#i don’t really go looking to learn more about musicians I love anymore… like I don’t know the names of the members

[athetos]

Honestly it’s no wonder my chemical romance broke up when they did. Making the Black Parade was a traumatic experience for everyone involved, as they recorded in a haunted studio and had mental breakdown after mental breakdown; they then proceeded to tour nonstop in heavy, disgustingly sweaty uniforms; they were accused of starting a suicide cult by the daily mail and blamed for a teen’s death; they then wrote an entire new album and scrapped it because it wasn’t good enough and the members couldn’t decide on a direction (those songs would later be released as Conventional Weapons); put out danger days and toured again nonstop, all while the members had various other side projects; like, if they didn’t break up, they would have beaten each other unconscious in the back of a van at that point.

What IS surprising to me is that they not only did they reunite, but that they put out a song quietly, with no fanfare, that somehow managed to be one of their best tracks yet, becoming one of the only (if not the only; that’s subjective for sure) reformed ‘00’s ‘emo’ bands that actually stands a chance of crafting albums just as good as their first ones.

[junislqve]

ᯓ million dollar — ot7

syn when the members spend their (unlimited) money on you. (1770 words)

pairs richboy!members + reader | cw mentions of money petnames — mlist navi

notes richboy members are having a chokehold on me lately

LEE HEESEUNG

“take as much time as you want, love”

earlier that day, you were scouring your closet for a decent dress. flipping through the same five for the past hour.

your boyfriend, grumbling about how you should get back to bed, watched as you pick up the same clothes. his eyes never leaving your figure, staring up at you through the mirror you were using to look at the picks.

heeseung slowly got up and hugged you from behind, burying his head on your neck. kissing your shoulder blades up to the back of your ear.

“do you need a new dress, love?”

after very few talking from heeseung and much more complaints from you, he somehow convinced you to get ready.

and that is how you’ve ended up in one of the famous streets in your city. lined up with the prettiest boutiques and malls.

heeseung wrapped his hands around yours and walked to a favorite store of yours. remembering how you’ve ever mentioned how badly you wanted to go back and buy something from it, months ago.

walking in, your small pout turned into the biggest, heart-pounding grin he’s ever seen. he bit his lip containing his own smile and dug out his wallet.

“spend it all on anything you want, baby”

PARK JONGSEONG

as a musician, looking at instruments is like strolling through heaven. admiring all the small intricate details engraved.

jay loved his guitars like it was his own child, he understands what it’s like to spend thousand and even more on just a single guitar. not that it would do anything to his bank.

you’ve never really asked jay for anything for as long as you’ve been dating. rather using your own money to buy whatever you want than letting your boyfriend buy it for you.

it wasn’t like jay didn’t want you to buy things using his card, he actually offers it most times than not. it was you who never lets him buy anything for you.

“use my card to buy the groceries, babe”

you refused to take his card whenever you could. because of this, jay has learned to pay without you knowing. usually when your back is turned or when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

right now, your boyfriend is tagging along with you as you browse through the island of pianos; ranging from yamaha to bluthner.

you stopped abruptly as your eyes fell on a piano that had you immediately captivated, from the design of the lid to the shape of the pedals, you thought it was the most beautiful piano you’ve ever seen.

when you were admiring the piano, trying out the keys and sitting on the soft cushion of the chair. you failed to realize your boyfriend had silently called the seller and slid his card. smiling down at your frowning figure.

“it’ll arrive by tomorrow morning, love”

SIM JAEYUN

“but you look so good in these, babe”

opening your apartment door with a click, the lights turned on to greet you with the copious amounts of packages laid on your living room.

the packages were of different sizes and stacked side by side. what’s worse is that you can’t remember buying all of the things you did, having to open up each package to know what and when you bought them.

you called up your boyfriend, who had brought in all of your packages earlier in the day when he paid a visit to your unit to pick up a small bag you forgot to bring.

“i seriously need to go on a ban”

“no you don’t baby, besides, you use my card when you buy anything” jake says, laying his head atop yours as he turned on a movie an hour ago to stop your fussing.

“that’s not the point, jake. i need to stop buying random things online. i can’t keep flooding my bedroom” you sigh.

“then just put the things you don’t like anymore in my apartment, you’ll have more space that way” jake smiles down at you, kissing your temples.

that was one week ago. somehow, he had convinced you to ‘accompany’ him on a late night rendezvous to prada. it was all fine at first when he was just looking at the suits. but now, he’s trying to convince you to buy two pairs of their new summer series glasses.

“i can buy this next time, babe” you finally say, sighing, after letting him talk about all the new luxury pieces of the summer set, desperately trying to talk his way into letting him buy you one.

“oh” he trails off, a sheepish grin creeping up on his face “about that, i’ve already paid”

PARK SUNGHOON

as a person who always loved the mountains, you find yourself spending weekends driving up one usually catching the sunset. this was already a routine even before you met sunghoon.

and now, you still kept up that routine whenever you weren’t too busy, your boyfriend always opting to tag along despite his complaints about being too tired. he wouldn’t actually pass up an opportunity to be with you.

you always loved traveling, within the city and during long holidays, out. liking the feeling of driving past the roads and seeing the scenery once the mountains come into view.

when sunghoon found out about this interest of yours, he started searching up for places with the most beautiful mountain sceneries. over the past years, he’s taken you to numerous countrysides and mountaintops inside and outside of the country.

even when you say it was fine if you were to only travel within the country, he loves seeing the way your eyes widen adorably during a gorgeous sunset that would rarely happen in-country. that’s why, the moment he tracks down a specific date that you both were going to be free for at least three days, sunghoon would immediately book a ticket to whatever country he’s been searching up.

on a random afternoon, sunghoon knocks on your bedroom door, walking in your apartment. as you open the door, there he stood with a big suitcase and that sweet smile of his.

“better pack up now, baby. we’re leaving in a few hours”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo knows you more than you know yourself, he’s quick to learn your body language and certain expressions you make.

it’s really hard to lie to him when he knows how to poke at you the right way to make you open up about your worries.

sometimes he just lets you have it, he knows you would at one point tell him about the things you’re going through. he trusts you on that.

but at times, he knows when you need a bit more of a cheer up. sunoo loves spending his money on you, buying you clothes, makeup, accessories. one of the things he realizes is that you love wearing jewelry. finishing up an outfit by adding a necklace or bracelets along your arm. that conveniently also accentuates your features.

he spends alot of time with you picking out sets for outfits you were going to wear for upcoming events. jewelry, he realizes is one of the things that can easily cheer you up, besides himself, of course.

so as the sweet boyfriend he is, sunoo dragged you to the jewelry store despite your sulks. and the moment your eyes laid on the glittering pearls, all of your problems seem to dissipate. just like how your boyfriend had expected.

with a giggle, sunoo starts asking the seller to bring out the full set for you to try on. patting you on the head as you continue to stare at the long rows of necklaces.

“buy whatever you want, okay? after this we can cuddle for as long as you need”

YANG JUNGWON

he would remember everything you’ve ever said to him. you like sweets? he remembers. you like flowery perfume? he remembers. you like that one specific lipstick brand that’s best bought in singapore? he remembers.

it’s not odd to get home to a bunch off boxes filled with gifts and food and random things whenever jungwon’s just went home from a trip anywhere.

anything you’ve said even before you two were dating seems to be engraved in his head like muscle memory. he can be strolling through a street market in japan and a small store would catch his eye, the next moment you would find his hands filled with keychains of a cartoon character you said you liked years ago.

his job requires him to fly countries often and it used to be a problem for you both as it means you can’t really meet him as much. but after years, both you and jungwon still communicate alot. him usually asking to facetime you at random hours of the day or night and sending you pictures of what he was doing.

both of you readjusted quite well to this arrangement and thankfully his work doesn’t demand a long period of time during those trips.

“babe there’s no way i can finish all of this by myself” you laugh seeing all of the things he bought you.

“then we can finish them together” he says, dimples peeking out through the smile “that way i can come by more often”

NISHIMURA RIKI

as days start to get more busy, you and your boyfriend find yourselves going on a short getaway to the outskirts of the city.

he showed up at your apartment one night and pulled you out of it with no explanation. you weren’t going to question him though, letting him take you wherever.

you both ended up on a train station, waiting for the last train to arrive. about an hour later, you landed on a small, but really nice accommodation.

the moment you stepped in the room, riki launched himself on the bed sighing in content.

“i want to live here forever” he mumbles out against one of the pillows.

“we both still have school tomorrow” you sat on the bed beside him, opening up your phone to continue the essay you were working on. only for it to be tackled down a second later, your boyfriend pulling you to lay down beside him.

silence filled the room, only yours and your boyfriend’s soft breathing. riki mumbled something against your hair. you hummed in question.

“let’s get room service” he says. you knew it was going to happen, it always happened. but here you are, sat on the hotel chair with too much food both of you know you can’t finish. he had a habit of buying you whatever he thought you’d like and it wasn’t like he’s wrong. the bowls of food on the table are all your favorites and you don’t even know where to start.

he really doesn’t spend much on things, but he loves going on little getaways with you every once in a while. sleeping on the comfiest beds (besides his or yours) and eating room service. something about it just brings a peaceful kind of silence for him.

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Reposting yesterday's fic because I accidentally published the first, highly unedited draft... it's Fine

Also, it's now on AO3!

Raine had been counting down to the Day of Unity all year, had burned the number of days and hours remaining into their mind, but somehow, it still felt like they should have had more time. Headquarters was in chaos, people calling out over each other, the air a mess of requests and worries. A blessed, momentary silence occurred when Katya dropped her tambourine— only for the panic to double as she realized it left her without an instrument.

“Can you play the bell cittern?” Raine asked. At her nod, they wove their way through the crowd to the back of the room where the beds lay, the only truly peaceful corner, where Eda was sitting with Luz.

“Eda, I was wondering if I could borrow— why do you have a box of toenails?”

Luz gave a muted laugh. “She was using it to hide this,” she said, holding up a log of blue wood.

“And the mystery of who depleted the Bonesborough Garden Club’s precious stash is answered,” Raine said, casting an amused glance at Eda. She winked, and they quickly turned their gaze back to Luz. “What are you going to carve?”

“I… don’t know. Eda taught me the basics, but…”

She was quiet for almost a minute before Raine realized she wasn’t going to finish the sentence.

“So,” Eda said finally, “what was it you needed?”

“Oh— I was wondering if Katya could borrow your bell cittern. Her tambourine was a… casualty of rushed preparations.”

“I’d love to say yes, but I don’t have it on me. I was so busy grabbing my fabulous toenails from the Emperor’s stash of all my stuff that I didn’t have time to look for anything else, and obviously I can’t just summon it anymore.”

Raine drew a circle in the air, and the bell cittern fell into their arms. It was Eda’s turn to look away.

“Right. I forgot that you still remember its magical signature.”

“Of course I do.”

I never forgot you, they wanted to say. I’m sorry for making you believe that I did. I’m so glad you never really believed it.

But the Day of Unity was in two days. There was no time for distractions or regret, only what needed to be done.

“Could you give it to Katya and make sure she knows what she’s doing?” they asked instead. “She’s a talented musician, but any bard worth their bile sack would still benefit from your expertise.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Eda’s lips. “You got it.” To Luz, she added, “Give me a shout if you need me, all right?”

The young human nodded, not looking up from her wood. Raine had a million other things to do, a million questions to answer, but for reasons they couldn’t quite explain, they found themself perching beside her, taking the spot Eda had vacated.

“You know, Eda taught me how to carve my palisman, too. Her dad taught her a few months before our class was supposed to learn, and she couldn’t resist passing on the forbidden knowledge.” They said the words in a low, dramatic tone, and were rewarded with a faint smile. “It still took me a while to figure out what I wanted, though.”

“That’s my problem, too,” she sighed. “Your palisman is supposed to represent your future, but for the last month, I haven’t been able to think about anything beyond the Day of Unity. I have no idea what my future is supposed to look like… or my palisman.”

“I get that,” Raine said, the words coming out a little more bitterly than they intended. To soften them, they added quickly, “but Eda told me that you both know about the portal the emperor has in the skull. As soon as we defeat him, we’ll take control of it. We’ll be able to get you home.”

Tears welled in Luz’s eyes, but they didn’t look grateful or hopeful. Just sad.

“Luz?”

She wiped her eyes. “I want to go home. I do. I miss my mom so bad, but… she made me promise, the last time I saw her, that when I went back, I would stay there for good.”

“What? But… you have a family here. It sounds like you two love each other a lot. Why would she want to take that from you?”

“That’s not how she sees it,” Luz said quickly. “It’s just… things are different in the Human Realm. You can’t do magic, or tell anyone about magic, and if you disappear or get injured by like… detention monsters or plants with fangs, that’s not normal. That’s not something you can explain.” She shrugged. “I want to be with my mom. I know she loves me, and I love living with her. But… that would also mean I couldn’t be a witch. There are no human witches.” She laughed quietly. “Besides the one who’s trying to kill everyone, I guess. What I’m trying to say is, the Demon Realm and the Human Realm… they’re what my teachers would call mutually exclusive. I have to choose.”

“That sounds a lot like Belos’s thinking, you know.”

Luz flinched, and Raine tried to make their next words as gentle as possible. “I’m not trying to compare you to him. I’m just saying, this whole business of needing to choose sounds a lot like what he’s been telling us all these years. That we can only take one path. That works for some people. But there are lots of people who can never fit into it, and they shouldn’t be ignored.”

Luz’s expression didn’t change, and they tried again.

“When I was born, I was given a set of words to identify me that didn’t feel right. For a while, I thought that meant I should go the opposite route, but that didn’t feel good either. What finally made me feel settled was choosing not to choose. To just exist, without any expectations or labels that would make people feel like they knew who I was before I got the chance to tell them.”

That made Luz let out a long breath, and something seemed to loosen in her when she looked up at them. “I get that,” she said quietly. “In the Human Realm, they have a lot of rules. A lot of people think you should stick with the identity you were born with. Follow the role they lay out for you. Love the people they want you to love. And like you said, that works for some people, but it never really worked for me. Getting to come here, getting to be away from that, it was nice, but… I never fully belonged here, either.”

“But you made your own way,” Raine told her. “Eda explained about your talent with glyphs. You found your own magic. I’d bet the Human Realm could use some of that, too.” “Glyphs don’t work in the Human Realm.”

“They wouldn’t work without you either. You are the magic I was talking about, Luz. You’ve done so many impossible things during your time here. What’s one more?”

Finally, she gave them a real smile. “You know, I think you’re the first person I’ve met here who’s just as sappy as me.”

They winked. “I can tell we’re going to be good friends. But only if you come visit from time to time.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Luz released a shaky breath and turned back to the wood in her hands. “Could you… show me how to round the top? Eda went over it, but I want to make sure I get it right.”

“Of course. Round, huh? Are you carving a chicken?”

Luz laughed. “You know, that’s sort of close. I’m going to cave an egg.”

“An egg?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know what I want my future to look like… or theirs. But I want us both to be able to choose.” She waved a hand at the maps on the tables and the banners on the walls, at the assembled revolution. “That’s what this is all about, right?”

A sigh of their own escaped Raine, the words snapping a tension they’d carried for so long they’d almost forgotten it was there. “Right.”

Years of subversion and sacrifice had led up to this. Raine had lost things, people, and parts of themself that they could never get back, all in the hopes of winning a single battle. And now that that battle was finally approaching, they worried they’d done too much, or not enough, that they wouldn’t win, or that winning wouldn’t be worth the cost. But beyond all those regrets, all those fears, was the simple truth that in two days’ time, the people of the Isles would be able to choose a future for the first time in half a century. It was enough. It had to be.

Raine placed their hand over Luz’s, guiding her knife to the top of the log. “Shave the wood away from you,” they instructed, “until you get a gentle sort of slope.”

Luz clenched the wood and the knife so hard that her knuckles turned white, but she made the first cut. “Like this?”

It was wobbly, uneven, less a the start of a smooth egg and more the top of a swirling orb. It wasn’t the way Raine would have done it.

“That’s perfect.”

[stewpid-soup]

VENT CW!! STAY SAFE!!

anyone else find it exhausting to just enjoy things?

I don’t want to support people or companies that are actively doing things that are bad (racism, homophobia, defending SA, etc etc). but it’s so mentally draining to look through all of this terrible shit and not be able to enjoy things bc of their creators or ppl associated with it

i mean, i don’t support dream. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. I don’t support dream or the dteam as a whole - but the dsmp was such a big comfort to me through quarantine, and even now i still love the storyline and the characters.

HP, well that’s self explanatory. JKR is just a shit person and i’m not gonna give her my money bc i enjoy the plot of HP. I just take fanon on its own for the most part. I own the books and the films already (my family loves HP and has for a long time, since before JKR was outed as a transphobe) so i don’t need to buy anything from her. HP was a huge part of my childhood and the thought of not interacting with any content related to it makes me so sad, because i still love it even now.

and as controversial as it may be, i’ve enjoyed hazbin and helluva boss for years now. it was another comfort during quarantine, and i watched it with friends and got to bond over it. i do not like vivziepop or support her, and it’s exhausting to see all this back and forth about her online bc it’s so confusing. I love these shows and it makes me so happy that I get to see hazbin come together after waiting so long, and the same goes for helluva boss. of course there can be improvements to the way vivziepop writes some characters, but i still love these shows so much. it hurts my heart to feel like i can’t enjoy the content because the creator is such a bad person.

and then the number of musicians i’ve had to stop listening to because they turned out to be shitty people. or actors i avoided watching content of because they’re bad people (especially when the list of ppl who support Israel came out- of course im not supporting anyone on there, but some of the ppl on there just rlly hurt my heart because ive enjoyed their content for so long)

i know there’s not really any way to avoid this, as people are complex and can be an asshole w/o you knowing. funding people like this isn’t something i want or care to do, so of course i actively avoid it. but I just don’t know what to do when it comes to this.

a friend told me that it’s sort’ve about picking and choosing things, because you never know what people are really like. they said that with the state of the world, it’s important to stay educated but don’t let shitty people get in the way of things you enjoy. i’m just at the point where i feel like i can’t enjoy anything because anytime i get stuck in a rabbit hole of content, i see people going back and forth about who should be cancelled and who actually isn’t a bad person. cancel culture is one of the worst things about the internet, and it just makes interacting with fandoms even more toxic than it already is.

ig this is just a rant talking about comforts i have that i feel like i can’t enjoy anymore because of cancel culture and just like..people being people? i’m just so tired of finding something i enjoy and then learning out that they are or possibly could be doing/supporting something bad and just— it makes me feel so guilty because i don’t want to indirectly/directly hurt anyone. i know what i believe in and what i do and don’t support, at least for the most part (still learning everyday atp), but it doesn’t make it any easier to part with things i hold so dearly in my heart.

does anyone else feel similarly? if so, what have you found that helps or at least is a comfortable middle ground?

idk bro, my life is so exhausting with everything i deal with in real life- so to feel like i can’t even find comfort in my silly little shows anymore is really depressing. my mental health is not doing well lmfaooo

[fangirlwriting-stories]

To Fluster A Noise

Summary: Noise is comfortable with flirting.  Compliments are another matter.

...

See, here’s the thing.  Noise loves to flirt.  He loves to tease, and (respectfully) argue, and despite what recent events would seem to demonstrate, he loves to be flirted with.

They just… might be a little more used to a different kind of flirting.  They had plenty of makeout sessions throughout the year when they were alone, and a couple one night stands, too.  Youngblood leaving counted as a breakup, after all, at least in their eyes.

But most of the flirting then involved playful fighting or trying to one up each other.  It hadn’t even really been anything Noise put a ton of emotion into, since most of what he’d been looking for then was a distraction, and he’d never asked any of the people he hooked up with for anything else.

Roman, on the other hand… let’s just say his flirting is different.

“Oh look at my sweetheart, you look amazing today Noise!” he coos over breakfast.

“Do you want to dance?  You’re so good at it, I want to learn from you!” he says with such a genuine grin that Noise can’t help but believe him.

“Oh you’re so remarkable, I can’t believe how lucky I am to know you,” he says as he holds Noise close.

And Noise… he cannot do this anymore, okay?  They like flirting with Roman.  They like being teased.  They cannot handle all of his compliments anymore.

He just doesn’t know how to bring it up.  He doesn’t want to say to Roman “hey can you not say nice things about me,” because… well, because…

Just because.

They’re going to have to say something eventually, though, because eventually Roman’s going to give them a compliment when they’re just Too Fragile, Period, and Noise is going to explode on the spot.

That moment actually comes a little sooner than he hopes.

They’re all camping in the woods that night, since the nearest town is a little too far away and they decided none of them were going to make it much further.  So now they’re all sitting around a campfire, eating the bird Noise managed to track down and cook.

And that’s when Roman pipes up with “Noise, this is so freaking good.  Seriously, you could be a professional cook, you’re amazing.”

Noise’s cheeks immediately warm, and they look down at their own food to hide their darkening purple cheeks.  “Oh stop it,” they mutter, trying to inject at least some playfulness into their tone.

Unfortunately, Roman decides to take the playfulness as a cue to keep going, and follows it up with, “No, really, if you weren’t already an amazing musician and performer, I’d recommend going into the food business.  Unfortunately, if I have to choose between your cooking abilities and your angelic voice and outstanding dance skills, well, I’d hate to lose an opportunity to dance with your fancy footwork.”

“Roman,” Noise whines, burying his face in his hands.

Youngblood, on Roman’s other side, laughs a little at that.  “What, that’s all it takes to fluster you?  You can dish it out but you can’t take it?  I don’t remember you being so easy to tease.”

“I’m not,” Noise grumbles, glaring over at Youngblood and counting on the darkness to hide the blush on their cheek.

“Well, all Roman said was, ‘You’re a good cook and an amazing musician and performer.’  Those sound like pretty basic facts to me,” Youngblood says with a small smirk.

Noise whines and looks away again.  “Stop,” they grumble, half-serious now.

Youngblood gives a short laugh.  “Why would I, when it’s so easy and so fun?  All I have to do is say that you’re good at things?”

“Seriously, stop it,” Noise snaps, glaring back at them both.

Youngblood shrugs.  “I’m just surprised it’s that simple—”

“Wait, Youngblood,” Roman says, putting a hand on Roman’s chest.  “I think they mean it.”

Youngblood pauses, and when they both turn to look at Noise again, he glares away.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Are you okay?” Youngblood asks, much more gently.

“We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Roman adds.

“You didn’t,” Noise says weakly.  “Or I mean you did, but… nevermind.”

“Hey, no, what’s wrong?” Roman asks, standing up and moving closer until he can sit next to Noise.  “If we’re doing something you don’t like then please tell us.”

Noise is quiet for a moment, then sighs.  “I’m just not… used to it,” they say.

“Used to what?  Teasing?” Youngblood asks.  “I find that kind of hard to believe.”

“Not teasing, obviously,” Noise says, rolling his eye.  “I… compliments.  Or, you know, genuine ones.”

Roman makes a wounded sound.  “No one’s ever complimented you?” he asks.

Noise shrugs.  “I mean, some people did,” they mutter.  “But they never meant it.  And most people just spat at me that I didn’t earn or deserve anything I had.  But you…” they look hesitantly at Roman.  “You say it like you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Roman says quietly.

“I’m uh, not good at affectionate stuff,” Youngblood mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.  “But I mean it too.  I wasn’t just teasing.  I wouldn’t say nice things about you I didn’t mean.”

Noise sighs, and turns to face them, his cheeks warming again.  “I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” he mumbles.  “It’s just… I’m not used to it, that’s all.”

“Do you… want me to stop?” Roman asks, sounding like he hates the idea even as he offers.

Noise laughs a little and looks up at him.  “No.  It’s nice.  Just, maybe slow down a little bit?”

“Gotcha, I can totally do that,” Roman says with a more enthusiastic nod.

“I don’t really compliment you as much as Roman does, but if you want me to slow down too, I can,” Youngblood says.

Noise snorts.  “No, you should give me more compliments, because I deserve it.”

Youngblood smiles a little too, but he sounds very genuine when he replies, “You do.”

Noise smiles a little back.  “Thanks,” they say quietly.  “But don’t make yourself uncomfortable either, okay?  I don’t… want something that isn’t you.”

Youngblood nods, seeming a mix of understanding and grateful.

“And you,” Noise says, leaning his head on Roman’s shoulder and shooting a grin up at him.  “You’re good.”

Roman beams at them.  “Thank you,” he says happily, leaning over and kissing Noise on both of their horns. Noise smiles and leans into him, then makes grabby hands towards Youngblood, who moves over to join them.

Roman leans over and gives them both a kiss on the forehead.  “I love you both,” he says.

Youngblood grumbles something quietly, and Noise laughs a little and squeezes him from the side.

“I love you too,” he says to Roman.

And as they all sit there for a while, Noise decides they could definitely get used to this whole “being loved” thing.  And maybe, if things keep going the way they are, they could get used to this whole “compliments” thing eventually too.

[phantalgia]

'And You'll Know We Have Many Roads To Follow'

I tried getting into contact with an old friend who wanted to reach out to me in 2023. I was excited, they were a person I really liked in the past and was, again, one of those moments where I failed and mucked it up. I liked them and they had a crush on me. But my self sabatoge got the better of me. And they found someone else.

All of it pretty much my fault and quite embarassing and immature, I faked being in a relationship so they could get away from me because I hated myself. I didnt think I was good enough. I was in a lot of pain because I liked this person and wanted to be with them. They really were right up my alley of the type of person I wanted to be around.

I spoke with some random person about this whole ordeal and he convinced me to actually give it a shot with this person. And I went yeah! I should, if it doesn't work out, so what! I learned something.

I can't remember what happened next but I do remember being too late. They were taken...I was devestated. And never really talked to them again until 2023 when I reached out to them and apologized for the things I did.

Months later they wanted to hang out with me, which was the thing that excited me. A rekindled relation that I could fix up. I tried to talk to them the best I could but I was really shy and scared...and again...I messed it up. I was too scared and we never hung out. This was in the middle of me dealing with Long COVID.

Eventually they just stopped talking to me, never responded to my DMs and was once again taken by someone else, the same thing happened again. I realized my usefulness wasn't needed anymore so I removed them and moved on.

'Somewhere, someday we might meet again Who knows which way we'll go?'

So we did meet again, but alas history repeats itself. We have many roads to follow, just not this road. There's quite a bit of pain, mostly self inflicted. But this hurt me a lot especially in a moment of self discovery and trying to reach out to people i care about that I lost.

And as you'll know we have many roads to follow. They all went down their own roads. I feel like just a blip in their lives. Insignificant. Or even malignant.

I don’t know where my road is taking me. It's just a mystery and it's a lonely one at that.

'Someday you'll be calling out my name and you won’t get answer'

I’m calling out for a lot of names. No answer. The regret and guilt I have today just is so much for me. These were some great people. And I think about them a lot. But my only wish now is for them all to live happy lives.

I think much of what aflicts me now, the struggles I’m dealing with now is just karma. I deserved this. I deserved this suffering because I wasnt aware that other people were also struggling and wanted to be around me. I shut them out of my life and now I have to suffer lonely...I never felt so lonely in my life.

No matter how many friends I now have it just doesn't fill this empty sensation I have in my chest that those people filled my soul. It's a very specific feeling that each one filled in their own unique ways. I really don’t think anyone can quite fill it. But I’m afraid of trapping myself in a situation where I’m taking for granted the current friends I have. Maybe they don’t fill my soul the same way those people did and that could be because those people felt more like borderline romantic relationships.

'Calling Out Your Name, Now We'll Get an Answer'

Maybe someone will answer. This doesn't have to be literally those people but the type of people I’m looking for. Or maybe I’m trying to have an impact on people's lives. I’m not sure.

I’m tired of this isolation. I’m really sure how to talk to people or find people I’m looking for. I just want something different and to make up for the damage I've done to people.

Final Comments on "Many Roads to Follow"

I love Cut Worms. One of my favorite musicians today. Many Roads to Follow just reflects on many people you meet and cherish and how for many of us just have new places we go to and we have to move on. The grief of losing those special people, and the hope that you'll meet those people again some day.

The song itself just sounds like a big road trip or journey. A celebration but also a mourning of what we once had and that maybe it's not over. And just the unpredictability of where we'll end up.

[erigold13261]

I can see the FRAU kids (Sayu crew, 1010 and Yinu) becoming like the kid from “Bitter Choco Decoration” by Syudou! it’s literally about killing your inner child and fitting into society’s expectations

English cover by rachie https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6G7ilxWNG9o

I do the things I do so I won’t be trusting, and so I won’t be loving, I’ll never hope for anything

Even then, I’ll go along acting very carefully

Ego never growing, I don’t want them to know me

And

Bitter choco decoration

I’ll kill my ego and my heart, and put them in the ground

Bitter choco decoration

I guess I grew up in the end, hey Mom, look at me now

OOF

Oh no this is a REALLY good song!

And you are definitely right about this fitting Yinu, Sayu Crew, and 1010. Though I would say in different levels with Yinu being the most fitting overall.

Like right off the bat, the title alone being "Bitter Choco Decoration" shows that you are only supposed to enjoy looking at the product, not actually savoring it (I don't me savoring in a weird way, but it's the best word I could come up with atm).

Basically a "look, don't touch" because once you get a taste of the substance/see the actual personality of the person, you will be disgusted, make a face, spit them out and walk away.

Yinu, Sayu (and the crew), and 1010 are just made to be looked at and enjoyed on a superficial level now. You aren't supposed to actually get to know them. They aren't supposed to be people anymore. Just idols and musicians for the world to faun over.

Because once you see the bitter personalities that all these people have, you aren't going to care about them anymore (like a parasocial relationship I guess).

One of the first things that stuck out to me was the lines "I do the things I do so I won't be hurting // and so I'm not a bully, I won't give in to murdering." To me these lines can be taken in 2 different ways, one that appeals to Yinu's character more and one that appeals to the Crew's characters more.

First is that Yinu is doing things to make others happy so that she can be happy with herself (mainly for her mom's happiness). She is literally not a bully at all, trying not to act spoiled but also sometimes has intrusive thoughts that she doesn't want to give in to.

Then there is the Crew who do what they want to make them feel better. This is them actually being bullies but they are in denial about them being bullies because it's all just "jokes" "pranks" and all in the name of "having a little fun" (usually at Yinu's or 1010's expense).

It's hard to really talk about all three of these groups because there is so much in this song, but they are all playing parts. The lines "I'll say a joke or two and // Talk in such a way that'll make you wanna' stay" is something I can see all three groups doing.

They are all acting in ways they think will allow them to survive. Some want to survive with a bit more happiness in life (such as Yellow, White, and the Crew) while others are content with just surviving with the bare minimum (Yinu, Green, Red, and Blue). Anything to make life a bit less hard, such as acting a certain way, is good enough for the most part.

The main chorus kinda twists my analysis of the title itself. Mainly appearing that the groups are the ones who have to eat the bitter choco decoration instead of being one. Mainly seen in the lines in the first chorus "Be sure to eat it 'till it's gone and don't you say a word" and "A picky eater through and through you still have much to learn."

These lines do add to my point that these characters are putting on a show (both for the public and their coworkers) at being good little souls. But it's an uncomfortable situation for them, similar to having to eat bitter medicine. The only difference is that medicine is good for you while the choco decoration is for show and has no real substance to it. It's not helping them to put on this play and hide who they are, but if they act like a "picky eater" then they are acting more like children and have to learn the ways of adults.

Even the end of the first chorus and end of the song show that these characters can't talk to others like adults would. They will try but realize they aren't able to properly say what they want or are looked down on and end up saying "never mind" and hold their tongues.

After the first chorus ends, I think that whole stretch before the very fast part shows a lot more of 1010 and maybe a bit of Yinu. Again, they are playing parts, but they are also making sure no one gets close to them. They are saying what people want to hear, basically trying to manipulate the people around them.

They are trying to make everyone around them like them to an extent so they can have more freedom and less pain. 1010 will "praise them very highly, admire all their qualities" so that they are "coming off politely" in the hopes of making life easier to deal with.

The problem with this though is that they are a ruined display basically. Like if Yinu is a lovely bunch of chocolate roses that are starting to melt and the Sayu Crew are some choco seashells with a few cracks in them, then 1010 are a broken pile of chocolate bits trying to be formed into something pretty.

They, specifically Blue, fucked up their chance at being seen as a beautiful display. Visually they can look okay, but everyone KNOW they are a bitter choco decoration. There is no illusion that they could be sweet and something to really enjoy.

Of course some people still see this display and want to eat it, loving it, but the people closer to the display find it disgusting and want to throw it in the trash. The only thing stopping them from doing so is Neon J ability to continuously make a semi-decent choco display that can trick people far away that this is still a desert to enjoy.

Now onto the fast part. A mix of all three groups can be found here. Each one are bound in their own prison that they participate in (both a prison made of outside sources as well as internal sources). Basically these characters can were made in a way similar to tempered chocolate, where a lot of precision and patience was put into making them the best thing for NSR. But now that that patience is wearing thin, these groups can't really melt so they are on the verge of snapping because of the pressure.

They were made to look good for the public, and now that is their prison. Just decorations for NSR that are going to be snapped and remixed until they are molded to the proper image. And once they are found out to be bitter, or are no longer appetizing, they are gonna be thrown away.

Like this can be absolutely seen in the line "They're gonna' leave you far behind, their art forever tainted." Like that line is literally what NSR is going to do to these characters. It's a huge prison that these characters are in, with lots of baggage and trauma that is going to chew them up and spit them out once the taste of bitterness become too much for the public and NSR to deal with.

The lines "Way back at the start, with dreams, I could impress // Now it's tossed aside, no one cares, no one obsessed" is another version of this that shows the downfall of NSR and these characters. They all started NSR with such high hopes. To have fun, get out of a shitty situation, to perform, to be loved. And now they are realizing that once no one cares or are obsessed with them anymore, they are going to be tossed aside.

The next few lines are also pretty important.

"Sometimes we say no but we're always meaning yes" shows how none of these characters are actually allowed to say "no" and even if they do ever say "no" then it's not going to be taken seriously. Not by Tatiana, not by Mama, not by Neon J, not by Eve. These characters just need to do what they are told and to not question it.

And when they do that, you get the lines of "'Hey, I gotta' say that today we were amazed. // Got a knack for things like that that could // Blow us all away'" where it's praising them for being puppets. I think this can be a type of "love bombing" where there will absolutely be times where someone (specifically Tatiana) will just give a shit ton or praise to any of these characters at random intervals to try and keep them content and happy with this line of work (yes Tatiana will even love bomb 1010, but it's a bit easier to see she doesn't mean it to them than it is when she does it to Yinu or the Crew, but 1010 don't care because it is a rare moment where they don't have to be terrified of her, so they accept this praise and continue to work).

The pretty slow part about "Love in season, give a reason... // Love in feeling, give a meaning... // F.U.C.K.Y.O.U" seems like a doubt each of these characters have in their heads. How they are supposed to show love in a certain way, or that there has to be a reason to receive love, otherwise there's no real meaning or feeling behind it.

They all have a part of them that does want to say "fuck you" to everyone and everything around them. Some of them say it to certain people (White and Yellow to the rest of 1010, the Crew to Yinu) while others haven't said it at all but are absolutely thinking it.

The last chorus is pretty much all of these characters giving up parts of themselves so that they are what is needed of them. They want to "be all that you need, [they] want to make it last" while throwing their feelings away ("burn it all away, [their] feelings into ash") and killing their sense of worth and self esteem (their ego) to bury it away in order to conform to the wishes of those older and in power.

"I guess I grew up in the end // Hey mom, look at me now!" is definitely a line that resonates with all of these characters in a certain way (though the word "mom" isn't the part to focus on, but a parent/guardian instead).

All three of these groups had to grow up in a weird way. Yinu went from a spoiled kid who got everything she wanted to a teen who thinks that if she doesn't take on all this burden and suffer silently then her mother won't love her or Mama will suffer on her behalf.

The Sayu Crew all have negative relationships with their older family members (both parental and sibling). They are all basically the breadwinners for each of their families and need to act like mature adults in order to keep their jobs and the minimal love that their families barely give to them.

And 1010, though they were never dolls in this AU, they had to "grow up" in a sense that they started from scratch with sentience. All they knew was war and fighting, and now they were thrown into a whole new environment where they had to act like lovable young adults for random ass fans.

The "Hey mom, look at me now!" line, to me, is less about actually calling to a mother figure, but to someone who raised you or showed you how to navigate life. These characters want that specific person in their life to take a look at them now and basically ask "are you proud of what I became?"

And for most of them, that answer is actually going to be no. Which would give a kind of closure to each of these groups because maybe then they can stop acting if they knew what they were doing wasn't what was wanted of them. But because they are so deep into this lie and play, they don't want to ask that question because if that person in their life ends up saying "yes" then they are forever stuck having to play that role until they slowly die.

And even if they die "Hell will always follow me, even when I'm dead" is a line that shows even death isn't going to set these characters free (which is why I think, as I stated in the "Nothing's Working Out" ask, Green is the only one who is okay with dying. These other characters know death isn't the option so they keep playing the game and pretending to be a perfect little choco decoration).

The line "Please, I wanna' feel like I did back as a kid" is the idealized past that all these characters think they have (or wish that they had in 1010's case).

"Not a single piece of clothing to cover what I did," to me, is a line about cutting or self harm. Something I don't think Yinu participates in at all (yet). Some of the Sayu Crew possibly have stuff to hide using clothing, and while 1010 don't have bodies that can scar, they do have their own self harm practices that, if they were organic, would need clothing to cover.

I don't know what to think of the last line (or like second to last line). Specifically the "Weren't you that preoccupi-" line. Because it definitely has some significance to the song, but I'm unfortunately not keen on to what it is.

Though honestly, the line before it "Hey you look familiar, though it's been a couple years," makes me think of a future where these characters get away from NSR and any shitty family situation but are recognized years later in the street. They are asked if they are who they were and end up shutting down that conversation in order to absolutely try and forget their past (they want to forget it entirely instead of deal with their trauma to try and move past it).

This song is overall really good and really fast. Mostly reminding me of Yinu with parts more heavily geared towards the Crew or 1010.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

249 of 2023

Are there any activities you enjoy doing, but can only do for a short amount of time before you get bored or tired of them?

No, typically I’m very ‘loyal’ to my passions.

Do you use Dropbox?

No, I’d rather not. I’m not a big fan of it.

Have you ever studied Freudian psychology? Do you believe/agree with any of it?

I’ve had psychology class in my university and Freudian psychoanalysis was a part of it, but it’s never been my favourite.

Are there any songs that remind you of falling snow? Or any songs that remind you of winter time but are not necessarily about that?

Yeah, Snowy London by Glass Delirium. And for winter time, The River Flows Frozen by Eternal Tears of Sorrow.

What was the last book you re-read? Are there any books you want to re-read?

I always re-read books, they’re like my best friends for me.

When was the last time you felt hopeful, and why?

Today, for my work.

Is there anything coming out soon (books, albums, movies, video games) that you’re looking forward to?

No, not really. I don’t actively follow anything.

How do you go about finding books/movies/music to read/watch/listen to?

I research recommendations.

What’s a band/musician you were really into for a while but who you don’t care about or hardly listen to anymore?

Can’t say, I like many things from the past. I’d go with Tokio Hotel, though XD I still like a few songs of them.

Have you ever gone on vacation and bought souvenirs for your friends or family?

Yes, I have. But typically I prefer to take them with me.

Do you find yourself asking for the same things for your birthdays and Christmas?

I never ask for anything.

Do you think you are more mature than other people your own age? Do you believe age defines one’s maturity?

Sometimes I’m more mature, and sometimes I’m less mature. I don’t want to kill my inner teenager, but generally I think of myself as pretty mature. I’m responsible for my work duties, for my marriage, for my cats, for my life.

What is something someone recommended to you that you disliked/hated?

Hard to say. Probably something Korean.

Do you think a job working in customer service would suit you? Why or why not?

No, I hate small talk and talking to strangers in general.

Do you find it difficult to keep up with online friendships?

No, I still have some online friends. We just don’t keep in touch 24/7, just like in real life.

Have you ever been in a musical or a play? If not, would you like to be part of something like that?

No and no.

Are you passionate about learning? What sorts of things do you like to learn? Is there a certain way or style you prefer to learn new things?

Yeah, I love to learn new things. Sometimes even random, useless knowledge. I lezrn the best in kinesthetic way, by doing things. I’ve never really liked school, though.

When did you first become eligible to vote in your country? Did you vote the first time you could?

At 18 and yes, because voting in my country is mandatory for citizens.

What is something you wish you had learned earlier that you know now? How would this have helped you if you’d known it then?

That sex is nothing dirty, but not wanting sex is okay as well. And that some touch is just wrong. It’d protect me from abuse... at least I hope so.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 4 - Only lovers left alive

Adam x Eve x Reader 

           "They came back."

           "The zombies ? I thought they came often, which really pisses you off all the time."

           "No. It's different. It's the little zombies."

Y/N looked up from her book to stare at Adam, who was circling the living room like a cat defending its territory, passing by the window to look through the curtain to see if the intruders had finally left. Eve didn't move, as she hadn't moved when someone rang, continuing to stroke Y/N's hair while humming.

It might sound strange, but since living with ​​vampires Y/N had lost track of time. Her days had turned into nights, the hours seemed to either go by terribly fast, or stand still for an eternity, and so she hadn't realized that Halloween night had arrived.

She could have guessed that it was a night that Adam hated even more than the others. Children, or 'little zombies' as he called them, kept coming asking for candy when they saw that there was some light.

           "They threw eggs." grumbled Adam, pressing his nose against the window. "On the door, and on my car."

           "That's what happens when you don't give them a treat. You get a trick."

           "It's a collector's car, very old, very precious. Next time, I'll open the door and eat one as an example."

           "We don't eat little zombies. Eve, tell him we don't eat little zombies."

           "Listen to our darling, love." she said continuing to play with her hair as if nothing had happened.

           "... Not even a finger ? To stop them from coming ?"

Of course, Adam wasn't really serious. He knew what would happen if he hurt a child. Not only was it wrong, he had never hurt a little zombie, when he was still a zombie himself and after his transformation, but also because even more zombies would disturb their serenity.

They might even have to move. Which he didn't want at all. He hated travelling even more than he hated humans.

Small humans in particular.

For her part, Eve still said nothing. She didn't really like mortals, but they fascinated her sometimes. She always wondered what incredible they were going to invent the next day. But not a word about the children.

           "You... Did you have children ?"

The two vampires turned to her, oblivious to the screams that echoed in the street.

           "I mean, before. Or after. Not in a conventional way of course, I understood that it was not possible, but by transforming them? Or is it prohibited perhaps ? I imagine that it is not a good idea to change a child. You wanted to have some ? You... Want to have some ?"

The couple said nothing, each suddenly looking at the other. Obviously they had never had this discussion, or very quickly, a very long time ago, and they had wanted to forget it.

Y/N then quickly changed the subject, asking if they had ever tried making blood candy. While Adam grimaced and indignantly thought of such horror, Eve remained silent.

Later, when Detroit was totally asleep and the musician was taking advantage of the calm to compose a new song while wearing his headphones, Y/N got up to face Eve.

           "You... You wanted children, didn't you ?"

           "You're funny, darling. Where do you get such an idea ? With Ava, Adam, and now you, I already have a lot of work. But to answer you clearly, no, never."

           "Really ?"

           "Really. However... Adam wanted some. At first."

           "Adam wanted children ?" Y/N whispered loudly, not sure if he could hear them through his headphones.

           "At first, as I just told you. He was devastated to learn that I couldn't biologically have one. Of course, he almost immediately talked about adoption. Then I turned him, he saw the world with my eyes and he gradually changed his mind. I'm not sure he really wanted a child. It was more the idea of ​​creating something with me, and we've created a lot together since."

           "It's still a bit sad."

           "Maybe. But it would also have been a lot of fear and argument. Beings like us avoid getting attached to too many people. It's so easy to lose our loved ones. Not only did he not want a child anymore, but for a long time Adam didn't want to see anyone but me. A real hermit. He only spoke to people if it was necessary, or if they were really exceptional, so very infrequently."

With a big smile, Eve then rubbed her head against Y/N's like a cat, to show her all her affection, and make her understand that she was special.

The three of them now formed a small family. Soon they would transform her, and they would be together forever, even when they weren't together, happy to know they would meet again at some point. .

They didn't need children for that.

           "I still wonder if Adam would have been a good father. I mean, I know he would, but I imagine him being very stressed."

           "Oh, darling, you know him so well." Eve purred, kissing her. "You just have to see how he behaves as soon as you have to leave the house. With a child it would be much worse. And you have to be prepared. When you're like us, he won't let you go anywhere alone for at least a century."

           "You're kidding ?"

           "No, she's not kidding." Adam replied, continuing to play the violin, still wearing his headphones and turning his back to them.

           "You are not my father !"

           "I don't see the connection. Zombies are dangerous, the world is dangerous, I'm only careful."

           "It's just excessive." translated their lover. "Don't worry, I'll be there to calm him down, so you can fly on your own. Even if I'll still be attentive. I don't want anything to happen to you either. "

           "It seems to me that we are all fine only because you are here to make sure of it." half joked Y/N.

This made Adam groan, who seemed to decide that he had composed enough for the night, and that he too deserved a little attention, going to slump between Y/N and Eve, silently asking for caresses and kisses.

They were going to meet his expectations when there was a very loud knock on the door.

           "Trick or Treat !" shouted adults several times, visibly drunk.

           "... I was wrong, big zombies are just as terrible as little zombies." mumbled Adam. "They're there later at night, and they're harder to scare."

           "And they'll piss on your car."

           "... I'll eat one, as a warning !"

Despite his best efforts, Adam couldn't get up, caught by his two lovers who held him down until the intruders left, showering him with all the love they could.

Adam was almost not angry the next day, when he had to wash his precious car with lot of water, the smell was unbearable for him.

[butwhyduh]

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.

[sukunarii]

Pairing: Yandere! Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: (Sukuna’s Era!) Yandere | Unhealthy relationship | Murder | Blood| This fic is much darker than my usual style! Please beware when you read it. 

Synopsis: In the early morning, you would play your koto in your garden. It was a show for one audience: a stranger that refused to step out of the shadows. A stranger that perhaps grew too fond of you.

Wordcount: 3.0K

A/N: A koto is a Japanese instrument kind of like a harp. Also this fic might be very historical inaccurate. This fic is inspired by a poem by William Blake titled “Song:  When early morn walks forth in sober grey.” 

The sky was gray on the day you first spoke to him. It was early morning, you were in your garden, under the gazebo as usual where you go to practice playing your koto. You enjoyed it, for it was one of the only times where you could feel absorbed in your own world, in your own solitude and tranquility. However, you have noticed that lately, you were not so much alone.

"Behind the willow tree, I know you're there," you called out. You could see the shadow shift, but the person behind did not step out into your view.

"I see you have noticed me," a masculine voice replied. It carried a hint of playfulness.

"Of course I have, you've disturbed my peace for a few mornings now," you replied.

"Am I not welcomed?", he asks.

"What brings you here?", you asked back immediately.

His answer did not come as quick as yours, as if he chose his words carefully  "I was captivated by the music you played," he complimented you.

You were flattered, you had to pause and recollect your thoughts for a moment. If he is just here to listen....well there's no harm, right?

You let out an airy laugh, "As my only audience, I supposed you are welcomed to stay." 

You resumed to playing your koto. From behind the willow tree, Sukuna stole a few glances at you. Along with the beautiful music you created, you looked so effortless and absorbed in your own world while playing. A world that Sukuna could step a foot into by observing you from afar but felt too delicate for him to disturb. You were like an angel while he was a curse— a monster. He shouldn’t have any business with a girl like you. 

Yet you called him, 'My only audience'...he liked the sound of that.

You were playing for him only, and he was glad that he did not even have to capture you for this. After all, a caged bird does not sing the same.

However, the serenity of dawn was disturbed by the loud and abrupt chime of the bell.

With a jolt, you stopped playing.

"Ah, that was the wake up call for the village, I got to go now," you said and got up.

From his shadow, you see him stand up too. You hesitated but decided to ask anyways, "Will you tell me your name?"

He laughs lightheartedly, "A musician does not need to know the name of their audience."

The buds on the dull brown branches were blooming into beautiful flowers that decorated the garden. Summer was approaching. It became routine, he would come to your little concert every morning. It was romantic even. You did not know who he was, but sometimes you would carry little conversations with him. You knew that he was not from the village, he said he travelled up from the valley every morning to visit you.

Knowing that he was not from the village also gave you a sense of security as you could tell him anything and everything without worrying that he would spread rumours. Afterall, you were the daughter of the richest man in the village, from suitors to enemies to your family's reputation, there was so much that you had to keep to yourself. You've learned to express these thoughts into the music you played, but being able to say them out loud in words was relieving.

He was your audience and you were his musician.

Nonetheless, most of the time, very few words were exchanged. It was just you, him, your music in the air and the garden in the surroundings.

You were wearing a purple kimono the day you asked him if you could see him. He gave you the same response as the day you asked him for his name, "A musician does not need to know the appearance of their audience."

You sighed, disappointed, "How about if I ask you as a friend?"

From the flickers of his shadow, you could tell he hesitated. Your heart started racing, in hopes that you will finally see your mysterious friend. But, you were left disappointed, "Not today, my darling. You're still not ready yet."

You looked at his shadow quizzically, what did he mean by not ready? Did he have self-esteem issues? Or a scar? Or was he really ugly...? Not that you would have minded of course, you pouted, "That's not fair. You get to see me all the time."

He chuckles, "I think this is for the better."

The urge to show himself to you or even take you for himself was very strong. However, he had to hold himself back, he didn't want you to be afraid of him. For one, you just called him a 'friend'. And he knew that if he did show himself however, this friendship would be over. You were an angel. He was a curse. Sometimes fate was cruel that way.

The green leaves that fell from the trees were fluttering in the summer breeze. Lately Sukuna has been observing you more and more throughout the day. Instead of rampaging the nearby villages, he would spend more time observing you from the outskirts of your village.

The more he observed, the more he noticed the amount of unsolicited male attention you get when you stroll in the village. Had he not been a curse, he wished he could be strolling by your side and indicating to all of those nuisances that you were his.

The village was not very large, thus, Sukuna has come to recognize most of the faces. However, one time there was a strange man with black hair that appeared in the village. Not that Sukuna cared much as long as he didn't try to flirt with his little darling — except the man did this very thing: he stopped you.

Sukuna could not hear what the man said to you, but he could certainly feel the rage rising in him. The urge to kill this man was very strong. In fact, in the heat of the moment he feels like he could kill everyone in this village to prove his point. Seeing another man try to talk to you so intimately enraged him. He has held himself back multiple times from rampaging your village and taking you home with him. Taking you as his. But for your sake, he has managed to suppress these dark thoughts. But not this time.

He approached you, or specifically the stranger menacingly...with killing intent. But once he was in hearing distance, he heard you tell the man firmly,

"I'm not interested."

The man paused. But insisted again, "Why not? I can treat you right."

"I'm interested in someone else," you told him.

Sukuna paused. Were you talking about him?

"What? No way, who might this be and how come I've never heard of this before! You're just making up lies to turn down my love," he argues back condescendingly.

You shot him a dirty look and you tried to leave but he grabs your arm, “Hold it there girl, I’m not done talking yet.”

That’s it. You slapped him. Not a weak slap, a hard one. The man's face flipped towards the other side.

"That is none of your business. Now if you would excuse me," you said angrily and turned around and left.

Sukuna smiled, 'That's my girl.'

He didn't even have to do anything.

You ran your hand through the calming blue water of the pond in your garden. You have strained your hand from playing on the koto for too much, they were sore and calloused. You tried inviting your friend to come feel the water too but he refused, insisting on remaining well hidden from your view.

"He is from this powerful family, the Zenin clan I believe. And he seems really interested in me."

Sukuna didn't answer.

"But I'll keep rejecting him, I don't like him and don't care for his advances," you rambled on, then sighed, "However I can't say the same for my parents. They are interesting in getting a hold of the powers of the Zenin clans."

"Why don't you leave the village with me?" he finally answered you.

You didn't think he was serious, but you entertained his idea, "They're not just your normal powerful families. They are very powerful as in even if we leave the village, there's nowhere left to run."

"Then I'll just kill them. Everyone of them."

You laughed bittersweetly, what could he possibly do against them when he was too shy to even show himself to you? The Zenin clan was one of the most powerful sorcerers of the eras!

"Haha, yeah that would be nice. But with all of the curses rampaging the nearby villages, we really need the Zenin clan's protection. It really sucks but they're powerful jujutsu sorcerers, it's a miracle that our village is not destroyed yet unlike the our neighbouring villages,” but swiftly, your fake optimism fades. You couldn’t play your koto today, but this stranger was your friend and talking to him gives a sense of comfort. He was listening to you and he was trustworthy.

You say softly, “If only something happened to their third son so that he would stop trying to woo me all of the time...." then, you laughed sheepishly, "Of course I'm just joking haha, I mean it's awful to wish death on someone..."

But Sukuna only heard the first part.

With summer abruptly coming to an end and winter approaching, sunrise came later every day. The sky was still black the morning you broke down crying to him. It was moonless.

"I-I know I said I wished he was d-dead, but I didn't mean it f-for real," you said between your sobs, "I just didn't w-want to marry h-him, but he got killed by a curse and I f-feel like I cursed him."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?", the intonations of his voice came out as cold as the autumn air. However, you were too absorbed in your sadness to pick up these nuances.

"No! I would never truly want anyone to die! That’s awful!”

“Now you won’t have to worry about unsolicited attention anymore,” he answered briskly

You hugged your knees closer to your chest and buried your face into them, “It didn’t make a difference...the Zenin offered their s-second son instead..., so it wasn't cancelled regardless..."

"What wasn't cancelled?", Sukuna asked.

"The wedding...”

Sukuna's jaw tightened. He was upset. Furious. You’ve mentioned that the Zenin family was interested in you but you’ve never mentioned that there was anything official. He didn't like that you didn't mention this to him at all. 

"Leave with me."

This time it wasn't a question. It was an order. Yet, you refused it again.

"I can't. I can't leave my family behind like that...if I run away, the Zenin clan would bare a grudge against them, who knows what they’ll do..."

For the first time, Sukuna finally stepped out of the shadows.

But you didn't notice, nor did you see him, the obscurity of the lightless sky hid him from your vision.

"Pathetic, why would you care about family that are selling you off to strangers? This is why you humans are so weak. Being emotional for things that do not matter," he says, words dripping with menace.

Your eyes widened, alerted by the swift change of mood. Tension high in the air. He did not sound like the friend that you knew. It’s as if he was a real stranger.

"That's not true! It's wrong to be selfish, they're my family. I have to listen to them and it's for the best of the village," you tried to reason but you were worried that he could hear the slight fear in your trembling voice.

"Oh yes because the Zenin clan will protect your village from curses. You think too highly of them. When I killed that nuisance, he was crawling and crying, begging for his life. He may be a little stronger than your average jujutsu sorcerer but he was still a weak human." Sukuna was tired of keeping up his calming and human-like demeanour. He topped off his statement with a sadistic laugh.

However, you didn't answer him. Not immediately at least, you were soaking in the words he just said. You gasped.

"Y-You mean you killed him?!"

You took a step back in shock and fear. You were told that he was killed by a curse...if this stranger you've befriended was a curse and one strong enough to kill someone from the Zenin family....you were in deep trouble.

Sukuna continued laughing, "Ah, yes I killed him. I sliced his body into pieces but I preserved the head so he could be recognized. It was a masterpiece, you should of seen the expression of anguish on his decapitated head!"

All of his efforts of wanting to preserve this friendship, fearing to taint your innocence, and scared of not being delicate around you, all thrown away in the heat of the moment. It didn't matter anymore, not when annoying jujutsu sorcerers were going to get in the way and take you away from him.

You screamed, "Get away from me, you monster!"

Your fight or flight instincts kicked in, this man in front of you— no this curse in front of you— was not a friend. You have befriended something much more sinister, he was a killer. A powerful killer and from the enthusiasm in his voice, he was a sadistic one too. You turned to run back to your house.

To your surprise, he didn't follow you. He watched you and even if you can't see him, you can tell that he was smiling.

You didn't dare to leave the house the days before the wedding. You were also too scared to tell anyone about your foolish encounter with a curse. Instead, you urged your parents to push the wedding earlier. The earlier the better, much to their delight.

Luckily, you did not hear about him and it seems that things have returned to normal. But your instincts say otherwise. If you play with fire, you ought to get burned. And you seemed to have attracted the attention of something very ominous.

You were wearing white on the day of the wedding. A veil covering your face. As per tradition, you were patiently waiting for your groom in another room, waiting for him to lift the veil off your face and take you to the main ceremony room to present you to the invited guests and families. Then allow the head of the households to pronounce you as husband and wife.

Maybe it was your nervousness, it seemed that every minute went by slower. Almost as if the ceremony has been delayed. But with your eyes covered by the veil, all you could do was wait.

Then finally, you heard someone approaching you. You feel a hand gently lift the veil off your face. To your surprise, the person who brought you out of the darkness was not the second son of the Zenin family. There he was, the powerful curse that rampaged villages: Sukuna. You might be the only person who has seen all four of his arms and eyes up close and lived to tell the tale. Not that you would have anyone to tell this to.

He was covered in blood. You were not sure who's but from the silence and the lack of wounds on him, you can formulate a pretty good guess. You drew in a sharp breath and jerked away from his touch, hoping to crawl away even.

"Help!", you shouted out hoping that anyone would hear — anyone at all....wasn't half of the Zenin household here? What were they doing?

"Shh, I was late because I had to take care of some trash, but don't worry, I'm here now," Sukuna says to you. You recognized his voice right away.

You were so terrified that you didn't even notice tears started coming out of your eyes. You struggled to get away from him, you clawed at him, tried to push him away, but it didn't work. He didn't even flinch.

"(Name), stop that before you anger me," he warned you.

You didn't listen.

"You're a monster," you spat at him and you tried to slap him but he stops your hand midair, the blood on his hands imprinting onto your white kimono.

"I'm not like those pathetic Zenin, you'll have to try harder if you want to hit me," Sukuna says with a taunting voice.

Despair washes over you. He was right, if even the Zenin couldn’t win against him, then what could you do? There was no way you could win this nor escape him.

When he carried you bridal style out towards the main room of the ceremony, you’ve stopped struggling. The room was plastered with blood. You recognize some of the body limbs on the ground, the remains of the guests, of your family, of the Zenin family. They were barely remains, mostly just little pieces. You had the urge of throwing up. No one was coming to save you.

It was just you and Sukuna.

Sukuna laughs, he can hear the whiplash of the puddles of blood as he steps over them. He was proud of his work, "Just like usual, only you and me. I'm your only audience."

The blood that covered him stains onto your previously white kimono.

Sukuna always compared you to an angel. And he was a curse—a monster. You two were not meant to be, fate was cruel like that. But Sukuna can be even crueler.

You are his bride.

And it was a red wedding.

[path-of-my-childhood]

Musicians On Musicians: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

By: Patrick Doyle for Rolling Stone Date: November 13th 2020

On songwriting secrets, making albums at home, and what they’ve learned during the pandemic.

Taylor Swift arrived early to Paul McCartney’s London office in October, “mask on, brimming with excitement.” “I mostly work from home these days,” she writes about that day, “and today feels like a rare school field trip that you actually want to go on.”

Swift showed up without a team, doing her own hair and makeup. In addition to being two of the most famous pop songwriters in the world, Swift and McCartney have spent the past year on similar journeys. McCartney, isolated at home in the U.K., recorded McCartney III. Like his first solo album, in 1970, he played nearly all of the instruments himself, resulting in some of his most wildly ambitious songs in a long time. Swift also took some new chances, writing over email with the National’s Aaron Dessner and recording the raw Folklore, which abandons arena pop entirely in favor of rich character songs. It’s the bestselling album of 2020.

Swift listened to McCartney III as she prepared for today’s conversation; McCartney delved into Folkore. Before the photo shoot, Swift caught up with his daughters Mary (who would be photographing them) and Stella (who designed Swift’s clothes; the two are close friends). “I’ve met Paul a few times, mostly onstage at parties, but we’ll get to that later,” Swift writes. “Soon he walks in with his wife, Nancy. They’re a sunny and playful pair, and I immediately feel like this will be a good day. During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. We walk into his office for a chat, and after I make a nervous request, Paul is kind enough to handwrite my favorite lyric of his and sign it. He makes a joke about me selling it, and I laugh because it’s something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. That’s around the time when we start talking about music.”

Taylor Swift: I think it’s important to note that if this year had gone the way that we thought it was going to go, you and I would have played Glastonbury this year, and instead, you and I both made albums in isolation.

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

Swift: And I remember thinking it would have been so much fun because the times that I’ve run into you, I correlate with being some of the most fun nights of my life. I was at a party with you, when everybody just started playing music. And it was Dave Grohl playing, and you...

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

Swift: Yes, I was playing his song called “Best of You,” but I was playing it on piano, and he didn’t recognize it until about halfway through. I just remember thinking, “Are you the catalyst for the most fun times ever?” Is it your willingness to get up and play music that makes everyone feel like this is a thing that can happen tonight?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very... Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice... I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: I listened to your new record. And I loved a lot of things about it, but it really did feel like kind of a flex to write, produce, and play every instrument on every track. To me, that’s like flexing a muscle and saying, “I can do all this on my own if I have to.”

McCartney: Well, I don’t think like that, I must admit. I just picked up some of these instruments over the years. We had a piano at home that my dad played, so I picked around on that. I wrote the melody to “When I’m 64” when I was, you know, a teenager.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: When the Beatles went to Hamburg, there were always drum kits knocking around, so when there was a quiet moment, I’d say, “Do you mind if I have a knock around?” So I was able to practice, you know, without practicing. That’s why I play right-handed. Guitar was just the first instrument I got. Guitar turned to bass; it also turned into ukulele, mandolin. Suddenly, it’s like, “Wow,” but it’s really only two or three instruments.

Swift: Well, I think that’s downplaying it a little bit. In my mind, it came with a visual of you being in the country, kind of absorbing the sort of do-it-yourself [quality] that has had to come with the quarantine and this pandemic. I found that I’ve adapted a do-it-yourself mentality to a lot of things in my career that I used to outsource.  I’m just wondering what a day of recording in the pandemic looked like for you.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music - I had to do an instrumental for a film thing - so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas... “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

So when lockdown happened, I was in L.A., and we kind of got stuck there. It’s not a terrible place to be stuck. We were there for four months maybe, and during that time, I sent an email to Aaron Dessner and I said, “Do you think you would want to work during this time? Because my brain is all scrambled, and I need to make something, even if we’re just kind of making songs that we don’t know what will happen...”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff -  you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: Yeah, and it turned out he had been writing instrumental tracks to keep from absolutely going crazy during the pandemic as well, so he sends me this file of probably 30 instrumentals, and the first one I opened ended up being a song called “Cardigan,” and it really happened rapid-fire like that. He’d send me a track; he’d make new tracks, add to the folder; I would write the entire top line for a song, and he wouldn’t know what the song would be about, what it was going to be called, where I was going to put the chorus. I had originally thought, “Maybe I’ll make an album in the next year, and put it out in January or something,” but it ended up being done and we put it out in July. And I just thought there are no rules anymore, because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, “How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?” If you take away all the parameters, what do you make? And I guess the answer is Folklore.

McCartney: And it’s more music for yourself than music that’s got to go do a job. My thing was similar to that: After having done this little bit of film music, I had a lot of stuff that I had been working on, but I’d said, “I’m just going home now,” and it’d be left half-finished. So I just started saying, “Well, what about that? I never finished that.” So we’d pull it out, and we said, “Oh, well, this could be good.” And because it didn’t have to amount to anything, I would say, “Ah, I really want to do tape loops. I don’t care if they fit on this song, I just want to do some.” So I go and make some tape loops, and put them in the song, just really trying to do stuff that I fancy.

I had no idea it would end up as an album; I may have been a bit less indulgent, but if a track was eight minutes long, to tell you the truth, what I thought was, “I’ll be taking it home tonight, Mary will be cooking, the grandkids will all be there running around, and someone, maybe Simon, Mary’s husband, is going to say, ‘What did you do today?’ And I’m going to go, ‘Oh,’ and then get my phone and play it for them.” So this became the ritual.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

McCartney: Yeah, well, this was being done in 2020, and I didn’t really think about it. I think everyone expected great things of 2020. “It’s gonna be great! Look at that number! 2020! Auspicious!” Then suddenly Covid hit, and it was like, “That’s gonna be auspicious all right, but maybe for the wrong reasons.” Someone said to me, “Well, you put out McCartney right after the Beatles broke up, and that was 1970, and then you did McCartney II in 1980.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to release this in 2020 just for whatever you call it, the numerology...”

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13... 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find...

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

Swift: Yeah, it’s lucky for me. It’s my birthday. It’s all these weird coincidences of good things that have happened. Now, when I see it places, I look at it as a sign that things are going the way they’re supposed to. They may not be good now, they could be painful now, but things are on a track. I don’t know, I love the numerology.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s...

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Yeah, one of my favorite artists, Bon Iver, he has this thing with the number 22. But I was also wondering: You have always kind of seeked out a band or a communal atmosphere with like, you know, the Beatles and Wings, and then Egypt Station. I thought it was interesting when I realized you had made a record with no one else. I just wondered, did that feel natural?

McCartney: It’s one of the things I’ve done. Like with McCartney, because the Beatles had broken up, there was no alternative but to get a drum kit at home, get a guitar, get an amp, get a bass, and just make something for myself. So on that album, which I didn’t really expect to do very well, I don’t think it did. But people sort of say, “I like that. It was a very casual album.” It didn’t really have to mean anything. So I’ve done that, the play-everything-myself thing. And then I discovered synths and stuff, and sequencers, so I had a few of those at home. I just thought I’m going to play around with this and record it, so that became McCartney II. But it’s a thing I do. Certain people can do it. Stevie Wonder can do it. Stevie Winwood, I believe, has done it. So there are certain people quite like that.

When you’re working with someone else, you have to worry about their variances. Whereas your own variance, you kind of know it. It’s just something I’ve grown to like. Once you can do it, it becomes a little bit addictive. I actually made some records under the name the Fireman.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us]... We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper...” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

Swift: Yeah, I think, when a pseudonym comes in is when you still have a love for making the work and you don’t want the work to become overshadowed by this thing that’s been built around you, based on what people know about you. And that’s when it’s really fun to create fake names and write under them.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: I think it is now, but it wasn’t. I wrote under the name Nils Sjöberg because those are two of the most popular names of Swedish males. I wrote this song called “This Is What You Came For” that Rihanna ended up singing. And nobody knew for a while. I remembered always hearing that when Prince wrote “Manic Monday,” they didn’t reveal it for a couple of months.

McCartney: Yeah, it also proves you can do something without the fame tag. I did something for Peter and Gordon; my girlfriend’s brother and his mate were in a band called Peter and Gordon. And I used to write under the name Bernard Webb.

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

McCartney: As Americans call it, Ber-nard Webb. I did the Fireman thing. I worked with a producer, a guy called Youth, who’s this real cool dude. We got along great. He did a mix for me early on, and we got friendly. I would just go into the studio, and he would say, “Hey, what about this groove?” and he’d just made me have a little groove going. He’d say, “You ought to put some bass on it. Put some drums on it.” I’d just spend the whole day putting stuff on it. And we’d make these tracks, and nobody knew who Fireman was for a while. We must have sold all of 15 copies.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

Swift: I think it’s so cool that you do projects that are just for you. Because I went with my family to see you in concert in 2010 or 2011, and the thing I took away from the show most was that it was the most selfless set list I had ever seen. It was completely geared toward what it would thrill us to hear. It had new stuff, but it had every hit we wanted to hear, every song we’d ever cried to, every song people had gotten married to, or been brokenhearted to. And I just remembered thinking, “I’ve got to remember that,” that you do that set list for your fans.

McCartney: You do that, do you?

Swift: I do now. I think that learning that lesson from you taught me at a really important stage in my career that if people want to hear “Love Story” and “Shake It Off,” and I’ve played them 300 million times, play them the 300-millionth-and-first time. I think there are times to be selfish in your career, and times to be selfless, and sometimes they line up.

McCartney: I always remembered going to concerts as a kid, completely before the Beatles, and I really hoped they would play the ones I loved. And if they didn’t, it was kind of disappointing. I had no money, and the family wasn’t wealthy. So this would be a big deal for me, to save up for months to afford the concert ticket.

Swift: Yeah, it feels like a bond. It feels like that person on the stage has given something, and it makes you as a crowd want to give even more back, in terms of applause, in terms of dedication. And I just remembered feeling that bond in the crowd, and thinking, “He’s up there playing these Beatles songs, my dad is crying, my mom is trying to figure out how to work her phone because her hands are shaking so much.” Because seeing the excitement course through not only me, but my family and the entire crowd in Nashville, it just was really special. I love learning lessons and not having to learn them the hard way. Like learning nice lessons I really value.

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks... it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

Swift: That’s the best. I want to hear current things, too, to update me on where the artist is. I was wondering about lyrics, and where you were lyrically when you were making this record. Because when I was making Folklore, I went lyrically in a total direction of escapism and romanticism. And I wrote songs imagining I was, like, a pioneer woman in a forbidden love affair [laughs]. I was completely...

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

Swift: “Peace” is actually more rooted in my personal life. I know you have done a really excellent job of this in your personal life: carving out a human life within a public life, and how scary that can be when you do fall in love and you meet someone, especially if you’ve met someone who has a very grounded, normal way of living. I, oftentimes, in my anxieties, can control how I am as a person and how normal I act and rationalize things, but I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and what they do and if they follow our car and if they interrupt our lives. I can’t control if there’s going to be a fake weird headline about us in the news tomorrow.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture - the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school...

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

McCartney: All of them did, yeah. It was important, but it worked pretty well, because when they kind of reached adulthood, they would meet other kids who might have gone to private schools, who were a little less grounded.

And they could be the budding mothers to [kids]. I remember Mary had a friend, Orlando. Not Bloom. She used to really counsel him. And it’s ’cause she’d gone through that. Obviously, they got made fun of, my kids. They’d come in the classroom and somebody would sing, “Na na na na,” you know, one of the songs. And they’d have to handle that. They’d have to front it out.

Swift: Did that give you a lot of anxiety when you had kids, when you felt like all this pressure that’s been put on me is spilling over onto them, that they didn’t sign up for it? Was that hard for you?

McCartney: Yeah, a little bit, but it wasn’t like it is now. You know, we were just living a kind of semi-hippie life, where we withdrew from a lot of stuff. The kids would be doing all the ordinary things, and their school friends would be coming up to the house and having parties, and it was just great. I remember one lovely evening when it was Stella’s birthday, and she brought a bunch of school kids up. And, you know, they’d all ignore me. It happens very quickly. At first they’re like, “Oh, yeah, he’s like a famous guy,” and then it’s like [yawns]. I like that. I go in the other room and suddenly I hear this music going on. And one of the kids, his name was Luke, and he’s doing break dancing.

Swift: Ohhh!

McCartney: He was a really good break dancer, so all the kids are hanging out. That allowed them to be kind of normal with those kids. The other thing is, I don’t live fancy. I really don’t. Sometimes it’s a little bit of an embarrassment, if I’ve got someone coming to visit me, or who I know…

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

McCartney: Who’s got a nice big house, you know. Quincy Jones came to see me and I’m, like, making him a veggie burger or something. I’m doing some cooking. This was after I’d lost Linda, in between there. But the point I’m making is that I’m very consciously thinking, “Oh, God, Quincy’s got to be thinking, ‘What is this guy on? He hasn’t got big things going on. It’s not a fancy house at all. And we’re eating in the kitchen! He’s not even got the dining room going,’” you know?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

McCartney: But that’s me. I’m awkward like that. That’s my kind of thing. Maybe I should have, like, a big stately home. Maybe I should get a staff. But I think I couldn’t do that. I’d be so embarrassed. I’d want to walk around dressed as I want to walk around, or naked, if I wanted to.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

Swift: I remember what I wanted to know about, which is lyrics. Like, when you’re in this kind of strange, unparalleled time, and you’re making this record, are lyrics first? Or is it when you get a little melodic idea?

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics - for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and...

Swift: Oh, I know that song - “The Kiss of Venus”?

McCartney: Yeah, “The Kiss of Venus.” And I just thought, “That’s a nice phrase.” So I was actually just taking phrases out of the book, harmonic sounds. And the book is talking about the maths of the universe, and how when things orbit around each other, and if you trace all the patterns, it becomes like a lotus flower.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack - I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use - kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

McCartney: I think a love of words is a great thing, particularly if you’re going to try to write a lyric, and for me, it’s like, “What is this going to say to that person?” I often feel like I’m writing to someone who is not doing so well. So I’m trying to write songs that might help. Not in a goody-goody, crusading kind of way, but just thinking there have been so many times in my life when I’ve heard a song and felt so much better. I think that’s the angle I want, that inspirational thing.

I remember once, a friend of mine from Liverpool, we were teenagers and we were going to a fairground. He was a schoolmate, and we had these jackets that had a little fleck in the material, which was the cool thing at the time.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember - this is what happens with songs - there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair - it was in a place called Sefton Park - and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house - I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: I love that, when people stop me in the street and say, “Oh, I was going through an illness and I listened to a lot of your stuff, and I’m better now and it got me through,” or kids will say, “It got me through exams.” You know, they’re studying, they’re going crazy, but they put your music on. I’m sure it happens with a lot of your fans. It inspires them, you know?

Swift: Yeah, I definitely think about that as a goal. There’s so much stress everywhere you turn that I kind of wanted to make an album that felt sort of like a hug, or like your favorite sweater that makes you feel like you want to put it on.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way - like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

McCartney: I think a lot of people have found that. I would say to people, “I feel a bit guilty about saying I’m actually enjoying this quarantine thing,” and people go, “Yeah, I know, don’t say it to anyone.” A lot of people are really suffering.

Swift: Because there’s a lot in life that’s arbitrary. Completely and totally arbitrary. And [the quarantine] is really shining a light on that, and also a lot of things we have that we outsource that you can actually do yourself.

McCartney: I love that. This is why I said I live simply. That’s, like, at the core of it. With so many things, something goes wrong and you go, “Oh, I’ll get somebody to fix that.” And then it’s like, “No, let me have a look at it...”

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really - talk about dumpy - little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down - “I’ll have that one” - and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology - it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

The weird thing was, Stella went up to Scotland recently and I said, “Isn’t it there?” and she said, “No.” Anyway, I searched for it. Nobody remembered it. Somebody said, “Well, there’s a pile of wood in the corner of one of the barns, maybe that’s it. Maybe they used it for firewood.” I said, “No, it’s not firewood.” Anyway, we found it, and do you know how joyous that was for me? I was like, “You found my table?!” Somebody might say that’s a bit boring.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

Swift: And I was just thinking, “I really want to spend time with my hands, making something for their children.” So I made this really cool flying-squirrel stuffed animal that I sent to one of my friends. I sent a teddy bear to another one, and I started making these little silk baby blankets with embroidery. It’s gotten pretty fancy. And I’ve been painting a lot.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: It’s a bit of a romantic dream. I agree with you, though, I think you’ve got to have dreams, particularly this year. You’ve got to have something to escape to. When you say “escapism,” it sounds like a dirty word, but this year, it definitely wasn’t. And in the books you’re reading, you’ve gone into that world. That’s, I think, a great thing. Then you come back out. I normally will read a lot before I go to bed. So I’ll come back out, then I’ll go to sleep, so I think it really is nice to have those dreams that can be fantasies or stuff you want to achieve.

Swift: You’re creating characters. This was the first album where I ever created characters, or wrote about the life of a real-life person. There’s a song called “The Last Great American Dynasty” that’s about this real-life heiress who lived just an absolutely chaotic, hectic...

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

Swift: Her name was Rebekah Harkness. And she lived in the house that I ended up buying in Rhode Island. That’s how I learned about her. But she was a woman who was very, very talked about, and everything she did was scandalous. I found a connection in that. But I also was thinking about how you write “Eleanor Rigby” and go into that whole story about what all these people in this town are doing and how their lives intersect, and I hadn’t really done that in a very long time with my music. It had always been so microscope personal.

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: I was, before my luck changed [laughs]. I still write breakup songs. I love a good breakup song. Because somewhere in the world, I always have a friend going through a breakup, and that will make me write one.

McCartney: Yeah, this goes back to this thing of me and John: When you’ve got a formula, break it. I don’t have a formula. It’s the mood I’m in. So I love the idea of writing a character. And, you know, trying to think, “What am I basing this on?” So “Eleanor Rigby” was based on old ladies I knew as a kid. For some reason or other, I got great relationships with a couple of local old ladies. I was thinking the other day, I don’t know how I met them, it wasn’t like they were family. I’d just run into them, and I’d do their shopping for them.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime - because I was born actually in the war - and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios - you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents... it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal - we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves - this crystal attracts them - they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

Swift: One thing I just find so cool about you is that you really do seem to have the joy of it, still, just no matter what. You seem to have the purest sense of joy of playing an instrument and making music, and that’s just the best, I think.

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

McCartney: I must tell you a story I told Mary the other day, which is just one of my favorite little sort of Beatles stories. We were in a terrible, big blizzard, going from London to Liverpool, which we always did. We’d be working in London and then drive back in the van, just the four of us with our roadie, who would be driving. And this was a blizzard. You couldn’t see the road. At one point, it slid off and it went down an embankment. So it was “Ahhh,” a bunch of yelling. We ended up at the bottom. It didn’t flip, luckily, but so there we are, and then it’s like, “Oh, how are we going to get back up? We’re in a van. It’s snowing, and there’s no way.” We’re all standing around in a little circle, and thinking, “What are we going to do?” And one of us said, “Well, something will happen.” And I thought that was just the greatest. I love that, that’s a philosophy.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: And it did. We sort of went up the bank, we thumbed a lift, we got the lorry driver to take us, and Mal, our roadie, sorted the van and everything. So that was kind of our career. And I suppose that’s like how I ended up being a musician and a songwriter: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

[mollymawkwrites]

Dans ma peau

Making this a bullet fic because it's been in The List for centuries but I don't have the crayons to write anything atm

Inspired by the song "Que des coeurs" by MPL.

Geralt is a tattoo artist.

A young man comes in one day without appointment, asking for a simple heart with a name tattooed on his ribs

Geralt wouldn't usually accept this kind of stuff, it's stupid and boring, but he hasn't had a lot of clients lately. Yennefer says it's because he unsettles them, not talking at all when he's stabbing them with a needle

So he nods, and steers the young man towards the chair. The tattoo only takes half an hour. The man speaks the whole time.

He's back six months later. Geralt isn't surprised; that's what usually happens with these kinds of tattoos. What surprises him is that Jaskier (that's the name he put on the waiver) asks for another tattoo, with another name, instead of a removal, a cover, or a refund, like Geralt expected.

He doesn't need to say yes, really, business has been good the last few months, but something compels him to anyway.

Again, Jaskier talks the whole time. Geralt learns that he is a musician and a literature teacher, though he struggles to imagine the colourful, extravagant man teaching anything to kids.

It becomes a sort of routine. Once or twice a year, sometimes more, Jaskier comes back, and asks for another heart, another name. His body slowly becomes a canvas of his heartbreak.

Geralt can't help wondering why the man doesn't learn; few people make the same mistake twice, let alone a dozen times. His first guess is that the musician is just stupid, but with time, he learns that isn't true. Jaskier is brilliant, under all the peacocking and silliness.

One day, as he is placing the stencil on the thin skin of Jaskier's collarbone, he can't keep the question for himself anymore.

"You know you could have the old ones removed, right? Or I could try covering them, if you want."

"I know. I like having them with me, though. Our story together might have ended," he says, tracing his fingers along the name of one of his latest exes, "but I still loved them, at one point in my life. I don't want to forget that."

Geralt hums, not knowing what to say to that. His throat is tight.

"Well, you won't have any space left soon," he jokes lamely. A strange sadness fills Jaskier's eyes as he smiles at him, and they end the session in silence.

The ritual keeps happening, and Geralt starts speaking a little more when they see each other. Jaskier knows how to goad him into conversations. Yennefer looks at him weirdly.

Once, Jaskier doesn't come for a couple of years. It doesn't sit right with Geralt, for some reason. He tries not to think about it.

He also tries not to think about how relieved he feels when Jaskier walks back into the shop one day like he'd never disappeared, and asks for another tattoo. Says the last one proposed to him at a Five Guys

"A Five Guys, Geralt, can you imagine? I mean, it is my favourite place to eat, but I don't want my proposal memories to be filled with the smell of bacon grease!"

Geralt snorts and shakes his head, tapping Jaskier's thigh for him to stop moving as he starts on the heart.

When it's done, he pushes his chair back to give it a better look. That's when he realizes.

Jaskier is covered almost from head to toe in hearts. Of all shapes and sizes and styles - he told Geralt after the first few times that he could let his "artist's mind" speak and they've had fun finding original ways to draw hearts. There's only one spot left, Geralt knows, even though he can't see it: he knows Jaskier's body better than his own by now. It's on his right side, underneath his pec, where he's ticklish and sensitive.

"This one better be the one then, right?" Jaskier laughs when Geralt points it out.

Jaskier pays and leaves with a wave and a smile, but Geralt's world is all wrong suddenly.

Over the next few months, there are two parts of him warring inside, keeping him awake at night, his brain empty of all inspiration and motivation for his work. He wants Jaskier to come back, he's not fooling himself anymore about how much he likes the man. But if he comes back, it means he still hasn't found the one, like he's been prattling about since the first time. If he comes back, it'll be the last time. Maybe not the last time Jaskier gets his heart broken, but he'll have to find another way to commit it to memory, because his skin is already covered in ink. He won't need Geralt anymore.

Jaskier is back sooner than he's ever been. He usually calls beforehand now, since Geralt told him it'd be better if he had an appointment the first time. He hasn't called this time.

He comes just half an hour before Geralt closes the shop. Yennefer left early because it's hers and Triss' anniversary.

They sketch the heart in silence, Geralt feeling like his own is going to break to pieces at the smallest sound. Jaskier has a nervous energy about him, but he's strangely quiet as he takes off his shirt and lies down.

Geralt executes every step on auto pilot, jaw clenched. When his hands come to rest on Jaskier's ribs, he thinks he can feel his heart fluttering. He imagines he's stabbing it with his needle, pinning it in place for him to keep.

The heart is finished, and Geralt has to muster all his will to open his mouth and speak with a rough voice.

"Which name, this time?"

He doesn't want to look at Jaskier, because he's a coward. He'd rather die than watch the sparkle in his eyes as he says the name of his latest lover, the one he probably hopes is the one. Geralt's not sure his own heart would survive it.

But the silence stretches for too long, and he can't fuss with the machine and the inks and the needles forever, so finally he turns, meeting Jaskier's gaze with dread, and all he finds there is pure, unbridled hope.

"Yours?"

[storiesforallfandoms]

tabloid bs ~ eminem

word count: 1822

request?: yes!

@imaginesforjohnnydepp​ “hi! i was wondering if you could do an age gap eminem x reader imagine where the reader is a singer and is the daughter of a very successful actor and singer and there are rumors of her parents not liking marshall making the rounds in the tabloids?”

description: in which she decides to shut down bullshit tabloid rumors regarding her boyfriend and her parents

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (totally legal though, we’ll say the reader is about 25)

masterlist (one, two)

Being the daughter of two incredibly famous actors meant you were in the spotlight from a young age. Paparazzi, crazy fans, fake friends, none of it was new to you by the time you decided you wanted to try your hand in singing.

You were nervous at first, worrying that either you’d only blow up because of who your parents were, or that everyone would shut down your career because of who your parents were. You were happily surprised to learn that everyone genuinely liked you and your music, despite your parentage.

As your career began to skyrocket, you were contacted by none other than Eminem asking to make a song with you. Apparently he was so impressed by your talent that he wanted to get in contact with you and ask you himself for a collab, something that he only did with people who ended up becoming close friends of his (Skylar Grey, Rihanna, 50 Cent, Ed Sheeran, etc. etc.).

You ended up following this trend, except in a much more extreme way. You did end up becoming close with him, but not as just a friend. Within a month of doing your collaboration you found yourself going on a date with Marshall, and within a year you were basically living with him.

The press had a field day when they found out. You were 20 years younger than Marshall, and he was only two years younger than your mom. Of course people didn’t react to kindly to this at first, but it wasn’t as hard to ignore these things as you expected it to be.

The thing that was hard to ignore, though, was the constant stories that were published about your parents hating Marshall, and hating your relationship.

This couldn’t be farther from the truth. Your parents loved Marshall, both as a musician and as their daughter’s boyfriend. Your dad and Marshall got along really well, and your mom basically viewed him as a new best friend from the moment he walked through the door.

These rumors were harder to ignore when they were brought up so often in interviews and during livestreams or Q&As. You were starting to get annoyed with it and you wanted to make it stop.

Lucky for you, the person interviewing you at that moment gave you the perfect segway to shutting those rumors down.

“I know this is a bit of a private topic,” she started, “and if you don’t want to talk about it we can just move on, but there’s something circulating in the rumor mill regarding you and your boyfriend.”

“Of course there is,” you said, rolling your eyes in a playful manner. You were trying to remain lighthearted about it all, but you were feeling the annoyance bubble up inside of you already.

“There’s a story going around that you blew off your dad’s birthday because he wouldn’t let you bring Eminem to the celebration.”

You felt your face heating up with anger. Oh, so now the media was trying to present you as a bratty singer now too? Saying you skipped your own father’s birthday due to your boyfriend?

No, they were not getting away with that one.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and quickly opened it. The interviewer looked at you in confusion as you scrolled through your pictures before holding your phone towards the nearest camera.

“Here’s a picture of me and my dad two days after his birthday,” you said. “It was taken by Marshall, because the three of us had a special celebration alone. My flight home was delayed and I had to miss my dad’s actual birthday, in which my boyfriend was actually invited to, by the way. Dad specifically asked if Marshall would be coming, even jokingly told me that I had to take him. So no, I didn’t purposely miss my dad’s birthday because of my boyfriend, I would never miss dad’s birthday on purpose.”

“All you had to say was no,” the interviewer mumbled, regarding her notes to move along to the next question.

“No,” you said. “I’m not keeping this one short and sweet. I’m tired of all these stupid, untrue things being said about me and my boyfriend and my parents. Mom and dad don’t hate Marshall, I don’t purposely not see my parents because of him. There’s no hate at all between any of us, and it makes me angry that tabloids make those accusations without any evidence just for clicks. This is someone’s real life, not just some fiction for someone to fuck around with.”

“You sound very passionate about this.”

You scoffed. “Of course I am! Ever since Marshall and I have started dating people have been saying shit about him and my parents and I don’t understand why. There’s never been any ill will between my parents and Marshall, not even any implied ill will. People just like to make up stories so they have a good headline to get views and get people talking.”

“Well, although nothing has been ever been confirmed, you can’t say you don’t understand where those rumors came from. No one wants their kid dating someone who is basically their age, no matter how famous that person is. It’s only natural for a parent to be protective over their kid, especially from such an older person that may just be taking advantage of them.”

Your eyes were wide with shock. You could barley believe what this bitch was saying. She was really trying to spin the story and say that Marshall was trying to take advantage of you, a literal 25 year old adult?

You stood from my chair then and began trying to pull the microphone off of yourself. The interviewer looked at me with concern before trying to stop you.

“I’m done here,” you declared, pulling at the wire once I found it.

“You’re going to break the mic!”

“Send the bill to my people,” you retorted. “I’m not sitting here and having someone tell me that the guy I’m dating is trying to take advantage of me just because he’s older, or hearing you spill some bullshit about my parents. Newsflash: if someone is happy publicly with their relationship, then maybe they’re actually happy. No tragic behind the scene stories or ulterior motives, just two adults who are in love.”

You finally got the microphone off and basically threw it at the interviewer before turning and leaving the room.

~~~~~~

You stayed at Marshall’s place that night, still partially fuming from the interview. You didn’t tell him specifics (especially not that you walked out in a fury the way you did), but you told him it didn’t go well.

You were awoken the next morning to your phone ringing. When you checked it, you saw your dad’s face and name light up your screen. You groaned when you noticed how early the time was before answering. “Hello?”

“Good morning sweetie,” came your dad’s voice. “Have you been online yet?”

“I haven’t even been out of bed yet,” you responded. “Why? What’s going on?”

“You’re trending for walking out of your interview.”

You sat up in the bed so quickly that it woke Marshall. He rolled over and looked at you in confusion as you put your dad on speaker and started frantically opening your Twitter app.

“Dad, you’re on speaker. Marshall is here,” you told him as you started looking.

“Good morning, Marshall,” your dad said.

“Morning,” Marshall responded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on that has (Y/N) wide awake at 8am?”

“She’s trending.”

“For what?”

There it was, your name at the top of the trending list. When you clicked on it, the first thing that popped up was your interview from the day before.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I can’t believe they actually posted. It was so bad, I thought they’d just delete the footage and never think of it again.”

“You think too highly of people looking for a good scoop, honey.”

The title of the video read Singer (Y/F/N) Goes Off On Interviewer while Talking About Parents and Boyfriend Eminem. The entire interview was included, luckily enough, including everything leading up to your storm out. Marshall watched over your shoulder as your dad waited, silently, for you to see it all.

“You didn’t tell me what was said,” Marshall said. “Why didn’t you tell me they were saying that shit to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “I mean, it did matter, but by the time I got here I didn’t think it would matter anymore. Like I said, I thought the footage would be deleted and long forgotten.”

You were nervously biting at your nails as you scrolled through Twitter to see what people were saying. You were expecting a wave of hate and people believing that you truly were a bratty singer, until you started to see how much praise and love you were getting.

“Imagine trying to frame (Y/N) as the bad one in this situation when the interviewer literally said Eminem is trying to take advantage of her”

“Never believed those rumors about (Y/N)’s parents and Eminem. They’re all too tightknit for (Y/N) to date someone her parents hate”

“The way she told the interviewer to bill her for the broken mic that’s QUEEN SHIT”

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you said as you continued to read. “A lot of people on my side.”

“Oh, I knew no one was against you on this one,” your dad said. “I just wanted to let you know you’re trending, and let you know I’m proud of you for finally putting an end to those rumors. It was getting really tiresome to read why I hated Marshall on any given day.”

You chuckled slightly. “Thanks dad. I’ll call you and mom later. Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

Your dad hung up and you decided it would be for the best to put your phone away for a while. Even though you weren’t getting any negative attention for this, you were still overwhelmed by the fact that the interview went up at all.

You settled back into bed beside Marshall, taking your place in his arms where you loved to be the most.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t realize my girl was so badass.”

“Yes you did.”

“Maybe I did.” You giggled as you nuzzled your head into his chest more. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course I know, babe. Don’t let that shitty interviewer and her bullshit get to you.”

“Oh she’s not,” he said. “I’m well aware your parents love me and I’m not taking advantage of you. I just wanted to remind you.”

I chuckled and shook my head. Shortly after, I drifted off to sleep, feeling proud of myself for what I had done.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Bell

Nie Huaisang has barely sat down when Jiang Cheng speaks.

“I’m ready to marry,” he says without warning and watches in amusement as Nie Huaisang fumbles with the tea pot.

Jiang Cheng decides not to mention the stain he leaves behind on the table.

“What the—uh, I mean, that’s great, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang finally manages to get out and then he shifts in his seat. “It’s just that—you’re great and all, and good looking of course, and everyone would be flattered, really, but I’m not?” he finishes weakly and Jiang Cheng hides his amused smile behind his cup of tea.

“I’m not speaking about you,” he eventually tells Nie Huaisang and it’s almost comical how he sags in relief.

“Then why the hell would you tell me this, Jiang-xiong, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” he wines and finally gets around to pouring himself a cup of tea. “What brought this on?”

“My Sect is stable for now and it feels like the right time to settle down,” Jiang Cheng tells him with a shrug. “A good alliance won’t hurt either, and my Elders are getting on my case about a marriage. I figured, why not.”

“And there’s someone you like?” Nie Huaisang wants to know and Jiang Cheng nods.

There’s even someone he loves.

“I still don’t see why you would tell me about this,” Nie Huaisang says after a moment and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“I’m looking for your approval,” Jiang Cheng says and gives Nie Huaisang enough time to widen his eyes in surprise before he goes on. “I wish to marry Nie Mingjue.”

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang whispers and suddenly he seems tense and sad and Jiang Cheng frowns.

This is not the reaction he expected.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and Jiang Cheng puts his cup down harder than he wanted to.

“So I’m good enough for you but not your brother? Is this an insult to you or to me? Didn’t you say anyone would be flattered? Are you lying to me now, Huaisang?” he demands to know and Nie Huaisang flinches before he hides behind his fan.

Jiang Cheng glares at him, because Nie Huaisang damn well knows how he thinks about that.

“Of course not, that’s not it,” Nie Huaisang nervously says. “It’s just—da-ge isn’t doing so well,” Nie Huaisang finally admits and that at least Jiang Cheng can understand.

Even if a pit of worry opens in his stomach at hearing that.

“What do you mean?” he prompts Nie Huaisang when he falls silent again and Nie Huaisang’s fan speeds up.

“His qi deviations—it’s getting worse,” Nie Huaisang admits.

Jiang Cheng has seen a few of them over the course of his friendship with Nie Huaisang, mostly because Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to think twice about leaving his Sect for days or weeks at a time, always deciding to join Nie Huaisang when he came by on one of his visits to Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng just didn’t think it was this serious, yet.

“Worse?”

Nie Huaisang nods.

“More regular and more violent. Even er-ge—he told me—I should prepare, he said,” Nie Huaisang brings out and Jiang Cheng frowns.

If even Lan Xichen no longer has hope that his playing is doing something, then it really must be serious. The guy is a notorious optimist and for him to be pessimistic about it—Jiang Cheng doesn’t like it.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t played for him yet,” Jiang Cheng decides on a whim but a plan is forming in his mind.

He will not allow Nie Mingjue to die before he turns thirty. There’s no way in hell that will happen.

“Jiang-xiong, what do you think to achieve if even er-ge can’t help anymore?” Nie Huaisang wants to know but there’s the tiniest bit of hope in his voice.

“Maybe Lan Xichen goes about this wrong,” Jiang Cheng decides, the plan taking more concrete shape.

It would make sense if Lan Xichen’s playing isn’t having the desired effect if what Jiang Cheng thinks is true.

“Can you even play the song?” Nie Huaisang asks and Jiang Cheng grins at him.

“No, but I know a master who might be willing to teach me.”

He’s not talking about Lan Xichen, they both know it, and Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide.

“It’s impossible, Jiang-xiong,” he then says with a shake of his head. “Even if Lan Qiren would be willing to teach you one of their secret songs, are you even good enough to learn it? And why would you think that you have more success than er-ge?”

“You seem to forget what my Sect’s motto is,” Jiang Cheng tells him and takes another sip from his tea. “Attempting the impossible is literally what I do,” he says and that, at least shuts Nie Huaisang up.

Jiang Cheng guesses it’s mostly because they are sitting in what was a burned out husk just a year ago but is now again a bustling, thriving Sect.

No one imagined Jiang Cheng would be able to rebuild Lotus Pier like this and he proved them all wrong.

He’s going to prove them wrong about Nie Mingjue’s impending death as well.

~*~*~

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Qiren greets him when Jiang Cheng enters the room.

“Teacher Lan Qiren,” he respectfully gives back and Lan Qiren waves him off in the same move he tells him to sit.

Jiang Cheng settles down and waits for Lan Qiren to pour them both some tea before he speaks. He did learn his lesson with Nie Huaisang, as amusing as that was.

“I intend to court Nie Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng says and just like Nie Huaisang, Lan Qiren jerks with his words.

Jiang Cheng would be offended that this is everyone’s first reaction, but honestly, he thinks it’s more amusing than anything.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lan Qiren wants to know after a moment and Jiang Cheng gives him a winning smile.

“I need help with the courting gift,” Jiang Cheng tells him and watches as Lan Qiren’s eyebrows go up.

“What do you intend to give him that you think I’m able to help?”

“I need the Song of Clarity,” Jiang Cheng says without beating around the bush and Lan Qiren freezes.

“That’s a Clan secret,” Lan Qiren reminds him and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“I know, but I’m counting on the fact that you care too much to deny me this,” he says. “Nie Mingjue’s death would devastate Lan Xichen and you love your nephew too much to want that to happen.”

Lan Qiren regards him in silence for a long moment before he sighs.

“If you want to marry him, it would devastate you, too. And you already lost so many,” Lan Qiren says and Jiang Cheng is surprised enough by his words that he falls silent.

He doesn’t see why Lan Qiren would care about if it hurts him, but it’s nice to know that he does.

“Which is why I won’t let it happen. But I need to learn to play the song.”

“What makes you think that you can achieve what my nephew cannot?”

“No offense to your nephew, but I think he’s going about this wrong,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug.

“Elaborate,” Lan Qiren says, but his voice doesn’t snap like it used to in the classroom when he was outraged and Jiang Cheng counts it as a win.

“Lan Xichen is a formidable musician, but outside of a fight he’s too soft. I haven’t heard him play for Nie Mingjue but I’m guessing he’s trying for a gentle, soothing approach. It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Have you known Nie Mingjue to be gentle and soothing?” Jiang Cheng shoots back and Lan Qiren frowns. “Even when he cares about someone he’s gruff about it, an undercurrent of anger always there. It’s just who he is,” Jiang Cheng says, because he has witnessed it enough times to know it to be true.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t care about anyone more than his brother and even with him he can’t be gentle and soft. It’s just not who Nie Mingjue is as a person, and that’s perfectly alright. But Lan Xichen is trying to appeal to that side of Nie Mingjue, so it’s no wonder he’s not making any progress.

“What is your plan, then?” Lan Qiren inquires. “To sit on him and force him to listen instead of having him meditate?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng bluntly says, because he guesses that’s the only way he’ll get Nie Mingjue to listen and it would be the most effective. “The song doesn’t have an effect because Nie Mingjue is not gentle and soft, there’s nothing the song could react with. If you play the song when he’s angry and ready for a fight—it might wield more of a result.”

“You gave this a lot of thought,” Lan Qiren muses but he hasn’t yet snapped at Jiang Cheng and that simply has to be a good sign.

“Of course I did. I didn’t just wake up yesterday and decided I would marry Nie Mingjue.”

That happened a few weeks back, but Lan Qiren doesn’t need to know about that.

“Can you even play the guqin?”

“I was raised as the heir to one of the five Great Sects. We all had to learn,” he says with a shrug.

“But can you?” Lan Qiren asks again, clearly not buying Jiang Cheng’s bullshit.

“I have a basic understanding of it,” Jiang Cheng finally relents and a cold shiver goes down his back when Lan Qiren smiles at him.

“The Song of Clarity is one of the more complicated ones,” he warns him but Jiang Cheng has never met a challenge he wouldn’t take.

How hard can it be, anyway.

~*~*~

It turns out the Song of Clarity is a fucking bitch to learn and Jiang Cheng hates the song with a passion. It’s unnecessary stupid and hard and just out to make Jiang Cheng trip up over seemingly innocent looking notes and if he never has to play it again it will be too soon.

But he learned it for a reason and he did not go through all of this pain and hassle to simply never play it again.

“You’re ready,” Lan Qiren says two weeks into his lessons. “You can play it for Nie Mingjue.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says, as he bows to Lan Qiren over his guqin.

“Did you send an official courtship letter yet?” Lan Qiren wants to know and he frowns when Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No. I talked to Huaisang, who told me not to marry his brother, because he’s bound to die soon. I doubt Nie Minjgue’s answer will be different at the moment, and I’m not accepting that. Huaisang did give me his blessing to try though, so there’s that.”

“I see,” Lan Qiren says and strokes his beard. “If Mingjue accepts, you send him here, for a talk.”

That makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

“A talk?”

“Jin Ling is too young to give Mingjue a fair warning as to what will happen to him if he makes you unhappy, so I’m going to step in.”

Jiang Cheng is unable to find his voice for the longest of times, because that he didn’t expect. He knows Lan Qiren has to like him at least a little bit, otherwise he would have kicked him out the moment Jiang Cheng barged in with his outrageous demand but this—this almost speaks of family.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng chokes out and when Lan Qiren smiles at him this time, it’s a soft thing.

“You’re very welcome, Wanyin. And now go and court that stubborn man.”

“I will,” Jiang Cheng says and gathers up his guqin. “I damn well will.”

~*~*~

Nie Mingjue is frowning at him when Jiang Cheng refuses to take a seat in the great hall.

“Why do you have to be so contrary today?” Nie Mingjue presses out and Jiang Cheng can see it, the unnatural anger, caused by the always threatening qi deviation.

He doesn’t like it, but he will damn well use it for his own gain here.

“I’m itching for a fight, can’t you see?” Jiang Cheng gives back and bares his teeth at Nie Mingjue. “Though I doubt you can take me today. I bet the anger makes you all sloppy,” Jiang Cheng teases him, fully aware of Nie Huaisang’s nervous flutter of his fan in the corner of the room and of Nie Mingjue’s narrowing eyes.

“What do you want, Wanyin?” Nie Mingjue snaps and for this Jiang Cheng softens his smile as much as he knows how to.

“I want to marry you,” he says and doesn’t let Nie Mingjue’s surprised gasp deter him. “But not if you’re going to make a widower out of me in the week after our wedding. So you’re going to endure me playing the most boring, difficult fucking song for you, or I will force you to.”

“Force me to,” Nie Mingjue repeats and gets up. “You think you can force me to listen to it?”

“Look at you,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, though his heart is beating quicker with the threat hanging over him. Nie Mingjue is a formidable warrior after all. “Your hands are already shaking. You can’t beat me.”

Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue have sparred a lot when he came to visit Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng did win a few times, but it was too rare for this kind of confidence and Jiang Cheng knows it.

He is counting on the fact that Nie Mingjue really is too far gone already to put up much of a fight.

“Fuck you,” Nie Mingjue hisses but he reaches for Baxia.

“You can, if you win,” Jiang Cheng cheekily gives back. “If I win, I will sit on you and you will damn well listen to me play.”

~*~*~

The moment Nie Mingjue hits the ground, Jiang Cheng is on him, whipping out the guqin Lan Qiren gave him as he settles down on Nie Mingjue’s back.

Jiang Cheng makes himself heavier than he usually is—using one of the many talismans Wei Wuxian came up with back in the day—and Nie Mingjue struggles under him, cursing and yelling, hitting the ground and kicking his legs.

Jiang Cheng will never get a better opportunity than this.

He starts to play the Song of Clarity, his own emotions running high from the fight and from his worry for Nie Mingjue and he thinks it might just be okay like that.

Clearly Nie Mingjue doesn’t react to the gentleness with which Lan Xichen plays for him; maybe he needs to have this song played a bit more aggressively as well.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t stop his struggling throughout the whole song but Jiang Cheng isn’t deterred by that. When he ends it, he looks over his shoulder down at Nie Mingjue who is glaring at him.

“You need me to play it again?” Jiang Cheng challenges him and Nie Mingjue huffs.

“I hate that fucking song.”

“The feeling is mutual, but you’re not getting out of this the easy way. So what will it be?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng startles when Nie Mingjue slaps the ground, apparently in anger before he sags.

“Play it again,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng can’t fight the rush of happy satisfaction that runs through him.

So he plays the cursed song again and then one more time for good measure, though for that last one he allows Nie Mingjue to get up and go through forms with Baxia and when he finally, finally vanishes the guqin again, Nie Mingjue’s grip is steady and his eyes are clear.

“How the hell did you do that?” Nie Mingjue demands to know once he’s done with his form and Jiang Cheng gets up to stretch his legs.

He never really was one for sitting down.

“I played the song, same as everyone else,” he gives back but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“Yours is different.”

“Because I don’t try to soothe you with it. I don’t want to get rid of your anger or your gruffness. I want to get rid of the death that could follow it, so I play for that.”

“Is that why Xichen’s song doesn’t work?”

“Probably,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug and then he startles when Nie Mingjue simply drops Baxia to the ground.

There’s a heart stopping moment where Jiang Cheng fears that he overdid it, or that he did something wrong, that Nie Mingjue is experiencing a qi deviation at that very moment, but before he can move and try to help in any way possible Nie Mingjue’s hands are on his face and Jiang Cheng is being pulled into a scorching kiss.

“I don’t know what you intend to give me for our wedding, but nothing can compete with this,” Nie Mingjue breathes out when they part and Jiang Cheng darts in to nibble on his lower lip.

“Try me,” he says and claims Nie Mingjue’s lips again, because he can and there is nothing else he wants to be doing at that moment.

Judging by how they just barely make it to Nie Mingjue’s room, the feeling is mutual.

(Jiang Cheng does have a better gift at the wedding; he modified the Yunmeng Jiang Clarity Bell in a way that allows it to resonate with Baxia, to clear away resentment and to replicate the effects of the so despised song without Jiang Cheng ever having to play it again. It turns out Nie Huaisang is the most grateful for that, actually, because he started to hate the song with a passion, too.)

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