#I feel like some of you didn't listen to the lyrics of the stains of time

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Until it finds my dreams have disappeared

I've been debating about whether or not to post this for a while. Mostly because I use my tumblr to post dumb stuff or act as a distraction from stress. I'm getting kind of tired with people though. This isn't something exclusive to the Metal Gear franchise (far from it) but it's something I've noticed happening quite frequently. Metal Gear has many characters with horrible backgrounds that suffer from PTSD/CPTSD and many mental health issues. I can't help but notice that there's a trend in the younger crowd (isn't mgs exclusive) that whenever there's a heavily traumatized character (I've only seen it happen with male characters but I assume the opposite does happen) that they considere attractive, they will simp for them and post things unironically.

It's like they see someone who they think is attractive and start actually going "NO I CAN FIX THEM! THEY'RE JUST SAD LITTLE MEOW MEOWS". Like it's fine to make jokes but when you see posts that resemble those weird celebrity fan pages bordering on obsession I think it's time to take a step back. I get some people identify with characters which is fine but they'll completely ignore said characters actions and be like "sure they killed all those people but I'd totally let them cut me up if I had the chance to smash" when the person in question isn't even real. Or there will be a character that's traumatized so badly that they think that if you just cuddle a person like that and baby them then you can fix them. I guess I'm mostly just mad because I feel like usually these are young kids who still have a chance for a good life but they're very ignorant about how people affected by trauma can be.

It's not some cute, quirky thing. It changes your whole world and your beliefs, especially when it starts in childhood. You can technically put this for any character that meets the criteria but personally for me I would have to choose Monsoon from Metal Gear Rising. He grew up with no choice but to kill to survive and witnessed the Cambodian genocide along with working for the mafia and nearly dying from that. I don't really care if someone has a crush on a fictional character, personally that's none of my business. What I'm tired of is seeing frequent posts that range from "uwu my soft cinnamon roll baby" to all the graphic smut on here depicting tortue.

I can't speak for everyone but personally I find it demeaning when being coddled by others. Yes, I went through things but please don't treat me like a child. It feels insulting. I also have no problems with BDSM but I can only take seeing so many posts that basically allude to someone drawing a character about to be raped for their own personal enjoyment. It's especially bad when people make stuff of that for characters who have already been held hostage or enslaved (I'm looking at Vergil x Mundus shippers specifically).

Trauma is not something that you can help someone overcome. It consumes them and becomes your entire world regardless of how it came to be. In fact trauma is often passed down through genes. Though you may not have someone else's memories you will have the same reactions to traumatic situations that those before you did or your body will adapt to that kind of environment. Hypervigilance can be passed down through epigenic changes in DNA.

This is where things get personal for me. Though I've never met them, I know I come down from genocide survivors. I'm either third or fourth generation. I'm not exactly sure what they saw but from what I've read it was common to see various forms of torture. One method was to stick babies in the sand and then trample over their heads with horses... Based on the family I could find and knowing their location, they must have survived the death marches and I'm unsure if they were at the final killing fields or not. That's not even mentioning everything they had being taken away from them and seeing everyone they knew suffer horrible fates. To this day bone fragments will still rise from the ground, the bodies of the dead never having been put properly to rest.

I'm unable to travel there but if I could, I couldn't help but feel like I'm being swallowed by death. Why am I here but so many perished. Then on to my father. I don't know much about him and he passed away when I was a child. All I really know about his background was that he came from a wealthy family. It was common for his friends families to have guards outside their children's bedroom doors. We lived in a western country where it was "safe" (he wasnt originally from where I Iive) but I remember he wouldn't sleep at night and would seem like he was looking for something during the day. Sometimes he just stared like he was waiting for something to happen but nothing ever came. I don't want to say that he was an intentionally cruel person, just that I don't think he had the capabilities to act like a normal human being. I was raised with a mindset of being better than others. That is to say that I wasn't supposed to have weakness. It makes sense looking back. He survived having his body messed up and I was told he survived assisnation attemps (corruption is huge down there so it's not like police could do anything). Nothing was said after so I assumed he killed whoever was after him before they could kill him. Pretty much a kill or be killed mindset.

Growing up I realized he was hard on us not to hurt us but because he thought it would make things easier for us in the future. I know it must have been even worse for him if he thought that this was being kind. Anyway he passed away when I was a child and long story short but for whatever reason my family couldn't get in contact with us so I never received my inheritance but that's for the best. I don't know how well I would have handled it at nine if I knew there was a possibility of being kidnapped or killed for the money or because someone had a grudge against my father.

I guess I always knew I was different but his death really solidified that. I was used to having to be tougher but it seems like my older sister and mother couldn't handle it. They already cried one time when we couldn't see him (which was often) and once the news broke I just remember everyone sobbing and screaming in agony. I didn't feel anything though. I realize now that it was dissociation but no tears would fall and I understood what was happening but it felt like I couldn't emotionally process it. At some point I have no memories up until a certain point. Whenever I have some sort of traumatic situation happen I suffer from dissociative amnesia. I'm not sure for how long, I just know that there are large gaps in my memory.

Right before my memories vanished I can remember not wanting to exist anymore. The day after I was surrounded by all the sobbing and knew that I couldn't let myself die. If I did I would just be trying to escape from my pain and would place it on my family. So for the last two decades I haven't really had a dream or anything to look forward to. I've just had a goal of trying not to die. There are many more traumatic things that followed which I won't get into but I dislike telling people my life story since they just give me looks of pity or seem like they want to ask how I haven't killed myself yet.

Unfortunately the kill or be killed mindset has been passed on. While I've never harmed anyone, I have recovered memories involving someone I trusted keeping me against my will and unspeakable things happening many times. I've had frequent nightmares since then and didn't know that my situation wasn't normal. By the time I was a teenager I found out that I didnt have to live my life in fear and allow abuse to keep happening. I've decided since then that I'll do whatever I can should I be faced with a similar situation in the future. I can only fight back to stop such a thing from happening again. It will most likely never occur again but it still affects my life everyday. I can't go out in public without someone I trust and even then I still scan the whole area and look for an escape route. I shouldn't have to feel like everyone around me is a possible threat to my safety and freedom.

I don't think people realize just how calming the rain can actually be. Not just the light stuff but heavy rain. It acts as a soothing white noise that drowns out your thoughts and feeling it hit your body also distracts you. I won't say when since it could reveal my location but within the last few years I was outside during a very bad storm that had frequent wet microbursts. It destroyed all the trees in the area and I almost died but I felt oddly calm. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. There was so much wind and rain that it resembled blowing snow and there was so much water hitting the ground that it would form waves that would zoom so fast and then crash only to repeat the process over and over.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm annoyed by all the sexualization of people with mental health issues. With the way some people act towards characters that don't exist, it worries me how they could treat real people going through similar situations. And on the other hand please see trauma survivors as real people. Many of us had to survive on our own and you thinking someone being terrified is just a shy/cute trait that makes them adorable is infuriating. I can't tell you how much I hate the latter. I'm so sick of people thinking that I need someone to spoil me with affection and protect me to the point where I feel like I'm being treated as a baby. It just makes me feel more weak and pathetic.

[kiwriteswords]

I was listening to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae (it gives me so much Hotch vibes for some reason??? I love it) and I thought it would be the perfect occasion to make a request for your Thirsty Thursday 👀 I don't have much idea but I guess something in the car, maybe a younger reader so we have a lovely age gap and maybe something that goes with the lyrics "I write my name with lipstick on your chest I leave a mark so you know I'm the best" (don't need to be the name writing of course ahah but I love the idea of lipstick stains on his chest)

You're the absolute best and congrats on your 2k btw!! you deserve thousand more 🫶

Fog up the windows in the parking lot [Aaron Hotchner x Age-Gap!Reader] **

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Hii! Thank you so much for this request--I still can't believe I was listening to this song when you sent this, haha. Great minds think alike!! I hope you like this (I can't write smut to save my life, but here i am doing a smut day.)

Tags/Warnings: female reader, porn without plot honestly, smut, mdni, unprotected sex, car sex, I am bad at writing smut sorry, horny hotch, sorta brat tamer hotch, age gap, you're hotch's controversially young gf, not specified if reader is BAU (so up to your imagination).

Summary: The one where Aaron Hotchner realizes he goes weak in the knees when he sees how tight his much younger girlfriend's jeans are.

Hotch couldn't help himself today, and it was all because of those jeans you decided to wear. Each time you bent over to grab something off the lower shelves at the grocery store, his heart skipped a beat, his mind filled with thoughts that had no place in the brightly lit aisles of their local market. You were oblivious to the effect you were having on him, focused on checking items off the grocery list, your hips swaying naturally as you moved down the aisles.

It wasn’t just the bending or the swaying; it was every little thing you did. Each time you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, the way your back arched slightly, Hotch felt a pull deep inside him, a stirring of feelings he hadn't expected to be so strong.

When you both loaded the groceries into the car and then reached into the backseat to grab your purse, your jeans hugging you perfectly, Hotch found his eyes lingering. He was usually more composed than this, more in control, but today, those jeans had him teetering on the edge.

Driving home, he kept stealing glances your way, each look like adding fuel to a fire he was struggling to contain. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning and desire mingled together. "You have no idea what those jeans are doing to me," he confessed, trying to keep his focus on the road but failing miserably.

You turned to look at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eye, fully aware now of the turmoil you were causing. His words, so out of character for the usually stoic and controlled man, only brought a playful smile to your lips.

Hotch knew he was treading uncharted waters, not just with his emotions but with how openly he was expressing them. Despite the teasing from the team, who noticed how much younger you were, and their offhand jokes about him being like a lovestruck teenager, it didn't matter. You brought out a side of him he never knew existed. A side that felt alive, vibrant, and yes, even a bit reckless.

You sighed, looking in your purse for something beside Hotch in the passenger seat. He then all about lost it when you unbuckled your seat belt in the passenger seat and twisted to the back. Your ass was now level with his head, practically drawing him in. He had to keep his eyes on the road--but god dammit. 

The car shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from the tension. "You're doing this on purpose now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and barely contained desire.

Playing coy, you didn't respond immediately. Instead, you found your lipstick and settled back into your seat, taking your time to apply it carefully, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicked, catching yours, and you saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

Hotch stepped on the gas a bit harder than necessary, the slight surge forward a clear indication of his growing impatience and agitation. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, teasing him further. "You know, you're really sexy when you're all hot and bothered," you pointed out, your tone playful yet sincere.

The remark seemed to hit a nerve, and Hotch took a deep breath, trying to refocus his attention on the road. But it was clear you had effectively distracted him, his mind racing with thoughts he usually kept well under wraps. This side of Hotch, the one that struggled between his composed exterior and the mounting desire you elicited, intrigued you. It was a side of him that came out rarely, and you relished the moments when you could draw it out, loving the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous glint in your eye, and teased him, "I have a good idea."

Hotch's response was immediate and a little strained, his voice tight as he focused on the road. "The only idea I have right now is getting home and taking a cold shower." He was half-joking, but the undertone of his voice betrayed his growing frustration and need.

You laughed lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him, but decided to push the envelope a little further. "You know," you started casually as if the thought had just occurred to you, "I've always wanted to have sex in the car."

Hotch paused at that, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. The rational side of him kicked in almost immediately, listing several reasons why that was not a good idea—safety, legality, the potential for discomfort. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, he felt your hand on his thigh.

Your fingers started caressing him, inching dangerously close to his groin. Each touch sent a jolt through him, scattering his thoughts and straining his control. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath, trying to concentrate on the road while battling the surge of desire your bold move had ignited.

He half sighed, half groaned your name, his voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the road. "That's not—"

But he didn't finish his sentence. The sensation of your fingers, the way you leaned closer to him, your breath on his neck as you whispered just how much you wanted this—all of it was overwhelming. Hotch gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the car speeding along as he battled the surge of desire that you sparked with your daring touch.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the more he thought about your suggestion, the more appealing it seemed. Here he was, a man always in control, always calculated, yet at this moment, driven to the edge by the simple act of your hand on his leg.

"We should... we should at least pull over," he finally conceded, his voice a mix of reluctance and desire, realizing that resisting you completely was a battle he might not want to win today. As he scanned for a secluded spot to park, the thrill of the impending escapade with you sent a jolt of anticipation through him. 

Hotch pulled the car over, the tires crunching softly on the gravel as he turned off into a secluded spot shielded by trees. Without a word, he reached over the console, his movements deliberate, and captured your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your lipstick leaving a taste of cherries against his lips, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His hands roamed over your body with a sense of urgency and ownership, finally reaching across the console to trace down your legs to those tight jeans that had been torturing him all day. His touch sent shivers up your spine, and you pulled back breathless, meeting his gaze which had darkened with raw desire.

"You’re gonna need to help me peel these off," you suggested with a playful yet sultry tone, motioning towards the backseat, "Maybe back there would be better?"

The idea sent a thrill through Hotch, the tightness in his own jeans growing at the thought. His brain buzzed with a cascade of 'what ifs' — what if we get caught? What if someone sees? Yet, the logical side of him was quickly overridden by the sheer desire to be closer to you, to explore this daring side of your relationship.

Hotch's decision was made the moment you suggested moving to the backseat, but as he surveyed the space, he realized there was enough room if he pushed the driver's seat all the way back. The SUV, similar to the one he drove for the FBI, was spacious, but even then, the two of you fit just barely.

You began to wiggle out of your jeans in the passenger seat, and Hotch reached for his belt with urgency. Typically, your intimate moments were full of foreplay, and you both took your time, savoring each other. But today was different—there was a sense of rush, an urgency in the air as he pulled himself from his jeans, his eyes never leaving you.

"Come here," he said in a low, commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a direct, uncharacteristically blunt invitation, but it carried all the intensity of your mutual desire. He adjusted himself, making space for you, anticipation etching every line of his face as he awaited you to straddle his lap.

Your eyes went from his to his hand as he began stroking himself with a semi-achingly slow pace that made your eyes widen. He watched you slide your panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor of the car with your jeans and shoes.

The rush, the spontaneity—it all contributed to a thrilling urgency neither of you could deny. As you moved towards him, leaving the constraints of your jeans behind, the tight confines of the SUV seemed to close in, enveloping you both in a private world where only your intertwined desires mattered.

You slid from the passenger seat, the fabric of the car seats whispering beneath you as you maneuvered yourself toward Hotch. The confined space of the SUV made every movement more deliberate, more charged with an electrifying tension. Your heart raced as you reached him; his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the pounding of your pulse.

Carefully, you straddled him, positioning yourself over his lap. Hotch's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm and sure, anchoring you securely against him. The close quarters of the SUV enveloped you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that amplified each breath, each subtle shift in movement.

His hand moved from your hip to between your legs, spreading you and finding the wetness that waited for him there. He groaned, feeling it; he threw his head back, opening his neck for you to nip at and kiss. You began unbuttoning his button-up, glad he went without the tie today and just the button-up and jeans--a casual look you loved. 

You reached between the two of you and positioned him before swiftly sinking down with a shared groan filling the walls between the two of you. You felt the pads of his fingertips grip your hips again as you began to rock into him, subconsciously clenching around him. 

His hands caressed the curve of your ass, guiding your hips to rock against him. The way he pressed you so firmly down against his hips had the right amount of pressure on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure. 

His hands spread up your sides on your still-clothed top. Through your shirt, he grabbed at your breasts roughly before returning to your ass. 

Hotch got a little rougher, meeting your hips rand ocking against his with a thrust beneath you. You could feel him deep within you. Caught in your throat was a moan, but the pleasure was too immense--too good. 

“You have no idea what you were doing to me today in those jeans,” Hotch panted, his lips finding the crook between your shoulder and your neck as he began to meet you thrust for thrust--so deep, so good--so much. 

“Oh,” You squeaked, “I have an idea.” You laughed, breathlessly. 

“Fucking,” Thrust, “Brat.” The sound of your hips smacking. Your thighs sweaty now against him, and your wetness now audible. 

“You love it,” You breathed, your lips going down to his chest now, kissing him and leaving marks of your lips from your lipstick, stained across his chest. 

“Yes,” He thrusted again, sharper now, but the rhythm beginning to falter. “You better hurry up and come,” he said breathlessly. You clenched around him with a glint in your eyes, “I’m serious.” 

Reaching between the two of you, you began working your clit with a circular rhythm that was old faithful in any situation. Hotch’s eyes squeezed shut then open, continuing to meet you. There was a found tempo from the way your fingers circled your clit and the way his hips met yours.

You felt the coil begin to tighten as your orgasm approached. Your thighs began to shake and you threw your head back. Hotch’s fingers bruising your hips continued with each deep thrust. Over and over and over. Just right. 

You came with a gasp, which was then covered by Hotch’s lips kissing you. His hips beginning to lose control as his own orgasm left him. You felt him empty within you, only adding to the sensitivity you felt deep within you. His hips stuttered against you, resting, but your thighs still shaking against him. As if to hold you into place, his hand rested at the small of your back, settleing you. 

A groan left his lips into your mouth, and the two of you slowed with lethargy. As the intensity of the moment ebbed, Hotch's hands gently caressed your skin, soothing and tender in their touch. The two of you were left sweaty and breathless, the aftermath of your passion palpable in the close, humid air of the SUV. His hands moved slowly, tracing patterns across your back and shoulders, each stroke helping to ground you both as you came down from your highs.

The small space of the car, which just moments ago had felt electrifying and exhilarating, now seemed overly warm and confining. As you both caught your breath, the reality of the situation gently settled in—a mixture of amusement and affection hanging between you.

"We definitely need a shower," Hotch murmured, a slight grin playing on his lips as he acknowledged the state both of you were in. The thought of continuing this intimacy in the shower brought a soft smile to your face.

"And maybe a detail for the car," you added, laughing softly, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the idling engine. The humor of the situation wasn't lost on you, and Hotch's responding chuckle told you he felt the same.

"So, I take it you liked the jeans?" you asked, a playful note in your voice.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of mischief mixed with undeniable affection. "I loved them," he admitted, his voice low and enticing. "But for the sake of productivity, maybe never wear them again around me if we actually want to get anything done."

His witty response made you laugh, the sound light and carefree. It was moments like these that deepened your connection, mixing playful banter with the intense chemistry you shared. 

Your fingers trace the outline of your lips marked all along his neck and chest from the now-smeared lipstick you had applied moments before. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you pointed them out. "You know, this might be my favorite look on you now," you said, the playful tone in your voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he reached up to feel the marks, his fingers brushing over the spots you indicated. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, appreciative of your boldness and the memory of the moments that led to such disarray.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice laced with humor and a warmth that reached his eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing we're heading home then. I might need to wear it more often if it gets that kind of approval."

As you watched the fading lipstick marks on his skin, you leaned closer, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "I like marking what's mine," you murmured, tracing a finger lightly over one of the marks, emphasizing your words.

Hotch looked at you, his expression softening into one of deep affection, the playful retort ready on his lips turning into something far more tender. "Sweetheart, you don't need marks to know I am," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with a sincerity that warmed you through.

You kissed him tenderly there before he patted your bare hip. You smiled against his lips, knowing the two of you had to leave this little intimate cocoon now. “I know, I know,” you sighed against his lips before whimpering, slowly moving off of him, trying not to make an entire mess of his already dirtied car. Hotch groaned, feeling you leave his lap. 

Despite the age gap between you, something about being with you made Hotch feel as though he was losing his innocence all over again; each moment tinged with a freshness and excitement that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It was a rediscovery, a rejuvenation of spirit in the best way possible, with every laugh, touch, and shared secret making him feel both wonderfully vulnerable and profoundly alive.

He sure hoped you wore those jeans again. 

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Kinktober day 21, Biting - Toby, GN

You might be wondering, Aubrie, didn't you say you'd only post these written out on AO3 so they'd all be together? And, yes, I did say that, but I am making today an exception because I feel this fic is very viscerally my canon yandere Toby and I want it on the blog.

You can still click right here to find it on AO3 and leave any comments or kudos as that would be much appreciated <3

But I also just. I wanted this to be in my yandere tag, as I finally wrote yandere Toby and biting with actual smut.

CWs for this one; dub-con into possible consent, biting, blood, depictions of gore, cannibalism as a very direct metaphor for love, I guess cannibalism as love???, Toby being insane, Reader losing themselves to his insanity, Stockholm syndrome. It really just is Toby basically biting and kind of eating the reader while reader can't decide if they consent or not. (There's also some secret lyrics from a song hidden in there I was listening to while writing <3)

I had a very visceral reaction in one of the ending scenes of this and had to tone it down because it made me so uncomfortable, but I do really REALLY love this as one of my yandere Toby fics. Please enjoy <3

"It wo-wouldn't be so bad if y-you stopped resisting." His tone did little to calm your anxious squirming, his hips holding your own down, hands restraining yours above your head. The blood that coated his lips wasn't his own, and the soreness in your shoulder pressed the tears blooming in your eyes to trail free. You knew from past experience that regardless of how hard you struggled or resisted, even if you'd fully submit to him, the pain would still sting with the same intensity, and he'd provoke you however he could to get a reaction out of you. You opened your mouth to respond, and his eyes narrowed in warning for you not to speak.

"Just let me h-have some f-fun." A twisted smile blooming on his cheeks had you trembling once more as he pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and pressed it jarringly softly into your abdomen, slicing cleanly through your clothing but leaving your skin free of blood. No, Toby wouldn't cut you with it, he'd much rather draw the blood out of your skin himself. He licked his lips, your blood smearing across them, as he watched your clothes peel off your skin, and he switched both of your wrists into one of his larger hands so he could remove your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him as his eyes devoured you.

It was one of the few times he still looked soft and loving, when his hooded eyes roamed your figure, his hand softly tracing and caressing with a gentleness you were rarely given. It was moments like this where you could almost believe he still loved you, that he was still your sweet, caring Toby that you'd fallen in love with, but the blood shining on his teeth as he smiled at you was quick to squash that thought. Hand trailing back up your body to rest at your throat, squeezing firmly as he looked over your face, your eyes widening in fear, tears staining your cheeks, the giggle leaving his throat far too happy.

"S-so cute!" He cooed at you, leaning down to press kisses to your cheeks, his tongue slipping out to lick up the remaining drops of tears on your skin, leaving a watery red trail as it went. His licks turned to kisses once more as he pressed them fervently to your lips, giving you a taste of the iron of your blood, before pausing with an irritated sigh as he backed up from you. "Don't m-move them." He glared at you as he painfully squeezed your wrists, and you nodded quickly, wanting the pain to cease. He finally released you, but you obeyed, out of fear more than anything else, and with his extra hand he was quick to begin working his pants off, his mouth once more on yours, impatient moans leaving him as his body twitched above you. You had little time to react as his hands touched you once more, hoisting your legs up and revealing the vulnerable area between your thighs, his grip intentionally squeezing into the areas he'd bruised violently earlier that evening. He separated from your lips once more to appraise the area, a smile far too wide appearing on his face as he began to pump his cock, lining himself up at your entrance without any preparation.

"Toby, wait, please, you haven't-" Your words were halted by a cry tearing from your throat as he pushed inside of you anyway, a deep groan leaving his throat as the warmth of your body enveloped him. He narrowed his eyes at you once more, his hand grabbing yours, bringing it to his lips as he pressed delicate kisses to your wrists. Your heart was thudding in your chest, a whine already leaving your throat as you could feel what was coming. "W-what makes y-you think you d-deserve preparation?" It was chilling, how cold and cruel his voice could be, but before you could respond tears were leaking from your eyes once more as he teasingly nipped at your wrist, before plunging his teeth into the soft skin of it.

Your head tipped back with a scream and it caused him to moan in response, his cock throbbing inside of you as he began to move in and out of you in slow thrusts, his teeth pressing firmer and firmer into your wrist until he could taste your blood on his tongue once more. It was the same process, every single time he wanted to fuck you, every time he wanted to pleasure himself without a care in the world for if you wanted this or not. His tongue lapped eagerly at your bleeding wrist as he fucked into you, moans slipping out of him as easily as tears and cries were slipping out of you. You wanted to hurt him, to make him experience the same pain he'd make you experience every day, but the fear of what would happen if you tried, keeping your right arm held above your head as he continued to hold your left, the throbbing in your broken ankles a reminder not to cross him.

You tried your best to focus on the pleasure, to focus on his cock moving in and out of you instead of on his teeth trailing further up your arm, a trail of red smearing across your skin in a way he always described as divinely bewitching. Your cries alternating between moans from the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls to sobs from a particularly painful bite had Toby losing himself above you, his hips stuttering as he'd lose focus of his thrusting and slip above you. By the time he'd made it back to your throat your arm was beginning to go numb from the pain lacing through it, his mouth once again smeared with blood as he hovered above you, panting heavily as he rutted into you as if his life depended on it. His eyes roamed over your body, looking for purchase, looking for the next place he wanted to destroy with his teeth, and as they always did, his eyes landed on his favorite area of your body. He descended to press passionate kisses to your jaw, trailing them down your neck and licking and sucking, lavishing you with attention as your moans increased in volume. Despite his rough treatment, you could feel yourself drawing closer and closer to your end as he hammered into the spot that would always make your vision go white. You finally broke the rule of not moving your hands to wrap them around his back, gripping onto him for stability in a way that made him think you were enjoying this far more than you were.

"T-that's i-it! Keep enjoying y-yourself!" The excitement in his voice had chills running down your spine, but you couldn't argue back, preferring to surrender yourself to the pleasure fogging up your mind and making you forget who you were and where you were, making you forget who the monster doing this to you was. Your mind buzzed, your vision blurring from the mix of euphoria and blood loss, spacing out and dissociating as you surrendered your body to the man who lived solely to defile it. It was so beautiful, your spacey expression, the blood mixing across your skin, his head was reeling, doing his best to show you just how much he loved you. Causing all of this blood to spill out of you, licking it up and drowning in it, it made him feel so high, so positively intoxicated, presenting his love to you in the deep red color coating your skin. He was so giddy, so filled with absolute joy at the thought that maybe you were finally starting to love him again, that you'd no longer found him so unusual, that you were accepting that this was your life now, embracing it and treasuring it just as he did. Oh, it made him so happy! He felt as if he could explode from euphoria as his pace increased, animalistic grunts and groans roaring out of him as he did his best to try and make you feel as good as he did.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy, maybe not since the first time he'd done this to you. That fateful day all those years ago when he'd lured you here on the false promise of it being an adventurous date, only to lock you up in here forever, right where you belonged. To pin you down and bloody your body, to force himself on you in a way he'd been longing to for far too long, it had been the most exciting day of his life, defiling your body and showing you how much he loved you, the way he loved you. You were the only person whose blood he'd tasted, and it goes to show how much he loved you, that tasing your blood was in fact how he loved you. Drawing blood, your life force, out of you and indulging in it as if it were the finest meal in the entire world, what better way was there to express his unending devotion to you? He recentered himself from memory lane by licking your blood off of his teeth, his eyes rolling back into his head as he trembled above you. There was no better feeling than doing this, and knowing you were finally enjoying it as much as he did was driving him unquestionably insane.

You didn't know how much time had passed since you zoned out, floating above your body in the space between pleasure and unconsciousness, but you'd soon find yourself pulled back down to earth. As your orgasm slammed into you, you'd felt yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, not from pleasure, but from Toby sinking his teeth all the way into the side of your neck, squishing your flesh and causing blood to soak the bed beneath you as his impulses took over him, giddy laughter and moans vibrating from deep inside of him as he gorged himself on your blood and skin. You clawed and screamed and begged, but he wouldn't let go of you, not when he met his own climax right alongside you, not when he coughed and choked on the blood filling up his mouth, not when he slipped his tongue inside of your neck, slid it through the gaping holes his top and bottom teeth had left inside of you and had you crying out from pain and discomfort. It was revolting, it was disgusting, it was violating, it was quite possibly the worst thing he's ever made you feel, and yet it had been the very thing to trigger your orgasm and have you falling apart underneath him. Your cries shifted from pain to revulsion at your body for enjoying such a thing, and an incredibly dark thought focused in your mind, the realization that over the last few years, he'd been conditioning you, conditioning your body to accept this, to associate it with pleasure. His cock throbbed inside of you, throbbed like your arm, throbbed like your neck, and it felt good. You felt euphoric in a way you'd never felt before, and as he curled up beside you, as he pressed his lips to yours, as your blood coated the inside of your mouth as his tongue caressed yours, a horribly intrusive and repulsive thought you'd been promising yourself you'd never have filled your mind as you lost yourself to the darkness of blood loss. Were you falling in love with him again, in love with this monster, this horribly sick man? And, even worse…

Were you finally starting to enjoy it?

[crispxxxx]

How skz(ot8) would react to s/o reader having a bad day

(tw.None(?) Tell me if i need to add any)

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Bangchan-

He is the embodiment of the lyrics "the monsters gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here."

When he gets home and realizes that you've had a bad day he's instantly by your side giving you hug's and kisses, He won't force you to tell him anything unless he's scared that your not being safe.

If you wanted to talk about it he would sit there and listen for hours, But first he would ask if you wanted advice or you just wanted someone to talk to, because he will stfu and listen if you just want someone to talk to.

But if you didn't want to talk about it than he would give you two choices, Either he would cuddle you in silence or he would talk about something that happed in his day (something cute the boys did) Nothing Bad ofc so he wouldn't bring down your mood more

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Leeknow-

He's not very good with comforting with his words so he does it with his actions, When he see's you slumped on the couch with a tear stained face he made a bee-line to the bathroom and ran you a warm bath with bubbles.

When you both got in the bath he would brush/wash your hair before drying you off and helping you put on your favorite pjs and doing your skin care

than he would lay with you in bed and cuddling with you and ofc if you wanted to rant he would let you but if you didn't that's okay, He knows you well enough to know when he needs to push you to tell him what's wrong.

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Changbin-

The moment he got home and noticed your upset expression he would cuddle you like his life depend on it.

He would sit there and let you rant for hours And would text one of the boys to bring over some of your favorite snacks.

Would 10/10 not leave your side the next day, He would tell Chan that there was a problems and he couldn't make it in until further notice

you would have to force him to go back to work but ofc not without him throwing a fit

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Hyunjin-

He would sit there hugging you and crying with you, He believes that you two are soul mates so you must share the same feelings

when your sad he's sad, when your mad he's mad, when your happy he's happy.

Once both of you stopped crying he would ask if you wanted to talk about it,

If not he would just sit there and hold you until you either fell asleep or you wanted to do something else.

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Han-

Once he saw you were upset he would head to the kitchen and grab a tub of ice cream sit there and hold you while you eat it,

all he want's is his baby to feel better, he wouldn't start talking unless you told him it was okay.

if you want to tell him what's wrong he's all ears but if not he wouldn't push you, He wouldn't let you go unless you had to go to the bathroom other wise he's clinging onto you like his life depends on it.

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Felix-

he would wordlessly pick you up and put you on the counter. letting you rant as he made your favorite dessert and food,

once he was done he would run you a bath and just take care of you, with gentle touch's, kisses and sweet words,

he want's nothing more for you to be happy and would do anything for you just so he could see your smile return to your face.

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Seungmin-

Very much like Leeknow, he would wordlessly run you a bath and take care of you, he would wash your hair, style it, brush your teeth, do your skincare, get you changed in a new set of clothes and feed you and than once's that done he would hold you tight and sing you to sleep,

you cannot tell me that this man will not sing to you,

he would do anything for you, that even means singing a lullaby to you.

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I.N-

He would be so sweet,

the first thing he would do is grab a bunch of blankets and pillows and make a fort in the living room,

grab your favorite snacks and drinks and turns on your favorite show, he would hold you tightly until you fell asleep and if you weren't tired and didn't want to talk about yourselves he would rant about his day to distract you.

[they-call-me-emmy]

Memories - Tara Carpenter

I'm using da lyrics from 'Memories' by my angelic sweet angel face Conan Gray. I worship him. Thank you.

i dont even know how to classifiy this or whatever but lie eyhahh

yey.

It's been a couple months That's just about enough time For me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures

The Polaroids on your bed sheet. The small, scribbled dates in blue sharpie on the back. The way you genuinely looked happy in the photo. The way your own face looked back at you. The way her face looked back at you. It's been months. Get over it. That's what your friends tell you. What your family tells you. What you tell yourself.

Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while It's late, I hear the door Bell ringing and it's pouring

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision and causing the lights to disable it completely. You needed to put these pictures down. Throw them away, lock them up, anything. Anything to make you stop looking. The sad, sarcastic laugh escapes your throat and you feel weird the moment it comes out.

You jump as the doorbell rings. You don't know who it could be. Its raining outside, you can hardly see the streetlamps. Your wearing the same baggy, stained shirt you'd been wearing for the previous week and a half. It might have been hers, you honestly can't remember.

You stumble to the door, opening it and feeling your eyes widen.

I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance You just wanna talk and I can't turn away a wet dog

"Tara." You say, a slight twinge of coldness to your tone, although you were too shocked and hurt to muster up enough to shoot at her.

"Y/n." She said softly, the same tone as yours but the coldness replaced with what normally you would label as guilt. But Tara doesn't feel guilty....does she?

"Can I..." You clear your throat, willing yourself not to shout or cry or blame her for everything. It takes a lot of strength to not shut the door in her face, but you've always had a soft spot for her. "Can I help you?"

"I just...I just want to talk." She stares at her feet.

"Oh."

"Okay."

But please don't ruin this for me Please don't make it harder than it already is I'm trying to get over this

You can't have this girl ruining everything. Barging back in, to 'talk'. But you knew. You knew how much you wanted her back. But you're working for it. Working on getting over it. You're trying, you really are, but fuck. It might not be working. She's making this harder by coming here, bugging you. If she'd let you be, you'd forget about her, at some point.

Right?

I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized

You wanted to forget. Have it all gone. Burn those fucking photos. But she's here, and she's real, and she's talking about how sorry she is, how her life is a mess and she needs a place to stay. And you can't do it now, you couldn't do it before and certainly not when she's crying in your living room. But you needed to get over her. You were scared.

But you're not letting me do that, 'cause tonight You're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in the fetal position Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say

She's been drinking. The daze in her eyes and her wobbly movements and speech would show that to anyone. She's crying, telling you she left you for your own sake, that she didn't mean it and she was just having a hard time with life.

But now you were having a hard time. Because of her. And here she was, drunkenly crying to you. And here you were, letting her back in, for what? What're you getting out of this?

But you just can't turn her away.

"I wish that you would stay in my memories" In my memories, stay in my memories

"Tara, it's not right. You should leave. You're in my past. Go."

"G-God, please Y/n...d-don't k-kick me out-t." She sniffled, and her big brown eyes filled with more tears and suddenly you felt guilty, like kicking a bird from it's nest. But this wasn't her place. She didn't live here, you weren't with her. She had no right to stay.

But for some crazy reason you'd definitely regret in a day, you let her stay.

Now I can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night You see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning Over and over again

"Can I stay over?" She asked you softly, her eyes wide and you couldn't say no.

Why can't you ever say no?

You knew that you'd never leave her behind if she kept coming back, forcing her way back into your heart. You knew you'd never get over her when she's laying on you couch like she used to, eyes closed and a sweet, innocent aura surrounding her sleeping figure.

I promise that the ending always stays the same So there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again

You weren't ever going to go back to the way it was. She needs to stop trying. There's nothing in your favor. In your relationships favor. There's nothing that makes you two an important couple. You were just two people. You couldn't be with her anymore. That ship had sailed, and relationships never last through the second round.

I can't be your friend, can't be your lover Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love With somebody other than me

You couldn't be her friend, it's too much to bear. The knowledge that you'd been with her, felt her, held her and loved her was too much. And she knew that. You couldn't be her girlfriend again. That hadn't worked out the first round, why would you suffer to try to survive the second? But she can't feel a connection, no, because then, she'd be stuck pity filled and guilty, and she too, just like you, would never move on and never find love. But it can't be with you, and it will never be because god fucking dammit that didn't work out and you ruined your chance. She ruined your chance.

She ruined this for you, and there was no going back. There was no fixing what had been broken.

And for that, she deeply regretted.

I clearly cannot write sad stuff

please comment because those are my favorites <3

[fabiana-walles]

Emptiness Machine. This song is so special to me. Just the best reunion song you can imagine -- first we get the taste of Mike's solo singing and explore the feeling that something is missing, and then Emily's fire-driven vocals kick in to add more energy and color. "I only wanted to be part of something" is such a great lyric in the context of the song and whole situation, because it can be about how someone's dreams and feelings got exploited (by the emptiness machine) but also about a genuine wish to connect with others (the band, the fans) and with something greater.

Cut the Bridge. One of the songs that took time to grow on me for some reason. The chorus felt strange at first, but after a few listens I began to enjoy how everything works together. This song has great lyrics, too -- the meaning isn't particularly relatable to me, but the word/rhyme choices make it all sound really cool.

Heavy is the Crown. To me it's a loud, upbeat song to dance to, and very Linkin-Park-y for sure. There isn't much to say about this song, it just sounds very badass.

Over Each Other. To me it's one of the most emotional songs on the album -- Emily's vocal potential is used in a very right way, so you can hear some of the best qualities of her voice. The lyrics are my favorite mixture of simplicity and depth, even the title is a word play with both of its meanings present in the song.

Casualty. Such a fun song, I loved it immediately. Demonic Emily (you should definitely let her out and set her free) and Angry Mike (as he should be, it's only a matter of time) is a brilliant combination that hopefully will appear in more songs in the future. Talking about simplicity -- yes, the whole song is basically just screaming, but it's so cathartic that it becomes art.

Overflow. I think this song is the most beautiful on the album, a pure audio delight. And it's interesting that Overflow comes after Casualty, as both represent a perfect Mike-Emily duo, only from different sides of a spectrum, so to speak. The lyrics are so ambiguous that can be about everything and nothing, but my mind noticed a particular line -- "Ground is shakin' as it opens up to pull me in" -- that reminds me of Nothing Makes Sense Anymore, one of the darkest songs on Post Traumatic, and this thought kind of breaks my heart, but in a good way. And by this I mean that it's so fucking great to have new Linkin Park music in 2024; it's the best.

Two Faced. This song is somewhat similar to Heavy is the Crown in my mind -- it's loud, kinda badass, and has a messy dancing vibe to it. It took me some time and a few listens to fully appreciate it, but I still don't take it seriously, it still feels like some kind of parody of their Hybrid Theory era. Which isn't a bad thing, though.

Stained. This song didn't grow on me immediately, but when it did, it surely took a place in my heart. I love how Emily and Mike again make a great duo, creating a beautiful contrast with their voices and vocal techniques. I have a feeling that my relationship with this song is going to evolve even more in the future.

IGYEIH. The more I listen to this song, the more I like it. The vibe it gives me is something between Dead Sara and Linkin Park -- not like a mashup but like two worlds meeting. And the lyrics are so good, both in meaning and sounding. Again, like with Stained, I anticipate a longer future history.

Good Things Go. It's one of those songs that hit your heart effortlessly and just stay there, probably forever. I don't have anything else to say except it's my absolute favorite on the album.

_____________

To summarize: From Zero is a fantastic album. The more I listen to it, the more I like it. All the songs sound natural, having both familiar and new vibe to them. As someone said -- it's like going through the whole Linkin Park discography fit into ten songs.

My top-3 (in no particular order):

- Casualty

- Overflow

- Good Things Go

[not-poignant]

CAN YOU STOP MAKING ME CRY?

I started reading A Stain that Won't Dissolve yesterday and have been reading most of today and have cried for the fourth time now 😭 my goodness why must all your works hit me in the feels? First Eversion, then the Golden Age duology, then essentially most of the Underline the Rainbow, then the Nascent Diplomat (absolutely had me shattered)… like why (I mean I know why, but why?!)?

On another note, how do you choose titles for your works? I remember reading UtB was from a song I believe, but how about for AStWD?

And I am so genuinely happy you’re an angst with a happy ending type of writing, I feel like if you weren’t your readers would not only be shattered but then trampled into dust 😂🩵

Anon, alas, I cannot stop making some people cry, this is the pact I've signed with one of many devils to write my hurt/comfort alskjfdas that being said I've also signed a pact to make sure my angst is always followed by a happy or hopeful ending, because tragic endings I just cannot do!

As for story titles The Wind that Cuts the Night (song lyric from Radical Face), A Stain that Won't Dissolve is a lyric from a Manchester Orchestra song (Top Notch).

For folks who are curious what part of the song it's taken from, it goes like this:

It didn't really matter how it happened when it did, Cuz when it happened you reacted with an apathetic wince. So you try to flush it out, but that's a stain that won't dissolve. And we all believed in ghosts until you walked into the wall. So give up! So give up! So give up! All that I know is no way to fix it.

Which for me, really represented what Alex was going through where the stain is his love for Sebastian, being closeted, becoming an orphan, losing all his family etc. and basically starting at rock bottom.

For a while I actually tried to title all the chapter titles with Manchester Orchestra lyric excerpts and then kind of gave that up in the mid-30s lol.

Moooost (or close to most) of my fanfiction titles are from songs or song lyrics, Stuck on the Puzzle is as well.

Music's really deeply entangled in my existence (my main stim re: the autism is vocal stimming and sound stimming, and last year I listened to one song over 12,000 times). Making playlists for my characters, my stories, different moods, themes, atmospheres and sounds is something I feel compelled to do. And often entire stories have been inspired at least in part by a song I was listening to.

So yeah sometimes they end up as the titles and the chapter titles!

Outside of that I try not to overthink titles because they drive me up the wall. Like Passiflora and Palmarosa are both just plant names!

[finina-archives]

I Love You So

Your roommate finds you asleep on your desk.

[Modern AU!]

"Hey... Are you alright? You didn't come down for lunch today."

Your roommate knocked on your door, worry in his azure eyes present. The only response he received from you was pure humane silence, only the sound of a faint anguish filled song could be heard coming from your room.

"I'm coming in."

Gently opening your door, he was greeted with the sight of you soundly sleeping in front of your computer on your desk, pieces of damp tissue papers and traces of tears rolling down your face was evident.

He walked in and shut the door behind him gently, making sure not to wake you up. He then approached you and carefully lifted your sleeping form into his arms and laid you down on your bed before covering you with a blanket.

The boy looked at the screen of your computer, all he saw was the lyrics of a sad song that you were listening to. The same song that he heard playing from behind your door.

'I'm gonna pack my things and leave you behind.'

'This feeling's old and I know that I've made up my mind.'

'I hope you feel what I felt when you shattered my soul.'

'Cause you were cruel and I'm a fool.'

'So, please let me go.'

What was this song about again...? Oh right. The melancholic melody combined with such heartbreaking lyrics reminded him so much of a heartbreak.

Examining your desk, he saw the numerous pieces of tear stained tissue papers and some more tear stains on where you laid your arms and head on your desk.

It was obvious that you were crying, had it happened to you?

As far as he could remember, you had left the house a few hours ago to hang out with a so-called 'lover' of your's. And when you came back, you looked like a mess. Puffy eyes, messy hair and and you looked exhausted.

You were usually really cheerful, and being sad was something rare for you. And you would usually join him for lunch and dinner, but today you didn't. And that, was how he knew something was off, leading to him having to show up on the doorsteps of your room.

Just by hearing that song playing from your computer, he knew what had happened.

Turning off the song and your computer, he prepared to leave. But a bold thought had crossed his mind at that moment. He turned to look at you, soundly sleeping on your bed.

After what had happened today, it left you hurting and exhausted, and he knew that. Even though you didn't ask for it, he knew how badly you needed some comfort, some consolation. Some... Reminders that everything is gonna be okay soon. And that the pain you're experiencing now is only temporary.

Although you may not have known this, but ever since you moved in and you two started living together, he slowly developed feelings for you. But he was afraid that you wouldn't like him back, resulting in him hiding his feelings from you.

So just imagine how he felt when he found out that you were taken, and had a lover. He was happy for you, yes. But deep down, he felt like he lost his chance to be your's.

Lifting up the blanket, he slowly climbed into bed with you. He scooted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, allowing you to rest your head on his chest.

He felt sorry for what you've gone through. It was truly tough, he understands. But at the same time, he feels like this is a perfect time for him to take a step at winning your heart. He's determined this time, he was going to gain your love and affection to prevent you from getting your heart broken again.

Looking down at your sleeping form once more, he embraced you tighter and rested his chin on your head, keeping you warm. Whoever that broke your heart was a total jerk, they did not deserve you.

After all, he could treat you so much better.

[damsnackbar03]

super long 'random unfinished poetry and lyrics' dump because because

I try to romanticize writing.

But I just rhymed 'vomit' with 'comet', in a poem stashed in my dresser drawer.

There have been parts of my life that I didn't hate you. I was taught to.

When I'm doing the dishes, I make the water too hot on purpose.

It burns my hands,

And feels like a punishment.

And when cleaning knives, I trace my thumb along the sharp side of the blade.

Not hard enough to cut, but enough to remind myself that I could.

And you know I’m a wreck;

My brain’s a bingo hall,

Screaming “pick me” like I’m waiting for a call.

I’ll take self-deprecation with a side of despair,

While I scroll through old photos,

Thinking, “Was I even there?”

Can you hold me?

And I'll pretend I'm dreaming,

Because I've always been more lucid in my sleep.

There are mascara stains on her pillow case.

But she's busy tellin' me 'bout how your lips taste.

Snotty nose.

That's how it goes.

Obnoxious arguments behind doors that don't lock when they close.

It's like you're trying to put on a show.

If he'd just bow down to her.

And if she'd just, listen to him first.

Then things wouldn't have escalated.

Waiting for my name, and hoping they don't say it.

Cigarette burns on the sleeves of my jacket.

You use my name more than I do, I've let you have it.

So as she wipes her tears, I’ll be here every time,

With my heart on my sleeve, wishing she could be mine.

I can't help but think you look,

Crazy,

When you're yelling at me.

You've got,

Violent,

Tendencies.

Someone never figured out,

How to resolve issues without,

Having to shout.

Patience is a virtue.

Clearly it evaded you.

Some people should never be parents.

You've got opinions,

And I don't want you to share them.

You're claiming I don't care.

Well, I don't.

But assumptions aren't fair.

That's never stopped you,

And I know it won't.

And while you're screaming,

I can't help but wish you'd choke.

If I think hard enough,

Do you think I could turn invisible?

A face that doesn't exist surely wouldn't be as hittable.

Repeating insults like you think that it'll help.

But I'm just trying not to tell you to go to hell.

If I fought back do you think I'd get away with saying I was defending myself?

I can't help but think you look,

Crazy,

When you're yelling at me.

You've got,

Violent,

Tendencies.

Someone never figured out,

How to resolve issues without,

Having to shout.

Patience is a virtue.

Clearly it evaded you.

You think me fearing you gives you a god complex.

But when a horse gets too high one usually loses their head.

I wish I could record everything you've said,

And play it back while you play dead.

I can't help but think you look,

Crazy,

When you're yelling at me.

Why am I here?

Please give me a reason,

Make it clear.

I need specific instructions.

Do I have to fail to learn my lessons?

Can't things just be easy for a while?

Even if we won't be together in the end,

I'm glad we were together in my head.

Stomped my brain into mush beneath hard soled shoes, dancing to a forgotten tune.

Lyrics practiced, but never written down.

If you let me go, I'm scared I'll drown.

I'll tell you I'm bad at commitment.

So that I'll feel like I'm winning,

By doing the bare minimum.

And I'll ask her to be my friend,

Even though I tend,

To fall in love with all of them.

I'm, standing here, at five am.

Making faces, and flipping the bird to my reflection.

Saying, 'please stranger', change for the better.

Go down a size so that we'll fit in that, blue sweater.

I don't, mean to be mean.

I'm sure someone out there, thinks you're pretty.

But it's not me.

[grizzlyofthesea]

Fun with a New Pen

I got a ten-color pen over the weekend, and I've loved using it so far. I wanted to show it off a bit, and I had an idea today.

I've been obsessing over mothy's Seven Deadly Sins series of Vocaloid songs, so I decided to draw all the sinners today.

Duke Cherubim "Sateriasis" Venomania

I want his outfit. Give me his outfit. Let me be fancy like him.

His song is catchy as all heck and is one of my favorites of the whole series (especially ryusouta's cover, holy crap it's good). Weird for a repulsed aroace, I know, but it is what it is.

Super sad backstory that I can relate to in some ways. I wasn't locked in a basement for all my childhood or anything, but I was teased for my appearance quite a bit, even by some of my loved ones.

He can fly???

Banica Conchita

Gorgeous design

Has awesome powers

Ate herself just to save her child and became the new demon of gluttony in the process. That's metal as all heck.

Her song has an awesome instrumental, and the lyrics are nice and subtly horrifying.

Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche

Needed her own page because of how stupid frilly her dress is

Seriously, we get it. You're royalty. But make yourself easier to draw.

Least favorite song in the series, but I don't hate it. I love ryusouta's cover of the Velvet Mix, though.

Another super sad story, especially with Servant of Evil for extra context. Who could've guessed? Poor Kagamines can't catch a break.

Margarita Blankenheim

I used to hate her song for some reason, but I love it now. Both the melody and the instrumental are gorgeous.

Didn't deserve such a crappy husband

She has a special gift for you.

Actually a doll possessed by Eve Moonlit for some reason? What even is this series??? (Even though I love it dearly)

Kayo Sudou

Scariest song in my opinion. It may go on a bit longer than I'd like, but the way the story builds is terrifying.

Color-changing scissors that totally aren't stained with blood

Was kind of doomed from the start since her mom was the demon of envy. I'll give her credit for trying, though.

Very talented tailor, for what it's worth

Gallerian Marlon

👌

Another song with an awesome instrumental. The key changes make me feel extra evil when I listen to it. And the gavels. Oh my gosh, the gavels.

Poor dude went crazy over a spoon.

We all know he's Nemesis' dad, but they're also half-siblings? And neither of them had any idea?? What the actual heck, Ma--???

Nemesis Sudou

Also has one of my favorite songs (no, I'm totally not biased toward the Internet Co. Vocaloids, what are you talking about--). It's super dramatic and bold, and the key change at the end really gives it--and the whole series--a sense of finality.

Didn't even want a contract with the demon of wrath, but hey, she got a cool pet octopus out of it.

Her backstory hits me right in the feels. Seriously, being ordered by your estranged father to kill your lover--and not even having any idea that he's your father until after the fact? Ouch.

Becoming a dictator may have been a bit much, though

And the moral of the story is: listen to ryusouta's covers of these songs. (No, but seriously, they're awesome.) And the Evillious Chronicles is a crazy series, but the Vocaloid fandom wouldn't be the same without it.

[jargyles]

jeddie - the one where they don't break up

j&e have an epic summer of love and can't wait to finish highschool together (au where the byers don't move to cali. yet), but jonathan's insecurities get in the way of their outness. they don't break up about it. | ship: jonathan byers/eddie munson | bg characters: will byers (mentioned), wayne munson (mentioned) | words: ~3.4k | warnings: mentions of drinking, recreational drug use, references past alcoholism, internalized homophobia, period-typical attitudes around queerness, jonathan-typical relationship problems. lotsa angst

summer happened.

jonathan and eddie kissed for the first time, a whip of teeth and tongue that left jonathan hopped up on a new strand of endorphins and eddie- well, the same, but back then- newly obsessed with his club member's brother. jonathan hadn't anticipated them kissing more after that, chalking it up to some hazy frolic into dying grass, a firework that left a smell. he figured that would be the case especially when the fourth of july came and eddie kissed him again, and a handful of times between then and their first kiss, and another handful of times after that.

jonathan didn't think anything of it; having eddie around, getting high, going to shows and kissing in the dark, getting drunk, kissing after long walks home, all of it seemed like something that fit into eddie's idea of "a summer you'll never forget, byers". he didn't think anything about the way eddie looked, or spoke, or played guitar, or even held him in between moments they weren't doing anything. he didn't think about any of that, but… there was something. something that drove them to where they are now, something that made jonathan fully aware of what they meant to each other, even if it took a while.

it'd be the way eddie beamed at him every time they met, thin lips brandishing wide smiles and folding into the slight chub of his cheeks. it'd be the way jonathan didn't understand what it meant to feel empty when he didn't see him smiling. it'd be the way his hair would fall in stringy curls in front of his big brown eyes during a show, or after, or before, when they'd spent a good thirty minutes trying to wrestle a blunt they were sharing away from one another. the way his eyes would linger on the bend of eddie's knuckles underneath his silver rings. sometimes it'd be his scent, his laugh, even his touch- but really it'd be the lack of it all that drove jonathan to places he never thought he'd park at. especially with eddie munson.

neither one of them expected the other to say 'i love you', but they both did, and they were both shocked and didn't know what would come after that, but then they just kind of dealt with it. they would kiss, and get high, and go to shows, and hold each other, and spend days with jonathan's family and wayne, or the party, or the rest of eddie's band, and they would smile and say 'i love you' somewhere in between all that. they didn't even question it, and after about two months or so, they just accepted it. they were dating. boyfriends, even.

summer happened and the rest of their relationship became interwoven with trips to scoops and reading comic books in the woods and making out while listening to queen, a middle ground. the theatrics and vibrato were for eddie, and the music, the lyrics, and the familiarity of it all were for jonathan. lyrics became dates of the week, and theatrics became sweat-stained t-shirts under fizzling leds. they were trapped there for a while.

eddie had to repeat his senior year (again), and jonathan was starting his. both of these milestones, so to speak, took place after summer, and they hadn't thought about that.

jonathan was mostly excited for will; getting to drive to school together, showing him where his classes were, helping him with extracurriculars and homework, not even thinking for a second that his little brother would be attending the same school as his boyfriend. eddie didn't think about that either; he was stoked to have his byers and his mini byers with him, rambling on about how 'awesome' hellfire campaigns would be, how they'd drive him to the hideout- to which jonathan immediately shot that down- and how will's freshman year would be his favorite year because 'me and big byers are gonna make you never forget it, kid' and that's all the two of them cared about, really.

they didn't think about what would happen after they showed up at school together.

will decided that he'd rather walk with the rest of his friends to school that day, and have a proper meet-up-and-recap before they all settled into new classes and opportunities, so jonathan and eddie rode to school together. in eddie's van.

the thing they don't tell most people about having a boyfriend in hawkins is that most people in hawkins who have boyfriends are girls, and most boys who date have girlfriends, and so little couple-y things like showing up to school in the same van and fixing each other's jackets would earn strange and unsettling looks from fellow student passersby. things like that, when done without a girl present or involved in the straightening or light dusting of jackets, often got someone spat on or shoved into a toilet or trash can or locker of some kind, accompanied with a brand new word for "gay" written in permanent marker somewhere on your exposed skin for everyone to see.

they have the same first period, but they don't walk to class together.

they have the same last period too, but eddie can't wait that long.

during lunch, when jonathan is washing his hands before making the trek to the parking lot to eat alone in his car, a handful of boys enter and exit their respective stalls. most of them ignore him (thankfully) and the ones that don't just stare, and it could be due to his brother- the zombie- attending school with him now, it could be the way some people definitely saw him exit the same van as eddie munson, and it could be the way it's taking him so long to raise his hands above the sink to dry them off. all in all, they're still staring. there's a rolodex of reasons to stare at jonathan byers, and none of them are good, and all of them make sense, to a certain degree.

at least jonathan can wash his hands about it. he's getting better at moving his arms past his elbows, and he's grateful for being able to wash his hands under five minutes, even if his fingers still jitter or the water feels like- something he's bound to wash away again, maybe, if he isn't careful about eddie. about will. at least he can look forward to walking by eddie's table with the rest of the hellfire club as he makes his way into peaceful (albeit, regretful) solitude. maybe eddie will shoot him a wink mid speech, or smile at him and act like he's smiling at someone else during one of his elaborate public disruptions.

instead, jonathan hears a loud, swinging screech and flinches, his arms tensing up down to the laddering of his spine, and his first instinct is to reach for something but instead he just ducks his head down and mutters an apology, as if he was the one barging in on an innocent sink-dweller. instead of barking back at him, or spitting a venom-slick synonym for 'queer' and shoving him into the nearest stall, the interrupter pulls him in for a tight hug. it startles jonathan, until he realizes the only person to hug him by lifting him a foot above the ground is-

"can't fucking do this-" and eddie’s wrapping constrictor-tight arms around him one moment, then pushing the two of them into the nearest stall the next, and holding him by the face with both hands to kiss him right after that, "can't fucking do this, byers- i can't-"

"hey, listen-" jonathan melts, and couldn't think of a way to reciprocate eddie's intensity if he tried, becoming fully swept up in words stitched in between layers of kissing, "listen, eds-"

eddie stops, because he knows when to stop, when jonathan feels like it's becoming too much, too much acting and not enough savoring, or too much closeness when he needs air. jonathan expected eddie to ramble himself into a corner, or have a smile cutting its way across his mouth, something familiar to soothe his yearning. what jonathan doesn't expect is eddie looking back at him with eyes so wet, so red, that it looks like he'd been punched everywhere but south from the time he swung that door open to the first kiss he planted on jonathan's face.

"do you- do you know?" eddie's hand is on the spot next to jonathan's head. he's practically hunched over, his lips scrunched into a frown. "do you know how hard it is to act like i don't fuckin' miss you like crazy?"

"i know, hey, i know-" and jonathan is cradling eddie's head in his shoulder like he did during the summer, when they'd open up about things like this, that left them hoveling and wrecked for hours on end. he smooths over his stringy mass of hair, pushing it out of his face while eddie tried to replace the air in his lungs with whatever jonathan had going on at the top of his neck.

"i can't fucking do this." he snaps, his voice as wet as his eyes when he yanks himself from underneath jonathan's hold.

"i know." jonathan is prepared for the worst; he's ready to kiss eddie one last time in that stall and walk out with a wrinkled shirt that's bound to turn heads. he figures it's the end of summer and eddie has a breakable heart, and it must break his heart to not be around jonathan like how he used to, so jonathan figures it's time. he sighs, putting on a brave, stoic face while giving eddie a firm squeeze on his shoulder.

eddie isn't having any of it.

"i can't fucking live like this, byers." eddie says it- live- in a way that jonathan would've easily missed had he been focused on the mess of teeth and tongue sliding its way up and down his neck, dancing just above his collarbone.

it weighs on him, the idea of eddie not being able to live without him, or the idea of eddie not being able to live without being with him, whichever idea made the most sense. jonathan knows this is nonsensical, from every angle, because eddie doesn't mean that, and jonathan shouldn't just assume things out of people he dates for a month or two, or three, or… however long it's been since their first kiss. just because eddie kissed him back then the exact same way he's kissing him now- sporadic movements and bumps of teeth, both of their skin clammy and sundried at the same time- doesn't mean they should exist in a world where hawkins isn't hawkins. it's hard for him to imagine it, a world where he and eddie could step out of the same van or even hold hands in the halls, and if he tries hard enough he can convince himself that that isn't actually what he wanted from all this, no way, no how. it's hard to convince himself of that when eddie is taking his zipper down.

"eddie, wait-" he manages to cough out, having had every cognitive thought kissed right out of him, and his featherlight wrist tries to pick at eddie's heavily accessorized one. "really, wait. c'mon, eds- we gotta- gotta talk this out, okay? talk."

eddie exhales, long and heavy through his nose, with a pleased chuckle rumbling somewhere underneath all that. jonathan is relieved, even if eddie starts pressing quiet kisses up his neck again, at least jonathan knows he's listening.

"i missed you too." jonathan leans into it, resting his palm on eddie's cheek. he does miss him, even now, but he won't say it. eddie doesn't have to know that this is hard for him too, that he wants to be doing this- kissing, no judgemental eyes or poisonous words- out in the open, with all their peers, with everyone and anyone who could see.

eddie makes a noise, disgruntled, perished, wrecked inside, and he’s pressing the flesh of his cheek into jonathan's hand, nuzzling him with a ferocity that shouldn't be described as a "nuzzle". his arms come around jonathan's waist, tight, like he's protesting the bulldozing of the place that doesn't card for cigarettes, or trying to break him in half.

"i'm serious, eds," jonathan hears himself break, for a second, in a voice crack that borders on a wheeze, "i missed you. a lot."

"yeah, no, i- i know." eddie closes his leaking eyes tight, breathing him in again. "which is why i- i can't. i can't not be with you, or around you, or act like i don't even… like we don't even… know each other? does that make sense? i don't- i don't know what i'm saying here, jonny. something in there might make sense-"

"eddie." jonathan scoffs with endearment, then his heart sinks when he thinks about not getting to hear his boyfriend ramble anymore. "i know what you mean."

they pause, silence wrapping around them like a wool blanket. they're just limbs at this point; eddie's lips still wandering aimlessly on however much skin he could find on jonathan's neck, jonathan's head curled towards him, both of their arms folded around each other as they breathed, speaking in bumps of noses and sighs of gratitude.

"we just have to be careful, okay?" jonathan is the first to pull them back to reality, as unwilling as he was. "just for the year, yeah? so people don't think… y’know."

"god," eddie groans, his forehead thumping against the wall behind them, and he chuckles again, until it bleeds into a whine. "since when do we care about what people think? since when did we have to start acting like fucking…" both of them know what that silence means, and both of them knew how to not get caught over the summer, except for when they didn't, "ugh! this fucking sucks. this sucks, byers. why do we have to pretend that we're-"

"we won't be pretending," jonathan's face feels blank, and he tightens his fingers around eddie's bicep, "we'd still be together, just… we won't tell anyone. not because of what they'll say, but because it isn't their business."

there were a lot of things jonathan was scared of, and a lot of reasons to be scared of them. for a long time, he was scared of having to hurt someone he loved, and he was prepared for the inevitability of it happening, because ever since will first went missing, he knew he'd shut himself off more. what he wasn't prepared for, in the event of letting down a person he loved, was for that person to be eddie. he especially, never in his life, would've thought to prepare for the look on eddie's face after he said that.

eddie backs off completely, unashamed tears fully streaming down his face, his hands forgetting jonathan's zipper entirely, latching onto his shoulders like jonathan would go missing without them being wound together. he shrugs, and then his head is down and jonathan hears the starts to a lot of sentences that never get finished, or even have a first word to begin with. his hands tremble, his ring-clad fingers digging dent marks into jonathan's bare ones. he sniffles, hard, and it breaks jonathan's heart right down the middle.

he knows he should say something. he knows he should pull eddie closer, tell him he didn't mean it, that they'll just float through their senior year together and it'll be a breeze, or the best year of will's life, or whatever else eddie said, but he can't. he can't bring himself to do anything when he knows that lunch period will be over soon, and someone might see them leave this stall together and assume the worst- the truth- and make their lives a living hell. eddie doesn't deserve that. he should be able to graduate in one piece without jonathan dragging him down.

"i didn't know you were-" eddie is the first to speak, because jonathan is busy holding in his own tears at seeing him like this, "i didn't think you still cared about this stuff, y'know?" he squeezes jonathan's hands in his palms, "other people seeing us, whatever, all that shit. i didn't know it mattered so much to you."

"it doesn't." jonathan's lips crinkle into a frown. eddie didn't know what he was talking about.

"yeah?" eddie meets his eyes, and they're worse than jonathan could've imagined them being. his face is flushed, and his lips are red from having kissed jonathan so much, and his mouth twitches as it opens and closes, words dying off his tongue before he could form them. "because you really seem to give a shit about being seen with me, or even fucking knowing me, actually, so what gives? what changed with you, byers? what made you make up this- this fucking game plan on how we're supposed to act now, huh?"

"nothing." jonathan's voice is tight, and his fingers feel small and dry in eddie's hands.

"bullshit." eddie's grip is more firm, more secure, but still soft. his eyes scan jonathan's face, and his eyebrows have that arch in them that jonathan had only seen when he was learning a new song on guitar. he used to admire it, found it cute, but now it terrifies him. "what, are you, like… embarrassed of me? ashamed or- or something?"

"that's not-" jonathan feels a single tear fall, and he realizes he might've been holding in a breath this entire time. he knew how eddie worked; all it took was one missed idea, or misconstrued thought, and eddie would be in his dark hole of self pity once again, and they'd done so well with his progressing sobriety over the summer that jonathan doesn't want to see what'll happen when eddie gets down there again. “i’m not.”

"you don't like me anymore, then?" that crack in his voice- jonathan hates it- makes eddie sound like a rejected kid, and even he starts to shake his head at how ridiculous it might sound. "are we not, like, clicking like we used to? is it someone else?"

"eddie-" jonathan knows he's helpless to stop this spiral, and he starts his own series of unfinished sentences that come out as shortenings of breath and hollow grunts.

"did i do something?" eddie has his shoulders fully slumped now. "i know i'm not, like, the best boyfriend in the world or anything, but, you- you gotta tell me if i mess up, y’know? so we can-"

the bell rings. jonathan swore he wouldn't miss lunch, swore to himself he wouldn't make a scene on the first day back, for everyone's sake, and here they were. eddie is stood frozen in front of him, his body solid in it's hunched stance while his eyes bug out, racing around every corner of their shared space. when jonathan snaps his fingers in front of his face, eddie heaves, his posture loosening almost instantly.

"go." jonathan wishes he didn't sound so quick to get eddie to leave, but he has to get them apart before people see, and eddie still isn't getting the picture. he grabs him by the arm, and the way eddie won't even look at him is blunt enough to crack a bone. "you have go, eds, right now, or-"

"yeah." eddie snatches his arm away, sniffs hard as he wipes his face with one hand, and pushes the stall door open to properly storm out. "already ahead of you."

jonathan watches him leave, knowing (or at least assuming to know) that they'll talk later, and that they both need to get a grip before shit gets heavier than it needs to be. it'd have to be at his trailer after school, without will tagging along or, hopefully, without wayne to mistakenly wander in on their conversation. jonathan would have to think, long and hard, about what that talk would even mean for them. worst case scenario, they break up and hate each other for the rest of their lives.

jonathan can't think of another scenario.

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Being Funny in a Foreign Language' - The 1975

Is it time to complain about another 1975 album already?  

With moody album art and a piano-laden opening track, you’d be under the impression that Being Funny in a Foreign Language was marking a shift towards more dramatic fare or that it expands on the bloated self-indulgence of Notes on a Conditional Form and 2020’s A Brief Enquiry into Online Relationships. But instead, we get a general rehash of the glossy 80s sophistipop of earlier eras. 

The glassy pop funk of ‘Happiness’ recalls the bubbly California vibes of ‘Girls’ and ‘She’s American.’ The sweeping lounge jazz of ‘All I Need is You’ is eerily reminiscent of ‘If I Believe You.’ ‘When We Are Together’ has an earnest country-folk bent similar to ‘The Birthday Party,’ while ‘Oh Caroline’ echoes the shimmering coastal pop of ‘Settle Down’ off the band’s 2013 debut (one of their best tracks). Even the sax solos return with a vengeance, to the point of distraction. 

The second half of Being Funny in a Foreign Language feels particularly gloopy and saccharine.  

‘'Cause I don't need music in my ears/I don't need the crowds and the cheers/Oh, just tell me you love me/'Cause that's all that I need to hear,’ Healy cries on ‘All I Need to Hear,’ sitting alone in his kitchen utterly bereft with no food in the fridge. On ‘About You,’ he muses like a lovesick schoolboy, ‘I know a place/It's somewhere I go when I need to remember your face/We get married in our heads/Something to do while we try to recall how we met.’ ‘Wintering’ is destined to soundtrack a Netflix Christmas original, mark my words. Healy even manages to out-Healy himself with lines like: ‘Alex is a sculptor and Olivia’s been a vegan since 10/Vin wears dresses whilst Debbie coalesces in a fleece that doesn’t work.’ 

Parklife? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Sometimes the lyrics are just downright lazy. Healy even admits as such (‘I’ve tried to find another name a thousand times/But the only one that rhymes is ‘Oh Caroline’). 

‘I’m in Love with You,’ meanwhile, is cloying with its jangling guitars, ear-bleeding chorus and copious amount of shimmer (Dear God, this record has so much fucking shimmer). It’s doesn’t even sound particularly romantic: Healy appears dismissive at times to now-ex girlfriend FKA twigs, especially when it comes to some ‘black girl thing’ she’s doing. 

I get that he ends up apologising to her. But why put it in in the first place? I’ve said it time and time again, but if it was any other male artist, they would’ve been cancelled into oblivion for such a line, especially in this current climate. Even Harry would’ve copped a lot of shit, but he’d don a sparkly hat or something, and all would be forgiven. Healy, for some reason, always seems to survive the scrutiny, no matter how loud it gets online. Why is he so special?? 

Though he does reminisce with a girlfriend on final track ‘When We Were Together’ about the time they were both cancelled on the same day – him for being a ‘racist’ and her for being a ‘slag.’ But all Healy probably got was an angry Reddit thread and a few hundred tweets, so I’m sure he got off easy in the end... 

He also admits to gaslighting her (‘I didn't know that it had its own word’). Again, if it were anyone else, blah blah blah, is anyone even listening at this point? 

First single, ‘Part of the Band’ fulfils the Healy pseudo-intellectual nonsense quota, even if it is just a weak facsimile of their other zeitgeisty tracks like ‘PEOPLE’ and ‘Love It If We Made It.’ Earnest strums and disjointed orchestral tones provide a backdrop to the singer’s self-indulgent musings, cramming in every political talking point of the past couple of years in some vain attempt to provoke:  

‘I know some vaccinista tote bag chic baristas  Sitting in east on their communista keisters  Writing about their ejaculations  “I like my men like I like my coffee  Full of soy milk and so sweet, it won’t offend anybody”  Whilst staining the pages of The Nation.’ 

It’s total parody at this point. And yes, Stereogum, I am doing the jackoff motion with my hand. 

Then there’s ‘(Looking for) Somebody to Love,’ giving an incel school shooter fantasy a bouncy John Hughes-esque soundtrack. I’m not averse to deceptively poppy songs dealing with dark subject matter, but it’s got nothing on the eerie apathy of ‘Pumped Up Kicks.’  

When ‘Part of the Band’ was released last July, it seemed to confirm to even some of their most ardent fans that The 1975 aren’t quite as fascinating as we’ve been led us to believe over the years, and Being Funny in a Foreign Language only further proves it. Healy, as usual, is more preoccupied with buzzwords, cliches, and getting a rise out of people than putting any real emotional weight onto his words, while the production is strangely flat and tinny. Not even having Grammy Producer of the Year Jack Antonoff on board seems to make much of a difference. 

Being Funny in a Foreign Language was seemingly received with rather little fanfare. Singles came and went without a trace. Even four months on from its release, there’s more news devoted to Healy’s controversies than to the album itself. 

At least Notes on a Conditional Form had a bit of ambition and some variety (as messy as it was), along with a totally undeserved air of self-importance. But this? This... is just another 1975 record.  

And that’s the worst thing a 1975 record can possibly be: Boring. Even after (mostly) rejecting computers in favour of jam sessions, all they could manage to produce a bunch of mostly forgettable mid-tempo songs that sound a lot like their older ones. In the space of just a couple of years, the band has gone from pompous pop provocateurs to just plain dull.  

Like, what the fuck am I supposed to make fun of now?? 

- Bianca B. 

[justasimp1]

Thomas Hewitt/Leatherface x F! Reader

Ramble♡♡

My Jersey

You had seen him before–the brooding, thick shoulder, loose black curls, mystery face man. He made you curious, oddly warm, and bold–10x bolder.

"I think I left something" You tried to put on the most convincing tone towards your brother. He shrugged, shoving a cigarette in-between his lips. Smoke swirled into the air, mixing in with the pungent fumes from the factor.

"If you take forever, I'm leaving" He twirled the car keys in the air, walking to the car. You rushed back towards the doors, mud spreading underneath the hill of your boot. The doors let out a long groan, making the humid factor all the more eerie.

You walked past big greasy tubes, large freezers packed with various types of animal meat, and cupboards lined with dripping bloody knives. You made a beeline to a space in the factor, the sound of chopping bouncing off the walls.

Your hips buckled at the sight, his muscles flexing, sweat glistening on his exposed hands. His thick fingers smeared the leaking blood around the table. Oil and grime were disgusting but on him, it was all the more attractive.

"Excuse me," It was now or never...

His body went rigid, like the sound of your voice was a song you hadn't listened to in forever, and you doubted your ability to remember all the lyrics. He continued, moving his arm, the blade of the machete tearing down into the slab of meat.

You closed your eyes, bathing in the embarrassing silence. You didn't realize how much your feet were itching to take several steps back. "Sorry," You gulped, your hands fiddling with the fabric of your clothing. You looked up at the dull yellow lighting, hoping the rays would dry the wetness coating your lens.

"What?" It was barely soft and came out like a murmur. The space between your eyebrows crinkled, and you looked at the man's back. His movements slowed the weight of the knife releasing from his grip.

You smiled, replaying the small clip of his voice again. You giggled and twirled inside, your heart exploding with childish emotions. However, it was short-lived because fuck...you hadn't planned what to say if he responded.

You stammered over your words, making weird gestures with your hands. "Hi, I'm Y/N. My brother works here. So, one day I was looking for him but found you. And I asked around for your name—some people can be mean so I stopped but then I asked my brother. But he was curious and wouldn't tell me anything until I gave him a reason to and I couldn't tell him I wanted to get to know a cute guy..." You drifted off, listening to the silence that replaced your rambling.

He didn't say anything. The chopping reverberated once again. He didn't even tense or spare you a glance. The unresponsive long seconds sent you an obvious rejection.

"Sorry, I should leave" Your heart fell. You took a few steps back, hoping the walls could squeeze your figure, hiding you from any civilization. Your mind is filled with diseased thoughts. 'What if he thought I was weird? He's not talking for a reason, he thinks I'm disgusting, my voice sounds raspy'

You were sprinting at this point, your throat clenching for fresh air. "Fuck" You groaned, looking around, all the walls looked the same. You kicked the nearest beer bottle, sending it across the floor, the sound made you flinch.

Your fingers arched at your scalp, pathetic wetness blurring your vision. There were so many thoughts fleeting and stacking. You regretted stepping back into the building, your brother probably stranded you here, you embarrassed yourself greatly, and missed your last chance of finding a guy you liked.

Your brain started to pulse, an instant headache forming from the stomach-churning feeling. You rubbed your eyes, removing the tears staining your waterline. You slowly moved out of the humid room, retracing your steps, navigating to the entrance.

Your heart was too intertwined with your thoughts and your eyes were too focused on the ground. You didn't realize the mumbled—no grumble and stiff body blocking your way. You paused, your heart swirling around, burying itself into the ground.

You saw the light seeping in from the entrance behind his torso. He was tall in front of you, his body emitting a metallic smell. You studied his mask, the tuff material looping around his mouth. His lips were visible, they were parted but nothing came out.

You imagined a scenario where your hands could caress his face, lips grazing each other, foreheads bumping together. A rhythmic honk came from outside. "I have to go, my brother is waiting" You squirmed passed him, the words came out weakly.

His hand grabbed your arm, his palm gulped your limp. His grip was tight, a red irritation mark showing. You looked down at your feet, hesitant to make eye contact. He placed a crumpled parchment in your hand before walking off.

You turned around, rushing outside. Cold air filled your lungs, you let out a sasitified sigh. Running to your brother's car that was still beeping. You slowed down, to open your palm. The paper was oily and has a few specks of dirt on it.

You undid the many creases, stretching out the paper. "Thomas Hewitt..." You whispered to yourself, re-reading the paper again and analyzing each letter to make sure you read it right. You felt foolish for stopping dead in your tracks and slightly jumping up and down.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Your brother yelled, laying down on the horn again. So many questions and emotions were flying through your mind. You skipped over to the car, your eyes smashed against the words. You examined his handwriting and the small swirl on his last name.

Your brother moved the stick into a new gear. You leaned back in your seat, tracing over the words. "Tell me about Thomas Hewitt"

Masterlist

[babyboyxiao]

hi! could you do an aged up yatora yaguchi smut? i don’t have anything else specifically just stay true to his character. this is my first time requesting so sorry if i’m doing anything wrong!

thanks!!!

Yellow is the Colour of His Eyes | Yaguchi Yatora x Reader

AN: thank you so much for the request, i'm sorry this took so long! you're absolutely perfect and i'm so excited for my first Blue Period request! i really tried hard to write him in character but idek anymore, it's been a fat while since i last read bp tbh, and idek what that ending was i got hella tired at the end of writing this but i just hope you enjoy it,, i ended up really leaning into the idea of the reader being a fellow student so there's actually quite a bit of plot so i hope that's okay too,, i was also listening to soccer mommy's song of the same-ish name technically it's "her eyes" while writing this and, while the lyrics don't quite line up, i'd recommend listening to it while reading this bc idk it just fits for me :)

Summary: during a rough night pouring yourself into your final assignment of your second year at Geidai, Yatora finds you decrepit in your studio area. the weight of the mistakes in your work weighs heavy on your shoulders and you find yourself unable to hold back your feelings any longer.

CW: smut, nsfw (minors dni!), friends to lovers, angst with a bit of fluff, unprotected sex, gn! reader

As the end of the semester drew near, you found yourself gradually spending more and more time holed up in your studio working on your final assignment. Your hands stained with ink, paint caked underneath your chipped fingernails, and your eyes swelled with a lackluster enthusiasm as you stared at the canvas before you. It was completed, ready for submission and you were elated that you could finally call it a night... but then you spotted it, a dark smudge on the right edge of the canvas. No doubt it was made by your grimy hands as you'd absent-mindedly gripped the canvas while painting. It wasn't just there either, suddenly every imperfection stood out like a sore thumb and you groaned, tears threatening to spill over as you buried your face into your hands. You just sat there, shoulders slumped as you prepared yourself for another couple of hours of fixing all those blemishes. A gentle knock echoed from the door, platinum blonde wisps of hair peeking out between the frame and the door.

"Thought I'd find you here," Yatora huffed, "I've been calling you, y'know?" You didn't dare look at him, you didn't want one of your closest friends to see you in such a state.

"Oh, sorry... my phone's in my bag." You dejectedly reply. You heard the rustle of a plastic bag, then some rattling, and his footsteps drawing near. You furrowed your brows, you really weren't in the mood for this.

"It looks amazing, just a couple more touches here and there and you're almost done. I got you a couple of things to keep you going-" Yatora's rambling was cut short by the shrill screech of your stool. Keeping your head down, you marched over to him and began dragging him back towards the door.

"Yeah, thanks, really. Can you please leave now?" Your voice shook with every word, your fingers trembling as they gripped his biceps and legs wobbling with every step. The tremors in your voice sparking concern, Yatora spun around and clutched your shoulder, peering down to get a look at your face.

"Fuck, you don't look so good. Just- let's get some air, okay? I brought some snacks, you look like you're about to keel over." Yatora huffs, bringing an arm around your shoulder to lead your tired figure outside. You can't it back any longer, your frustration and exhaustion boiling over. You push his arm away, stumbling back towards your canvas. You know you're being dramatic but you can't waste any more time, and you know that if you went with him, you wouldn't want to leave.

"I can't! I have to finish this and, unlike you, I just- I can't work like you do! Constantly working, improving, like you know what you need to get better at a-and you just do it! It's like time doesn't slip away from you like it does for me, I just-" and then it hits you. You're knees crash into the vinyl beneath you, the air is abrasive in your lungs, probably from all the turpentine fumes, the dry skin of your hands absorbing your tears as they fall. The boy is stunned, his feet rigid but, in his stupor, he manages to walk towards you. Squatting beside you, he hesitantly places a hand on your head, ruffling your disheveled hair.

"Is that how you think of me?" he sighs, your outburst simultaneously empowered him yet pierced him. On one hand, the fact that someone like you saw how much he was improving made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, even if it was via some eruption of bitter emotions, and it wasn't like you never praised him, quite the opposite. However, there was something different about how you had said it, that was what was nagging at him; the fact that you seemed to put him on a pedestal like some prodigy when, for him, he was the one lagging behind.

"You're just so onto it," you sobbed, "half the time, I'm just fucking around, but you're constantly growing and doing something. And then shit like this happens and it's last minute and I'm falling over myself trying to finish." Yatora just snorts in response; he recalls all the times you spent sketching out ideas for all kinds of projects, when you'd meet up with him with some new idea just to abandon it an hour later when something new catches your eye. Sure, maybe he had a more consistent work ethic but that gleam in your eye and the hyper-intense passion that you and everyone else got with art was something that didn't really come naturally to him. But that wasn't really it, was it? You both were just seeing each other in those moments, only noticing the shadow the other person cast over you. He brings his hand down to pull you into an embrace, plopping his chin where his hand previously was.

"You know that's all bullshit, right?" Yatora huffs, burying his face into your hair, "you all are way ahead of me, I'm the one who's catching up. Fuck, I still don't know if I even get art yet. I only started a couple years ago now, but you've all been doing this for way longer than I have, you have it all down now but I've only just gotten the hang of it, to be honest." You're shaking in his arms, and you know he's right. All of his improvements were the same as yours however many years ago, but seeing his growth as an artist compared to your stagnation made you forget all that. Of course, how could you have been so blind?

"Fuck," you choke out, "you're right, I'm sorry." You pull away from him, his hand falling limply from your shoulder to your knee, rubbing small circles into your skin. "I didn't mean to say all that, I-I know you're working hard just to pass, we-we all are... I let the stress get to me, I'm really sorry, Yatora." You laugh, rubbing the tears from your eyes as you try to collect yourself, the embarrassment from your little outburst beginning to sink in.

"It's fine, besides, I kinda like the smudges..." he chuckles, his hand reaching around to rub the back of his neck. At this moment, a slight blush begins to creep onto his cheeks, realizing just how intimate the scene had been. You glance up at him, eyes wide and puffy, and he feels all the air leave his chest. He drops his head to avoid eye contact, his hands bashfully trying to hide his blush but you knew better than to let the moment end. Out of curiosity, you slink up to remove his hands from his face, and he loses balance, falling back onto the vinyl. You hover over him for a moment, taking in his flushed appearance before giggling. It wasn't exactly rare to see Yatora like this but, after such an emotionally charged moment, it was exactly what you needed to feel better.

"You know, Yatora, I think I could get used to a view like this." You giggle as he rises, his hand running through his hair as he propels himself forward to sit up properly. He mutters for you to shut up but the smile on his face speaks otherwise. Slowly, Yatora brings a finger up to stroke your cheek, collecting some stray tears. There's a fondness in his eyes that you can't help but shuffle closer to get a better look at. "Thank you Yatora, for checking up on me and dealing with... well, that."

"Don't worry about it..." He trails off, leaning towards you, his single finger turning into a hand cupping your cheek. Planting a hand on each of his sides, you rise up to meet his lips in a small kiss. Your heart is beating a million kilometers an hour, the cool vinyl the only thing keeping you grounded in the heat of the moment. His lips are soft if not a little dry, the faint taste of tobacco offset by whatever he'd been snacking on earlier but you didn't mind. You reached around to tangle your fingers in his hair, while his hands settled on your waist, dipping under your shirt to rub at your skin. You settled on his lap, gasping as he began to trail kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You thanked every deity that the studio was empty tonight, no one around to witness you grinding against his clothed erection. You didn't want Yatora's ministrations on your body to cease even for a second but, as you desperately began to claw at his shirt, he pulled away for a moment. His face flushed and chest heaving, he asked, "Here? Now?"

"You said I needed a break, right?"

"I said you needed air."

"Same difference." You shrugged, reattaching your lips to his. Despite his complaints, one hand continued to snake up your back while another plunged beneath the waistline of your pants. Meanwhile, yours trailed down his chest to the hem of his shirt, following his movements as you sucked on the skin of his neck. You both paused, desperately removing your bottoms to cut straight to where you needed each other most. His fingers descended right to your heat, clumsily rubbing and prodding at your entrance but, at this point, any stimulation was enough. You let out a small whine, hastily reaching for his cock and rubbing it against your hole.

"W-wait, don't we need a condo-" Yatora's plea was cut off when you sunk down onto his length, a groan was ripped from his lungs before you silenced him with another kiss. Your tongues danced in rhythm with your hips, nimbly rocking back and forth in his lap while the tip of his cock hit your most sensitive spot. Pulling back for air, Yatora immediately reattached his lips to your neck, continuing where he left off by sucking dark purple marks on your collarbone. Your nails dug into his scalp as you bounced up and down in his lap, the muscles in your legs taut and you didn't know how much longer you could keep up the pace you had set for yourself. Sensing your exhaustion, Yatora leaned back, pulling you down with him as he began to thrust upward into you. With your arms planted on either side of his head for support, you pressed your forehead against his, the knot in your core tightening with every lunge of his hips.

"Yatora~" you whimpered, your body overcome by pleasure. Yatora rolled over, capturing you beneath him as he continued to thrust into you. His hands came up to cradle your head while you pulled him down to your lips, drowning yourselves in another lustful kiss. As your ears were assaulted by the wild slapping of skin, you became hyper-aware of your lewd conduct in the middle of the studio. If anyone were to walk in at any moment... The thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, your legs binding themselves around his waist as your back curved up off the floor. As your insides clenched around his cock, Yatora couldn't help but also come undone inside you, the orgasm enough to cloud his better judgment of pulling out. You both remained in that position for a while, the remainder of your clothes clinging to your bodies, your bodies aching and begging for respite. Yatora's senses returned first, panic setting in as he pulled out.

"I- uh... Y/N?" Yatora whispered, you merely hummed in response, still dazed from your intense orgasm. Yatora sighed, pulling you up to settle in his lap, your hands resting on his biceps and head nestling into the crook of his neck. He pulled at one of your hands, holding it delicately in his own, fiddling with your fingers, and examining the blue and yellow stains across your hand. He looked at your painting, and then back at you before smiling. "You're fucking beautiful"

A giggle bubbled out of you, "so are you."

"But seriously, you need air and food, all the paint and turpentine fumes are probably fucking with your head."

© 2022 All rights reserved — do not modify, translate, repost or claim any of my work.

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

If you had Life Eternal

Corny title, I KNOW ok? 🤪 I wrote this in like an hour at 1:00am! This started simply as a thought I had about a different take on the lyrics for this song. Just some angst that ends with Cardinal confessing his feelings for Reader.

Tw: the Papas are dead :/ Bonus tho: picture whichever Papa you'd like ❤️

• • •

"Cardinal?" you ask, gently pushing open his cracked office door.

"Ah, sì! Come in, Sorella!"

His cheery demeanor always made you feel welcome.

"Could I, uhhh... Could I show you something, Cardinal? I was wanting your opinion."

He could tell you were more nervous than usual, about what he couldn't guess, you had always been quite comfortable around one another since you'd started spending time together. You hadn't known him very well before... Well, before Sister Imperator had taken your beloved Papa from you.

"Of course, (Y/N), come, sit," he waves you towards the chair in front of his desk.

You quickly shut his office door and seat yourself opposite him. "Well, um, I'm sure you know it's coming up on another anniversary since..." The words die in your throat as you crinkle a piece of paper in your hands.

"Sì, mia cara, I know." The anniversary of the Papas' passing. Copia looks at you with genuine sympathy in his eyes; he couldn't imagine losing someone as close as you had.

"Well I wrote this for him. For Papa." You throw the paper on the desk.

The Cardinal awkwardly reaches out for it, somehow managing to stammer even in silence. His eyes carefully move over the tear stained scrawl on the delicate fibers.

"Can you hear me say your name forever?

Can you see me longing for you forever?

Would you let me touch your soul forever?

Can you feel me longing for you forever, forever?

I know the light grows darker down below

But in your eyes it's gone before you know

This is the moment of just letting go

If you had life eternal..."

Copia looks up at you when he finishes reading, "It's-"

"I know it's not much, but you're so good with words, Cop- I mean, Cardinal. I just thought you would know best," you blurt out.

"Cara, what I was going to say is that it is beautiful. I think it's a perfect dedication to your Papa."

"Well, he was everyone's Papa." You cast your eyes down at the floor.

"Sì, but you were especially close with him, and everyone knows how fondly he thought of you."

You're unable to look back up at him, knowing that if you do, you'll lose all composure. "Thank you, Cardinal." You quickly dismiss yourself from the room that suddenly felt so stuffy, leaving your note behind.

• • •

A few months later, you were invited to an open rehearsal for the Ghost Project. They're getting ready to leave for tour in a few weeks immediately following the release of the new album, so everything was pretty much polished; they just like to let the Siblings of Sin, high clergy, and any other ghouls and people belonging to the ministry hear their new music before everyone else.

You'd been lucky enough to get a preview of a few songs through the Cardinal, but you insisted he not give you too much special treatment, wanting to wait for their ministry gig.

The performance is so fun, as always, everyone singing along to songs that they already knew, and listening intently for the unfamiliar ones that they knew would become their new favorites! However, something strikes a cord when you heard your own words being belted by Cardinal Copia through the microphone.

As all the Siblings swooned over such a beautiful slow song, something Ghost didn't do often, you are seemingly frozen. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺? You feel beside yourself.

On the other hand, masked by his stage presence, Copia is so nervous to sing this song to you. And it is for you. He saw you pause upon hearing the first chorus, and he starts to worry when you don't move through the first verse.

Begging for you to look up at him, he gets his wish by the end of the second chorus. He meets your tear filled eyes; he had written a second verse just for you. As he serenades the crowd, his attention is on you; he could only hope you heard his thoughts, the meaning behind every line.

"We dance once more"

𝘐 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵.

"I feel your hands are cold"

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘮𝘪𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

"Within your heart, a story to be told"

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

"This is the moment of just letting go"

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

"This is the moment of just letting go"

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭.

By the third chorus, nothing feels real. Tears break past your waterline, and you feel like you might puke. You press your fingers to your mouth and quickly run from the room.

Luckily your stomach did not betray you, and you're able to calm your nerves by splashing cool water on your face in the bathroom. Not long after, you head back to your room, deciding it would be all too much to try to party any more tonight; you just need rest.

• • •

Hours pass and sleep never finds you. Frustration washes over you as you hear a knock on the door. Surely one of your fellow Sisters coming to drag you to a party.

"I'm asleep!!" you yell before throwing a pillow over your head.

"I, uhh, it doesn't sound like it, Sorella."

The Cardinal. Damn it. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 the person you wanted to see right now, not that you wanted to see anyone.

Begrudgingly, you trudge over to the door before cracking it open. "Topolino, are you alright? You seemed... unwell earlier. I was sad to see you leave so early."

You sigh, defeated, and open the door some more. "I'm fine, I just..." In your pause, the feelings bubble back up inside you, and it all comes gushing out, "I just can't believe you thought it was okay to do that!!! To make my words into a song! Private thoughts, my deepest feelings, and you just put it out there for everyone to hear!"

The Cardinal gently pushes you back into the room, closing the door behind you so no one would hear your tirade.

"I 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 you! And you used my feelings for your silly band!!! That second verse didn't even make sense!"

He stood there, and he took it until that last line. That's when he mumbled, "That was for you."

"What? What excuse could you possibly have for that?!" You didn't let up on him. You're mad and it's all spilling out now.

"𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶!" he boomed. "That second verse, I wrote it for you."

For the second time that night, your Cardinal had you speechless, frozen to the spot.

His voice comes much softer this time, "I know you wrote that first verse for your Papa, and so I sang it from your perspective, but the second verse is about how I see you..."

"Oh-" is all you can manage before his lips are on yours. Instinctively, you soften into his kiss; he's your Cardinal after all, you know he wouldn't do anything to hurt you on purpose. You know this just by the gentle way his hands caress your body, gracing the small of your back, your waist, your cheeks, and your hair as his lips write their own love letter against yours.

Both panting and dizzy from your heightened feelings, your apologize, "I'm so sorry, Copia. I really misinterpreted that whole thing..."

"Sì, I'm sorry too, mia bella. I should've discussed it with you. I'm sure it was a lot for you to take in," he hugs you to him tightly.

"Well... It was a beautiful arrangement. It would be a shame if the fans never got to hear it," you smile up at the man holding you so close.

"(Y/N), I will take it off the album if it displeases you."

"Cardi, what did I just say? Leave it on, let everyone know how much you love me," you grin at him.

"I 𝘥𝘰 love you, Sorella. Please let me love you."

Leaning up to him, you press another kiss to his lips, feeling his mustache tickle your nose.

"As you wish, my love."

That nickname coming from you was all he could ever ask for in this world.

[septembersghost]

I was a person who thought Maroon was about Harry on first listen and now feels dumb because the Jake of it all could not be more obvious lol

you're not dumb! first of all, the whole album was a lot to take in at first blush, and secondly she relies on some repeated themes in very different senses, so it requires some time and depth to unpack.

let's take dancing. our girl loves dancing as a theme ("and you know i wanna ask you to dance right there, in the middle of the parking lot!" "with you i'd dance, in a storm, in my best dress, fearless." "i'm wonderstruck, dancin' 'round all alone."), and in each context, it's different.

for example, we get dancing with joe j: "i'm not much for dancing, but for you i did." "tonight i'm gonna dance for all that we've been through, but i don't wanna dance if i'm not dancing with you." with him it's part of his charisma and even swagger ("the life of the party, you're showin' off again"), to where we also get, "sashay your way to your seat, it's the best seat in the best room."

we get dancing with jake, "we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light," and there it's a little about that love being hidden away, the nostalgia she's remembering before the crash and the heartbreak.

we get dancing with harry, "you moved the furniture so we could dance, baby like we had a chance," and it's the desperation for their love to not be splashed everywhere, the anxiety of everything swirling around them.

we get dancing WITHOUT calvin, both the entire theme of bejeweled and, "i was dancing around, dancing around it."

we get dancing with joe in dwoht and cowboy like me and glitch, dancing like it was the first time, dancing through an avalanche, swaying as the room burned down, dancing is a dangerous game, "i thought we had no chance, and that's romance, let's dance," and it's all her fear and worry of losing him, of being too much, of ruining things, of romance not lasting, and what happens is (in my interpretation), when the music stops and they're no longer dancing, he's still there. in the silences, in the stillness, painting maps on the ceiling, reaching out for her hand, asking for sweet nothing. the friction and the movement of the dancing can go quiet, and he's the constant. he doesn't drop her.

SO, this brings me to maroon.

"dancing with no shoes" is connected to dancing around in the refrigerator light to me, where they'd be barefoot in the kitchen (a place where, with joe, she found sacred new beginnings), and also, i think, it's a little bit of, "he didn't like it when i wore high heels."

then we get the reference to new york, which also recurs repeatedly with different people (holy ground/joe j: "first glance feeling on new york time;" atw10/jake: "your brooklyn broke my skin and bones;" cbbh/harry: "new york, be here, but you're in london...;" false god/joe: "i'm new york city" "you're the west village;" daylight/joe: "back and forth from new york, sneakin' in your bed;" hoax/imho regarding various heartbreaks and losses: "you know i left a part of me back in new york").

in maroon, it's connected to the dancing: "and i chose you, the one i was dancing with in new york, no shoes, looked up at the sky...and it was maroon," very much conjures the skyline at sunset, and the autumnal feel, and "getting lost upstate."

then there's the wine lyric: "the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me," and its closest sister being, "you're still all over me like a wine-stained dress i can't wear anymore." the key here is context about clean - a lot of people think clean references harry, but i personally think it's about jake and her recovery from that situation (plus, she was nowhere CLOSE to clean from harry yet at that point aklsdkljfdg she wrote style after clean).

taylor's scarlet lips are very "red lip classic," but she was already wearing her signature red lips when she was with jake (the stain on his own lips that she called home is from her lipstick imo, although i've seen people say it could also be from the wine).

and then, of course, there's the biggest clue, because she is unhinged (affectionate), and it's that she was clearly and prominently wearing the red ring when she announced maroon's title, and the entire song is just varying shades and contours and depths of "red." loving him wasn't only burning red, it was splashes of burgundy wine, it was rosé, it was the bruising purplish red (in fact, the red of loving him mixed with the blue of losing him), the blood rushing to her cheeks, the rust between telephones (phone calls were a significant aspect of their relationship and are mentioned across red as an album), the carnations mistaken for roses (which is SUCH a metaphor, and i say this as someone who actually loves carnations haha, but it's like - i thought this was rare and valuable, when it was cheap to you). it was so red it was maroon. (red is track 2, maroon is track 2).

moreover, the legacy he left isn't only his memory hanging over her, it's also a literal legacy. it's red being the masterpiece it is and finally being recognized as such. it's all too well being considered the gem of her catalog, being so celebrated and beloved that it was TRANSFORMED for her. it's almost marveling that this is what all that pain became - a real fucking legacy.

all that said, mr. styles intentionally borrowed imagery from taylor when he wrote about her. "she's lying in bed with my t-shirt on, just thinking how i went about it wrong. this isn't the stain of a red wine, i'm bleeding love." "same lips red, same eyes blue." "the fridge light washes this room white." "that nice dress in my wildest dreams, lipstick stains you left still on my sheets." i could go on lol. so making the connection wasn't missing what she was saying, it only requires sorting out the varying details.

there's a difference in the sonic approach too - the longing and sad uneasiness in maroon versus the anxiety and even aggravation in question...? i think she wore the red ring for maroon and used the very obvious OOTW sample in question...? to make it certain we knew which stories she was approaching.

question...? is very much a conversation, whereas maroon is a recollection, and i think that's important too. she's not talking directly to jake, she's remembering. (there's also the fact that the cadence of question...? is not dissimilar from keep driving.) harry said, of both of their songs, "it's the most amazing unspoken dialogue ever." i honestly think question...? is taylor continuing it.