#and I’m looking forward to getting context for the rest of the lyrics

[bbcphile]

Is anyone else so excited that the little dance choreography over the closing credits of Fangs of Fortune not only changes with each arc to include guest stars and relevant settings, but also shows the actors getting better at it?

I love that it basically shows the growing teamwork and character development in microcosm by having everyone in the most recent clips be more in unison and more polished, just as they have started to work better as a team!

(I am so interested to see what happens with the closing credits dance as they recover from the events of the most recent episode!)

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

So I came to you earlier in the week because I felt like I can share with you how much I was not looking forward to this release.

I was actually very much not interested in listening to the album until after a week when this madness died down a little bit.

Unfortunately I caved because I am weak and I am glad I did because this album is actually good.

I have only listen to the first part (until Clara Bow) and I liked most of the songs. Like these are actually good.

I was afraid of what the lyrics are going to be like from the little snippets we were getting but they worked really in the songs.

I actually see a lot of maturity in her song writing which I was not expecting (this is my opinion, you can of course disagree)

I personally detached her lyrics away from her personal life and just created new scenarios in my head for them. And tbh I think they worked better than love songs or break up songs.

I think the aesthetics match the vibe really well but I think she could have chosen a different title because it doesn’t not match the vibe of the album.

I am still disappointed with everything she did to “promote” the album and I think she should be called out for it.

I wanted to say this before the album came out so I’ll just say it now so I don’t send more than one anon, I have always assumed she cheated on Joe, and not from the break up but before. Just listen to exile., I don’t what the song is actually about or what was the inspiration behind it but to me it always seemed like she cheated because she like the attention she got from whoever it was and he took her back because he loved her too much.

I’ll come back and let you know when I listen to the other half of the album, probably will be tomorrow because it’s a bit too much 😂

You can come to me whenever you’d like dearest anon. I’m always here for you.

I felt the same about her promo and lyrics (e.g. I love you it’s ruining my life) but I’m glad they fit well within the context of the songs she wrote.

When I listen to her music, I also detach the meaning of the songs away from her personal life. A lot of her lyrics are relatable to the every day person’s experience with love and loss so it’s easy to apply the meanings to our own lives and not focus on Matty Healy or whoever the song is about.

She definitely should be called out about the promo and feeding into the “Joe cheated” narrative that her fan base created and circulated heavily.

There have been multiple times where she has written about cheating or wanting to cheat. She loves the attention of men who worship her. She has been honest about that. So I wouldn’t be surprised if she did actually cheat on Joe.

Cheating seems to be a theme in her life.

Come back whenever you’d like to have a chat <3 goodluck with the rest of the album

[behindsonglyrics]

“Question...?” (Midnights) Matty Healy Masterpost

I haven’t done an analytic post in quite some time! I’m a little rusty, but I felt like this would be fun and …Question? has been pondering on my mind for some time now.

Before I hop into it, this is just a personal analysis theory. I’m not Taylor. I cannot ‘confirm’ whether a song is about someone, only Taylor holds those cards. Since it is a solely a theory; if you have a different opinion on ‘who’ you think a song is about, that is ok.

---

Now anyways, let’s get started...

Short Summary: …Question? Is a song where the song narrator (singing the song) is specifically reminiscing about a short lived moment of the past, regarding a short-lived situtationship, which we cannot fully call an official relationship because it was fleeting. The song narrator ponders on Questions she’s asking a former brief past lover. The narrator also opens up her heart, and telling her side of the story to that past brief lover, whom she has the Questions to.

Who is the ex fleeting situtationship? (Who the song is about?): Matty Healy.

How is it about Matty, well firstly, I know commonly Harry Styles is thought to be the  muse of this track, and (you never can say never, he very well could ‘still’ be as Harry has similar coincidences experienced and the OOTW sample) but heavily it seems to lay on Matty.

---

Let’s take an insight look to the lyrics, in a more depth way:

‘Good girl, sad boy / Big city, wrong choices”

Taylor tends to usually refer herself as a ‘good girl’ and has in previous songs, which narratively make it easily to come to the conclusion she is speaking about herself here. The ‘big city’ she refers to is New York, which, Taylor first met Matty Healy in 2014. New York is the “big city” as it’s often nicknamed the big apple for a reason.

At the time Matty had also met Taylor, it was known he was going through a lot himself: former heroin-addiction, outbursts, etc which led to a band intervention. He was not in a good place at the time of the rumors with Taylor.

“Wrong choices” also aren’t from Matty’s end either, Taylor is also speaking about her own wrong choices in the setting of New York.

“We had one thing goin' on / I swear that it was somethin'”

This is a very specific lyric that many may overlook, but tells a lot by the song narrator. Taylor indicates that she, “swears” they had something going on, meaning there wasn’t anything official, or set in stone. Thus why she, “swears” by it. This lyric here tends to steer me away from the Harry Styles theories, as Harry was in a full fledge (official) relationship with Taylor, unlike Matty where they were briefly having “something going on” even though it was fleeting, and she explains (in the rest of the song, why).

But one thing after another | Fuckin’ situations, circumstances | Miscommunications, and I have to say, by the way | I just want some explanations 

This lyric is quite intriguing because it is insight what led to to derailing and the shortness of this situtationship, and Taylor is asking for an answer (to, whom) she is singing to. Around the time Taylor was seeing Matty (in 2014), briefly as it was just starting up, there was an interview where he described potentially dating Taylor Swift as ‘emasculating’ and denying the possibility of them dating when asked in the past. He later apologized publicly, and said his words were miscommunication, implying they were taken out of context and correcting what he meant.

There is a letter somewhere of his public response, I can’t find the link right now, but it does exist.

Which fits the “miscommunication issues” that led to lost.

Can I ask you a question? Did you ever have anyone kiss someone in a crowded room and every single one of your friends was makin’ fun of you but fifteen seconds later, they were clapping too?

I won’t say much about these lyrics, as it’s a very straight forward retelling specific moment, and Taylor (the narrator) is asking how they felt about that, but it is obvious they shared a kiss, his mates teased him and it’s not the ordinary, only for them to be cheering them on, which mates tend to do. You could also say this scenario is weird for the both of them based on the circumstance.

Half-moon eyes, bad surprise Did you realize out of time?

So, Matty seems to have a hooded eye shape, which you could describe as ‘half-moon’ and when he smiles becomes more obvious in which she is describing. When she also asks, “did you realize out of time?” Is their situtationship coming to an end, and him knowing such.

“She was on your mind with some dickhead guy / That you saw that night”

Now commonly people think these lyrics apply to Harry as Harry looked distressed seeing Taylor with Calvin (masterpost here) but Harry wasn’t the only one during this time who was experiencing this. Around the timing of Matty and Taylor when Taylor started to get close and began seeing Calvin, Matty was there. That exact day. Dickhead guy is also Calvin Harris, btw for anyone specifically curious. 

“But you were on somethin' It was one drink after another”

As already said in this masterpost previously, Matty in the past was taking heavy drugs during this era of time. By 2017, an intervention was held for him by his bandmates. “On something” is pretty on the nose from Taylor.

What also debunks. …Question? Being about Harry Styles, is Harry in an interview himself said he never took drugs, until One Direction split. As he didn’t want to be the one who “fucks up.” It’s been said as well, Harry took One Direction seriously way back then, while his other bandmates (Louis, Zayn) were experimenting. He was “not on something” (Harry) he saw Taylor and Calvin, and that was the BBMA. Unlike Matty who “ran out of time” immediately after, cause after their breath flirting back and forth, Taylor met Calvin right then.

“Fuckin' politics and gender roles”

Matty has been politically outspoken for awhile now, I don’t know too much about him, but 21-year old Harry at the time wasn’t politically outspoken, besides maybe saying “don’t go to sea world” which is all I can really find, etc.

“Got swept away in the gray”

This may or may not be a similar reference like how Halsey paints Matty Healy and associates him with the color gray, he has strips of gray in his hair. Gray (as a color) = associated with some negative connation's, as it symbolizes loss, gloom, etc. Just like “blue’ is associated with describing the feeling of sadness.

---

Other than the lyrics, let’s talk about the sampling from OOTW.

There are theories that ‘About You’ may be Matty’s song to Taylor (whether it was written about her ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ up to you), but About You is saying, “did you think I forgotten” while OOTW is, “I remember” … Lastly, it is Jack who has long time worked with Taylor both on OOTW and Question. Both songs are on each others pre-set list as well.

[thelastdaysofanalogue]

04.02.11 - The Hold Steady at University of Southampton Student Union

In mid 2010 I developed some health issues, possibly stress induced. This, in turn, caused me to suffer from anxiety and depression that lasted throughout the rest of the year. As anyone who has been through anything like this will know, it’s a vicious cycle. I include this here for context because I think this gig was a turning point for me regaining some confidence. 

I started to feel uneasy waiting for The Hold Steady’s set to begin, the same horrible feeling I’d been having for months that started in the pit of my stomach, then made my chest feel tight. The next step of this normally would be to start to panic. As the band walked on stage, some rationale kicked in.

Going to gigs, playing gigs, booking gigs, promoting gigs, these were the things I did. For better or worse, it was what had defined me for years and I wasn’t going to let these issues take the place of that. I’m not romanticising this here to say that I took a literal step forward toward the stage and told my body and the thoughts in my head to do their worse. Fortunately they did fuck all and I felt back in control.

The Hold Steady is all romance though. Not hearts and Valentines Day romance, but the theatrics of the lyrics and the storytelling that have always been so easy for me to allow myself to get caught up in and find ways to write even the most specific of Craig Finn’s lines into my own life (or perhaps myself into his stories).

The band were touring on their album released the previous year, Heaven Is Whenever. I loved how religion weaved through The Hold Steady’s music, particularly when the connection between music and religion was made self-evident.

"Heaven is whenever we can get together. Sit down on your floor. And listen to your records.”

An honourable mention for the support on this tour Wintersleep. I enjoyed their set and bought their single ‘Weighty Ghost’ on 7” vinyl from Square Records in Wimborne later that year. It looks as if they’re still active but I've never got around to checking out an album.

[sluttywonwoo]

dirty reflection || hvc x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this is for @junsol happy birthday tiff!!

Masterlist

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Vernon, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Vernon let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Vernon raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Vernon wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from rehearsal and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: I don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: vernon knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done a number of times before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Vernon flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!" You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication. “We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

And that’s what led you to where you were now, staring each other down over the edge of the couch, daring the other to be the first to break. The room was still filled with tension, but there had been a shift in context.

Vernon’s eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Vernon said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.”

You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Vernon nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Vernon asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lyrics to work over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Vernon grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Vernon had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Vernon set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

You nodded and dropped your hands back by your side, watching him grab his notebook from the desk and settle on the chair. He was completely naked now, and you were left in just your underwear, a scene you both were intimately familiar with.

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Vernon gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

“I’d ask if you want me to return the favor, but I don’t think I need to.” He reached out to prove his point and brushed a couple fingers over your panties, ignoring the way you trembled as he did. He held his hand up to you to show you the wetness gathered on his pointer and index before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. “You’re plenty wet already.”

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Vernon didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“H-hansol,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Vernon had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Vernon’s cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Vernon began to hum to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond and you thought back to all of the colors he had dyed his hair before.

It was brown now, with remnants of the previous black still fading, but he had gone blond once before. You still remembered how shocked you had been when he came home from the salon that day.

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Vernon moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Vernon’s lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Vernon clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Vernon smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

You turned so that you were facing the mirror and let yourself be pulled back onto your boyfriend’s lap. He slid his cock back inside of you almost immediately and praised you for taking it so well.

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Hansol kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Hansol.”

You forced yourself to look at your reflection, straining your neck so that you could see clearly. You made eye contact with yourself only to see a stranger stared back at you. The person in the mirror looked like a fucking pornstar, tits out, legs spread, but also fucked out of their mind.

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Vernon brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Vernon grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Vernon weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Vernon as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Vernon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Vernon’s. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

happy birthday again tiff!! love u, mean it <3 (lmk what you thought i always appreciate feedback)

shoot me an ask if you'd like to be added to my taglist

[sunflowershouto]

only us - part one (daichi x f!reader x oikawa)

𝐚/𝐧: hi beans! i got this idea for a series listening to one of my favorite albums and i really hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! there is some canon divergence just for the purposes of the story: daichi is a detective, and oikawa is a pro-player in japan. as always, any feedback is greatly appreciated! enjoy! -leo

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After getting out of a long term relationship, Y/N is reunited with an old friend from college. Old feelings are reignited, but things just don't seem to work out the way that they should.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pining, mentions of infidelity in the context of a past relationship

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: slowburn, love triangle 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨: animal - annie eve

❝𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕. . .❞ ❝𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒊 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒊��𝒆. . .❞

��𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐔𝐒

‧₊˚✩彡.

The previous weeks had been what Y/N could only describe as a gravity-well, the center of which she was trapped in. She couldn’t outrun the heaviness in her chest, and her mind was all spinning circles and revolving doors that were moving too fast for her to escape from.

However, the pace of her career was relentless, and being a journalist meant that there was no time for her to take pause or wallow in the misery of a freshly-ended relationship—if she wanted to survive in her field, she would have to keep moving and moving and moving, with that gravity-well following overhead.

The soles of her shoes clicked softly against the linoleum tile of the Tokyo Police Department’s main office, her demeanor giving away none of the turmoil that was simmering within. She was polite and professional as she explained that she was a journalist there to speak to one of the detectives about a case she was working on, and to any onlooker, she might have even seemed cheerful.

She was led down a long hallway into one of the offices, given a seat in front of a large mahogany desk, and told to wait.

Y/N found that as of late, she hated having any sort of down-time that might force her into stillness. She couldn’t see the clock that hung over the doorway behind her, but she could hear it—she could feel it. It ticked monotonously, and with each forward stroke of the second hand, she felt like she was sinking further and further into herself. The heaviness in her chest crept up on her and became crushing as she was allowed time to think: about the sight of someone she didn’t recognize lying in her bed, lying in the arms of her partner. About the signs that she had been ignoring for the weeks leading up to it. About how silent her apartment was when she came home in the evenings when there was no one else there to fill the space. It had been months, and she was still trapped as though it had all happened yesterday.

She tapped her foot impatiently against the ground, challenging the slow rhythm of the clock as though the frenzied tempo of her agitation could force the seconds to pass faster.

Eventually, the door behind her swung open, and the detective stepped into the room.

“Excuse me for being so late,” came a deep and almost familiar voice from behind her. She stood and turned to face him, eager for something to snap her out of her trance, but was forced back into stillness as recognition settled over her. “Daichi?”

Sure enough, earnest dark eyes stared into her own, and for a moment, as a wide grin split across his face, the gravity-well that loomed over her finally seemed to let up.

He stepped towards her, both of them abandoning any semblance of formality. “Y/N, I can’t believe it’s really you. It’s been…” “Forever,” she supplied, flashing him a warm and sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Forever.” Daichi’s gaze was piercing as he took her in, staring for just a moment too long before moving to take his place behind his desk. He carded through a few files on his desk before pulling one rather decisively from the stack.

It was Y/N’s turn to stare, taking in the way he moved about his surroundings with relaxed authority, as though he knew exactly where he belonged. He hadn’t changed at all since college, not one bit. She couldn’t take her eyes away, even as he glanced up at her through his lashes, head still tilted down towards the papers in his hands.

She was stuck like that, lost in his dark and steady gaze, her heart seeming to stutter to life in her chest.

“L/N?”

‧₊˚✩彡.

“L/N! Don’t get too far ahead!” Daichi scolded lightly, fondness in his eyes as he watched Y/N skip ahead of him, carnival lights reflecting like stars in her eyes. Her joy was contagious to him, like a flame in his hands that he wanted to keep kindling and protecting.

“Stop being such a worry-wart, Dai,” she laughed over her shoulder. Her arms were wrapped adamantly around the plushie that he’d won her just a few minutes ago, a blue penguin that smiled vacantly no matter how tightly she squeezed him. “Do you think we could go on the Ferris Wheel? I bet we could see the whole city from the top!” He nodded, quickening his pace to keep up with her. They were walking side by side now, and Daichi had made plans for this exact scenario—he’d brush his hand gently against hers, and find a natural opening to intertwine their fingers. The only thing that stood in the way was the round blue penguin that she had named ‘Squish.’ He shot a sidelong glare down at the unassuming plushie that was currently occupying Y/N’s arms, mentally cursing the stupid thing for ruining his plans. “One ride on the Ferris Wheel, and then home, alright? You have a lecture tomorrow and you’ll be grouchy tomorrow if you stay out so late.”

Y/N turned to face him in mock-offense, sticking her tongue out and hugging Squish closer. “What? I don’t get grouchy!”

“Maybe ‘unpleasant’ would be a better wor—agh!” He broke out into warm laughter as her elbow collided softly with his side, and he held up his hands defensively as if to finally relent. “Alright, alright!” “I’ll have you know, I am delightful always,” she insisted, beaming triumphantly.

And there was that smile again, the one that felt like fire in his hands and made his mind go blank and his body feel like there was lightning inside. “Yeah,” Daichi agreed softly.

‧₊˚✩彡.

“And that’s the basics of what we have so far. Unless we have some sort of solid proof, I have no way to make the arrest. It’s been months and… Nothing,” Daichi sighed wearily, flipping the case-file shut and leaning back in his desk chair, a frown etched deep into his features. His coat was draped across the back of his chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, markers of the hours that had passed since he and Y/N had begun discussing the Suzuki case.

The department had been investigating Goichi Suzuki for years, with strong suspicion that his company was partially a front for drug-trafficking. Evidence had always been circumstantial, and leads seemed to disappear as soon as they turned up, frustrating even the best of the department’s detectives. Sawamura, however, had refused to give up.

“Daichi.” Her voice was clear, almost lyrical, as she addressed him. Her own concerns were momentarily abandoned as she worked to tether him, to pull him out of the frustration that she knew could be so crippling. “We’re going to catch him.”

“Right.” His expression seemed lighter now, lifted in determination and renewed confidence. “Well… That’s about all we can do today until you can speak to your sources. Thank you for agreeing to help me, Y/N.” It wasn’t what he was saying, so much as how he was saying it—nothing he had said, if repeated back on paper, would sound anything but professional and polite. It was the way that his eyes shone, and his voice warmed up to her like honey on a hot day that told her that his ‘thank you’ was more than just business. She was almost suffocated by how deeply she had missed him, but she knew what this was—she was starting to rebound. She had just gotten out of a relationship that had ended in a messy breakup. Of course her old feelings would be amplified, especially when he was being so damn inviting.

“Of course, Daichi.” She could only watch as he pushed himself out of his chair and circled around to the other side of his desk, then took perch on the front corner just in front of her, his body language now completely casual.

He tilted his head slightly as he took a closer look at her, his face scrutinizing but not-quite judgemental. “So. What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Y/N shrunk back beneath his gaze, suddenly much more conscious of how she was holding herself, what she was presenting to the world around her. Stop looking at me like that, damnit… Had she really made it so obvious that she was carrying around her own personal baggage? Great. She could add looking unprofessional to her ever-growing list of things to worry about. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been a long time, and you’re good at hiding it, but I still know you well enough to know when something’s bothering you. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but… What’s the matter?” Daichi leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his legs.

“Well…” Y/N began hesitantly, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, “It’s a bit of a long story, but I just got out of a long-term relationship. It didn’t end very neatly, and I guess I’m still just... “ She trailed off, unable to find a word that could even begin to cover the regret, the doubt, the blame, the unfairness of it all.

“Processing?” he suggested, his tone much gentler than before.

“Yeah. Processing.”

His expression softened into a sympathetic smile, and he brought up an idle hand to scratch the side of his neck. “I’m sure you’ll make it through just fine,” he assured her. “You’ve always been strong.”

Just like it always used to be, Daichi’s reliability was enough to help uplift her, and Y/N found herself mirroring his smile easily, sinking into the comfort of having a friend that she could trust. “Thank you, Dai.”

Days and then weeks went by, and the pair found it easy to mask the tension with the guise of professionalism—stray glances and candid smiles could all be brushed aside as remnants of their old friendship, the foundations of which they had found were still very much in-tact.

Daichi felt a rush of inexplicable pride every time Y/N confided in him, though she only did so in fragments, each of which he remembered carefully to try and piece together later. He could tell whenever they landed on the topic of her last relationship that it was still sore, that he shouldn’t press too hard on a bruise that was still healing. He kept his growing contempt for her ex-partner to himself, though he entertained his own ideas of what he’d like to say to the man if they ever crossed paths. Sawamura didn’t care for unfaithfulness to begin with, but the anger that swelled inside him with each new detail that Y/N shared was almost unjustifiable. Or at least, it would have been, if she was just a colleague to him.

‧₊˚✩彡.

“Sorry for keeping you at the precinct so late.” Streetlights lined their path, showering the detective and the journalist in an unnatural orange light, which was broken sporadically by the brilliant glow of passing headlights that faded into dull red as they disappeared down the road. It had been almost 2 months since their first meeting, and the two had fallen into an easy rhythm, which they used to dance around the growing tension.

“Not at all,” Y/N assured him, shoving her hands deeper into her coat pockets as frigid air bit harshly into the exposed skin. “I think we made some really good progress today! The overtime was definitely worth it.”

“Right…” he agreed absently, watching her in his periphery before sneaking a longer look. The streetlamps shone in her eyes like those carnival lights had all those years ago, and he was reminded of the flame in his hands, which now seemed to flicker just out of reach. He knew it was wrong of him to allow his feelings to be reignited, and on more than one count. She had confided in him the details of a traumatic breakup, not to mention the fact that they were currently acting as partners on a professional level. Logically, he knew all of these things, and Daichi had always been good at logic. It was how he kept his cool under pressure, and the reason that he was a detective at all—but right now, logic was the furthest thing from his mind. The girl that he had once been in love with had fallen right back in front of him, like the world was handing him a chance on a silver platter. He’d be a damned fool not to take it.

For a moment, their staggered steps and the occasional passing car were the only sounds to ease the tension. The hum of the city, which Sawamura usually found comforting, was now taunting, like a thousand flies buzzing in the distance. Finally, Daichi spoke again, if only to keep himself from drowning in the silence that hung between them. “Let’s grab dinner, okay? It’s late and neither of us has eaten since we started working.”

Y/N’s response was delayed, and for the first time in weeks, there was an expression on her face that he found himself unable to read. Her pause couldn’t have been that long, maybe a second or two at most, but it was enough time for a simmering anxiety to sweep over him in a wave. And then she smiled again, and it set his mind on fire.

When they stepped out of the restaurant, it was like leaving a time-capsule. Cheap ramen after a night spent studying had been a staple of their friendship in college, and being there again had left them both feeling like the years had melted away around them. Things felt simpler, more carefree than they’d been in months.

“My apartment isn’t far from the train station,” Daichi told Y/N as they stepped back out into the cold. He could feel it, the haze of nostalgia slowly seeping through the cracks in the pavement, getting carried further away by each passing car. “I can walk most of the way with you.”

“Alright,” Y/N agreed tentatively, wrapping her coat tighter around her as they started down the sidewalk. She could feel that the pull between them was growing stronger, that she was starting to open up to him more and more and more, and she was scared that her old feelings for him would spin out of control if she let herself get swept away by the sentimentality that was swelling up inside her. ‘These feelings aren’t real. Rebounding. I’m rebounding.’ She could repeat it to herself as many times as she wanted, but she’d always been a shitty liar—even when it came to lying to herself.

“Can… Can I ask you something?” Daichi finally interjected after about a block and a half of silence. He sounded tense, nervous even, and Y/N could tell that he was preparing to approach a difficult subject—she didn’t have to be the detective to know what.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, her gaze trained on the pavement beneath her feet, counting the uniform lines in the concrete as she stepped over them. “Anything.”

He took a deep breath, hesitating as though he were expecting his next words to go wrong, but trusting that they were both comfortable in their friendship. “How… How did you find out that Takashi was cheating on you?”

The question hung heavy in the air, settling uncomfortably around her shoulders, and though it was a forward thing to ask, Y/N couldn’t say that it was totally unexpected. They’d been weaving their way through the subject for weeks now—it had only been a matter of time before they finally arrived here.

She was careful not to slow her pace as she formulated an answer in her head, still trying to mask some of the hurt that she was carrying with her. “Well… I had been travelling for work. It wasn’t a long trip, and I wasn’t far; just a weekend a few cities over. But, I finished my interviews ahead of schedule, so I decided to come home early on my last day.” Y/N was forcing her voice to stay even, pacing herself and trying hard not to let herself fall into the weight of her words. She realized now that she hadn’t told this story yet, hadn’t even really let herself process it.

She could feel Daichi staring, and she glanced to the side, knowing that she’d melt under his gaze. “When- When I got back to the apartment—our apartment—it was early afternoon. I didn’t see him anywhere so I thought that maybe he’d run out for groceries or food or, well—it doesn’t matter what I thought, I guess. I went to our room to put my things away and- and he-”

They had reached his apartment now, and they lingered on his doorstep, bathed in the glow of fluorescent lamps.

Daichi watched her with sorrow in his eyes, his gut twisting with the impulse to reach out to her as she began to cry. He was angry—angry at the one who had done this to her, angry at himself for feeling the way he did, wanting the things that he wanted.

“He was in our bed, and she was there too. And he- he was holding her like she belonged there, like- like they had done this a thousand times and-” Her voice finally broke against the lump in her throat, and her hands quickly moved to hide herself as tears spilled freely down the sides of her face. “And I’m not strong, because I just felt so- so stupid, Daichi. For thinking that- that I could ever mean something to someone wh-”

“Don’t,” Daichi interjected softly, finally finding the words to comfort her. Gently, his hands curled around her wrists and pulled them from her face, his own expression distressed as he took in the sight of her like this, overwhelmed by a hurt that she had been hiding and carrying with her for so long. “Don’t. You could. You do. Listen to me; whatever he did, whatever choice he made, it wasn’t about you. Trust me. Please.”

Y/N’s vision was still blurred by welling tears, but nothing could obscure the intensity that burned in Daichi’s eyes as he held her hands away from her face. There was an urgency about him that amplified his usual sincerity until she was consumed by it, by the feeling that she was safe with him.

“Daichi…” she whispered, her voice still watered down as they searched each other’s eyes, every moment leading up to this one playing back in their minds.

He pulled her close against him and held her like he was afraid she’d disappear, his arms tightening as she returned his embrace. He lost himself as she looked up at him with those red-rimmed and puffy eyes, glittering with tears. Before he knew what he was doing, his lips were on hers, and he was kissing her wildly, desperately.

Y/N’s heart stopped as he started, but she kissed back, letting her mind run blank as he pulled her closer into him, comforted by the steadiness of his arms around her. There were sparks between them that she could no longer explain away, lightning that only accompanied love, indisputable proof that he was more than just a friend, that this was more than just a rebound. When he kissed her, she felt alive.

She could hardly breathe when he finally pulled away from her, his eyes wild and drilling into her with a burning intensity.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, just as breathless as she was. “Stay… Stay with me.”

Her back was against his front door, and she knew exactly what that look in his eye meant—it meant that if she followed him in, that this was for real. It meant that she was serious about him, and that he was serious about her, and that they were finally letting this happen as it should have all those years ago.

The words were on her lips when the images came flooding back, of her space in her own bed occupied by another, a stranger lying in the arms of the person who she had chosen to love, to trust. Daichi’s steadiness suddenly became uncertainty, and she found herself wilting away from him.

His arms fell away from her easily, and her heart sank at the tortured look that was written all over his face as she moved away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest, and tried her hardest to at least look him in the eye. “I-I’m sorry, Daichi. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“You’re…” Daichi cut himself off, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his feet, a long sigh rolling off his lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/N. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” As Y/N turned away and headed for the train station, she was forced to reckon with her own conflicting emotions. Being with Daichi had felt so right, so safe, but the thought of taking that risk again, putting herself in a situation where a single person could hurt her so badly… If there was anyone in the world who she thought would never betray her, it was him—but that trust might only mean that she would have farther to fall.

Daichi watched her go, and though he wanted to scream as he watched her silhouette disappear into the night, he had become unequivocally certain that he truly wanted to be with her. It was what he had wanted for a long, long time.

‧₊˚✩彡.

Y/N had gotten into work that morning and immediately been scheduled to conduct a last minute interview—one of the writers for the paper’s sports column had needed to attend to a family emergency, leaving her to cover for him in his absence. She wouldn’t need to visit the precinct today, something she was almost grateful for. There was an almost unfathomable level of awkwardness between her and Daichi, and not having to see him made it that much easier to try to forget what had happened on his doorstep two weeks ago.

She stepped into the designated meeting room, notepad in hand as she slid into the seat across from the athlete that she was supposed to be interviewing. “Hi,” she began, giving him her usual professional hospitality. “I’m L/N Y/N, it’s nice to meet you— I’ll be interviewing you today.”

“Hello,” he almost seemed to chirp, leaning back into his chair and shooting her a charming, coy smile. “I’m Oikawa. But with a face like yours, I’ll let you call me Tooru.”

[unsaid-stardust]

Nights Like This

Luke hated nights like this. These nights where all he wanted to do was write, but nothing came to mind. No melodies rang in his ears. No lyrics whispered in the back of his mind begging to be let out. No "Ba-bums" echoed in his eardrums that would later be turned into a drum pattern for Alex. No. It was all empty; his head. And yet, it wasn't. There were still so many things swimming around like a whirlpool. Everyone around him often joked that he didn't think. And he didn't....most of the time. But, then there were nights like these, when the words and melodies were empty, that gave way for his thoughts to move in to the forefront of his mind. 

When he was alive, the remedy was easy: go. That's all he had to do. Go somewhere, anywhere, away from where he currently was. That always seemed to get Luke out of whatever funk he was in. But, now that he's dead, there's only so many places he can go. Sure, he could go walk on the beach or around the darkened streets of L.A., but it just wasn't the same. Not when everything that walked and breathed right through him just reminded him of what he wasn't. 

So, that's how he found himself sitting on the porch swing at half-past midnight on the Molina's front stoop, swinging gently, back and forth, to the rhythm of the light Los Angeles breeze, gazing up at the twinkling stars, trying to remember the constellations that his dad taught him when he was 8. 

He couldn't remember many of them, the constellations. He only really remembered the Big and Little Dipper, but who didn't? Luke sighed. There were a lot of things he didn't remember when it came to his parents. He was just always so focused on music it was hard for his brain to think of anything else and that included family. Sometimes on nights like this, he wished things had been different. That he had never picked up that stupid guitar in the first place. Because then, he'd remember more about his parents and he wouldn't be...dead. His friends wouldn't be dead. He wouldn't be sitting here, alone--

"Luke?"

 Luke sat up at the sound of a voice that was the equivalent of what Luke imagined stardust would sound like and found the source, which was much more magical than stardust ever would be, standing in front of him: Julie, the wicked beauty who should instead be a sleeping beauty. 

"Julie? What are you doing up?" 

"Couldn't sleep, thought I'd get some fresh air," Julie explained as she walked up the front steps of the porch. Julie didn't have to ask Luke to move in order for him to make room for her on the swing. And without much thought, he shifted so that his back was against the arm rest, his legs laying across the seat and against the back of the swing. Julie smiled and jumped up to the swing, copying Luke's movements so that they weren't quite touching, but were close enough to make Luke's non-existent breath hitch. 

"What are you doing out here? Aren't you usually in the studio or roaming the streets or whatever it is you do? Actually, what do you do at night? You guys don't sleep right?" Julie asked. Luke smiled slightly at Julie's curiosity, but swallowed it back at the aching thought of passing all the lifers on the crowded streets. 

"I try to write usually. But, everything up here is sounding a lot more like those crickets in cartoons," Luke joked so that Julie wouldn't worry. It seemed to work because Julie sounded a laugh that was music to Luke's ears. 

"That's a first," She snorted. Luke shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Luke retorted and turned his attention back to the stars (Which really should be jealous of how bright Julie Molina shined when she laughed, or did anything at all for that matter). Julie must've noticed how quiet Luke was being for she broke the silence. 

"Hey, you'd tell me if anything was up, right?" Julie questioned, placing a hand on his knee next to her; Luke froze slightly at the contact, looking down at her fingers he often imagined tracing down his own skin just as she traced the keys on her piano. The touching was still so new and yet--it always felt right. 

Like whenever Julie brushed her fingers against his when they were writing, it felt like she was the literal key to his heart. Or when she laid her head on his shoulder when they would watch Friends in her room, it felt like they were puzzle pieces that were lost under the rug for so many years finally coming together.

Luke never really paid much thought to the idea of soulmates before he met Julie. If he did, it was in context to music. Music was always his soulmate, but lately? Lately, he was beginning to think he was wrong. 

"What do you mean? I tell you that the sky is up all the time," Luke intercepted. Julie rolled her eyes and took her hand away from his knee in order to place it onto his hand.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I just--you always tell me that I can tell you anything and I want you to know that it's the same with me. You can tell me anything, Luke. Whatever you have to say, whatever you're feeling? I'm here to listen," Julie explained. If Luke was able to breathe at all, he was pretty sure that he would've forgotten how. His chest felt tight and the place where his heart used to be, the place that always felt and sounded hollow, didn't feel so hollow anymore. 

The reason why Luke told Julie, and even Alex and Reggie, that they could tell him anything was, not only because it was entirely true, but because he felt like he didn't have that in his life. He had the guys, yeah, but he didn't ever want to burden them. They already had so much going on in their lives he never wanted to add to that. And his parents....he could yell at them and they wouldn't even listen. To have someone blatantly tell him that they were there for him made him feel things he couldn't describe. 

He never was good at that, but with Julie...he could learn to try. 

Without even a thought passing by, Luke moved his hand so that it was on top of Julie's, leaned his body forward, and brought her hand up to his lips, placing a lingering kiss onto the back of it.

"Thank you," He whispered against her hand and even though the only light that danced around them was coming from one dimming porch light, Luke caught a hint of a blush on her cheek causing Luke to bite back a smirk as he placed their hands back onto his knees. 

They stayed like that, their hands lying on top of one another, the L.A breeze swaying their bodies back and forth gently in the night. And as they sat, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, their hands staying conjoined the way a lock and key or a puzzle piece seemed, Luke thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to nights like this. 

Tagging: @blush-and-books @willexx @littledancersun @moony221b @lydias--stiles @ruzek-halstead

[nonbinaryresource]

hi. i wanted to ask whether or not it’s ok to take comfort in a person that has not officially come out as trans but has included many forms of gender expression in their work? i’m trans and when i listened to this artist’s work (harry styles - she & fine line) i connected with the songs immediately? i found a lot of people in the community who too connected to the songs and interpreted the lyrics as a struggle with one’s gender identity. at first i was against calling harry trans because i thought it was wrong, but then after reading master posts i discovered that he constantly portrays gender in his work (using the trans flag on his album cover; being ok with his friends referring to him with she/her, miss, ‘sue’ instead of ‘harry’, and sis; his obsession with babies and especially wanting to get pregnant; relating himself only to female artists; etc.) and now i’m really confused. it feels comforting as a fan to relate to him and i, and a lot of other fans from the community, sometimes refer to him with he/she/they instead of he/him (he never said his pronouns are he/him). is that wrong? every time my (trans) friends and i refer to him with pronouns other than he/him or tell people not to assume he’s cis as he never specified that, other (usually cis. a trans fan called me transphobic and told me to stop seeking validation from cis white men.) fans will start calling us transphobic and delusional and attacking us to the point we had anxiety attacks over it? i’m just really confused right now. i don’t want to misgender anyone but i don’t understand why relating to someone who, from their actions, could be part of the community is wrong. i’m not out to anyone irl and sometimes i wish people caught on to the little things i do and recognise that i am part of the community. i don’t understand why people keep shutting down the idea the harry could be trans when he never said he was cis and was ok being referred to as she.

he has previously said that there are no lines between what's masculine and what's feminine for him anymore. i'm sorry this is so long and thank you

(You also sent in the song lyrics - thanks for the easy reference! - but I’m clipping those for length reasons.)

Disclaimer before I dig in: I am not a Harry Styles stan, I know very little about him, most of what I am going to say specifically about him is stuff I researched about specifically to answer this ask. I want to speak mostly generally to your question.

Okay, so you posed a pretty succinct, straight forward question. “i wanted to ask whether or not it’s ok to take comfort in a person that has not officially come out as trans but has included many forms of gender expression in their work?“ However, there’s also a lot of context to this ask that makes things not so straight forward, and there are several distinct issues touched upon here I want to delve into. But it seems a good a starting place as any to start with the direct question you asked.

Yes, of course it’s okay to find your own meaning in art and role models and relate to art your way from your perspective based on your experience. In fact, that’s nearly the entire purpose of art! And it makes sense too, that we as social creatures would look up to and be inspired by celebrities, artists, mentors, role models, etc. Feeling connected to and less alone because someone in the spotlight plays with gender presentation like you might or want to makes a lot of sense!

However, we have to remember that A) sometimes art is just art, and B) someone being in the spotlight doesn’t mean we actually know or understand them or are/should act familiar with them.

As an example, a couple years back, Will Jay released a song called “Never Been in Love” that pretty much exploded with aros and aces and became a bit of an anthem for a lot of us. Many wondered if he was aspec himself and there was a lot of queries about it (and I saw quite a few blogs reminding folk that they were allowed to relate to the song even if it meant something different to Will Jay or he wasn’t actually aspec). Earlier this year, he released the song “Lies” where he admits that he was writing songs he thought people would relate to and he actually had been in love even before writing “Never Been In Love”. That should do nothing to diminish how meaningful the song was to people, though! If we related to the song, we related to the song, and if it was meaningful and made us feel seen and understood, that’s great! A lot of times, art is personal, but sometimes art is just an exploration.

This concept applies even more to people themselves. It is soooo easy to idolize and romanticize people you’ve never actually met and really only see the persona they want you to see. Yes, they share personal information with the world and they experience a general lack of privacy that makes you feel like yeah, you really know who they are. But how can you really, personally, intimately know someone without interacting with them, chatting with them, getting to know them one on one? It’s fine to have role models and feel represented by and relate to a celebrity - just do not lose sight of the fact that what you’re feeling is personal feeling on your own end. It’s not something that this celebrity has actually built with you.

To put this another way: it is fine to headcanon fictional characters, but it’s not okay to headcanon real people.

Now, what I’m building up to here is that there are a lot of assumptions I am seeing - from both sides - that we cannot truly know because all we know is what Harry [or anyone] chooses to share with us. I’d like to break this down by going through some specific points.

at first i was against calling harry trans because i thought it was wrong

Okay, there are two sides to this.

1) It is wrong to apply a gender label/descriptor to someone without their permission.

2) In a cisnormative society, “cis” is the default gender label/descriptor to apply to everyone, and that’s equally wrong, so I get why it feels like a rebellion of the system to go “well, there are Reasons they could be trans, so I’m just going to go ahead and call them trans”.

We should get away from automatically labeling everyone as “cis”. However, the way we fix this isn’t to just decide we get to apply whatever label/descriptor to someone we want.

If someone hasn’t clarified or specified their gender (and you can’t/it isn’t a good or safe idea to ask them), it’s the safest bet to go by what they seem to be majority being called or what you can find of them referring to themself as.

In some cases, when someone seems to be specifically avoiding labeling themselves or uncomfortable with labeling themselves, it may be most comfortable for you to also avoid labeling them just as much as possible.

being ok with his friends referring to him with she/her, miss, ‘sue’ instead of ‘harry’, and sis; his obsession with babies and especially wanting to get pregnant; relating himself only to female artists; etc.)

It’s worth considering - is this something for friends only? Or is it open to fans and other public sectors?

Usually if something is for friends only, it’ll be kept out of public eye, but if only friends are doing this, is this something that is only being shared with you or is it something you’re entitled to as well?

Aaaaaaaaalso, it has to be pointed out that it’s binarist and cisnormative in it’s own way to equate different names/pronouns automatically with being trans or being a specific trans identity. Wanting to get pregnant? Do you know how many cis women I’ve heard go on and on about wanting a penis so they can pee standing up (like... all of them anytime we’re outside or camping)? Plenty of cis people use pronouns you might not expect! You don’t have to be trans/nonbinary to use multiple or ‘atypical’ pronouns. Cis people are allowed to use other pronouns as well! They’re allowed to have names typically associated with other genders! Not all gender nonconforming or genderqueer people/people queering gender are trans! Not everybody exploring their gender nor gender presentation is trans!

not to assume he’s cis as he never specified that

It’s great to not assume someone is cis! But that doesn’t automatically make them trans.

i don’t want to misgender anyone but i don’t understand why relating to someone who, from their actions, could be part of the community is wrong.

Do you specifically, absolutely need to gender someone in order to relate to them?

i don’t understand why people keep shutting down the idea the harry could be trans when he never said he was cis and was ok being referred to as she.

I’ve only recently seen a tiny bit of this ��discourse’ around on twitter, but what I see is a few issues/points:

A) It’s not up to us to claim someone as trans if they have not come out as trans. Coming out is an extremely personal choice and should be up to each individual. “Claiming” them is basically dragging them into something that very well may be not theirs. And if it is theirs, why would you want to steal that moment of getting to determine and declare that away from them?

B) We are all so done with cis, able-bodied white folk being prioritized above the rest of the queer community!!! There are actual, legitimate, out trans people that can be your trans role models and they’re being shoved to the back of the closet in favor of a privileged, white Schrödinger’s Trans. Let’s uplift our actual community instead of getting stuck on someone who may or may not be a part of community - and may not even want to be a part of it!

All that being said, I do want to say something really quickly on Harry himself because it ties back into the assumptions we’ve been talking about. Harry’s sexuality has long been a question on fans and journalists minds, and Harry has pretty consistently made it clear that he’s not really interested in labels or boxes. Harry’s gender is not something that has been asked about, talked about, or answered on much. And his comment on masculinity and femininity? Let’s remember that, like pronouns, masculinity and femininity don’t automatically or inherently relate to one specific gender or not. And, quite frankly, it is faucet of toxic masculinity and cissexism to equate a gnc man/man in a dress with being trans. Men are allowed to wear dresses and makeup and heels! Men are allowed to be soft and nurturing and to cry! Cis or trans, men are allowed to be these things, and arguing that they’re trans simply for doing or being any of these does continue to enforce dangerous and strict views of the gender binary.

Okay, it feels like I kinda put you through the wringer, so I want to go back and reiterate: it is 100% valid to relate to and feel connected to/inspired by someone on the basis of their presentation and gender exploration. It is not valid to claim ownership over their identity because of this. It is possible for two people to experience same or similar things and yet come to different conclusions about themselves!

If Harry Styles as an icon is important to you, I’m glad you can have that! But not everyone will or has to share your connection, and the only one actually qualified to speak on Harry’s gender is Harry himself. Harry could be trans, but it’s his right and his right only to claim that label. Any assuming we do is just that: an assumption. And I want you to be careful with your own feelings getting too attached to the image of Harry you’ve built up in your own head only to potentially have them shattered if Harry decides to speak on things and it turns out his feelings don’t mean what you thought.

Your identity is valid regardless of how Harry Styles feels or identifies. You feeling validated and seen and represented by Harry’s actions is valid regardless of how Harry Styles feels or identifies. It’s great to have role models and be inspired by people, but remember that at the end of the day, you need to be able to rely on yourself to keep up your ego and determine your sense of self.

~Pluto

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you specially celebrate his friend’s birthday

This work, 当你特意帮他身边的人庆生, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

After finding out when Goldman’s birthday is, you decide to rope Wei Wei into the celebration to create an opportunity for the two of them. You give yourself a round of applause for your ingenuity. After all, there aren’t that many bosses out there who go to such lengths for their employees, right?

[Note] Wei Wei is an intern from MC’s company who appears in Victor’s Chinese Wedding date, which has not yet been released in EN!

“I heard that it’s Assistant Goldman’s birthday tomorrow,” you hint during an idle conversation with Wei Wei. “He mentioned wanting a new tie. Hmm, I wonder if he’s bought one already.”

The innocent-minded girl immediately rises to the bait, and she bites her lip. “Boss, could you accompany me in picking out a tie for Assistant Goldman after work? As a... ‘thank you’ gift for how he usually takes care of me.”

“Sure,” you respond eagerly, wanting Wei Wei to just tie the knot with Goldman already.

After work, you and Wei Wei pick out a dark blue tie from New Light Mall. After making payment, you speak up just as she’s about to hand the tie to you.

“Come with me to LFG tomorrow, and give it to him personally.”

Blushing, Wei Wei nods.

-

The next day, the both of you reach LFG early. 

“Good morning. The meeting hasn’t started.” Goldman tidies up documents on the table. “Lady Boss, the CEO is in his office.”

You hurriedly wave your hands. “No no no, we came specially to find you. Happy birthday Goldman~” You hand him the gift, and use your other hand to prod Wei Wei forward.

Wei Wei walks to Goldman timidly. “Assistant Goldman, happy birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” The sudden voice takes all of you by surprise.

“CEO.” Goldman instantly sets the gift down.

Seeing this, you grab Victor’s arm. Pushing him towards the office, you turn back to Goldman. “I have something to discuss with your boss, so help me take care of Wei Wei~”

-

In the office, Victor watches as you press yourself against the door in an attempt to eavesdrop. 

“You specially came here for Goldman?”

Your back is facing him, and you wish your ears could travel outside the door. “My main goal is to be a matchmaker for the two of them.”

“You know when his birthday is.” It’s not a question, but a comment.

“I flipped through his materials.” 

The office has quality soundproofing, so the sounds outside are quite hazy.

“And even gave him a gift?” His pitch elevates slightly at the end.

“It was along the way.”

Hearing some anxiousness in Wei Wei’s voice, you feel the strong urge to rush out and confess to Goldman on her behalf.

 “...”

Hearing no further sounds from behind you, you finally turn to look at him. “Victor, what’s wrong?”

He lifts his wrist and peers at his watch. “In the three minutes and seventeen seconds since you came in here, you haven’t looked at me once.”

...that’s very accurate.

“You even specially prepared a gift for Goldman.” He pauses, adding on in a softer voice. “And have nothing for me.”

It’s rare to see him like this, and it tickles you. “Are you jealous of your own assistant?”

“Idiot.” He lets out a soft ‘hmph’, and picks up a report at the side.

Laughing on the inside, you pull out a wine-red tie from your bag, encircling it around his neck.

Stunned, Victor runs his fingers across the tie.

“How could I possibly give Goldman a present and not you?” Your eyes crinkle, looking at him mischievously. “Little Vic, don’t get jealous for no reason~”

He takes off the loosely strapped tie on his neck, then removes the tie he was originally wearing. “Childish. How could I possibly be jealous?”

“Yes yes yes, I’m childish. Want to return the tie to me then?” You reach out, as though you’re going to take the tie away.

“There’s no such thing as returning a gift.” Victor shifts in his chair, avoiding your hand.

“Yes yes yes, you’re always right.” You continue perfunctorily.

“Dummy.” With this familiar address, he puts some distance between himself and the office desk. 

“Aren’t you going to put it on for me properly?”

[ GAVIN ] - Important context: they haven’t started dating yet

As Minor’s high school classmate, you naturally know when his birthday is. Since he’s Gavin’s number one fan, you decide to invite Gavin to the celebration.

“...you know... what he likes?” Gavin watches as you pick out a gift for Minor, his expression a little difficult to read.

“He mentioned wanting to change his gaming keyboard in the office,” you hold up a keyboard, giving it a look-over. “How’s this?”

“Any one will do.” He reaches out to pinch a leaf of an ornamental plant.

“Oh yes, Willow and I plan to organise a small birthday party on the day of Minor’s birthday. You’ll be there, right?” You ask while making payment.

Since a long time ago, you could already sense that Willow and Minor were somewhat interested in each other, but neither have broached the topic. 

You plan to seize this opportunity to make something happen between the two.

He takes the bag from you. “Will you be there?”

“Of course! I’m one of the two people in charge.”

Gavin is silent for a while, but eventually comes to a decision.

“...I’ll go.” 

-

The gathering takes place in a karaoke lounge not far from the office. That day, you dismiss everyone from work early, then head for dinner before going to the karaoke lounge together. Gavin doesn’t join in for the dinner gathering, but goes straight to the karaoke lounge first.

The moment Minor sees Gavin seated on the sofa, he rushes over excitedly.

“Bro Gavin, you really came! That’s amazing! Even in my dreams, I wouldn’t have thought my beloved Bro Gavin would help celebrate my birthday!”

“’Beloved’, huh?” You nudge Willow, who rolls her eyes.

“Officer Gavin is a male. It’s fine.”

Gavin lifts a cup of chrysanthemum tea from the table. “Your boss invited me.”

Minor immediately rushes to you. “Boss, you’re the best. You know me so well!”

His grip around the cup tightens.

Embarrassed, you step behind Willow. “If anyone is deserving of praise, it’s Willow. She suggested it.”

With a reddened face, Minor thanks Willow.

Watching them look abashed and not speaking, you lean towards Minor. “In order to plan for this birthday, someone lost several nights of sleep. She wasn’t even that tired when working together with you in the same team.”

Gavin balls the hand resting on his leg into a tight fist.

“There are many things I’m not in a position to say, so I’ll have to trouble you to say it yourself.” You pat Willow’s shoulder.

Oh, so she was referring to Willow, Gavin releases a shaky breath, setting down the tea cup he almost shattered in his hand.

He even planned to drag Minor out to give him a beating if you were to confess your feelings to him. 

The last thing he wants to do is give you up - the person he’s been protecting for such a long time.

Seeing that the two of them are finally becoming a thing, you select a love song. With a motherly gaze, you plop yourself next to Gavin.

“What’s wrong? You look terrible.” Even the dim lights aren’t enough to conceal his pale face.

“I thought you...” Gavin speaks, but pauses halfway and doesn’t continue.

You lean back against the sofa. “You thought I liked Minor? And that I was going to confess to him?”

“Mm...”

You burst into laughter. “How could that be possible!” Turning to face him, you add. “But I do have someone I like.”

“Who.” His voice is stern.

Supporting your chin on your palm, you blink while looking at him. “He’s very tall, very handsome, likes basketball and growing succulents even though he usually fails. But he treats me really, really well.”

“...” His amber eyes dull. Gavin doesn’t speak, staring at the lyrics appearing on the screen.

Now that your feelings are off your chest, you feel relieved. But you put on a deliberately troubled expression and sigh. “I just don’t know if he likes me, and whether he’s wiling to be my boyfriend.”

“You’re such a good catch. Of course he’d be willing.” Gavin lowers his eyes, fingers rubbing the rim of the cup.

“Really? Gavin, you’re really wiling to be my boyfriend?” Your eyes sparkle, hearing your voice grow louder involuntarily.

Gavin turns to you, dumfounded, eyes filled with disbelief.

...

...

...he thought you were talking about somebody else?

The dim lights become warm, and a rare tenderness flashes across his eyes. 

Because of the person next to you, all your emotions soften by a hundredfold.

“I’ll leave myself in your care then, my girlfriend.”

[ LUCIEN ]

Recently, Lucien has gone on a business trip, and Loveland TV has been rushing to produce a documentary episode involving biology. As such, you didn’t see a need to inform Lucien about it, and have been communicating directly with his assistant, Ah Ming, to obtain his input for the shoot.

To thank him for his help, and because his birthday is coming up, you decide to make a few cream puffs as both a ‘thank you’ and birthday gift. 

Today, you didn’t notify Lucien that you’d be heading to Loveland University to give the present to Ah Ming.

Carrying the nicely packaged cream puffs, you push open the doors to Ah Ming’s office.

“Happy birthday, Ah Ming! Thanks for all your help in the programme. I made some cream puffs to express my gratitude.” You hand the gift box to him.

Ah Ming accepts the gift box, then scratches his head a little abashedly. “Thank you, Teacher’s wife. It was really a small matter.” 

[Note] Ah Ming addresses MC as 师母 (”shi mu”), which refers to the wife of one’s teacher. It sounds a little weird in English, but I couldn’t think of a better substitute T^T

He opens the cover. “Looks delicious. You must have taken a lot of trouble to make these.”

“Ah Ming, the data for the experiment...” Lucien suddenly appears at the door, and is visibly shocked by your presence. “...Wife?”

Lucien’s line of sight flits to the cream puffs on the table. With a flash in his eyes, he asks, “Is this a dessert you bought? Could I have a try?”

You purse your lips, a bad feeling surfacing in your gut.

Although Ah Ming is a little confused as to why Professor Lucien, who doesn’t usually eat sweet foods, would suddenly want to try the cream puffs, he obediently hands the box to him. “Professor Lucien, please.”

Lucien takes a cream puff and plops it into his mouth. He closes his eyes, carefully giving it a taste. “Mm, it’s delicious. Could I have all of them?”

You can’t help but pipe up. “Lucien...”

“Would my wife like to try one too?” He asks, holding up a cream puff.

When I meet his meaningful gaze, the words I had prepared are lodged in my throat. 

“If Professor is the one who wants it, of course.” Ah Ming closes the box and passes it to Lucien.

“Thank you very much,” Lucien takes the box, then holds your hand as the two of you walk towards his office. Before that, he turns his head and smiles. “Oh yes, happy birthday. I’ll give you your present later. I hope you’ll like it.”

-

Along the way, you notice that Lucien’s gripping you tightly, as though he’s afraid you’d run away. Only after reaching the office and locking the door does he loosen his grip. 

You grumble. “Lucien, how could you snatch the ‘thank you’ gift I gave to Ah Ming?”

He sets the box on the table before taking a seat, propping his chin on his palm as he looks at you. “You made him cream puffs just because he helped you once. As the programme’s consultant who has helped you on so many more occasions, how should my wife show her gratitude?”

From his tone, you can tell that the Great Professor Lucien is suffering from a bout of jealousy.

“Isn’t devoting the rest of my life to you enough?”

Hearing your response, Lucien nods in agreement. “I hope you’ll only do such things for me.”

“Not even as a birthday gift?”

“No.” Lucien’s eyes narrow. “Especially if it’s for a male.”

Every time he has this expression on his face, you know that he’s being calculative. You compromise. “All right. Since you’ve snatched Ah Ming’s gift, your present better be more thoughtful to make up for my guilt.”

“My wife is very thoughtful.” Lucien retrieves Ah Ming’s thesis out of a thick stack of documents. “I will definitely. Mark. His. Final. Year. Thesis. Properly.”

“...”

What’s with this sudden shiver running down your spine?

As though something occurs to him, Lucien pulls out a notice from his drawer. “I’ll be responsible for the gift.” With a pen, he writes Ah Ming’s name on it. “I’ll give him the opportunity to work in a Tibetan-inhabited area. That way, he wouldn’t have to compete with others.”

...Professor Lucien, Ah Ming will cry after receiving such a gift. Deepest condolences to him.

“Also,” he lifts his head to look at you. “We’ll account for how you have been giving presents to other males in the school behind my back tonight when we’re at home.”

You purse your lips, asking a question. “But how did you know I made them myself?”

He pats your head. “As long as it’s made by my wife, I’ll remember how it tastes after trying it once.”

Oh, okay then. Next time, you’ll just give them something he’s never eaten before.

He encircles your waist and draws you into his arms. Tilting your chin up slightly, he sounds mildly threatening. “I hope you’re not thinking of giving them something I've never eaten before. I’ll be able to tell.”

[ KIRO ]

Savin’s birthday is approaching, and the both of you have been counting down the days, planning to spend an unforgettable birthday with him.

“I think our well-wishes will be better expressed if we bake the cake ourselves.” You’re in the kitchen with a hand on your hip, staring at Kiro, who looks like he’d rather perish than let you touch the bag of flour.

“No way. Miss Chips can only bake cakes for me! Even if it’s Savin, I won’t allow it!” Kiro hugs the bag of flour to himself using a death grip.

“Kiro!” You exclaim fiercely.

Kiro looks wronged. “All right, but Miss Chips can’t lift a single finger. Give me instructions, and I’ll bake it.” He places the bag on the counter, and prepares a bowl to knead the flour.

“Hold on, you have to separate the egg whites from the egg yolks first. ”You stop him before he can pour flour into the bowl. “Be more careful - the egg shells will get in!”

Kiro trembles and falters as he removes the egg shell from the bowl. “Don’t be so fierce... it’s the first time I’m using the kitchen...”

“...” Who was the one brimming with confidence earlier, and asked you not to lift a finger?

After sending the kitchen into disarray, Kiro manages to bake an edible cake.

“The cream is ready too. I just need the pastry bag...” Kiro fills the pastry bag with cream. “I paint really well, so it’d definitely be a beautiful cake~” 

You recall the time the both of you did painting together, and toss him a mischievous glance. “Of course, you’re Picasso’s apprentice after all.”

“...Miss Chips!” Kiro’s flushed face expresses his unhappiness at your comment. “Forget it, I should leave such artistic endeavours to you.” Reluctantly, he hands you the pastry bag.

Since you learnt how to do it from a dessert shop in preparation for Kiro’s birthday, you draw an adorable shape on the cake with a skilled hand.

“Miss Chips, leave some space for me! I want to make a snowman for Savin.” He comments, leaning over.

Kiro holds the pastry bag slightly unsteadily, resulting in an oddly shaped snowman which looks... not that great...

Since there isn’t much time left, you store the cake in a box, grab the gift, and rush over to Savin’s place together.

The moment he opens the door, the both of you express your well-wishes in tandem: “Savin! Happy birthday!”

“Thank you. This cake looks pretty good, just that that lump of cream in the middle looks a little strange.”

Kiro is silent for a while before he says, “It’s you.”

“...”

You stifle your laughter while sticking candles onto the cake. “Savin, make a wish.”

Kiro pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket. “I’ve prepared your birthday wish for you. Just listen and repeat it: Number one, that Kiro will not put on weight. Number two, that Kiro will have an unlimited supply of snacks. Number three, that Kiro will suddenly get rich quickly. Number four, that Savin will not be fierce towards Kiro. Number five, mmhfffm-”

You cup a hand over Kiro’s mouth before Savin can shove the cake knife into Kiro’s throat. “Hahaha I’ll keep him quiet for you, Savin. Please think of your own wish, hahaha...”

Savin wordlessly sets down the knife in his hand, closing his eyes to make a wish.

Kiro grumbles softly at your ear, “You’re actually siding with Savin? Your Kiro is unhappy.”

You roll your eyes. “I was saving your life!”

Savin’s eyes snap open. “Let’s dig in. Kiro, you’re only allowed to eat the base!” He slices the cake, carefully avoiding the snowman in the middle, trying his best to retain its shape.

Kiro whips out his phone and snaps several photos. “Wishing Savin a happy birthday every year~”

Kiro’s Weibo Caption: Happy birthday Savin! I was the one who baked the cake - definitely not Miss Chips. I’m the only one who gets to eat what she makes, hmph~

After getting home, Kiro has his arm wrapped around your waist as he speaks to you in a low voice.

“Miss Chips sided with Savin today. When Kiro is angry, punishment awaits.”

[ SHAW ]

As a frequent visitor of Live House, you’re pretty familiar with the members of the band. Hence, it was no surprise that Adam would invite you to his birthday party. Not wanting to go empty-handed, yet not knowing what would be a good gift, you decide to be responsible for the cake that day.

When Shaw discovers that you’re going to specially get a cake for Adam, his brows are knitted so tightly that they could squish a mosquito. 

“Don’t be late,” he grunts.

“Got it, I’ll go immediately after work, okay?” You pack your bag and prepare to head out.

“Lower your volume, I’m not deaf.”

“...”

If domestic violence wasn’t a crime, you would have beaten him into a pulp.

-

The birthday gathering is held in a karaoke lounge. After singing a few songs, the group decides to play “Truth or Dare”.

When the tip of the bottle points towards you, you click your tongue. 

“Dare.”

One of the band members reads out the words on a “Dare” card.

“’State three positive traits of someone from the opposite gender.’ Since it’s Adam’s birthday, you could talk about his positive traits.”

Initially planning to compliment Shaw, you’re momentarily stunned. Lowering your head, you think about Adam’s merits.

You begin with a superficial trait. “Mm... he looks pretty handsome.”

Shaw crosses his legs, expressing his scorn. “Tch, someone gets a huge stack of love letters in his drawer every day.”

Pursing your lips, you suppress the urge to whack him. “I heard that Adam received good grades in university.”

Adam scratches the back of his head. “They were all right.”

Shaw takes a gulp of his mixed cola. “Someone’s twenty this year and is already a graduate student in Loveland University’s Archaeology Department.”

The band member lifts a finger. “One more.”

You think for a while. “I think you’re very skilled at the keyboard.”

“Tch, it’s just a keyboard. Someone not only knows how to play the keyboard, but also the bass and skateboard.”

“...” 

Even the summer insects are silent.

Looking at each other wordlessly, you decide to break the silence. “Shaw, why do you keep bickering with me today?”

Shaw turns away from you while Adam shrugs as though he isn’t bothered by it at all. “He’s always like that. We’re all used to it.”

The other band members nod in agreement.

“Come, let’s have cake.” Adam opens the box you brought. After sticking the candles on and lighting them up, the guitarist standing closest to the switch flicks the lights off. Everyone sings the birthday song while Adam makes a wish.

Suddenly, a sharp streak of lightning flashes across the sky. Dull thunder resounds, shattering the joyous atmosphere. The sound recording of the birthday song pauses abruptly, and Adam trembles. “Let’s turn the lights back on.”

The guitarist clicks the switch, but nothing happens. 

“I can’t. Maybe there’s a power outage? The lightning struck the circuit box, so the staff are trying to fix it now.”

Adam shakes his head in resignation. “All right, let’s just use candles for now. After finishing the cake, we’ll head back.”

--

Along the way home, you glance at Shaw, who has been silent. Poking his arm, you ask, “The lightning just now - it was you, wasn't it?”

“So what if it was? If the karaoke lounge didn’t install a lightning rod, I’d have struck them all. Why would I strike the circuit box?”

You laugh softly, tousling his lavender hair. “Such animosity - do you have to be so vicious towards your own band members?”

With a cold ‘hmph’, he turns away. “They made my girlfriend compliment another man - of course I'm angry!” 

He faces you. “Also, your boyfriend has so many merits. How could you compliment someone else in front of him?”

You burst into laughter. “It’s just a game! I was originally going to pick you, but they told me to compliment Adam instead.”

Shaw grabs your hand and quickens his pace. “You can’t do it even if it’s a game. You can only compliment me. Let’s get home quickly.”

“Walk a little slower please!” You stumble, struggling to keep up with him.

“Let’s go home! Give me compliments!”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[essays-nobody-needed]

A lyrical analysis of Four by Sleeping at Last

The song Four by Sleeping at Last presents a depiction of an artist, searching for something, but unsure of what they’re finding.

The song begins with the lyrics,

“I’m turning out the lights

To remember how to see;

Until a renaissance takes place

And resuscitates the color of paint and divinity.”

This imagery is interesting because it opens the song with two things that don’t work together literally. People clearly aren’t capable of seeing in the dark. Thus, we have to assume that remembering how to see is being used as a metaphor. In the context of the rest of the song, this gives the impression of an artistic awakening.

Turning out the lights has brought the death of color- something you can’t see in the dark. In the last line of the stanza, the author stages a coming back to life of both the physical, in paint, and the spiritual, in divinity.

These lines work together to give us an image of a person taking an abnormal path towards viewing the various levels of their art- not just physically, but in the meaning behind the piece as well. It gives a nod to the impressionist painters, who, at their core, painted what they saw, thought, and felt.

The song continues with the lines,

“As if God hid the building blocks

Of every beautiful thing.

In this game of hide and seek,

I can’t help but think that ordinary has swallowed the key.”

God hiding the building blocks of every beautiful thing brings about this imagery of somebody searching for structure within beauty. As a continuation of the previous lines, the artist is “playing hide and seek” with their tools for creation. Appreciating something beautiful isn’t enough, they want to create that beauty for themselves.

Ordinary swallowing the key seems representative of a path divergent from society’s. The speaker seems to understand that the things they’re looking for are often overlooked by others. Anybody can obtain an artistic eye, but not everybody does.

It brings up questions of the nature of an artist. Is real artistic talent as simple as being able to paint, or write, or sing? Or is it more than that? These lines present a person who innately views the world as an artist.

Moving forward, we get the lines,

“Bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust

For a moment we get to be glorious

Ice sculptures, adorned in light

Sand castles built tall, in between the tides”

These present imagery of not just finding beauty in art, but in the mundane. Life is short, but for one brief moment, we get to experience it. It’s not just about pretentious museums and literary masterpieces, it’s about the beauty in the very act of being alive.

The concept of the artistic eye is really enforced with the mentions of ice sculptures and sand castles. These are things that people ordinarily overlook, made to be wonderful by the person who truly stops to see them.

The song continues,

“Maybe I'm hiding behind metaphor

Maybe my heart needs to break to be sure

One day I'll wear it all on my sleeve

The insignificant with the sacred unique”

The interesting thing about these lines is that until now, these lyrics have been largely comprised of metaphors. The speaker acknowledges that, sounding almost ashamed by their words. It’s as though their search for artistic insight has led to their separation from reality. In fact, it’s not just a separation from reality, they’re hiding from reality. They see the beauty of our world with such intensity that seeing its suffering is equally intense. The speaker is considering that they use their art as an escape from the horrors of this world, but they’ll never know for sure until they allow their heart to break over pain in the same way it rejoices over beauty.

The speaker promises to acknowledge all of it one day, nodding at the fact that perhaps insignificance is part of what they’re running from. It’s not just the tragedies, because in a sense, there is beauty in tragedy. They’re also hiding from the mundane necessities of living.

“But I've fallen in love with a ghost

I lost my balance when I needed it most

And this blurry photograph is proof

Of what I'm not sure, but it feels like truth”

Falling in love with a ghost furthers the points from the previous lines. In falling in love with the beauty of our world, the speaker realizes that, in reality, they’ve fallen in love with a world that doesn’t exist. They’ve lost the balance between reality and their romanticization.

The blurry photograph seems representative of whatever the speaker has spent their life trying to find. They don’t know exactly what it is, but they understand that it represents truth.

“I'm stuck swimming in shadows down here

It's been forever, since I came up for air

Flashlight in hand determined to find

Authenticity, only poetry could even begin to try to describe”

The speaker realizes that their all-consuming search has led them to see only shadows of reality, and yet they forge onward, determined to find the truth within the beauty.

The song closes with the lines,

“What if we already are

Who we've been dying to become

In certain light I can plainly see

A reflection of magnificence

Hidden in you

Maybe, even in me.”

The speaker realizes that the reality of what we are and the metaphor of who we could be can co-exist. They surround themselves with the people who reflect that metaphor, so that even in the darkest moments of facing reality, they can still catch a glimpse of the magnificence they hold to dearly.

[crossguild]

thinkin bout the kepler playlist

i feel like i dont even have to go into any meta about these songs cause the lyrics speak for themselves but i'll dump it anyway 🤣

anyway tombstone blues ->

really strong implication of poverty and neglect here (esp in the chorus- 'mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes') and the other two verses stand out from the rest of the lyrics in a way that resonates pretty strongly with the character. the emotional repression (stop all this weeping, swallow your pride) and then that all but explicit confirmation that he's done a lot of stuff that's literally made him sick, but done in the service of a bigger picture, for someone he idolizes (CUTTER..)

nobody wants you when you're down and out ->

kinda in direct contrast to the first song, this one's about someone living the high life, who loses all support once he's brought low. i took it be more associated to his time at goddard rather than his early life ('once i lived the life of a millionaire' seems in opposition to 'daddy's in the alley, he's looking for food'), and we know he's willing to have spent an absurd amount of money on little luxuries. and when he's 'down and out' (aka taken as a POW on a space station 8 lightyears from earth), that's when he loses his last friend on the station

fire and rain + good times, bad times ->

there's a thread running through most of these songs about loss and regret, high highs and low lows, someone who's always trying his best and climbs far, but subsequently has a long way to fall. in the context of tombstone blues, it screams to me of someone who's scrambled and clawed his way to a significant but always precarious place. and along the way he's lost a lot of people and given up a lot of things that still haunt him, but he refuses to leave any opening where they can affect him (it's the Repression)

there's also multiple lines referring to being left by a woman 🤣 and iirc the producers have refused to answer a question about whether or not kepler has a family (while giving definitive nos to other crewmembers) so take that as you will!!

blue monday + reflector ->

wdym this whole thing isn't just Repression, Loss And Miscommunication: The Playlist

radio silence ->

actually i think mr urbina explains this one the best :

1. Once again, all songs about communication (whether successful or failed) between people are eternally relevant to the enterprise as a whole. Big bonus points if we can get blatant radio metaphors thrown in for good measure. 2. Specifically, I like it as commentary on Kepler and his current inability unwillingness to connect. He can command or inspire people, but he doesn't connect the way that, say, an Eiffel or a Maxwell does. I wonder about how he feels about that. A lot. 3. The ghostly tone of it just goes with Kepler for some reason. There is an aesthetic click there.

don't stop me now ->

bi kepler hours aside this is another one i'll let mr. urbina describe for himself (':

Another Claire suggestion, and another one that I am deeply ashamed to not have arrived at myself. For all of Kepler’s statements about how he’s been consumed by his job, it is important to remember: he is here by choice. He has chosen to the do the things that he’s doing, more so than any non-Cutter character that we’ve met. And there is this sense of willful forward momentum to him: even if he’s following orders he’s doing things because - and the way - that he wants to. Whether that is true or an act - and if it’s an act, whether it’s addressed at others or at himself - he is dedicated to maintaining that impression. And nothing, nothing, captures that sensation and those layers quite the way that Freddie Mercury does.

I’m burning through the sky yeah, two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit…

and ok, i'm out of images for this post but does a playlist ever just haunt you. does it ever just. haunt u.

[shirlleycoyle]

How 9/11 Became Fan Fiction Canon

Every fictional character you can think of has experienced 9/11 in fanfiction.

A Clone Wars veteran with two lightsabers is on United Airlines Flight 93 and prevents it from crashing. Ron and Hermione get caught up in the chaos as the towers fall. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and her friends watch the attacks unfold on TV from Sunnydale. We have spent 20 years trying to process what happened on 9/11 and its fallout, and that messy process can be tracked through the countless, sad, disturbing, and sometimes very funny fanfiction left across the internet.

Many of the fanfics written in the weeks and months following the 9/11 attacks seemed to directly respond to the news as it happened, processing the tragedy in real-time through the eyes of characters they loved. In the absence of a canon episode where Daria Morgendorffer paid respects to those lost, writing fanfic about these characters also experiencing trauma helped fans cope.

One YuGiOh fanfic published on fanfiction.net in May 2002 could have been ripped exactly from what this writer experienced that Tuesday morning. “It started as a normal day,” user Gijinka Renamon wrote. Yugi and his friends were in school, where their teacher informed them of the attacks and sent everyone home from school.

“After reading people’s 9/11 fics, I decided to write my own, and put a certain character in it. And Yugi and his pals were my first choice,” the author's note reads, explaining the connection they felt to United flight 93 and the World Trade Center attacks. Given that they lived in Pennsylvania, and “it’s close to New York, I felt really sad about it.”

Stitch, a fandom journalist for Teen Vogue, told Motherboard that this reaction to 9/11 is not at all uncommon in fandom.

"Fandom has always been a place that positions nothing as 'off limits,'" she said. "Historical tragedies like the Titanic sinking and atrocities like… all of World War 2 show up regularly across the past 30 years of people creating stories and art about the characters they love. So, on some level, it makes sense that 9/11 and the following 20-year military installation in the Middle East has joined the ranks of things people in different fandoms turn into settings for their fan fiction."

Reactions depicted in a handful of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfics published in the weeks after the attacks ring a little truer to the characters. “Tuesday, 11th September 2001,” written by Anna K, almost echoes the lyrics from “I’ve Got a Theory,” one of the songs in the musical episode that aired in November 2001. “We have seen the apocalypse. We have prevented it. Actually, we’ve prevented quite a few. So we know what they look like,” they write, before taking a darker turn. “They look a lot like…New York today.”

Killing demons and vampires doesn’t phase the Scooby Gang, but when preventable human death is brought into the picture, it’s gut wrenching.

“What am I supposed to do…When I can’t do anything to save the world?” Buffy cries  into Spike’s chest, watching the attacks unfold on TV in a fanfic the author described as being “about feeling numb and helpless.”

In “Blood Drive,” Kirayoshi writes about Buffy and her friends saving a van full of donated blood meant for victims of the attacks from a group of thirsty vampires. One Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic even takes a blindly patriotic turn, where noted lesbian witch Tara McClay helps Xander hang an American flag from the window of the magic shop to make Anya feel better.

Experiencing 9/11 as a young teenager was overwhelming not just because of the loss of life. Almost immediately after the event itself, it was as if the entirety of American culture re-oriented itself towards an overtly jingoistic stance. As we get distance from the attacks, seeing the tone of television and movies from the early 2000s is jarring, and some have gone viral on Twitter. In the world of pop music, mainstream musicians like the Chicks, formerly known as the Dixie Chicks, were blacklisted from the radio while Toby Keith sang about putting a boot up the ass of terrorists. On the Disney Channel, a young Shia Labeouf reading a poem he supposedly wrote about the events. The poem concludes with the line, "it's awesome to be an American citizen."

In a world so completely saturated with this messaging, it is not surprising that fanfic authors started including 9/11 in their work so soon after the event. Even The West Wing had a strange, out of continuity, fanfic-esque episode where the characters reacted to 9/11. In some cases, it made sense that the characters in the stories would be close to or a part of the events themselves.

"For characters like John Watson or Captain America, the idea works to an extent," Stitch told Motherboard. "In the original Sherlock Holmes works and the 2011 BBC series, Watson had just returned from Afghanistan. For Captain America and other Marvel heroes, 9/11 was something that was addressed in-universe in The Amazing Spider-Man volume 2 #36. Technically, 9/11 is 'canon' to the Marvel universe."

In “Early Warning: Terrorism,” a fanfiction for the TV show Early Edition in which a man who mysteriously receives tomorrow's newspaper, predicting the future, avoids jingoism, but tries to precent 9/11 from happening. This fanfic remains unfinished; it’s unclear if the characters successfully prevent 9/11 in this retelling.

Largely in fanfic from the era just after 9/11, when many young authors were trying to emotionally grapple with it, the characters don't re-write or undo the events themselves. It's this emphasis on the reaction to tragedy that colors the fanfiction that features 9/11 going forward.

Although fanfiction authors have been writing about 9/11 consistently since soon after the event, whenever that fanfiction reaches outside of its intended audience, it looks bizarre.

A screenshot of a Naruto 9/11 fanfic on the Tumblr subreddit comes without any context, or even more than two lines and an author's note. It’s impossible to suss out if this falls into the category of sincere fanfic without the rest of the piece or a publication date, but modern-day commenters on the Reddit thread see it as classic Tumblr trash.

Screenshot from r/Tumblr

“Bin Laden/Dick Cheney, enemies to lovers, 10k words, slow burn,” one user joked in the replies, underscoring the weirdness of Naruto being in the Twin Towers by comparing it to a What If story about Cheney and Bin Laden slowly falling deeply in love.

It’s hard to tell how much of the 9/11 fanfic and fanart starting a few years after the attacks is sincere, and how much of it is ironic, and trying to make fun of the very concept of writing fanfiction about 9/11.

A 2007 anime music video (in which various clips, usually from anime, are cut together to music) that combines scenes from The Lion King with Linkin Park’s “Crawling” and clips from George Bush’s speeches immediately after the attacks feels like the perfect example of this. Even the commenters can’t seem to suss out if this person is a troll or not.

There’s no way that My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic 9/11 fanart could be serious, right? Especially if the description pays tribute to “some of the nation's most memorable buildings,” and features five of the main characters as child versions of themselves. The comments again are split between users thanking the artist for a thoughtful remembrance post, and people making their own headcanon for why Twilight Sparkle is surreptitiously absent from the scene.

Screengrab via DeviantArt

There’s Phineas and Ferb fanfic that combines a 9/11 tribute concert with flashbacks to Ferb being rescued from the towers as a baby, written on the 10th anniversary of the attacks. It jumps from introspection to lines like, “‘Quiet Perry the Platypus. I’m trying to listen to these kids singing a 9/11 tribute.’”

The author's notes make it more likely that they meant for this to be a tribute piece, but it doesn’t quite make sense until watching a YouTube dramatic reading of it from 2020, fully embracing the absurdity of it all.

“For me, 9/11 is synonymous with war. It completely changed the course of my life," Dreadnought, the author of a Captain America fanfic Baghdad Waltz that sees Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fall in love over the course of the war on terror, told Motherboard. "It’s the reason I joined the military, and I developed deep connections with people who would go on to deploy to Afghanistan and Iraq. These very much felt like my generation’s wars, perhaps because people I graduated high school with were the youngest folks eligible to serve at the time.”

Dreadnought told Motherboard that although they didn't deploy, their career has kept 9/11 and the trauma from it in their mind. After seeing that people who fantasize about Steve and Bucky getting together seemed particularly interested in reading fanfiction that related to 9/11, they decided to try their hand at it.

"I had to do something with all of that emotionally, and I’m admittedly a bit emotionally avoidant. So I learned through fic that it’s easier for me to process those feelings and the knowledge of all the awful stuff that can happen in war if I can turn it into something creative," Dreadnought said. "Give the feelings to fake people and then have those fake people give the feelings to readers!"

To Dreadnought, who is a queer man, the experience of researching and writing this was more cathartic than they first expected, especially as a way to navigate feelings about masculinity, military culture, and queer identity. But they said the research they did, which included watching footage of first responders at ground zero, was what helped them finally process the event itself.

"It was like a delayed horror, and it was more powerful than I expected it would be." Dreadnought said. "When I was eighteen, I was pretty emotionally divorced from 9/11; I just knew I wanted to do something about it. So coming back to it in my 30s while writing this fic, it was a very different experience. Even the research for this story ended up being an extraordinarily valuable exercise in cognitively and emotionally processing 9/11 and all of its second and third order effects."

Fanfiction that features 9/11 provides an outlet for people who still grapple with the trauma from that day. But Stitch warns that the dynamics of fandom and how it relates to politics can also create fiction that's less respectful and more grotesque.

"With years of distance between the stories written and the original events of 9/11, there seems to be some sort of cushion for fans who choose to use those events as a catalyst for relationships—and Iraq and Afghanistan for settings," Stitch said. "The cushion allows them room to fictionalize real world events that changed the shape of the world as we know it, but it also insulates them from having to think about what they may be putting into the world."

The tendency of turning these events into settings or backgrounds for mostly white, male characters to fall in love has the unintended effect of displacing the effects that the war on terror has had on the world over. Steve and Bucky might fall in love during the war on terror, but they would also be acting as a part of the American military in a war that has been criticized since it started. Fanfic writers in other fandoms have come under fire for using real world tragedy as settings for fic before. In the aftermath of the 2010 Haiti earthquake Supernatural fanfiction about the actors Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki going to the island to do aid became controversial within the fandom. There have also been fics where characters grapple with the death of George Floyd that is written in a way that displaces the event from the broader cultural context of race in America.

"A Captain America story where Steve Rogers is a 'regular' man who joins the US Army and 'fights for our freedom' post-9/11 is unlikely to deal with the war’s effect on locals who are subject to US military intervention," Stitch said. "It’s unlikely to sit with what Captain America has always meant and what a writer is doing by dropping Steve Rogers into a then-ongoing conflict in any capacity."

After enough time, “never forget” can even morph into “but what if it never happened?” A 19k+ word Star Wars alternate universe fanfic asks this question, wondering what would have unfolded if someone with two lightsabers was on United Flight 93. This fic, part of a larger fanfic series with its own Wikia, considers what would have happened if Earth was a military front in the Clone Wars.

In this version of events, a decorated general who served in the Clone Wars is able to take back control of Flight 93 before it crashes, landing safely and preventing even more tragedy from happening that day. In the end, all of the passengers who made harrowing last calls to their loved ones before perishing in a Pennsylvania field survive thanks to the power of the Force, and are awarded medals of honor by President Bush.

Twenty years after the attacks, it’s painful to think about what would have happened if people got to work 15 minutes later, or missed their trains that morning. There weren’t Jedi masters deployed to save people in real life, but for some of the fanfic writers working today, the world of Star Wars might feel just as removed as the world before September 11, 2001.

Fiction serves as a powerful playground for processing cultural events, especially generational trauma. The act isn't neutral though; a decade's worth of fanfiction that takes place on or around 9/11 shows how our own understanding of a traumatic event can shift with time.

How 9/11 Became Fan Fiction Canon syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums: lots of people love Gary Numan. But they tend to love his very early work, and his very recent work, without a whole lot vouching for the stuff in between. My favourite work of Numan’s is 1984′s Berserker, a true gem buried in the sands of many, many mediocre albums. Find out what makes it so great by watching my video, or reading the transcript below!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! This time around, we’re looking at a fairly famous artist, and at one of his not-as-famous works: Gary Numan’s Berserker, first released in 1984.

For the most part, if you’re a fan of Numan, you’re either a fan of his earliest work, and/or, his recent work since the 1990s, and there’s a substantive slump in between these two. In 1979, the artist made a tremendous splash with his initial hits “Cars” and “Are ‘Friends’ Electric?”, but after the release of his second solo LP, Telekon, only the following year, the public rapidly began to sour on Numan’s android antics. While his early work is held in high regard, and perhaps even unassailable for synth fans, most of his other work in the 1980s is met with a lot more scrutiny.

Numan’s bad days arguably came to a head with 1983’s Warriors. Warriors was initially meant to have been produced by the great Bill Nelson, whose work Numan evidently much admired. However, the artists’ clashing personalities allegedly made it impossible for them to work together, and Nelson left the project and had his name removed from it. Besides this period’s poor aesthetic decisions, showcasing Numan with blond hair and head-to-toe leather like a very sorry Billy Idol clone, Warriors feels like a mess of disjointed sonic ideas, losing the nucleus of what had made Numan special.

Music: “Sister Surprise”

Like most of Numan’s work from this period, Warriors was not only a flop in the eyes of critics, but also an arguable commercial failure. It would go on to be the final record he released on the Beggars’ Banquet label; after its release, he decided to take matters into his own hands and start an independent label, Numa Records. This is where Berserker comes in, having been the first independent release Numan got to make. And I think it shows, in that the album comes across as extremely focused in its themes, as well as very willing to do things that are more novel and unique.

Music: “Berserker”

The album’s title track was its lead single, as well as its opener. As it opens the album with the line, “I’ve been waiting for you,” I can’t help but feel that I, too, have been waiting for Gary Numan, whose true genius lay dormant for some years, like the fabled king under the mountain. The title track’s screeching guitar is, perhaps ironically, more reminiscent of Bill Nelson’s famous guitar work than anything on Warriors. Overall, I can’t help but feel it resembles the general template of Numan’s celebrated later work, with its emphasis on jagged electronic textures rather than traditional instruments, as well as its lyricism, portraying an abstractly menacing narrator who seems as inscrutable and inhuman as they do dangerous. In that sense, it’s a bit of a glimpse into Numan’s future. Still, one can’t deny that Berserker remains an album that feels “of its time,” take it or leave it, as on the second and final single, “My Dying Machine.”

Music: “My Dying Machine”

“My Dying Machine” seems to revolve around its woodsy, sample-based percussion track, perhaps reminiscent of Geinoh Yamashirogumi’s work with gamelans and jegogs for the soundtrack of the famous film Akira, later in the 1980s--albeit less organic and more precisely mechanical. It’s a sound that I can’t get enough of, personally, but it’s also something that springs directly from the advancements in sampling technology that were becoming more accessible by this time. The use of female backing vocalists, heard on many tracks throughout the album, is another touch that grounds Berserker in a mid-80s context, as it was a fairly common trend at the time. But I’d argue that the employment of this technique enriches the album: Numan’s backing choir seem no less haunting than he does, surrounding him like sirens on a desolate crag, harrying us with hooks that in the past might have been played on an early synthesiser instead. The contrast of these female voices also helps highlight the greater vocal range that Numan himself attempts on this album. Squawking at higher pitches had been serviceable earlier in his career, when he remained more indebted to punk, but on Berserker, we really get a lot of his chest voice, and he proves himself to be a surprisingly competent vocalist on tracks like “Cold Warning.”

Music: “Cold Warning”

Earlier, I argued that Berserker’s title track prefigured Numan’s later albums, but I was mainly comparing lead singles to lead singles. “Cold Warning,” I think, sounds a lot like the typical album track on a recent Numan album: slower-paced, somewhat atmospheric, and ominous in a more moody and subtle manner as opposed to directly threatening. Note also its intro, with its prominent use of a viola, which really stands out against Berserker’s overall more electronic soundscape. By this point, Numan had been no stranger to incorporating traditional instruments; earlier in his career, he’d been impressed by the work of Billy Currie of Ultravox, who played not only synthesisers, but also string instruments like viola, in the context of a rock group. Numan had gone as far as to hire Currie to perform on his 1979 LP The Pleasure Principle, and its accompanying tour. Still, I think “Cold Warning” reminds me less of The Pleasure Principle, and more of Numan’s more recent efforts--particularly his 2021 album Intruder, which features Gorkem Sen playing the yaybahar, a novel string instrument of the latter’s own invention. Still, for as much as Berserker stands out as one of the least commercial endeavours from this period of Numan’s career, it’s not totally devoid of pop influences. Take, for example, the track “This Is New Love.”

Music: “This Is New Love”

From its title alone, “This Is New Love” seems to announce itself as something more conventional and accessible, and indeed, its lyrics are more straightforward than what you’ll find elsewhere on Berserker. Those omnipresent backing vocalists are given a pleasingly hooky assignment here, and the instrumental arrangement, dominated by that oh-so-80s slap bass, is also less abrasive, and an apparent nod towards pop. If this track were also a scrying crystal, I’d say it looks ahead to Numan’s near future, and lighter, more funky tracks like “Your Fascination.”

Of course, I can’t do Berserker justice without talking about the visual side of this period in Numan’s career. Front and center on the cover of the album, as well as contemporary supplemental releases like singles, we see Numan in the distinctive makeup associated with this era: solid white skin, with striking, solid, deep blue hair, eyes, and lips. On one hand, his appearance here shares a lot in common with where he got started, generally painted white with a lot of dark eyeliner, but there’s also an element of newness about it, in the use of that brilliant blue. Visually as well as musically, Berserker feels to me like the ideal thing for an artist to be doing by the time of his eighth major release: whittling down to the very best elements that defined their initial work, while incorporating and experimenting with new ideas at the same time. The last time we saw a headshot of Numan on the cover of an album was the aforementioned Telekon, but in contrast to the ambiguous and perhaps diffident expression Numan had there, on the cover of Berserker, he seems much more sure of himself. Staring directly forward, with perhaps a hint of anger suggested in his brows, he seems to regard us with confidence, and a certain single-mindedness.

Taken together, Berserker is an album that “convinces,” expressing a clarity, certainty, and cohesiveness of creative ideas. Like the savage and frenzied warriors of the Old Norse skalds, Berserker comes after us relentlessly, invoking something otherworldly as it does so.

But as much as Berserker seems like such a determined statement, Numan never necessarily made an album that was exactly like it. He seems to have a relative soft spot for it, in that he still performs tracks from this album in live sets despite largely snubbing the rest of his 80s output, but Berserker didn’t exactly revolutionize the way he approached music at the time. For Numan, the 1980s were largely a time of throwing things at the wall to see what stuck, and, as mentioned above, we know he wouldn’t find what stuck for him until a decade after the release of Berserker. If you’re looking for more of this sound, your best bet might be the 1985 single “Change Your Mind,” a collaboration between Numan and Bill Sharpe of the jazz-funk outfit Shakatak. While combining Numan’s sound with funk may sound a bit strange, it’s something that many of the synth whizzes from earlier in the decade had started doing to remain relevant in the mid-to-late 1980s, and at least on this cracking single, it seems to come together pretty well.

Music: “Change Your Mind”

My favourite track on Berserker is “The Hunter.” While I’ve emphasized the extent to which Berserker is a forward-looking album for Numan in a sea of mostly forgotten mistakes, “The Hunter” is the track that feels the most to me like it could be a classic Numan work, and I can easily imagine a lower-tech version of it appearing on Telekon. Just listen to that delightful air-raid siren synth rendition of the main vocal hook, and I’m sure you’ll agree! That’s everything for today, thanks for listening!

Music: “The Hunter”

[dimonds456]

What was “A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak” Really About?

What was Zach Callison’s A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak really about?

Hey all you people out there! How are you surviving quarantine? I had a bunch of spare time, and so I decided to write an essay that focuses on Zach Callison’s album, A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak. The album has been out for a while, but most people either only know Interlude IV or are really confused about the story it tells. I think I’ve finally got an answer, and I wanted to share it with you all.

If you’re only here to better understand Interlude IV, you can skip down there if you want, but you’ll still be pretty confused. Besides, you should listen to the rest of the album. The whole thing bops. 

Personal favorite song is Phantom Love, but I’m pretty sure no one cares about that.

Anyways, on to the show! One song at a time, in order.

WARNING: REALLY, REALLY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT!!

Phantom Love

Phantom Love sets up the whole story for us. Juanita is Zach’s old GF, who appears to only have dated him so she could get ideas for a music album she was writing. However, she had no ideas and/or is a masochist, and so wanted to get Zach to either break up with her, do something horrible to her, or just create drama in general she could write about. Whatever happens happens, and she is successful. 

Juanita seems to be suffering from some form of depression, but whether that’s actually the case or she, again, just wanted something to write about is up for debate. But either way, it’s hinted at several times that she slit her wrists and other self-harm-inducing activities. 

Many people follow her- she seems to be popular enough (which makes sense, due to the album being about two celebrities dating each other, just like Zach’s irl relationship). However, she has two different faces- her showbiz the-cameras-are-on face and her real face. Zach seems to have the same thing, as hinted at in She Don’t Know, but we’re not there yet. Point is, Juanita used Zach to try and get a tragedy out of the whole deal.

It was a phantom love- it never existed. 

“Made me promise I would never break your heart

How was I to know that’s what you wanted from the start?”

Both people got into Hollywood from a young age and grew up with it, and so were surrounded by drama constantly. This takes a toll on Zach, but he tries to deal with it whereas Juanita actively wants to partake in it. She causes drama- little triggers to get him to snap- until one day, he does.

Interlude I - Frantically

This one is pretty straight-forward. After the two break up, it’s the perfect excuse for Juanita to start spreading rumors and stirring tension. She’s quick to make Zach out to be the bad guy, when in actuality, he was the one who was being loyal in their relationship.

We’re clued in that these rumors aren’t true from one line: “I heard he got fired from that cartoon he does. (Nooo wayyy…)” We, as the audience, know for a fact he didn’t, but things get shaky as we realize that some of them are also true. 

“I heard he does coke now and, like, screams a lot.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

[laughter]

Zach overhears them talking about them and runs away, going off somewhere to be alone. Once he’s alone, we get the disturbing audio of him sniffing some drugs, implying that he actually does, indeed, do coke.

DISCLAIMER: Irl Zach Callison did NOT turn to drugs! It’s a metaphor for how many people he knows who have decided to do so, and so he;s aware of what it does to one’s mind. Don’t worry; Zach is okay in that department.

She Don't Know

After gaining the following knowledge, this song is easier to understand. Zach really did love Juanita, and he misses her, even though he knows at this point that she used and abused him. 

“There ain’t no drug in all the world like loving you

Cocaine and cigarettes will have to do

Won’t somebody save me? My heart’s beating outta m’ chest

I just wanna hold you with those hands I once possessed.”

Juanita isn’t aware of the effect she had on him, and he laments this quite strongly (hence the title). Once she had her heartbreak, she ran off, leaving a broken lover behind. 

Trigger warning: there are hints of suicidal thoughts in this song. They get more prominent as the album goes on, which becomes important later. This is where we really start seeing them, though.

“F***ed up on my bedroom floor

And my first thought’s ‘let’s do some more’

They say it all kills for thrills

And I hope it does!

Can you hear me, love?”

He speaks about “where did I go” later on, meaning that he is losing himself/doesn’t feel like himself. He still wants to be with her, and her absence has utterly destroyed him. He’s still in love with her, and wants her to know that. However, Juanita doesn’t give a bat of the eye in his direction, only caring that she now had the material she needed to write her album.

Interlude II - Christie Only Knows

Here, we are introduced to Zach’s make-believe sister, Christie. Only she is aware that he is going through this, and we find out quickly that she isn’t supportive.

“It’s getting late now, but to me, it’s just beginning

‘Cuz life’s tearing me to pieces and I know I’ve been defeated

Oh, no

And Christie only knows.

Never seen someone like this before

An eight-ball power on the floor

And I’m staring at the ceiling 

Wondering if the reaper’s close

But Christie only knows

That there ain’t no drug in all the world like being you

\Glory on the silver screen just had to do

Won’t somebody save me? I am screaming out of breath

And my shadow, he’s holding a gun…

With those hands that I once possessed…”

This is the only time I’ll put all the lyrics in here, I swear. However, this one is important as it paves the way to Nightmare, bridging the gap between the two moods. She Don’t Know is angry, stressed, unsure, and frustrated, whereas Nightmare is just… depression. Interlude II is the middle ground, showing us that once Zach got all that off his chest, he feels… numb. He doesn’t know what to do. 

Now, who exactly is Christie? I don’t think she really exists, in the context of the album, that is. I believe that Christie is someone he’s hallucinating, an embodiment of all his most negative thoughts, sugarcoated into something pretty and worth listening to. We’ll explore her character later on in Interlude IV - Showtime, but for now, what you need to know is that his suicidal thoughts are getting more and more intense now that she’s here.

A sister is someone who you’re bonded to, whether it be in blood, relationship, or cause. In this case, I think it’s more relationship. She is telling him to let go, to accept that things are this way and won’t get better. It’d be easier to end it. And Zach is listening to her. We know this because of the line “And my shadow, he’s holding a gun with those hands that I once possessed…” He is seriously thinking about it, and the fact that it’s his shadow shows that the thought is always in the back of his mind. The same thoughts that led him to love Juanita are now ready to kill him- those same, once-steady hands he used to hold her with. And he’s done. He’s holding on by a thread.

Nightmare

This song is told in the 3rd person as Zach really explains what he’s been going through each and every day that lead him to this fateful decision to end it. He is done. He’s decided it. 

Every day, he cries. He hates himself, he hates looking at himself, he hates all of it. 

“Prosecutor at his own trial, 

The floor below him becomes so fertile 

by his very own vile, Nile, and exile source 

By the pitter-patter of his tears on the bathroom tile… 

...you’re nothing more than your feelings 

from your floors to your ceilings 

and out the all-bloodshot ocular faucets… 

Boy vs brain, white noise vs the sane, 

always vs the same, cries for help exclaim 

that he’s beyond repair. He’ll swear, he’ll despair, he’ll stare 

straight ahead in the mirror at the source of his waking nightmare.”

There’s an instrumental break, during which he says “Are you writing this down, Christie? Yeah…” This shows that he’s lamenting to himself, as again, Christie doesn’t really exist. He’s venting to her, jotting down everything that’s wrong with him.

This tells me that he’s writing a note. He is telling someone where he’s going and why he did what he’s about to do. Remember, Christie is in Zach’s head, and so if she is writing this down, that means that Zach is writing this down. His worst, most negative thoughts are writing all this down, showing him that this was the right decision. This will end all his suffering, and whoever reads the note will understand and be happy for him. This was his solution.

“He’s standing on a bluff overlooking the city

The city’s biggest bluff is making itself look so pretty

He tells himself to be tough, isolated and gritty

But gritty’s kinda hard when his brain’s run by committee”

This is how he decides to die. Now with a gunshot like Interlude II hinted at. He is willing to jump for it.

Look at the album cover. Did he go for it? I don’t think so, but we’ll get to that.

The song concludes with him saying this:

“So who do I speak of and why is he grey?

He rejects all his love, see the prices he pays

To his vices he caves, in a crisis of fates

No tragic history, only a mystery 

So I say to you, ‘who?’

Why don't’cha tell me?”

This is him confirming to us, the audience, that this is Zach’s character speaking about himself. He’s been hinting and clueing at us to this song all along, and now he is making sure that we know what’s going on in his head. He’s ready to end it. 

His love for Juanita broke his heart so severely that it left him broken and bruised beyond repair. And if you can’t fix it, it’s time to throw it away.

So he heads back out to the bluff to jump.

Interlude III - Second Thoughts

He’s standing on a bluff overlooking the city. The bluff’s height is making itself not so pretty. Is this being tough? Or just being petty? But petty’s not likely, it’s a selfish, single entity…

Doe she really want to do this? Looking down, Zach thinks about what made him come here. The drugs? They’re messing him up. He’s aware of it, he’s been aware of it. Would jumping be giving in to their influence? Or Juanita’s? 

“We put his record on until he’s bleeding on the needle

And he’s weeping in the street

Cut down on his curtain call

That’s where he’s gonna sleep.”

Standing on top of the bluff now, he looks down onto the road. He can see that there is where he could die, but he’s suddenly not so sure. The idea just slammed into him, reality slapping him in the face. “Do you really want to do this?” 

“Take aim with these hands he once possessed

A dozen roses on the pavement laid the rest

Oh, my dear sister Christie, will I feel some remorse?

She says ‘no, pull the trigger, ‘cuz he’s left us no recourse.

His brain has a sickness, so kill it at the source.’”

He steps closer. He can see, in his mind, the image of his dead body lying on the road, forever resting. But, was that the right call? To just throw in the towel like that? So, in true metaphorical fashion, he turns and asks Christie. His inner demons. They’ve been straight with him before, right? And, of course, they say “yes, go for it.”

But Zach still isn’t sure.

I believe he backs off for now, leading the way to Curtain Call.

Curtain Call

This is where it really starts to get difficult when it comes to dissecting this album, and from here on out, I guarantee that I got things wrong. However, stay with me, because I’m open to and want to discuss what everyone else thinks it all could mean. I’m going to share my ideas, and if you have a better one, tell me and I can either agree or argue it with you. Point is, like English class (in high school), if you have the evidence to back it up, you’re not wrong. Let’s have a serious discussion about this.

On with the show! Now, it appears as though Zach is arguing with himself in this one, one wanting to show people that he’s hurt so he can get help- the side that wants to live- but on the other hand, his other half knows that there’s nothing they can do if he does. He’d just weigh them all down. Because all of him agrees that he’s useless and hopeless. 

He sends up a prayer (I think Zach is Christian, so this makes sense), asking for, basically, karma of some kind. He’s done feeling this way, and wants it to stop. So he asks for “some price to pay,” hoping that there’s a solution, but knowing that the solution isn’t going to be handed to him on a silver platter. He’d need to work to get better, and this is him saying that he’s willing to do that. He WANTS to live, but he’s just not sure he can anymore. And that’s his main argument. Can he do this? Was it even worth it?

Obviously, with Zach being a famous actor (both irl and in the album), he has a double life. One is bringing joy to others, while the other is a constant internal struggle. The world is a stage, and at this point, Zach is basically admitting- through metaphors- that he has been acting. Pretending. 

Consider this lyric, put there- side by side- very intentionally:

“I find that I’m anything but fine.

No, I’m okay. Oh please just look away!”

It’s all a mask. And it’s one he’s tired of wearing. Notice how tired he sounds when he sings those lines. He’s done. He’s been done.

“Bourbon to kill my pain

Curtains to hold my shame

No, they can’t look away

Cannot contain my rage…”

These lines are telling us that people around Zach have started to notice that he’s off, but he wants to believe that he’s okay, that he’ll be okay. So he continues his career (“curtains to hold my shame”), even though it’s hurting him to do so at that point. And people are starting to notice. And that’s making him frustrated. At himself. At them. He’s tired. Let him rest. He just wants to rest and forget. Bourbon, alcohol, kill the pain. Make it go away so they can’t see. But they already see. The mask is old and withering in decay.

Towards the end, Zach’s voice becomes more echoey and distant (discluding the Italian that I have no hope of understanding, which is why I’ve yet to mention it). This shows that he’s distancing himself, running away, if you will.

Running back to the bluff.

And this time, he jumps.

Interlude IV - Showtime

Okay, meme time. This is the one everyone knows. However, we are not going to be talking about a Connverse fight that honestly makes no sense given the limited context of the song (as cool as those animatics are). We will be talking about, however, Zach facing and challenging his inner demons. Christie does not exist. Why should she rule over his life?

Let’s break this one down, since this one is the hardest to fit into the story.

He jumps, but survives the fall. Maybe dazed, maybe broken. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe this song IS the dream. We can’t be sure. Everything is metaphorical in this one. Perhaps he didn’t jump at all. We can’t be sure.

Christie congratulates him. She tells him that he’s free. He did the right thing, and now it was just the two of them. They could do whatever they wanted without feeling so weighed down!

Zach disagrees, coming to a realization.

He jumped. Christie had said that it’d make everything okay again, that it’d be bliss. Well, he jumped, and it wasn’t. It was worse. He felt anger and fear, and this leads him to finally, for once, counter her. 

“The world is ours!”

“No it isn’t.”

“Get in the car.”

“This isn’t finished.”

“...What?”

She’s shocked that Zach openly argues with her, and as their bickering goes on (which I’m sure a lot of you reading this can hear perfectly in your heads, so I won’t write the exact lyrics down), Zach gains more confidence. He accuses her of murdering him. “And they’ll all think that it was suicide, but Christie, I know that it was you inside.” Remember, she’s not real and therefore didn’t really “kill” him, but he blames her as he allowed her to control and manipulate him. 

Christie is shocked, stating that everything she did, she did to comfort him. ”I saved him! I held him ‘til the moment he [Zach’s “innocence”] died!”) However, Zach realizes what she really is now, and decides that enough is enough. (“You choked him out of his goddamn mind! Promised the world to him, a goddamn lie!”) He knows what she is, and won’t let himself be manipulated by her again. 

Now, the whole time, they’re talking about someone who is dead. Who is that someone? Zach. However, it’s all a metaphor. When Zach jumped, a part of him died. The last of his humanity? His sanity? I think his “innocence,” which I say in quotes because I’m sure there’s a better word for it out there somewhere. He’s done being blind to the truth, blindly following Christie around. The part of him that was naive enough to do that, to listen to her influence and complain about the world, is gone. He’s dead.

And that means Zach isn’t taking anymore s***. 

C: “I won’t help you take [Juanita] down.”

Z: “Fine. I’LL DO IT BY MYSELF!”

C: “You don’t need it!”

Z: “Oh, I know that I need it.”

C: “She’s been gone for years, I know you can beat it!”

Z: “Oh, look in the mirror, you know we both fear her…

But you let me kill him, you’re WORSE than Juanita!”

Juanita herself never killed him. She never physically harmed him, not in any way that counts here. However, Christie did. She pushed and pushed him, taking a fragile boy and breaking him even more. Zach is now his own worst enemy, not Juanita, and this is him realizing it. But he doesn’t want to be his own enemy.

C: “I won’t help you take her down.”

Christie doesn’t want Zach to face her, because she knows that that would be him really facing his demons and starting down the path to healing. Juanita is Zach’s biggest obstacle, aside from himself. He has to face himself first, and that’s why this song is so powerful. Zach is taking a step back and realizing what he has to do, who he is, and why things are like this.

Z: “Oh, look in the mirror, you know we both fear her. 

We’re one and the same, we’re afraid to be near her!”

There’s that mirror metaphor again, except that he’s not looking at himself with hatred; he’s looking at himself with understanding (and a side of hatred). He’s ready to face her. He’s ready to get everything to stop.

“1, 2, 3, 4

Is this what love is really for? 

Is this all I get for being yours?

The kid in front of me in blood and gore?”

The kid is, again, Zach’s “innocence.” He understands, he’s ready to not only move on, but also confront her.

5, 6, 7, 8

Years left to waste for all I hate

They’ll all know Juanita’s fate!

Show’s about to start; don’t be late.”

He knows that it’s going to be a showdown, a big, epic throw down. And Christie isn’t coming with him. He’s leaving her behind. He’s leaving his demons behind, breaking free from them and moving on.

War!

The ultimate throw down begins!

“A wise man once said, ‘time is money’

So how much money did I lose to you, honey?

Find it kinda funny you wanna keep this feud runnin’

But I’m glad I’m on your mind, keep that canon fire coming, woah!”

This is 100% a diss track. Zach confronts Juanita in front of a lot of her friends (we hear multiple girls go “huh?” as they realize that Zach’s here and he’s ANGRY), and immediately starts in. No introductions, no “hey it’s nice to see you again”s, nothing. He’s here to make a statement, and he’s gonna do so.

He realizes Juanita for who she is now, and she has done so many horrible things to him. Spreading rumors and lies to ruin his life, after dating him just to get a story to write about. He’s sick of it and done. He calls her out, and it’s important that he does this in front of other people so they see what she’s really done. He’s hurt, he’s been hurt, and it’s because of Juanita, this amazing person a lot of people looked up to and liked (“I know, Juanita deserves so much more [Interlude I]”. “Step inside the life of the men weak enough to follow you [Phantom Love]). 

Juanita also appears to be dating someone else by this time. This is really important, because now due to context clues we got from before, the only reason Juanita dates is to get a heartbreak out of it so she can have the motivation and drive to write her own album. That’s why she dated Zach. So, if she’s dating again, that means she either lost the motivation and drive again, or she never had it in the first place since it wasn’t a real love between them. She didn’t truly experience a heartbreak at all. This is further backed up by the claim that “we’ve been waiting on your album for ages, no traces, and baby, we’ve already run out of patience!” She’s only dating to get that experience again.

This means that, at least in Zach’s eyes, she hasn’t changed. “To your new boy, let he be warned: you’re her new toy for blood and gore! What, you didn’t know?” She is going to destroy him emotionally, and he’s going to go down the same path as Zach, ending in death- blood on the pavement. The gore part is to emphasize how horrific the whole ordeal was.

“Sit down with me and sign this armistice

Get your big proboscis outta my s***, miss”

A proboscis is the butterfly equivalent of a tongue. They use it for sucking nectar out of flowers. So, what he’s saying here is that they need to settle this between them (“sign this armistice”), and that she needs to mind her own business. By her talking about Zach like that, she ruined his life and he’s sick of it. She literally sucked the joy out of him like nectar. 

“Welcome to the new me!

Paint your nails black and unscrew me

But that’s okay, Juanita

Know my business is booming”

His business is a reference to his own album, the very one you’re listening to. His music career took off now because of her and the fact that she broke his heart, not the other way around. Juanita can never understand that because she “only loves to be broken [Phantom Love].” 

“That’s alright, that’s okay!

You barely wrote them anyway

Half your songs got thrown away

Like ballets on voting day

All my ballads had more to say

Like a bullet through a motorcade”

In a twist, Zach got the story Juanita had wanted. He experienced a heartbreak, while she never really did. So he writes an album instead of her. It’s a cool kind of karma that Zach- or, at least, his character- can’t resist. 

The whole song ends with him forcing her/her friends to sing along with him, repeating her name, then yelling. She screams, and it cuts out. 

I think he’s lost his sanity (or again, his “innocence”) here. He gets carried away, and either attacks her or makes like he’s about to. I think he makes like he’s about to, but stops. This is the final song; if Zach killed her, there would more than likely be another song depicting the consequences and an Interlude V to show the aftermath of the incident. But because he stopped himself, he’s satisfied. Juanita learned her lesson, Zach got everything off his chest, and the people around them know the truth. 

That’s all he’s wanted for longer than we can possibly know.

Final Observations

Zach Callison has gone on record to say that “Juanita” has finally published an album of her own, but that happened months later. I don’t have any specific dates for anything, though. No one knows who the real-life “Juanita” is, which in my opinion, is noble of Zach. He had a lot of anger to get out, but unlike her, he wasn’t going to ruin her life to try and get something out there. He can make a statement without ruining someone else along the way.

With that knowledge, let us all stand and clap for this man.

Not only is the album just a really good listen, but each song tells a cohesive story. The tones each song sets, as well as the far under-appreciated interludes (or over-appreciated in terms of Showtime), really shows how his emotional state changes. Phantom Love is a lament, She Don’t Know is a classic “I’m sad bc my gf broke up with me :(“ which is how Zach perceives that incident at that point in time, whereas Nightmare is him falling into depression stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. Curtain Call is him arguing with himself about whether or not he should even live anymore, and it all comes back around with the upbeat, heavy-rock literal song of War!. The interludes take the tone of the next song and combine it with the lyrics of the previous to show that smooth transition between emotions as he grapples with his mental state, the only exception really being Interlude I, as it has an overall bouncy tone to it.

Zach not only made every single song enjoyable, but also unique and heartfelt. Just listen to how his voice shakes during Christie Only Knows. He is genuinely upset and lost, and because of this, he’s better able to convey the HUGE emotion dump that was his album.

Do I recommend it? Yes. I think there’s something in there for everyone, even if you only enjoy one of the songs. However, doing a review is going to be an entire post in and of itself.

Thanks for reading, guys. Now go listen to the album and tell me your thoughts. Does my explanation make sense? Do you have a better idea? Let me know. I want to have a real discussion about it with other people who have listened to the whole thing, not just Interlude IV.

If you haven’t listened to it yet, it’s on YouTube and ITunes. Do yourself a favor and check it out. The whole thing is ~45 minutes long.

Have a link to the playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_n1rA_1uUBtxoATot0ixiTgvdEHhj3lAn4

[thedaytheworldburned]

‘New Rules’ Lyric Analysis

Released with the Dream Chapter: MAGIC album, October 2019.

The song is one of the best examples of the youth-school aspect of TXT’s concept. At the time of it’s release, Kai and Taehyun were still in high school, and the other members had only recently left.

The song itself deals with the idea of feeling trapped in the boring, repetitive place that is school, surrounded by rules and rules and rules. Instead of ‘Run Away’ where the boys escape to a magical place, ‘New Rules’ shows how they escape by making their own rules, rebelling against the old ones, and having fun following their heart’s desires. 

In my storyline playlist, I put it after ‘Can’t We Just Leave The Monster Alive?’ and before ‘Run Away’, since the boys expressed a desire to break the rules/create new rules in CWJLTMA, and actually do so in ‘New Rules’ and ‘Run Away’ - only in ‘Run Away’ it escalates, as they rewind time.

The song very nicely augments ‘Magic Island’, ‘Run Away’, and the rest of the album, adding further context to their thoughts on the world and the reasons why they need to escape (in this case, boredom and the need for freedom).

This freedom motif was mentioned in STAR, but was elaborated on in MAGIC and ETERNITY - it was a major theme in ‘PUMA’, for instance.

Full lyric analysis below the line. 

New Rules

‘I’m studying in my office again’ is also translated as ‘repetition of maths class,’ which makes the following line about being ‘trapped in the lines’ make more sense.

The ‘right foot, left foot’ line of Yeonjun’s is also, ‘They say right foot, but left foot is more comfortable,’ which I think better expresses how they feel trapped and pressured by society’s expectations.

Taehyun’s lines are also, ‘I want nothing more than to go to the locked rooftop / I’m sick and tired of the fixed text messages.’

‘Get out of the way’ is also ‘step aside all of you.’

Kai’s  line is also ‘even if I get punished’, and ‘give it to me’ instead of ‘bring it to me’. 

Beomgyu’s part is also ‘If it crosses the line I want it. If you tell me not to, I do it,’ which just expresses the meaning of the line better. 

The start of Taehyun’s part here is also ‘Escalators become slides, I look forward to it even if you tell me not to.’

‘Make a new rule’ in Kai’s part is also ‘remake the rules.’

The last three lines of Yeonjun’s part are also, ‘whose common sense it that? Did you come after getting verification from some Doctor or Professor?’

The first line is also ‘common knowledge that I create’ and the last line is also, ‘I’ll grab the handle.’

It is important to note here the cyclical nature of the song (and choreography), which also mirrors the cyclical nature of the album and storyline. This emphasises the boring and repetitive nature of school and society, and the feeling of being trapped in it, increasing the need to escape and break the rules.

At the beginning of the song, the line ‘everything in the world is good and evil,’ emphasises how they feel so trapped in society that they have lost the concept of ‘grey’ and now see only in black and white. However, at the end of the song, being whisper-hissed as the boys return to their positions from the start of the song, it seems a little more sinister and scary - especially since we finish on ‘evil’, we feel that evil must be approaching - makes sense, since the track is the first in the album, and leads into the MAGIC, and later ETERNITY albums.

Conclusions

Cyclical, and wonderfully so. Both the lyrics and choreography emphasise the feeling of being trapped by societal expectations, and the desire to escape, which is then realised in ‘Run Away’ and ‘Magic Island.’ Funky.

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 6 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: In which the reader and Nandor engage in some smut. There are lingering effects after the attack by the unknown vampire. A fight breaks out! And Fucking Colin Robinson can’t help himself when it comes to Scrabble.

A/N: Yeah, hi. It’s me. I spent all day struggling with this unwieldy beast and trying to shape it into something the least bit consistent. I really hope this holds up with the rest of the fic. I am also thinking that a vampire orgy is on the horizon, lol. 

Warnings: Smut, Female Reader-insert, Reader is described as short and a roller derby player, lingering trauma from vampire attack, memory loss due to hypnosis

---

The horrible, empty echo of erased memories is still with you when you wake, like a forgotten dream that nags at the back of your mind. Nandor sleeps like the literal dead beside you and the inside of the coffin is utterly dark. His presence wraps around you. His solid body is a comfort and his scent fills the enclosed space--earthy and spicy with an edge of coppery-blood-soaked menace. It should raise the hairs on the back of your neck. Your primitive instincts should be screaming at you to run. Instead you draw closer to him, resting your head beside his, close enough for your breath to warm his lips.

The moment is quiet and still, despite the frantic beat of your heart as you recall the softness of his lips on yours and the proud, possessive audacity of his hands on your body. You think Nandor��s kisses must be at least as addictive to you as your blood is to him. Ever since that frenzied, blood-drunk makeout session you’ve had the memory of it running on repeat in the undercurrent of your thoughts. But, Nandor? Does he...want that outside the context of blood letting?

There’s only one way to find out, chicky, Nadja would say. 

You lean forward, pressing your mouth to his cool lips, marveling at the contrast with your sleep-warmed skin. For a long moment he remains unmoving... dead to the world. You dart out your tongue and stroke it along his full lower lip, thrilling when you brush the wicked point of a fang. Your hands cup over his bearded cheeks, and you drag your fingers along his jaw as he gradually stirs beneath your touch. He wakes with a deep groan that rumbles up his throat and into your kiss. His lips move with yours now, parting to admit your seeking tongue. He catches your bottom lip in his teeth and nibbles gently, eliciting a pleased squeak from you.

“Nandor...” you pant. He’s fully awake now. His hand roams down your side, into the dip of your waist and over the round curve of your hips. 

“Mortal,” he answers you, dragging his fangs along your lips with a shudder that wracks his frame. He brings his other hand up between you and brushes the tips of his fingers over your lips, “I can feel your blood. Here, and…”

He reaches down and just barely presses his flattened palm over the aching heat between your legs.

“...here,” he finishes.

Your breath falls from your lips in a shaky gasp. His touch is frustratingly light but thrilling all the same. You roll your hips forward, seeking the friction your body craves and Nandor obliges you, snaking his hand between your thighs to cup your sex and rub you through the fabric of your shorts. 

“I want you, Nandor,” you hiss in pleasure, peppering kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his nose. It’s a declaration and one you’re not sure he’ll accept.

His mouth curves in pleasure at your admission. He wants to plunge himself inside of you and tear into your neck, erasing the foul touch of that unknown vampire. You’re his human. A growl rips from his throat at the thought.

He lowers his lips to brush against the shell of your ear as he barely whispers, “When I am with you I feel like I did with 35 of my 37 wives…”

He captures your earlobe between his teeth, letting his fang break the skin with a stinging little pinch while at the same time increasing the pressure of his hand against the bundle of pulsing nerves between your legs. 

“...I feel as though I could never set another peasant aflame and...still be happy…”

He closes his lips around the tiny wound and sucks, moaning with the heady ambrosia of your virgin blood as you ride his hand.

“You’re in the habit of lighting peasants on fire?” you laugh shakily, your breath coming in heaving gasps.

He laughs haughtily, “I’ve killed a thousand peasants and drunk a thousand virgins, my human.”

Okay, pillow talk could use some...work. It doesn’t matter anyway because you soon lose your power of speech and resort to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breaking his hold on your earlobe in the process. 

When Guillermo throws open the lid of the coffin you’re clinging to Nandor’s body with his hand buried between your thighs and a completely obvious moan dying on your lips.

Guillermo’s mouth falls open in shock and you jump away from Nandor, scrambling over the side of the coffin and burning in mortification when you notice the camera crew lurking in the open doorway.

“Guillermo!” Nandor shouts. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

---

“So...things are getting a little complicated with the human…”

Nandor is still seated in his coffin, one arm draped casually along the rim, and addressing the camera with an uncomfortable grimace.

“It’s like, do I want to drink her or do I want to do the sex with her?”

He looks off to the side, shaking his head in confusion. After a moment he finally climbs out of the coffin, standing and revealing the massive erection tenting his trousers.

“I wonder where Laszlo is…?”

---

There’s a saying in the derby world. “Roller derby will save your soul.” Sure, it might ruin your knees, break your nose, and deplete your bank account. But when you’re skating on the track with your league you can let go of everything else in your life for a little while. 

The nagging black hole in your memories from the rave went away while Nandor touched you. But it returns with a vengeance soon after and you arrive at practice with a headache and a foul mood. Tonight is contact drills. Thank god. You really need to hit something. 

You go through the motions of warming up, tossing greetings to your fellow skaters and letting yourself be in the moment. Your body knows these movements like the lyrics to a favorite song. You’re strong, fast and in control. Everything that you weren’t last night when...whoever it was attacked you and stole your memory. By the time you break a sweat you’re grinning with exhilaration. 

You run through drills, losing yourself in muscle memory. The night ends with a short scrimmage and you on your ass after a truly impressive hit from one of the new skaters. The girl looks horrified that she’s hurt you but you just laugh it off, slapping your wrist guard to hers in congratulations.

By the time you step off the bus and make your way up to the front door of the house you’re feeling loose and pleasantly sore. And hardly frustrated at all after your interrupted moment with Nandor this evening.

Hardly at all.

As soon as you step inside Guillermo rushes up to you with a frantic look on his face.

“Nadja and Nandor are going to kill each other!” he cries.

Can you never have a nice, peaceful evening in this house? Maybe a game of Scrabble or a movie night?

All the vampires are assembled in the library and Nandor and Nadja are both floating in the air furiously hissing at one another like a couple of street cats.

“YOU BLOODY, SLUG-FACED ASSHOLE!” Nadja shouts, clawing out her arms and flying towards Nandor, who throws out a kick and sends her crashing into the opposite wall.

“Nandor!” you shout, disgusted. “What is going on!? I leave for a few hours and all hell breaks loose?”

“HUMAN! Tell your snake-ass boyfriend I am not to blame for what happened last night!” Nadja cries, breaking into a hiss as Nandor flies at her with murder in his eyes.

“Stop it, Nandor!” you shout, dropping your gear bag and reaching up to snag his ankle as he floats by. Rather than slowing him down as you intended, you end up getting dragged along the floor in his wake as he chases Nadja out into the hallway. 

“Gaaah!” you shriek, hanging on to him and trying to dig your heels into the floor to slow him down. When that doesn’t work you forcibly pull yourself up his leg, grabbing onto the thick belt at his waist and climbing until you’re wrapped around him piggyback-style. You clamp your hands over his eyes and shout, “Stop!”

“Fu-cking human!” Nandor curses, reaching up and prying your hands off his eyes. “You stop it or I’ll drain you right now. I mean it!”

The threat falls flat, considering he’s currently in an apparent fight to the death over your safety and honor…

“If you kill Nadja I’ll never kiss you again...or any other stuff!” you growl, digging your fingers into his thick hair and giving it a yank. He hisses and swats at your hands. 

Nandor actually pauses to consider your words, looking over his shoulder at you in hesitation before scoffing, “Psssk, you can’t resist my dark power, human. Now shut up and let me kill our roommate!”

Nadja has retreated up to the vaulted ceiling above the main entryway and Nandor surges upward after her. 

You shriek in terror, “I’m afraid of heights, you jerk!”

“I’LL RIP OUT ALL OF YOUR DIRTY PUBIC HAIRS AND SHOVE THEM IN YOUR EYEBALLS YOU--!”

Just as Nandor is about to collide with your astonishingly imaginative vampire mama, Laszlo barrels out of nowhere and rams into him with a dramatic cry, “I say, keep your hands off my lady wife!”

Nandor launches backwards and crashes against the wall, crushing you and knocking the wind from your lungs in the impact. You both crumple onto the upstairs balcony. Nandor recovers at once, making ready to jump into the fray, but you’re lying on your back, coughing and wheezing as you try to get in a breath.

“Stupid...jerk...vampires! Knock it off!” you gasp.

Nadja flies down from her perch to land at your side with a moue of concern.

“Poor, baby,” Nadja coos over you before turning on Nandor. “Now look what you’ve done, donkey dick!”

Nandor kneels on your other side and whines, “I did nothing! It was Laszlo!”

You lift yourself up onto your elbows and eye both vampires with as much exasperation as you can summon.

“Enough! Nadja...I forgive you for leaving me on my own. I know how horny you are--”

“Thank you, human,” she sniffs.

“Nandor...stop trying to kill Nadja,” you order, trying to instill the tone of authority into your voice that comes so naturally to him.

He rolls his eyes and pouts but finally murmurs, “Fine.”

“Good…” you sigh, getting to your feet with a moan of pain. “I’m gonna go lay in bed with an ice pack on my ass. Try not to kill anyone--er, well...at least try not to kill each other…”

---

After a shower and some icing of the blossoming red and purple derby bruise on your right butt cheek, you make your way downstairs to find that Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor have all gone out hunting. Colin is sitting by himself in the library with his newspaper and Guillermo is tucked away in his room, talking to his mom on the phone.

“Hey,” you greet Colin as you gingerly drop down onto the couch. “Do we have any board games? Maybe Scrabble?”

A grin spreads across Colin’s lips and you miss the sheen of blue hunger in his eyes as he replies, “I think I’ve got an old Scrabble set around here somewhere…”

---

“...And then in 2017 it was David Eldar who took home the championship. But, of course, today the reigning champion is still Nigel Richards. But what’s really fascinating about competitive mind sports, like Scrabble--”

“What the fuck!” Nandor appears in the doorway of the library and you immediately turn to him and make grabby hands.

“Save me!” you implore dramatically. 

Colin snickers under his breath, “Sorry, Nandor, I couldn’t help it. There’s just something about Scrabble that really gets me going…”

“Fucking Colin Robinson…” Nandor mutters darkly as he trails you up the stairs, following you right into your room and shutting the door on the camera crew behind him. 

You plop down onto your bed, wincing a little with the pain of your massive bruise. When you glance up at Nandor you notice a splash of red blood on his chin.

“Have a nice...hunt?” you ask, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Nandor grins and perches beside you on the bed with a sweep of his cape.

“Jealous?” he questions with a smug smirk that bares his fangs.

Yes.

“No,” you insist. “I like my blood right where it is, thanks.”

Nandor narrows his eyes and needles, “Really...” His gaze falls to rest on the thrumming pulse of your throat. “Are you sure you don’t prefer it on my lips...or my tongue…?”

He crawls over you and the dark curtains of his long hair cascade down around your face as he bends to lay a kiss along your jaw.

“No biting!” you insist and he pulls back with a pout.

“Not even just to wash the taste of those joggers out of my mouth? They tasted like shit!” he complains. 

You really shouldn’t be pleased that he prefers the taste of your blood over others but…

“You’re getting spoiled,” you grumble, reaching up and idly playing with his hair. “But you’re very pretty…”

Nandor settles down beside you and pulls you onto his chest, running his hands over your back and down to the curve of your backside with a lecherous leer. 

“You’re the one who’s spoiled. I should have left you in the human cell to feed on when I choose…” 

The threat is comically empty.

You roll your eyes at him and squirm up to press a kiss to his bearded chin, “Yeah, but then I’d probably be dead by now...and you wouldn’t have someone to smooch and cuddle in your coffin, so…”

He cups your face in his hands, drawing you back down and pressing his mouth to yours in a long, passionate kiss that erases the taste of jogger’s blood from his tongue. 

“I suppose that there are certain benefits to mercy…”

Nandor picks up where you left off in his crypt. He kisses you senseless, until you’re a squirming bundle of need and then he finally reaches down between you and pushes his large hand down the front of your shorts and into your wet folds. His hands may have been made to hold a sword in battle, to bring pain and death, but they are also capable of the utmost tender and skilled care as he works you into a keening frenzy on top of him. You wail with the intensity of the orgasm that crashes through you and he keeps his hand on you, rubbing and stroking your oversensitive flesh until it almost hurts. 

His erection juts between your bodies, obscenely obvious through the thick fabric of his trousers. You’re still breathless with the force of the pleasure he’s given you when you make your first shy, tentative advances. As soon as your warm hand presses against him through his pants Nandor let’s out a fierce growl and he grabs your wrist, directing you to apply more pressure, rutting himself against your little hand. You reach for the waist of his pants with your free hand, tugging at it and fiddling with the absurd number of buttons until he finally assists you, opening his fly and reaching in to free himself.

Nandor’s smile is goofy and pleased with himself as he watches your virgin eyes roam over the impressive length of him. You reach out to touch. He’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your touch is feather light, experimental, hesitant. You watch as his eyes fall closed and his lips part. Nandor the Relentless is at the mercy of his mortal pet. Your touch grows firm, more confident. He fists his hands into the sheets and pants out the faintest, needy cries of pleasure until he’s twitching and shaking in your hand with his own release. The cold spurt of his seed falls over your fist and stains the rich fabric of his tunic.

Now that it’s over you’re unaccountably shy. You tuck yourself into his side and hide your face in his shoulder as he recovers himself. You fall asleep like that, clinging to him. And for the first time in centuries Nandor sleeps outside his coffin, curled protectively around you.

---

You’re sitting cross-legged in the high-backed armchair across from the camera man. His question hangs in the air and you pull the hood of your sweatshirt up, tugging on the drawstrings to hide your face as you answer.

“Yeah...I’m still a virgin.”

Memories of the previous night swirl through your head and you tighten the drawstrings until only your eyes peer out from the hoodie.

“...for now.”

---

“Guillermo!” Nandor shouts from his crypt. “I have clothes for the washer woman!”

---

A/N: Ugh---please send me soft, nice things. I’m entirely unsure if I’m happy with this. The only part I know I love was the fight scene with Nadja and Nandor.

Tags:

@festering-queen​ @glitterportrait​ @kandomeresbitch​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​