Arc: debate prep (also that we only saw the original campaign after we were already invested)

HC for Pre-Canon: CJ and Andy were grad school roommates. When Toby first introduces the two when he starts dating Andy they don’t tell him, and just let how similar they can be freak him out. He doesn’t find out for way longer than you think.

HC for Post-Canon: Charlie sets out on his own for a bit. Donna finishes school and goes back into politics. CJ never goes to California – she goes to Ohio to take care of her father, then back to the East Coast.

HC for During Canon: CJ has a personal relationship with each of the Bartlet girls – she’s the older sister Liz never got to have; she’s a model for living a full life while queer to Ellie; Zoey is a little skeptical at first but she ends up closest to CJ because CJ always Shows Up for her, no matter what, and holds her father back from being too embarrassing.

Craziest AU: rockstar AU my white whale

Snippet that never became anything: I have a whole folder titled “ideas i may never write / finish”. I will refrain from naming names out of hope that something will eventually exit that folder.

Moment that made me fall in love with the show: when I realised everyone talks as fast as I do

Thank you so much to jazzjo! And thank you to everyone who asked questions. This is our last creator spotlight for now - we may pick it up again if there’s interest in the future! We really appreciate every one who signed up to be featured and who asked questions for making this such a fun experience! As always you can reach us at [email protected], through tumblr messages, or on Twitter!

xx, What’s next?

#the west wing #west wing #tww #tww fandom #tww fic #tww fic rec #creator spotlight #cj cregg #andy wyatt #toby ziegler #cj x andy #cj x toby #cj x toby x andy #andy x toby #charlie young #fic writiers

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