#and now i'm in folie world

[half-doomed]

FOLIE aaaaaand VIOLENT THINGS for the album asks

FOLIE MY BELOVED

Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes (this is apparently a basic answer now but i dont care she's My babygirl)

The (Shipped) Gold Standard

Headfirst Slide into Cooperston on a Bad Bet

(Coffee's for Closers)

Pavlove

wams

20 Dollar Nose Bleed

West Coast Smoker

27

America's Suitehearts

Tiffany Blews

She's My Winona

I Don't Care

Lullaby

What A Catch, Donnie

Disclaimer that these are all like 0.001 millimeters apart they're so close because i love this album top to bottom, even my least favorite is still one of my favorite fob songs and it's only ranked last because it Hurts me

Send me an album and I’ll put the tracks in order from most to least favorite

[prael]

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air. 

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely. 

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college." 

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer. 

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited. 

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.” 

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs. 

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?" 

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her. 

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath. 

Anticipation— 

Waiting— 

Knowing what's coming next. 

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock. 

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust. 

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear. 

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement. 

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster. 

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be. 

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows. 

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you. 

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you. 

Every time. 

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time. 

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps. 

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin. 

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for. 

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

Next Part

[music-orthemisery]

Pre-Folie Release Madness of (p)2- A Timeline

After spending a few days in cuckoo bananas world thanks to the video re: Patrick's best man speech, @grandtreeangel and I have some things to slide across the table.

Between October 19, 2008 and November 7th, 2008, FOB played a series of shows leading up to the release of Folie a Deux. Each show featured a Pete/Patrick banter moment that, when put together, creates a very...interesting narrative.

October 19th - Birmingham, England show

Pete making a Top Gun reference to the $20 bar bet scene while Patrick plays the Top Gun theme song.

The scene in question: "Total carnal knowledge...of a woman this time, on the premises"

October 22nd - London, England show

First live performance of Patrick's "Love Lockdown" cover

Please see @grandtreeangel’s post HERE for more context on this totally normal thing Patrick did.

October 25th - Lille, France show

OG "my little cabbage" moment Pete, in French, says to Patrick, "You are beautiful, my little cabbage."

October 27th OR 28th - Blog post

Pete posts this on his Tumblr . It says 10/27, but there's some disagreement on time zones so it may be 10/28. EITHER WAY...

Originally, this linked to a clip from the movie Love, Actually. In this scene, a man confesses his love to a woman who is married to his best friend.

There's plenty of debate about this movie, scene, and storyline in general, but we aren't here for that right now!!!

Let's just focus on the facts:

Woman. Married. To BEST FRIEND.

The man was the best man AND the videographer at the wedding.

This whole moment is done secretly. He confesses, they kiss, she goes back inside and tells her husband it was just some carolers.

In general, this whole story arc is ripe with longing and unattainable love due to a marriage keeping the man from being with the woman.

I...wonder what this sounds like...

October 28th - Toronto, Canada show

Love Lockdown cover where Patrick says, "That's for you, Pete."

Again, Patrick being very normal!!!

October 29th - Blog Post

Pete contributes an entry to Bill's "Mondayeyes" poetry club on friendsorenemies.com:

Credit to @alphadog's post for this HERE

The entire poem is quite impactful, but a few lines of interest:

"Where do you get off?" or more like "how"

and...

"You chose this"

When Pete uses quotes, it's noted that this indicates things that have been said to him.

There are scents and spells that keep us coming together, there are sparks that keep us forever

The art of keeping up disappearances

Also, big hello to some Rat-A-Tat lyrics

Whenever I could make the sweat roll backwards and your pulse stream in reverse

(Big thank you to @dykeandyhurley for sending this to me)

November 6th - Boston, MA show

Pete shares the story about Patrick's best man speech.

Huge props to @predoom for finding this moment!

If you haven't seen Top Gun (?!), the context here is very important:

The line "Ice, fire, or clear," is said in the scene where Goose dies.

Scene: "Ice, Fire or Clear!"

Also, it should be noted that, to Pete, he is Goose and Patrick is Maverick.

The fact that Patrick picks this quote to say to Pete...in his best man speech...at PETE'S WEDDING. A quote said when Maverick LOSES Goose.

AND...apparently no one else in the reception quite...get's it. Pete is the only one who does. That line was just for Pete. From Patrick.

Of all the lines in that movie, he picks that one, from that moment.

Then, of course...

We have "The Kids Aren't Alright."

Featuring the lyrics:

Stuck in the jet wash Bad trip I couldn't get off And maybe I bit off more than I could chew And overhead of the aqua blue

Along with Pete's annotation:

November 7th - Philadelphia, PA show

Patrick sings Lullabye.

Take a peek at this post for all of that mess.

"Well, Bronx was about to be born!"

Sure, sure. I'm not DENYING the relevance there. Just. Go look at the post, damn it. Trust me.

And then...?

Nothing. They take a break, Bronx is born, and then they play a show in Columbus, OH on December 1, 2008. This whole little back and forth ends. Folie a Deux is released on December 10th and...well...we all know what happens after that.

[ybcpatrick]

like i'm so fucking ill about it. the (shipped) gold standard was the last song they needed to play to have performed every single song off of folie à deux live at least once. the record that has caused them the most pain. the one that they avoided like the plague for over a decade after its release, save for i don't care and the occasional instances of disloyal order, what a catch, or 20 dollar nose bleed when they toured with panic! that one time. the one that patrick wouldn't even talk about, for the longest time. it got them booed visciously, it got them dissected by critics, it got them pelted with garbage and glowsticks at shows, it got them stressed and strained to the point of needing to pause all efforts as a band to make sure they could still stay FRIENDS in the wake of it, and now it is the only fall out boy record that they have played 100% of, INCLUDING lullabye and fucking pavlove. and the last song left was (shipped).

you can only blame your problems on the world for so long. i want to scream "i love you" from the top of my lungs, but i'm afraid that someone else will hear me.

(or, they used to be afraid. evidently, not anymore.)

[minhosimthings]

A La Folie ft. Jay - The Vows

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mention of bruises, VOWS BITCHES YAYYY

A/N: and with this, Jay's fic is officially done for the French Quotes Series! Now we move onto Jake. Please enjoy the vows everyone!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || The Wedding

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

You had never attended a wedding before Heeseung's wedding with his Princess. She was from the Kingdom of Witchelm...you think. Either way, you couldn't remember much from the wedding, except the fact that the bride looked stunning and Heeseung looked stunned.

And all the dancing of course. You were worried that your toes wouldn't adjust to the fast pace of Jay's spectacular dancing skills, but, being the lovesick man he was, he managed to help you.

And he promised that you'd be the best dancer in all of Vadronia by the time of your own wedding.

Time flies fast and it indeed did race across and suddenly it was your wedding.

Never in a million lifetimes would anyone have thought that a mercenary king would fall for a mere healer. But as you admired your carefully woven dress in the mirror, with Heeseung's wife (who was now your best friend) giggling behind you, you laughed at the thought of Jay's fellow kings losing their bets with each other.

And then suddenly you were on the aisle. Flowers in your hand, flowers in your hair, and tiny painted flowers decorating your shoulder, perfectly merging in with your bruise, Jay thought that this was heaven.

"L/N Y/N of Vadronia," Jay cleared his throat before speaking, looking nervously down at his parchment, your smile being the only thing that could stop his tears from flowing down their barricade.

You could see Heeseung, trying not to stare at his wife, who was behind you holding the ring, and you smiled. Love was truly in the air today.

"I used to think love was poison, a darkening thing, meant to rage all and turn everything to horror." Jay took a shuddering breath, before looking up at you. Her smile, he thought, focus Jay!

"Love, to me was the worst thing in this world, at some point I managed to convince myself that it didn't exist. Hell, I wanted to convince myself that I didn't exist. The pages of my diary were rotten to the darkness. Just ask these idiots standing behind me." He motioned towards the silently crying kings behind him.

"Perhaps that's the thing I want to thank you for today, my love. I don't think I've ever understood what love actually is have I? And then you stepped in like some guardian angel, ready to seize me by the collar of my shirt, shake me into pieces and scream at me about what love truly is."

Had you truly done that to him?

"Maybe I'm exaggerating, you haven't grabbed my collar until the day before yesterday, the colour of the flowers were genuinely not my fault." That elicited a laugh from your lips.

"I would like to thank you for making me see the beauty in the little things in life. In all the daffodils, or carved rubies, or even baking powder to calm a bubbling liquid down."

A love-sick giggle escaped your mouth.

"Thank you for sharing your dreams, and your nightmares with me.Thank you for showing me what life truly means again.Thank you for making me feel wanted, needed and most importantly, loved. Thank you, for teaching me to see love not as it is but as it could be. Because I realise now, more than ever, that love, it isn't something which stays constant, like forged metal. It's an ever moving, ever changing thing, like the waves of the sea, like a lavender in the breeze, or maybe a scar or a bruise which heals as time goes on."

A scar. Your scars or his scars?, you thought. Whichever one it was, you knew Jay meant to talk about some old red string tied to a pinkie.

"You know, there was this thing my mother used to say. To love a person means to love them to absolute insanity."

A la Folie.

"She always told me she would explain the meaning of it to me when I grew up. She never got the chance to, but I hope she knows today, that I understand what her engravings of a la folie means. Would you like to know why?"

He leaned forward, raising a hand up to cup your cheek ever so gently.

"Insanity is a meagre price to pay if it meant I could have you for the rest of eternity, even if I was a madman and you were the figment of my imagination. Then you'd be the best thing I'd have ever imagined."

Insanity.

A common topic among healers. Apparently no one knew how to heal it.

But at this moment, when your lips pressed against Jay's in a bittersweet moment of longing, loss and love, you felt that insanity would truly be a coin to pay for the man in front of you.

Maybe he truly was the actual healer out of both of you.

Love's an insane thing don't you think?

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @niinjo

[a-nickits-den]

You find a letter journal entry. Read it?

Hello Sprite.

. . .

I can do that in here. I can pause. I can think. No one will question it.

. . .

I passed two of your pokemon off to Paris. Like you told me not to. I was overwhelmed. He's not responding to me. I want to take them back. I'm scared for them.

. . .

I don't know why I keep talking to people. I don't like them, I don't feel anything, my emulations of care are pathetic. Everyone can tell theres something wrong with me. I need to prove myself, be helpful enough to be worth something to the 'good' people. But it never goes away. I am drawn to people who are apathetic about me. They're like her.

. . .

They don't like me.

. . .

I don't belong. I annoy them. I annoy them.

I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm a pest. I'm.

. . .

. . .

. . .

It's nice. Three is a good number.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Addressing this entry to you, because my last entry. My head became a mess. I need to make things clear for you, even if you'll never read it.

. . .

Ever heard of 'Folie à deux' ? It's Kalosion, meaning madness for two. People use it to refrence shared delusions. I picked up a book on the subject.

. . .

The mirrors. Your delusions about them. I'm not sure how much of it I can trust. I tried to tear one apart, recreating what you did time and time again but it didn't work. All I got was glass shards stuck in my hands. I believed it would work.

. . .

I think I'm loosing my mind.

. . .

I turned to mirrors because i have tried everything else. I am running out of options. I have nothing. You are rotting. I did this to you. I did this. I did this. I did this.

. . .

. . .

. . .

I need to keep to myself. This world has nothing to offer me.

. . .

I wonder if you will be mad when I kill the snake. No one understands. No one cares what he did aside from me. He will atone.

. . .

I sound like a whiny child. My hands are shaking.

Goodbye for now.

[meat-wentz]

FOB LORE POST Pt. 2

this one is mainly links, plus resources at the end for more in depth dives.

some cool pre-fob/outside fob links:

arma angelus livejournal

where sleeplessness is rest from nightmares (arma album playlist, heychris is working at the moment to get these on spotify)

the grave end of the shovel (arma EP)

last arma show

first novena show (pre-arma arma angelus)

racetraitor "broken dust" ft. a young pete and a young andy

another one

racetraitor 2019

racetraitor 2022

interview with mani mostofi 2018

now some general lore, i'll bold the ones that are referenced most often:

"The Story" 2004 (from My Heart Will Always Be the B-Side to My Tongue dvd)

"Cutting Room Floor" (LOTS of classic moments in this, joe sleeping in a cage, patrick drinking garlic butter, dunking his head in a pool, getting nervous and shaking pete's hand, etc)

extra bits sorry this literally opens with a dirty toilet

the story behind the album cover (patrick, joe and pete all lived in a shitty apartment together, where the cover of tttyg was shot on their broken couch, i promise this link is so much more informative these are just the basics)

take this to your apartment pt. 1 (fall out boy return to the apartment)

take this to your apartment pt. 2

a little reflection on the van accident

notes between patrick and joe (resolution by pete)

patrick in high school

first interview

HALLOWEEN 2003 (THE PRIEST SHOW)

the hollister show (includes pete jumping off the roof with an umbrella, van tour, andy "what's goin' on guys" which is important TO ME)

2003 acoustic set (IMPORTANT TO ME)

the hollister show pt. 2 (the show, which is fucking insane, sweater, shorts and black socks mention, borders mention, patrick drinking half a bottle of tobasco, pete getting tazed, first ??? mention of jason which will be expanded upon later)

i'm not putting release the bats lmao that's your job, warning it's gross, it's a will-tester for sure.

but you do get bedussey, it's like, on the syllabus. there will be a test.

FOBR bio during futct

the jason interview

patrick and pete interview for the documentary bastards of young (2005)

behind the scenes AOL

TRL debut

nintendo ds makes me forget that i don't have any friends

mtv vma performance of sugar (iconic because of the uniforms)

mtv2 video awards arrival

mtv2 win

warped diary (fob did warped in a fucking van, which is hardcore af)

behind the scenes sugar we're going down

behind the scenes dance dance

behind the scenes a little less 16 candles

fuse rock star guide (IMPORTANT TO ME)

you look good in everything honey

behind the scenes live in phoenix

don't google yourself

you look like the unabomber

wind power

fall out boy gets uncomfortable

pete's do's and don'ts for valentine's day

moustachette

world's most in depth interview

gabe bothering patrick with socks and sandals

piss roulette

IMPORTANT PATRICK VIDEO TO ME (black clouds and underdogs tour)

gay above the belt

it's not a hot girl

the backpack

mark hoppus shaves pete's head (death of emo)

drum battle and this view of patrick

andy drum solo (live in phoenix)

thanks pete

boys of zummer

happy paintings

coffee's for closers dance

YBC commentary by patrick and pete

family feud

just a few reading extras because i'm tired and i've worked on this for so long i'm going crosseyed:

pete/patrick huge primer

interviews

what a catch donnie songfacts page

in defense of folie a deux

(btw patrick does a different song every intro for i hate myself, also it's very healing please listen to all 6 episodes)

Loud and Sad Radio (pete podcast)

@stumpomatic-blog and @fobomatic-blog are both archival projects to document the band

here's a giant video vault

peachy.stump on instagram, invaluable resource for updates, throwbacks and all the little tidbits you could want.

[devildomditzy]

Are there any fob songs you associate with Mammon? I was on a listening spree earlier when Disloyal Order came on and "What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet" feels so MC/Mammon coded.

aksjs sorry my two interests constantly intertwine, and Mammon lives in my mind rent free 👉👈

oh ho ho I should have a large sign on my back that says please talk to me about fall out boy

I’m going to just give you the list and the lyrics, but this will still be a loooong ass post

I'm sorry this post took so long anon it's been sitting in my drafts forever.

From Evening Out With Your Girlfriend

Moving Pictures

"Last night I saw a movie And I thought about many movies I've seen at your house Excuse me if I'm rude But I'd rather that we just strike from the record ones I'd see again without you Leaning on my shoulder Distracting me from the plot line

Where can I go when I want you around But I can't stand to be around you? Go home, I'll walk myself to you I'll walk myself away from here"

From Take This To Your Grave

Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy?

"You need him, I could be him I could be an accident, but I'm still trying And that's more than I can say for him"

From From Under The Cork Tree

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

"And you're just the girl all the boys wanna dance with And I'm just the boy who's had too many chances I'm sleepin' on your folks' porch again, dreamin' She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?" I don't blame you for bein' you But you can't blame me for hating it So, say, what are you waiting for, kiss her, kiss her I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late"

Of All The Gin Joints of All The World

"We're making out inside crashed cars We're sleeping through all our memories I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive (now I only waste my time dreaming of you)

Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness 'Cause all of our moves make up for the silence And oh, the way your makeup stains my pillowcase Like I'll never be the same"

Sugar We’re Goin Down

"Am I more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you Anything you wanna hear 'Cause that's just who I am this week"

From Infinity on High

Bang the Doldrums

"Best friends, ex-friends 'til the end Better off as lovers and not the other way around Racing through the city, windows down In the back of yellow checkered cars"

The Take Over, The Breaks Over

"Baby, seasons change, but people don't, and I'll always be waiting in the back room I'm boring, but overcompensate with Headlines and flash, flash, flash photography"

"Wouldn't you rather be a widow than a divorcee? Style your wake for fashion magazines Widow or a divorcee? Don't pretend, d-d-d-don't pretend"

From Folie à Deux

Disloyal Order of the Water Buffalos

"Oh, I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet"

Tiffany Blews

"Oh baby, you're a classic Like a little black dress You're a faded moon Stuck on a little hot mess (little hot mess) Whoa, whoa"

From Save Rock and Roll

Miss Missing You

"Making eyes at this husk around my heart I see through you when we're sitting in the dark So give me your filth, make it rough Let me, let me trash your love

I will sing to you every day If it will take away the pain Oh, and I've heard you got it, got it so bad 'Cause I am the best you'll never have"

Where Did the Party Go?

"This is the story of how they met Her picture was on the back of a pack of cigarettes And when she touched him he turned ruby red A story that they'll never forget, never forget"

From American Beauty/ American Psycho

Jet Pack Blues

"Did you ever love her? Do you know? (I remember) Or did you never want to be alone? (I remember)"

From Mania

Last of the Real Ones

"I was just an only child of the universe And then I found you, and then I found you You are the sun and I am just the planets Spinning around you, spinning around you You were too good to be true, gold plated But what's inside you? But what's inside you? I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you But not as much as I do, as much as I do, yeah"

Hold Me Tight or Don’t

"I got too high again, realized I can't not be with you Or be just your friend, I love you to death, but I just can't I just can't pretend, we were lovers first Confidants but never friends, were we ever friends?

But when your stitch comes loose, I wanna sleep on Every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you You, I took too many hits off this memory I need to come down"

From So Much For Stardust

Flu Game

"Last night I dreamt I still knew you You I carved out a place in this world for two But it's empty without you

I got all this love I've got to keep to myself All this effort to make it look effortless"

Hold Me Like a Grudge

"Hold me, hold me like a grudge The world is always spinning, and I can't keep up, woah Faster and faster, can't do it on my own Part-time soulmate, full-time problem, yeah So, hold me like a grudge"

"Call you up and demand, you have no fun without me"

From Believers Never Die Volume Two

Bob Dylan

"When they say, "You and what army?" I guess they're talking about you and me Baby, nobody will love you, nobody will love you like Like I do, I guess that's half true"

"Baby, no one ever thinks of you, no one ever thinks of you As much as I do, not, not even you"

"Cause everyone loves Bob Dylan I just want you to love me like that, yeah Would you bury me next to Johnny Cash? I'm obsessed, do you love me like that? Yeah

I'm sure there's a million more of their songs/lyrics I could correlate to him but we'd be here all day.

I could literally yap about Mammon and Fall Out Boy all day.

[carefulfears]

okay i just watched folie a deux and now I'm thinking about the subtle nuanced way vince giligan deals with the msr relationship through the psychological horror of his scripts (particularly pusher, paper hearts, folie a deux, even bad blood though it's portrayed through a different tone) bc like....their relationship IS kind of a psychological horror show of shared madness, and folie a deux illustrates that the most blatantly and kind of is the culmination of that idea. that's why the "one in five billion" confession isn't even romantic in the traditional sense, it's this horrible soul-bearing wound-exposing thing that neither of them knows what to do with, bc facing the implications of it is just...too much. a madness of two!!

"this horrible soul-bearing wound-exposing thing that neither of them knows what to do with" !!!!

you worded this so well, and that's what's so heavy about vince episodes; especially in season 5, which carries this theme throughout.

folie a deux is a scary episode, and it has nothing to do with the bug monster. it's the isolation, the effects of not being able to trust what you see, the danger of a spooky reputation.

it reminds me of her face here, when he says his famous line. unlike redux, fight the future, amor fati, and other times when he’s being open and appreciative of her, she doesn’t cry. she doesn’t smile. there’s something solemn, and wary to it.

out of five billion people in the world, he has one that would believe him, even if his life depended on it. he has one that would listen to him. he has one that would care if he ever made it out of this hospital, enough to come back for him later. and it’s her, who nearly died of cancer earlier that year.

there’s fear in being needed, there’s grief in being starbuck.

i love your point about vince episodes utilizing psychological horror, and it makes me think of the end of paper hearts.

paper hearts is my favorite episode of the series, but also arguably the darkest, and it really serves to ground the characters in a way. it doesn’t get more brutal, for mulder, than 16 dead little girls. it doesn’t get more human, than digging for bones in the dirt.

in conduit, when he unearthed a body that might have been a missing teenager’s, she implored him to stop with protocol and reason. in oubliette, when he gave CPR to a cold kidnapping victim, she begged and tried to grab him. in paper hearts, she hears “help me,” and she digs with her bare hands.

in the end, their tones are so different. he gives her that smile and a hug (the same thing he did to try to convince his mother he was okay, earlier in the episode).

and she stares at the floor. she calmly strokes his hair, holds him. he hurts so much, for so long, and he has one person who knows it. “death’s best girl.”

and isn’t that a kind of shared madness, in itself? the things that control your lives and give you direction, not mattering or existing to anyone outside of that office?

his pain is real to her. samantha’s loss is real to her. they don’t know it yet, but what samantha suffered is closer to scully’s own experience than they had imagined. she is more entwined and enmeshed with this journey than she thinks.

“folie a deux” might be romance to some, but it isn’t to them. “you’re my one in five billion” might sweep some off their feet, but it doesn’t to them. it’s scary, and it’s painful.

the episode doesn’t end with her saving him through her own position. scully sees the monster, she joins him in delusion, and only then is he permitted safety.

it ends on the elevator, going down side-by-side, neither of them ever meeting the other's eye.

like you said, there are some things that are just too much to face.

[skatoonyfan1234]

The Lonely Ex-King

WARNING: SPOILERS for the film Wish. The former king of Rosas, trapped in his own staff, experiences anger, sadness, and then, loneliness, and defeat. [I do not & never ever will own Wish]

Deep in the Castle in the Kingdom of Rosas, there was a dungeon - a place where the worst ever lawbreakers to the kingdom were locked up.

On one of the walls in one of the cells in the dungeon, there, hung up on the wall, was a diamond mirror.

This diamond mirror housed King Magnifico, the ex-king of Rosas, having been defeated by Asha and her friends, and having lost his kingdom and reign to his own wife, Queen Amaya, and now, he was trapped in the finial of his diamond staff he'd created, and hung up on the wall in the castle dungeon.

He sighed, as he looked out longingly at the outside of the dungeon. "I used to be the King of Rosas," he lamented. "I used to be the one they asked for wishes. I used to be so adored." "And now look at me." he growled bitterly. "I've lost everything. Trapped in this mirror-like prison in the dungeon! All because of that… that… ASHA!!!!"

He remembered Asha; The girl who wanted to be his apprentice. The girl who stood up to him. The girl who wanted nothing more but to have her grandfather's wish granted.

The girl who, along with the help of her goat, Valentino, her friends, and his own wife, Amaya, beat him, folied his plan to steal Star, and trapped him in his own staff.

At the mention of her, King Magnifico felt a new emotion - Anger. It flared up inside him. His eyes glowed green, and rage bubbled in his blood.

"SHE DID THIS TO ME!" he yelled.

"SHE AND HER STUPID! IDIOT! FRIENDS!" He started breathing heavily, his mussed-up hair now even more mussed up than usual. "SHE, AND THAT WOMAN I USED TO CALL MY WIFE, AMAYA!" he snarled, his eye twitching. "THEY TOOK EVERYTHING I HAD AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!" He let out a fierce roar of anger. "I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE ON YOU!!!!!" he roared. "I will smash this prison and escape, if that's what it takes!" he yelled.

He punched the glass of his mirrored prison. To his surprise, it didn't crack. He tried again. Nothing. He pounded it over and over. Still nothing.

His heart pounding like mad, King Magnifico went into a full-blown tantrum, punching and kicking the glass of his mirrored prison rapidly, hoping it would at least crack.

"I Gave people their wishes!" he snapped as he pounded on the glass. "I helped them out, I fulfilled all their requests! All I want is a little respect!" His voice soon rose to a yell. "AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!!?!?!!?!" He let out an ear-breaking scream of anger, and pounded hard on the glass with both fists.

Slowly, but surely, his anger began to calm down. Rubbing his now throbbing hands, he stared at the glass in the mirror.

Sadly, not a single crack had formed in the glass. Reality struck him like a freight train. He was trapped in his own mirrored prison for eternity. He couldn't have felt more distraught in all his life. He slunk down to the floor.

And then…… He started to cry. Tears poured down his face and soaked into his robes. Loud uncontrollable sobs of anguish escaped from his throat, and echoed in the mirrored prison. King Magnifico pulled himself into a ball, clenched his eyes shut, and buried his face in his legs, trying to stifle his sobs.

"Some king I am." he mourned. "Trapped here for all eternity. It'll be a miracle if anyone, even Amaya, even talks to me. Nobody cares about me now." "Heck, i bet even a prisoner that comes to this dungeon won't even talk to me." he sulked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm nothing but a fool."

He shivered, for despite being trapped in a mirror-like prison, he could feel the cold of the dungeon. He pulled his cape over his body, and let himself mourn.

"I'm the lonliest man in the world now." he sobbed. "It's hopeless." His quiet muffled sobs echoed through the dark cold dungeon.

To say he deserved his fate was an understatement.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

I don't know if I'm winding down my time in this fandom, or if I just need a blank slate to work from, but I'm going to get a few partials out of the way, just in case that helps get me going again. As per usual, it's completely unfinished and doesn't have an ending. I called this one Folie a Deux.

---

Ingo was [at wit’s end/whatever]

They saw odd happenings at the station on a daily basis-- got a glimpse of hundreds of peculiar interactions and thousands of unique faces. No one would bat an eye if he reported watching [w/e], but apparently this was simply too much to believe.

For the past several days, Ingo had seen a man wandering the station, or on a rotating [?] of platforms. He recognized a substantial number of patrons, but this man was not one of them; his eye had been drawn by the [unique] garb, and after he’d noticed it, he’d been unable to not notice it the next day, or the one after that.

That wasn’t the strange part; people boarded trains dressed in far, far weirder, to the point that they saw Hatenna Miku cosplayers on a weekly basis. The part that Ingo simply couldn’t look past was that it just wasn’t a matter of the man’s chosen wardrobe.

He looked like him.

Now, that wasn’t a concept entirely divorced from reality, as Ingo saw his own face turned back at him on an hourly basis, but that wasn’t his brother. It wasn’t… exactly him, either, but all of the major strokes were there; the creases below the eyes and mild hunch weren’t enough to throw the uncanny resemblance off.

The first time he’d noticed, he’d passed it off as a trick of the imagination-- poor lighting that made him fill in the blanks with the features he was most familiar with-- but the second instance had disproven his theory. He’d been able to see the stranger’s face with perfect clarity, well enough to read the emotion in the tilt of his eyes and angle of his downturned lips: anxiety, anticipation-- the wanting for something, but the inability to reach out and take it. Ingo had seen much the same in the days he’d bothered to practice in a mirror, trying to force his face into anything that the layperson wouldn’t see as stern disapproval.

When he’d seen the man next, it had been on departure from a shift on the Multi Line, and he’d been startled to face that [wanting] stare head-on-- fixed not on him, but his twin standing beside him. It was followed by a flickering of attention, the realization that he was being watched in return, and they’d spent an [odd/uncanny] few seconds trapped in a mutual [stare]. Ingo hadn’t realized his gait had faltered until Emmet looped back to take him by the arm, asking what was wrong. He’d torn his gaze away to nod in the man’s direction, but all his brother had done was look, raise a brow, and said, “Huh. Verrrrry weird cosplay.”

Ingo hadn’t pressed; when he’d followed up, the man was poised to leave, shoulders raised uncomfortably with his hands clutching at his arms as he turned away. He was embarrassed, and it was kinder to let the matter drop. When they’d finished their shift for the day, Emmet had wondered, aloud, what the cosplay was supposed to be-- last week there had been a [theme] Miku, so what was the idea behind that version of Ingo’s uniform?

There was a key point of miscommunication in that [?] which+ Ingo didn’t notice until well after the fact.

The next time he saw the man, it was without the ragged hat and coat; he wasn’t focused on anyone or anything in particular, just staring blankly out over the crowds. Under different circumstances, Ingo might have passed it off as waiting on an arrival or biding time until his train arrived, but he wasn’t paying any attention to the world around him. No repeated looks at clock or scanning of the [crowd], just the [dull] [stare] of a man lost deep within his thoughts.

He wondered if he should let this [chance] pass without comment, but he felt he had to say something.

Ingo approached from an angle, so as not to march in with reckless abandon the way his twin might. He stopped a respectful distance away: close enough to be heard over the din of the station, but not so close that he was invading the man’s personal space.

He cleared his throat politely to wake him from his [trance] and said, “I’m terribly sorry if we made you self conscious the last time we met. It wasn’t [appropriate] of me to stare, and I promise you Emmet’s commentary was born of curiosity, not criticism.”

The man seemed tense as he listened, and while he nodded, accepting the apology, none of that [tension] bled out of his posture. He seemed like he was about to say something, then turned his head to cough into his far shoulder.

“It’s no matter, I wasn’t offended.” He said. His voice was rough, and… strange, like he was speaking in a lower register than came naturally to him. Ingo made a note of it for later, but not an urgent one; if he was a cosplayer, he could be practicing his vocal range.

Even if it was true that he hadn’t been offended, he’d clearly been ashamed of his previous ensemble. Ingo hadn’t been paying a great amount of attention, but broad strokes were the same as what he’d worn before-- a thick pink tunic and dark, unremarkable pants and shoes-- with the only changes being the absence of his coat and hat. It was the first time he’d seen him without them, and it couldn’t have been coincidence that the [change] had come directly after their last interaction.

“While I admit that I only saw your work in passing, the attention to detail was quite impressive.” Ingo knew it wasn’t just cosplay-- short of visual effects make up, no amount of contouring or [?] could recreate someone else’s face so precisely-- but he didn’t know what it was. Maybe, if he got to know the man, he could solve this minor mystery. Their conversation had been a short one thus far, but already, he could strike a curious Zorua or Zoroark from the list of possibilities.

The man didn’t say anything for a moment, and, eventually, his eyes [?] down to the ground. “I… don’t know what to say.”

On its face, it made perfect sense-- the words and the gesture together should have indicated bashfulness, and while that was a [subsect/subset?] of [being uncomfortable] he was simply uncomfortable. His pale skin was unmarred by any blush, and he wasn’t peeking up to gauge Ingo’s response. He was staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact. No denial in regards to being a cosplayer, but no attempt to lean into the cover story he’d just been handed, either. Interesting.

“I don’t mean to keep you from your work.” He said, risking a single glance in Ingo’s direction. His brows twitched inward, [?], and then flattened. “Please continue with your business, I’ll vacate the premises shortly.”

“There’s no need to--” Ingo began, only to be cut off when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“I’m interrupting.” Emmet announced-- not a question, no hint of apology, just boldly asserting his presence. In the moment’s distraction, the man turned and briskly walked away, leaving Ingo with no [?] but to see what his brother needed from him. “[idk why Emmet’s interrupting]”

[Response to the problem/whatever]

He nodded, and then glanced in the direction the stranger had vanished into the crowd. “Your conversation seems to be over. We can [?] immediately.”

“Thank you, I’ve noticed.” Ingo said, pinching the bridge of his nose. As he turned to accompany him, though, something clicked, “You didn’t recognize him?”

Emmet shrugged shallowly. “No. You did?”

“Of course I-- did you not look at his face?” He asked, promptly switching from one unhelpful thought to a more productive one. While Ingo’s initial statement began with disbelief, the question he rerouted to was genuinely [?]; there was every possibility that Emmet simply hadn’t noticed, too focused on the man’s clothes or [interruption].

“Vaguely.” His brother said, dashing that theory. “I saw no reason to investigate further.”

“How?” The disbelief was back, more potent than before. Ingo himself had passed it off as a quirk of the human mind at first, so he was reluctant to judge, but seeing the man head-on had dispelled his uncertainty. He simply couldn’t believe that Emmet had looked into this particular mirror and not seen his reflection [shining?] back at him.

Emmet’s face twitched in irritation and he waved a hand out over the crowd, demonstrating that he found this particular individual indistinguishable from the masses.

“He looked precisely like us, Emmet; it was uncanny.” […]

At that, his twin’s eyes lit up with comprehension, lips twitching at what he took to be a joke. “Oh. It was the cosplayer. Did you ask what the premise was?”

It was tempting to ask if Emmet was yanking his chain, but the subtleties of his expression made it clear: he hadn’t noticed a thing. He truly didn’t recognize the man-- either as the person he’d seen in passing, or on the basis of their own resemblance.

Was Ingo’s perception flawed, then? While he’d never been diagnosed with prosopagnosia, he occasionally failed to recognize commuters or coworkers in different environments. He’d thought it was just a natural function of the human mind, filtering out information when it wasn’t immediately relevant, but perhaps they were indicative of a greater problem? He was tempted to look back, as though the empty spot could answer any of his questions, but he refrained. Instead, he turned, bumping Emmet with his shoulder to get them moving, and [went to address the interruption].

He might have convinced himself that it was a [flaw] in his [?] after all, had pure coincidence not run them straight into one another once again.

The man’s cap and coat were still absent, leaving his face as the most identifiable part of him, but his clothes seemed to be the same as well. There were odd creases in the shirt, as though it had shifted while hanging out to dry, and odd creases below his eyes, as well.

[music-orthemisery]

wait, I'm confused, what's blondegate? what happened on the 4th of july 2011??? i'm new to the fob/peterick life please enlighten meeee

oh, anon, i am so giddy right now!

ok, first off, i'll point you to THIS timeline created by @princesspete, @dykepatrickstump, and @stumpwentz - a source-supported and straightforward theory that "fourth of july" is about july 4, 2011. i could just say go there, but, i'm a yapper, so i'll break it down a bit.

in (very) short:

things were...tense between p2 around folie times/early hiatus

there seemed to be some re-kindling in late 2010/early 2011 based on lots of tweets, references, etc. this is also when pete's marriage was ending...which could mean nothing, of course.

after july 4th, 2011 suddenly things go cold with them again and, on july 14th, patrick shows up at a cubs game sporting his bleach blonde hair (blondegate)

this was also the year of lollapalooza (august 2011) where they "missed" each others' performances and did not seem to be in contact

so, do we have concrete proof or knowledge? nah. do we know exactly what happened on that day? nope. but the p2 pieces just fall into place a little too easily here. like, why did they go from being the best of buddies again to ICE COLD by lolla?

and, i mean...blondegate is really just me joking around a bit. but it's a common trope for people to drastically change their hair after a big break-up. sooo....

if you really want to go to crazy town with me, though...

when "4th of july" was released, pete captioned this on fob's insta:

@princesspete did a post about the french parallels here for more info on how this ties together with everything. it's um...quite telling imo!

i am MORE than happy to keep yapping about this, so let me know what else you want to know about p2 world. it's literally TWO FUCKING DECADES of insanity and parallels and weaves. hence why i will never know peace...

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol. 9

Hi friends!! This week I read several series that had like... a lot of parts... including ones I've previously recced but just now finished (Looking at you Lie To Me by @iamskyereads). I also went to Pride and basically read nothing from Saturday to Monday. That being said, I'm pretty proud of the amount of fics I was able to scrounge up for y'all this week, and I think we have a pretty good selection.

The Spreadsheet can be found here and you're always welcome to tag me in a fic or send it to my askbox if you want me to read it (I'll read any Pedro boy!).

Recs below the Pedro:

Puppet - an Ezra one shot by @jksprincess10

I love these fics that are like "What if we went to extreme lengths to shut Ezra the fuck up," and I especially love how this one ends. Also the side effect bit made me giggle. You're a genius, Nad <3

Hot and Heavy - a Joel series by @tieronecrush

I think I established recently that I'm a sucker for the nanny trope. We also know I love angst. So here we have one of those time bomb relationships where we know it's gonna end, not once, but twice. Excellent angst/tention building. Then we also have super fucking sexy delicious smut, Joel being a fucking adorable father, reader being like actually awesome... and I lowkey think readers mom is on it but that's just me. OH and "Mariposa" are you KIDDING ME?! perfect.

Run to You - a Marcus Pike series by @foli-vora

Talk about angst... and it's fucking PERFECT. The little flashback scenes and then the sharp cut to such a painful present situation UGH. The world building is excellent. The characterization is so fucking good bc of COURSE Marcus would fall in love on an op of fucking course he would. Marcus "Marry Me" Pike over here. Fucking idiot. I love him. I can't wait to see how this story progresses. It is so. fucking. good.

Pretend Alleyways - a Dieter/Marcus Moreno series by @radiowallet

Would I ever have thought about pairing up Marcus Moreno and Dieter Bravo? No. Am I eternally grateful someone put my two softboys together? YES. They are so perfect together. So sweet and precious. They need each other fr. This made me all warm and fuzzy inside and also horny obviously.

Like Water in Your Hands - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters (Part of the Punisher anthology)

I. Love. This. So. Fucking. Much. Top tier. The smut? The plot? The characterization? Queen shit.

Don't Be Scared - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Din being scared/nervous omg. So cute and sexy. I love him so much UGH. Looking forward to the Din revival fr

the lakes - a Joel one shot by @tieronecrush (Part of the folklore anthology)

This is literally one of my greatest non-smutty fantasies with Joel. Just telling him how much he means to me and promising to be there for him and convincing him to let himself be happy and comfortable. I wanna hug that man so bad AGH. This was beautiful Sam <3

Summer Lovin' - a Joel one shot by @atinylittlepain

I don't know why I've been reading so much asshole!Joel lately.... but I'm loving it. I love all the little details in this. I was genuinely pissed the fuck off at Joel. I have more sympathy for the ice cream than that fucking idiot. Sarah, his ex, and reader all deserve so much better than that dipshit UGH

Unusual Situation - a Din/Ezra one shot by @absurdthirst

Not only am I back on my Din/Reader/Ezra bullshit AND my M/M/F bullshit in general, but this is the fic that caused it. These two space idiots were meant to be together, I am 100% certain. The way Ezra manages to gently reassure Din that reader wants him while they're both balls deep in various holes....??? How do you do it. How do you make something tender and sweet while also being complete and utter filth. I am fascinated.

Of Gorgons and Gardens - a Din/Ezra series by @concussed-to-pieces

Following the absurdthirst story, I found this one.... and boy howdy. I am a SLUT for sex pollen fics, so obviously that was excellent. I also love how it was like "oh the plant makes men want to fuck women" but hinted that neither of them would be particularly upset about fucking each other either. Mando was like... i don't give a fuck, dude. And then it went from absurdly smutty (but also kinda sweet) in part one, to just like tender and sweet in part two. Like yeah yeah horrible harrowing near death experience yada yada... the STUBBLE SCENE??? The PAIN KINK?? the TOUCHING?? I just about died. And then in part three we get my top all time kink PLUS Din and Ezra and Reader just being so sweet it hurts a little. I am feral for these boys UGH. AND AND the nickname being bird in mando'a was so clever??

Late July - a Jack (Whiskey) series by @concussed-to-pieces

So I read the Din/Ezra thing and obviously had to peruse the masterlist. I love my dear appalachian cowboy. I really really liked the whole premise of this story and the follow ups. The smut is fucking masterful but also like hello, plot??? Truly incredible. I really liked seeing frat-boy Jack and also seeing him work through his trauma and shit. But also Jack tied to a chair need I say more?

Defanged - a Din one shot by @concussed-to-pieces

Alright so this one is the same sex pollen from OGaG but it doesn't hurt which is super dope. Hey Alexa play "In Love with a Stripper" but it's Din in love with a sex worker just bc he put his dick in her. I fuckin love this.

hunt and peck - a Javi P one shot by @toxicanonymity

You really said lets take this slut and make him even hornier and I LOVE IT.

----------oldies but goodies-----------

soft!dom joel - a Joel a series by @joelscruff

Letterman Jacket - a Javi P series by @fuckyeahdindjarin

I want you to stay - a Dieter one shot by @ezrasbirdie

Below the Line - a Dieter series by @prolix-yuy

Midnight Rider a Jack (Whiskey) one shot by jazzelsaur (ao3)

Rare - a Joel a one shot by @swiftispunk

One Hundred and Fifty Seven - a Din one shot by @theidiotwhowritesthings

Heatwaves - a Javi P two shot by @mishasminion360

In the Dark - an Ezra series by @frannyzooey (favorite ez ever maybe)

Lover of mine - a Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Morning - a Dieter series by @write-and-buried

--------------my recents-------------

In the next one - based on Lucy Dacus' (boygenius) song We're in Love and a standalone addition to my loose fit Dieter series A Ghost of You - focuses on Dieter's belief that he's been with you in every single past life and lost you in each of them + him coming to terms with his belief that he'll lose you in this one too.

----------------------------------------

Happy Reading

[americas1suiteheart]

Hey 👋

Favourite fall out boy songs??

That's difficult, but I do know my number one is definitely "The Take's Over, The Breaks Over". Here's a ranking of all their albums and singles that I have though!

-Albums ranked:

1. Infinity on High

2. Folie A Deux

3. From Under The Cork Tree

4. Take This To Your Grave

5. MANIA

6. American Beauty/American Psycho

7. So Much (For) Stardust

8. Save Rock And Roll

9. Evening Out With Your Girlfriend

Singles Ranked:

1. PAX AM Days

2. My Heart Will Always Be the B-Side to My Tounge

3. Lake Effect Kid

Singles *songs* that weren't on an album ranked:

1. Alpha Dog

2. Dear Future Self (Hands Up)

3. From Now On We Are Enemies

4. Bob Dylan

5. I've Been Waiting (featured with Lil Peep)

6. Ghostbusters Theme for Ghostbusters 2016

-Albums-

Project Rocket - 2002

1. You Charlatan

2. Formula For Love

3. Someday

4. Switchblades and Infidelity

5. Moving Pictures

6. Growing Up

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend - 2003

1. Pretty In Punk

2. Switchblades And Infidelity

3. The World's Not Waiting (For Five Guys In A Broken Down Van)

4. Moving Pictures

5. Honerable Mention

6. Short, Fast, And Loud

7. Parker Lewis Can't Lose (But I'm Gonna Give It My Best Shot)

8. Calm Before The Storm

9. Growing Up

Take This To Your Grave - 2003

1. The Patreon Saint Of Liars And Fakes

2. Saturday

3. Dead On Arrival

4. Grenade Jumper

5. Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy

6. Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over

7. Chicago Is So Two Years Ago

8. Homesick At Space Camp

9. Tell Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today

10. Calm Before The Storm

11. Pros And Cons Of Breathing

12. Sending Postcards From A Plane Crash

From Under The Cork Tree - 2005

1. Sugar, We're Goin Down

2. Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends

3. Nobody Put Baby In The Corner

4. 7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen)

5. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"

6. Dance, Dance

7. XO

8. I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

9. Of All The Gin Joints In All The World

10. Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

11. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going

To Shows)

12. I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth

(Summer Song)

13. Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued

My Heart Will Always Be The B-Side To My Tounge - 2005

1. It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine, I'm Thinking It Must Be The Love

2. Love Will Tear Us Apart (Cover)

3. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

4. Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner (Acoustic)

5. Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy (Acoustic)

FUTCT Limited Tour Edition (Not on original album) - 2006

1. The Music Or The Misery

2. Snitches And Talkers Get Stitches And Walkers

3. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon (Demo)

Infinity On High - 2007

1. "The Take's Over, The Breaks Over"

2. Bang The Doldrums

3. Don't Yoy Know Who I Think I Am?

4. Fame<Infamy

5. G.I.N.A.S.F.S (Gay Is Not A Synonym For Shitty

6. The Carpal Tunnel Of Love

7. You're Crashing, But You're No Wave

8.The Afterlife Of The Party

9. Golden

10. This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race

11. I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Fingers

12. Thanks Fr Th Mmrs

13. I'm Like A Lawyer With The Way I'm Always Trying To Get You Off (Me And You)

14. It's Hard To Say "I Do" When I Don't

15. Hum Halleluja

16. Thriller

Folie A Deux - 2008

1. America's Suitehearts

2. She's My Winona

3. I Don't Care

4. Headfirst Slide Into Copperstown

5. Tiffany Blews

6. w.a.m.s

7. 27

8. West Coast Smoker

9. The (Shipped) Gold Standard

10. (Coffee's For Closers)

11. Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes

12. 20 Dollar Nosebleed

13. Pavlove

14. What A Catch, Donnie

Save Rock And Roll - 2013

1. Death Valley

2. The Pheonix

3. Where Did The Party Go

4. Miss Missing You

5. Save Rock And Roll

6.Just One Yesterday

7. Young Volcanoes

8. The Mighty Fall

9. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light 'Em Up)

10. Alone Together

11. Rat A Tat

American Beauty/American Psycho - 2015

1. Irrisistible

2. The Kids Aren't Alright

3. Novacaine

4. American Beauty/American Psycho

5. Uma Thurman

6. Immortals

7. Favorite Record

8. Fourth Of July

9. Centuries

10. Jet Pack Blues

11. Twin Skeleton's (Hotel In NYC)

MANIA - 2018

1. HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T

2. Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)

3. Sunshine Riptide

4. Young And Menace

5. Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea

6. Bishops Knife Trick

7. Champion

8. Last Of The Real Ones

9. Church

10. Heaven's Gate

Lake Effect Kid - 2018

1. Super Fade

2. City In a Garden

3. Lake Effect Kid

So Much (For Stardust) - 2023

1. Heaven, Iowa

2. So Much (For) Stardust

3. So Good Right Now

4. Fake Out

5. Baby Annihilation

6. Hold Me Like A Grudge

7. Flu Game

8. I Am My Own Muse

9. The Pink Seashell

10. Love From The Other Side

11. We Didn't Start The Fire (Cover)

12. Heartbreak Feels So Good

13. The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

[snowbunnytrick]

(I think I nearly blacked out writing this I was possessed by the divine Peterick spirit. I'm too scared to put this on my own blog but I need the world to hear and I think you'd like this ram me based on your fic ref list)

Not to like, insanely dead dove-ify peterick but something that swims around in my head SO MUCH is how it really does feel like Pete took Patrick on a whirlwind when he was just a kid. Some slightly creepy, hopelessly suppressed bi-curious in the early 2000s, touch starved, boystarved, Patrick-starved 20/21 year old falling in love at first sight with a precious, pink, stupidly awkward dork 16 year old. So much that he still remembers what Patrick was wearing. Doesn't care for his audio recordings that Joe showed him until he SEES him, yknow? There's an inherent freakness there.

Promising his mom you'll take good care of him and sleeping next to and on top of him, crowded and trapped in the back of a shitty van you can barely cover the gas costs of. Spinning around and shoving against him on stage and screaming in his mic and getting to take him home with you every day. Your golden ticket, a sweaty teenager getting into YOUR van.

Ugh and I could go on forever about it. How by ioh there's this inkling of Patrick growing up. Still so young but getting his senses. Seeing how real relationships work. He's in his 20s now. 22/23 and Pete 26/27 and seeing his grip loosening. He knows he's losing him. He's even clingier on stage, writing love songs about teenage promises and calling him before calling even his mom after overdosing. (Though I'm not sure if that one is urban legend.)

I think part of how bad the band dynamic was after Folie was that venom Patrick had for Pete. It's 25/26 and 29/30. Patrick sees Pete being sold as this tabloid figurehead and he's stolen his late teens and early 20s. Spent his last high school summer with this dickhead who can't keep his life together. Who fights with him on everything and he needs out NOW but Pete's holding on so tight he's drawing blood and then licking the wounds. He needs him.

Soul Punk being the flop it was (completely ahead of it's time, besides the point) and feeling like you've failed. Pete made you peak and dragged you down with him. You can't start over. So you give in. He asks to hang out again and you get those words again. The same ones that made your brain light up with their rhythm at 16. The drummer in you. And you go back to him. And things are scary and careful and you're walking on eggshells but it's nice. It comfortable. You sink back in and do 2 records back to back. He's learned. He knows what he's done to you but he doesn't have to apologize. His lyrics are his apology.

Mania being so polarizing, too. Trying new things and not letting it get to you this time. You've conquered each other, you don't need the world. You can write music for each other and yourself and no one else. And stardust is just. So so so full circle. It's okay. Everything makes sense again. You can dance on stage and Pete can recite his words to people and not just a recording booth. It's 39 and 44 and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH OH MY GOD ……. what a wonderful little essay you’re SO fucking right!!!! something that has always drawn me back to them after drifting back and forth to them in bursts of obsession is just. like. every single little facet of their relationship that has developed over the years and how it all well and truly stemmed from this very strange, unnatural, curious, twisted, enchanting fascination that this local too-sick celebrity cursed/blessed with boundless charm and a too-big heart and so much ink and mean white teeth and dirty dirty hands had with this fucking geeky teenage boy with patchy sideburns and bitten-through red lips and an off-kilter voice that he was still trying to grow into and limp skinny wrists and a pudgy stomach. he took that teenage boy to college parties, he bought him gifts, he took him to the movies, he made sure to saturate every square inch of his life with this new world that this kid was being thrust into—partially by force. waiting with baited breath until summer break starts and taking him across the country with him to breathe into his neck and touch him and tug on him and push him around until he snaps and it feels so fucking good when he does. patrick’s entire adolescence and the foundation of the rest of his life was permanently altered through pete and everything that started in the summer of 2001 still remains to this day in little touches and glances and inside jokes and intimacy and tenderness and adoration that most people would kill to feel. it’s so endlessly, hopelessly romantic and there are so many wounds that have been pulled open along the way and then either clumsily or carefully sewn back up…..… all these moments of intense codependency and tragedy and violence and anguish and possession and desperation. they feel so deeply for each other that it’s manifested so many times in the worst that humanity has to offer. i’ll never get away from them because they will never get away from each other because they physically can’t. it destroys them every single time it happens. and that makes me happy

[suterbuyout2024]

tagged by @fedorovista and @folie-a-dewey!! thank u!!

9 favorite albums in no particular order under the cut:

*** just as a sidenote, because i like too much music, i'm doing albums i like as cohesive units. albums that hold together and tell a story. albums that i listen to from start to finish because the songs go together in a particular order in my mind, for whatever reason.

strange trails by lord huron. world's most perfect story album. need i even elaborate. maybe my favorite album of all time. the musical & lyrical motifs that carry through the whole thing, the examination of romance and death and the way they intertwine, the whole convoluted multi-character storyline that underlies it. if you like folk music and undeath and evil women, please for the love of god listen to this album.

we were dead before the ship even sank by modest mouse. world's second most perfect story album. now, if you were to ask me, hey, what IS the story this album is trying to tell? i couldn't begin to answer. but this album is just. omg. the tone is so cohesive throughout while still allowing for changes in register, concept, and overall sound. also has the best opening line to an album in the history of albums.

so much for stardust by fall out boy. okay this one's a gimme but come on. pop-punk retrospective on the state of the world since 2016? with lyricism that makes me weep? came out just weeks after i the birthday where i realized that i wanted to be alive for the first time in like three years? it's not even close.

jenny from thebes by the mountain goats. NOW LISTEN. i knowww it's just the most recent mountain goats album. why, you might be asking, did i not go for beat the champ instead? and the answer is i can only choose 9 albums and i think jenny from thebes is underrated. life-changing lyricism with orchestral instrumentation that could tear me in half. also i've talked so much about it on this blog i think it would be wrong of me not to mention it.

in sickness and in flames by the front bottoms. talk about cohesion!!!!! a whole album that is essentially a love letter to all the messiest parts of a relationship! all the characters are so interesting and flawed!! and every single one of the songs are unapologetically horny to boot. also just the transitions between songs are soooooooo good. not to be the 'jerk/the truth' guy but um. the switch from jerk into the truth is one of my all-time faves.

doom days by bastille. i'm an apocalypse junkie. next.

science from an easy chair by have gun, will travel. this is entirely the wrong blog but HEY. if anyone out there likes the terror, this album is for you. it's a story concept album about ernest shackleton's expedition to antarctica aboard the endurance. the first song i heard from it was the rescue party, which is one of the most atmospheric story-focused folk songs i've ever heard. just unbelievably emotional and smart. love it.

lungs by florence + the machine. you've seen my recent posts. howl & kiss with a fist & i'm not calling you a liar & rabbit heart & my boy builds coffins &. well. you get it.

mixtape for the milky way by mixtape for the milky way. hi fellow minnesotans. go listen to jeremy messersmith's side project album about being raised in a fundamentalist christian cult. go on. noooo it won't hurt you. don't worry it's not heartbreaking at all. it's not my favorite album of his since the silver city or anything haha that would be crazy. 👀

ok that got way too long whoops BUT thank you to the folks who tagged me!! i love chatting music so if u see this & want to make your own PLEASE tag me !!!