#I have not cared about a concert in over a decade

[naniyo]

So who’s coming to Tavastia 2.0 gig next Wednesday? I would definitely appreciate some company and new brainrot friends, so let me know if you’d like to hang out 🫶 Would love some company in the queue.

(Also, someone who goes to gigs more, please please let know at what time do you think it would be a good idea to show up. My last concert queueing experience is from 15 years ago, help. I have tickets to both gigs but the k18 gig is obviously a priority.)

[ressjeon]

relief | myg (m.)

pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader (hints of ot7)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idol!au, long time ??

summary ⇢ the nerves have been shaking Yoongi’s usual confidence while preparing for his first solo tour — what a relief that you’re here then.

wc & rating ⇢ 3k | 18+

warnings/content ⇢ dom/sub dynamics, grinding, protected sex, riding, emotional sex?, praise kink, groping, semi-clothed sex, size kink, breast play, temperature play, orgasm control, yoongi’s hands are everywhere help, aftercare, pillowtalk <3

a/n: it's been a year since yoong's tour kicked off so i wanna celebrate with this, along with my return here! never thought i'll do this cuz i don’t usually write nor read this au but he won again on the poll last year so here we are XD! this is mainly inspired by what i was feeling while watching the live stream of both his shows in the first city of his d-day tour! pretty divider by the amazing @cafekitsune <3

after the final song, you were just as surprised as the crowd around you. a faint chuckle leaves you at the way Yoongi ended his concert.

of course, you should've expected that he'll pull something like this. 

“i’m so proud of you yoongs” 

you greet him enthusiastically as soon as you spot him at the entrance of the hallways near his dressing room. he’s smiling so wide, reaching you at once with his airport-like walk like how he exited the stage quickly earlier.

you beam once he catches you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders despite how sweaty he is.

“it went well” he giggles lightly, caging you in his arms before grabbing your hand to bring you to the backstage area where you both can see the audience without being seen.

the gummy smile plastered on his face never wavered as he watches the fans dispersing outside and you have an inkling that it's reminding him of the world tours with the boys before.

“i told you it would” you whisper once he turns to you, leaning in to give him a peck but Yoongi’s hand reaches up to grab your neck, pulling you in to catch your lips once more and deepen the kiss.

a small whimper elicits from you, both from being needy and worry that any staff might see you both like this but Yoongi seems to not care. it must be the adrenaline and the whiskey combo he had during the concert cause his calloused hands start roaming your body. 

a total opposite during soundcheck where he’s simply cuddling you while waiting during the delay that he almost fell asleep.

though Yoongi's performed in front of millions of people for a decade now, he still feels anxious since he’s doing this on his own and it’s been a long time since he met his fans in person. he was naturally nervous about this but you’ve been doing your best to support him so he's really grateful that you’re here.

teasing him earlier when he put those yellow sunglasses on while you rake your hand through his luscious locks thankfully helped ease his nerves.

"yeah yeah i saw the cat edit"

“you’re so cute”

.

a firm grab of your ass reminds you of where the two of you are, nudging Yoongi slightly to release you. both breathless from the kiss, he’s looking at you in bewilderment until you gestured him to the waiting staff who’s here to take his post-concert pictures.

“pics first” 

he only answered with a pout after releasing you but he followed. you on the other hand couldn't look at the photographer as embarrassment floods you, immediately retreating to the dressing room to wait for Yoongi there.

grabbing another glass of Henny, you scroll through your phone for updates on what’s going on outside. you did sneak out earlier and lined up with fans to get some merch and talked to some of them because well, you are one of them.

loving the boys and their music is one thing you share in common.

.

after a while, the door opens, revealing a smiling Yoongi like he hadn’t been teasing you this whole time.

maybe that was part of his plan but you’ve been patiently waiting. it even came to the point where you can't wait to be all over him now that everything’s done for the night.

placing your empty glass of brandy on the small side table, you drop your phone on the couch before approaching Yoongi. he chuckles when you hastily drag him toward the couch before climbing on his lap.

he doesn’t mind really, knowing how needy you get after he performs like you were in the past. he might’ve unintentionally teased you like he does to everyone else but it's one of the things he loved about you. 

how easily you get turned on in every little thing he and the others do but especially for this. knowing his voice can make you crumble instantly gives him that satisfaction that he didn’t know he had when he first met you.

“you’re worked up this much __?” he teases, hands situating themselves on both sides of your waist. “is it the black or white one?” he adds nonchalantly, pertaining to his outfits prior to the one he’s wearing right now.

“shut up, you know what your voice does to me” you whine impatiently, clutching the silver bone necklace around his neck before leaning in to kiss him again.

ah, the chain, another one that you love seeing on him. he'll always be fascinated with your favourites no matter how long you've been with them.

you deepened the kiss this time and Yoongi welcomed them with fervour. it’s his turn to get lost in the moment now that you’re needier than him. his ending fit riled you up this much that now you’re grinding yourself desperately on him but hey, he’s not complaining. 

his hands smooth around your covered thighs after, lingering between the crease of your legs before he releases your lips.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing leggings, you hate it” 

“it’s cold”

“explains the sweatshirt too” he muses, one hand tugging the baggy sleeve of your white tour sweatshirt with both his aliases on your chest.

his heart warms seeing it on you, the way you’re proudly wearing him even though this whole thing between you and them still remains a secret. his hands creep underneath your top, caressing your sides that hasten your roll against his crotch.

you lean in to kiss Yoongi once more but he grabs your sides, stopping you.

“want it off though” he whispers, the mischief in his eyes shifts to a demanding one.

his darkening orbs are looking straight into yours, making you squirm against him. you didn’t waste any time at once, taking off both your sweatshirt and your bra in a frenzy, much to Yoongi’s satisfaction.

you’d know with that cocky look resurfacing on his pretty face.

now that you’re bare in front of him, Yoongi can see your crotch rubbing along the top of his denim zippers. he could watch you like this, let you get off on your own until you cum like he’s done many times but he relents.

lately, he’s been so busy with the tour preparation that he missed seeing you this needy. he reaches down to cup your pussy, not surprised to find you drenched knowing how easy it is for you to get wet. 

you squirm at his touch, trying to get more friction by rubbing your swollen clit on the buckle of his belt. he knows it's you silently wanting his fingers to help you get off but his hand abruptly leaves you.

frustration looms on your face, your lips turning into a frown but Yoongi grabs your body closer and instantly latches his mouth on your tits, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“yoongi!” 

you didn’t mean to be loud but with how Yoong’s been licking your pebbled nipples and occasionally nibbling them, you’re starting to forget that there are still people outside the door who can hear you both.

one hand of yours takes a handful of his messy jet-black hair, pushing his face more into your chest. he groans and continues to nip around one tit while his other hand plays around your neglected breast.

kneading and pinching nonstop, you’re unable to hold in the whiny moans coming out of you as your other hand grips his shoulder. you’re relishing it, the rough feeling of callous fingers against your now-swollen nipples. 

taking a glance down at Yoongi, you notice how wet he is. he's drenched in sweat but my fuck does he look even hotter when he does. his mouth releases your peppered breasts, opting to fondle your clothed pussy this time.

“don’t tell me you’ve been wet since the first song” he teases and you look away from his heated gaze. he got his answer when he felt your cunt twitch through your clothed core. rough pads of his fingers rub you faster, more of your slickness seeping through your leggings to his hands.

he was clad in all black earlier, one of your favourites so he wasn’t that surprised.

“yoongi..” you’re panting, almost begging him with the way you're gripping his hair and shoulders. you need him to do something, anything more than teasing at this point. 

it surprises you when Yoongi grabs the empty glass of Henny that you put aside on the table earlier, taking the ice to his mouth and he’s back to assaulting your breasts. he rolls the ice cube with his tongue around your nipples, making you shiver at the cold and wet sensation.

you’re whimpering, legs shaking as the band on your lower abdomen threatens to snap with how Yoongi’s cold and wet fingertips fondling your core. the multiple stimulations are pushing you nearer to your orgasm. you’re not sure if he’s aware or not, if this was his plan all along.

“..oh fuck” 

“hmm?” 

“yoongi..i don’t.. wanna cum in this” 

you cry, eyes mustering your neediest look towards him, hoping he’ll listen to your pleas. and Yoongi did, his hand leaving your drenched pussy and mouth releasing your breast. relief courses through you, smiling at him despite the uncomfy feeling of your leggings sticking to your core.

“of course, you don’t, always wanting to cream my cock” 

he doesn’t say it in a mocking manner, the hint of adoration coming forward within his hooded eyes. you get off of him once his hands release you, quickly shimmying down your leggings while he unbuckles his baggy pants and boxers.

you didn’t miss him whipping out a condom from his front pocket, making you suspicious with your arms now crossed over your chest. 

“and why-”

“you’re here and i did remember you love being fucked anywhere”

he answers right away and your face morphs in shame, arms sliding down to your elbows, revealing your breasts again to Yoongi.

you hate being paranoid like this though you know he’s always been prepared. and he’s right, you do love it when they fuck you anywhere they like whether it be on the venue, in their vans or in their hotel rooms. 

it’s one of your favourites when you join them on tours before.

“yoon–..” you try but he beckons you closer and helps you back onto his lap, kissing you right away and ignoring your protests because he knew right away what you were gonna say.

“none of that hmm? lemme get you ready”

he took himself out and put on the condom already before his hands skitter around your inner thighs.

“no” 

he quirks a brow at you, wanting to make sure if that's what you want. even though you’re stark naked figure’s been enticing him to just fuck it and ruin you like you’ve been begging for, he's been a pro at controlling himself to prepare you.

huffing before wrapping your hands around his neck, you squeeze his nape as an answer. 

you just want him inside you and you don’t wanna wait anymore.

a smirk graces Yoongi's face at your impatience before helping your body up to grind on him again.

now rubbing your bare pussy against his dick, you enjoy watching him seethe with each friction. your hips circle until his swollen tip catches your entrance, pausing just to tease him. one of his hands scrambles to grip your hip and you chuckle before lifting yourself, grabbing his dick and lowering slowly.

“fuck,fuck,fuck” 

you watch Yoongi close his eyes, a plethora of curses coming out from his mouth. you’re whimpering in return, pussy walls fluttering around him to try to accommodate his thick girth.

“big..fuck, yoongi” you cry, tears threatening to well in your eyes. 

you love the feeling though and he knows it but Yoongi still tries to comfort you, roaming his veiny hands around your body till he reaches your breasts.

you start moving your hips slowly, planting your hands against his clothed chest as you try to take more of him. his hands fly on both sides of your waist, feline eyes also watching you while you’re slowly adjusting to him.

“more..” he grunts, prompting you to go faster as he tightens his grip on your waist. you try to roll your hips faster then deeper until you bottomed down.

pausing for a bit, you couldn’t help but lean in and whine against his clothed shoulder with how his cock’s filling you deliciously. 

he has other plans though, releasing a deep groan after you unconsciously clenched around him. he starts fucking up to you, pouring all that adrenaline rush coursing through his bloodstream. 

a loud moan escapes you when he finds that soft spot, causing you to pull back and again note the cocky smirk emerging on his handsome face.

“yoongi..fuck” 

“shhhh”

he silences you with a finger on his puckered lips, hips bucking up to you faster while he repeatedly hits that spongy spot again.

you struggle but you wanna be good for him so you close your eyes and force yourself to keep your moans in. it results in you gasping instead, small whimpers still escaping you with how magnified everything feels. 

“you listen really well baby” amusement laces Yoongi’s tone, eliciting deep moans after when you clamp around him with the praise. his groans spur you to ride him faster but you’re starting to feel the burn on your legs.

he must’ve felt you slowing down cause you found him grinning once you reopened your eyes. gritting your teeth, you dig your nails into Yoongi’s clothed shoulders and call his name in a whimper, biting your lip to hold back your release but his praise makes you crumble.

"yeah? come on __" he gauges you, kissing you at once to swallow the moans that you couldn’t keep in once you reach your peak.

he slows down his pace, letting you ride your own high as his mouth peppers your jaw then later your neck with kisses. his hands continue to caress your naked body until they reach down on your ass.

you let out a surprised yelp when he squeezes them hard, causing you to grip his damp hair once he starts fucking up to you again. 

calling your name with a deep groan, you whimper by his ear in response as he chases his release. he’s relentless with his fucking, groping your ass nonstop until you feel him explode in the condom.

you do miss it when he fills you up but you both can’t risk anything while he’s still on tour.

“shit..” he chuckles after releasing you, pushing his hair back with a satisfied look on his face but it shortly disappears when he notices the small tears in your eyes.

“was i too rough?” he worries but you shake your head. 

“you know i love it” you reply with a quick peck to his now perplexed face. he doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. 

“i just got emotional..you know” 

a small smile of relief breaks into Yoongi’s face, stroking your naked back while you’re both coming down from your highs. 

“i’m glad you’re here” he whispers, kissing your forehead. you don’t fucking know why you're suddenly emotional but it could be because of oxytocin flowing through you right now.

“the seesaw acoustic made me cry” you sniff, nuzzling Yoongi's clothed chest that’s a bit damp now, mixed with sweat and your tears but neither of you mind it.

“why? the lyrics still?” 

he did remember you crying after hearing it for the first time years ago, the lyrics being the sole reason of it.

“it’s just.. i don’t know, it reminds me of when you guys were touring before” you admit, melancholy in your voice while you reminisce watching his solo performance during their last world tour as a group. 

“thank you” he pauses, looking away from you. “for staying with us after all these years”.  he takes your hand and plays with it as he says those words.

you adore this side of Yoongi and now you feel bad for doubting him earlier. meeting them years ago and staying this entire time meant a lot of hardships that you went through together with the rest of his members.

“i miss all of you together” you give Yoongi a quick peck on his heated cheeks before giggling, all the sadness gone at the sight of him blushing. he sits up right away and grabs your face to do the same on your lips before lifting your body off of him.

“you see each of them all the time more than i do, i’m jealous”

he gets up, pulling off the used rubber before picking up your clothes that he threw around earlier. he emerges in front of you after, wet wipes in his hand as he parts your sore legs.

“who knows, maybe me and Jimin will drop by” 

he stops, letting out a snort and you raise a brow at him, mind suddenly alert to the possibility.

“he’s coming right?” 

“idk babe” he’s got that teasing smile and you wanna cry. 

“yoonggiiiii..”

“is this why you came here?”

“no” 

you’re back to sulking because the boys won’t tell you anything either. it’s something they’ve all kept a secret cause even Jimin won’t budge earlier when you tried to get the answer from him during pillow talk. 

however, Yoongi surprises you amidst your sulking when his head’s suddenly between your legs, licking up a stripe of your swollen folds, causing you to whine at the sensitivity.

he knows you’re tired so he stops your hand from grabbing his damp hair.

 “later” he mutters, licking his glistened lips as he wipes your pussy. 

you didn’t reply, still lying down on the couch while trying to put your bra, panties and leggings back on. getting up would be impossible so you wanna stay on the couch for a bit to cool down.

“i wanna surprise everyone okay? and you’re always on stan twitter”

he gives up, grinning at you with that adorable gummy smile before grabbing another glass of whiskey on the table. 

then instead of wearing it back, you throw your merch shirt at him.

“YOU GET DEETS BECAUSE OF ME” you yell, earning a deep chuckle from Yoongi.

then he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you, sending it to your group chat with a thumbs up caption. the others surprisingly replied immediately, with Jimin responding with a wink emoji.

oh they will pay for this.

e/n: it's been a long time lmao how are y'all? btw i wrote this during those two days and haven't opened it in almost a year now so 😂

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is NOT going soft. But when he first meets hob in 1389 he does have a slight fondness for the adventurous, intelligent omega. Most of the rest of the story is as usual. They make their deal. They meet every one hundred years. Hob aggressively loves life.

He also puts on strong mating hormones that Dream ignores.

But Dream does worry about hob. It is a hard world for omegas. After 1689, hob certainly knows it. But in 1789, dream makes a split second decision to tell hob that if he is ever hurt or captured or in danger, just call and dream will hear him.

Sure enough a few decades later, hob calls.

Alarmed, Dream appears ready to defend him. They’re alone in a nice hallway where hob is pacing. He looks very relieved and Dream scans the area but can’t sense an obvious threat. No demons. No Constantine.

Hob twines his arm with Dream’s with a wide apologetic but frantic smile and leads him into the next room where a group of humans wait, including an angry alpha holding flowers.

“This is my alpha,” hob says firmly and squeezes Dream’s arm. “I really am mated. So for the third time, I can’t accept your proposal.”

So yes hob probably shouldn’t be cashing in his favor for a fake mate but this alpha was getting really pushy, and hob is improvising. It has nothing to do with the fact that hob’s been fantasizing about being Dream’s for centuries.

And Dream is not soft. And yet he finds himself unable to deny hob this service. How hard could acting be?

I'm deeply obsessed with the idea of Dream decked out in early 1800s fashion, standing awkwardly in the doorway, holding Hob’s hand in a way that suggests he has quite clearly never held anyone's hand before. He should probably be angry, but instead he finds himself faintly amused by this little scheme that Hob has whipped up. Soon he finds himself suggesting that he ought to appear around town with Hob, if they really want to stop all those pushy alphas from proposing all the time. Hob is only too pleased to accept, and thoroughly enjoys promenading the streets arm and arm with his stoic, silent, slightly eldritch alpha. The gossip about Hob and his mate is rife. And despite the potential danger for Hob that comes with becoming notorious, he finds that he really doesn't mind. After all, Dream has promised to keep him safe.

Of course it makes sense that Dream is also there to help Hob through his heats. And take care of him as he recovers afterwards. And buy him all kinds of nice clothes to show him off in public. And take him to balls and concerts and the theatre. But when he watches Hob happily cooing over their firstborn child together, Dream has to wonder... is he going soft, after all? Well. Maybe a little bit.

[misscinnamonroll16]

You want more headcanons? No? Well that's too damn bad. Some of these are from a fanfic I'm writing (I'll post it once it's done)

Floyd can tell when his brothers are upset and will pester them until they talk about

Jd has so much pent up emotions. It started when he basically took over taking care of his brothers. He felt he needed to be happy so they could be happy.

Bruce may not have cooked when they were young but he watched how their grandma cooked and kind of memorized.

John Dory is constantly tense, his muscles are so tightly wound that he feels like solid muscle. The other bros think it's just bc he's been so active all these years until he finally relaxes a little.

Once back together, branch falls into the annoying little brother role. Taking embarrassing pictures and showing them to anyone (bonus points if it's a potential partner), and telling embarrassing secrets

Branch will never let them live down leaving him (if you know, you know 😂)

Clay and Floyd scare the crap out of the others. Clay because he's been silently walking around for the past two decades and Floyd because hes just a light stepper.

Bruce is a light sleeper, having kids made that worse (or better depending on how you view it)

Floyd sleeps V quietly. The type of sleep where you think they've died bc they haven't moved and you can't tell if you're imagining them breathing

JD snores. Like super loudly. But sleeps similar to Bruce, where he could wake up at the drop of a hat. He developed that tactic when they were kids and he heard one of his bros wake up in the middle of the night.

Floyd's voice is soft and comforting, the type to talk kidnappers about their childhood and how it lead them down this path.

John Dory will use his goggles to hide his eyes when he's been crying or hasn't slept in a long time. Did this when he'd stay up all night writing one of their songs or to hide the fact that he had been crying

John is painfully independent. Will refuse help despite the fact that he needs it most.

John Dory constantly uses the excuse that he's the oldest so he "doesn't need help" and "can take care of himself" and it infuriates his brothers to no end now that they're adults and realize that it's happening

It gets to a point where they practically have to tie JD down and force him to relax

Clay walks into walls while reading bc he walks while reading. The others find it funny until it happens several times in a row. Sometimes they "redirect" him before he walks into a wall, like a roomba

Floyd and Clay are little shits.

Clay got his head stuck in one of these at one of their first concerts. Him and Floyd (and technically Branch but he was being carried) were walking along when Clay got the "bright" idea to sit his head through, convinced he wouldn't get stuck. Clay sent Floyd to get help from spruce, who had to be the mature one and not laugh at him. Spruce just pushes his ears in and he pops right out. Once they turn to walk away Clay does it again, after getting him out again Spruce just picks him up like a sleeping bag under his arm.

Clay constantly made bets he couldn't keep. "Bet you five bucks I can do this or that." Mainly with Floyd bc Floyd wouldn't hold him to it

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

You Weren’t There

He never thought he would get here, doing what Ella wants him to do. Even Sherlock has nudged him in this direction. Gently, without any snark. 

“You’ll feel better, John. And no one has to see it. It’s a matter between you and the past,” Sherlock said softly and kissed his forehead.

So, here he is. Alone in 221B, pen in hand hovering over a sheet of paper. Ready to face and confront his parents, his only weapon a rollerball with black ink.

Mum and Dad

Once, I was your pride and joy. When and why did that change? Was it because of my lack of physical strength as a boy? My empathy for Harry when she came out as a lesbian? Or maybe it had to do with my trust issues. The issues you two are responsible for. Yes, you read that right. You. Both of you.

 I see now that you may have suffered from the same thing, because you never engaged with the other parents. They always thought you were happily married. You were always good at keeping up appearances.

Neither of you liked that I enjoyed music and wanted to learn to play the clarinet. You only allowed it because of my teacher who insisted that I’d join the music group, but you never cared. Not once did you attend a concert. You weren’t there. Never. Not for me. Not for Harry.

You’re both egocentric people who never should’ve had children. My miserable childhood notwithstanding, I’m glad of one thing; my life. Because I’ve finally found someone to love and who loves me in return. I know you won’t approve because it’s a man. The most brilliant, kind, loving, amazing, and extraordinary man who’s ever lived.

Because of your phobia against queerness, and my childish reluctance to disappoint you, I’ve been hiding my true self for decades. I even hurt this man, my Sherlock, for years since I was too afraid to come clean as a bisexual. And that fact haunts me the most. That I’m still having issues with this. I can’t blame you for all of it. I’m a grown man, but bad habits die hard.

This letter is supposed to be closure, a goodbye if you like. I have yet to decide if I want to send it to you. It’s about getting it all out, more for my sake than yours.

We married last month by the way. Harry was there. You weren’t invited. I know you never would’ve come anyway. Besides, I didn’t want you there. 

I’ve always detested weddings were everybody you know and are related to must be invited. Only people we love and care for were present.

You always had high hopes that I would marry when I became a doctor. It would be the perfect façade. Something you could brag about to your colleagues or whomever cared to listen to you.

If you ever get this letter, or if you already know, I bet everything I own that you’ve never mentioned it to anyone. To you, Harry and I are damaged goods. And when I write these words, I realise that I don’t care what you call me anymore, because I’m happy. For the first time in my adult life. Thanks to my husband, Sherlock Holmes.

John

He's mentally exhausted when he’s finished writing, and heads for the bathroom to wash off what feels like grime. The shower is like a cleansing and his entire body is relaxed. A considerable burden has been lifted off his shoulders and all that’s missing for this moment to be perfect is Sherlock.

When he opens the door to the bathroom, Sherlock waits for him with open arms. John’s heart skips a beat and his face lights up with the sight of his husband.

“I’m so proud of you, John,” Sherlock murmurs into John’s hair.

So, he’s read the letter. John left it on the desk for Sherlock to see, and he feels relief wash over him.

“It was easier than anticipated. Something I should’ve done ages ago.”

John cradles Sherlock cheek and locks eyes with him.

“Thank you for caring, for never faltering in your faith in me, for being there, for loving me” John says warmly.

“Always,” Sherlock retorts and kisses John’s palm tenderly before he seeks out John’s lips.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @phoenix27884 @a-victorian-girl @helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @raina-at @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @7-percent @ninasnakie

[apuff]

my predictions for wwwyf:

the whole band does the family guy death pose on the ground for the entire time slot instead of playing music. the crowd immediately gets lost trying to sing along without them and at some point it devolves into people shouting random parts of songs they like (this is especially funny for the songs that are definitively not in the black parade)

the previous thing but an event coordinator peeks on stage, pokes a few people with their shoe, and starts frantically making phone calls in a hushed but distinctly panicky voice

the concert starts like normal, but quickly devolves into a slapstick comedy performance of looney-tunes-esque injuries to reference the many injuries mcr sustained while doing the original black parade tours and music videos

mcr isn't on stage at all and the only thing you can see is vocaloid-style hologram skeletons doing the skeleton dance

i am in a completely different city at goodwill shopping for pieces of my halloween costume right at the time they start playing the breakdown in mama. as this is my favorite part of the whole black parade, i abruptly keel over from a heart attack in the middle of the store because of the transcendent power of band autism. in the decades that follow, no one will ever be able to understand the cause of my death, but let it be known that if you strain your ears to listen in the graveyard at night, the black parade can be heard quietly, almost inaudibly so, echoing from my headstone.

there isn't any comment about mcr5 the entire time. because we are conspiracy theorists, we take this as a tacit confirmation that mcr5 will infact be happening imminently

at certain points throughout the tracklist, random, or rather seemingly random, lyrics are changed by a letter or a word. this is enough to draw people's attention, and as it turns out, if you type all the changes made into a search engine, the singular result aside from people theorizing about it on reddit is an unknown, sketchy website that looks like it would instantly give you 500 malware and die. the website displays only a single picture of realistic human skull. when you inspect it, hidden amongst the code is a very different type of code, a cryptic string of letters and numbers. as it turns out, this text is actually instructions that have been put through WWII-era war encryptions. when translated, this text gives driving directions. if you follow its commands starting from the wwwyf grounds, you'll be taken on a downright frightening drive through some of the most backend streets & drug dealer houses & decrepit graveyards in the entire southwest. once you're thoroughly lost, then and only then will you be able to find the warehouse. this warehouse is a laburinthine mess of ancient relics, long-lost props from music videos, several very authentic looking vampire corpses, a few questionably stained revolvers, killjoy masks, rubble from the world trade centers, vintage marching band uniforms, a shocking variety of weapons, and finally a single edison tin foil cylinder. survivors from the warehouse later state they felt an overwhelming presence and could have sworn they saw a shadow in the corner of their eyes. after several months in the intensive care unit and several more months in both physical and mental therapy, these brave souls will place the cylinder, with shaking, scarred, and weak hands, into the phonograph, from which, after a torturous second of silence, will echo the first sweet notes of mcr5.

they accidentally point the pyrotechnics at the audience. oops!

some gay shit happens idk

[unsolicited-opinions]

Read this again today for the first time in a year and it's still one of the best pieces I've read on this topic.

It is long, but I urge you to read it.

(Pasted here unedited so nobody needs to visit Musk's platform, formerly known as Twitter.)

Isaac Saul

11:26 AM · Oct 10, 2023

People ask me all the time if I am "pro-Israel" because I am a Jew who has lived in Israel, and my answer is that being "pro-Israel" or being "pro-Palestine" or being a "Zionist" does not properly capture the nuance of thought most people do or should have about this issue. It certainly doesn't capture mine.

I have a lot to say. I’ve spent the last 72 hours writing, texting, and talking to Israelis, Jews, Muslims, and Palestinians. Much of my reaction is going to piss off people on "both sides," but I am exhausted and hurting and I do not think there is any way to discuss this situation without being radically honest about my views. So I'm going to try to say what I believe to be true the best I can.

Let me start with this: It could have been me.

That's a hard thought to shake when watching the videos out of Israel — the concert goers fleeing across an empty expanse, the hostages being paraded through the streets, the people shot in the head at bus stops or in their cars. I went to those parties in the desert, I rubbed shoulders with Israelis and Arabs and Jews and Muslims, I could have easily accepted an invitation to some concert near Sderot and gone without a care, only to be indiscriminately slaughtered. Or, perhaps worse, taken hostage and tortured.

I don’t believe Hamas is killing Israelis to liberate themselves, nor do I believe they are doing it to make peace. They're doing this because they represent the devil on the shoulder of every oppressed Palestinian who has lost someone in this conflict. They're doing it because they want vengeance. They are evening the score, and acting on the worst of our human impulses, to respond to blood with blood — an inclination that is easy to give in to after what their people have endured. It should not be hard to understand their logic — it is only hard to accept that humans are capable of being driven to this. Not defending Hamas is a very low bar to clear. Please clear it.

It’s not possible to recap the entire 5,000 year history of people fighting over this strip of land in one newsletter. There are plenty of easily accessible places you can learn about it if you want to (and, by the way, many of you should — far too many people speak on this issue with an obscene amount of ignorance, loads of arrogance, and a narrow historical lens focused on the last few decades). But I'll briefly highlight a few things that are important to me.

In my opinion, the Jewish people have a legitimate historical claim to the land of Israel. Jews had already been expelled and returned and expelled again a half dozen times before the rise of the Muslim and Arab rule of the Ottoman Empire. Of course it’s messy because we Jews and Arabs and Muslims are all cousins and descendents of the same Canaanites. But Arabs won the land centuries ago the same way Israel and Jews won it in the 20th century: Through conflict and war. The British defeated the Ottoman Empire and then came the Balfour Declaration, which amounted to the British granting the area to the Jewish people, a promise they’d later try to renege on — all before the wars that have defined the region since 1948.

That historical moment in the late 1940s was unique. After World War II, with many Arab and Muslim states already in existence, and after six million Jews were slaughtered, the global community felt it was important to grant the Jewish people a homeland. In a more logical or just world that homeland would have been in Europe as a kind of reparation for what the Nazis and others before them had done to the Jews, or perhaps in the Americas — like Alaska — or somewhere else. But the Jews wanted Israel, the British had taken to the Zionist movement, the British had conquered the Ottoman Empire which handed them control of the land, and America and Europe didn’t want the Jews. As a result, we got Israel.

The Arab states had already rejected a partitioned Israel repeatedly before World War II and rejected it again after the Holocaust and the end of the war. They did not want to give up even a little bit of their land to a bunch of Jewish interlopers who were granted it all of a sudden by British interlopers who had arrived a hundred years prior. Who could blame them? It had been centuries since Jews lived there in large numbers, and now they wanted to return in waves as secularized Europeans. Many of us would probably react the same way. So, just as humans have done forever, they fought. The many existing Arab states turned against the burgeoning new Jewish state. One side won and one side lost. This is the brutal and broken and violent world we live in, but it is what created the global world order we have now.

Are Israelis and British people "colonizers" because of this 20th century history? Sure. But that view flattens thousands of years of history and conflict, and the context of World War I and World War II. I don’t view Israelis and Brits as colonizers any more than the Assyrians or the Babylonians or the Romans or the Mongols or the Egyptians or the Ottomans who all battled over the same strip of land from as early as 800 years before Jesus’s time until now. The Jews who founded Israel just happened to have won the last big battle for it.

You can’t speak about this issue in a vacuum. You can't pretend that it wasn't just 60 years ago when Israel was surrounded on all sides by Arab states who wanted to wipe them off the face of the planet. Despite the balance of power shifting this century, that threat is still a reality. And you can't talk about that without remembering the only reason the Jews were in Israel in the first place was that they'd spent the previous centuries fleeing a bunch of Europeans who also wanted to wipe them off the face of the planet. And then Hitler showed up.

American partisans have a narrow view of this history, and an Americentric lens that is infuriating to witness. As Lee Fang perfectly put it, "Hamas would absolutely execute the ACAB lefties cheering on horrific violence against Israelis if they lived in Gaza & U.S. right-wingers blindly cheering on Israeli subjugation of Palestinians would rebel twice as violently if Americans were subjected to similar occupation."

And yet, many Americans only view modern Israel as the "powerful" one in this dynamic. Which is true — they obviously are. It isn't a fair fight and it hasn't been for decades because Israel's government is rich and resourceful, has the backing of the United States and most of Europe, and has an incredibly powerful military. At the same time, Israeli leadership has made technological and military advancements that have further tipped those scales — all while the Israeli government has helped create a resource-thin open air prison of two million Arabs in Gaza.

Conversely, Palestinians are devoid of any real unified leadership, and the Arab world is now divided on the issue of Palestine. Israel is unwilling to give the people in Gaza and the West Bank more than an inch of freedom to live. These are largely the refugees and descendents of the refugees of the 1948 and 1967 wars that Israel won. And you can't keep two million people in the condition that those in the Gaza strip live in and not expect events like this.

I'm sorry to say that while the blood on the ground is fresh. The Israelis who were killed in this attack largely have nothing to do with those conditions other than being born at a time when Israel and Jews have the upper hand in this conflict. Some of the victims weren’t even Israeli — they were just tourists. This is why we describe them as “innocent” and why Hamas has only reaffirmed that they are a brutal terror organization with this attack — an organization that I hope is quickly toppled, for the sake of both the Palestinian people and the Israelis. But as someone with a deep love for Israel, with friends in danger and people I know still missing, it breaks my heart to say it but I'm saying it again because it remains perhaps the most salient point of context in a tangled mess full of centuries of context:

You cannot keep two million people living in the conditions people in Gaza are living in and expect peace.

You can't. And you shouldn’t. Their environment is antithetical to the human condition. Violent rebellion is guaranteed. Guaranteed. As sure as the sun rising.

And the cycle of violence seems locked in to self-perpetuate, because both sides see a score to settle:

1) Israel has already responded with a vengeance, and they will continue to. Their desire for violence is not unlike Hamas’s — it’s just as much about blood for blood as any legitimate security measure. Israel will “have every right to respond with force." Toppling Hamas — a group, by the way, Israel erred in supporting — will now be the objective, and civilian death will be seen as necessary collateral damage. But Israel will also do a bunch of things they don't have a right to. They will flatten apartment buildings and kill civilians and children and many in the global community will probably cheer them on while they do it. They have already stopped the flow of water, electricity, and food to two million people, and killed dozens of civilians in their retaliatory bombings. We should never accept this, never lose sight that this horror is being inflicted on human beings. As the group B’Tselem said, “There is no justification for such crimes, whether they are committed as part of a struggle for freedom from oppression or cited as part of a war against terror.” I mourn for the innocents of Palestine just as I do for the innocents in Israel. As of late, many, many more have died on their side than Israel's. And many more Palestinians are likely to die in this spate of violence, too.

Unfortunately, most people in the West only pay attention to this story when Hamas or a Palestinian in Gaza or the West Bank commits an act of violence. Palestinian citizens die regularly at the hands of the Israeli military and their plight goes largely unnoticed until they respond with violence of their own. Israel had already killed an estimated 250 Palestinians, including 47 children, this year alone. And that is just in the West Bank.

2) Every single time Israel kills someone in the name of self-defense they create a handful of new radicalized extremists who will feel justified in wanting to take an Israeli life in retribution sometime in the future. Half of Gaza’s two million people are under the age of 19 — they know little besides Hamas rule (since 2006), Israeli occupation, blockades, and rockets falling from the sky. The suffering of these innocent children born into this reality is incomprehensible to me. They will suffer more now because of Hamas’s actions and Israel’s response, all through no fault of their own.

There is no way out of this pattern until one side exercises restraint or leaders on both sides find a new solution. Israelis will tell you that if Palestinians put their guns down then the war would end, but if Israel put their guns down they'd be wiped off the planet. I don't have a crystal ball and can’t tell you what is true. But what I am certain of is that every time Israel kills more innocents they engender more rage and hatred and recruit more Palestinians and Arabs to the cause against them. There is no disputing this.

So, why did this happen now?

I'm not sure how to answer that question except to say it was bound to happen eventually. It was a massive policy and intelligence failure and Netanyahu should pay the price politically — he is a failed leader. Iran probably helped organize the attack and the money freed up by the Biden administration's prisoner swap probably didn't help the situation, either. Israel's increasingly extremist government and settlers provoking Palestinians certainly didn't help. Nor has going to the Al-Aqsa mosque and desecrating it. Nor do blockades and bombings and indiscriminate subjugation of a whole people. Nor does refusing to talk to non-terrorist leaders in Palestine. Nor does illegally continuing to expand and steal what is left of Palestinian land, as many Jews and Israelis have been doing in the 21st century despite cries from the global community to stop. A violent response was predictable — in fact, plenty of people did predict it.

Israel is forever stuffing these people into tinier and tinier boxes with fewer and fewer resources. But if you want to blame Israeli leaders for continuing to expand and settle land that does not belong to them (as I do), then you should also spare some blame for Palestinian leaders for repeatedly not accepting a partitioned Israel during the 20th century that could have led to peace (as I do).

Please also remember this: Hamas is still an extremist group. The Palestinian people do not have a government or leaders who legitimately represent their interests, and it sure as hell isn't Hamas. Will some Palestinians cheer and clap at the dead, or spit on them as they are paraded through Gaza? Yes they will. And they have. Many will also mourn because they loathe Hamas and know this will only make things worse. This is no different than how some Americans cheer at the dead in every single war we've ever fought. It's no different than the Israelis who set up lawn chairs to watch their government bomb Palestine and cheer them on, too. This doesn't mean Palestinians or Israelis or Americans are evil — it means some of them are giving in to their violent impulses, and their zealous feelings of righteous vengeance.

Solutions, you ask? I can’t say I have any. If you came here for that, I’m sorry. The two-state solution looks dead to me. A three-state solution makes some sense but feels out of the view of all the people who matter and could make it happen. I wish a one-state solution felt realistic — a world of Israelis and Arabs and Muslims and Jews living side by side with equal rights, fully integrated and defused of their hate, is a version of Israel that I would adore. But it seems less and less realistic with every new act of violence.

Am I pro-Israel or pro-Palestine? I have no idea.

I'm pro-not-killing-civilians.

I'm pro-not-trapping-millions-of-people-in-open-air-prisons.

I'm pro-not-shooting-grandmas-in-the-back-of-the-head.

I'm pro-not-flattening-apartment-complexes.

I'm pro-not-raping-women-and-taking-hostages.

I'm pro-not-unjustly-imprisoning-people-without-due-process.

I'm pro-freedom and pro-peace and pro- all the things we never see in this conflict anymore.

Whatever this is, I want none of it.

Oct 10, 2023

[stormblessed95]

Hi Stormblessed (dope name btw),

Don't know if this is the best place for this essay or the right time but I need to word-vomit this out, or I'm gonna be a JK-style spaced out zombie all day.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that a big part of the fandom tends to mis-characterize the members based on edits, fanfics and out-of-context clips. Something probably mostly to do with how social media platforms have been pushing for these short videos over the last few years. Why watch 300 hours of original content (some of which is behind a paywall) if you can get the gist of it (you think) from TikToks?

My particular point has to do with how that allows for the narrative (aka made up shit) especially around Jimin to grow. All of the members get that treatment, the maknaes worse due to their popularity, but due to how a big part of Army are also tkk shippers, Jimin is the one who's portrayal often skews more negative. The others' perceptions just are neutral or fantastical in a sense that they're more like badly written male leads. Don't get me wrong, solos throwing around bs is nothing singular to him but no one gets accused (said completely seriously btw) of sleeping his way into BTS or the release of his album.

After I saw this vitriol for the first time I had to actually sit down because wtf.

And then I started wondering why that is, and came to the conclusion that it is:

(Internalized) misogyny and sexism

Blatant homophobia

Jimin is the member the most obviously in tune of his femininity. He hasn't subscribed to gender norms for a decade at least, and once his hyper-masculine-esque persona from the debut days was dismissed, he ventured further. (That isn't to dismiss the growth they all have shown in that area.)

But antis, akgaes, Solos and shippers take that femininity and apply every stereotype and misogynistic idea to JM.

Traits they f.e. hate:

He is openly flirty with many people (members especially)

He is very physical, and touch is arguably one of his love languages and go-to way of comforting smn

He is pretty af and knows it

He's sensual and sexy and knows it

He's cute

He's sweet (aka a good fucking human)

But why does that make "them" hate him so much?

Because they have been taught that these traits in women (like themselves) are bad. What makes it worse, however, is that the men around JM all know these things to be true, acknowledge them as true and compliment him on them. In the case of JK (since this is about Jikook at the end of the day):

He loves flirty JM despite sometimes not knowing how to handle him (ehem the 'shameless convo'). He flirts back (fe the whole live where he was in bed begging for JM to come over)

Tkkers and such love pulling the "JK hates it" card. Which is nonsense, considering how he seeks JM's comfort when he's down (esp during concerts), actively cuddles JM (In The Soop) and never uses all his big muscles to shove JM but rather to just carry him around. Compare that to the jokingly disgusted face Yoongi pulls when Tae tries to hold his hand, and it becomes glaringly obvious that no one who says the members dislike touching each other has a leg to stand on. Calling it harassment goes so far beyond any line of sanity...

JK - like all of BTS - acknowledges that Jimin's beauty is simply out of this world. They are regularly stunned by his appearance

Just gonna point to JK's reaction to Filter, Blood Sweat & Tears, Black Swan, and Set Me Free pt 2 here. JK calls JM sexy so often it's hilarious

* inserts clip of absolutely WHIPPED JK after JM cutely punches him during that performance of Boy With Luv *. Also we know that "cute" his JK's type as he himself admitted.

Jimin has been Jungkook's comfort person for so long, and with such depth that he dedicated a whole trip and video to him. They care for each other so deeply that the only logical conclusion was to go to the military together.

Aka: he is all that they hate in the girls/women in their normal life so they can't do nothing but tear him down. They envy how comfortable he seems in his own skin, how easily he goes from sexy to cute, how loved he is by those around him. On top of that is how gay people are still perceived and treated by a lot of countries around the world. No matter what they say, being an army and shipping men doesn't make you automatically an ally and non-homophobic.

They treat Jimin like they would most likely treat the lgtbqia+ people in real life: something to be careful of, someone dishonest and slutty.

They conflate everything they hate about themselves and gay people and * boom * out come frankly terrifying tweets, fanfics and shit.

Contrast that with how these very same people fetishize the relationship between Tae and Jungkook - either viewing them like men who watch p_rn involving two women, or a self-insert with how little character they have - and that's the state of the army shipping community. They could be Barbie dolls getting smashed together and you wouldn't know the difference.

I'm not saying Jikookers are better in that, but the language they tend to use is incredibly different.

---

That was a lot.

To end on a sweet note: I saw a quote on Twitter "If you want to find out what someone fears losing, look at what they photograph."

And...well. that just screams Jikook

Hi! Thank you, I like my name too 🥰

And yeah, basically I agree. I think there is more to it as well, but that a lot of it could be boiled down to all this. And yeah, jikookers are just as guilty of this too, but not always in the same way. Sometimes in a way that is more fetishizing but is just as harmful. Take it from someone who has seen it all in my inbox from people who feel safe on anon 😂😂

Thanks for sharing! And your quote at the end is SOOOOO cute!

[akookminsupporter]

Hey Rosie, so i did a thing a decided to visit some taekook blogs to just read some of their theories to see if i could understand where they are coming from because no matter how hard i think about things, i just can’t for the life of me understand why someone will honestly still ship taekook in 2024 and even after watching everything Jikook have done for and to each other in years and when i tell you i lost braincells, believe me i did.

I’m one person who believes that people should be free to believe in what they want to as long as they are not being dismissive of other members bonds but i realized that, that is literally the only way taekookers cope. They are blatantly dismissive of Jk’s bond with Jimin and only acknowledge it when it comes to moments they cannot argue and then the want to play the “they are bestfriends so it’s normal” card even though just right before that, they were claiming how Jk arrived Yoongi’s concert and ignored Jimin. How can u say this and then when someone brings something which obviously shows how Jk cares about Jimin you are back to claiming that they are bestfriends even though you think Jk will arrive a concert and ignore his bestfriend just because he wants to cling to his “boyfriend”? Make it make sense.

I know that in the last years, jikook spaces have gotten really toxic and some jikookers are becoming as delulu as tkkrs but i will always thank God for the handful of sane jikookers we still have because trust me when i tell you that there is not a SINGLE sane taekooker in this world. All of them have either been brainwashed or are plain stupid. For the most part, most jikookers pay attention to facts to try to make sense of jikook. Yes we do have our theories but you don’t see Jikookers sticking to their theories as proof of the damn ship but this is the opposite for taekookers. They actually don’t care about the facts. They don’t care about what the boys have to say or what has actually happened all these years. They only care about their own interpretation of the boys actions and words.

You wouldn’t hear them bringing up tangible reasons as to why they think their ship is real. They will bring up reasons like the fact that taekook wore the same shirt on the same day and same time even though they were in different continents💀. They will bring up things like hearing taekook’s voices in each other’s Lives and the only proof they have for this are the voices in their heads.

I am one of those who believes that Jikook sometimes hide in each other’s Lives but i don’t believe this just because i see them look to a certain direction for 3 seconds or because i hear a random sound. My belief is backed up by the fact that we literally have evidence which has been consistent for over a decade which points to the fact that Jimin and Jk are the two who spend the most of their nigts together. I didn’t come to this conclusion by imagining that they do, i came to this conclusion because they have literally told us this so many damn times. So if i hear a voice or feel like someone else is in Jimin or Jk’s room at some odd hour, i am more inclined to think it is Jimin or Jk rather than anyone else because those two have a history of being in each other’s rooms the most, you get? It is the same as, if someone has a reputation of being a theif, if something gets missing everyone will most likely look to them first before anyone else.

Another thing that is really weird to me about taekookers is how they blatantly ignore everything we have witnessed Jikook do for years and then they hype up taekook doing some of those things for a 6 months period. This entire fandom has seen Jikook arrive and leave so many places together for years with or without tae present. We know that Jk has hung out with Jimin and his friends for years. Infact we saw Jk with Jm’s friends way b4 anyone ever dreamed of Jk hanging out with Tae’s wooga but when Jk did all these things with Jimin, it didn’t matter and it meant nothing but now, some of them consider it irrefutable proof that taekook is real because Taekook arrived and left a concert together ONCE in 10 years and because for the first time in a decade, Jk was seen hanging out with Tae and his friends for a period of time. MAKE IT MAKE SENSE.

Do you remember those days when taekookers used to swear that Jikook hanging out alot outside of work was proof that they weren’t real because according to them, no closeted couple in a homophobic country will expose themselves so much? Remember when JM and Jk sharing cars was fanservice? Remember how they downplayed Jk’s lives about JM in chapter two because it was “official content” but were praying Jk did the same for tae and when that didn’t happen, they switched their narrative to “Jk was forced” or “Jm needed promotion while tae didn’t”. I honestly don’t understand how they even make sense to themselves. Ask them why they think Jk and tae are a couple when there is literally evidence Jk spending birthdays and couple holidays with Jimin and not seeing Tae some times at all and they tell you, Jk and tae have to protect themselves by lying that they don’t. So you mean to tell me that Jk and Tae don’t feel the need to “protect” themselves when they are attending premiers or when tae is namedropping Jk 1783787 times or when Tae is coming to announce that Jk sings him a song but they only feel the need to “protect” themselves when it comes to admitting that they go to greet each other on birthdays?

You see that their entire premise of belief in their ship is making other people the villains in taekook’s lives. The big bad company who constantly separates the boys in camera, constantly forces Jk to do fanservice with Jimin, constantly cuts their moments, Jimin who constantly forces himself on Jk, who doesn’t respect his friends relationships, Jk who is lilly livered and cannot stand up and say no to the money hungry company, Jk who sometimes hurts tae by playing along with the “fanservice” and poor tae tae who has to sit there and take all of this. Poor tae tae who has a terrible soulmate and a boyfriend who cannot fight for him. He is the real victim in all of this. I honestly don’t know how they don’t see how incredibly stupid they sound.

Sorry for the rant.

Anon, thanks for the TED TALK.

Honestly, there is not much I can add. Thanks for taking one for the team and read what las vecinas are saying, you are a stronger person than me because I have never been able to do that. I think two of the key things for that group to stay afloat for so long are:

Not seeing original content.

Living in denial.

And that's why they will always be around, no matter what.

[enchantedflameandflower]

Can you talk about your thoughts on Billy and Becca's relationship? From what I've read from your comments and notes, you're not a big fan of them together and it's rare to find others besides myself in the Boys fandom willing to be critical of this ship and especially Becca herself in regards to how it turned out.

Yeah I can certainly try! I don’t speak on it a lot I don’t think because I’m not about to argue with someone I don’t even know and I’m not going to put down someone’s ship. I wouldn’t say I’m not a fan of them together, I love how Billy loved her and he did - I would say I’m not a fan of the way people put her or their relationship on a pedestal just like she said not to and they were clearly toxic for each other.

My feelings have a lot of different aspects - one I think she’s just badly written, I mean she’s totally fridged and there’s no basis in my opinion for her to be amazingly perfect? (Not that any woman has to!) So I don’t get why people think that. Two - my feelings while I’m watching emotionally are kind of different from my more academic opinions and are also different from Addison’s feelings on it - which in my head I’ve really gotten into so I can write my story authentically.

I will say additionally I have a degree in psychology and I’ve been in a happy successful relationship for 27 years (so far) from 16-43 so I know a little bit about what it takes. The things we have been through together and come out still completely committed and fully loving each other…

Emotionally, she annoys me and that’s just me. They’re trying to make her look like some amazing mother but the first chance she gets she’s spouting how she just ‘acts’ like ‘Carol fucking Brady’ like what? How is that in any way being a good mom. And I hugely disagree with her over sheltering. And she just wishes she was doing nothing on the couch smoking weed and eating Cheetos like huh? That’s the first thing she wants to say to Billy after 10 years? The way she acts about it rings so weird to me. Now BELIEVE ME I absolutely do those things too and enjoy it when my child is good for the night but I would never say it like that or think like that nor would that ever be my first conversation with my husband after hiding from him for a decade.

Billy was shown often (except for one weird one off line) to be there for her and love her but her whole attitude and the ease with which she left him leads me feel she was in it for a good time and not much else. The conversation about the spice girls concert is ridiculous. I can’t even fathom making my husband do something like that that he’s not into. We absolutely both have things we like to do together and then we have our own things too. Why would she force him to go to something he hates like that? Especially when she has her sister to enjoy it with. I don’t get it at all and it’s not how a relationship works.

In the fourth season the Becca hallucination tells Butcher that he shouldn’t betray Hughie even to save Ryan, there would be another way. And that’s what should’ve happened after she was r*ped. She left Billy because he would’ve gone on a rampage if she told him?? She thinks he wouldn’t if she disappeared? (He did.) How does that make sense. There’s always another way. Just like she says. I cannot even for a second imagine doing what she did to my husband. And yes I understand Billy has major problems but he was never shown to be beyond love and support. I don’t think she supported him as a partner at all. She was there because he was hot, sexy, he worshipped her and he took care of her. How did she take care of him, ever? I have a lot of Billy in me on the inside and I’ve said some very choice things in private messages but I won’t say them here haha <3

Now Addison is a better person than me, though of course she doesn’t know any of those examples, but she loves Billy unconditionally even though it’s going to be really really hard but her view of Becca is through Billy’s eyes so she really respects and protects that vision for Billy in a way and I kind of like exploring that too :) Latest chapter out here 🖤

hope that kind of makes sense, and thank you for your ask. just my thoughts and all ships should be happily whatever the shipper wants them to be because a ship can be anything

[spankedquail]

I've adored every post you've made up until that last one. That last one is deeply concerning.

You are a human being who works and earns your income. Life is very short. Your husband removing all ways of receiving joy in life is trouble. No self-pleasure? No sexual pleasure? Not even being allowed to purchase a coffee, make-up, clothes or whatever your hobby is? You deserve to freely engage in whatever your joys are.

If you're 100% fine with this change in the dynamic, then good luck to you.

But if not, you have every right to safeword that. That's quite serious.

Say you're in an area with no cell service, or cell service goes out unexpectedly because cell companies DO go out at times. Outages do happen, and now you have no access to your money that YOU earned without his permission? That's risky, in not a fun or kinky way.

While this deep level of submission is lovely, you are still an individual with rights.

Not hating- just a worried anon.

Kind regards.

Hey, I really appreciate your thoughtful comment! I’ll do my best to answer it because I think it’s important to share and clarify a few things :)

First off, thank you for your concern. You’re totally right that, in a scenario like the one you mentioned, there could be potential danger. I want to reassure you that I do have access to my accounts as well. While my husband can access them through our shared 1Password account, I’m not locked out. If an emergency came up, I could act independently without needing any special protocol.

I also want to clarify something about sexual pleasure in our relationship. I absolutely experience immense pleasure when we’re intimate. In fact, not orgasming tends to heighten the overall experience for me rather than diminish it. It’s important to note that everything is consensual, and this dynamic enhances our connection, rather than taking away from it.

This is a bit embarrassing to admit, but for context: I’ve been lavishly spending for well over a decade! I love nice things, and I already own more clothes and shoes than I care to admit—essentially, I have an entire walk-in closet full of...everything. I truly don’t need to buy more, and the financial check-ins have been incredibly helpful for us. They’ve actually allowed us to pay off our mortgage almost twice as fast as we originally planned. It also helps curb my dopamine-fueled habit of browsing sites like SSENSE just because I enjoy online shopping. We ultimately want to really build our retirement funds so we can both retire early and maybe work on some less demanding fun side projects or freelance together in a less structured way than the jobs we have now.

I definitely don’t feel that my husband is removing all joy from my life. I completely agree that a lack of joy would be a huge issue, but that’s not the case here. We do a lot of things together—date nights out, traveling, and sports—and these activities don’t involve submission at all. He’ll usually handle the payments for those occasions. Plus, I regularly go out with my friends to concerts, movies, and other fun events. So, joy is very much a part of my life, just balanced in a way that works for our dynamic.

Thanks again for raising your concerns so thoughtfully. It’s great to have this conversation!

[itaerae]

ooh! I have a request! All day, I kept thinking about Ricky x fem childhood bestfriend reader, 😭 where they were bestfriends when they wer younger and still are now, however, reader has always had this BIG crush on Ricky since they were young, she thinks that he doesn't like her back, BUT SHE DOESN'T KNOW THAT RICKY HASHAD A CRUSH ON HER EVEN BEFORE SHE LIKED HIM, SO LIKE- AHH

(I'm really sorry if this request is really specific TT. Take care and tysm!!)

dear diary 💭💭

pairing: crush!ricky x fem!reader

summary: another cliché childhood best friend turned lovers trope, or is it ? psst, who will spill their harbored secrets first ?

word count: 672

warnings: angst if you squint ! (not proofread)

notes: this was supposed to be posted a week ago, i apologize ᴖ̈ tysm for requesting ! i actually might rewrite this later bc i’m so tired from my concert rn and i feel like this is dookie lol, but for now enjoy this piece of trash !

it was safe to say you and ricky would always be inseparable ! you two have known each other since diapers and clicked well at first sight. however, you both were quite the opposite of each other.

ricky was rather quiet, he preferred to keep to himself in a close-knit friend circle. you on the other hand, obnoxious and outgoing ! you had many people left and right, but none could compare to ricky. maybe because you had a little crush on said blonde boy ?

not surprisingly, many girls on campus admired ricky. who wouldn’t ? you just happened to be one of them, but for the sake of your friendship, you’ve kept it a secret for a decade ! there was no possibility ricky could even like you back anyway, right ?

you were pretty sure he took a liking to some girl in his art class, you’ve caught them laughing and joking together, similarly to how he would with you. it made you feel mixed emotions, one being happy for ricky, the other wishes it was you instead.

today was no different, ricky informed you minutes beforehand that he had to ditch out on lunch with you today. you were upset, but let it slide. besides, you could really catch up with some other friends.

and that’s how you ended up at a table with gyuvin, ollie, and yujin. honestly, it could’ve been worse than this. as always, gyuvin and yujin were fighting and you and ollie would just ignore their little cat fights. you missed eating lunch with ricky, but this wasn’t so bad.

ollie was the sweetest person, he made sure the other two weren’t bothering you so much ! he would have definitely been your crush if ricky was around, the boy was so unintentionally cute ! you found yourself subconsciously pinching his cheeks.

not noticing the pouty blonde boy who was staring from afar, you continued your lunch with the trio. he was getting sour at you pinching ollie’s cheeks, how come you’ve never done that to him ? did you find ollie cuter ? he was dying to know, ignoring the poor girl from his art class.

it’s been a couple of days since you and ricky have talked. you were getting anxious, what if he was replacing you because he’d gotten a girlfriend ? the thoughts were eating away at your sanity.

similarly, ricky had thought you enjoyed hanging out with the trio more, so he made no attempt at contacting you in fear of being an interruption. it was a going cycle of ghosting until finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

the first thing he saw was you and ollie, giggling. he was upset, but brushed it off and continued his way over to you. “___, can we talk ?” his eyes were pleading.

you look at him, and then looked back to ollie with an apologetic face. “i’m sorry ollie, we can continue another time ?” the boy responded with a nod, wriggling his eyebrows. “that’s fine, have fun you two !”

ricky had taken you to some hidden garden at the back of the school. you were awestruck, how come you never knew about this place ? his voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“___, are you and ollie you know.. a thing ?” he asked nervously, rubbing his nape. he looked so cute, you almost started laughing. he noticed and couldn’t help but worry.

“no silly, i’ve actually liked you for a while now but you haven’t seemed to noticed.” you put on a faux grim expression. ricky took the biggest sigh of relief. “you had me so scared, i’ve liked you for a while too you know !” he whined.

“okay, but what happened to that girl in your art class though ? i thought you liked her ?” you wriggled your eyebrows jokingly. “wow, way to ruin the moment, ___.” ricky rolled his eyes.

so dear diary, as always, she fell first, but he fell harder.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Survivor Blues

Part Six: Kitchen Scraps

A/N: I feel like every single one of my author's notes begins with me screaming and apologizing for how long it took me to update the story, so pretend that's what this says. I am very excited to share this part of Survivor Blues because even though there's not a lot of action, it sets up a ton of things to come, and we get a lot more background information on Reader. From the bottom of my heart I hope you all enjoy these kitchen scraps. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: language, mentions of trauma, death, murder, mentions of illness, some angst but hey that comes with the territory

Word Count: 8,454

Summary: Three months into your new life in Jackson, you start to notice some changes. But how much change, and are you sure you're entirely ready for it?

June - 2037 

With the start of your third month in Jackson came a considerable number of changes. 

Your apartment, for example, began to look like someone actually lived there. 

For the first time in nearly a decade, your pack had been unpacked, your belongings given places of permanence instead of just pockets and pouches. The pair of chipped enamel camp mugs now sat side by side in the cabinet over the kitchen sink. Gavin’s stained and threadbare concert tee was folded and put away with the rest of your clothing. A hook next to the front door held your coat by the hood, the key to your place dangling on another one right beside it. The creased and tattered old envelope you’d carried with you for years that held photos and a handful of notes had been emptied and tossed. The notes, mostly from Gavin but a few from Laura and Kyle, as well as a faded old marker drawing your nephew had done for you when he was six years old, were tucked away in your bedside table.

But the photos you chose to display. 

Because they deserve to be seen. Everyday. 

You’d found some old frames in a box in the hall closet a few days after you moved in, but you weren’t ready to use them then. Now one sat atop your dresser, holding the last picture of you and Gavin taken before the outbreak - incredibly youthful faces smushed cheek to grin-split cheek, Gavin’s inked fingers holding up your wrist as you showed off the diamond ring he’d slipped onto your finger only moments before. Your engagement ring had been sold ages ago, back when you were still in the Philadelphia QZ and people still cared enough about things like diamonds to trade medicine for them. But the photo was worth more to you than a rock ever could be. 

And I still have our bands. Even though we never… 

You were never officially married, and since the bands had been hand-me-downs from Gavin’s grandparents and didn’t fit either of your fingers, you’d only ever worn them on chains around your necks. But you knew that never mattered. Not to you, and not to him. Not since the moment that picture had been taken. Not since you’d joyfully exclaimed the word yes when he asked you to be his wife. 

Another frame sat on the T.V. stand in the living room. That one held a picture of you and Laura from the summer before the outbreak, the two of you sitting on the steps outside her building, cups of brightly colored Italian ice in your hands and Kyle’s father’s arm sticking in from out of sight to add bunny ears to his girlfriend’s head. Both of you were laughing at some long since forgotten joke, but you’d always be able to hear the sound of her laughter when you looked at it. 

There was another picture taken that day, one of just Laura and Dante on those same steps. You’d taken it yourself, with Gavin’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind you as he made faces at his sister to get her to laugh. That one you didn’t have anymore, though. You’d left it with Kyle. It was the only photo you had of both of his parents. It was only right that it stay with him. 

The last two photos that you had in your possession were polaroids taken with a camera you’d found during your time at the farm. One of them was of you, Gavin, Laura and a two year old Kyle, the little boy perched on his uncle’s shoulders, the four of you standing in front of the old oak tree that his family had been taking pictures in front of for generations. Ty had been behind the camera that day, not wanting to be caught on film herself but more than happy to capture moments for the rest of you. The other was a candid she’d snapped of just you and Gavin from the same day, your hands linked together and hanging between your bodies and his face turned in your direction. The expression he wore was one of pure adoration as he watched you watching the sunset. Seconds later he was leaning in to press his lips to your temple, kissing a whisper onto your skin. 

“Love you, Sugar.” 

Memories like those didn’t belong in your backpack anymore. If you were going to build a life here, they deserved to be a part of it. 

Because they’re a part of me. 

Those two, because of their unconventional shape, didn’t fit in the 3x5 frames you’d found. But you had another option in the form of your stark white refrigerator door. Using the plain green circular magnet that had been stuck there when you arrived, you tacked up the photo of you and Gavin. The last thing that you pulled from your pack was what you used to hang the other - the rest stop souvenir magnet that Joel had given you the morning after you’d sewn up his arm. 

It was the first “new” thing you’d brought into the apartment since you moved in. The first new item in your collection of trinkets that tied you to moments and people that mattered to you. It scared the shit out of you to admit, but one of the biggest changes you’d gone through since your arrival in Jackson was allowing things to matter again. When Kyle died you thought your ability to feel anything but emptiness had died with him. You thought life, however much more of it you’d be unlucky enough to endure, would be nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other until you physically couldn’t anymore. No more laughter, no more happiness, no more warmth and certainly no more human connection. Just the hollow feeling in your skull and the involuntary drive to carry on. Left, right, left until you marched yourself into the dirt. Or worse.  

But then Joel and Tommy found you in that split-level not far from town and now here you were, with a refrigerator door decorated with things that mattered. 

You wondered if it would ever be as covered up with kitschy clutter as the one in your and Gavin’s tiny apartment. Photobooth strips and postcards, recipes that you wanted to try, either clipped from magazines or scrawled hastily on scraps of paper, a birthday card you’d gotten one year from your friend Dave that was too funny to take down, the test results from Gavin’s blood work that showed improvement after his surgery which he jokingly slapped up calling it his A+ report card. Magnets from trips you’d taken, a promotional one from your favorite dumpling place, stray letters from one of those colorful alphabet sets, objects you’d simply glued a magnetic strip to to turn into a magnet, like the little plastic stingray you found on the floor in the hallway of your building or the cork from the champagne bottle you popped when you moved in. 

Like a scrapbook. 

That was what Gavin used to call it. A memory pushed its way forward from the back of your mind as you stood there looking at your mostly bare by comparison fridge, a moment you hadn’t thought about in what felt like ages. 

Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you scurried from the bathroom to the bedroom, fingers deftly fastening an earring before flipping the strap of your dress to lay it flat against your shoulder. The anxiety of running late and nerves about meeting extended members of Gavin’s family for the first time at his cousin’s wedding popped and jumped like corn kernels in your stomach. As a result, your thoughts tripped over themselves in your head as you stuffed your phone and a tube of lip gloss into a small purse. I still have to sign the card and - shit! The card! We need to stop at an ATM and grab cash for the card! Wait, the place is in Germantown, right?  

“Gav? Where’s the invitation? I need to check -” 

“Hung it on the scrapbook.” He followed you from the bedroom down the short, narrow hall to the kitchen as his slender fingers worked to form the knot in his tie. “Slow down, Shug, we’ve got plenty of time.” You plucked the invite from the collage you called a refrigerator door just as he finished his task, those same long digits now curling around your hips to pull you flush against his long, lean frame. When he spoke again, lips close to your ear and breath warm on your skin, you could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re not gonna be late, don’t you worry.” You closed your eyes as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You look gorgeous.” His murmured compliment made you melt, made the nerves that were just exploding inside you go calm. And then he spoke again and made you snort out a laugh. “Gonna upstage the bride.”

You turned in his arms to see the smile still on his face, his eyes shining softly as he looked at you. You rolled yours playfully, smacking his arm with the invitation as you did to draw a chuckle from his throat. “Oh, stop. I’m sure Maya is gonna be a stunning bride.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, leaning in to nudge the tip of your nose with his. “Just not as stunning as you.” 

You wondered if you would ever again feel even a fraction of what you felt in that nearly forgotten, long buried memory. Like you were floating. Radiating love. Sure of every part of yourself. Safe in the arms and heart of a man who always put you first. Blinking at the expanse of white, powder-coated stamped steel that surrounded the two pictures and two magnets, you decided it was far more likely that you’d fill up that empty space before someone else filled the empty space in your heart. 

But… it’s not entirely impossible. 

Your focus strayed to the Wyoming magnet, a small, soft swell growing in your chest as you remembered the look on Joel’s face when he handed it to you. Maybe it was possible that you could find both here. You scoffed and shook the thought from your head before you took it too far. You knew you were in no shape for anything like that, emotionally speaking. 

The last time you’d been in anything that resembled a relationship had been a little under ten years earlier, just outside the Chicago QZ, and you’d done everything you could to keep it as stunted and strictly physical as possible. A means to an end. A way to release tensions pent up for too long, a way to feel something other than fear or pain or white hot rage or the soul sucking sadness that clawed at your throat most nights. AJ - a tall, muscular smuggler with a deep voice, far away eyes and a teenaged sister he’d shoot you dead to save if it came to that - was happy to agree to those terms. He understood you and your bricked up walls and your need to keep your broken heart behind them. He understood those things without you ever saying them because he was doing the same thing. 

It lasted three months before he ruined it by offering you more. 

“You know, Gia and I are thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’ Chicago,” he told you one night in the upstairs bedroom of the stash house he let you and your family stay in while Laura rested a badly sprained ankle. In exchange, you kept his cache of smuggled goods protected from raiders. The fucking had just been a mutual bonus. “QZ’s goin’ to shit. Think it’s time we get out for good.” 

You balked instantly at the casual way he dropped his future plans on you. Your clothes were still strewn on the floor, your bare skin still pressed to his. You were too exposed for that kind of intimacy. Shifting away from his hold you felt yourself shutdown, an icy flush running through your veins to kill whatever warmth AJ had managed to put there before he spoke. 

“Oh?” Your voice came out flat as you sat up and reached for your shirt. 

The man in the bed behind you cleared the gravel from his throat and sat up, too. “Yeah.” His large palm landed too gently on your shoulder blade, and you knew he felt it when you flinched at the sweep of his thumb, but he kept going anyway. “I was thinking maybe you’d wanna come with us.” He leaned forward and broke another rule, brushing a stubble-studded kiss to your spine. “You and Kyle and Laura, of course.” 

You stood, putting more distance between you so he couldn’t feel the way your heart was banging on your ribs, telling you it was time to pull up stakes and go. Yanking the shirt over your head, you looked at him with empty eyes and a slight shake of your head. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” You arched one eyebrow and shrugged. “That’s not what this is.” You took another step, bending down to pick up the rest of your clothes so that you could seal yourself away from him. 

He let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh and you heard the bed springs creak as he got up. “It could be,” he answered, reaching for your wrist in an attempt to slow you down, reel you back in, try to coax you into agreeing to let this thing between you go from bare bones and scraps to something more fleshed out and filling. You shook off his loose grip and finished getting dressed despite the click of his tongue and the low murmur of your name. “You could let it be. We can keep each other safe. I can keep you safe, and-“  

A humorless laugh escaped your lips then. “If you think I need you to keep me safe, then you don’t know a goddamn thing about me.” You shoved your feet into your boots and laced them up tight. 

“I know you don’t need it, but-” 

Wheeling on him, you cut him off. “You know what, AJ? I think this has run its course. Laura’s ankle is healed, so-“ You hardened your features against the way his face fell. “We’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” 

And you were.

AJ had tried one more time to get you to stay. One more time to tell you that he wanted you in his hair, that he wanted you in his life. But that would mean him becoming a part of yours. That would mean Gia becoming a part of yours. That would mean two more people to anchor yourself to. Two more people for you to protect. Two more people to weave themselves into the fabric of your heart, and two more people you could potentially lose, causing that fabric to tear in two more places. You’d already worn yourself ragged with responsibility and loss. You weren’t looking for more. AJ was a good man. He could have been good for you. The timing was just wrong. 

But you were safe now. There was no reason to run from companionship or intimacy now. That didn’t mean it would be easy, though. 

Like that’s ever stopped you before, you could hear Gavin tease, a smirk on his face. 

It hadn’t. You had never been one to back down simply because the task at hand might be difficult. You moved out on your own for the first time with only what you could fit in your car. You took your first kitchen job without a lick of experience. You fell head over heels in love with a man with a heart defect, knowing full and well that any chance at forever with him could be cut short by his condition and diving in anyway. Easy wasn’t really in your playbook. 

Again, it was Joel’s face that came to mind. You had no real idea what his story was when it came to relationships, you only knew that he wasn’t currently in one. And with the way you had heard some women in town speak about him when they thought only their closest friends could hear, you gathered that it was by choice. That it wasn’t something he was looking for. 

And though you were almost afraid to admit it even to yourself, a part of you already hoped that you were wrong about that. 

Another change came in the way that you interacted with people in town. For starters, you’d stopped outright avoiding eye contact and dodging conversation when walking to and from your apartment. When people came into the bakery, you smiled and found yourself chatting about things you used to talk to your customers about before the outbreak. 

“Morning, Heather! How was Kaylee’s birthday? Did she like the cupcakes?” 

“Hi, Marty. Didn’t see you yesterday when they were fresh, but I saved you some corn muffins. I know they’re Carl’s favorite.” 

“Hey Nadia, you live next to Allie and Greg, right? How are they doing with the new baby? Can you drop their order off to them on your way home?”

On patrols and trail sweeps you picked up where you left off on topics you’d previously spoken to your partners about. It was never anything truly personal aside from when you were paired with a woman named Jo who still spoke with an unmistakable Pennsylvanian accent, and you shared that you were from Philly. In an extreme case of it’s a small world afterall, she turned out to be from Glenside, a suburb just a few SEPTA stops away. The two of you had spent that shift - an overnight gate patrol - talking about restaurants, bars and other places you missed in the city. Typically you talked about books or movies or music, trading recommendations or trying to recall lyrics to songs you hadn’t heard in decades. Sometimes, like when you were paired with Jesse or one of the other younger volunteers, you brought up a movie they hadn’t heard of and you ended up summarizing or explaining it to them. Like some kind of post-apocalyptic storytime. The Tale of The Men in Black. The Saga of The Breakfast Club. The Epic of Empire Records. 

It never strayed into “opening up” territory, but you were refamiliarizing yourself with being a person again, and not just trying to stay alive for another 24 hour block of time. You were still hesitant to attend one of the Friday night gatherings at the Tipsy Bison, but you had started to eat one or two meals a week in the communal dining hall. You’d sit with people you knew and felt the most comfortable with - Evelyn from the bakery, Tommy and Maria when you saw them, Eugene or Henrik if they waved you over. You rarely saw Joel there but sometimes you caught a glimpse of Ellie surrounded by some of the other teens. You still spent most of your nights alone in your home - cooking small meals for yourself, reading, sewing patches or buttons onto things as needed - but you were trying, and that was new. 

Despite all that had changed though, some things unfortunately remained the same. The nightmares, for example, had proven far more stubborn than your crumbling resolve to not form attachments. They still woke you up every few nights, your breaths coming in greedy gasps as you worked to convince yourself that you were safe in your bed in Jackson and not tearing through the dark woods with a twelve year old Kyle’s hand clamped in your own, a pack of hunters hot on your trail. Or that Gavin hadn’t met a horrific end at the snapping jaws of a horde of infected. Or that those men hadn’t caught you in that warehouse in Kentucky and kept you chained to a mattress in a back room.

But it wasn’t the close call and what if nightmares that were the worst of them. Not by a long shot. The darkest dreams you fell victim to weren’t conjured by your fears or anxieties. They came straight from your actions and experiences. They weren’t dreams at all, just memories played back in excruciatingly high definition. Memories of the worst things you’d ever done. Reminders that you might not deserve this new lease on life. Portals to places where you’d committed the unthinkable. 

Places like that waterlogged and overgrown Walgreens where you crossed the line for the first time - where you became a murderer, taking the life of a human being who wasn’t infected. Who wasn’t even a threat to you. Your mind would floor with details from that fateful day. The squish of the moss covered floor tiles beneath your boots. The odor of rust and mildew that permeated the air. The rustle of things being knocked off a shelf and the terrified hiss of “oh, shit!” that followed. The tilt of your head as you took in the sight of the bottle gripped tightly in the dirty-fingered grasp of the woman, identifying it as the exact drug that you needed. That Gavin needed to stay alive. The way she pleaded with you on behalf of her sick son. “Please, he’s only twelve. He’ll die without them. I’ll split them with you!” The way you didn’t even blink as you shot her dead. The maraca rattle of the pills as you pried the bottle from her hand. The way that shot rang in your ears until you made it back to the farm. 

It vibrated in your lungs, even in the dreams. And when you handed the medicine to Gavin, it was written on your face clear as day for him to read. You’d told him what you’d done, waves of nausea roiling through your belly and adrenaline coursing through your blood to make your hands shake and your breathing turn to sobs and gasps. “Oh, Sugar,” he’d said, opening his arms to wrap you in them, pulling you closer to the weakening, uneven beat of his heart. “Don’t lose yourself over me.” Your hot tears soaked into the old, stained concert tee that hung baggy and loose on his frame as you clutched fistfuls of material. “It’s not worth the toll.” 

You’d tried to argue with him then, because to you, anything was worth it if it meant more time with him. Another year, another few months, fuck, even if it only bought you mere days there was nothing you weren’t willing to do for Gavin. “We both know you can’t buy me much longer,” he said, speaking calmly as he stroked his long, tattooed fingers up and down your spine. “Don’t turn yourself into something you’re not. Stay you, Sugar. Stay you and stay with me.”

In the end though, it was him that couldn’t stay, and that particular nightmare would always end with you sobbing into your pillow. Alone.  

More recently your nightmares took you to that grimey hotel room where you helped Kyle end his life. Where you killed him, your subconscious would remind you. Details you didn’t even realize you’d absorbed would come leaching out once you were asleep. The feel of the dust encrusted carpet against your sweaty, blood soaked palm. The pocked and peeling paint flaking from the walls and piling up in little heaps. The icy draft that came through the broken window to freeze the tears in your eyes. The way your nephew suddenly became so heavy as you held him. And that nagging, illogical thought that burrowed itself into the center of your brain and slammed every cell like a cymbal - He could have been immune. You don’t know that he wasn’t. 

There had always been rumors about the possibility of natural immunity to the Cordyceps infection. You’d heard the whispers whenever you moved through a place that had or previously had a Firefly presence. Genetic mutations are always possible, they’d posit. You’d always rolled your eyes and called it a hopeless hope, a pipe dream. Just something that desperate people told themselves so they could justify what they’d done or give themselves motivation to keep going. Everyone you’d ever known to be infected had turned within a day or two. You weren’t holding your breath for a miracle mutation. 

And even though it was one of the rules you and your family had written for yourselves decades ago, and even though it was what Kyle wanted, and even though you still thought it was easier than having to see your sweet, smart, funny, thoughtful nephew become a snapping, snarling monster, that thought still reverberated in your mind whenever that dream woke you up. He could have been immune. But now you’ll never know. 

There were others, too, but those were the ones that came most frequently. Those were the ones that the firewalls in your sleeping brain had no chance against, the ones there was no falling back to sleep after. 

On those nights you woke shaken and shaking, pulling yourself from the bed and turning lights on as quickly as possible to banish the things that crept into your mind. On those nights you didn’t try to find sleep again, knowing that the ache in your heart and the spike in your adrenaline wouldn’t let you. Instead you’d pad into the kitchen and do what you’d always done when you couldn’t sleep - open the cabinets and preheat the oven and bake something to take your mind off of whatever had just taken over it. 

In college, before you’d dropped out, it was blueberry muffins to distract yourself from the stress of exams. You’d bake dozens of them and give them to your friends as study fuel. On the nights following Gavin’s open heart surgery it was rye bread and cinnamon buns. You’d take them with you to the hospital when you visited him, giving them - along with your unending gratitude - to the nursing staff and doctors that worked on him. At the farm when you worried that you wouldn’t be able to keep your family safe it was potato rolls. And for the few months that you stayed in the Chicago QZ it was a modified oatmeal cookie recipe that tasted more like sugarless styrofoam due to the lack of certain ingredients, but bless their hearts, Laura and Kyle still told you they were delicious. 

Three months into your stay in Jackson, at six in the morning on your weekly day off, it was sourdough and carrot cake muffins. 

By ten o’clock you’d finished baking three loaves of bread - two of which you were planning to take to the community center to be used for meals that day - and were just getting started peeling carrots for the muffins, when there was a knock at your door. 

And as you crossed the room to answer it, wiping your hands on the dish towel that hung over your shoulder, you noticed another change - you hadn’t reached for the knife in your boot. You hadn’t even put your boots on that morning, your feet still only covered by the socks you yanked on before coming out to the kitchen. Your heart didn’t start to race. Your fingers hadn’t even twitched. You’d just heard the sound and moved to respond to it like it was normal. Like you would have before the outbreak. 

Like I would have back at home. 

Unwilling to have that conversation with yourself while someone stood waiting outside your door, you shook your head to clear your thoughts. Not now. Peeking through the view hole, you actually smiled as you saw who was on the other side. I wonder what… 

You unlocked the door and opened it. “Hey, good morning, Ellie. What are you up to? Everything alright?” 

She groaned in dramatic teenage fashion. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Except for the fact that I’m dying of boredom with these lame shifts Maria put me on this week.” 

Maria tried to keep the younger volunteers busy with tasks in the town or on the walls as often as possible, only sending them out when the schedule demanded it to relieve other patrol members, and it seemed that was what had brought Ellie to your apartment. Good. Boring is good and safe. I’m sure Joel loves boring for you, kid. 

“Oh yeah? What’s she got you doing today that’s so terrible?” 

“Compost duty.” She held up a metal pail that you hadn’t noticed at first, nose wrinkled and top lip curled. “I’m here for your rotten vegetables.”   

You let out a laugh in the form of a snort, pushing the door to open it wider. “Well they’re not rotten yet, which is kind of the point, but they’re all yours. Come on in. I’ll grab the jar, it’s in the fridge.”

Closing the door behind herself, Ellie followed you through the small living room towards the kitchen. “Ugh, it smells fucking amazing in here. Are you baking? Even on your day off? Jesus, what time did you wake up?”

You shrugged and looked back over your shoulder at her. “Yeah. You caught me.” You pointed to the counter where the loaves of sourdough sat cooling, moving aside so she could see them. “That’s what you’re smelling.” 

She groaned and slumped against the doorframe. “Oh my god those look so good. It’s making me hungry.” 

Laughing again, you pulled a serrated knife from the block on the counter. “You want a slice?” 

Her eyes lit up as she stood straight. “Are you kidding? Hell yeah I do!” You smiled and turned to saw off a hunk, the knife’s teeth scraping at the thick outer crust before sinking into the soft center. “You know, nothing against Todd or Evelyn, but the bread from the bakery is so much better now that you’re working there.” 

You chuckled, letting her compliment wash warmly over you. “Thanks, Ellie, I take my bread seriously so that means a lot to me.” You handed over the slice and she immediately took a bite. 

“Fuck,” she groaned through a mouthful, eyes rolling closed as she chewed. “So damn good!” 

“Good.” You wiped the blade off and sheathed it in the block again. “I haven't tried it yet, so thanks for helping out with quality assurance.” 

“Literally anytime,” she said around another bite. 

You smiled and already it was hard to imagine that you’d started that morning shaking and in tears. “Hey, if you’re not in a rush I’ll have even more to throw in your compost bucket if you can wait until I peel these carrots?” Picking up the peeler, you used it to gesture to the pile of vegetables on the cutting board. 

She shrugged. “No rush. Peel away.” You nodded and went to work as Ellie leaned against the countertop on the other side of the sink. “So, can I ask you a question?” 

You took a breath and considered the kind of question she might ask. “Um… sure.” 

“You were a baker, like… before, right? That’s what Joel said, and I mean -” She held up the remainder of the sourdough slice as proof. 

“I was.” You answered. “Had my own shop and everything.” 

“Okay, so then… How did you not… I mean, fuck, how do I ask this?” 

Turning in her direction you took a wild guess to help her out of her struggle. “How did I not become infected immediately since the initial cordyceps contamination was spread through flour?” 

She held up one finger, slightly gaping mouth snapping shut. “Yes, exactly.” 

You chuckled and went back to the carrots. “Mine was a little different from a regular bakery. I specialized in baking things for people with common food allergies. Eggs, wheat, dairy, things like that. So the flour I used came from a completely different source than…” You trailed off because you knew she got the picture. 

“Huh. Do you have allergies? Is that why you decided to bake like that?” 

You shook your head. “No, I don’t. I had…” You swallowed. “I knew people who couldn’t eat certain things, so I did it for them.” 

“Well…” She raised one scarred eyebrow. “I guess that was a good choice.” 

Snorting, you nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.��� 

She pushed away from the counter and stepped closer to the refrigerator, her head tilting slightly to one side as something there caught her eye. The pictures. She’s looking at… Your grip on the peeler tightened, a pulse of panic seizing you at the thought that you might have to talk about your family. That was something you hadn’t done in a long time, something that you were still just on the cusp of readiness for. Hanging the photos up for your own eyes to see was one thing. You hadn’t thought about the prospect of others in your home seeing them, too. She’s gonna ask about- 

“Hey, Joel has this same magnet.” Reaching out with her pointer finger, she tapped the one shaped like your new home state. 

He… What? You let out a breath and set the peeler on the cutting board next to the pile of long orange carrot skin curls. The flash of panic turned to flurried confusion, Ellie’s comment catching you completely off guard. He took one, too? Clearing your throat, you prepared to respond when she spoke again, this time throwing something that looked like a smirk over her shoulder at you. 

“What, were they on sale or something?” She tapped it again. “Buy one, get one- Oh, shit!” 

The press of her finger must have shifted the magnet, freeing it from the pull that held it in place. You watched as she whipped her head back around and scrambled to try to catch not only the dislodged magnet, but also the picture that was stuck beneath it. She was only successful in saving one from the ground, though, juggling the plastic piece between both hands before closing it in one fist while the polaroid fluttered to the floor. Crouching down she snatched the picture up and reattached it to the door. 

“Fuck! I’m sorry! It- I didn’t mean to…” 

It was then, as she carefully put the photo back in its place, that you noticed the recognition on her face. Like she hadn’t even really seen the picture until that moment, hadn’t noticed anything beyond the familiar magnet. She went quiet, a sadness you wished she didn’t have to know creeping into her expression as she realized that none of the people standing next to you in the photo were there in Jackson with you now. 

“Is this your family?” There was a hollow tone in her typically light and bubbly voice as she stared at the smiling faces on your refrigerator. Like she didn’t want to ask but felt some compulsion to know. Like she already knew but couldn’t keep the question on her tongue. Like she should have been able to do something to change the outcomes for the people you’d lost. 

You recognized it right away and it broke your heart to see it in her, too. The guilt. The deep dark blues of surviving when everyone you loved was gone. When everyone everyone loved was gone. Oh, Ellie. 

Though only moments before you felt panic at the prospect of talking about the people you lost, suddenly, when asked, you were filled with an overwhelming urge to tell her about them. To show her - and maybe yourself, too - that not every memory hurt. That most of them didn’t. 

“Yeah,” you answered around a bittersweet smile. “It is. From about…” You hummed. “Fifteen years ago.” Wetting your lips and blinking back the stinging threat of tears, you stepped closer to where the girl stood. “That’s my-” 

You stopped yourself because you didn’t want to choke on the word you were about to use. You’d never had to explain to anyone who Gavin was to you. For years, the only people who mattered had simply always known. But that’s not the case anymore, is it? Not if you truly were serious about trying to have a life here. Left hand coming up to touch the outline of your chain through your t-shirt, you took a breath and focused on his smile in the photo. Hey, handsome. 

You cleared your throat and started over. “That’s my husband, Gavin.” You pressed the rings to your chest as you spoke his name. “And his sister, Laura.” Dropping your arm back to your side, you raised the opposite one to point at the little boy under the mess of curls that sat perched on Gavin’s shoulders. “And that’s Kyle, my nephew.” 

She stayed quiet for a few seconds, looking at the faces of the people you’d just introduced her to as though committing them to memory. “They look…” She sniffed. “You all look happy there.” 

She’s right. Despite the thick knot forming in your throat, you smiled. “Yeah.” Nodding, you looked down at her. “We were. Those were really good years.” 

The girl looked back up at you, lips pulling to the side before curving back into a small smile. “I’m glad you had those.” 

You took a breath, feeling somewhat lighter than you had in a long time even if it was a bittersweet lightness. “Yeah, me too.” Wetting your lips, you reached for the fridge handle. “Um, let me get those compost scraps for you, yeah?”  

Ellie nodded, lifting one hand up to wipe quickly at her eye. “Yeah. I should get going.” She moved over to the counter and scooped your pile of carrot peels into the bucket, then turned back to let you dump the contents of your scrap jar in as well. “Dina and I are supposed to hit all the apartments on this side of town before noon, so…” 

“So you better get moving, then,” you finished for her. “If I remember the schedule correctly, I think you and I have gate patrol on Wednesday night.” You winked. “I’ll make sure to bring snacks.” 

She grinned, almost all of the sadness that had crept into her expression gone. “You’re the best.” 

That made you laugh. “I’ll see you around, Ellie. Tell Dina I said hi.” 

She told you that she would, adding that she was also going to tell her that she missed out on the best damn sourdough left in the world by choosing odd numbered apartments, which only made you laugh harder. Closing your door after her, you couldn’t help but think of what a kick Gavin would have gotten out of Ellie. She would have made you laugh, too, Gav. 

Over the next hour you finished up the batch of muffins and cleaned the kitchen. Wrapping the two extra loaves in clean dish towels, you stuck them both in the canvas tote bag that you usually used to pick up your groceries from the general store. Once they’d cooled enough to handle, you did the same with the muffins, bundling them up and adding them to the bag. 

That done, you decided to get yourself together, changing your flour streaked shirt for a fresh three-quarter sleeved one, and the sweats you were wearing for a pair of jeans. When you looked in the mirror you were hit by yet another change - you no longer had that lost, wild, withering look that you arrived with. Your eyes had more light in them and fewer bags beneath. Your cheeks were less hollow and the windburn on them was healing well. You looked more like yourself and less like a spectral waif using your name than you had in longer than you could remember. Not that it matters but… Your lips - no longer peeling and chapped - hitched into a small grin. Not terrible. You took a second to adjust your hair, tucking stray pieces into place, and then flipped the lightswitch and left the bathroom. 

Grabbing your bag of baked goods from the kitchen, you shoved your feet into your boots and slipped your knife into place. Some things were unlikely to change after two decades of always needing to have a weapon on you, and you knew that it was the same for many other residents in town. Your gun, though, was left behind with your pack. Those items were reserved only for patrols, trail sweeps and supply runs. They had no place in your daily life anymore. Another small change. 

There was still a lingering late spring chill in the air as you stepped outside your building, but the sun was shining unimpeded in the clear blue sky and you hummed as it warmed your skin. It’s beautiful out today. As you turned onto the main street you were met with the sounds of the town. Windchimes and laughter, barking dogs and the clang of metal on metal from the blacksmith’s shop, birdsong and conversation. It felt like the much more rural version of strolling through your neighborhood in Philly on your way to the farmer’s market that used to pop up in the park on Thursday and Sunday mornings. It made you wonder what it was like here twenty some years ago, and how different things were now. 

The call of your name from somewhere to your right interrupted your thoughts before they could wander too far. You recognized the voice as you turned, eyes widening in surprise to see Joel Miller lifting one hand in greeting from the other side of the street. Oh. Hi. You stopped walking, raising your hand in a return wave and waiting for him to cross to your side.

As he did, you took a few seconds to let your eyes rake over him. He still wore a thin white bandage around his bicep, and it was visible beneath the short sleeves of his faded green t-shirt. As were his muscled arms, the warmer weather letting you see more of them than you had previously. His jeans were worn in but fit him well, the denim broken in to accommodate his movement perfectly. A toolbelt hung at his hips, hammer, tape measure, pliers and several screwdrivers attached to the loops or sticking out of the pouches. Right. He said he was in construction. You drew in a small breath as he came close enough that you could see the sunlight catching the silver in his hair. And then he smiled. Damn. 

“Thought that was you,” he said as he took the last few steps to close the distance. 

Forcing yourself to focus on the conversation at hand and not on how good he looked wearing a toolbelt, you smiled back at him. “You were right, it’s me.” 

That earned you a small chuckle, Joel raising the same hand he’d flagged you down with to scratch at the back of his neck. “How are you doin’ today?”

You tipped your head back, closing your eyes and letting the sun hit your face before responding. “The sun is out and I have a bag full of bread and muffins.” Bringing your chin back down, you shrugged the shoulder that your bag was on. “So I’m doing great.” He didn’t need to hear about the nightmare that preceded the baking. “How are you?” 

“A bag full of bread, huh?” He dropped his eyes to the goods and then brought them back up to yours. “Well I’m doin’ alright but not a bag of bread alright.” 

You laughed and pulled one strap of the tote bag down, reaching inside. “I might be able to help with that.” Pulling out one of the muffins, you offered it to him. “Carrot muffin?” 

He grinned as he took it from you. “If I ever say no to that question you’ll know there’s somethin’ wrong with me.” Nodding, he held your eyes for a second and the rush of warmth you felt had nothing to do with the sun. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You cleared your throat and tilted your head in the direction you’d been walking in. “I was on my way to drop this off at the community center. Are you heading that way, too?” 

“I am. Meetin’ up with Tommy’n a few others to do some roof repairs.” You both started walking again, once your mutual destination was established. “Figure by now we won’t be gettin’ anymore snow, so it’s a good time to get up there and poke around.” 

You blew out a huff and shook your head. “The idea of snow in June or even April or May where I’m from is laughable. It’s probably 85 degrees in Philadelphia right now.” 

Joel made a similar sound. “Snow at all is laughable where I’m from.” You figured he was from somewhere in the south due to the slight drawl in certain words that he said, but before you got the chance to ask where exactly, he took a bite of the muffin you gave him and groaned at the taste. “Christ, that’s good.” 

Hoping you didn’t look as flustered as the sound of him groaning like that made you feel, you managed a smile. “Yeah?” He nodded, eyebrows drawn together in a serious expression as he chewed. “Good. You and Ellie make good taste testers, you know.” He tilted his head in question. “She stopped by my place this morning on her compost collection rounds.” 

“Uh huh, and she weaseled baked goods outta you, did she?” He took another bite, the reaction smaller this time but still visible and still making your chest puff up just a little. 

You shrugged. “She said she was hungry and she complimented my bread. What was I supposed to do?” 

“That girl is always hungry,” he said with a roll of his eyes that you could tell was just for show. “And if compliments are all it takes then let me tell you again, this-” He held up the last bite of muffin. “- Is delicious.” 

Letting a small laugh slip through your grin as you reached the community center, you turned to face him. “Well, thank you. If you like those, just wait until I get my hands on some apples or chokeberries.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” 

Just then Tommy appeared from behind the building with a ladder hoisted on one shoulder. He lifted his free hand to flag Joel down, calling out to him. “Waitin’ on you, big brother!” 

Joel clicked his tongue and turned to lob his response in Tommy’s direction. “Hold your horses, will you?” He gestured at you with his hand. “Can’t you see I’m havin’ a conversation?” 

“Yeah, I see.” The younger Miller tipped his chin in a nod and said your name. “Hope you’re havin’ a nice mornin’. Can you please send my brother up to the roof when he’s done yappin’ your ear off?” 

You laughed at that, Joel’s grumbles only making you laugh harder. “Will do, Tommy,” you said with a wave of your own. 

He grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. Take care now.” 

You called a “You too!” back at him as he disappeared behind the building again, and then you turned to face Joel once more. “Sounds like you’re needed on the roof.” 

Joel blew a huff through his nose and swatted his hand towards the roof. “He can wait a minute. I, uh…” He drew his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask you if you’d want to come over for dinner some night this week.” What? He dropped his hand to his side again and you tried your hardest not to let the shock you felt at his question show on your face. “Just as a thank you for stitchin’ me up,” he added. 

You blinked and took a breath, trying to process the offer he’d just made. Dinner. He’s inviting me to dinner? What is…  “I…” You shook your head as though your brain was a magic eight ball and shaking it would prompt a valid response to come out of your mouth, but immediately regretted it from the way Joel’s lips turned downward. Shit, he thinks I’m saying no. “That… That sounds nice, Joel.” Your heart hammered at your ribs as his frown faded back into a relaxed smile. “What um… What day were you thinking? I have a gate patrol Wednesday night, but-” 

“How’s Thursday, then?” 

Wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, you swallowed and nodded slowly. “Thursday works.” Joel’s smile spread a little wider, sending his cheeks up into his eyes and making the skin around them crinkle. “Can I bring anything, or-” 

“Well I was raised to say no ma’am, just bring yourself,” he began, a mischievous glint brightening the depths of his eyes. “But I wouldn’t stop you from bringing something that you baked if you wanted to.” 

You let out a small laugh. “Got it.” 

“Alright then. Thursday it is.” He tilted his head towards the back of the community center, where the sound of the ladder being set up against the wall could be heard. “I better get up there ‘fore he has himself a conniption. You have a good day now.” 

As he turned to go, you reached into your tote bag and pulled out another muffin. “Joel!” He spun back to face you and you tossed the muffin in his direction, leaving him to scramble to catch it in one large hand. “For Tommy. Maybe he’ll be less annoyed at you if you bring him food.” 

He chuckled. “Maybe. See you around.” 

With that he headed off to join his brother and you were left momentarily standing there unsure of what had just happened. I just… He just… 

But then you heard the call of your name from the open door of the community center, and turned to see Maria grinning at you. “You comin’ in, or are you just going to watch my brother-in-law walk away?” 

You could feel the heat spread through your cheeks at her words, and quickly stepped toward the door as she started to chuckle. “Sorry, yeah, I-” 

“Hey,” she said, resting one hand on your shoulder. “I’m teasing.” She winked. “Besides, I think it’s great.” 

You let out a sigh. “Maria, it’s just-” 

“Just dinner, I know.” She nodded and held the door open for you to walk through it. “I still think it’s great.” The door clicked shut behind you and you sputtered for a response only for her to spare you the need to say anything more. “Anyway, what’s in the bag? You’re just in time for lunch prep.”

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[raydom-gamer]

Okay this is just a general obey me thought.

There's little spoilers in here but most of it is just common knowledge and stories about Mammon, it's just about a demon and his crows.

Am I the only one who finds it interesting that Mammon the Avatar of greed his familiar is a crow. I always just thought it was kind of funny because crows being notorious for liking shiny objects, Mammon notorious for stealing shiny possessions. But today I learned that crows are kind of a pack mentality. If a crow is deemed too greedy or selfish the rest of the crows will actually peck and shun the greedy crow. Which sounds very similar to when his brother is watch him tied up and hung from the ceiling. They point and laugh at him.

Crows are also notorious for getting items for other members of their murder when they suspect others being sad or stressed. I've only seen two examples of Mammon doing this which was when he thought Leviathan didn't win his concert tickets so he spent money on a cheap pin of one of Leviathan's new favorite anime. The other time being Beelzebub spending extra time on practice for his team, Mammon unprompted showed up and brought his little brother some extra snacks to get him through practice.

Crows are deemed some of the smartest animals in the world and their intelligence are considered on par with chimpanzees. Despite Mammon having very low grades in R.A.D., there's a card (in shall we date) that proves that he's actually very intelligent (especially in math) it's just you have to give him the right motivation to use it.

Crows are also notorious for holding grudges for generations. Mammon still complains about what some witches that he hasn't seen in a couple decades made him do because he requested money for them and they requested his services, only for them to give him stupid tasks. (Mostly because he was running away from his debt.) As well as being still upset about the time Leviathan broke into his room to steal a figurine that Mammon won at random.

Crows are also known to mate for life which is why they tend to be very rude and picky about partners even though some crows can be quite promiscuous and mate with other crows outside of their pairing. This could explain why he enjoys the attention but pushes it away most of the time because he has high standards. Of course that immediately changes when he sees MC giving someone else attention. He gets kind of snippety and territorial over MC by claiming that he is there first but is known to forgive MC in the end.

Crows are also known to steal other birds eggs or fledglings most of the time for food but also to study different birds behaviors. Other times is when the crows own eggs or fledglings have been killed and adopt other birds as their offspring. I know technically Mammon did not steal the child or adopt the child but he does send money to some witches to take care of a human orphan child that grew emotionally attached to him. Chances are the witches are going to use Mammon as a sponge to get as much money as they can from him. He's also been caught multiple times taking care of Luke like a little brother.

Crows have mob behavior and tend to harass bigger predators in order to take down the foe or to steal from it. Very similar to when Mammon convinces Leviathan, Beelzebub and MC to try to steal from Lucifer only to then have to take on Cerberus. Most of mamons ideas usually involve him convincing his brothers (not Lucifer) and MC into helping him with one of his scams.

I could keep going on and on by just Crow facts that I've learned today. It just really cracks me up to think about his behavior and realize that he acts very much like his familiar. Obviously there's some big differences in certain behaviors compared to crows but it makes me wonder if the DMs had taken in fact about crows and tried to humanize them so they could make a Baseline for certain behaviors.

After all we can all agree that Lucifer acts very much like a peacock. So I guess it shouldn't be all that shocking on how much Mammon behaves like a crow.

[allamericansbitch]

so i think i finally figured out what exactly put me off taylor, and it wasn't the politics (or lack of it) or generally how she's been since midnights released. i think it's the basic fact that she's stopped being/feeling like she is a musician. like i know she's doing the tour, obviously, but nothing about her including the tour has felt like it's about her work.

for instance i see artists of her generation and even newer ones do your staple few things after they've released new music: you do SNL maybe, maybe a tiny desk concert, maybe BBC live radio, maybe some smaller/closed door live gigs and live performance videos on your YouTube, maybe you speak with Genius or Apple Music like Hozier did about your process. just tiny things that speak about your music and what is after all your day job.

instead what i recall and what i've seen taylor do since midnights came out (or arguably since the red re-recording came out) is simply her go to jimmy fallon or whatever and basically rehash the same lines about the album, or release a hundred combinations and versions of the same thing for people to buy. and this isn't even half the reason why we see her face plastered everywhere: a bulk of it is pap walks, tabloid-y speculation which generally makes me go what even are you now

and i just feel like this is such a wasted opportunity to do more with her music. the last bit of creativity in this sense that i can think of is the folklore long pond studio sessions: they gave her a chance to talk about making the album, and they also added a different texture to the songs themselves.

wow this is actually such a good observation. she really doesnt promote her music anymore, but she does promote her personal life. (and i know shes on tour, but she has the week off in between, she can do an interview over the phone during lunch one of those days off you know) the TIME interview was the perfect example, i would have loved to know what the re-recording process was like from the beginning, if it changes with each album, what she approaches first, how tour affects the re-recordings, etc... but instead we got a good chunk of her and her current partner. i would have loved to see it focus in on her as an artists rather than her personal life.

and if we take the only artist i can think of that doesnt really do promo but is currently releasing music, that's beyonce (not comparing them as artist dont worry), but beyonce is so different from taylor. they both are selling entirely different things. taylor sells relatability, writes about human emotion for the everyday person. she built a good percentage of her career off of relating to people and building a community of people feeling like they personally can relate to her and she can relate to them. beyonce doesnt offer any of that, she sells the fantasy, an escape. her releasing an album and never really promoting it makes sense, her art doesnt thrive off of relatability and feeling like the everyday person. taylors does.

nothing about taylor is about the music anymore. and when it is, it's 'fans' asking for more of it, then getting it, then wanting more. and when we get it- the longest, most intense discussions are about the person they're supposedly about and people creating an entire story surrounding it... not once admiring the song itself and her work. and thats probably why it feels so exhausting, every conversation is stale and tasteless if you're someone who doesnt care about her personal life. it's just the same gossip over and over again and a lot of its been being discussed for over a decade.

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too Part 11

It will be slower going from here on in as this the last completed chapter I have and the next one only has a couple hundred words.

But we are now at the concert.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

*

Dinner was lovely and the talk was easy. They finished and again Steve went to pay only to be told that all meals and drinks were to be put on Ozzy Osbourne’s tab and to not worry about it.

Steve and Eddie shared shocked glances but told the waiter to pass on their gratitude to Ozzy and the waiter nodded.

They went back up to their room and got ready to go. Eddie looked fantastic in his ripped black jeans, band shirt with the sleeves cut off and his gleaming white sneaks.

Steve tapped his lip thoughtfully. “It’s missing something.”

Eddie shrugged. “Well unless you happen to have my battle vest hidden around here somewhere, it’s going to have to do.”

Steve grinned. “Well, I do. But you’re not getting it back. It’s mine now.”

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock. “You have it?”

Steve nodded and pulled it out to show him. Eddie ran his fingers on the soft denim.

“Dustin’s mom helped me get it clean.”

Eddie let out a shuddered breath. “I’m so glad it’s safe. But you’re right, baby. I gave it to you. It’s yours.”

He handed it back to Steve, who set it on the bed. He went to his luggage and pulled out a single white package with a black ribbon. He handed it to Eddie.

“I couldn’t let you go to the most metal concert of the decade without a battle vest,” Steve said with a smile, “now could I?”

Eddie looked down at the box in awe. He looked up at Steve, tears starting to form on his long black lashes.

“Go on, then,” Steve murmured.

Eddie nodded and pulled on the ribbon, causing it to come undone. He lifted the lid and gasped. Instead of the light blue denim of the vest he had made, this one was black acid washed, giving the seams an almost yellow look to them. The front was decorated with the badges and pins of his favorite bands.

“Steve...” he croaked. “I can’t...”

Steve smiled. “The best part is on the back.”

Eddie turned it around and the most pitiful noise escaped him. The tears started running down his face like a storm.

Steve hurried to his side. “Is it okay? I mean...Jeff said you would love it. I didn’t fuck up did I?”

Eddie shook his head. “Is he the one that gave you the shirt to cut up?”

Steve nodded. “He said it was one of the test shirts that the front got messed up on and could be happily destroyed to use for this.”

Eddie placed the vest on his lap and ran his fingers over the name “Corroded Coffin.” He was going to be going to the biggest metal concert with his band’s name on his back. He lunged at Steve giving him the biggest hug.

“I don’t think you can top this, man,” Eddie said into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve pulled Eddie onto his lap and held him tightly. “Maybe not, but there is so much more coming, sunshine. You aren’t going to have much of a mind left by the time the night is over.”

Eddie nodded and kissed him gently. “I love you, babe.”

Steve expression turned soft. “I love you, too. So much. We haven’t known each other for very long but I still feel it. You mean the world to me and I don’t care if people think we’re going too fast. Both of us know that life is too short not to go for what we want. And I what I want more than anything or anyone is you.”

Eddie kissed him again. “I’m going to have get famous so I can spend the rest of my life making up for tonight.”

Steve laughed. “Just keep being the wonderful, charming, outrageous you and you’ll have more than made up for it.”

“You’re going to make me cry again, asshole,” Eddie growled.

Steve buried his nose into Eddie’s neck. “As long as they’re tears of joy, I’m okay with that.”

“You are such a romantic,” Eddie muttered.

Steve kissed Eddie’s neck, pressing gently against the gauze. “And I have set my sights on you.”

Eddie chuckled. “Getting the full Harrington charm experience speed run, clearly.”

Steve chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not using it all up tonight, you’ll still continue to get it for as long as you’ll have me.”

Eddie sighed happily. “Okay.”

Steve looked up at the clock and gave Eddie a squeeze. “It’s almost time to go, sunshine.”

Eddie got up off Steve’s lap and grabbed the vest to put it on. Steve put on the other vest and Eddie looked him up and down.

“Yeah, okay,” he teased. “You’ll do.”

“Asshole,” Steve said, gently pushing Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie grinned and leaned in. “But you love it.”

Steve laughed. “You bet your pretty face I do.”

Eddie blushed dark and red, turning away. “You can’t mean that.”

“Of course I do, Eds,” Steve murmured, cupping Eddie’s cheek. “Do you think me any less attractive because of the scars on my neck?”

Eddie shook his head. “It looks like a tattoo of barbed wire or something.”

Steve grinned. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “But anyway that’s not the point. The point is that you are still the hottest person I know.”

“How are you real?” Eddie asked.

Steve gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m a reformed mean girl, love. Believe me when I say that you’ll get to see the not fun parts of me, too.”

Eddie giggled.

“Let’s go get you to the concert of your dreams, babe.”

*

They arrived the concert hall at the appointed time and got to the box office. The teller slid over the lanyards and two small packets.

“You’ll be going through those doors there,” the teller said, pointing behind them. “There will be someone waiting for you. Enjoy the concert!”

Eddie eyed Steve warily. “Those aren’t the doors to the seats, Steven. Those are the doors to the backstage.”

Steve batted his eyelashes up at him innocently, stepping away from the counter. “Are they?”

The teller laughed.

“Sweetheart...” Eddie said, trailing after him. “Please tell me we do NOT have backstage passes.”

Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze and looked him dead in the eye. “But then I would be lying.”

Eddie swayed where he stood and Steve brought up his other arm to catch him. “Easy there. Do you need to sit?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nope. No, I’m good. Still going to kill you though.”

Steve laughed and leaned in close. “Just you wait, it gets better.”

Eddie let out a low whine but allowed Steve to lead him to the backstage area.

The man waiting for them was the same one from last night, most likely because Eddie and Steve would recognize him as staff. They put the lanyards over their heads as they followed him to the green room.

There waiting for them were all four members of Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne.

They all cheered when they entered the room.

“Holy fuck, Kirk!” Cliff hissed when Eddie came from around Steve. “He looks just like you! Did your mom fuck around or something?”

Kirk laughed. “Come on, man, not every long, long, dark-haired metalhead is related. That’s country music you’re thinking of!”

Eddie blushed.

“You’re embarrassing him,” Lars said pushing his bandmates. “Come on in, tell us about yourself!”

Eddie shuffled in and with just a gentle nudge from Steve was launching into his favorite songs, their styles. He talked about writing his own music.

Then far too soon the sound guy popped his head in. “Fifteen minutes Mr Osbourne.”

Ozzy nodded and walked out. Steve and Eddie got up to follow him. They were shown where to stand so that the audience didn’t see him.

Steve handed Eddie one of the packets of earplugs. “The guy I spoke to about the passes recommended them.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow but dutifully put them in. Steve followed suit.

And then Ozzy started his set and suddenly Eddie got it. He had been to concerts before. Had even been lucky to be close to the stage for a couple of them. But this? This was a whole other level of loud. He gave Steve a thumbs up.

Steve smiled back.

When the set ended Ozzy talked about giving back to the community and how learning that one the towns near here had come to great catastrophe and how they were donating money to help rebuild the town.

The crowd cheered.

And then Metallica came on. And they played through half of their set before they stopped.

“We wanted to bring out a special guest tonight,” James said into the microphone. “You see, we wanted to something special for the town of Hawkins. More than just give money to help them rebuild. But we did that, too. And then the perfect opportunity landed in our laps. This nice young man reached out to us regarding his friend.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“This man told us about a big fan of ours who had been wanting to see the concert but before he could scrape up enough money to do, was hurt in a horrible accident that took the lives of several people in town. We learned that the town tried to blame this friend because he was one of us. Because he was different. Because he was metal. And what do we say to that?”

The crowd roared, “Fuck that!”

“Louder,” James said.

“Fuck that!”

“That’s right,” he continued. “So what do you say about giving him a round of applause?”

The crowd started cheering and stomping and screaming. Steve gently pushed Eddie out on stage. He stumbled a little bit and slid into that comfortable skin of being in front of an audience. Granted he’d never been in front of one so large or so captivated. But this was something he lived for.

“This, my friends is Eddie Munson, metalhead and guitar player extraordinaire,” James said. The crowd cheered again. He turned to Eddie, “Now a little bird told me you can play the entirety of ‘Master of Puppets’, is that right?”

“I’d say I was decent at it, sure,” Eddie said into the mic.

James looked at the crowd as if to say, ‘can you believe the modesty of this guy?’ “A song that came out a three weeks ago.”

Eddie blushed. “It’s a masterful song.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” James said tilting his head up in a challenge.

Then Eddie felt a guitar being pressed into hand. He turned to see Kirk wink at him. Kirk then pulled up a stool.

“Now, since we know you’ve just gotten out of the hospital,” he said into his microphone, “so we aren’t going to make you stand.”

Eddie looked down at the guitar in his hand. It looked almost exactly like his sweetheart. It was an NJ Warlock with the cackle red paint job. It was beautiful.

He looked over at Steve. The other man was giving him to thumbs up.

Holy shit.

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20    

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