#can’t help myself the album art looks so cool

[delirisse]

Inspired by Demon Mode album art

[w1w2]

If You

Kim Chaewon x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: ca. 6k

Synopsis: After a breakup, Y/N and Chaewon navigate the lingering ache of lost love, each weighed down by memories and regrets. “If you’re struggling like I am, Can’t we make things a little easier?”

For better experience listen to IF YOU by BIGBANG

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Rain fell steadily against the windows, the sound a soft rhythm that filled the stillness of the apartment. Y/N sat hunched over her desk, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the screen of her phone. Her bedroom, usually alive with warmth and color, felt muted tonight. The fairy lights strung along the walls barely flickered, and the soft hum of the heater failed to chase away the cold she felt deep inside.

Her thumb hovered over a photo album labeled Us. She hadn’t opened it in weeks, telling herself she’d moved on or at least trying to believe it. But the quiet pull of nostalgia had a way of finding her, especially on nights like this. With a heavy sigh, she tapped on the folder.

The first image was a selfie of her and Chaewon, their cheeks pressed together, grinning under the golden haze of a setting sun. Chaewon’s fingers had been loosely wrapped around Y/N’s wrist, a bracelet glinting against her skin.

Y/N smiled faintly at the memory, but the ache in her chest quickly followed. The weight of the silence in her room pressed down harder, and she swiped through the photos slowly, each one unraveling pieces of the past.

There was one of them at a café, Chaewon holding up a latte with a heart-shaped foam art and a playful wink. Another at the beach, their feet buried in the sand, the ocean stretching endlessly behind them. And yet another of Chaewon asleep on Y/N’s shoulder during a late-night movie marathon, her face peaceful and angelic.

Y/N’s hand trembled as she locked her phone and set it down. This was a mistake, she thought. Letting herself drown in these memories always left her feeling emptier. But tonight, she couldn’t stop herself.

She turned to her desk drawer and pulled out a small, velvet-lined jewelry box. Inside, nestled against the soft fabric, was the bracelet. Silver, delicate, and simple. Chaewon had chosen it carefully, telling her it reminded her of Y/N “elegant and understated but beautiful in a way you can’t stop noticing.”

Y/N traced the cool metal with her fingertips, her mind pulling her back to the day she received it.

Flashback

It had been their first anniversary, and Y/N had expected nothing more than a quiet dinner together. They had agreed to keep it simple, both claiming they didn’t need grand gestures.

Chaewon, however, had a way of surprising her.

They were walking home after dinner, Y/N laughing at a story Chaewon had told about one of her members accidentally locking themselves out of their dorm room. The streetlights cast warm pools of light around them, and the crisp evening air carried the faint scent of blooming flowers.

“Wait,” Chaewon had said suddenly, stopping in her tracks.

Y/N blinked, confused as Chaewon rummaged in her coat pocket. “What are you doing?”

Chaewon looked up with a sheepish grin, her cheeks slightly pink. “I said no big gifts, but…” She pulled out a small box and held it out. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Y/N’s heart had skipped a beat. “Chaewon…”

“Just open it.”

Inside was the bracelet. The delicate design caught the light as Y/N lifted it from the box, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Chaewon took it from her hands and gently fastened it around her wrist. Her fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against Y/N’s skin. “Now you’ll always have a piece of me with you,” she said softly, her voice full of affection.

Y/N had stared at her then, struck by how much love Chaewon could pour into the simplest moments. She threw her arms around her, holding her tightly, their laughter mingling with the quiet hum of the city around them.

End of the Flashback

The memory was so vivid that for a moment, Y/N could almost feel Chaewon’s arms around her again. But as she opened her eyes, reality crashed back in. The bracelet was still there, cool and unmoving in her hand, but Chaewon was gone.

The emptiness in the room felt unbearable. Y/N clenched the bracelet tightly in her fist, her knuckles whitening.

“What happened to us?” she murmured into the silence.

Her mind spiraled with questions she’d asked herself countless times before. Had she taken Chaewon for granted? Had she missed the signs of her growing unhappiness? Or had the weight of their lives—Chaewon’s demanding schedule, the secrecy of their love—become too much to bear?

She placed the bracelet back into the jewelry box and closed it gently, as if sealing away the memory. But the ache in her chest remained, sharp and persistent.

This was her routine now—revisiting their past in quiet moments, replaying every detail until it felt like she was living it all over again. It was both a comfort and a torment, a way to feel close to Chaewon but also a reminder of how far apart they’d become.

The rain outside grew heavier, drumming against the window like a heartbeat. Y/N leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the raindrops racing down the glass. Somewhere out there, Chaewon was living her life, moving forward, maybe even smiling again.

Y/N wondered if Chaewon ever thought about her, if she too had a box of memories hidden away. Or maybe she had already let go, the way Y/N couldn’t seem to.

Her throat tightened as tears blurred her vision. “If you…” she whispered, the words trailing off into the quiet room.

For a moment, she allowed herself to hope—just for a moment—that Chaewon missed her too.

But that hope carried her back to the moment she couldn’t stop replaying in her mind, the moment everything fell apart.

Flashback

The park was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional laughter of children playing in the distance. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, as if the universe had decided to wrap the day in beauty, completely unaware of the storm brewing between two hearts.

Y/N sat on the edge of a weathered wooden bench, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. The coolness of the wood seeped through her jeans, grounding her in a reality she didn’t want to face. Chaewon stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her figure was silhouetted against the setting sun, but the tension in her posture betrayed her calm façade.

The silence between them was deafening.

Finally, Chaewon broke it. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to say this.”

Y/N turned to her, her heart pounding so loudly she thought it might drown out the words she didn’t want to hear. “Just say it,” she urged, though every fiber of her being wanted to run.

Chaewon took a deep breath, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “I’ve been thinking about us. About everything.” Her voice wavered, and she paused, struggling to find the right words. “And I… I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Y/N blinked, the words not registering at first. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Chaewon turned to face her fully, and for the first time, Y/N saw the pain etched on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if holding herself together was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“It’s not you,” Chaewon said quickly, taking a step closer. “It’s everything else. The pressure, the schedules, the constant hiding… I thought I could balance it all, but I can’t.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “So, what? You’re just giving up? Throwing us away?”

Chaewon flinched, her eyes darting to the ground. “I’m not throwing anything away. This is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.”

“Then don’t make it!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she stood, her emotions spilling over. “We can figure it out, Chaewon. We always do. I can wait for you. I’ll be patient. Just… don’t do this.”

Chaewon looked up at her, tears now brimming in her eyes. “You deserve more than waiting, Y/N. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, their whole life. And right now, I can’t do that.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut. She staggered back, shaking her head. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve. I choose you, Chaewon. Isn’t that enough?”

Chaewon stepped forward, reaching for her, but stopped herself halfway. Her hands fell limply to her sides. “It’s not enough for me,” she whispered.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and rustling the leaves above them. Y/N stared at Chaewon, her vision blurring with tears. “You’re lying,” she said, her voice hollow. “You’re just scared. Scared that I’ll see you struggle, that I’ll know you’re not perfect. But I already know, Chaewon. I know, and I still love you.”

Chaewon turned away, her shoulders shaking as she bit back a sob. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she said, her voice breaking.

Y/N took a step closer, desperate to close the growing distance between them. “Then tell me you don’t love me,” she demanded. “Say it, and I’ll walk away right now.”

Chaewon froze. The words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. She turned back to Y/N, her face streaked with tears. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Say it,” Y/N repeated, her voice trembling.

“I can’t,” Chaewon admitted finally, her voice barely audible. “Because I do love you. More than you know. But love isn’t enough.”

The finality in her tone shattered something inside Y/N. She sank back onto the bench, her body numb. The coolness of the wood beneath her felt sharper now, almost painful.

Chaewon crouched in front of her, their faces inches apart. “You’ll be okay,” she said softly, though her own expression betrayed the words. “You’re strong, Y/N. Stronger than me.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend this is for my sake when it’s killing both of us.”

Chaewon reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s cheek. For a moment, they stayed like that, frozen in the fragile space between holding on and letting go.

“I’m sorry,” Chaewon whispered, her voice breaking. She stood, her hand slipping away as if it physically hurt her to let go.

Y/N watched her take a step back, then another. Her silhouette blurred as tears filled Y/N’s eyes again. Somewhere in the distance, a bird took flight, its wings slicing through the golden sky.

“Chaewon…” Y/N called out, her voice small and desperate.

Chaewon stopped but didn’t turn around. “I’ll always love you,” she said softly, the words carried away by the wind.

And then she walked away.

Y/N sat there long after Chaewon disappeared from view. The sunset had faded, the sky now tinged with the deep blues of twilight. The sounds of the park grew distant, muffled by the weight of her grief.

The bird circled overhead before flying out of sight, leaving Y/N alone with the emptiness.

End of the Flashback

The memory faded, but the ache it left behind was as sharp as ever. Y/N rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, the faint hum of rain against her apartment window grounding her in the present. It didn’t matter how many times she revisited that day—it always felt as raw as if it had just happened.

She let out a slow, shuddering breath, running her fingers through her hair. The stillness in the room was suffocating, so she grabbed her coat and keys, deciding she couldn’t stay here any longer. Maybe a change of scenery would help, though deep down she knew better.

Moments later, she found herself standing outside the café, her hand resting on the door handle.

The café smelled of roasted coffee and freshly baked pastries, a comforting blend that had once been a backdrop to Y/N’s happiest moments. She pushed open the glass door, the small bell overhead chiming softly. The sound felt familiar, like an echo from a distant memory.

The barista greeted her with a polite smile, but Y/N barely noticed. Her gaze instinctively went to the corner booth near the window—their booth. It was empty, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. For a second, she hesitated, considering sitting elsewhere. But her feet carried her there anyway, as if her heart couldn’t resist the pull.

She slid into the seat, running her hand along the polished wooden table. The grooves and scratches, so subtle to most, felt like a map of memories. Chaewon had once doodled on a napkin here, sketching a caricature of Y/N that had them both in stitches. Y/N had kept that napkin, tucked away somewhere she couldn’t bear to look now.

The barista brought over her usual—a caramel latte, the same drink Chaewon had loved. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said casually.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice quiet. “I’ve been… busy.”

The barista nodded and left her alone. Y/N wrapped her hands around the warm mug, staring into the swirls of foam. She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, from pulling her back to a time when this seat across from her wasn’t empty.

Flashback

“Is it weird that I like dipping my croissant into my latte?” Chaewon asked, breaking off a flaky piece of pastry.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not weird, just… very you.”

Chaewon pouted, pretending to be offended. “You’re saying I’m weird?”

“You’re adorable,” Y/N corrected, leaning forward to steal a bite of the croissant.

Chaewon grinned, her eyes crinkling in that way that made Y/N’s heart race. “Good save.”

They sat there for hours, talking about everything and nothing. Chaewon’s dreams, her fears, her struggles as a leader. Y/N had listened intently, holding her hand across the table and promising her that she’d always be there, no matter what.

End of Flashback

Y/N blinked, the memory dissolving like sugar in hot coffee. She glanced at the seat across from her, and her chest tightened. The space felt too vast, too empty.

She took a sip of her latte, the sweetness doing little to ease the bitterness in her heart.

Later that day, Y/N found herself walking aimlessly through the streets. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but her feet seemed to lead her toward the park. It wasn’t the same one where they’d broken up, but it held the same quiet serenity, the same crisp air that felt too sharp against her skin.

As she passed a group of teenagers laughing and taking selfies, a voice called out to her. “Hey, aren’t you Y/N?”

She turned to see a young girl, probably no older than 16, looking at her with wide, starstruck eyes. “I think you’re Y/N! You used to… you were close to LE SSERAFIM, right? I saw pictures of you with Kim Chaewon a while back.”

Y/N forced a smile, though she felt her chest constrict. “Yeah, I know them,” she said softly.

The girl’s face lit up. “That’s so cool! Chaewon is amazing, isn’t she? I just saw their new performance. It was incredible.”

Y/N nodded, her smile faltering. “She’s… she’s really talented.”

The girl didn’t seem to notice the sadness in her tone. She waved goodbye cheerfully, leaving Y/N standing alone on the path.

The tightness in her chest grew heavier. Chaewon was amazing, and she always had been. Y/N had known it from the start. But had she done enough to make sure Chaewon knew how much she believed in her?

Back at home, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the open journal on her lap. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of her bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls.

She picked up her pen, hesitating for a moment before pressing it to the page.

Chaewon,I don’t even know where to start. Every time I think about you, it feels like there’s this weight in my chest that I can’t get rid of. I miss you. I miss your voice, your laugh, the way you always knew exactly what to say when I was feeling lost.

Do you ever think about me? About us?

I’ve been replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. I keep thinking about all the times I could’ve done more, been better for you. Like that night you called me after your concert in Busan.

Flashback

The call had come late, long past midnight. Y/N had been half-asleep, but the moment Chaewon’s name lit up her screen, she’d answered.

“Hey,” Chaewon’s voice was soft, but there was a tremor in it that made Y/N sit up immediately. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Y/N lied. “What’s wrong?”

There was a long pause before Chaewon spoke again. “I don’t know. I just… everything feels so heavy sometimes. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she said firmly. “I’m here, Chaewon. Always.”

Chaewon had sighed, a shaky sound that broke Y/N’s heart even more. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

End of Flashback

Y/N closed her journal, her hand trembling. She had been there for Chaewon in that moment, but had it been enough? Had she done enough to make Chaewon feel like she wasn’t alone?

Her gaze shifted to the window, where the rain had started again, soft and unrelenting. She placed the journal on her nightstand and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The silence in the room felt unbearable, but it was a silence she’d grown used to.

“Chaewon,” she whispered into the stillness. “I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the air, unanswered, yet Y/N couldn’t stop herself from hoping they would somehow reach her. Somewhere out there, in a different room under different lights, Chaewon was living her life—perhaps moving on, perhaps not. Y/N couldn’t know for sure.

But Chaewon felt it too, the weight of the same silence.

The steady thump of the bass reverberated through the rehearsal studio, punctuated by the sound of sneakers scuffing against the polished floor. Chaewon moved in sync with her members, her every step sharp, her every turn precise. Yet her mind wasn’t on the choreography.

Her focus wavered as a familiar melody filtered through the speakers. The upbeat tempo and bright vocals felt out of place against the storm brewing in her chest. She froze mid-movement, her heart lurching as she recognized the song. It was Y/N’s favorite—something they used to sing along to during long car rides, the windows down, laughter spilling into the wind.

The music blared on, but Chaewon’s breath hitched. Her chest tightened, the walls of the studio suddenly feeling too close, the air too thin.

“Chaewon, are you okay?” Sakura asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Chaewon forced a smile, nodding quickly. “I’m fine. Just… need a minute.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried out of the studio, the sound of the song fading as the door closed behind her.

In the quiet hallway, Chaewon leaned against the wall, her hand pressed to her chest as if that could still the ache. It had been weeks since she’d last seen Y/N, but the memories clung to her like shadows, surfacing when she least expected them.

Back in her dorm room, the glow of her phone screen illuminated Chaewon’s face. She lay curled on her bed, her knees tucked to her chest, scrolling through her photo gallery.

There was one of Y/N asleep on her shoulder, her face peaceful and soft in the dim light of Chaewon’s living room. Another of Y/N laughing mid-bite during a makeshift dinner date at her apartment, the kitchen behind her a chaotic mess of half-prepped ingredients.

Chaewon’s thumb hovered over a video. She hesitated, then tapped play.

The video started with Y/N holding the camera, pouting playfully. “Say hi to your fans, Chaewon!”

Chaewon appeared in the frame, her cheeks pink as she groaned, “Y/N, I’m off-duty.”

“But you’re so cute!” Y/N teased, leaning in to kiss Chaewon’s cheek, earning a shy laugh from the idol.

The video ended, and Chaewon set her phone down, staring at the ceiling. The quiet of her room was deafening, filled only with the faint hum of the city outside.

Chaewon rubbed her eyes, willing the tears away. She had thought walking away from Y/N was the right choice. Her schedule was relentless, her responsibilities as a leader unyielding. Being with Y/N had started to feel selfish, like she was holding her back from the happiness she deserved.

But now, lying alone in her dorm, Chaewon wondered if she had been wrong.

She had everything she had ever dreamed of—fame, success, adoration from fans across the world. Yet none of it filled the emptiness Y/N had left behind.

Her fingers brushed against her nightstand, where a Polaroid of the two of them rested, tucked into the corner of her mirror. In the photo, Y/N was smiling brightly, her arms draped around Chaewon’s shoulders. Chaewon was looking at her, her expression soft, as if she couldn’t believe someone like Y/N had chosen her.

Now, all Chaewon could see in the mirror was the shadow of the person she had been in that photo.

Flashback

It had been a rare evening off, and Chaewon had done something she almost never did: she broke the rules.

She had slipped away from the dorms, her cap pulled low over her face, and made her way to Y/N’s apartment. Y/N opened the door, her surprise melting into a delighted smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” Chaewon admitted, stepping inside.

Y/N pulled her into a hug, and for the first time in weeks, Chaewon felt the tension in her shoulders ease.

They spent the night cooking together, though “cooking” was a generous term. Y/N was terrible at following recipes, and Chaewon wasn’t much better, but they didn’t care. Flour dusted the countertops, and burnt garlic wafted through the air, but their laughter drowned out every mishap.

When they finally sat down to eat their poorly made pasta, Y/N raised her glass of soda dramatically. “To us, the culinary disasters.”

“To us,” Chaewon repeated, her voice warm.

Later, as they sat on the couch, Y/N leaned in and kissed her softly. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

Chaewon’s heart swelled, and she held Y/N close, wishing the moment could last forever.

End of Flashback

Chaewon blinked back to the present, the memory lingering like a ghost in the room. Her eyes drifted to the corner of her dorm, where a small plant sat on a shelf. It was drooping, its leaves pale and dry.

She frowned, realizing she had forgotten to water it—again. She got up and carried the pot to the sink, running water over the parched soil.

The plant looked pitiful, and Chaewon couldn’t help but see herself in it. With Y/N, she had thrived, her life full of color and light. Without her, she felt like she was wilting, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.

She placed the plant back on the shelf, her hands lingering on the pot. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, unsure if she was speaking to the plant, herself, or Y/N.

The next morning, Chaewon was back on stage, the spotlight blinding, her voice steady as she greeted the cheering fans. To them, she was confident, radiant, untouchable.

But as she danced and sang, her heart felt heavy. She wondered if anyone could see the cracks beneath her polished exterior, the vulnerability she worked so hard to hide.

Behind the scenes, when the music stopped and the lights dimmed, Chaewon sat alone in the dressing room, her fingers brushing over the Polaroid tucked into her bag.

For all her fame and success, she had never felt so alone.

That night, she returned to her dorm, her mind heavy with thoughts of Y/N. Sleep didn’t come easily, the memories of their time together playing on a loop in her head.

The next morning dawned gray and quiet, the city blanketed in clouds that promised rain. Chaewon sat by the window of the dorm’s common area, watching droplets streak the glass as they started to fall. Her schedule for the day was mercifully light, but the free time only left more room for the ache in her chest to grow.

Y/N sat in a café. It was as quiet as Y/N had ever seen it, the usual hum of chatter replaced by the gentle patter of rain against the large glass windows. She sat in their favorite corner, her hands wrapped around a warm mug. Outside, the rain blurred the world into watercolor streaks, the kind of scene that always felt more like a memory than reality.

She stared at the rain, her thoughts tangled with images of Chaewon. No matter how many times she tried to bury the memories, they always found their way back to her. The sound of a bell chiming above the café door barely registered in her mind.

Until she saw her.

Chaewon.

The world seemed to slow as Y/N’s eyes locked onto her. Chaewon stood just inside the door, shaking rain from her umbrella. She looked different—tired, maybe—but no less radiant. Her damp hair clung to her face, and her oversized sweater made her seem smaller than Y/N remembered.

Chaewon’s gaze swept over the room, and when their eyes met, her breath caught. For a moment, neither moved, the noise of the world around them fading into nothing.

Y/N’s heart raced, the sudden rush of emotions leaving her lightheaded. Should she wave? Smile? Say something?

Before she could decide, Chaewon stepped forward.

Chaewon approached slowly, her steps hesitant as if she were still deciding whether to stay or turn back. “Y/N,” she said softly when she was close enough to be heard.

Y/N set her mug down, her fingers trembling slightly. “Hi, Chaewon.”

It was such a small exchange, but the weight of it made Y/N’s chest tighten.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Chaewon asked, gesturing to the seat across from her.

“Of course,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chaewon slid into the chair, setting her umbrella against the table. They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

“You still come here?” Chaewon asked, her tone soft, almost hesitant.

“Sometimes,” Y/N admitted. “It’s… familiar.”

Chaewon nodded, her gaze dropping to the table. “I haven’t been here in a while.”

Y/N wanted to ask why, but she already knew the answer. This place held too much of them, their laughter and shared dreams woven into the fabric of the walls.

Their conversation began cautiously, like walking on fragile ice. They talked about the café, the rain, even the lattes. Safe topics. Neutral ground. But beneath the surface, the weight of everything left unsaid threatened to pull them under.

It was Y/N who finally broke the delicate balance.

“Chaewon,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I’ve missed you.”

Chaewon’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, and for a moment, Y/N saw every emotion Chaewon tried to hide—pain, longing, and something that looked dangerously like hope.

“I’ve missed you too,” Chaewon admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “More than I can put into words.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the honesty in her tone. “Then why?” she asked, the question escaping before she could stop it. “Why did you let me go?”

Chaewon looked away, her jaw tightening. “Because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to feel trapped in a relationship where I couldn’t give you everything you deserved.”

“I never felt trapped,” Y/N said softly. “I felt loved.”

Chaewon’s hands clenched into fists on the table. “I know,” she said after a long pause. “But I didn’t know how to balance everything. The group, the fans, my responsibilities… I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done is hurt you. Hurt myself.”

The rain outside grew heavier, the rhythmic tapping against the glass filling the silence that followed. Y/N stared at her hands, her mind racing.

“I’ve been struggling too,” she said finally, her voice shaky. “I keep wondering what I could’ve done differently, if I could’ve been more patient, more understanding.”

“You were more than enough,” Chaewon said quickly, her voice firm. “Y/N, don’t think for a second that this was your fault. It was me. I’m the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Y/N looked up at her, and for the first time in weeks, she saw the Chaewon she fell in love with—not the idol, not the leader, but the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve when she thought no one was looking.

“Then why does it still hurt so much?” Y/N asked, her voice cracking.

Chaewon reached across the table, her hand hovering over Y/N’s as if unsure whether she had the right to touch her. “Because we both care too much to let it go,” she said softly.

Y/N hesitated, then turned her hand over, letting Chaewon’s fingers intertwine with hers. The warmth of her touch was both familiar and foreign, a reminder of everything they’d shared and everything they’d lost.

The rain continued to fall, blurring the world outside the window. To Y/N, it felt like a reflection of her own heart—cleansing, yet heavy with the weight of the past.

Chaewon’s thumb brushed gently against the back of Y/N’s hand. “I don’t know if we can fix this,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her chest tightening with a mix of relief, sadness, and hope. She wanted to say yes, to take the leap and trust that they could find their way back to each other. But fear held her back. Fear of repeating the same mistakes, of reopening wounds that hadn’t yet healed.

“I don’t know if I can go through losing you again,” Y/N said quietly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You won’t,” Chaewon said, her voice steady despite the tears in her own eyes. “I won’t let that happen. Not this time.”

They sat there for what felt like hours, their hands clasped together, the rain outside a steady backdrop to their tentative reunion. The storm inside Y/N’s heart hadn’t cleared entirely, but for the first time in a long while, she felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

And for now, that was enough.

Eventually, the café grew quieter as the few remaining patrons began to leave. Chaewon glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at Y/N. “We should probably go,” she said softly, though her tone carried a reluctance to let the moment end.

Y/N nodded, her hand slipping from Chaewon’s as she reached for her coat. The warmth of their connection lingered, even as they gathered their things and headed for the door.

The rain had eased by the time they stepped outside, but the sky still hung heavy with gray clouds. A cool breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, carrying the faint scent of wet pavement. Y/N and Chaewon stood beneath the café awning, sharing a single umbrella.

For a moment, neither spoke. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the soft patter of rain and the faint hum of distant traffic.

Y/N shifted the umbrella slightly to shield Chaewon from the drizzle, her fingers brushing against Chaewon’s hand on the handle. The touch sent a familiar spark through her, a sensation she hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime.

“Do you want to walk for a bit?” Chaewon asked, her voice tentative.

Y/N nodded, and they began to move down the quiet street, the umbrella hovering between them like a fragile truce.

They walked in silence at first, the rhythm of their footsteps syncing as if they’d never been apart. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Chaewon from time to time, taking in the way her damp hair clung to her face, the way her shoulders hunched slightly against the cold.

It was all so familiar yet distant, like looking at an old photo through a foggy window.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again,” Chaewon said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, almost drowned out by the rain.

Y/N hesitated, her grip tightening on the umbrella. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to,” she admitted, her words heavier than she intended. “It hurt too much.”

Chaewon stopped walking, and Y/N paused a step ahead, turning to face her. Chaewon’s expression was open, vulnerable in a way Y/N hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I know,” Chaewon said. “I hurt you. And I’ve been hurting too.” She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. “I thought I was doing the right thing back then, letting you go. I thought it would make things easier for both of us.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “Did it?”

Chaewon shook her head, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Not even a little.”

They resumed walking, slower this time. Chaewon spoke again, her words hesitant. “I’ve thought about you every day, Y/N. Wondered if you were okay, if you hated me, if…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“If what?” Y/N prompted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“If you still cared.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in Chaewon’s tone. She stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “Of course I care,” she said, her voice trembling. “How could I not? You were everything to me.”

Chaewon looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “You still are to me,” she said softly.

The confession hung between them, heavy with meaning. Y/N’s breath caught, the weight of her emotions crashing down on her all at once.

“Chaewon…” she began, but she didn’t know how to finish.

Chaewon took a small step closer, her gaze searching Y/N’s. “I still love you,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. “I always have. But I won’t ask you to come back to me, not if you’re not ready. Not if you’re not sure.”

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The words she wanted to say were tangled in her throat, caught between her heart and her fear.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said finally, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can go through it again, Chaewon. I’m scared.”

Chaewon nodded, her expression filled with understanding. “I know. And I don’t want to hurt you again. But I also don’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what we could’ve been if we tried one more time.”

The clouds above them began to shift, a faint ray of sunlight breaking through the gray. It fell across the sidewalk, illuminating the rain-soaked world in a soft, golden glow.

Chaewon stepped back slightly, giving Y/N space. “I’ll leave the choice up to you,” she said quietly. “Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.”

Y/N watched her for a long moment, her heart warring with itself. Part of her wanted to reach out, to take Chaewon’s hand and hold on as tightly as she could. But another part of her—tired, cautious, and still nursing old wounds—held her back.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft rustling of the umbrella in the breeze.

Finally, Chaewon smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Y/N,” she said, her voice filled with quiet affection.

She turned and began to walk away, the umbrella no longer shielding her from the light drizzle.

Y/N stood there, clutching the handle of the umbrella, her fingers trembling. Her gaze fell to her other hand, where she had instinctively reached into her pocket and pulled out the bracelet Chaewon had given her so long ago. The delicate silver chain glinted in the faint sunlight, a tangible reminder of everything they’d shared.

She looked up again, watching as Chaewon’s figure grew smaller in the distance.

“If you…” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as the words trailed off.

She didn’t finish the thought, but it hung in the air, heavy with the possibility of a future yet unwritten.

[theoutcastrogue]

[From a 2014 article by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. He's talking about how a random spam email ended up inspiring a part of his book Wolf in White Van. Later, in 2020, the album Getting Into Knives came out, and I think it inspired its artwork too.]

"It took years for me to be able to just reflexively delete spam, or filter it so that I never see it at all. I blame the spammers for this; the quality of their work took a sharp nosedive at some point. But during whatever period of the internet’s growth you’d call the early 2000s, it seemed like you’d still get some winners: things that had been typed up by a person, sent out to a bunch of email addresses they’d bought or rented for 5 or 10 bucks from the only guy who was ever going to make any money in this particular exchange. Most of them went directly, if manually, into the trash; but once in a while, there’d be one that seemed to earn, at the very least, the minute it’d take me to read it.

The one I’m remembering here was subject-lined SUPPLY OF KNIVES. [...] The subject line opened on an all-caps email that boasted, in ornate, antiquated English appealing to the reader’s more refined sensibilities, about the high quality of the knives on offer at an external website. You shouldn’t click on links in spam email. I live my life on the razor’s edge! I clicked the link.

I want to tell you about these knives: They were beautiful. They were weird. They had elaborate designs in the handles, moons or stars of wolf heads, and special grips, and a variety of points. They were made from metals whose pedigrees were described lovingly, and had been struck — smithed? wrought? — via processes I knew absolutely nothing about, but that sounded fantastic, difficult, arcane. It’s the joy of specialized language: When you’re an outsider to it, it can’t help but sound cool.

Of course this is the whole idea of any operation like this. SUPPLY OF KNIVES could well have been, and probably was, a company in Ohio who’d stumbled across an old warehouse full of knives, and knew enough about sales to describe these things in the most exotic terms they could find. I’m pretty immune to pitches: Who likes to feel like he’s being pitched? But somebody involved with SUPPLY OF KNIVES had had just enough authorial flair — that, or true faith — to caption each knife’s mysterious, blurry accompanying JPEG with a description whose constant recourse to specialized vocabularies seemed to say, “You’re not even reading this unless you already know about this sort of thing. Let us therefore speak like the fellow travelers we are.”

It was like a trade catalog for roadside bandits in need of knives.

I can’t speak for everybody, but I know that when I was a child the life of the roadside bandit seemed like a pretty romantic way to go. I looked at all these knives and read the descriptions and was just generally delighted about the whole thing, so I saved the email in a “memorable spam” folder I used to keep that had maybe two other emails in it. A few years later, Apple came out with this robotic-arm-screen iMac you never see any more, and we were long overdue for a new computer so we got that; and then, after a while, I got myself a laptop, because I was traveling all the time, and eventually both the old iMacs ended up in the basement, and they were both asleep but alive until fairly recently, as far as I knew.

But when I went to check for the email, it was gone. The old blue iMac is dead, bricked, lifeless. Searches on the term “supply of knives” on this laptop and on good old robot-arm-screen find nothing. The backup CD for the blue iMac drive is probably in a drawer around here somewhere, but that’s like saying, “The coin I had in my swim trunks’ pocket is probably somewhere in the ocean.” There is no SUPPLY OF KNIVES. There’s only the memory."

[source]

And this is the wonderful cover art of Getting Into Knives. Back cover and promo material below. Note that "Knives International" and "Knives Wordwide" are not real companies, they appear to be a callback to that elusive spam email.

[gayofthefae]

Here it is. The Mike Wheeler Playlist Post.

So I finished it. What seems to be the end of season 4, at least. I am avoiding spoilers for myself. All 28 songs from Smalltown Boy to Mad World. Here is what I have deduced:

Mike got over El after she left and started liking Will, but when she came back, he got with her motivated by the grief of “what could have been” but once they got together he felt that the relationship was aimless, only staying because it was familiar. He pursued getting back together with her because he didn’t want to lose her, despite feeling that the spark wasn’t there anymore. His fight with Will makes him question their relationship again but he ultimately doesn’t believe Will reciprocates and regrets even going back down that path. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when Will moves. He can’t get Will out of his head and, though secrecy is the only safe thing, he’s getting worn down with it and is increasingly considering taking action in his relationship with El because his feelings for Will make him happy and don’t seem to be going anywhere. He’s getting anxious as it gets closer but Will talking to him in the van gives him a lot of security, but then the moment comes and he lies and feels absolutely horrible about it. He feels like he’s just running in circles. More inaction. Over a year now of just inaction.

There are 19 songs left which feels like a lot for one season as I've said before but in defense of that on top of just the consistent alignment with plot points in the playlist this far, season 5 is going to go back in and reveal a lot of this stuff with some very complicated emotions and much more focus on him, his feelings, his trauma, and his overall relationship with Will. So there IS a lot there to fill songs with. If you would like to read my original semi-chaotic notes from the past 5 hours(you read that correctly. You're welcome. And yes I know the full playlist I didn't even finish is only 3.5 hours) listed by song and including bits I skipped over so that it wouldn't be horribly long, lyric quotes, and one link to a cover analysis, you can do so under the cut.

Scared closeted gay kid in a smalltown in the 80s (confirmed by the songwriter, widely known in this fandom)

He sees Will everywhere.

This girl’s really cool and knows about things I don’t

Alien abduction - ET Parallels.

This song is an instrumental but the title “In The Face of Evil” is self-explanatory

El heroically sacrificed herself for everyone. She is a hero because she is the type of person to make that choice.*sweet that his love isn't hero worship, that's just how he conveys it.

He’s haunted by the memories of El, seeing her face everywhere.

Over time, “absence makes the heart lose weight” and his feelings for her fade

He’s starting to experience a new and scarily tempting, intoxicating kind of love. (based on context…for Will)

This song is an instrumental but the title is “Beta Girl Lost in Forever”. There is a great cover art analysis by @digestionsack at #20 of the post linked here but I could not find anything on the original meaning of the song or album. I couldn't find like anything else on Google of this one's meaning there were under 300 results when I searched in quotes.

This song is a duet that looks back on the relationship of a boy who helped lift up a girl from a very low and helpless place but the girl is now gone and he wants her to need him again and a girl who always had ambitions not dependent on him from the start and appreciated the time they spent together but needed independence now.

He feels an uncontrollable love that’s taking all his focus that he “can’t shake” but “makes [him] feel so blue” (for Will given the last love song)*this is to say nothing of his self awareness. (though could have convinced himself he got over it as opposed to never having known? *consistent with the s3 fight words)

A song about teenage love. Kinda horny.*He's in love and a little bit horny in the season checks notes...without El?

It’s “Ghostbusters”. It makes sense in a literal context but for the record this song is actually very 80s-under the radar-horny like “Barbie Girl”. Probably literal in this case but I’m sure the Duffers know about the second meaning and so maybe it shouldn’t be put right after Teenage Kicks if they aren’t trying to make me at least consider the possibility that they’re meaning to say Mike is jerking off to Will, possibly while he’s possessed. I didn’t need that, Pete Duffer. (Although 13-year-old boys definitely do. I remember the back of the bus conversations on middle school jazz band trips. I'm all for openness and sex education but I know too much about your masturbatory habits, Ben.)

El comes back and he reflects on how their relationship ended so suddenly and she branched out into independence but now that she’s back he’s not gonna let her get away again.*seems like he wants to fix the past vs take action in the present. What could have been. Acting on behalf of his past self.

Their relationship feels aimless to him, but he stays because it’s familiar. “I’ll carry on with what I know”.*her dumping HIM was an important push for him.

Making mistakes is human and a natural part of relationships. He stays in the relationship despite the spark dying out of a larger, more general love for her and because he doesn’t want to lose her. “If not so in love, it’s not so wrong, we’re only human after all.”*feeling an obligation to get her back because while not dating, she's gone completely (at first)?

He left Will/his feelings for him behind but he’s reminded of them by their fight (“little deals and S.U’s”) and he questions the nature of their relationship again but he doesn’t think that it means to Will what it means to him. “A sly touch at times; I don’t think it meant anything to you”. He regrets even going down that road again. “And I should never have tried”.

He’s going to miss them when they move, seeming to specify Will with “seven years went under the bridge”. He doesn’t know what to do without him now.*this song might sort of also explain why he didn't call if he didn't but it's not sure and there are no other songs about it, so he still could have called("if you leave don't look back, I'll be running the other way" but not every lyric has to apply and it could mean something else)

He’s now set/stuck in his desire for Will and can’t get him out of his head. (I considered an angle of this being for El, but the constant thinking about the lover + the interpretation of unreciprocated a love/a pursuit didn’t fit)*one of the interpretations I read also said they think it's about a gay guy which is a great addition, though not an "official" interpretation.

He feels safest in isolation/secrecy (car=closet?) “It’s the only way to live” but he’s wearing down and feeling lonely/alone in this state so he’s starting to consider “leaving” it.

He definitely still has feelings for Will that don’t seem to be going anywhere. They’re kinda…baffling “You got me so I don’t know what I’m doing”. He’s losing sleep over them. But…he’s not mad at it “don’t ever set me free”.

He criticizes himself for his inaction and starts to seriously think about making decisions for himself.

He’s in love. (very simple lyrics: “I saw your eyes, and for a little while/though it took a while, I was falling in love” repeatedly with minor variation)

He’s worn and broken down but still wants love. He’s holding onto Will in the chaos of his mind and the world and trying to keep out of preying eyes. Also it is apparently written as tribute to Stranger Things after season 1, which is cute. “Just stay close” “You can’t stop this feeling.” “They won’t pull us down”. This song is also called “Vale of Shadows”.

Instrumental Synth called “Dead of Night”

He’s full of uncertainty as seeing El gets closer but Will talking to him in the van comforts him and gives him more security; Will’s love makes it all better. “And she pulling the strings” definitely fits this idea of the situation with Will (especially if he is aware)

He feels horrible about lying to El (The song is “Mad World”). He feels like he’s just ���run[ning] in circles”.

Notable lyrics: 

[pre-season 2-season 2]

When Love Breaks Down "Absence makes the heart lose weight yeah, til love breaks down, til love breaks down" "When love breaks down, the things you do to stop the truth from hurting you. When love breaks down, the lies we tell, they only serve to fool ourselves." I really thought it would say “grow fonder”, which fit and was cute and I was fine with, but nope. And my jaw went slack and it made me want to write this whole thing.

Love is a Stranger "Love is a stranger in an open car to tempt you in and drive you far away." "Love is a dangerous drug. You have to receive it and you still can't get enough of the stuff." "Comes in like the flood and it seems like religion" "And I want you so, it's an obsession. It's guilt edged."

[season 3]

Something About You “If not so in love, it’s not so wrong. We’re only human, after all.”

Are ‘Friends’ Electric “A sly touch at times. I don’t think it meant anything to you.” “And I never should have tried.” “For you see, it meant everything to me.”

[season 4, volume 2]

Mad World “When people run in circles, it’s a very, very mad world.”

[griancraft]

Ok as per my last post. This is Long and very much about my feelings so uh don’t read it if you don’t want to. Also I’m aware I sound genujneky crazy for half of this I’m just really really mentally ill in ways I don’t talk about here at all and now I am sharing them and it’s. A little scary but oh well. The system stuff is the stuff I’m most concerned about right now to be honest bc it effects my day to day and if anyone has any kind words or thoughts on what to do I’ll be happy to listen

Please read my previous post if you’re mad /gen I don’t think I say anything bad here but I have really bad morality ocd so like uhm I am scared to post this!!! Prev post

Also I’m very sorry that the prose is terrible to read and my spelling is shit I have dyspraxia which is a coordination thing and it’s worse rn

The maybe I was boring album came on yesterday while I was cleaning and I had to stop what I was doing and turn it off halfway through because I just couldn’t stop hearing an admission. I wasn’t even sad I was just. So done with it. I still am just kinda like. God I hope Shelby is doing ok with all this being public now. I’m glad she was able to heal like she said and I’m glad she made the video dude.

I almost got his lyrics tattooed if that’s testament to how much I loved his early music. It’s not connecting in my brain that this music that’s been apart of my life for like 4 years and helped me through so much was made by an abuser.

But like, in retrospect you can see it. I can’t bear to delete ycgma off my mp3 player bc I related to his songs so much as an abused lonely teenager but I also can’t bare to listen to it. I learned the fall on my guitar as my final exam and I used to repeat his lyrics to myself to cope with abuse and I wish I could still love these songs. I dressed like his dsmp character bc I thought it made me look cool. Which is lame as fuck to admit now lol

Originally I was planning on pirating them and I like, can’t especially after that manipulative ass statement. How much was an act? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m a bad person because I still kinda do want to listen to that music again. I still want to feel that safe but I know I won’t feel that way anymore.

with dsmp stuff I think I’m going to be still able to look back fondly on it generally and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. The community was what made it and the community is what I loved, and i still do. I don’t think I’m going to reblog art of him specifically but if he’s in it I might. Idk. My policy on dream fanart is if he’s not alone in the art and it’s dsmp or mcc related I reblog so I guess I’ll continue that here. Im sorry if that sounds callous I just. Am not prepared to talk about this so I’m going back and forth

And like. We also have a wilbur factive/fictive and we have for years now and nobody in our system knows how to feel about that. He formed to fill the role of a big brother (I was being heavily emotionally neglected at that point and needed someone to be there for me) and protector from my parents abuse. Obviously, he is entirely separate from his source now bc alters change a lot for me but how we picture him is still wilbur. he’s literally just some guy now but grappling with that connection is fucked up dude it’s weird. He’ll probably further distance himself but it still fucking sucks and I don’t know how to communicate the cognitive dissonance we had to push through bc our brain struggled at first to make sense of how this person who we liked so much that he became the template for a Protector to shield us from the emotional neglect and abuse, essentially, is a terrible person. I’m sorry I know people who aren’t systems, and some who are ngl, will find this fuckibg nuts and I get that but we’re a very very internal person like I just. Kinda am with us as a system a lot and nobody else. It feels like my safe space that I’ve created in my head has been marred. Also. uhm. Our alters speak in distinct voices so it’s bad bad for me rn and we are trying to fix it. I know I know fictives and factives arenttheir source but that doesn’t change that it makes me feel gross. I’m rambling rn I’m sorry. Support Shelby.

[lurk1ng-s1d]

IM LOSING IT RAHHGGG

BRO I LITERALLY CANT TAKE IT IM SO EXCITED RN- SO,, i’ve been taking a break from consuming ghost content cause they’re on a break while tobias works on a new album (RAHFBHGBF NEW ALBUM) which i’m SO EXCITED ABOUT- and so this way i’m not missing out on too too much stuff because i FLIP every single time i even think about anything having to do with them and it gets to the point where i can’t focus on ANYTHING ELSE so sometimes distancing myself from it slightly helps me especially with things like school :3

BUT RECENTLY (LIKE TODAY RECENTLY) i dove back into my old procreate canvases AND I FOUND MY ART OF MY FAVORITE GHOUL OC… and listen to me when i tell you that i have this SO THOUGHT OUT. i have a whole. notebook. FILLED with headcanons and ideas for how lore could logically work. AND I CANNOT BREATHE RIGHT NOW. IM FREAKING OUT I PUSHED IT ALL SO FAR OUT OF MY MINDDDD TO GIVE MYSELF A BREAK BUT. ITS SO COOL I CANT ANYMORE.

IM WORKING ON A PIECE FROM A HEADCANON RITUAL THING I HAD COME UP PLAYING AROUND WITH THE IDEA THAT PERHAPS A GHOUL COULD BE CREATED RATHER THAN JUST SUMMONED- AND IT IS LOOKING SOOOO GOOD

[godesssiri]

Thrifting Philosophies 3

Psychometry is real.

Ok maybe it’s not, maybe it’s para-psychological mumbo jumbo. Psychometry is also known as object reading, practiced by psychics, it’s the belief that we leave impressions of ourselves in physical objects. All I know is I once bought home a very old straw-stuffed toy dog and my house felt incredibly happy for days, like his previous owner was thrilled he had a new person who would love him, like he’d been hugged and loved and treasured for so many years that he just exuded happiness. And this dog is easily over 100 years old, you’d expect him to smell dusty, but he smells like a summer hay meadow, I have no idea how that smell has survived so long – he’s a treasure. I've had him nearly 10 years and still occasionally give him a cuddle and breath in a lungful of that summer meadow scent and just feel happy.

I love old objects because they feel good in my home. They add depth and weight and gravity and history and whimsy and joy. When you hold something old you can’t help but wonder who owned it before you? Whose hands has it passed through to get to yours? It’s so cool finding out a bit of backstory about second hand objects. I love nothing more than to buy something from a thrift store and come home and research it and I get such a buzz when I find out the history of an object. I have so much trouble passing up an item that has a note on the base about the person who previously owned it, or a dedication or inscription. I have a stunning antique book about the life of Dr Livingstone (As in: Dr Livingstone I presume?) that was compiled after his death, and the thing that makes it even more special is that there is a newspaper cutting glued inside the back cover from the obituary of his last surviving child in 1889. I love to imagine the first or second owner of that book coming across that obituary and thinking ‘I should stick that in my book about his father for posterity’.  I have an ink drawing of a snake skeleton in a box, it’s so intricately detailed it looks 3D, every rib is detailed and has a shadow beneath it, it must have taken so long to draw, I love to try and put myself in the headspace of the artist because they must have been completely in the zone. I have a trench art vase with Tobruk Libya Jan 44 SAAF engraved on it. In late 43 a lot of Allied troops were captured in the region of Tobruk and they were liberated by the South Africans in Jan 44, I imagine one of the liberated NZ troops bought that vase home as a memento of the South African Air Force who helped save him. I love to extrapolate the stories of items I find in thrift stores, to think about the person that made that thing or who owned and treasured that item.

I also have A LOT of family heirlooms. I am The One Who Can Be Trusted With Heirlooms in my family. I’ve gotten many of them just because I put my hand up and said ’can I have that?’.  AND I’ve actively saved many heirlooms. I’m the one who found my great uncle's Buffalo Lodge certificate scrunched at the bottom of a box and framed it. The one who striped gross old varnish off the Edwardian pot cupboard my great-gran bought at auction in the 40s and gave it it’s first oil in probably 100 years. The one who refused to let my grandad get rid of (and instead absconded with) the carved wooden elephant that his friend bought back from Malaysia after WW2, when he was downsizing. The one who picked through the box of photo albums and framed photos that the fire department inspector grabbed for us before condemning my great aunts house after it burned down and salvaged whatever could be saved. I’m child free but I have my eye on my cousin’s children, trying to pick who in the next gen will have a love of vintage and antique. If none of them will love these treasures then I’ll make sure they go to other people who will love them and I will pass along the stories that go with them. When you own vintage/antiques you become a custodian of an item that had a life before you and will have a life after you. You are a link in the chain connecting past to future and that connection feels very special.

My previous thrifting post

[mywifeleftme]

210: Leslie Winer // If I Hit You—You’ll Feel It

If I Hit You—You’ll Feel It Leslie Winer 2021, Light in the Attic

There’s an exchange at the end of the otherwise useful booklet packaged with Light in the Attic’s career-spanning Leslie Winer compilation that ranks among the most embarrassing moments for music journalism in recent memory. After providing helpful context on Winer’s groundbreaking but obscure dub/trip-hop project ©, British journalist Wyndham Wallace tracks the reclusive artist and ex-supermodel down at her home in the French countryside for a wide-ranging interview about her life and times. Then this happens:

In bed that night, beneath the blue twilight of a frosted skylight, I’d reflected upon our conversations as I struggled to sleep. I was still secretly thrilled that—thanks to an improbably inadvertent meeting a decade earlier, at the memorial for another similarly reclusive musical pioneer—I’d finally come to learn the full story of the woman whose music had first bewitched me over a quarter century ago. I began shaping her life’s narrative in my mind, wrestling with words, trying to come up with a pithy reason why I found her so compelling. In the end, only one term felt appropriate, and even that was woefully insufficient. From my mouth, at least, it seemed ridiculous. But then I imagined how it would sound if she said it. So, as we wind things up, I ask if she’s got time for one more question. “Sure,” she answers cheerfully. “How would you respond,” I say, “to the idea of someone describing you as ‘badass’?” There’s a pause. A long pause. “I don’t even really know what that means,” she finally replies, shaking her head quietly, her face betraying confusion and, in all honesty, what might be a hint of sadness. “Badass: it’s just a… I don’t really know. It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s so overused. Laden.” I’d not expected her to willingly embrace the description. Nevertheless, I’d thought she might see it as a compliment. I decide to elaborate on my definition. “To me,” I say, “a ‘badass’ is someone who doesn’t take any shit, who tells it like it is, then gets on and does things their way.” “Yeah,” Winer drawls, but then she falls silent again. “I don’t just mean in your life,” I add. “I also mean in your art.” Outside, the snow has ceased, and the clouds, the clouds are like dirty cotton. “You’ve got to be good at it,” I persist. “You’ve got to be good to be badass.” At last the ‘endurer’ nods, almost to herself. “Yeah,” she says slowly. “Yeah, well I didn’t have any other choice. Because, you know, I can’t imagine being any other way. What was I going to do? Dumbass lying?” No, I think to myself. You were never going to do that. But when you hit me, I feel it.

Then he signs his fucking name! That’s now it ends! Look, sometimes you make a fool of yourself when you get a chance to talk to your heroes. It’s a totally normal, human reaction. But how blinkered do you have to be to make it your 22-page article’s kicker, to exactingly document that interaction like it somehow gets to the obscure core of the artist’s life that you’ve been driving towards, instead of as the moment you succeeded in pulling your own underwear over your forehead before you were broomed out of her chateau at the earliest possible opening? Imagine, months after the fact, being so hornily fixated on having gotten this woman to say the Pinterest word you jammed into her mouth that it still seems like a good idea to include it. “Nailed it,” you say under your breath, having girlbossified a serious artist in the grimmest battle of attrition the French countryside has seen since the Somme.

Great compilation though! Thanks to her striking appearance and what seems to have been an inborn Coolness, Winer infiltrated the fashion and art world of 1980s New York and London as a teen, becoming a highly sought-after model before making her way into the record business. Under the name ©, she recorded her first solo album Witch in 1990, though it would be three years before the full LP would see release. In the meantime, a few white label singles circulated in the London DJ scene, making them some of the earliest examples of what would later be known as trip-hop to hit the circuit.

Winer had an art school background, and she brought an intuitive, experimental sensibility to the recording process, crafting echoing, dubby beats out of digitally chopped samples and analog contributions by friends, including ex-Public Image Ltd. bassist Jah Wobble and members of an abortive previous project called Max. Over these innovative soundscapes, Winer holds forth with a stream of spoken word poetry, flashes of repeated concrete details intercut with abstract musings, influenced by her Beat mentors William S. Burroughs and Herbert Huncke and delivered with a Lydia Lunch-style sneer:

The clouds were moving across the sky Filling up with rain Some damn basketball game You can hear the thunder start to say You had to be there, if you know what I mean Old lady Santa Claus screaming at the Kennedys You just hold that thought.

As noted, it took ages for Witch to come out (to limited but intense acclaim), and while she recorded here and there throughout the ‘90s little of it made much impact outside a small cult of critics and collaborators. Eventually, the pressures of kicking a heroin habit and caring for five children as a single mother forced music onto the backburner until a period of renewed activity in the 2010s. If I Hit You—You’ll Feel It is the first collection to span her entire career, including a few previously unreleased cuts, and it shows she continued to find new ways to dismantle and rebuild her style as she aged. “Tree” (recorded in 1996 but unreleased till 2012) combines mandolin, loops assembled from traditional Irish folk recordings, and a light-stepping breakbeat; the previously unreleased “Fragment #2,” recorded with Mari G. Mooney in 2015, is near-ambient, little more than an unsteady beat pattern and a single, sparkly decaying note around her hoarse murmur. Always reliable for an acidly quotable line (“I’ve got a couple of drops of Indian blood / Mostly on my hands”; “I’ve seen you in some stupid fucking outfits in my time / But that one takes the prize”) and a surly gravitas, I will say this in poor journo Wyndham Wallace’s defence: if I met Winer, I’m sure I’d act like a total fucking dork too.

210/365

[alma-amentet]

I’ve been tagged by @katastronoot and @sheirukitriesfandom

Feel free to take if you haven’t been tagged already.

1) Describe one creative WIP project you’re planning to work on over the summer.

Just a few days ago I decided to pull myself together and finish my drafts, debts and references queue. There’s a number of tabs with refs hanging in my browser... Need to get rid of them! Then I’ll also finish some tutorials from my previous lessons as well as rewatch the ones I already did, just to get back in shape. And will probably dive into some other courses - I have some good videos.

Was thinking about making some doll, clothes after a long break. My drunk shepherdess needs this, as I changed my mind to sell her away! (she’s another story). And a bag for my favorite tarot deck, now I use the the bag I made for another one, while that another one rests in a bag that once was part of friend’s Christmas present.

The rest is optional for now, but I hope to start drawing more portraits again. Maybe, by the end of the year I’ll be taking requests and trades for your OCs and favorite characters... That would be super cool.

I wanted to start attending my IRL art class again, but looks like I won’t be able to afford it 😢 Sadly I’m not making much money these days, and there are some unexpected expences.

2) Rec a book!

Tanith Lee, The Night’s Master. I think Elden Ring fans will appreciate 😉 Made a post about it a while ago.

I also liked The Winter Players - finally, a good and strong female protagonist! Not evil, unlike Zorayas - the one from the Night’s Master 😉

3) Rec a fic!

False Azure in the Windowpane by Tulak_Hord

If you don’t mind het Malenia ship. I don’t because it has a lot of fluff and an interesting Tarnished. I loved the first 55k words, excluding the chapter where they sparred (for me, that felt too long and boring). But I keep reading it.

Also Flamed Aeonia by BadMonsterFr  

This one has fem shipping, also a lot of hurt/comfort and fluff - just the way I like it! 

I love Malenia fluff. So more Malenia fluff pls! If you can rec me anything else like this, you're welcome! (yes I know and love Unalloyed, esp. the epilogue. It’s somewhat different, more on Millicent and Miquella, but just my vibes as well).

(also I’m really sorry for not reading some of fandom’s buddies works, I do - I’d like to support you more ... started some of them, but couldn’t keep up. I’m a bad and slow reader, and prefer smaller sizes to long ongoings. There are just two long ongoings I'm reading, False Azure and Rebecca's, because they are updated not really often).

4) Rec Music!

I’m on my Breton and Francophone folk kick again, so I recommend 

- La Boutine Souriante, folk-rock from Quebec (so far I’m listyening to their earliest albums, but they’ve been around since 70s and have many albums)

- Tri Yann. Modern Breton classics, I’d say! Love those old men who are still fit and well.

5)Share one piece of advice!

I agree with @vidvana Take care of yourself! Also don’t skip meals, get enough sleep. And if you feel you’d use some support, seek it any ways. If you can’t afford therapy or anything, there’s plenty of books and resources. Sometimes it’s even easier to help yourself than to find help. I’m quite experienced in self-help, I know what I’m talking about. 

For me, Julia Cameron’s “The Artists’s Way” has become that single straw I grasped in my darkest times, and it actually helped greatly! I also used her list of further reading and quotes, thus finding Shakti Gauvain, whose books are inspiring and supportive as well. Later I was a moderator for several groups for the Asrtists’Way. Not an easy experience, but it taught me something as well.

But if there’s a chance of any therapy, groups, any other support, don’t give it up as well.

[walkingphotos]

Most Decidedly NOT A Walking Photo: Greetings. Clearly I haven’t been walking or shooting photos, and I can’t completely explain it. It’s like a switch was flipped or something, and I really need to flip it back…for so many reasons.

But at least I haven’t been completely idle. Over the last year or so I’ve been working on an album of my original songs, and as you can see, it has become a real enough thing that it has Actual Cover Art. In fact, it’s so dang real that I’m currently taking pre-orders for the thing here – even if you’re not up for pre-ordering, you might find the page interesting because it gives some background on the project and you can watch me yammer on about it if you’re so inclined (not for the faint of heart…or the time-constrained).

I’m very proud of this creation, which will officially release in mid-April. It features 11 songs I wrote myself and one that I co-wrote with a Grammy-winning songwriter, plus it boasts a cavalcade of pretty cool guest artists who gave in to my cajoling and pleading and came into the studio (one of them remotely from Norway!) to add their talents to the proceedings.

I’d love it if you took a look at the pre-order page, and at the rest of my site while you’re at it. I’d love it even more if you decided to actually place an order – it’ll help with my mountain of production costs – but of course there is absolutely no pressure. I just wanted to show you what I’ve been up to. Questions, feedback, etc. are all welcome.

If you’re reading this, thank you and I hope you’ve been doing well.

[daisyknife]

That's so cool, to have classical guitar training! I went through a phase where I was kinda obsessed with Spanish style guitar, and someday I really want to take lessons in it, it's so beautiful! If you're familiar with the 70s folk singer Al Stewart, he's got a song called "End of the Day", and one of my long-term goals is learning how to play it 😂 (A looooooong way off from that goal!) I feel you about sheet music too, I'm the same way with piano. It takes forever to learn a song, but once it's in the muscle memory, it's there for good. I think there's a lot of advantages to that style of learning music! It's nice being able to rely on songs you know. It's like I've had a long relationship with some of them 😂

Wow, I can imagine that you learned a lot from Horizons, what a beautiful song! And I loved that Keith Emerson anecdote 🥺 he's a big hero of mine, really, so humble about his music! (Which was a bit shocking to realize, since ELP is such a bombastic band!) Do you have a favorite ELP song?

I'm glad, it's really an incredible song! And that's a fantastic way to write music — recently I found a video that was described as Paul McCartney playing an early version of "I Will," and it seems like he'd just been toying around with some Frank Sinatra songs, and seeing what he could shake out of them! 😂 Really cool stuff!

No worries at all lol, sometimes you have to wait for the right moment to listen to something new... the mood isn't always there, and I think it's best to engage with art when you're ready for it, I suppose! (Or maybe I just tell myself that because I know I've got a list of 200 albums I need to listen to and 1,000,000 films I should watch LOL)

I had never heard of Al Stewart before but “End Of the day” truly is a gem! And yes, classical is hard but so rewarding :) Also I think having a bunch of songs that you always keep at your fingertips is a great feeling, you always have something to fall back on to keep you moving musically, technically and even emotionally (like you said, after many years you can’t help but grow extremely attache dot some of them!).

Absolutely, Horizons is probably my favourite piece of music I’ve ever learned and it did really shape me as a musician. It taught me to persevere, to work through (and sometimes around hehe) tough passages, to be expressive and also be faithful to the original. And also to just accept that sometimes you have to play the same five notes over and over again for hours and there’s no other way 😅 Keith Emerson really was a giant, I also deeply admire him. I think my favourite ELP song might be either “Take a Pebble” or “Trilogy” but there are so many others I love that I can’t not at least mention (“From The Beginning”, “Tarkus”, “The Sage”). What are your favourite ELP songs?

Ooo I need to look that video up! Coincidentally I’m going to see a small local kids orchestra play Frank Sinatra classics tomorrow night, my sister’s boyfriend’s nephew is playing (I don’t remember what instrument lol). Not too relevant I guess, my brain just likes seeing connections and patterns regardless of how inconsequential they are 😅😅😅

I completely agree with you, 100% (might be because I’m in exactly the same situation… ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶s̶t̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶J̶o̶n̶i̶ ̶M̶i̶t̶c̶h̶e̶l̶l 🫣). We will get to it when the Universe wants us to (or something🤣).

[rabbitechoes]

every month I'm gonna try to post reviews of three albums from years past!! this week i wrote about a misanthropic indie rock gem from the 2000s: Insignificance by Jim O'Rourke!!! also feel free to follow me on rate your music and twitter <3

Insignificance - Jim O'Rourke

◇ release date: Nov. 19, 2001 ◇ genres: indie rock, singer-songwriter, art rock

Jim O’Rourke is one of the most subtly prolific musicians of the last three decades. From his litany of experimental projects in the drone and ambient fields, to his mixing/production credits on various acclaimed records (namely Ys and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot), to his tenure in Sonic Youth, and to his comparatively accessible projects on the Drag City label, O’Rourke is one busy bee! Despite O’Rourke’s often experimental output, I find myself most enamored with the albums he did for Drag City. On the surface they sound more “normal,” but a closer look reveals that isn’t quite the case. You might get fooled by Insignificance and think it sounds like your standard indie rock album, but it’s so much more than that. It has some of the most incredible musicianship across the entire genre. O’Rourke makes use of uncommon time signatures, densely layered arrangements, and a variety of different influences which makes this album stand out so much from the other records in the genre. Even when trying to “tone it down,” O’Rourke can’t help but flex just how skillful he is. 

Another thing that sets this record, and a lot of the other Drag City projects he made, apart is his lyricism. He’s so funny, but he plays it so seriously. His dark, misanthropic humor juxtaposes both the music and the album’s art direction in such a cool way. My favorite example of this is in the song “Memory Lame” which has O’Rourke remarking “Looking at you reminds me of looking at the sun / And how the blind are so damn lucky.” Spiteful, vengeful lyrics that would make Morrissey blush. The difference is, even with the venomous words, you take it very lightly. They’re so cartoonishly cruel that you just kind of laugh it off. This record is so perfectly crafted, but O’Rourke never veers into pretension. He doesn’t take himself too seriously and he often comes off as the butt of the joke across most of the album.

 Jim O'Rourke

“All Downhill from Here” kicks things off with a bang with some loud, booming guitar and drums before things settle down into the chorus. In the verses, O’Rourke laments that he knows he’s insincere and that he wants to sink his own boat. In between the second and third verses, the song briefly ditches the harsh guitar and segues perfectly into this gorgeous acoustic-driven detour. A great example of his talents as an arranger. As is the title track that follows it. The instrumentation here takes heavy inspiration from Brian Wilson, but he also blends in his warm folky guitar style to make it his own. His vocals here, and across most of the album, are so lackadaisical. He sells every downtrodden thing he says so well. The chorus is truly where that influence from Wilson shows, taking things in a more chamber pop direction. “Memory Lame” isn’t just one of my favorite examples of O’Rourke’s lyrical abilities, but it’s also probably my favorite arrangement across the whole album. It’s a very guitar-oriented track. The lead-in to the verses is just so gorgeous. It sounds like walking outside on a Spring day with perfect weather and birds flying overhead. The verses have this understated acoustic guitar riff that gets frequently cut off by this booming electric guitar riff. The way they interplay with each other is so cool. I also adore the plodding acoustic guitar riffs between the verses. The outro focuses mainly on the acoustic, but puts more emphasis on the drums and even brings in some cornet as well. It’s just such a well-crafted song. Jeff Tweedy, one of O’Rourke’s frequent collaborators, plays guitar on the track (not sure which one, maybe both?) and they work so incredibly well together.

The album’s streak of brilliance continues all the way to the end. A lot of the arrangements at this point are so much more stripped back and tasteful. His lyricism remains as sharp as ever though. “Good Times” has O’Rourke sounding very pathetic in a good way. He croons “I may act like a bombardier / But don’t be fooled, cause my aim is off.” The concept of “Get a Room” is so funny to me. The narrator has one night left to live so he takes a girl home only for her to fall asleep before anything can happen. “Life Goes Off” closes the album on an incredibly strong note and has O’Rourke seemingly singing about dying in assless chaps (at least that’s how I interpret it). The instrumentation has some country flair with that pedal steel guitar, it’s really beautiful. However, that beauty is cut short by the wave of harsh noise that carries on through the end of the record. Scared the hell out of me on my first listen.

Jim O'Rourke

Insignificance is one of my favorite indie rock records of the 2000s. I think it’s one of O’Rourke’s strongest achievements. Perhaps his best work as a solo artist, although I still need to dive into his experimental work. I fall in love with it more and more after every listen, as I also do with both Eureka and the Halfway to a Threeway EP before this. I might end up reviewing those records at some point as well. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ thanks for reading :3

[girlreviews]

Review #485: Continuum, John Mayer

The thing you need to know first about my listening to this album is that I truly have never heard it, or any songs on it, ever. John Mayer was really not a mainstream thing in the UK where I grew up and any releases of new music from him happened without anyone on that little island being particularly aware of it, with a few exceptions here and there. So please imagine how weird that is when the opening track is, apparently, one of those ones that is so overplayed and recognizable in American culture that is provokes a visceral and physical response in people. But not me. I thought it was fine.

I actually hoped to like this album, because unfortunately for me, John Mayer’s “Sob Rock”, I genuinely believe has not yet had it’s day, and it’s one of the better works of art to be put out in the last decade. It was smart, conceptual, beautiful, serious and unserious and just really fucking good man. Whenever the question of what to listen to cannot be answered, the answer is Sob Rock. AND EVEN THAT has a banished song on it, because he can’t fucking help himself. John. It was 2021. It was following a year of reckoning for us all. And you thought it was funny or cool to put a track on there and unironically call it “Why You No Love Me”. Get the fuck out of here John. You’re honestly lucky the rest of it is good enough that I will tolerate this being on there at all. And it’s terrible. Get help. Get therapy. Get a lobotomy. Whoever she is, stay away from her.

I reasonably expected that this would be as good as that in a different way if it made its way to the Rolling Stone’s Top 500, but, I don’t get it. I really sat and asked myself what the appeal is for a good long while too.

There are some, SOME, like THREE tracks that I think are pretty decent songs. They’re interesting. They have depth. The rest of it is coffee house music or a guy who is trying really hard to convince you he’s a deep, romantic, misunderstood thinker. And I’m not picking up what he’s putting down. You’re a fraud my guy, I can feel it in these songs. They’re shallow. They’re a performance. But not in a good way.

This is the same John Mayer that proudly expressed in an interview (with Rolling Stone!) “My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I've got a Benetton heart and a fuckin' David Duke cock. I'm going to start dating separately from my dick."

Yeah, so I don’t think we are going to be reading into any of these soft boy coffee house Nora Ephron “missing each other” montage soundtrack vibes (listen to “Gravity” and tell me you can’t just see Meg Ryan drawing her curtains closed lamenting why Tom Hanks or Billy Crystal hasn’t called or emailed yet).

So look, it’s barreling towards mediocrity on all fronts, it’s especially full of shit conceptually, and I just think he needs to leave this kind of thing to Norah Jones, who isn’t really my cup of tea either but she’s not out there using the n-word in interviews, name-dropping David Duke, referring to past girlfriends as “sexual napalm”, or dating girls more than ten years younger than him that are barely adults. Just shut the fuck up John. If you’re not going to make something self deprecating that at least acknowledges what a garbage guy you are, then I’m not gonna be able to hear anything in it that’s good. That’s why Sob Rock works, you know that, right John? Cus you’re kind of a garbage guy and you’re kind of self aware in it. You’re in your forties now and this shit was never cute but I can promise you it’s just ugly now.

Honestly, I have no idea why this is critically acclaimed and the only thing I’ve got is that he is generally revered to be a prodigy of sorts on the old axe, is appreciated by his (male) peers for this, toured with the Grateful Dead etc, and this guitar is incorporated into this dull droll coffee house music. Here’s my response: so what?

Last thing on this. I once listened to Sob Rock for the bazillionth time, but I was laying in bed with it playing through my projector. I was very high. Spotify did that annoying thing it does where it puts a short animation up with the music and it was just giant on my wall. All I can say is that the vibe was ruined by John Mayer’s massive and disturbing lips. This is the duality of separating the art from the artist. Sometimes we love an album and we hate that we love it because they are such a dick and have weird lips that freak you out. If John Mayer was walking towards me on the street I would recoil in horror and run the opposite direction because his lips strike a primal fear deep in my heart. Is it rational? No. Is it true? Yes.

I listened to Continuum a second time to be thorough but it’s not gonna get a third go. But I will start a letter writing campaign insisting that the next iteration of the top 500 replace Continuum with Sob Rock and I’m pretty serious about that. My brain can’t make sense of this being better than that. I would say I’d die on that hill but I ain’t dying on no hill for this fool.

[windowedsill]

Disorganized: 2022

Thoughts on the year

Disorganized: 2022

I always get sentimental at the end of the year. Come the end of December, I start gathering the previous months into collective parts. I revisit the art I experienced, the media I consumed. Ask: “which affected me most harshly?” “Which do I like?” “What stayed with me?” “What did I forget?” I’m still in college, so the beginning of winter is an ostensibly relaxing period where I still have time to do this. 

It starts at the beginning of December when I make my annual Spotify “Favorites 20xx” playlist, archiving the music that defined my year. My 2022 playlist makes clear that my music preferences were erratic, fleeting, undefined. I listened to a lot of music; I liked most of it. But no album truly wriggled into my subconsciousness. Nothing became a compulsive listening habit like Jubilee, Home Video, Screen Violence, or Mythopoetics had done in 2021. And certainly nothing like Punisher, Notes on a Conditional Form, Miss Anthropocene, or Likewise had done the year before. 

Again, that’s not for a lack of good music. Again again, I listened to more music this year than any year prior. But I find myself in a state of general positivity, few negative reactions to anything, few ecstatic ones. The closest an album’s come to a 30-50 minute earworm has been Sylvan Esso’s No Rules Sandy. I first put it on while getting ready for bed and ended up stomping, jumping, and full-body punching around my bathroom, working up a humid sweat as my body’s moisture mixed with the residual wet of my night time shower.

Art Moore’s self-titled debut was simple and beautiful, instantly understandable. Midnights was frictionless and went down mostly easy, like medicine chased with honey. Little bitter, but mostly sweet. Don’t worry, the medicinal taste only lasts a minute and you’ll forget you’d even taken anything by morning.

Likewise, Florist should have been an immersive listen, a circle of personable synth around a campfire with a guitar. And it was! It’s great, but after a few days of listening, I stopped and mostly forgot about it, despite it being a record I know I would have been consumed by a year ago. 

This happened with a lot more albums too: Surrender, Cool it Down, Be Careful With Yourself, This is a Photograph, Preacher’s Daughter, Bronco, CAPRISONGS, Two Ribbons, Glitch Princess, Weather Alive…I could go on. They’re some of my favorite albums of the year, yet I feel little to no personal connection to any of them. There is no denying their quality, their artistry, but all of them had a very brief presence in my life. The albums that have stuck with me and become compulsive listens are connected to specific times, moments, and emotions from my life. They become part of my history. Sometimes, they are the key to my history, helping me remember temporal selves when they come on. 2022 had few songs that did that for me. 

The ones I kept on were: The 1975’s “Happiness,” Sylvan Esso’s “How Did You Know” and “Look at Me,” Art Moore’s “A Different Life,” Maggie Rogers’ “That’s Where I Am,” Björk’s “Atopos” and “Ovule,” Jockstrap’s “Jennifer B,” Ethel Cain’s “American Teenager,” Dry Cleaning’s “Don’t Press Me,” and Phoebe Bridger’s “Sidelines.” That seems like a lot, actually. I don’t know, maybe I haven’t sorted my thoughts on them yet. But, undeniably, something feels missing and hollow. 

The same went for video games, though this has been oncoming for a long time. I think I know why and I wish I didn’t. I played less video games this year than I ever have, which is sad. I love video games; I feel it is the medium that I understand the most. But I find that I just don’t have the time anymore. Well, I do. Video games just take so much work for me now: the control memorization, the story, the mechanics, etc. It seems so much to come back to my apartment, take my shoes off, turn on my switch, decide what to play, remember how to play it, and play it. I just can’t do that anymore. Not right now, at least. 

I saw some great films, though. After Yang was thought-provoking, Memoria was more than worth the wait, Neptune Frost was fantastic. I saw C’mon C’mon, which I think about a lot, despite the Joaquin Phoenix of it all. And what more can be said of Everything Everywhere All at Once? I saw it first at my university’s on-campus theatre. Bad choice. Very loud audience who laughed while I felt at the verge of tears—weird disconnect. I still loved it, though. I tried to watch it a second time by myself in my room and I had to turn it off during Waymond’s monologue/montage because I was sobbing so hard. I had to clean snot off my keyboard the next morning. Marcel the Shell was also great, as was Skinamarink (which really comes out next year). 

I didn’t watch much TV, but I just did most of Chainsaw Man and I loved it.

2022 felt like a liminal year for me. I feel so different from how I did a year ago. In some ways, I feel more comfortable than I ever have, but I think in transporting so much, I feel a new sense of uncomfortable. I don’t think I understand it yet, and I didn’t even know a move was happening until recently. I think that mood leaked into everything else I did. 

I had the worst panic attack I’ve ever had in my life in 2022. I had the least anxiety I’ve ever had in social situations in 2022. I drank too much coffee and spent too much on clothes. 

I recently watched The Banshees of Inisherin and I hated it. Well-acted, beautifully shot, clever, at times visceral. But I hated it because of its premise. Colm truly doesn’t have a good reason to dislike Pádraic; he just does. By the end of the film, Colm has accomplished what he wanted, he’s grown less cold, but he still doesn’t want to be friends with Pádraic and he can’t explain why other than flatly stating, “I just don’t like you anymore.” And that fucks with my head. I can’t figure it out and I don’t think you’re supposed to. It feels like pointless misery, endless and irreconcilable misery. It got a chuckle out of me, though.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 14 June ‘21

Louis Tomlinson Cooks is here!! Yeah it’s 100% for sure as delightful to watch Louis make himself a sandwich as you might have hoped, but how was his cooking? Well I’ll let Louis rate himself-- “I’m not gonna lie not that appetizing is it, I mean look at it,” he says when it comes time to taste his creation, plus, “chopping peeling slicing not great to be fair- everything else I’m all right” (he’s… not wrong, even aside from the peeler issues has this man ever held a knife??) but- “it probably tastes nice though as I said it’s not about presentation for me… [munches cutely]... it’s actually pretty banging, that’s actually quite nice!” Success! Maybe it’s cause he knows the secret to faking good cooking- “as you can see I don’t have a lot of cooking ability so the more butter the better,” I mean the experts can tell you, that’s advanced stuff right there! #Louis-aChild! Substituting mustard and ketchup for coleslaw is a bit of a bold move, but in a belated attempt to convince the kiddos to eat some healthy veg even though he won’t he does bravely try the cucumber strips despite being “not really a man for cucumber” and makes a pained attempt to be positive- “bit of crunch.” Oh and speaking of crunch I’m relieved to have learned that the waffle is NOT a waffle, it’s a crispy waffle shaped bit of potato; a much more reasonable fish sandwich addition than the American version of a potato waffle! Full Time Meals polled to see what people think of Louis cooking; the two choices are “it was amazing” and “the best,” THEY GET IT. My kind of Louis poll! Helen Seamons rated him a “10/10 for effort and entertainment”, Masterchef acknowledged Louis as one of their own, and Marcus Rashford keeps it simple- “my guy” with a lil heart. YEAH, SAME.

Harry showed up in Italy, where he was papped in Venice being driven around (with PA Luis) on a boat (as you do, in Venice). He’s in a cool embroidered Bode shirt and shades and fancy hair, looking good. He’s seen carrying his suitcase, taking photos, and resting his head on his arms looking like a model. One might think, since we just saw the My Policeman cast and crew on set celebrating the wrap of the shoot, that they were done filming and Harry was off to do something different, but nope, he’s there to film! The book has key scenes in Venice that folks had been wondering about the filming of, and David Dawson is also being boated around Venice for the paps, so, it seems that was just for the wrap of the *UK* filming, which makes sense I guess since it would mostly be different crew I imagine, and perhaps some of the main cast are done as well.

Liam’s NFT sale is happening tomorrow! If you’re confused and want more info, I’M NOT GONNA HELP THAT MUCH… uh but I mean you can check out Liam’s youtube video explaining though I would guess that won’t help much (even Liam thinks so; “there’s probably websites that explain a lot better than me” he admits). There is a roundup now posted of what’s on offer for the buyers of the NFTs but I’m gonna be really honest with you, I’m more confused now than I was before. It’s clear that there are only SIX LONELY BUG NFTs right? They for sure said that I believe. But the packages for each different piece (token bundles) seem to me like they’re available to multiple buyers? Like maybe you don’t get the NFT but multiple top bidders on each get the extras? Like they can’t be selling multiple copies of the NFT... can they?! Isn’t the WHOLE POINT that only one person gets to own it? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW I AM SORRY. What I think I understand to be true: the six NFT buyers get to go to “a once-in-a-lifetime immersive dining experience at Resorts World Las Vegas” (this is the dinner with Liam and “a selection of crypto leaders from around the world” which takes place on display inside a giant glass box) and also “a bespoke commemorative presentation box containing the world’s leading holographic display... with audio... and a custom made Lonely Bug commemorative coin,” and “a unique QR code directing the owner to a special ‘Director’s Cut’ edit of the short digital film ‘Making Of Lonely Bug Collection’ which features unreleased footage from the day of the drop showing the creators' reactions when the winning bids came in” (I mean YEAH I would think it’s unreleased it literally hasn’t happened?) But then there are really a lot of other extras including tickets with Meet & Greet access to any Liam Payne headline show around the world, admission to pool and cinema parties in Vegas with Liam, signed art, non-Liam extras (I will literally bid to NOT have 20 minute phone calls with those crypto entrepreneurs PLEASE… but that’s just me), and access to an online party hosted by Liam; I really get the impression many of these, especially the last one, are just crypto tokens that are for sale that aren’t linked to the main Lonely Bug NFTs and many more than 6 people can buy them but a lot of the extras I’m not clear on which it is. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll understand better WE WILL SEE.

Liam also dropped by the discord last night to say some hellos (after a “long long day”) and that he “bought a piece of NFT art of myself tonight I’m going to give it as a prize Monday night so someone can own a piece of art that was owned by me” (an even less tangible bragging point than simply owning an NFT wow that’s an achievement) and the most important update- “I want a French Bulldog”! Oh and he said “that’s like one I did myself” in his fanart channel to a pic of a tiny crocheted illustration of Louis and Harry holding up a rainbow flag. Didya Liam?? (...Liam is crocheting??) Anyway I recognize who it’s supposed to be because it’s based on a familiar piece of fanart, but Liam definitely might NOT realize it’s meant to be someone specific, and tbh I’m more <eyeballs> at him saying that at the rainbow flag crocheted thing than at it being shippy.

Our Song acoustic version is out this Friday!! And Niall talked about NH3 some in an interview today; “I’m in the studio most days, it feels really good. I’m kinda in the latter stages of it and then I’ll go get a band together and go in and record the whole thing. I’ve just kind of been writing for the past 9 or 10 months and really enjoying it” and “It sounds like a complete album. God knows when it’s coming out because I’d like to be able to get around the world to see all the fans as well” and “It’s different. It sounds a lot more grown up. I’m 27 so it’s about time. I really wanted to kinda cement a sound. The singles I’ve released previously have all been kinda different sounds. I would like to have my ballad sound & like a cemented uptempo sound.” He and Anne Marie also talked about one of the other songs they wrote together saying, “It’s kind of like a, how do you describe it- guitar driven meets Tom Petty meets Katy Perry meets…” but say “We haven’t really decided if we are putting it out yet, the conversations are kinda happening... but it’s completely different (from Our Song).”

[reflectionsofneptune]

little things about the Mars Signs

18+ 

little, dreamy things I associate with sex and the Mars signs in Astrology. 

Aries Mars

Rawness. A strong grip. Tugging a lock of hair when it gets too much. A thin line between pain and pleasure. Nails scratching down a back because of frustration. A build up. Taunts. Deliberately causing arguments because make-up sex with you feels so good. Will you take the bait? Sex feeling new each time. A fast rhythm. Confidence. Advancing towards you. Feeling protective over you. An urge to KO anyone who looks at you for more than 2 seconds. Warrior urges instigated. Persistence got me this far in life, let me show you how it works for me.

Taurus Mars

Pressure. A slow burning warmth that licks up the body. We have all the time in the world.  Every part of the body exposed to a kiss, a touch, a breath of air. Flickering of orange flames in a fireplace. A feeling of pure, unabashed sensuality when naked. Coolness of air which brushes the hairs on the back of the neck. Rooted in sexual energy. Slow and steady wins the race. Scented massages. Starting at the base of the neck. Feeling strength. Resilience. Flavoured condoms. Drunk on your love. How is it possible you taste sweeter every time? The smooth column of the throat. The shadows a sunset causes dancing. Seduction is like art to me, let me paint you a masterpiece. 

Gemini Mars

Curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat had nine lives. Opening up to try different things. Trying to do too many things at once. Falling on the floor so we stay there. A combination of arms and legs. Head cocked to one side. Observing you from a different angle. Slanted eyes. A feeling of pressure that’s quick but growing in acuteness. Busy hands. Roaming fingers. Lights on or off it doesn’t matter. I can still picture you. In my mind. With my eyes closed. You’re a permanent imprint on my psyche. My desire resides on the mental plane. Whispering all the things I want to do to you. Biting an ear lobe. Wanting to learn about every inch of your body. Tell me your fantasies and watch how fast I bring it to you in real time.

Cancer Mars

Baby. But I can take control. It depends how I feel. An emotionally charged touch. Hearts in sync. A vivid imagination. Role-playing. Wearing that outfit I know has that effect on you. Playing coy. If I’m feeling sad, I might insist we stay wrapped in each other’s arms, just for a while. Is that OK? A stormy kind of desire. Waking up to kisses. Not wanting to sleep because this moment is all I ever dreamed of. This feels like home. Checking in with you. A sensitive kind of love. Hold me tight. So tight I can’t breathe. Only then will it feel right. TLC. Crying before, during and after sex. I can’t help it. A sudden wave of desire, greedy in nature. Strong feelings of lust. My fervour for you is bottomless, this is but a small representation of its total expression.

Leo Mars

Doing it in the mirror so I can show you how beautiful you look. Don’t be shy. Rose petals on the bed. Even more rose petals on the floor. I wanna perform for you. An effortless performance, start to finish. This is what you signed up for. Let me deliver my end of the deal. Pride in the bedroom. Forgetting about past lovers. At the moment of release, saying my name soothes the lion inside that bares it’s teeth when you’re underneath me. Aggression. Feeling royal together. Round one barely took the edge off. Leaving my mark on you. The bedroom feels like a hunting ground. Running isn’t an option. Pleasure in all its forms. Can you tame the beast?

Virgo Mars

Acting reserved in public but it’s a different story behind closed doors. Who knew? Not afraid to get dirty with you. Voyuerism. Less stress. Surrendering to pleasure and not feeling guilty for it. Peace with the imperfection of this ritual. Perfection out of the window. Lust making a direct entrance, front and centre. Tasting you. And then kissing you. Tasting us. Fresh sheets. Getting equally turned on watching you get dressed vs watching you get undressed. When we’re done, cleaning you as an act of service. Submission. A routine that brings order to a chaotic life. If I tell you how crucial this is to my well-being, will you look down on me?

Libra Mars

Fluid. Fluidity in our movements. You first, then me. Close your eyes if you like. There’s no rush. I like being here with you. Who said romance was dead? Wants and desires expressed with you in mind. Sleepy sex. In the throes of passion, you still look like a masterpiece. Can’t get enough. Delicate petals of a rose. Instinctively knowing how to get you off. Licking my lips. And then licking you down there. Playing with you with finesse. How does this feel? Dressing up, just for you. A breathy sigh released in the crook of the neck. Scented candles. Not knowing where each other begins and ends. Not caring. A true union of souls. Sharing this helps me to forget about inner turmoil, if only for a little while.

Scorpio Mars

Enticement. Pupils full and unblinking. Space between us lasts for a second. Who are we kidding? Sharing oxygen. Sucking on your bottom lip. Eyes on me. That’s not a request. Wanting to watch you fall apart. A wet trail left by a tongue. Those kind of toys. Do you trust me? Show me how much. Fingers pressed into the skin, hard. A ghostly handprint flashes on the surface of the skin for a heartbeat. Teeth tease the throb of a pulse point. Blood rushing. Be brave enough to discover the intensity of my feelings and be sucked under. Only to rise up in levels in consciousness on a spiritual plane. Love is transformational. I’m willing to show you what you do to me. Don’t run.

Sagittarius Mars

Free rein. Sex with the possibility of being exposed. Down for whatever. Bluntness. Desires expressed with no shame. A finger over the lips. Playing to win. Feeling energised when rolling around the sheets. Nothing is off limits. Fantasies coming true. No strings attached. Watch me do you. Laughter as foreplay. Relax with me. You may have tried this position before but with me it’s different. Let’s get physical. A work out. Kissing you to muffle your screams. Messy hair. Messy sheets. How did this end up in the bed? Mundane details of life losing their importance when we’re together. Feeling the strength coursing through the thighs. I would risk getting caught with you.

Capricorn Mars

A hand on your waist in public, a hand on your throat in secret. Trust me, it feels better when you wait. Limits pushed. Burning up. Debauchery. I won’t tell. It’s our little secret. Experience is a turn on. Standards are a turn on. A sense of control. Mastery. I know this game in and out. Sex is all about power at the end of the day. Soft bristles of a whip, barely brushing the spine. I know how to do this with my eyes closed. How do you feel about blindfolds? Vulnerability. Replaying these moments we share in inappropriate places. Seductive e-mails. Legs pressed tightly together. Having power over you is an accolade I hold close to my heart, not something I take for granted.

Aquarius Mars

Electric. Electricity when our fingers touch. Permission to be one’s free, authentic self. A non-judgement zone. Non-physical forms of affection. I’m open to trying something new with you. Inviting other people into the picture but only you can make me feel this way. Incorporating technology to add a new flavour. Feeling closer to you in group sex. Conversations intermingling within the very act of sex. Noses brushing against each other faintly. Deep eye-contact feels orgasmic. Hearing soft vibrations in the air before you feel it. Swirling galaxies. My thoughts are consumed by you nowadays, but I’m OK with that.

Pisces Mars

Altered states of consciousness. The bliss that comes when feeling wholly accepted. Complete adoration. Eyes locked. A desire to merge together. Skinny-dipping under the cloak of the night. Who cares if we get caught. No restrictions. A transcendent experience. Artistic nudes. A photo album on my phone. Dedicated to you. Boundaries teased. Biting my lip to control myself but failing. Kisses on the forehead. Reverence. I can morph into whoever you want me to. Kissing you, but my eyes are open. Moments of silence. Desires expressed without words. The sweetest dreams. Every time feels like a little death, only to be reborn again.  

| little thoughts about the mercury placements

| little thoughts about the venus placements

| little thoughts about the saturn placements