#honeycomb moodies

[41style]

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧ . ハニカム おはな . ✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

[mrsaito58]

my personal British Invasion Top Ten (#1-5)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s your first day at work. Your nerves have simmered over to a nice whirlwind. Even as you sit at your desk, going through the various training materials. You haven’t managed to calm down. Your heart is beating so fast.

Everyone’s been nice. You don’t know why you’re jittering. Like your mother says, you’re overthinking, and like your father says, you need to sit still. You grab the armrests and try to make yourself stop moving. It only makes you want to boil over.

You swivel back and forth and look at your coworkers. They’re all so busy like bees in a hive. They know exactly what they’re doing and you still feel lost as you sift through endless SOPs and corporate training videos.

You see a woman with purplish red curls with a mug, steam curling over the brim. Ah, that’s a good excuse for a break. You still need to figure out the office coffee machine. Daniella, your supervisor, briefly pointed it out during her tour. It’s one of those fancy industrial pod brewers.

You stand and nearly skip between the desks. Be cool. You slow your pace and hold your shoulders straight, your squared toed kitten heels clacking on the tile. You poke your head into the kitchen and find only one other employee inside.

The man’s shoulders are broad and straight as he stares silently at the coffee machine. It grinds and spurts out dark coffee. You come up next to him to peruse the spinning rack of pods, tapping your chin as you think. You peek over at him.

“Hi,” you smile, “any recommendations?”

His pale blue eyes meet yours for an instant before quickly flicking back to his cup. A plain black porcelain mug without any decoration or glitz. You already know which cup you want to bring in; the one that looks like a honey pot and has a small lid resembling a bear sticking his head out with a little honeycomb stitch between his ears.

You take one of the paper cups and a pod of the butterscotch twist. You stand back and wait your turn. He scowls as if mentally urging the cup to fill.

“I’m…” you introduce yourself, “I just started over in Research and Development.”

He doesn’t respond. He puts his hands behind him, clutching them tightly as his forearms tense. The tendons bulge out beneath his skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, a grey button up with black trousers. A bit grim but an aesthetic for sure. There’s several rings on his fingers as they curl around each other.

“It’s my first day,” you continue the one-sided conversation, “so… that’s why you never saw me before.”

He growls and grabs his cup as the machine dings. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he turns on his heel and marches out. You watch his back and shrug, blowing out between your lips. You get it, some people aren’t the social type.

You put your cup under the spout and tap the touchscreen. It takes you a lot of poking around to figure out how to brew the coffee. You step back and wait. Caffeine should definitely help your nerves… fuel them at least.

💗

Lunchtime comes and you grab your bento box and head down to the cafeteria. Daniella said you could eat your desk if you wished but you need a break from the screen. Besides, you notice that most people don’t.

You enter the cafeteria. There are tables here and there but they’re already crowded. You notice a few people from your department and head over to that table. Tammy moves her bag onto the seat before you can claim it. You frown and apologise as you back away.

Hmm.

You look around. You don’t know anyone. You don’t mind making new friends but it’s like high school all over again. Everyone has their clique and you’re just wandering in between.

Your gaze falls on the only table with more than one seat free. There’s a single person sitting at it, his head down as he runs his hand over his close cut hair. Hey, it’s… that guy. He didn’t give you his name.

You cross the room and near a chair, putting your hand on the back of it as you hover by the table.

“Hi, um, do you mind if I sit here?”

His eyes dart up and he says nothing. He shrugs and sits back, smoothing out the pages of the book in front of him. You sit, your bento box clanging loudly as you do. You give a sheepish smile as he clears his throat but doesn’t look at you.

You flip back the clasp and pop open the lid. He shifts in his chair as you take out your plastic cutlery from the little compartment. You try to be quiet but you can’t help but hit the fork off the side.

You look over at him. He has only his empty mug and a half-eaten protein bar. You look back at your colourful medley of food. Maybe he’s on a diet.

“Do you like hummus?” You ask.

He doesn’t look up. You bite your lip. You’re just being friendly but maybe he’s not hungry.

“Um, uh, you remember me?” You poke at your couscous, “from the kitchen? I didn’t get your name.”

He sighs and turns the page. You nod. Not much of a talker. You let your fork lean on the edge of the bento and grab the sides of your chair, scraping it closer. He snarls and finally looks at you.

You stop and show your teeth like a threatened animal. His jaw clenches and he refocus on his book. You stir the couscous and take a bite, swallowing as your curiosity piques.

“What are you read–”

“I’m not,” he grits and shuts the book without marking the page.

He stands and pockets the protein bar, swiping up his mug and book. You gape at him, stunned. You don’t know why he’s so upset. You’re just trying to be polite. He storms away and you frown at your food. Well, you’ve always got a friend in snacks!

[eiightysixbaby]

i've got you under my skin now

word count: 2.9k

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. SMUT SMUT SMUT. kind of asshole!eddie but he's really just a moody baby, oral (m receiving), masturbation, reader and eddie argue but everything is consensual, really just absolute filth with a plot.

summary: you're an up-and-coming musician in the rock scene and have been asked to join corroded coffin on a song. only thing is, their singer - eddie munson - proves to be challenging to collaborate with.

author's note: my first lengthier work so sorry in advance if there are errors! this is a daisy jones and the six inspired one-shot, and for the sake of this fic i directly reference the title and lyrics of the song 'honeycomb' from the tv show - but you really don't need to know the book/show to understand. ok anyways hope u all like it and here u go @taintedcigs i know u've been waiting for this one em i hope u love it!!

“Honestly Eddie, I don’t care anymore! I’m not listening to your little rockstar tantrum. She’s coming in, and she’s joining you on the song. That’s final.”

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

“Tom, you don’t fucking get it man. Clearly. My song is perfect. What do we need her for? She doesn’t even have an album out, she’s made no name for herself. She’s going to ruin Corroded Coffin.” Eddie continues pestering, despite Tom’s insistence against it.

“No, Eddie, see that’s where you’re wrong. You wrote a good song man, okay? A good song. But just a good song. She could make it great. You haven’t heard her sing like I have. She has real talent.”

Eddie scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Oh a good song, huh? But you said the label liked it. Why change it?”

Tom sighs, taking a step towards Eddie. “The label didn’t dig the song… okay? They said it needs more, otherwise they’re gonna pass on it.”

“So you fuckin’ lied man, fuck-“ Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine, whatever, she’s gonna sing on the song with me. But that’s it.” Eddie grumbles, storming out of the small room.

•••

“He doesn’t get it, guys, he doesn’t fucking get it!” Eddie yells. “This is my song. My fucking baby. And this... bitch is gonna come in here and destroy it. I don’t need her singing on the song - I don’t need anyone to make my music ‘better’” he spits.

The thing is, things have always gone Eddie’s way since Corroded Coffin gained traction in the music world. Eddie writes the songs, Eddie dictates which songs go on the album, so on and so forth. This makes sense to Eddie, and if you ask him, he’s being completely fair to the rest of the guys in the band. ‘Of course I let them have a say in things. I don’t care what rumors you’ve heard - it’s a fair process around here.’ It’s only natural that he can’t handle the idea of someone else singing on his song. Eddie is always the one singing, save for Gareth and Jeff doing backing vocals.

Eddie thrives off of being liked. The way the fans hang onto every word he sings- it’s electric to him. He’s addicted to the way people adore him. And he’d never admit it to anybody… but he’s nervous you might just show him up, and then *poof* no one cares about him anymore.

“Come on, Eddie. Ease up a little! This could be fun, you never know.” Gareth says, following Eddie back and forth as he paces the recording studio.

“I give you like, 20 minutes before you’re in love with her… or bending her over a table.” Jeff interjects, screeching when Gareth throws a drumstick at him to shut him up.

Eddie can’t get a rebuttal in before the door swings open. Tom walks in trailed by a young woman. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman Eddie’s ever see- nope. Nope. Not going there. What was that?

“Guys. This is Y/N, as I’m sure you could guess. She’s here to record ‘Honeycomb’ with us today.” Tom smiles politely at the group, jolting Eddie from his thoughts.

“Y/N, hey. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Gareth, this is Jeff, Greg, and I’m sure you know Eddie - the star of the show.” Gareth goes around the room, pointing at all of the guys.

You meet Eddie’s gaze as Gareth talks, and your breath hitches in your throat. Of course you know who Eddie is- you’ve seen him on magazine covers and in interviews. You’ve always thought he was alluring, but he’s even more gorgeous in person. Long, curly hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Tattoos trailing up his arms and chains around his neck. His signature ripped black skinny jeans that hug him so well in all the right places… fuck. Focus. You are not here to sleep with Eddie Munson. You redirect your attention to Gareth as he finishes speaking.

The rest of the guys all greet you warmly - except Eddie, you notice - who gives you a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod.

You walk straight up to him, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you Eddie. Thank you so much for letting me be on the song - seriously, it means the world.” You say, exaggerating sincerity a little.

Eddie reluctantly shakes your hand. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

He walks away to set up a microphone before he can think too hard about the way his heart pounded as your hands touched.

•••

The recording session starts, and take one of the song has begun. You insisted on using the same mic as Eddie, who begrudgingly allowed you to stand beside him, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. The contact sends chills down his spine. Eddie sings the first lines confidently into the mic, not making eye contact with you. Tom, along with the rest of the band watch the two of you intently from the sound booth. Honestly, Eddie has to admit everything is going smoothly. That is, until the chorus starts. Eddie sings one lyric into the microphone… and you sing a different one.

“Woah, woah, okay, stop!” Eddie yells to Tom to cut the track, pulling the clunky headphones off of his head. “Those aren’t the lyrics, what are you doing?” He’s turned to face you, incredulous.

“Um I- I’m sorry, did he not get my version? Does he not know?” You say, avoiding eye contact with Eddie to level with Tom.

“Your version!? This is my song- you are here to sing on my song. Not to rewrite the damn song!” Eddie hisses, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, darling, I’m here to make your song better. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.” You narrow your eyes at him, a syrupy sweet smile on your face.

Eddie’s face is burning, his whole body is burning. You weren’t supposed to write new lyrics. This is not happening. And for the love of god stop staring at her lips, Eddie.

“Eddie, uh, let’s give her version a shot, yeah?” Tom says, framing it like a question, but Eddie knows he doesn’t really have a choice.

The track starts from the top again, and Eddie finds that his hands are trembling as he holds your songbook. He sings the lyrics as you have written them, and his stomach sinks as he does it. He hates that you’ve changed his perfect song. He hates that he was made to look like an idiot because Tom didn’t tell him you had rewritten anything. And most of all, he hates that he can hear how good your voices sound together. He hates that he thinks he’d like to hear the sound of your voice for the rest of his life, on the rest of his songs.

“Oooh, we could make a good thing bad,” the two of you sing out in unison, and the song ends.

Eddie stares at you and you stare at him, chest heaving and absolutely beaming. The rest of the band are looking at the two of you in awe from the sound booth. Eddie can’t bring himself to smile, can’t bring himself to let you know that he thinks you really might have made his song better. Can’t face you while his mind races with thoughts of grabbing your face and kissing you. Instead, he hands you your lyric book and hurries out of the studio.

You excuse yourself to the group amid their praises and follow him out the large wooden doors. You’re surprised to find the lobby empty, but then you hear noise coming from down the hall. Walking over to a small closet, you peer in and see Eddie in the dim light, leaning against the wall, hands covering his face and his head tipped back.

“Eddie, what was up with that?” You ask him gently, closing the closet door behind you for privacy. “I thought we sounded great.”

“You rewrote my fucking song!” He booms over you. “That wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to sing on it with me and that would be that.” He’s stepped towards you, leaving little room between the two of you in the already-cramped closet.

“It’s not my fault Tom didn’t tell you I changed some of the lyrics, okay? I didn’t expect you to be blindsided like that. But you could’ve been more mature about it!” You defend.

“Who the hell do you think you are? No- seriously, tell me. Corroded Coffin has worked so hard to make a name for ourselves. I have worked so hard. And you just waltz in here like you own the place? What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s words come out sharp, bitter, but there’s an emotion behind his eyes you can’t quite place. Fear? Maybe.

“Oh get your head out of your ass already, Eddie! I made your song better! We sounded fucking amazing together- the label might actually want it now!” You’re screaming back at him at this point, heat rising in your face as he steps impossibly closer to you. “And don’t even get me fucking started on the Corroded Coffin bullshit. Do you even give the other guys a say in what happens in this band? Cause you seem like a big cocky crybaby who always gets his way. I may not be rich and famous like you are but at least I’m not a fucking prick!” You’re seething, and you press your hands to his chest in an attempt to shove him backwards.

Eddie stops you, though, grabs you by the wrists. Firmly, but not hurting. His huge brown eyes haven’t stopped boring into yours. He thinks his heart might sprout wings and fly out of his chest. He thinks he might hate himself forever if he doesn’t get to have more of you.

“What- now you’re speechless? Don’t have anything to s-“ Eddie cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours like his life suddenly depends on it. Maybe it does.

You’re caught off guard, frozen in place for only a second until you kiss him back, pushing him up against the shelves behind him. His hands leave your wrists and hastily scour your body. You’d think he was a man starved the way he grips at your hips, lips basically devouring yours all the while. Eddie gasps as you lean down to his neck, sucking red and purple marks onto the skin that Jeff is definitely going to mock him for later. He can’t bring himself to care. He grabs your face in his hands to meet your lips once again, needing more.

“You wanna know something, Y/N?” Eddie says between kisses, moving down to nip at your neck. “I can’t fucking stand the way you came in here so confidently today-“ another kiss to your neck. “The way you came right up and sang into the same mic as me instead of using your own, like you just own the whole room-“ another kiss, and another “I can’t stand the fact that your lyrics are better than mine- that maybe you made 'Honeycomb' something I couldn’t make it,” he’s talking through gritted teeth, agitated and yet completely enamored with you. “I hate that the entire time I was watching you sing, I couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock..”

Before you can respond, he’s unbuttoning your jeans, pushing you against the opposite wall of the closet, taking control.

“I think you’re absolutely insufferable and immature” you breathe out, pulling his hair out of its ponytail so you can run your fingers through it.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, but it’s arrogant, smug. “You can spit whatever insults you like, sweetheart, but you’re absolutely soaked right now.” He gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he does. His fingers had slipped inside the waistband of your pants, and are now circling the lace fabric of your panties.

You feel yourself clench around nothing as his fingers tease your core. You let out an involuntary moan, rutting your hips down against his touch. He gets the hint and shimmies your jeans down your legs, and you slip out of them after quickly taking your shoes off. You meet his gaze again as he tugs his jeans down slightly, pulling his cock free from the thin fabric of his boxers.

And - oh my god - he’s fucking huge. Thick and long with a dripping pink tip. You swallow, hard, and you swear you feel your mouth start to water. Suddenly you can’t figure out how you’ve survived this long without him, and you certainly won’t be able to after this.

“Get on your fucking knees, babydoll” he purrs, lips inches away from your ear.

You oblige, of course, settling yourself so that your pussy rests on the toe of his combat boot, aching for whatever friction you can get. You take his cock into your mouth without further instruction from the rockstar, and he inhales sharply above you.

“Fuck, baby, shit-“ Eddie groans, collecting your hair in one of his hands and tugging, his cock twitching slightly in your mouth.

“What, big shot, can’t handle it? Should I tell the press that Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin comes three seconds into a blowjob?” you tease him, but you can’t ignore the way your head spins at his praise.

“Shut up and fucking suck it, sweetheart- I can handle it.” He hisses.

You don't need further instruction. Your tongue works on his cock, licking a stripe up his length and then kitten-licking the tip. Eddie’s seeing stars as you engulf him entirely in your mouth once again. You go at it for a while before he feels you rutting yourself against his boot.

His laugh is devious, wicked. “So desperate for me huh, sweet thing? Gonna get yourself off while you suck my cock, baby?”

You want to retaliate, taunt him back, do anything to make yourself seem like more than a pathetic fucking whore for him, but you’re dripping through your panties and the friction is so, so delicious you can’t stop your movements. Warmth is beginning to pool in your stomach and you need this release. You take him as deep into your mouth as you can, his tip practically nudging the back of your throat, gagging around him. Eddie thinks he might die, seriously, this is it for him. ‘Rockstar Dies In Supply Closet With His Dick Out’ he can see the tabloid headlines now. He tugs your hair and holds your head still as he starts to fuck into your mouth, reveling in the moans and mewls you let out beneath him.

“Shit, sweetheart, you feel s’fucking good around my dick-" he grunts, throwing his head back as he picks up his pace. "Go ahead and touch yourself for me, sweet girl. I know you need more." He says roughly.

You happily let him throat-fuck you as you tug your panties down slightly, bringing a hand down to allow your fingers to rub harsh circles into your clit. You feel yourself getting closer, a coil tightening more more more as he fucks into the heat of your mouth. You can sense his movements getting erratic, and you glance up to look at his face. He's delirious, so fucked out, and you feel as if you could melt into a puddle right here at his feet as you watch him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, sweetheart, shit- you want it in your mouth?” He asks you, brown eyes blown out wide as he awaits your response.

You nod, mouth too full of him to speak, and you squeeze his heavy balls in your free hand as he thrusts faster faster faster into your mouth. He lets out a strangled moan as his cock twitches, ropes of hot cum coating your tongue. You quicken your pace on your aching clit and it doesn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap. You cum all over your fingers and Eddie's boot that still rests beneath you, as he finishes riding out his high above you. He watches you as you swallow his load and he silently swears to himself he’ll do whatever he can to have you like this more often.

“Fuck, baby, you soaked my shoes huh? You okay?” He asks you tenderly, grabbing your arms to pick you up off the floor and steady your shaking frame. You nod, collapsing against him, head pressed to his chest. The two of you stay like that for a while, listening to each others heavy breaths before Eddie finally breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being a dick about having you on the song, okay?” He says, his voice softer and far more unsure than you've ever heard it. “You made it better- I really fucking mean that.”

“I know I did.” you reply, shifting to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “A few more rounds of this," you gesture around the two of you, "and I think you’ll have made it up to me” you smirk at him.

“Alright, sweetheart, same place same time tomorrow?” Eddie teases, and you laugh. That’s a sound he thinks he could get used to.

•••

When the two of you walk back into the recording room, Eddie's neck littered with hickeys and mascara smudged around your eyes, no one says a damn word.

"'Honeycomb' take three anyone?" Eddie asks.

[the-wildwitch]

BLESSED LITHA

And Happy Summer Solstice!

Today is the day we celebrate the sun!

My plans today:

- put together a peach, mint, green tea to infuse in the suns rays

- a little sunny craft

- bake this amazing honey cake in my honeycomb silicone mold: https://www.moodymoons.com/2018/06/12/honey-cakes-summer-solstice-recipe/

What do you have planned for today?

[kimmiessimmies]

As a "sim parent" (sim maker) we shouldn't have favorites - but we do. Post your favorite sim baby (the golden child) and least fav. Pass it on!

Thank you, dear Lana @eljeebee and Pru @treason-and-plot, for both sending me this ask.

Well, my dears, I can try to be original, but I think everyone knows who my golden child is.

My love for James is endless. I love the complexity of his character. I love that he has secrets, but can be very open when he feels safe. I love that he conveys the message that romantic attraction and sexual attraction don't always go together and that's okay. I love that he's confident and insecure at the same time. I love his musicality and that he'll pursue his musical dreams no matter what. I love his passion and his drive. I love his big heart. I love that when he commits to something or someone, he sticks with it/them. I love that he's smart. I love that he's slightly cross-eyed by nature, even though I have no sliders or custom eye things in my game that cause this; it's naturally him, which gives him a realness I adore. I could truly go on for ages. ❤️

As for my least favourite... Well... I have over 100 Sims in or around my Honeycomb Valley and since storytelling became my main objective, more than most of them have become side characters or even just "extras". At least for now. Since the story is essentially still about Honeycomb Valley, you never know who will step up at any point and become more central. However, at the moment most of them exist somewhere in the background and I could easily point at one of them randomly and say "it's you, because you bore me." 🫣 (Sorry!)

Ignoring those characters though and bringing it closer, my least favourite is probably Anna.

The daughter of the mayor and a moody, spoilt bitch, to be frank. She popped out a son as a result of a teen pregnancy, handed him to the nanny and never looked back. In fact, she even turned her back on him because after high school, she packed her bags to spend a gap year in France. She's currently at university, hating on everything.

Now, a character like Anna could make for interesting storylines, but atm she annoys me too much to fully write her in. So I understand why you may not have heard of her before. If I need to point out a more central character who I'm not liking very much atm, I'm sorry to say it's...

Seth... Sorry, dude, but something is bothering you, which is bringing out your resentful side, and that's not a good colour on you... There's still some love for Seth deep down, though, because we go way back, and he's the best boyfriend in the world to dear Sarah. I have loads of plans for their future story, so I'm sure Seth and I can patch things up. But at the moment, we're not really seeing eye-to-eye. 😔

Thanks for this fun ask!

[voiceofsword]

Oooh! You like Jojo! Since the solo names came out, I've been thinking about those being their stand names! With YTL being something similar to Tonio's Pearl Jam, like a healer type. And Thrill Addict being a more fighter oriented stand

YESSSSSSS TOTALLY!!! ok i started thinking about them before solo were announced at all and before rinne event so i had just done like. center event -> person i.e niki honeycomb summer, himeru ariadne etc etc. THE TONIOS PEARL JAM COMPARISON IS SO GOOD BC I LITERALLY THINK I HAD NOTES ON IT....for u anon i will look. altho forgive me bc i wasnt wholly satisfied with any of these designs which is why i never posted >_>

in my head i also thought of rinne and himerus stands being more humanoid: himerus being more sleek and featureless, only eyes and leaning towards smth like d4c, moody blues, rinnes more cluttered and has a face, like star platinum or kq. niki and kohaku's lean more towards creatures or objects — with niki i wanted to do something mostly non-organic - think harvest, or california king bed where they look like toys almost, whereas kohaku's is something that comes from within him or transform him, maybe like white album or hermit purple, has a power similar to purple haze so its scarcely used.

ok honestly typing all of this up has me excited again so i might actually rework my concepts and base them around the solo titles this time.. ty anon you have inspired me

[thehoneycombdailydevotional]

•●🍯THE HONEYCOMB🍯●•

✝oday's honey🌱

October 5, 2024

Dwight Lyman Moody

Christian Classics Ethereal Library

Born in Northfield, Massachusetts, Moody left home at age 17 to work in his uncle’s shoe store in Boston. Converted under the influence of his Sunday school teacher, he joined a Congregational church. In 1856, he headed for Chicago, where he engaged in a variety of business pursuits and evangelistic work.

He started a Sunday school in 1858 and served as an evangelist and relief worker with the U.S. Christian Commission during the Civil War. In 1863, he organized the independent Illinois Street Church in Chicago, and in 1866 he became president of the city’s YMCA. Moody made a preaching tour of major British cities during the years 1873 to 1875, during which he and songster, Ira Sankey attracted enormous crowds.

For the next five years, he conducted urban revivals in America’s largest cities, then returned to Great Britain for another series of meetings from 1881 to 1884. His urban campaigns in North America continued until 1891, when he began to focus on other endeavours.

Moody’s efforts helped to shape a new and ardently evangelical transatlantic network. In 1880, he founded the Northfield Conferences, which were used to promote holiness teachings, premillennial views of the end times, and the use of non-denominational agencies to propagate the gospel. Speakers such as James Hudson Taylor, founder of the China Inland Mission, were featured at Northfield.

A YMCA conference for college students at Northfield in 1886 led to the formation of the Student Volunteer Movement for Foreign Missions, which adopted the watchword “the evangelization of the world in this generation.”

In 1889, Moody assisted in the founding of a Bible institute in Chicago to train urban evangelistic workers and foreign missionaries. This school, renamed the Moody Bible Institute after Moody’s death, proved to be his greatest contribution to the missionary enterprise. It has trained more missionaries than any other single institution in the United States.

[naturesfirstgreenisgold]

Camila and Billy Dunne Type Love

“…Give me all the platinum albums you want, all the drugs and all the Cuervo and all the fun times and successes and the fame and all of it, I would hand them all back to you, just as the cost of my memories with her….”

505- Artic Monkeys

Afterglow- Taylor Swift

All of Me- John Legend

The Archer- Taylor Swift

Aurora- Daisy Jones & The Six

betty-Taylor Swift

Blackbird- Remastered 2009- The Beatles

By Myself- Daisy Jones

Can’t Help Falling In Love- Elvis Presley

The Chain- 2004 Remastered- Fleetwood Mac

The Chain- Demo - Fleetwood Mac

The Chain- Live 1977 - Fleetwood Mac

champagne problems- Taylor Swift

Changes- Cam

Cornelia Street- Taylor Swift

cowboy like me- Taylor Swift

Daylight- Taylor Swift

Death By A Thousand Cuts- Taylor Swift

Do You Wanna Know?- Arctic Monkeys

Don’t- Ed Sheeran

Don’t Be Cruel- Elvis Presley

Don’t Stop- 2004 Remastered- Fleetwood Mac

Don’t Stop- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Don’t You (Forget About Me)- Simple Minds

Dream- 2004 Remastered- Fleetwood Mac

Dream- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Dreams- Take 2- Fleetwood Mac

False God- Taylor Swift

Flip The Switch- The Dunne Brothers

Forever- Remastered 2009- The Beach Boys

Gold Dust Woman- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Gold Dust Woman-Early Take; 2013 remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Gold Dust Woman- Live 1977; 2013 remaster- Fleetwood Mac

gold rush-Taylor Swift

Good Luck Charm- Elvis Presley

Go Your Own Way- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Go Your Own Way -Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

Go Your Own Way - Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Go Your Own Way- Live at Warner Brothers Studio In Burbank, CA 5/23/97- Fleetwood Mac

Graceland Too- Phoebe Bridgers

Have Love Will Travel- The Dunne Brothers

Heartbreak Hotel- Elvis Presley

Heaven- Bryan Adams

Hey! Baby- Bruce Channel

Hey Stephen (Taylor’s Version)-Taylor Swift

I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor- Arctic Monkeys

I Can See You(Taylors Version) (From The Vault)- Taylor Swift

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction- Mono Version- The Rolling Stones

I Don’t Want to Know- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

I Don’t Want to Know- Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

I Forgot That You Existed- Taylor Swift

invisible string- Taylor Swift

Iris- The Goo Goo Dolls

I Think He Knows- Taylor Swift

It’s Been a Long, Long Time (with Harry James & His Orchestra)- Harry James, Kitty Kallen

It’s Nice To Have A Friend- Taylor Swift

I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys

I Want To Hold Your Hand- Remastered 2009- The Beatles

Keep Me There- Instrumental; 2013 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Keep Me There- With Vocal; 2013 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Kill You To Try- Daisy Jones & The Six

the lakes-bonus track- Taylor Swift

Leather and Lace (With Don Henley)- Stevie Nicks

Let It Be- Remastered 2009- The Beatles

(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear- Elvis Presley

Let Me Down Easy- Demi Lovato, Daisy Jones & The Six

London Boy- Taylor Swift

Long Live- Taylor Swift

Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)- Daisy Jones & The Six

Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)- Maren Morris, Marcus Mumford, Daisy Jones & The Six

Look At Us Now (Honeycomb)-Single Version- Daisy Jones & The Six

Look Me In The Eye (feat. Daisy Jones)- Live from Diamond Head Festival- 1975- Daisy Jones, The Dunne Brothers

Love Me Tender- Elvis Presley

Lover- Taylor Swift

Lover- Recorded at Air Studios, London- Niall Horan, FLETCHER

Love Story- Taylor Swift

Love Story (Taylor’s Version)- Taylor Swift

The Man- Taylor Swift

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince- Taylor Swift

Monday Morning- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

More Than A Feeling- Boston

More Than Words- Extreme

Mr. Loverman- Ricky Montgomery

Mustang Sally- Wilson Pickett

Never Going Back Again- remaster 2004- Fleetwood Mac

Never Going Back Again- Acoustic Duet- Fleetwood Mac

Never Going Back Again- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

New Year’s Day- Taylor Swift

Nights in White Satin- The Moody Blues

November Rain- Guns N’ Roses

Oh Daddy- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Oh Daddy-Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

Rhiannon- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

The River (feat. Simone Jackson)- Live from Soldier Field-1977- Daisy Jones & The Six, Simone Jackson

Second Hand News- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Second Hand News- Early Take- Fleetwood Mac

She’s Always a Woman- Billy Joel

Silver Springs- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

Slow Dancing- Aly & AJ

Songbird-Remaster 2004- Fleetwood Mac

Songbird-Demo - Fleetwood Mac

Songbird- Instrumental, Take 10- 4- Fleetwood Mac

Songbird-Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

Star Treatment- Arctic Monkeys

Sweet Caroline- Neil Diamond

Sweet Child O’ Mine- Guns N’ Roses

Sweet Emotion- Aerosmith

Sweet Nothing- Taylor Swift

Time After Time- Cyndi Lauper

Timeless (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)- Taylor Swift

Tiny Dancer- Elton John

What A Time (feat. Niall Horan)- Julia Michaels, Niall Horan

When Emma Falls in Love (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)- Taylor Swift

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? - Arctic Monkeys

Wildflowers- Tom Petty

Wildflowers- Recorded at Spotify Studios NYC- Miley Cyrus

World Turning- Live 1977- Fleetwood Mac

You Make Loving Fun- 2004 Remaster- Fleetwood Mac

You Need To Calm Down- Taylor Swift

You’re My Home- Billy Joel

You’re So Vain- Carly Simon

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise- Elvis Presley

Playlist Master list

[helluvapurf]

*oop almost forgot to post* -BUUUT, looks like HB's second-half of S1's finale is finally here! 👀Lets talk about it~

Spoiler thoughts below for those who haven't seen it-

The Positives:

-The background & Gluttony ring setting were pretty gorgeous to look at, wonderfully sickly sweet & inviting with all the honeycomb/beehive aesthetics~

-Kudos to Kesha making a stellar guest appearance as "Queen Bee(-lzebub)"; a charismatic and charming party girl who turned out to have more of a heart when it all came down to it (making sure everyone was well-fed, nudging Loona to go look after Blitz, her tender side to Tex, etc.), what a vibe~ 😊

-Loona gets to shine again in a speaking role, and this time wasn't too overly-moody/aggressive, but more anxious and unsure of how to make friends with all these wild party guests (which I'm sure anyone could relate to, in some degree 🥺). Even getting to see her acknowledging more of Blitz as her dad was a nice touch (for the time being at least) ^^

-Nice to see Blitz arrive as he could to help out Loonie, even after he already had a stressful night from "Ozzie's" (+drank himself silly at Bee's party), his daughter's presence being there for him in the darkest parts of his life is what matters most, aww~ ☺️

-Tex gets to return as the best wolf bro that he is, and his lil moments with his girlfriend Bee (while arguably a bit overdone with the “royalty x commoner” theme, given some other HB pairs we got atm-) were still pretty wholesome on their own too~ 💛

The Negatives:

-As sweet as it was to see more of Loona's softer/vulnerable side (especially when tending to her dad at the end)... idk, it just makes me all the more crushed at how "Seeing Stars" just threw away that potential development out the window, so her & Blitz actually get along for once here isn't meant to "mean" anything in the long run… 😔*sighs*

-Pacing felt a teeeensy bit rushed/unfinished in some parts... like on one hand you have Bee's song running for a good chunk of time (like a standard iTunes single), but stuff like Loona's anxiety/rivalry with those snobby dogs at the party wasn't really addressed afterwards once Blitz entered the picture (opting instead for filler of him drinking/fooling around while Loona's just... kinda "there", up until they go home)? Idk, I kinda get in-hindsight why Viv had to make this a shorter ep, but in this sense I feel like just a few more mins added could've really enhanced the story a lil better.

-While the tonal shifts weren't... too clunkily-handled compared to some of S2's lineup, I'll admit there's some parts that could've used a bit of tweaking in the emotional bits imo (Like Blitz just abruptly throwing up after moping about his love life... while funny initially, it still makes one wonder if it really "needed" to be there, yknow?)

-Enjoyably catchy as a classic lil callback to the early 2000s!era of pop/clubbing music… after a few listens. "Cotton Candy" does feel a lil too long/repetitive in a couple parts, I'll admit .w.; Which… probably was the intention now that I think about it ('cause yknow, Gluttony-) buuuut, ye lol

-As much as I enjoyed seeing Tex & his friendship with Loona again... ehhhh, with her lowkey still seeming to have a crush on him (+her implied jealousy at Bee), I'm a bit afraid this might lead to some unnecessary love triangle bs if not handled carefully .x.; Since we already got enough of that with Blitz' love life atm, we really don't need more melodrama tbh >>

-Finally... yeaaaaah I know this is already getting kinda "debated" enough already in the fandom, but as far as my thoughts on Bee's design goes? ...Kiiiiiinda don't really know what to think still tbh- ^^;;

Like, okay there's parts I do genuinely love about it, like the bee-theming, the honey hair & lava lamp aesthetic (+the lowkey-callback to the "Die Young" wolf girl was a cute touch)... buuuuut then you get to the random canine-bod/blue tuft of hair that the design just loses me from there, I'm afraid glkjgk .w.;;

Again, I don't hate the canon Bee design overall, and I'm curious to see if she'll make any other reappearances down the line (even if they might need to recast her for budget issues like w/ Striker)... buuut idk, if I had to personally reimagine her myself I'd personally lean more to her being a cute bee demon imho .3.

-----------

-Aaaaand yeah, that about covers it for my thoughts regarding this ep! :> I'd say overall I'd give it.... hmm, a B-rank perhaps? (hehe bee pun-) .3. A lil heavy on the filler in some parts (and in the long run could arguably be one of the more "skippable" eps), but for what its worth it had some good vibing moments for me as a palate-cleanser to some of the "lesser" S2 eps, previously ^^ 👍

[screamingforyears]

MINI_REVIEW(s):

The review template of choice for the TL;DR Tribe…

//

‘FORFEITURE’ is the latest EP from @theendstx & it finds the DFW-based trio of Santiago Lara (guitar/vox), Carlos Echeverria (drums) & Jackson Douglas (bass/vox) bringing their Noise/IndieRock template across a 4-track spread that utilizes a quiet/loud sonic dynamic w/ aplomb as witnessed on closer “Honeycomb”

‘PORTAL’ is the official debut EP from @grdns_east & it finds the ever-prolific Vermont-based artist Tom Weir (@old_moon__) unleashing “a sound that is as equally suited to the dancefloor as to quiet reflection” across 4 euphorically blissed tracks that seamlessly pull from the swirling electronica, soothingly ambient & giddy house well as heard on opener “Denoue”

‘DEADFALL’ (@candlepin_records) is the latest LP from @rosevillelives & it finds Jake Lyon’s Fort Collins, CO-based effortlessly combining a triad of tried n true genre tags, ranging from twanged IndieRock to dreamy Slowcore to Pinback-esque AltRock as evidenced on the EMOtionally melancholic & slow-burning “Workhorse”

‘CONTENTMENT’ (@candlepin_records) is the latest EP from @stalledband & it finds the Chicago-based trio of Jack Curtin (guitar/vocals/organ), Dylan Flynn (bass) & Nate Whitcome (drums) finding that sweet spot w/ an absolutely killer sound that combines a guitar-driven mashup of moody SlowCore, balls out PostHardcore & nu_gazing SoftGrunge as witnessed on closer “Enid”

////

[goldenholi]

Chapter 16: Naivara Goes Home

A03 Link

8 chapters to go. ________

Celastrina decided they were having dinner together. Everyone.

Naivara felt uneasy about the concept, but her instincts tended to land her in trouble, so she kept her mouth shut about the whole thing. She spent the evening leading up to it helping Irene in the kitchen, sneaking bites of boiled potato when Irene wasn’t looking. They salted and seasoned and stuffed large pans into the oven, and a salivating scent settled over the home. Irene kept stopping her from peering into the oven.

All the while Lillimae flittered about, oddly quiet. Naivara didn’t consider herself a particularly savvy girl, but something about Lilimae’s expression gave her the sense that she was thinking. Intently. Naivara regretted telling her about everything that the trio had told her. She’d been quiet and moody and thoughtful, and that wasn’t the Lillimae Naivara had become accustomed to..

A knock sounded at the door.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Lillimae asked. “Or should I grab the crossbow?”

“Celastrina?” Irene called out. “Who is at our door?”

“Mahog,” Celastrina called back. “Let her in.”

Lillimae opened the door and there stood a woman that Naivara could only describe as Mallory’s double: same hair, same nose, same skin tone. Three dots along her cheek. She was tall, muscular, and wore a cloak reminiscent of the forest floor: fabric the shape of leaves, frayed edges, green dappled with brown. She smiled at Naivara.

“I am glad to see you in a better state,” Mahog said, and Naivara struggled to fathom how Mahog knew her.

“She brought you here,” Irene said. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Naivara said, edging out of the foyer. “Thank you so much, uhm….why are you here?”

“Celastrina summoned me,” she said. “Something about dinner.”

“It will be ready shortly,” Eudora called out.

“I will release them shortly,” Celastrina said.

True to her word, a few minutes later, Skipper was creeping down the stairs. Followed by Huxley. Mallory did not descend.

“What is all this?” Skipper asked, gesturing the table, where steaming vegetables and seared cuts of meat steamed, glistening under lantern light.

“Dinner,” Naivara said. “Celastrina wants us all to eat.”

“This isn’t a cult thing,” Skipper said. “Right? We won’t be stuck here forever, right?”

“It’s food,” Irene said. “No magic, no hexes, no curses, no games.”

Huxley took a seat and began helping himself, piling his plate.

“Where’s the other one?” Eudora asked.

“He smelled food and decided he’s staying upstairs. Said it’s probably cursed.”

“I’ll handle him,” Mahog said, and she ascended the stairwell.

Lillimae ushered Skipper to a seat. Naivara forced herself to sit. Then Irene, then Eudora, and eventually, Mahog returned, a sour faced Mallory in tow. She pulled out a seat for him and he begrudgingly sat himself.

“Eat,” Irene said. “We did not prepare all this for you to sit there and starve.”

“I’ll eat when I want to,” Mallory said. “So what is all of this for?”

“Just eat the food,” Lillimae said.

“I know you,” Skipper said, and Lillimae shot her a death glare.

“No,” Lillimae said. “You don’t.”

“We should do introductions,” Irene said. “I am Irene.”

“I’m Eudora.”

“I’m nunya,” Lillimae said.

“I’m Skipper and I know you’re not Nunya,” she said. “I know it.”

“I am Huxley,” Huxley said. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

“I’m Mallory,” Malllory said. “Let’s get the ball rolling. I want to go home.”

“This is insane,” Mallory said. “Are we seriously considering this?”

“Completely,” Skipper said. “It’s worth it. I want to give it a shot.” “It’s crazy,” Mallory said. “This plan has more holes than a honeycomb.”

“Look, it may have a lot of holes,” Lillimae said. “But what’s the alternative? Same old, same old? Are you happy with that? You have a shot at something new. Something honest. Just think on it.”

“I’m not uprooting my life on a whim,” Mallory said. “And it isn’t just my life. Thank’s, but no thanks.”

“Think on it,” Lillimae said. “Float the concept.”

It was decided that Naivara would go home the next day, at sundown.

The next morning, she wandered through the forest with Lillimae. Naivara wore the clothes she had arrived in (which now felt much too tight) and subjected herself to generally uncomfortable circumstances: laying on some unpleasantly moist dirt, wading through knee-high, prickly grasses, and most importantly: Lillimae shoving her around with a scarf tied around her eyes.

“I don’t like this!” Naivara squealed, the ground tapering into a slope.

“You’re fine,” Lillimae teased.

Her ankle rolled and Naivara crumpled, tumbling down a very small hill. She thudded against the earth, pebbles digging into her skin.

“Lily!”

“Sorry,” Lillimae said. “But look! Now you’ve got that ragged, abandoned and left to die kinda look.”

Naivara ripped the blindfold away, infuriated. Before she could speak, Lillimae teetered, then flung herself down the incline.

“Lily!”

“And now,” Lillimae groaned, peeling herself off the grass. “We are even.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Naivara said.

“For you?” Lillimae asked, dusting the dirt off her chest. “I’ll throw myself down a hill or two.”

“Only two?” Naivara asked dryly. Lillimae leaned in, and heat caught between them like a humid summer.

“I’d do it three times,” Lillimae said. “Four, even.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” Naivara said.

“I can handle a fall,” Lillimae said. “I’m like a cat. Nine lives or whatever.”

“You aren’t a cat,” Naivara said. “You don’t have nine lives. Don’t pretend you do.”

Lillimae rolled her eyes. She flipped herself onto her back and laid in the grass, blowing out a burst of air that grumbled and bumbled against the skin of her lip.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lillimae said.

“Yes it does.”

“Can you drop it?”

“I care about you,” Naivara said. This upset Lillimae, though Naivara couldn’t fathom why.

“Of course you care,” Lillimae muttered. “Of course you give a shit now that you’re leaving forever.”

“Lily-”

“I am going to miss you,” Lily said. Her voice was flippant, laced with insincerity. “I hope you get the guy and get away from Atlas and go far, far away and have a bunch of babies and live happily ever after.”

Naivara balled up the blindfold in her fist and threw it at Lillimae, who didn’t so much as flinch. Her eyes were locked on the sky.

“Do you want to end today on a bad note?” Naivara asked. “That’ll be awkward. Given the plan.”

Lillimae rolled her eyes and flipped onto her side. Naivara felt a familiar insecurity weedle into her skin. She couldn’t stand this, staring at Lillimae’s back, so she stood up. Her throat was dry. Her skin felt clammy.

“Are you upset with me?” Naivara asked.

Lillimae didn’t speak. Just reached out, plucked a dandelion from the grass and debated if she could blow off all the seeds in one go.

“Is it dumb that I miss you?” Lillimae said. “You haven’t even left. It’s like you’re already gone.”

“I’m literally right here.”

“But soon you won’t be.” Her voice teetered into a croak. “Soon you’re going wind up far, far away and you’re going to forget Raaian and everyone in it.”

“Lily,” Naivara said, crouching down. “I won’t forget Raaian. I won’t forget you.” She tugged Lillimae onto her back.

“I’m not trying to be a dick,” Lily said. “But you did forget me.”

Naivara paused, unsure of what to say. She sat herself down, leaned back into the hill and gnawed on her lip.

“I let you go because I had to,” Naivara said. “Because I was afraid. But I did think of you.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Lillimae said, and Naivara became hard edges and slants.

“A few days after Atlas proposed,” Naivara said. “We were having dinner and Skipper mentioned you. She said you scaled the perimeter and left town. By yourself. And that night I went to Atlas and asked for him to go look for you. He told me that ‘leaving town’ didn’t mean leaving. It meant suicide. And I didn’t know that word, so I asked what it meant, and he said that it was setting yourself up to die. I spent the next month and a half praying that somehow, someway, you were sabotaged. So forgive me for caring about you hurting yourself. Forgive me for disliking you acting like you have nine lives when you have one.”

“You were my friend, Lily,” Naivara said. “My one friend. The person I loved, the person I missed, the person I hated, the person I was jealous of, the person I wanted to scream at and laugh with and cry over. I wasn’t brave and I wish I had been, because I wish I could have known so I could have have tried to stop you from ever so much as looking at the forest. But I didn’t know. And I carry that regret with me. I’m so sorry, Lily.”

Lillimae was silent. She twirled the dandelion between her fingers, back and forth. Her silence irritated Naivara, who grew incensed, her cheeks warming the longer Lillimae spent stewing.

Lillimae blew on her dandelion. The seeds fell away effortlessly, every last one of them.

“What did you wish for?” Naivara asked dryly.

“For Atlas to up and die,” Lillimae said, creating a slip-knot with the stem.

“What did he ever do to you?” Naivara asked.

“He married you,” Lillimae said, her tone acidic. Naivara’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Her eyes crinkled, her lips pouted, Naivara was genuinely confused, and Lillimae could have died. Lillimae could handle anger. She could handle disgust, or disappointment, or disbelief, but confusion? Confusion required tact and Lillimae had about as much tact in her as a pestle.

“What?” Naivara asked. “I’m confused.”

“I hate that Atlas married you.”

“Why? Did you want to marry him? Do you have history?” She gasped. “Did you sleep with him too?”

“Did he cheat on you?”

“Yes,” Naivara said.

“Again,” Lillimae said, tossing the dandelion stem aside. “I hope he drops dead.”

“Why are you mad he proposed?” Naivara asked. “If you didn’t know him. If you never crossed paths. Why is it such a sore spot?”

“I’m going to give you a minute to think on that,” Lillimae said.

For a short while they were deadlocked: Naivara thinking, Lillimae mortified as she was bemused. Naivara was either oblivious, stubborn, or unable to utter the words. So Lillimae flattened her expression and told herself that if nothing else, this chapter of her life would slam shut and be forgotten.

“Beyond the fact that Atlas is scummy, unkind, and irritating,” Lillimae began, “I loved you. I wanted to be with you. And him proposing took that away.”

Naivara stared at her, her eyes large. Doe-like. She was so damn pretty. Always had been, but the admiration wasn’t the pleasant warmth of childhood infatuation anymore. That time had passed. It was a small furnace charring the edges of Lillimae’s heart. She feared that by the time Naivara was gone, her ribcage would collapse in on itself.

“Seriously?” Naivara asked. Lillimae took offense to her tone.

“Yes,” she said.

“...why?”

“Oh skies, don’t make me spell it out.”

“I just don’t get it. I was boring.”

“You were not boring,” Lillimae said. “You were calm.”

“I was sad all the time.”

“So was I.”

“I had nothing to offer.”

“First of all, we were kids,” Lillimae said. “Secondly, you were nice. And kind. And your Dad made us pancakes and I liked looking at you.”

“You did?”

“Yes!” Lillimae exclaimed. “I still do!”

“I’m...I’m nothing to look at,” Naivara said, and Lillimae felt something snap inside of her.

“I don’t know if it was the Brickson’s or Atlas or someone else,” Lillimae said. “But somebody went out of their way to convince you that you were no better than dirt under their heel, and they were wrong. I wish I could have been around to convince you otherwise because you deserve so, so much better.”

Heat caught between them. Lillimae balked at the realization that she had crept far too close whilst speaking but was too stunned to move. False. She had crept close and now she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to recede. Naivara was just staring. Thinking.

“I wish I’d known,” she finally said. “We could have been good for each other.”

“Yeah,” Lillimae said. “I could have set the bar real high.”

Naivara didn’t consider herself clever, but she understood the formula of an innuendo. She felt hot. Like a cup of tea. This new perspective was seeping into her and she wondered why she had never put the pieces together. Why she had been so blind to Lillimae’s affection? Why couldn’t she parse out the signs? Why hadn’t she ever considered that it was possible?

Women couples existed, but...well, Atlas didn’t respect them much. The Brickson’s didn’t either. Killian often brought up how it wasn’t right for a women in Raaian to opt out of the ‘proper’ path of having children and a family, because it deprived Raaian of its most valuable commodity: people. Something about dwindling population. He taught that it was dishonorable to for two women to pair off and it had colored her perspective, blotted out an opportunity that stared her in the face. Something real and raw, that Lillimae felt down to her core and neither of them had been brave enough to face.

Lillimae was so close. Her breath tickled Naivara’s skin. She wondered if maybe, through some awful fluke, she had forsaken Lillimae in favor of a cold, cruel, calculating boss. She had thrown her lot in with a man who wanted little more than to use her. There, sitting at the foot of a hill, Lillimae so close that the heat caught between them, Naivara felt her heart beating, drowning, and being stoned all at once.

She never knew she had the choice to love Lillimae. There were a lot of choices she never thought were possible. That she never realized she could make.

“How?” Naivara asked. Lillimae locked eyes with her.

“How would I set the bar?”

“Yeah,” Naivara said, leaning in. “What would you do?”

Lillimae was so damn pretty. Naivara had never been able to admit it before, but now, now she could say it: Lillimae was so very beautiful. She had pretty eyes and a pretty nose and pretty hair, and she had nice shoulders and Naivara tried not to pay attention to breasts but she had nice breasts too, and why had she spent so much of her life convinced she couldn’t even think these things?

Lillimae closed the distance.

(Kissing, Naivara decided, was pleasant. She hadn’t seen enough people do it, so she always thought that it was pursed lips against pursed lips. That was not pleasant in the least. Lillimae giggled, a deep sound that sank into Naivara’s stomach, then adjusted herself accordingly: she suckled on Naivara’s upper lip and Naivara realized it wasn’t about pressing. It was about the gentle, easy friction. About the way Lillimae crept closer, and closer, until Naivara was against the forest floor. About the way one of Naivara’s hands settled where they liked, and she didn’t have to think: not once, not twice.)

(Lillimae did indeed set the bar.)

They returned to the house appropriately disheveled. Eudora frowned at her, asked if Lillimae had dragged her through the mud. Lillimae said she shoved her down a hill, which earned her a smack from Eudora, which resulted in Irene admonishing them both. Mahog sat idly on the porch, Mallory slouched beside her.

“You need a story for the jewelry,” Eudora said.

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

Naivara tugged off her bracelet, and the ring, then tucked them into her pockets.

“He won’t find out,” Naivara said, and that was the end of it. She hugged Irene. She hugged Eudora. And then she hugged Lillimae, who smelled like bliss and held her with an easiness that made Naivara feel whole.

“Are you ready?” Mahog asked. Naivara nodded.

“I’m ready,” she said.

It began at sunset. The Sutero had yet to take over their shift, so when a guard spotted movement, he took aim and fired: halfway to its target, the arrow burst into kaleidoscopic petals that fell gently to the earth. He fired again, and this arrow burned to a crisp in the air. Baffled, the guards took a moment to peer intently at his target, then gasped.

Mahog. And behind her: Naivara. Men flung themselves over the perimeter. By the time the shock factor had tapered off, someone had given her a blanket and was guiding her home by the small of her back. She was back. Everyone kept saying things like “poor girl” and “are you alright?” or “where did you get taken?” Naivara kept her head down. It wasn’t until she made it to the Grove that the act became reality: she didn’t want to be seen. She didn’t want to be coddled. She was just tired, and sad, and needed to go upstairs.

She picked out the sound of his foot steps before he ever reached the stairwell. She waited patiently, fully aware of what he wanted: a show. So she sniffled, and swiped at her eyes, and when she knew he was there she looked up at him. He was bedraggled. His hair was unkempt and his outfit was plain, which gave her pause because he was always, always concerned about appearances. He closed the distance and pulled her into a hug: black spots mottled her vision. She wrapped her arms around his middle. He was unpleasantly warm. He smelled stale.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he said.

Naivara leaned into his side. Everyone let them retreat without a fuss. When they were out of the patron’s line of sight, Naivara shoved him away from her and made a bee-line for her fathers room. She jiggled the door knob and faced him, furious.

“Open it,” she ordered.

“Naivara,” Atlas said, his tone grave. “Naivara-”

“Open the fucking door,” she said. “Or I’ll run downstairs and tell them everything.”

He unlocked the door on her behalf.

“I’ll be upstairs in five minutes,” Naivara said. “Run a bath for me. I feel disgusting.”

She let herself into her fathers room and shut the door on Atlas. She pulled her hair out of her face and tried not to look like she had been dragged through the mud, but her father threw open his arms and she all but barreled into him.

“I’m so, so happy to see you,” Savan said. “So happy.”

“I’m okay,” Naivara said. “I’m okay, I’ll explain everything soon, this-” she gestured to herself, “-this isn’t what you think. I promise. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Hold onto these for me,” Naivara said, slipping him her bracelet and ring. “I’ll come back for them later. If anyone asks they are yours, a gift for me.”

“Naivara-”

“I have to go,” Naivara said. “I love you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going back to him,” he bemoaned.

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “I promise. I love you.”

Upstairs, Naivara found Atlas in the bathroom. He picked out a towel and a night-dress on her behalf. She took the towel and ducked behind a folding screen. He sat on a stool, gritting his teeth.

“You don’t smell right.”

“How should I smell?” Naivara asked, peeling off her shirt.

“You smell like bliss,” Atlas said. “Did you have fun out there?”

“I don’t know,” Naivara said. “My memory is oh so fuzzy. What with being kidnapped by the fae.”

“Naivara,” Atlas said. “I will do whatever it takes to make this right.”

“Will you?” Naivara asked.

“I will,” he said, but she understood that this was no acquiescence: he would give and give and hope it enough to tip the scales back into his idea of normalcy. Into the ugly way things had been before.

“I’m going to take a nice bath,” Naivara said. “When I’m done, I’m going downstairs and spending the night with my father.”

“I’ll join you.”

“Did I say ‘we’?” Naivara asked.

“Naivara…”

“Let’s create a rule for ourselves,” Naivara saidl. “I won’t talk about my time in the forest if you don’t encroach on my privacy. Sound fair?”

“Naivara, we’re a couple. It’s only appropriate we’re seen together.”

“Then we can be seen together tomorrow. Tonight I want to just clean up and go to bed. Give me the key.”

“We have a bed.”

“Atlas,” Naivara said. “I’m sure that if I fooled around with someone in our bed, you wouldn’t be too keen on sharing it with me.”

“It was an honest mistake-”

“You can handle my absence,” Naivara said. “Consider tonight a breather. I’m back. Tomorrow we can pretend to be in love and go out and smile and talk and convince the whole damn town that really, I’m fine. We can tell folks whatever you want. Anything in mind?”

He rubbed at his face.

“I was thinking a cursed necklace,” Atlas said. “Blame it on the jeweler.”

“Is he long gone?”

“Of course. Only came up by request in the first place.”

“Sure,” Naivara said. “Look away.”

For once in his life, Atlas obeyed, tilting his head back to face the ceiling. She settled into the bath.

“What else?” Naivara asked.

“That’s it,” he said. “Haven’t thought of much else.”

“I’ll say that I was locked in a cocoon,” she said, lathering her hair. “I only escaped because the hag wandered too far, and Mahog found me. Fair?”

“Fair.”

“Great,” she said. “You can go. Leave the key on the counter.”

Atlas disliked her tone. The hag had rubbed off on her. He had his hand on the doorknob when he glanced back at her, and saw mottled bruises along the slope of her shoulders.

“Naivara,” he said. “You’re all bruised.”

“That I am, Atlas.”

He opened up a drawer and tugged out an ointment.

“I have something for bruises,” he said. He opened it, and before Naivara could object he was on his knees, applying a waxy ointment to her back. The heat of the bath collected behind her eyes.

“You did that,” she said, her voice unsteady. “When you threw me.”

“I didn’t throw you,” he said.

“You had me over your shoulder,” she said. “And you flung me against the basement floor.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to?” Naivara asked, infuriated with herself for crying. “Stop it. Just fucking go, Atlas.”

“Naivara…”

“Go!” She screamed, and that was enough to drive him away. He dropped the key on the counter and slipped away.

When Naivara was clean and dry, she went to her fathers room. The key irritated her skin, it stung, like the edge of a hot knife. The key fumbled to the floor and she was fully in tears, trying not to scream, when someone crouched down and stuck the key into the lock.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Mason said.

“Nice to see you too,” Naivara said, her words laced with the steadyness of a pot boiling over. “I’m sorry, it really is nice to see you, I just-”

He hugged her. His embrace was unlike any hug she’d had before. He held her like she would slip out of his arms, as if by holding her he held himself together. A sweet, floral scent clung to him. She couldn’t resist breathing it in.

“I’ll leave you be,” he said, releasing her. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Thank you,” Naivara said. “I’m so glad too.”

“We should talk,” he said. “Soon.”

“Soon is dangerous,” Naivara said. “How about we settle for eventually?”

“I dislike eventually,” he said. “But I’ll take it.”

“I don’t need to stir the pot anymore than I have,” Naivara said, twisting the doorknob. “Goodnight, Mason.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

The key burned in her palm. Once inside, she tossed it on the counter and collapsed in bed, squeezing into the small spot that her father had created by scooting to the edge of bed. She used his chest as a pillow and shut her eyes.

“You aren’t staying with him,” her father said. “You can’t.”

“I won’t.”

[jaihoblindsandshutters]

Classic Blinds and Shutters - Classic Window Treatments

When it comes to classic window treatments, there are many options to choose from. The right choice will help you create a cohesive look and feel in your home while also providing light control and temperature regulation.

From cordless roller shades to woven wood blinds, there are tons of styles to choose from. We also have new and more energy-efficient blinds that can save you money on your utility bills.

Shutters

Window furnishings can be a great way to update the look of your home. Classic blinds and shutters are two popular options, both of which come in a variety of styles.

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Wood Blinds

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These window coverings are available in a variety of types and designs. When choosing blinds for your home, think about your personal style and the room you’re decorating.

For example, plantation shutters can be customized to match your interior window casings and moldings for a seamless feel. Faux wood blinds are also an option that can complement your home’s decor.

If you’re looking for something that is durable and easy to clean, faux wood blinds might be a good choice. These window coverings are made from a composite of man-made materials and natural wood particles, which make them less expensive than real wood blinds. They also offer a wide range of colors and are more resistant to warping than real wood blinds.

Sheers

Sheers are a timeless option that can be paired with any style of decor. Their soft, flowing look can create a romantic ambiance and add a hint of glamour to any space.

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Sheer curtains and blinds are a great way to achieve light filtering in your home without sacrificing privacy. Sheer window treatments also reduce energy costs and keep your home cool in the summer by allowing a breeze to enter the room.

Shades

Blinds, shutters and shades are all window coverings that allow you to control the amount of light and privacy. They come in a variety of materials and styles to fit any decor and budget.

Compared to blinds, shades are a category of soft window treatments made from fabric that roll up or down with cords. They can be shaped and looped to create soft folds or flat folds for an elegant look, and room darkening liners are available for maximum opacity.

Shades come in a wide range of fabrics, styles, and textures. They are also easy to operate by cords or a pull cord, and some are motorized for the easiest operation at the touch of a button.

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[publicabsent]

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒.

𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘. constellations, periwinkle blue, beaches with blue & pastel sunsets, looking through telescopes, salt in their hair, flowing dresses, insomnia

𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘. pink & red hearts, the feeling of being surprised, chocolate, love at first sight, waking up late, smiling at everything, kindness

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇. obsessed with avocados, picking flowers, bikes, long walks in nature, running through dark green grass, avocado toast, moody

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋. daffodils, spotted robin eggs, pastel tones, fluffy bunnies, always finds bird nests, flower crowns, waking up to tweeting birds, cute doodles, early riser

𝐌𝐀𝐘. light green plants, running through fields, enjoying the view, eats healthy, laying in the grass, succulents, minimalistic

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄. gloomy weather, trips to the ocean, swimming in the pool, clouds, laughing with friends, getting excited when it’s overcast, crashing waves, intelligent

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘. swimming in the ocean, fast driver, exotic fish, salty hair, dark blue water, free spirit, blue jeans, snorkeling with fish, forever young

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓. sunflowers, yellow shoes & hoodies, sun shining through a window, honeycomb, sun child, surprising friends for no reason, happy

𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑. notebooks, brown rocks near a pink tinted ocean, clean bedsheets, sugared waffles, brown buildings, oil paints, vanilla candles, always tired

𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑. pumpkin flavored desserts, monarch butterflies, pumpkin spice, loves scaring people, spiced cider, fallen leaves, dramatic

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑. cinnamon rolls, large sweaters, knitted socks, autumn scented candles, homemade meals, crackling fire, warm hearted

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑. decorating cookies, hot chocolate, makes the best food, gives the best hugs, the supportive friend, wrapped presents, mature

[cosmichoneyedblossoms]

Vintage Yellow Yunho

[innovacancy]

Puscifer House of Blues, Boston, MA 28 June 2022 Click below for live review!

“Life is short. Create something with every breath you draw.” So goes the slogan for Puscifer, one of the longtime projects of Maynard James Keenan, and the only musical endeavor of his where he is technically the sole permanent member.  Keenan, first known for his roles as the vocalist of prog- and alt-metal titans Tool and A Perfect Circle, has by all accounts taken this philosophy to heart both on- and off-stage: not only is he the lyrical head of three bands, he’s an accomplished martial artist, and also heads up two different wine labels from the precariously-placed plateau that is Jerome, AZ, counter-intuitively wrenching ichor from the notably-harsh environs of the American southwest.

Fresh from a tour with Tool on the back of that band’s first album in many years, Puscifer are back at it after their own years-long break, hitting the road with the LA-based noise-rap outfit Moodie Black.  That three-piece, headed by Arizona native Kristen Martinez, starts a trend for the night by incorporating a projection screen in their performance, which by the end of the performance Martinez has torn down and wrapped around her like a fallen flag.  Puscifer goes even further in their transformation of the space, two TV-shaped screens mounted in the rear of the stage, and a scaffolding big enough for two people supporting a craning, complex lighting array that protrudes out from the very back wall.  There’s also a host of seven-pointed, honeycomb-style LEDs surrounding the stage.

More stunning than the technological setup is the central role Keenan plays in the pageantry that ensues over the course of the evening.  While he’s always opted for various costumes (or varying degrees of undress) across all his bands, Tool shows typically see Keenan take a position far from the crowd, crouching low and oscillating back and forth in shadow, as if channeling a particular energy.  Puscifer, the super-ego to Tool’s id, couldn’t be more different; as Keenan’s most freeform project it finds him often at the lip of the stage, fully in character as neurotic g-man Dick Merkin, face heavily made-up and hair gratuitously gelled back.  Keenan has played many characters throughout the Puscifer years, often with a country flair in keeping with the project’s jokey, parodic origins (see: ‘Cuntry Boner’).  But the shift to black suits and bald-capped alien agents isn’t totally out of the blue, as not only do Roswell and Area 51 call the southwest their home, but Puscifer itself has grown from a band issuing records called V is for Vagina into a project where Keenan expresses his winemaking-inspired reverence for nature, and now his thoughts on the chaotic state of the world, which he explores readily on their latest project, Existential Reckoning.

While the subject matter has gradually become more serious, Keenan has done anything but dispense with his sense of play in the stage show of this auteurial project – there’s just a few less ten-gallon hats milling around.  Keenan is joined onstage by longstanding Puscifer “Agents” Carina Round, Mat Mitchell, and Gunnar Olsen. Mitchell, in charge of synth and guitar, shaped the sonic direction of Existential Reckoning, and Round – present from some of the earliest days of the project – has always acted as a venerable vocal foil for Keenan, as well as a lead actor in all the choreography that takes places throughout the night as the band winds through all twelve tracks from Existential Reckoning.  Round supervises as, after the second song of the evening, a group of emaciated agents hoist from the photo pit an “onlooker” – dressed as one of Maynard’s other Puscifer personae -  who is recording the set on his phone, an act which has been strictly forbidden for the evening by the historically camera-averse Keenan – though his permission of professional photography suggests – as do the many signs posted around the House of Blues – that the issue is more with people abdicating their experience of the show for the sake of documenting it in terrible quality.  The aliens hoist the tan-suited figure backstage where, if the pre-show video featuring Dick Merkin is to be believed, he will be promptly recycled into America’s most ubiquitous mystery meat.

Throughout the night, Keenan and Round perform all sorts of interlocking dance routines, both in the foreground of the stage and up on the scaffolding, the layout of which can be seen prominently in the band’s live video for ‘Bedlamite’.  During the thrilling ‘Apocalpytical’ they emerge from backstage wearing chest-plate-mounted microphones underneath their suit jackets, allowing them to move freely and control the mics solely with their center of gravity. They keep them on for ‘The Remedy’, the arrival of which elicits elated cheers from the crowd.  Both perform a series of robotic dances at different times, and Round is joined in a line by the thinly-veiled alien agents, who at other junctures come to the forefront with Geiger counter-like devices and squabble as they search for something unnamed.  After a second interlude – afforded to the band by pre-taped screeds in which Merkin alleges that nearly every famous person, including one Maynard James Keenan, are of extraterrestrial origin – Keenan returns as Billy D., the foul-mouthed, tan-suited figure who was so disreputably impersonated earlier in the evening. Billy D. notably has whiskey tumbler in-hand at all times, and during a few songs of this pseudo-encore segment the g-men – now fully transformed into aliens – come to the stage and refill the vessel with Maker’s Mark.  Round also has by this point traded her tailored duds for an all-black Victorian-era dress, and further changing the atmosphere of the evening, for the title track of Conditions of My Parole Keenan sings into a megaphone, a technique he’s often employed with Tool that lends a unique texture to the song.

Before the evening is over, Keenan discusses the plans for a few reissues, including the aforementioned V is for Vagina.  Feeling inspired, he leads the room in a chant of “Vagina!” as he walks across the stage, four times extending the mic in the direction of the audience and a quarter of the room shouting it on cue in turn. “Powerful stuff!” he quips before adding, “Some old fuckers kicked the hornet’s nest and they’re gonna find out…”, clearly in reference to the Supreme Court’s recent and tragic overturning of Roe v. Wade amid ruminations by Clarence Thomas that they aim to do far more damage in the future.  But ‘Bedlamite’ helps close the evening out on a somewhat optimistic note, with its pristine refrain that “it’s gonna be alright” – though speaking to Forbes Keenan acknowledged that it’s not a philosophy of inaction.  As a gesture of goodwill, he suspends the night-long cell-phone ban for this final cut, and as the song winds down he toasts the crowd from the top of the scaffolding, and fist-bumps Round on Mitchell’s final note.  The stage goes dark, but Merkin returns one time in a quasi-blooper reel, finding him playing a Bop-It! game with all the giddiness (and difficulty) of a small child.