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lynzishell · 3 months ago

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The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.

“Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

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booksandcleverness81 · 2 years ago

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Coming out of hibernation just to say that Love, Theoretically was a good book. No, a great book. I like Ali Hazelwood's formula, I like her characters, I LOVE that she writes about women in STEM and uses her books to advocate for fairer practices in academia.

Modern romances are almost all written with the same general structure. I read a lot of them (and write some), and while some tell a really good story and create memorable characters, the majority are generic cookie cutter stories that I forget about as soon as I close the book.

Most romance characters are archetypes. Most plotlines are derivative. There is always miscommunication. Popular tropes are popular for a reason.

Ali's specific version of this genre has tall grumpy men who are misunderstood. It has academic collaborations that force proximity. It has quirky women trying to figure out how to human while unpacking trauma, fighting mysogeny, and dealing with inconvenient feelings they don't know how to navigate for men they don't realize are their biggest advocates. Then they have a happy ending where everyone gets what they deserve and progress has been made in the STEM world.

This is Ali's universe. I loved it the first time, I loved it the second time, I enjoyed it in her novellas, and to no one's surprise - I loved it this time. If she keeps creating complex characters that I can actually care about and root for (something many romances fail to do) then I will keep reading. Hell, if every single man in her books continued to be an Adam Driver clone I would never tire of it, because a well written romance is a well written romance.

If you do not enjoy Ali's formula, why are you still reading her books? Just stop. We all like different styles, tropes, character types, etc. and I'm not judging anyone for not enjoying her writing. But it feels to me like the big complaint is that she has written a romance... And it's familiar... And we'll, duh. So few romances stand out to me, I feel this way about most romance authors. It's all the same in some way or another. But Ali's writing speaks to me, her stories move me, her characters feel familiar and comfortable in a way I rarely find in other books, and in a world where 1000's of romances are published every year, I feel like we can all find our own version of that without shitting on a talented author who writes books that a lot of people love.

We all have the option to DNF and move on with our lives if something isn't our preference. Let people like things. That's all I wanted to say.

Thanks, Ali. Love, Theoretically was sublime.

#love theoretically #ali hazelwood #elsie and jack #the love hypothesis #love on the brain

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ananke-xiii · 4 months ago

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ah yes, of course I have more to say. This time it's not about a specific comparison/trope, more about how angels are perceived by viewers (but also partly by writers, too, tbh).

anything about angels being ethereal and divine etc: I think sometimes the non-in-universe view warps what's canon when it comes to angels. For instance, the way we the audience commonly perceive angels sort of interferes with the in-universe depiction of said creatures. Like, maybe we see angels as ethereal, celestial, incomprehensible figures but in SPN they're anything but. We can very much understand their motives, their feelings and what their agenda is. It's totally not beyond human comprehension, as amatter of fact, it's very much human but it's also NOT human at the same time because angels don't have the same morality as humans do and their notion of "good" and "evil" is quite peculiar, if they even have one. This is also why the "halo and a harp" joke is thrown around quite a few times as a reminder that SPN angels are not "our" angels.

The same misrepresentation happens when it's about angels and love (and sex). It's pretty clear that in SPN (hashtag not all but many) angels are actually very, very, very much interested in sex and love. I'll concede that they tend to confuse obsession for love and that there's a lot of repression/suppression/sublimation/you name it going on in that department but, frankly, it's not something so inherently alien that humans can't relate to.

Anyhow, I don't think it's only the audience's fault, though, as I see SPN writers implicitly inserting their own personal view into the story as well. For example, the idea that Lucifer is the "primary agent of evil" in s14 after we've spent a whole season dealing with how God has traumatized and abused both his own sister and his own "son" and how said sister has, in return, abused and traumatized Lucifer doesn't exactly hold up. I mean, if there must be one primary agent of evil in SPN everything seemed to point to Chuck well before s14's big "reveal". Moreover, from their first appearance in S4 angels have perhaps wreaked havoc more than demons and other monsters combined. Lucifer is admittedly a big problem (among other things because he is an abuser and a general piece of shit) but he's not the only problem in paradise (lol).

Related to the first point, how Dean's in awe with Cas because he's a celestial being etc: this is something that I read in a lot of fics so it's just both my own personal taste and my fic preferences (I like when fics stick to canon as far as possible because I like to see how different minds might have developed a particular storyline) that differ from others and that's fine, to each their own. The thing is, I don't really see it. Maybe S3-4 Sam was more in awe with the idea of angels but after Lucifer I don't think the guy's particularly moved by them. As far as Dean's concerned, I actually see him hating on angels the most. Vampires can be okay, werewolves maybe, he's surprisingly okay with demons as well, but angels? He doesn't like them at all. And I mean this, this is actually interesting because out of all the creatures in the world he hates (and who have hurt him and his family) he ends up getting a best friend/consort who belongs to that particular flavor he just can't tolerate and who probably hurt him and his family the most ("Angels are just monsters with good PR"). As in: Dean finds Cas amazing because he's Cas, not because he's an angel but he IS an angel nevertheless and that alone causes some problems. It makes for a very interesting moral dilemma and an engaging angle to explore where a good chunk of their issues stems from.

#things I don't vibe with #supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn angels #b/w spn

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sysmedsaresexist · 4 months ago

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Personally, as an OSDD system who's anti-endo, I think I'd be much more okay with endos if they'd separate themselves from CDDs, if they'd just use different language and claimed to be their own thing instead of saying their experiences are "just like ours", I wouldn't have a single problem with them at all, and I've seen a TON of other anti-endos share this sentiment, but I'm curious about what your take on it is.

/i think this post comes across a bit more negatively than I intended but I'm not sure how or why or what to fix. My tone isn't directly at you or anyone in particular, I'm just sort of rambling to myself. Anyone is free to discuss on this post, bring up other terms, or just ramble about your own thoughts.

I completely agree. I'm pretty open about that, and I've had several interesting conversations since I changed stances.

It's not necessarily an anti endo only stance. You can be pro endogenic and anti shared spaces/language.

CDDs = childhood trauma disorders

Endogenic systems = something else that can still be real and valid

The English language = surprisingly limited

I would love if there was a better divide in language, but I don't see it happening, so the best I can do is focus on CDD education. As young people move into system spaces, it's important that there be accurate info on CDDs in any system space, including inclusive plural spaces. You're not getting resources into those communities unless you're willing to talk to them.

But let's talk about language and the words we use.

I think the polls a couple posts down speak for themselves-- endogenic systems are moving towards plural language. Most prefer to be called plural over system.

Problem solved.

Now we can deal with internal family systems, computer systems, and the justice system coopting "system" for their own use 😤 /hj

As for alter, again, plurals would really rather not be called that. You'd offend most if you did.

System hopping was never ours, the proof is archived for everyone to see.

Everyone on this planet dissociates to some degree, and CDDs aren't the only dissociative disorders, so we don't own that.

Introjection is a general concept in psychology that everyone does.

What language are we fighting over?

And if it's just "system" why aren't we more angry about IFS and multiple selves theory? IFS directly compares itself to DID, and I consider their description of DID to be inaccurate. More people and clinicians know about IFS than plurality. Let's go be mad about that.

I've yet to meet an endo who says their experience is just like mine, and I've talked to a lot. At least ten, probably (I'm probably one of the most blocked accounts on system Twitter). Search my tag #shit endos say and bask in the glory of the most wonderful bullshit you've ever read. Several hundred posts, and I think I've only seen it happen like twice? I don't say that proudly anymore, but the posts are still up because we still laugh at misinformation here. It happens, I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I think proper education might be best the route to go to avoid overlap.

From someone who's been in this way too long, the problem isn't as big as it seems, I promise. Doctors are well aware of the difference, no one is being tricked, the articles are real and valid, and incomparable to CDDs. They just released an article about how Christians can hear God as a separate stream of consciousness, and they tested tulpas at the same time. Give it another year, the article will be out eventually.

Anti endo is a dying stance, but we can still prioritize CDD content. And hopefully it helps someone who sees it.

But they're not going to see it if I'm anti endo, or if I can't hold a decent conversation and question their self perception every chance I get. Medical autonomy is real, even if it can be frustrating.

Google multiple selves theory and see just how long this has actually been a thing people have experienced. Look outside of psychology and into theories of consciousness, philosophy, and anthropology.

Don't limit yourself to learning only one thing.

#does this makes sense? Who knows not me #syscourse #not syscourse #sysconversation #pro syscourse conversation #not anti #not pro endo #a secret third thing #pro endo sysmed #Cdds first

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dramajib · 2 months ago

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TUMBLR

wtaf.

I have once again succumbed to the allure of flashy gifsets and started a drama and this time I am just APPALLED.

The only thing I can say is thank God When The Phone Rings is only 12 episodes long because there is no way I would last longer than that (it remains to be seen if I will even last that long in the first place).

I was LED TO BELIEVE this was Yoo Yeon Seok being all tough exterior mushy interior madly in love with his wife but ALAS we are actually dealing with two completely DERANGED PEOPLE whose ideas of what is acceptable are SO FAR OUT that even astronomical doesn't even begin to cover it.

For anyone who is NOT watching this, let me break it down for you. What I thought I was in for, was a drama about a couple with a failing marriage that come together to work against a ransom demander. What I got instead was.... boy. Where do we even begin.

Spoiler alert - although really, with this drama, I'm not sure it matters.

Our boy Yoo Yeon Seok is rich-rich (presumably, so is her family, but that's secondary-ish at the moment), and works in the President's office, as some big shot hot shot all the country loves him spokesperson dude. Do I actually understand what his job encompasses? Not in the least. It does somehow mean he attends meetings about dating trends but also has entire security details at his beck and call. Enlighten me by all means if any of that makes sense to you.

So anyway, his name is Baek Sa Eon, and three years ago he was supposed to marry the eldest daughter of some news conglomerate dude. Except we find out as the episodes progress that said daughter was not into the marriage. Sa Eon apparently has been long distance in love with this girl's younger stepsister this whole time, and the night before the wedding, he proposes they SWITCH THE BRIDE. AND SOMEHOW. EVERYBODY. AGREES. TO THIS. PLAN. Older sister... runs away? And apparently is still missing three years later? Keep in mind I am at the end of episode 2, so I'm sure we have more exposition ahead of us, but this is what I've gathered so far.

It's unclear if anyone knows that Hui Joo is a stepsister and not actually the conglomerate dude's biological daughter, although she has changed her last name so presumably she's adopted and in the family registrar etc etc.

BUT.

She does not like her adoptive family, and would have preferred to stay with her dad when her parents separated. Alas he is but a nightclub singer and could not give her a great upbringing, so away with her slightly mad mother she went (reserving full judgement on her mother for the time being, although I am already certain that HIS mother is solidly deserving several kicks in the behind). Hui Joo develops (or possibly fakes????) selective mutism, and in the present day, hides her ability to speak except when alone or visiting her biological father in his nursing home.

Oh, no, wait, there is one more time she uses her voice.

WHEN SHE

God, this is so incredibly daft I don't even know if I can write it out.

So.

Some dude kidnaps Hui Joo one night when Sa Eon is busy negotiating a hostage situation of Korean citizens in foreign territory (again, what is his job, actually?). Kidnapper puts Sa Eon on speakerphone in the car while threatening Hui Joo. Having previously called Hui Joo's mother, who said they were together and safe, Sa Eon believes this guy is a hack, and tells him to go ahead and kill her. Lots of callous nonsense etc etc. Hui Joo gets mad at his lack of concern and wrecks the car (??????) with the kidnapper inside (we have not yet discovered what happened to him post wreckage, but watch this space) and then proceeds to keep this fancy phone that's rigged up to ONLY call Sa Eon via virtually untraceable means with virtually un-unscramble-able voice modulation. AND THEN she calls HER HUSBAND and tells him to BREAK UP WITH HER AND MARRY HER SISTER AS ORIGINALLY PLANNED (?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!)

Interjecting my own commentary to say that the families, when deciding to SWAP BRIDES decided to not tell anyone and pretend that he was still marrying the elder daughter and Hui Joo now has to hide her identity as his wife. FOR THREE YEARS. THIS MAN. Who the whole country idolizes like an actual kpop idol. Has kept his wife secret (??????????????)

So now I'm basically watching a drama about this MENTAL COUPLE that actually both like each other but are too WHACK IN THE HEAD TO JUST COMMUNICATE IT go through the most BIZARRE circus act of romcom tropes dressed up as a political thriller show.

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK.

And NO ONE. NO ONEEEEEEEEE. In ALL THE GIFS. Of her sitting in the rain, and him teasing her to get in bed, NO ONE. HAS MENTIONED. THAT THEY'RE BOTH ABSOLUTELY CERTIFIABLY NUTS.

So anyway, totally going to continue hatewatching this for the foreseeable future, toodles!

#when the phone rings #yoo yeon seok #chae soo bin

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 10 months ago

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New chapter is up for my Feyd-Rautha/Reader fic. I'll provide the AO3 link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 3 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

But if you'd prefer to read it here I can provide it under the cut. As you can imagine, there are trigger warnings for this fic in general as well as this chapter.

TW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced incest, heavy violence, first times, rough sex, blood kinks, and of course Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning.

If you haven't read my fic yet I do recommend reading the prologue and first chapter to get what's going on. It's all on AO3.

CHAPTER TWO: THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN DREADING

“It’s time, Na-Baroness.”

You turn to look at her. She keeps her head down. “We need to get you to your bedchambers to prepare,” she adds.

You take a breath. He and everyone else need you to be living and healthy at least for the time being. You’ll be able to manage whatever happens tonight, you tell yourself.

You give a small nod, reach for your goblet, and finish the contents in three big swallows before setting it down.

Your mother sees you get up and her eyes widen just a fraction. You smile at her as you make a detour to wish your family a good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” you tell your parents. Afterwards all off-world guests will be going home, and you’ll have to deal with the fact that this desolate killing field of a planet is your home now. You try not to think about how you probably won’t be seeing any of your family again until the next wedding or funeral as you give each of them a crushing hug. When your younger sister hugs you back, you wonder if she’s thinking about her future, if she’s terrified that she’ll have an even worse match.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Father tells you as you pull away from his embrace. When he looks at you, you can tell he’s thinking, I’d give anything right now for you to have been born a son.

“Thank you, Father,” you tell him, thinking, Come on, now. You can’t put me up to this marriage in the first place and then act as though I’m going to my execution. You need for them to have hope that you’ll be okay. One of you has to believe that I can get through this.

You sense the Baron watching you. You can feel his distaste at the open sentimentality but he doesn’t say anything, so it seems that he’ll allow it. How kind of him, you think bitterly.

When you start to move past them your mother tugs at your wrist one last time and you turn to face her. She doesn’t say anything, so you end up speaking for her.

“It’ll be alright,” you say softly, taking her hands.

She almost smiles, then swallows. “I should be the one saying that to you,” she says. You just give her a small smile of your own and kiss her cheek. You end up letting go of her hands first, but it takes only the first tug for her to relinquish yours. You resume your trek out of the Great Hall when you reach the head of the table and stop, remembering one last obligation before you go.

You need to pay your respects to the Baron first and it makes you hesitate. You don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to look at him, don’t want to even think about him. His nephew strikes fear in you, but there’s a kind of revulsion that the Baron inspires that is tangible even as you can’t quite explain it. Even if you didn’t know his reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger that makes your father seem like a pacifist by comparison, even though you’re sure that there’s more you haven’t discovered yet, even with the limited interactions you’ve actually had with him, he makes your skin crawl. You step forward, eyes downcast, incline your head, and dip into the deepest curtsy you can manage in your gown.

“Thank you, Baron, for your gifts, your kind reception, and your hospitality,” you tell him.

After a pause he seems to think you’ve expressed an adequate amount of gratitude and says, “May you continue to please my lovely nephew,” he responds, voice low enough that your family won’t hear but the people next to him will. He knows that you know what he means.

Contempt and shame war within you. You refuse to look up at him. “Yes, Baron,” you manage, face flushing. Your hands shake. You rise and turn away. Idrisa’s there within arm’s reach to escort you out.

It’s a long stretch of silence to get from the Great Hall to the Harkonnen private chambers, but neither of you know quite what to say that you’d be willing to risk anyone hearing.

She guides you back into your bedchambers. Once there, you stand in the middle of the room, frozen and useless. “Will he want me in this?” you ask after a moment. You picture him tearing the fabric of your underskirts, maybe slicing your bodice with one of his hidden blades. It’s easy to picture him desecrating a symbol of your union. It’s also easy to picture him simply pulling down your undergarment, bending you over the nearest flat surface, and debasing you as you’re still fully clothed.

Idrisa shakes her head. “The Na-Baron had some specific requests. He’d like you out of this,” she says. “I’ll help you.”

She’s so gentle with her touch and the meticulous way she undoes your bodice and arranges your skirts that it unnerves you rather than soothes you. It’s such a contrast to how you’re certain you’ll be touched as soon as you leave these chambers that you tremble at her fingertips.

“It’ll be alright,” she says softly. “You and the union between the Houses is too important for him to seriously hurt you.” You don’t miss the disclaimer of ‘seriously’. You have nothing to say to that, only watching as she sets the gown back on the mannequin it arrived with and turns to you, in just your boots and undergarments.

You sigh and take care of your boots and the stockings underneath as Idrisa reaches into your drawers for a chemise and robe.

“He wants you to take off your undergarments,” she says over her shoulder.

“Of course he does,” you mutter, working on those next, stripping down bare. “For ‘ease of access.’”

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Idrisa says mildly, taking your discarded clothes and handing you the chemise to put on. “We’re almost done.” She sets down a pair of slippers for you to step into and gives you your robe before taking a step back and taking inventory of you. She tilts her head and bites her lip.

“Hair down, I think,” she says. “Your make-up held up well, so we won’t need to reapply anything.”

“We could, you know.” It’ll buy me some time to collect myself. Although that isn’t entirely true; you’ll still be just as nervous an hour from now as you will be five minutes from now, and you both know it as Idrisa quietly arranges your hair into a style she thinks your groom will find suitable.

His chambers, as it turns out, are just next door. “Thank you,” you tell her when you get inside. It’s a large room, as austere as all the other rooms but the limited furniture within it is of high-quality. A black armoire against the opposite wall with dressers and a desk and chair to match, and then of course the bed.

It’s a massive four-poster with a steep headboard. You can’t help but notice rings and hooks lining each bedpost. You don’t think you’re ignorant by any means, considering your overall lack of experience, but you’re not sure what they could possibly mean. In the next room you can faintly hear the sound of running water.

“The Na-Baron is finishing up in his bathroom. He’ll be ready for you in just a moment,” Idrisa tells you, before reaching for your robe. You instinctively move away, wanting the barrier between your skin and the suddenly oppressive air of an unfamiliar room.

She holds on, undeterred, to your sleeves. “The Na-Baron said that he would have his wedding gift already unwrapped and in bed waiting for him,” she says apologetically.

You think of your father’s words from days ago (“oiled and trussed up before being thrown into his bedroom”) and take a breath before shedding the robe and stepping out of your slippers yourself. You don’t look at Idrisa as you raise the chemise up and over your shoulders before tossing it to the floor and once you’re completely bare try to cover yourself with your arms as you take a few steps back. It feels dumb; she’s already seen you naked and so will the man on the other side of the bathroom door in just a minute, but you want to hold on some semblance of modesty in this unfamiliar room.

Idrisa looks away as she picks everything up. “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” she says.

“I’ll be nearby,” she adds, folding your clothes and setting them on the dresser and the slippers on the floor just beside it. She glances over at you one last time as if to say, Good luck, before turning and leaving. The door clicks and you’re left in silence. The water stops.

Better get moving, then, you think as you stare at the bed. You wonder briefly what such an intimidating piece of furniture has seen over the years, and you’re honestly not sure how to present yourself once you reach it. Do you lie on your back, like you’ve been told, is the civilized, kind manner in which to take a bride?

You think of the way your groom prowls, the way he kills. He’s barely civilized and he’s certainly not kind; the animalistic way he moves and looks at you suggests that he’ll fuck you like an animal too, on all fours and without preamble, but the idea of getting into that position, of presenting yourself to him in such a way, makes you wince the moment you imagine it.

So you compromise and settle on your side, facing the bathroom entrance where he’ll soon emerge.

Your heart races as nearly a full minute ticks by before the door opens and Feyd-Rautha emerges, as naked as you are.

You try to stay composed and keep a sense of demure composure about you as you take inventory of him and what is meant to go inside of you tonight. He is indeed smooth everywhere, and half-hard. You digest the fact that even without a full erection, he's larger than the limited sample size you've witnessed. You think that it’s kind of funny that he looks more powerful naked than he does in his armor, or even in his undergarments but to your relief he’s also as unarmed as he can possibly be. And if this is to happen, it is a comfort knowing that it will be with a man whose body you find beautiful to look at.

His eyes drift over yours, mapping everything as he takes his fill,of the rest of your body. “Have you ever taken a man inside of you?” he asks.

You shake your head and try not to let your nerves get the better of you as you wonder how much this is going to hurt. He sees the fear in your eyes, though, as he crosses over and slides into bed alongside you without another word. Your breath hitches, your heart pounding. Not for the first time he makes you feel like a rabbit in a field. It’s hard to reconcile that and the excitement within you; perhaps it’s adrenaline.

He slowly angles you to lay back as he props himself above you. Your pulse thuds in your ears and you hear your own gasp as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

There’s a moment he’s looming above you, and you’re caught between fear and a growing heat between your legs, your nerves on end, before you surprise the both of you. Without allowing yourself to think about it you lean up, cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss. This much you’ve done before, anyway. You hope that it’ll help ease you into everything else.

It catches him off-guard, which gives you a brief sense of satisfaction, feeling like the playing field has been leveraged, before he kisses back. He seems to like it, the hint of a challenge, and responds in turn by deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into your mouth. After a moment’s hesitation, unsure where to put your hands, you find that trailing them along his arms and back feels right.

For the first minute it actually feels nice. Then the first brush of the tip of his cock against your stomach makes you gasp. You can feel him filling out the rest of the way and try not to look down. It won’t help settle your nerves at all to see just how large it is when fully engorged. The soft skin of it bumps against your bare stomach again before he shifts his legs so both are between yours, forcing you to spread your thighs around his hips. He breaks the kiss and watches your face as he shifts one hand from beside your head to between his legs, taking himself in hand.

You clench your thighs and gasp, heart racing. Without thinking you give a small cry when he guides his cock along your slit. You feel stupid for it; he’s not even inside of you yet, but you can feel yourself seize up.

He pauses, as if trying to gauge something. Then he releases himself to slide his fingertips between the apex of your thighs instead. Your chest heaves as you think about how you’re the only one who’s ever put a hand there, and even then only a few times. You have enough time to think that you’ve never felt more helpless in your life before he brushes his fingers along your slit, all the more sensitive for the lack of hair, and then brings a thumb to the bud between your legs you only discovered for the first time a few years ago by accident. He circles his thumb lazily, watching your stomach clench and your lips part in a gasp. You shut your eyes, the intimacy of it already more than you could’ve anticipated.

“Look at me,” he says sharply, and you force your eyes open. He tilts his head ever so slightly as his thumb presses down and your hips arch up. You hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bite your lip, trying to breathe normally. He blinks as he takes in your reaction, his gaze traveling from your face to your hips before moving his hand, shifting his fingertips to your entrance.

The press of one finger inside of you is a stretch, unfamiliar but not unpleasant once you adjust to the feeling of being penetrated for the first time, and you want to look away, embarrassed at just how exposed you are to this man but as soon as you do, he repeats, irritated that he’d have to say it again, “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back to his. He curls his finger inside of you and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your stomach clenching, and he tilts his head slightly, pulling his hand back to add a second finger alongside it, and this time the burn of it’s just a little too much. You try to pull your hips back, face pinched in discomfort, and he gives a frustrated exhale as he tries twisting his fingers, only to get the same reaction. He pulls his fingers out, and seems to think about what to do next.

He glances down at your chest, at your stiffened nipples, and lowers himself down onto his forearms, his head down to your breasts, teeth and tongue scraping against one, then the other. As you whine and cradle the back of his neck you wonder if this is like a game for him, trying to see what noises he can pull from you where, and doing what, as he travels from one part of your body to another. You try to collect your breath as he stops, traveling lower, his body sliding almost serpentine along the length of the bed and you can’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulders.

You briefly notice that there are old scars there that you hadn’t been able to see properly in the semi-darkness of the fighting halls. They look like lash-marks that span from his shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks. But that’s the last coherent thought you have before Feyd-Rautha’s face disappears between your spread legs and you cry out, back arching at the first contact between his mouth and your lower lips.

You were expecting and fearing a lot tonight but hadn’t accounted for your groom licking your newly-shaved privates. It’s shocking enough that it takes you a moment to understand how nice it feels. You pant and squirm, your moans pulled out of you with each swipe of his tongue along your slit, each flicker of it against your bud.

“Oh!” you manage, incapable of saying anything else as your thighs shake and you wish he had hair that you could bury your fingers in as he laps at you.

When the heat of it really starts to build and your whines start sounding more desperate, the very core of you slick along his lips and tongue is when he stops. It’s all a means to an end and as far as he’s concerned he’s done more than enough to prepare you.

He ignores your whimper of protest as he pulls away and props himself up above you again, taking inventory of your flushed face and chest, your parted and kiss-swollen lips.

Good, you’re ready, he seems to think. He lines himself up, and your breath hitches as you shut your eyes.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says immediately, and you relent, gazing up at a pair of eyes that glint nearly silver, pupils wide.

The blunt head of him is wide, and you realize that the preparation, his fingers and tongue, weren’t enough to ease the passage. He’ll tear you open. He watches your face and the growing panic in your eyes and presses forward.

Fear is the mind-killer. It is the little–

The first press of him knocks the air out of your lungs in a sob. You lurch up, clutching at his back as your inner thighs clench around his sides as he thrusts in the first couple of inches. You squirm around him, shifting, hoping to get unstuck like you’re a worm on a hook. He just pushes in deeper with a grunt, his hand clutching your hip to keep you still so he can bury himself within you the rest of the way.

It hurts, you want to protest, as if he can��t tell already. As if he doesn’t enjoy how he’s skewering you onto him.

You’ve been in worse pain than this. Remember when you broke your arm when you were nine? If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life to the most frightening man you’ve ever met who–you hope–is now fully inside of you, you’d almost laugh.

Virgin sex: not as painful as breaking an arm.

You dig your nails in. Feyd-Rautha gives a breathless laugh and a sharp thrust that has you crying out and digging your nails in deeper.

“Does my little pet want to get her claws in me?” he says, the first time he’s spoken in several minutes. You try to relax your hands, just gripping onto his back. “I didn’t say ‘stop,’” he adds.

He likes pain, the Reverend Mother told you.

Well, alright, then.

You grit your teeth and scratch down the length of his back. He groans, a rumble deep in his chest before pulling out nearly to the tip of him and pushing all the way back in again. It helps, in a way, the feeling of reciprocating the pain. The difference is that you’re barely tolerating it, but he’s enjoying it. He seems to like the pressure of your kneecaps digging into his sides, the nails down his back.

Curiosity strikes and you reach up and pull him down close enough to bite down on his collarbone and he gasps, hips stuttering for a moment, a moan pulled out of him before he resumes thrusting into you with deeper rolls of his hips.

You’re not sure when the moment happens that you start to adjust, the sting of it fading to a sore stretch. You still feel impossibly full, but the ache of it feels like a minor tear, not like you’ve just been split in half.

It’s soon after that he draws the first real moan out of you since before he entered you and it gives you pause; the stroke of his hips had been just right, you’d tilted yours in just a way that actually felt good in a way that tugged at your insides. After a moment he tries again and you can’t help but make the same noise, holding onto him as the push and pull of his thrusts finally starts to feel right, like an act that’s natural rather than a punishment.

It’s then that he pulls out, and you yelp in shock; you were only starting to get adjusted to having him inside of you and he hasn’t spilled his seed yet. You barely have time to understand what’s happening as he flips you onto your front and hauls you up, grabbing your hips.

It feels like another invasion, the angle tighter. You won’t be able to hold onto him or take your pain out on him. You scramble to get your forearms under you as he well and truly starts fucking you. You hadn’t realized that he’d been holding back at all.

You do realize, though, that he not only tolerates your hair but likes it, when he wraps your tresses around his hand and sharply tugs like your hair’s a harness. You can’t help any of the desperate noises that you make, shaking, as you’re repeatedly pulled back onto his cock. The heat of tears builds in your eyes as you lower your head, only for him to tug it back by your hair.

You give another cry, which spurs him on. Pleasure, pain, it seems like it’s all the same to him so long as he can keep pulling desperate sounds out of you. He speeds up, goes harder, the snap of his hips against your ass loud to the point of obscene within the echoes of his room.

And then you feel it, warm and viscous inside of you as he gives a choked moan, grunting as he thrusts into you one last time and holds still, his hands still on your hips. You gasp, freezing, before moaning even though you're not entirely sure if you like the sensation of it or not.

You feel him pull away from you and twist onto your back, your legs bent to avoid colliding with him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and wipes his bloody cock off on the sheets.

You catch your breath as you bring a hand against your forehead, trying to think.

It’s done; you got through it.

He turns to look at you, at your parted lips, your breasts rising and falling as your breath evens out, your inner thighs where a small smear of blood remains, and wordlessly brings a thumb to the tacky skin there.

You blink, eyes widening as he looks you in the eye and licks off the already-drying blood. He tilts his head, still looking between your legs, when his fingertips slide against your slit, collecting both a little blood and a dribble of his seed that leaked out of you. Without a word he settles back over you and brings his fingers to your lips.

You try to think about what he’d want from you at this moment, and all that comes to mind is to mirror him. You try to shut out the part of you that feels revulsion at the sight and the smell and part your lips.

You can’t look away from him as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb on your lips and pushes further, onto your tongue. You want to flinch away at the salt of your blood mixed with the viscous salt of his seed, but with his other hand he cups your jaw. His movements could be seen as gentle and if he were a different man this act could be seen as intimate, but no, not with him. He’s trying to humiliate you, you’re sure. Because he then says, quietly, “Close your mouth,” and you hesitate, face heating up with shame, before you do.

For a moment you want to pull back and spit the mixture back out into his face. There must be a flicker of that want in your eye because he tilts his head in a silent challenge.

Go on. Try it, he seems to say.

You want to, but you do the opposite, the new goal to be to catch him off-guard again. You force yourself to taste the residue from both of your bodies off his fingers. You lick delicately around the digits and watch his eyes widen just a fraction. You do it again, slowly, realizing that you’ve surprised him again.

He pulls his fingers out, his full lips parted.

“Don’t swallow,” is all he says before crushing his mouth against yours.

You didn’t think you were ignorant, but you don’t fully understand what this is, what it’s called, why he’s enjoying it so much. It’s a tool you think you might have but don’t have any frame of reference for and aren’t sure how to use as he groans as the liquids merge between you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss. You just know that you’re learning enough to keep him interested. He lays fully against you, and you have enough time to think that his chest feels nice pressed up against yours before he reaches in between your legs to feel the puffy, bruised apex where he’d buried himself.

Is he already getting aroused again?

You get your answer when he flips you onto your stomach for the second time and pulls your hips up just enough for him to settle behind you. For a moment you lurch forward, away from his grip but of course he pulls you back. Alarm sets in. I need time. I’m still recovering from the first time you split me open. You hear yourself whine as he slides his rapidly-stiffening cock in between your tender folds as if to plead for his mercy. He doesn’t grant it, moaning at the desperate sound. You realize that he’s working himself the rest of the way in his own hand before pressing it back up against you and pushing inside of you in one sharp thrust.

In some ways it’s easier; you’re sufficiently stretched out at this point to take him inside of you, and the combination of blood and semen’s added second and third coats of lubrication.

But then he’s rougher; there’s no preamble, no brief moments of letting you adjust to the intrusion. He goes hard and fast on your torn and bruised insides, and this time he doesn’t say a word. All you hear are beast-like grunts as he pulls you onto him.

Just finish. Please just finish and get it over with, you think as your cries become hoarse, and then nothing more than pathetic whimpers. That in itself seems to spur him on, how much he’s wearing you out and taking you to the very limits of what you can handle.

You collapse the rest of the way onto your front, panting and sweaty, and you shut your eyes when you can sense he’s almost done, shuddering as his thrusts become more erratic and he finally–thankfully–comes, filling you up a second time and you could cry with the relief of it.

He holds on for a moment, as if trying to make sure as much of him as possible stays inside of you as he settles down, his front against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck. And then he pulls out and you wonder if this is how it feels when a person who’s just been stabbed feels the knife leave their body right before you sense him turn and fall onto his back against the sheets.

You remain on your front, the side of your face resting on your forearm as you just don’t have it in you to move again. You just hope that Feyd-Rautha’s finally done for the night. You turn your head to the other side to look at him and confirm.

His penis looks a lot less intimidating when it’s soft and resting against his thigh. You watch his chest rise and fall and briefly think about running a hand over it, and long the ridges of his abdomen even as you can’t say you’re proud of yourself for the instinct. He just seems almost docile now, reclining on his back, after he’s rutted inside of you twice. It's almost like wanting to pet a sedated dog that had been trying to bite you. You watch him raise one leg slightly, enough to bend his knee, and you notice more scars along his inner thigh that are even paler than the rest of him. They don’t look recent, but not as old as the ones on his back.

He turns his head and looks at you, and reaches out, bringing a hand to your backside, lazily caressing a cheek before bringing his palm down in a hard smack. He smirks at how the soft flesh jiggles and at your responding yelp.

“It was right there,” he says by way of explanation. You’re tired enough that you can’t help but snicker as you keep your head pillowed on your forearms and try to focus on the softness of the sheets under you rather than the unrelenting ache between your legs. You look at each other, him likely surveying the damage as you catalog him in what is probably the closest he ever gets to a relaxed state.

“Can you stand?” Feyd-Rautha asks after a moment.

You’re not entirely sure you can move your legs. “In a moment, maybe,” you admit.

“Then take a moment,” he says. “Then you can call your girl to take you back to your quarters.”

You get up on your forearms to get a better look at him. “You’re sending me away?” you ask. You don’t mean the hurt tone in your voice. Not that you even want to stay the night, but his dismissal feels insulting. You’re the one whose insides are sore and bleeding, after all. Is he not even going to give you more time to recover and just relax here? Maybe kiss you one last time?

“It’s more practical if I do,” he says. “I’ll be up a few hours before you tomorrow.” His tone is so matter-of-fact that any trace of intimacy over the past couple of minutes dissipates into thin air and you remember who you’re with.

“Right.” You look over at your clothes on the dresser. You wince at the effort, but turn to your side and sit up facing away from him. You can feel his stare burning into your back.

You wince as you sit forward and try to get your limbs to coordinate with you as you shift your legs.

You look down at the sheets and wonder if Feyd-Rautha’s going to have someone come in to clean them immediately after you leave.

No, you realize. He’ll have someone come in to put down new ones, certainly, but he’ll be holding on to the bloodied sheets. They’ll serve as a trophy, proof that he deflowered the heiress to the House of Y/H.

You don’t look back at your new husband as you get up, shakily at first, needing to hold onto the bed to stabilize you.

You need to walk gingerly, and the feel of Feyd-Rautha watching your discomfort makes it worse. You feel tears build again, this time from anger. You think to yourself that you might’ve been able to handle everything else tonight better if he were a little kinder to you afterwards, and gave you something to temper the roughness as he’d prepared you beforehand. And here he is smugly watching the pain you’re in because of him, congratulating himself on how he wrecked your virgin cunt.

This is fucking undignified. I’m part of a Major House, too, you think as you pull on your chemise and step into your slippers. Finally you’ve decided that you’re not going to let this insult pass and turn to him. He’s sitting up, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped loosely around them as he watches you and that somehow makes it even worse. “Is this amusing for you?” you demand, thinking, Of course it is, you stupid girl. He and his kind get off on this sort of thing.

He looks neither embarrassed nor smug, but leans forward a little as he considers you. “You did well tonight,” he says.

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you say coldly as you reach for your robe.

“I like it when you call me husband,” he adds, and you glance back at him. “That’s what you should call me when we’re alone together.”

You look at him a moment longer. You realize that this is just about the closest he can get to being kind to you, at least tonight. Whatever tenderness he’d shown when he first touched you was to serve his own purpose. Now that he’s taken what he wants there’s nothing else to give you. It’s not even intentional cruelty on his part, you don’t think. It’s just the absence of everything else.

With a resigned sigh you pull on your robe and give him a curt nod. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, husband,” you tell him, pad over to the door, and open it just far enough to see Idrisa standing post just outside. You head into the hallway and shut the door behind you without another word or glance backwards.

“How much of that were you able to hear?” you ask her.

She tries to spare you. “The walls are thick, Na-Baroness,” she says, and you’re even more grateful for the short distance to your chambers than you’d been before.

At your bedside you notice that there’s a jug of water and a glass, then beside them a dish. You head for it to inspect closer and it turns out there are two small white tablets. You turn to look at her.

Idrisa shrugs one shoulder. “Part of the benefits of being promoted to your attendant,” she says. “I felt it would be safer to take precautions and assume you’d need pain relief after…” she trails off, realizing there is no polite way to say getting fucked hard for the first time by a man who delights in your pain and just repeats, “after. I spoke with a Healer who agreed that it would be safer to plan for that.”

As you reach for a tablet she adds quickly, “I wouldn’t take more than half if I were you.”

You pause, the tablet to your mouth. “Why?” you ask.

She hesitates. “I wasn’t sure how severe your pain would be afterwards,” she says. “I really didn’t know how to predict so I requested two tablets. Looking at you now, half a tablet should suffice.”

You look down at the dish and then back at her. Just how badly did you think tonight would go for me? you want to ask, but then realize that there are some questions you don’t actually want answers to.

You smile at her in gratitude, snap the tablet in half, and wash it down with the offered water. “Will it help me sleep?” you ask.

She inclines her head in the affirmative. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” she says.

“It’s alright. I can handle the rest myself,” you tell her.

Her brow furrows and she frowns. “It’s my duty to look after you,” she says.

“I understand, but right now I need to be alone,” you tell her.

She looks nervous, as if her dismissal is some kind of failure on her part and something for which she’ll be punished later.

“You’ve done a great job,” you tell her. “But the best way to take care of me tonight is to let me do this myself.”

“Whatever you wish, Na-Baroness,” she says finally. “Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

……………..

You pad over to the bathroom and a minute later find yourself sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a warm, wet towel in one hand as you inch up the hem of your chemise with the other.

You wince at the first press of the towel against your tender skin. You don’t want to look directly at the damage, wishing you still had hair down there to obscure some of it. You shut your eyes as you wipe around your inner thighs. You wipe directly between your legs and the sharp bite of the pain makes you briefly double over. After a moment you look down at the used towel; there’s not as much blood as you thought, as it feels like it was spilled out of you, but you’re going to have to wring it out and start over if you want to feel clean. Maybe you won’t feel clean again.

The reality of it all hits you, sharply, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed and a part of you realizes that the worst is yet to come.

For the first time since finding out you would be linked to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you break down and cry.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune part 2 #feyd-rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha

56 notes · View notes

limi-strology · 2 years ago

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Astro observations II

Decided to make a part 2, didn't expect the first one to get more than, like, 50 notes 😅

Based on just my personal experience, might not be true for everyone! ᵔᴗᵔ

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┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Contrary to the stereotypes, I don't think I've ever met a two faced Gemini. They honestly seem pretty cool people, they have so many friends and they just know how to communicate, you know? Their relationship with their partner looks really wholesome to outsiders too (but could be just me viewing it this way, lol). If anything, I think they just stand out more, which makes it a bit more difficult to approach them. 🤷‍♀️

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Gemini sun girls also have something aesthetic about them, like my cousin has a nice academia aesthetic going on in her life and a classmate from uni has this high-end fashion sense, she looks really pretty everytime (For some reason, when I think of Geminis, I'm envisioning luxury parties with champagne and brands like YSL and Louis Vuitton, that's the vibe I get) ✨

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ People with Sagittarius in their big three (sun, moon, rising) are some of the most outgoing people I know. They have so many connections and, once their schedule allows it, they start planning coffee dates, hangouts with their friends, clubbing etc. A friend of mine can literally NOT stay at home the entire day, he just HAS to go out or meet up with people for at least 2-3 hours. 🏙️

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ To the fellas with Moon opposition Neptune; How do you guys deal with moments in life that don't live up to your expectations? You know, when your imagination goes wild and has a very idealistic scenario of a certain situation, only for it to happen in a much different way and lowkey dissapoints you? Also, do you have dreams that kind of warn you or prepare you for something that will take place in the future? Because I feel like we kind of build our own world and the universe has to remind us that life isn't always perfect, lol 💭

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ My dear Aquarians, why the pessimism? Rather than overthinking everything and imagining the worst scenarios possible, how about you try focusing more on positive things? Even if it's just something small each time, it helps you view your daily life in a better light :)

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Speaking of Aquas, I've noticed that most of you guys also don't really like being alone for too long. Sure, you want to have your me time (it's fine, we all do) but you also can't stand not having company around. Like, you'll randomly decide to stay in and spend some time alone but then you'll get upset and start calling your friends and family. A friend of mine cannot stand being alone for too long, even if we spend the whole day together, he hates being home on his own, to the point where he sometimes straight up takes the bus back to his hometown. It's wonderful that you enjoy spending so much time with others (I could never, lolll) but try picking up a hobby when you don't have the chance to be around people as much. It'll kind of distract you from loneliness and give you the chance to have some quality time with yourself 🧩

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Thank you for reading, hope you have a wonderful day 💙

Edit: Bonus Observations

So a lot of you guys commented that Aquarius actually prefers solitude and could easily pass time all by themselves, so I looked into the charts of the social Aquas I know irl and see what it is that makes them so outgoing and talkative;

(I didn't include houses because I haven't gotten to confirm their birth times)

• My friend has Saturn in Gemini, which can make people talkative in any situation (I also have this placement and, although I see myself as an introverted homebody, I am surprisingly pretty chatty and enjoy going out with people that make me happy). Truly, he always gives something to talk about with everyone he knows, sometimes he'll start a conversation with another friend of his while I'm standing there not knowing what to say or do in the meantime, like 🧍‍♀️?

• He also has Mars in Sagittarius and Jupiter in Leo; energetic, lively and outgoing, thrives when surrounded by people. He almost never gets tired of hanging out with people, my low social battery could never 😅

• Other than her sun, my mom also has Aquarius in her Mercury, which makes her friendly and likeable, plus she enjoys conversing with people.

• Another thing about my mom, her placements are a bit contradictory; She has Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Virgo, and Uranus and Pluto in Libra - These indicate shyness, independence and introversion. Truly, she prefers doing things on her own most of the time and doesn't open up to just anyone. She also used to be very shy around my age (probably because of Virgo moon?). However, she also has Jupiter and Neptune in Sagittarius, which make her more adventurous, outgoing, charming and humorous. So that would probably explain this whole 'outgoing yet independent yet still can't be lonely' vibe she gives me.

Hope this explains a bit better why I had this image of Aquas at first, thanks for sharing your thoughts in the comments!

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thebroccolination · 3 months ago

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The J&A group NEWS is one of the most lore-packed music groups I’ve ever followed and I wish I had the energy to make an entire video essay about them. They started with nine members in 2003 and immediately lost a member before they formally debuted. He later became the fucking front man of ONE OK ROCK (yes, Taka, formerly known as Mori while he was with NEWS for those precious six minutes). Then they lost two more members shortly afterward when one got busted for underage drinking and kicking a cop car, and the other one for underage smoking. Then the group was suspended because what the fuck y’all get it together. A few years later, after their comeback as six, the two most popular members quit at the same time essentially because they’d never actually wanted to be there in the first place. One of the two had actually been debuted in TWO GROUPS because J&A was quirky like that, and because he’d always had an obvious preference for the other one, no one was too upset with him. That left the remaining FOUR in a bizarre limbo because while two of them could sing, the other two were basically The Other Two (don’t get mad I was half-seriously parasocially in love with one of them so I can say it) and a ton of the higher-ups at J&A thought of them as “a strawberry shortcake without the strawberries”—A THING ONE OF THEM OVERHEARD SOMEONE SAY ABOUT THEM. So they pulled off a comeback as four, which was actually sort of perfect because NEWS has four letters, so it introduced a fun new design scheme. Three kept their original member colors, but the oldest took over the Leader position and changed from orange to purple, which was sweet in its own way because he didn’t want to take away red, the color of their original Leader (the popular one who basically left to focus on a solo career and acting). The four of them go strong for several years, putting out some of the best music in J&A, and putting on some of the best concerts I’ve ever been to, and the general reception is, “They were good before but this configuration fits better—and they all want to be here!” There’s also some fun stuff in there, like how one of The Other Two feels the sting of being half of The Other Two so he runs with the smart thing he has going for him and writes a novel, and a LOT of people are like, “Hey, it kind of seems like the douchebag character in your book resembles your former Leader,” and he’s like, “nOOOOOO definitely a coincidence ha ha ha.” (Yes he’s the one I was sort-of committed to spiritually but it wasn’t a big deal I’m over it ha ha ha.) THEN, the wildest shit ever happens: in spite of their very serious pact as four to stay together and spare each other the continued trauma of shedding members, their best vocalist decides, “I’m bored I’m gonna go,” and skips off without remorse. He’s probably a controversial figure in some circles but the way I see it, if you followed NEWS for more than ten minutes you knew this dude had no loyalties stronger than his loyalty to himself and expecting anything else from him was a fool’s errand. Basically, he was always gonna dip, it was just a matter of when. He also wrote a gossipy tell-all book that made casualties of the former members in such a bitchy fashion he’s honestly iconic for airing his pettiness after years of pretending he forgave them for the group’s image. Like remember the member who left because he was in two groups and I said no one really held it against him? Our gossiping queen basically called him a coward and said he never would’ve left if the Leader hadn’t left first, and we were all like, “I mean, yeah, we figured he left because the timing was convenient, but ooooooh.” And then I stopped following them because my favorite duo Tackey & Tsubasa disbanded and my heart wasn’t in following J&A groups anymore, but NEWS is still making music in 2024 and I’m genuinely really happy for the three left because they’ve gotta be tired but at least they have each other. /closing credits

#news jpop #johnnys #johnny and associates #jpop #i still love a good metric ton of news music #they have such an upbeat sound #haven’t listened to their stuff as three but #i hate to say it but they really needed tegoshi lol #and he knows it too and i’m sure it warms his egotistical little heart

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naamahdarling · 4 months ago

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Stuff under cut.

Anyway, I'm very tired. The Jeebers take work, still. They are so mannerless, just a vast untrammeled wilderness of horrible behavior, and it makes me HAPPY somehow. Their liveliness I guess. Their utter self-possession and minimal reliance on us, their understanding of themselves as cats and not human companions, the solid unit they form together, perfect balance between brave and careful, both stubborn, both bold, never having had to survive for a moment on their own, but so deeply and quintessentially feline in their instincts that I have no doubt that if they had been forced to, they would have easily been able to do so.

I have to alter a great deal of that to make them good companions, but it'll be worth it. Right now they're tiny chaotic roommates who come up to me at random intervals, lick my face for a few moments, and go dashing off to find some other mischief to be in. I sit there on the couch sometimes and watch them race around, skidding around corners, Jasper jumping out at Juniper and starting games, Juniper laying her ears flat and lashing her tail and squinting her eyes, and then going right for his fucking throat, going for the full body tackle, even though she's so much smaller than he is. Getting thrown by him over and over, and not caring, just washing his ears and then starting all over again.

It's good that they're here. It isn't the dynamic or the situation I would prefer, I know I keep saying that, but it's very true. But I still don't regret a single thing. They are unruly and don't do very many of the things that we like our pets to do, but all of that is mostly charming, and the parts that are not will pass.

I've been feeling the urge to do creative things again. I'm tidying up the studio as best I can around the babies, and I'll be able to work again soon. I have one project I'm particularly excited about, and I desperately want to post about it but I can't, because it's a surprise for my boyfriend for Christmas. I've never done anything quite like it, and I'm excited. I also have all of the memorial things for the boys that I need to make. A big box to hold all of their mementos, that sort of thing. And I have a project for a relative that is long overdue. AND there is a really fun thing for myself that will fit in nicely around the edges.

Hopefully I will have the energy and the spoons to get it all done. A lot of the work is going to tug on the heartstrings. All of it, actually, with the exception of the thing I'm going to do for myself. Which means I really should try to do it alongside everything else so I can give myself a break.

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artist-issues · 7 months ago

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Could you rank the album Blurryface and explain your rankings, please? Thanks and have a blessed day!

my brain

yay

Listen readers, if you like my posts about Disney movies & classic books & Old Hollywood or whatever, or if we’ve ever crawled into a story together and deepened our perspective on that story in one of my posts, but you’ve never cared about twenty one pilots, just trust me and read a little bit of this post. I want to show you something so good.

This is my favorite question in a long time. But you have the key to the obsession-corner of my brain, and you let yourself in, so this is a BIG rambling post, and you brought this upon yourself, and I’m very glad

Okay! I’m going to rank it concept-wise. As in, I’m going to rank it based on how in-depth and well-thought-out and excellently-communicated the ideas in the songs’ lyrics are. Because I don’t know anything about music—so any part of the rankings that are affected by something musical are that way because of personal preference, not because I know what I’m talking about. I recommend taking it slow, every one could be its own post because I suck at being succinct. 🙄

14. Lane Boy

I’m not going to defend myself, something had to go last, and everybody knows I’d rather listen to Lane Boy than any non-twenty-one-pilots song, and I think it blows any secular non-twenty-one-pilots song out of the water. So there. But it’s last on the list just because I think the concepts in the song don’t have as much brain-dissecting meat, and eternal value, as the other songs on the album. Other songs are about how we compartmentalize our issues, or they’re about mankind’s messed up state, or they’re about the dichotomy of fear and love.

And then this song is basically just about how twenty one pilots goes where they want to, musically, and doesn’t bow to the music industry or the patterns of what’s popular. But they’re tempted to. And that makes perfect sense, because on an album where he’s fighting his insecurities, being insecure about what “The Audience” thinks of you fits on the list.

I think the best part of the song is the lyric “don’t trust a perfect person and don’t trust a song that’s flawless.” From what I observe about Tyler Joseph, he actually does care whether or not a song, or a performance, is as good as it can possibly be. That’s super clear. But what’s also clear is that he believes in singing about something real, especially real flaws he has, so that other people can relate and use the information. So I don’t think he’s saying “don’t trust a perfect person and don’t trust a song that has no technical issues and couldn’t be any better.” I think he’s saying, “don’t trust a person who claims to be perfect, or their vague meaningless songs that don’t reveal their flaws.” (You know, when we gonna stop with it / lyrics that mean nothing, we were gifted with thought-type stuff.)

Which is still pretty deep, in a song that on the surface is saying “I know the music industry and genre-fans have expectations but I do what I want.”

Side note: I love the aesthetics of the music video and the “tempted by control, controlled by temptation” voiceover they used to do for the concerts with this song. The whole idea that Fame and Success have to be in hazmat suits, with gas masks on, is awesome. I don’t care if the concept is “Fame and Success can’t even deal with us, and all the insecurity we talk about in our songs,” or “Fame and Success are always interacting with songs that are rotting, dead, already on their way out of relevance.” It works either way. It’s cool either way.

But let’s just be real. It stabs me in the heart every time he sings the line, “if it wasn’t for this music I don’t know how I would’ve fought this.”

Like. Really? You don’t? If it wasn’t for music, you don’t know how you would’ve fought the dark thoughts? There’s nothing else you can think of, nothing else that specifically works against dark thoughts, that you might want to clue people in on? In a song that’s about not making decisions motivated by remaining popular, you’re going to point them to your own music as the only weapon you know of which works?

When you set yourself up to tell them that Jesus Christ is the hope that lasts eternally, not just moment-to-moment? When you could’ve said that you know a an everlasting Light in times of darkness? No?

So this one gets skipped more often than the others, and I know for a fact it’s because even subconsciously I don’t want to hear that line. I hope I’m wrong about it. I bet I am. I don’t think he meant all that. I think he was looking for a way to conclude that “I know about pain and darkness and that’s what should be in songs” thought, in a way that rhymed and sounded good. But still.

12. Tear in My Heart

(note: the list got out of order here because tumblr’s post editor is the worst and I couldn’t fix it. but Tear in My heart is ranked one higher than Stressed Out, that’s all you need to know.)

I like it when Tyler Joseph picks a concept that’s simple and then reminds everybody how true it is by talking about it like he does with Tear in My Heart. “Love hurts.” That’s a simple concept. “Yeah okay we know.” But in this song I listen to it and I want to be like “No, do you get it, love, giving all of who you are, even the messed up parts, to somebody and letting them do whatever they want with that, hurts. Not just because you’re afraid they’ll reject you—but because you’re afraid they won’t reject you, you’re afraid they’ll stay, which is harder and demands more of you, and you’re afraid they’ll see you, and change you.” Yes, change. For the better.

That’s the point of the music video. He’s looking around at everybody but he can’t see them clearly, everything warps around when he tries to meet their eyes. But not with his wife (then fiancée, I guess.) They see each other clearly. And then she beats the Blurryface out of him. Because that’s what real love does. It doesn’t ignore your flaws or accept your flaws. It sacrifices to help you grow out of your flaws. And that hurts! That’s uncomfortable! That’s Eustace getting un-dragoned in The Chronicles of Narnia.

But it’s also the best thing for the loved one. And! He introduces the whole idea with “sometimes you gotta bleed to know / that you’re alive and have a soul.” When you’re just in your comfort zone, even if it’s a bad place, you go numb. It’s scary to propose to somebody, or show them who you really are, or tell them how you really feel, but the good that comes with it is exhilarating.

And he uses the words, “she’s the tear in my heart,” which, if you dissect that: the medical term is SCAD, and the result of a tear in the heart are basically anywhere from irregular heartbeat (heart skipping a beat. aww. they’re in love and stuff.) to heart attack, (she has the power to bring him to a jarring halt) to slowed heartbeat. (She can also calm him down.) Even a more zoomed-out idea of the lyric, where you just picture what happens when you cut a tear in a heart, is a great metaphor in this context: blood gets out. It was safe and nobody knew what he was feeling. Now what’s inside his heart is finally visible. Because of her.

One more, one more! “She’s a butcher with a smile.” I love that he said ‘butcher.’ A butcher’s whole job is to follow a plan, and neatly organize, arrange, sort, the meat. From what I understand, a butcher typically follows the muscle routes that are already there. It’s not mad hacking and wanton destruction; it’s thought out. There’s a purpose. There’s even usually a plan, a map they’re following. He could’ve said “she’s a cutthroat,’” or “killer” or even “cutter.” But when there was nothing on the page, he chose to put “butcher, carver.” Purposeful cuts.

And he keeps it on-theme, with the album. Because like I said, the whole album of Blurryface is about insecurity—but it’s about fighting insecurity, and the number-one weapon he uses is putting that insecurity on display. Shining a spotlight on it. Because when you’re insecure about something you try to cover that up. You try to compensate for it, direct attention away from whatever you can;t control. Letting everyone see the thing you’re insecure about is hard and you feel exposed, but that action is actually the reverse of insecurity. Doing so with his wife is the best.

13. Stressed Out

This one is this far down because it’s about wishing for the comfort of simple, nostalgic things when in reality you’re freaked out about the future and the present. And that’s a really relatable concept, for a song, and it’s not super deep. We all do it. But it’s still on-theme, which is what makes the song feel deeper.

I like to get lost in the past because it’s what I know. (And the opposite of shat I know/what I can control is? Insecurity.)

If I have to choose between a difficult adventure in the present, or a painful memory to over-analyze, I’m always going to reach for the painful memory even though it’s a sucky headspace, and nothing new and helpful is likely to come of it. Why? Because I know what happens in that reel in my head. I feel control over it just by knowing what happens. But I don’t feel that control when I spin myself out imaging what could happen, and all the things I can’t control, in the present or the future.

Yeah, I’d rather go back and wax nostalgic for the days I played outside with my siblings, or the houses we used to live in, then think about how rent is due in a couple of weeks or how I might never get to have the career everybody expects me to have. So it’s very relatable.

The thing I don’t like about this one is that it doesn’t have that hopeful note in it that I like in twenty one pilots. It kind of goes, “yeah, wish we could turn back time, but everyone tells us to quit dreaming and make money, and it sucks.” And…that’s it. In the song, itself, there’s no hopeful conclusion. Versus in Tear in My Heart, at least he’s feeling like he has a soul and he’s “higher” than he’s ever been, and the butcher is smiling. At least in Fairly Local, there’s, “I’m not evil to the core / what I shouldn’t do I will fight.” But not in Stressed Out. Stressed Out leaves you dissatisfied, and maybe that’s the point.

11. We Don’t Believe What’s On TV

I love the progression of the ideas in this song (because it does come right after Polarize;) he’s actually taken a hard step. He’s not just standing at a crossroads between decisions, being insecure and never moving. The lyrics are “I need to know that when I fail, you’ll still be here.” He can’t fail if he’s not trying. So I like that the song has such a happy beat, and it’s the first one on the record (unless you count Heavydirtysoul) where he’s not just thinking about being insecure or what to do—he’s committing to doing something.

And then I find the song super relatable. The thing about having a dream is that when you chase it you risk a lot. You risk money, you risk time. You risk your emotions, obviously. So anyone close to you is going to notice you’re chasing after something. It’ll become part of your identity. Like me, proclaiming that I was going to work for Disney for years. If you fail, what do you say to all the people who knew you were shooting for that goal? How will they see you? As a quitter? As a failure? Are they going to feel sorry for you? Maybe it’ll be hard to talk about the things you used to talk about—and then they don’t know what else to make small-talk about. Not only your big direction in life is gone, but now something as comfortable as talking with friends is suddenly affected. And from there it’s easy to go, “wait, who am I without that dream I was going after?”

So the lines “what if my dream does not happen? / would I just change what I’ve told my friends? / don’t wanna know who I would be / when I wake up from a dreamer’s sleep” are spot-on. And they uncover the unattractive side of having a dream: the side where you fail and lose and feel like you don’t know who you are without it, so maybe you cover it up by “changing” the dream, or acting like you never really wanted that anyway, or act like you’ve found something new, to cover the loss.

But I also love the fact that the song is about how superficial things aren’t really what matter—your “dream” isn’t who you are. And the people who really love you and care about you know that, so when the dream goes away, they’ll stick around. Just like how Tyler says he doesn’t care about what’s superficial about them: “I don’t care what’s in your hair, I just want to know what’s on your mind.”

Fun fact: when I bring twenty one pilots up for any reason my father responds with “yeah-yeah-yeah” by default.

10. Ride

Ride is only higher than WDBWOTV because of the rapping verses. And not because it’s the one twenty one pilots song my father allows me to play when I’m in the car with him.

This feels a little repetitive, but I like Ride because it’s what twenty one pilots is about. They’re all about thinking carefully about what’s going on in your head and then making a decision to live for something. (I wish they’d come out and say that “something” is God, but whatever.) Ride is all about that. Living rather than dying is hard, especially when it means living, not coming up with meaningless extreme scenarios where you can imagine dying for someone, or staying happy all the time, or conquering your foes. It just means taking your time, and as life rides along, being careful to live for something day by day. Then again, it is a song that’s still just about thinking about what to do, instead of doing it.

9. The Judge

I think this is one of the clearest allusions to the Gospel Tyler Joseph ever makes, and I love the way he makes it. First off, that by saying he can’t tell if the song is about himself or the devil, he’s acknowledging that he, on a sinful level, is just as worthy of condemnation as the Devil.

That’s why he says, “found my way, right time, wrong place, as I pled my case.” You plead your case, in front of THE Judge, when you’re dead. So it’s the right time—everybody has a date on the calendar when they’re going to die, they just don’t know what it is yet. But it’s the wrong place—he’s in front of God, and he doesn’t deserve to be, any more than the Devil. But that’s why he’s pleading his case by freely admitting his soul matches Hell, not Heaven, so all that’s left is to beg that The Judge be merciful.

I like the mood of the second verse, where it feels like he starts describing what’s going on ‘three lights are lit but the fourth one’s out / I can tell cuz it’s a big darker than the last night’s bout,” etc., but then when he gets to “but I’m not good with directions” he speeds his flow up and sounds like he’s getting panicky. He’s giving excuses for why he’s lost—well why? Because he’s bad at directions. Listening to what he’s told to do, and then following through. And then just admitting that one flaw as an explanation for why he’s lost leads to admitting other flaws, at random, like he can’t stop himself: “I’m a pro at imperfections and I’m best friends with my doubt.”

I personally think, because of the context, that the three lights which are lit, but the fourth one that is out, are representative of Tyler not being clear about his faith. I think it’s an allusion to Peter, denying Christ 3 times (like Tyler already alluded to in Ode to Sleep.) But in Ode to Sleep, Tyler follows up the line about 4-denials with “metaphorically I’m a whore.” My take is, he’s only a whore metaphorically—because in Christ, he’s a new creation. But he keeps talking like he isn’t, worrying over his relationship with God and whether or not he’s really saved. Maybe because he struggles with doubting God keeps His promises, maybe because he struggles with doubting God is real, maybe both.

And after all, what was Peter doing when he denied Christ? He was denying specifically that he knew Christ. That he was in a relationship with Him, that he followed Christ. Peter was basically saying over and over, “I’m not a disciple of Christ. I’m not! I don’t know him!” to the people who ask. But it wasn’t true. Peter was Christ’s disciple; Christ chose him, and that’s what made the denial so hurtful.

So I think the lights going out, one by one, and he can tell that a season of that doubt is coming on, are his cue to leave. Get out of there, that place where darkness is creeping up, and go somewhere sunnier. But he can’t get there, because he’s not good at directions, and then he kind of spirals and goes back into the chorus realizing he never had any right to be “Christ’s disciple” in the first place, that’s true, and his only hope is the mercy of The Judge. Which is great, not something to despair over. Because The Judge is merciful.

But the cool part is there’s still an element of “insecurities” in there, distracting him from what would ultimately be a good place. It’s good to realize you’ve got nothing, and to realize that if you could wriggle out of God’s embrace, you would do it every time. Because then you realize all over again that He is merciful and He loves you, and you’re secure because it’s all based on His strength. So that particular cycle is good—when it ends with that realization. But instead, he’s getting hung up, not on “what will God think of me when He realizes (even though He knew it all along) that I’m unworthy?” but on “what will everyone outside my house think of me when they realize I’m unworthy?”

And when that happens, when you’re focused not on what God thinks of you, but on what others think of you, because of your insecurities, you can satisfy yourself, not with God’s love, but with pulling the wool over other people’s eyes. Maybe the people outside your house see the real, unworthy you—but you can cover that up. You can fool them. You can compensate for those insecurities, front, be fake. God always sees you clearly, but the people around you can be fooled into thinking you’re an okay person, and you have your act together. So his insecurities, Blurryface, is hijacking the cycle that would’ve led him to rely on The Judge and making him chase after the opinion of his peers, instead.

Instead of focusing on who God is, which is the hope in everything, Blurryface gets him to focus on who he is—whether that leads him to a revel or despair, doesn’t matter, as long as he’s not focusing on who God is.

I love this song.

8. Hometown

”My shadow tilts its head at me

Spirits in the dark are waiting

I will let the wind go quietly,

I will let the wind go quietly.” <- Those are some of my favorite lyrics ever. Ever ever. Why would a shadow tilt its head at you? Because it’s creepy interesting imagery, yeah, but also, because it’s puzzled. But it’s your shadow. So you’re looking at it like you’re puzzled, too, because shadows don’t move independently; either the light source is moving, or you are.

So the character Blurryface is puzzled because he’s trying to figure Tyler Joseph out—like Tyler is trying to figure him out—and/or because the light is on the move. What light is mentioned in this song? The sun. Which, in all their other songs, is representative of God or the kingdom of God.

Either way, all the insecurities and flaws and doubt that Blurryface embodies doesn’t understand God, or actions made in faith. So he’s puzzled in this song; because this song is about the songwriter begging God to do for him what he can’t do.

I don’t care. That’s what the song’s about. Tyler Joseph does his clever triple-meaning thing, so you can say that the song is about how people back home in Columbus, Ohio don’t really get twenty one pilots’ deep lore and metaphors, and that’s what the song is about—how people back home still don’t know who they are because they’re least famous among people who know them best—but that doesn’t cover the lyrics about “take me home and show me the sun/Son,” or “bring the fire, my bones will make it grow.” And a faith-based interpretation of the lyrics does.

(I mean, obviously, people can sing the song to themselves and assign whatever meaning they want. That’s fine. That’s how using words works. But I’m saying that what the songwriter meant can be understood by the lyrics he chose in the song—and if it can’t, then he didn’t want to be understood or was bad and making himself clear, and that’s just bad communication/useless artwork. But neither of those explanations are descriptive of Tyler Joseph.)

The first verse is what the songwriter wants to have happen—the place he’s from is dark, it’s without the Sun/Son, he wants to go Home, and he can’t do it without dying to himself, and only God can pull that off.

But the second verse is a call to action, for everyone listening, not just a plea for himself out of what he’s feeling. And that action really does have something to do with the temporal “hometown.” You can grow up hearing about God, one way or another, but eventually, you encounter darkness on your own. You realize you’re messed up, whether anyone else sees it or not. And that’s when you can either be insecure and give up, or you can look for salvation. But at that point, you have to look for salvation in something outside “tradition” and just “what the people around you believe.” You have to find out if any of that is rooted in truth, and then choose to believe it yourself. Whether anyone else, including the people who helped make you who you are, from your hometown, agrees or disagrees.

In Christianese we say “make your faith your own.” Even if you grow up in church there comes a time when you have to decide if that’s what you believe, whether your parents drop the faith or not. But it’s not just a church thing. It’s a universal, worldview thing. Even if you grow up in an atheistic community you have to decide, at some point, if you believe that, as an individual. Be introspective and decide what you believe, what you’re going to live for—the message of the band.

And of course, the language he uses is so overtly Biblical! It’s from Joshua 24. And the context of that passage is, God has finally given the Israelites rest from all their enemies, and Joshua, the faithful one who has led them in their homeland, is telling them that it’s decision time. If they choose to serve God, it’ll cost them everything. They can’t serve God and the pagan, materialistic idols their fathers fell to. It’s one or the other. He knows it’s a huge ask, and an impossible ask, actually, because God is Holy. God has to give you the grace to follow Him (same conclusion Tyler sometimes gets to in The Judge.) Here’s the verse, enough of my yammering:

“If it is evil in your sight to serve Yahweh, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served which were beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my house, we will serve Yahweh.”

Then later, after the Israelites say that’s what they want to do, they want to serve Yahweh, he repeats,

“So now, put away the foreign gods which are in your midst, and incline your hearts to Yahweh, the God of Israel.”

And this whole passage is really interesting, because Joshua is telling them to do this in the same place, geographically, that Jacob, their ancestor, hundreds of years before, had commanded his own family to bury false idols in the ground and turn to Yahweh. So when he says “put away,” it’s in reference to that moment; their earliest forefathers had a pattern of chasing after the beliefs and false hopes of the world, and then needing to bury those and follow God instead.

Anyway. This song is awesome because it’s about him coming to, in Christianese: “the end of himself.” The lyrics say that nothing about a human being knows the secret to redeeming souls. Only God knows that; only God can do that. So in an album that’s all about interviewing yourself, fighting the worst parts of you, trying to figure out how to beat Blurryface, Hometown says, “aaaand you can’t. You can’t do it. But God can. You don’t have the secret, you don’t have the playbook. But God does.”

7. Goner

This song is higher than Hometown because I like that when he does something slower and more complex, lyrically, without the same speedy metaphors, it’s just a straight-up war cry.

It is kind of a complicated song, though. I think. Because I can’t decide what exactly he was aiming for. Sometimes I listen to it and I think it’s about the songwriter fighting Blurryface, refusing to give up, and parts of the song could be sung by the hero, while others are answered by the villain, during that fight.

But sometimes I listen to it and I think he’s declaring that the fight is already over, (after all, it’s at the end of the album) but he knows it’s a cycle and he might get dragged back into the doubt that starts it all over again. “I’m a goner.”

Or, sometimes, I listen to it and I think it’s just a recap of everything the album teaches: 1) I’m messed up 2) but I’m not a hopeless case 3) but I’m tempted to hide the messed-up part 4) the only way to fix the messed-up part is to admit it, get it out where everyone can see it 5) but even then I can’t fix it, and they’ll all see I’m unworthy 6) Remembering unconditional love and grace fixes it.

Being “known” is the opposite of what the Blurryface character should want. Because again, insecurity is all about avoiding the things that make you afraid, make you feel out-of-control, and putting up a front like you’re fine. You make decisions based on what you want people to see, out of a desire for control. That’s why he’s called “Blurryface.” You don’t get to see his face. You don’t get to know the real him, because the real him’s messed up, and he can’t let anyone see that.

I think the one interpretation I vaguely settle on when I hear the song is that, if all you ever focus on is how to control everything and pretend you’re not messed-up—if all you ever put on is that “blurry face” mask—pretty soon you convince yourself, along with everybody else, that that’s who you are. You start to forget the real you. You can’t see your own flaws anymore—but hiding them is still puppetting everything you do, so ironically, they’re in control. Luckily, the people you’ve opened up to (if you ever have) and God, remind you of who you really are. So that humbles you, and saves you, from just being totally fake.

One thing about the actual lyrics. The fact that he says “the ghost of you is close to me” supports all of those above interpretations. Could be the Holy Spirit (you know, “Holy Ghost”) being closest to the singer when he’s “inside out,” being vulnerable, seeing himself for what he really is and admitting it. Could be the character, Blurryface, who’s been defeated but maybe Tyler forgets that, and feels “haunted” by insecurities that should already be harmless if he’d just remember what killed them.

I see some people saying that what he means is, Blurryface is so intertwined as a part of himself that he doesn’t know what would be left of him if all his insecurities died. I think that’s super bleak. But I can see why it would be that. If it is, it doesn’t bode well for Tyler or anyone who agrees. If you’re already at the point where your weaknesses and insecurities are something you identify with, something you think belongs in you, instead of a foreign contaminant that your soul’s antibodies need to purge, then…you’re really forgetting the Gospel. That’s not who you are anymore. It’s as much a part of you as a set of dirty clothes that you took off when you were 4; even if you’re cramming them back on, that doesn’t make them part of who you are.

I also frequently see people saying, “he’s not just asking for God’s help, he’s asking for anybody’s help! He says ‘somebody’ catch my breath!” Right. But then he says, “I wanna be known by you.” And in Kitchen Sink, it’s clear Tyler Joseph doesn’t believe anybody can know him, fully. Also, Anathema. Also, on this album, Not Today, and Message Man. There are too many lyrics where he explains that he doesn’t think anybody can know him—except God, who, in The Judge, and in other twenty one pilots songs, is depicted as the only one who can see all the way down to the bedrock of who Tyler Joseph is. And who all of us are. Hidden insecurities pulling the strings and all. So when he calls for help, he might be willing to accept anybody, but only God is going to be able to deliver, in the very end. (Friends and his wife can help, but in the end.)

Personally I believe the songwriter knows that. Based on the evidence in everything he writes. I don’t know for sure, though.

Anyway. I love that he ended the album with this song. Specifically, it’s not until the very last note that everything is resolved, and sounds like there’s some kind of peace, some kind of vanquishing of Blurryface. Like the fight is definitely taking everything to win. But Blurryface does lose; there is hope; that’s what I like about twenty one pilots.

It’s that Halloween-style “using darkness to show how weak darkness can be.”

6. Not Today

The concepts I’m talking about liking are getting repetitive, but that’s because he comes at the same topic (battling insecurities) from different angles, dropping into the same cycle at different points. But it’s still the same topic, same cycle.

Anyway! I love Not Today because of how awesome the lyrics are in the chorus, in response to the lyrics in the verses.

He keeps the metaphor of a house in there, but those first lyrics: “I just feel I’m better off, staying in the same room I was born in,” have this lie. The room you’re born in could mean you’ve never grown, never taken any chance, you’ve literally never moved from where you started. Especially because he gives a reason for it; he’s seen the world outside, and he doesn’t see what he can do to impact it for the better. <- That part is why I don’t think those lyrics mean “it would be better if I were never born.” Even though the same basic idea, that he thinks he has nothing to offer, is in both interpretations.

But because of that melodic (is that the right word) pause between “I don’t know why” and “I just feel I,” in the opening line, I think you can miss the meaning of the full thought. He’s admitting he feels this way, but he’s not accepting it, necessarily. Because the whole song is a strike back at “Blurryface.” He admits how he feels, but the fact that he starts with “I don’t know why I feel this way” is a clue that he’s examining the feeling, instead of trusting and accepting it as fact. It’s true that he feels that way. But he’s not making it his home. He didn’t even pick the words, “staying in the same home I was born in.” Or unlike in The Judge, he doesn’t use a possessive objective. He doesn’t say “my room I was born in,” not just because it would sound weird, but also because he’s in a headspace where he’s not accepting these feelings at “face” value.

So I love that opening.

Then, in the first chorus, he’s basically talking about how those dark thoughts, those insecurities, aren’t just in his head anymore. They’re out in the open. Where everyone else can see them—yikes, maybe—but he’s focusing on the fact that they’re out where he can see them. Insecurity wants to hide and fake. Getting it out in the open is step 1 in the right direction. Now the lies, the insecurity, can’t get to him the way it used to when he kept it in his mind as if it were something worth entertaining or identifying with.

Then I like that he takes a break in the second chorus to be like, “pay attention to what I’m doing, the sound of the music is happy but the words are not.”

Because he’s feeling like there’s no use in trying—bad thing. But he’s not giving in to that feeling, he’s examining it for weaknesses—good thing. Happening at the same time. Like the happy sounds, but down words, of the song.

Which just makes you feel like you’re watching a battle. Which one is going to win? The good or the bad? Right now they’re both in the picture—what’s going to be the killing blow that knocks one out of the picture?

Then he goes back into the chorus, but this time I think the words have a different meaning, even though they’re the same: he took that aside to address the audience and explain what’s going on. So the lines in the second chorus, “you aren’t seeing my side,” seem like he’s still talking to us, telling the listeners that they haven’t been understanding what’s going on in his head as he fights his insecurities, but now he’s showing them, which is what they needed to wait for: you can’t know what someone’s going through or how they need help till they choose to let you see.

Then there’s the bridge about him fighting someone for testing him. Which I think people mostly take to mean “I’LL KILL YOU BLURRYFACE.” But I don’t think that’s what he’s saying.

I mean it’s fine. That could be why. But I think it kind of misses the fact that a dude who insists, “just because I play the piano doesn’t mean I am not willing to take you down,” is insecure. That’s an insecure thing to say. He thinks people are going to see him as weak. And he just throws out “because I play the piano” as like, an example of what he thinks people are judging him about. And he’ll fight them. But then immediately he’s like “I’m sorry.” And it’s funny, I love that whole lyric, my family always joins in on that part because it’s fun to sing.

But the point, I think, is so smart—he’s back to saying something insecure. He has an outburst about how others see him. Then he says “sorry.” But it’s even an insecure, embarrassed-sounding apology. So this verse transitions out of talking to the listener about what he’s insecure about, into, while he’s at it, worrying about what they think of him—and whoops, that was a Blurryface moment, wasn’t it? He was supposed to be fighting that. He was supposed to be examining it. He just slipped into it again, suddenly, and the mood of the song is an involuntary explosion, like he couldn’t help it. So then the next chorus, the changed one, is more of a confession of being messed-up, all over again. “I’m, I’m out of my mind / I’m not seeing things right / I waste all this time trying to run from you, but I’m, I’m out of my mind.” It’s “I’m out of my mind” in the traditional sense—he’s crazy, as in, he doesn’t see reality, even when he’s looking at himself. And you could take that “I waste all this time trying to run from you” as him trying to run and hide his messed-up self from others—which is a waste, because it’s born of insecurity—or you could take it as him running from God. Of course. Both work, for this moment in the song.

But. I think the chorus is the best part. It sounds like two recordings of Tyler Joseph’s voice is singing this part, so I can see why people think it’s a duel between him and the character Blurryface: he’s singing, “not today, let me rip open the windows—now I dare you to make yourself heard.” If he voices his insecurity, the people who love him will come help. But maybe the character Blurryface is singing that right back to him; “not today, let me rip open the windows—now I dare you to make yourself heard.” As if taunting him with the idea that people who hear the real Tyler Joseph may not accept him; if he’s exposed, he shouldn’t draw any attention to himself.

But for all that effort I put into verbalizing how I’ve seen the take that the chorus is Tyler Joseph and Blurryface fighting each other, I don’t 100% agree with it. Because it doesn’t make sense, based on the well-established idea that Blurryface is insecurity—and insecurity would never do this: “tore the curtains down, windows open now make a sound.”

The whole rest of the album takes the tack that turning yourself inside-out, showing people the real, messed-up you, being open, is exactly what the character Blurryface wouldn’t want. He’d never be saying anything so clear as what’s in the chorus.

I mean. Time out. Not to get too geeky in this already-absurdly-long post. But everything about the character was against that. He’s blurry. You can’t see the real him, his face. He doesn’t even like that he has a name, or has been distinguished from Tyler Joseph in any way. In all those cryptic videos from what I can remember of social media before the album came out, you never saw him, even though he was the one supposedly recording. And the videos made no clear sense, I feel like I remember one being just, like, a dark shot of the woods at night and like breathing or something. In the in-character Twitter posts, he can’t spell—he can’t even type anything that he has to say clearly, because clarity itself is a kind of commitment in communication, it tells people something about you one way or another, and Blurryface doesn’t want anyone to be able to hold him to anything he says.

So no, I don’t think he’s got any part in the chorus. I could be wrong. But I don’t think I am. I think it’s someone from the outside, who knows the fight going on inside Tyler Joseph with Blurryface, breaking in. Ripping the curtains off the rod. Kicking the windows open, letting the light in. Telling him to get it out there in the open. Or, daring the Blurryface character to say his lies out in the open. And I think it’s God. Because again, we already established, nobody else can see inside of Tyler Joseph, in his entirety, except God. But if it is, then Tyler isn’t just getting scooped out of the fight by God’s rescuing hand. He’s joined in the fight, and then told to keep fighting—and tell other people about it. “Heard your voice, ‘there’s no choice’ / tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise.”

This song would be higher up if it hit me in the emotions as much as Doubt does. That’s how good it is. It’s the big fight scene, but the character Blurryface loses once the house is torn open.

5. Polarize

GGGGR this is taking too long. But I love all of these songs so much, even if Blurryface isn’t my favorite album, I can’t just say succinct things about it.

There’s this interview I watched with Tyler Joseph way back when I was fresh into high school. I don’t remember the exact timeline, or whether or not this album was out already. But he basically talks through Romans 9 without saying so. He tries to explain to the interviewer that he shouldn’t be “messed up.” That that’s not just him being hard on himself, and oh, we’re all imperfect people. He tries to explain that there’s something broken in everyone, that we want to be better than we’re actually capable of being, and that points to the fact that we were designed to be different, and something went wrong. He tries to really organically explain that, but if I remember correctly the interviewer comes back with like another platitude, and I think the subject gets changed. (If I can find it again in the bowels of the Internet from 2013 or whatever it was I’ll post it. It’s what gripped my teenage brain about this band. And about trying to phrase the Gospel that I’d always heard in a way that made sense to people who have never heard.)

But this song is that. It’s him, trying to explain that he’s noticed the polar opposites of his nature. And he’s trying to decide which parts are which, and why, and where the division starts and ends. The problem is, the only One who can help him divide those clearly is God—and surprise surprise, Tyler Joseph’s trust in God is split, too.

This one is ranked so highly because of that. Because instead of just stopping at “I want to do the right thing, but I can’t, so let’s sort that out, and You help me,” he goes even deeper. “Wait, how do I even depend on You to help me when I can’t even decide if you’re there or not?” It’s Semi-Automatic all over again. It takes a different kind of deep thinking to admit that you can’t even ask for help with absolute certainty.

Polarize might get its own separate post.

4. Fairly Local

Fairly Local is this high on the list partly because of the music video and I’m not ashamed.

It’s the introduction to the character of Blurryface, and look at how he can’t make sustained eye contact. I love that.

I also love that the microphone in the music video is a light bulb. Because it’s the words of the song that are illuminating what’s going on in the songwriter’s head.

The duality is just a preview of Polarize, in the lyrics, but I love his vocalizations. Maybe you expected me to say more higher up on the list, but this is too long already, and the more I like it the more I want to make a separate post, if I ever let my obsession out of the locked-door part of my brain on tumblr again. (look now I’m using twenty one pilots imagery, what have you done?)

3. Doubt

This one is this high because he says “even when I doubt you, I’m no good without You.” And he’s talking about God. I might elaborate on that in a different post. I know how this song feels. Getting lost in trying to trace the paths you’ve already gone down in your brain, until even thinking about God isn’t a lifeline as much as it is a maze, because you’re thinking too much about your part in it, and you’re just left reaching out for Him blindly because you can’t see which direction He’s in anymore, in your own brain. And you need something from the outside to reach in and dig you out of yourself, because there’s nothing trustworthy in here anymore. I know how that feels. This song is Addict With a Pen’s sister.

2. Message Man

This one gets its own post for sure. But the lyrics are better than any other song aside from Heavydirtysoul on this album, I think.

1. Heavydirtysoul

This one is top of the list because 1) I don’t think it can take second place to any song musically on this album, and 2) the lyrics sum up the band. I’ll make a post of its own about this one, too.

Is that disappointing? That I went all the way to the top and didn’t give you a thought-out reason for the number one? Well, now you feel some of the insanity I experience when I listen to this band. “What do you mean, you’re stopping there? You took my hand and led me this far and now I have to stumble around in the dark and figure out the rest myself?”

😈

I really may come back and edit it. I’ll tag you if I do. Or just follow the “my favorite band” tag. Hey, thank you so much for this ask! I know I look way too hyper-fixated, but truthfully, they just came out with the new album. And you have to understand, the people around me can’t stand me saying two words about them, because I’ve talked too much about them. So you’ve become my outlet.

If you made it this far I want to hear your opinions, too! I’d do this for every album, but hopefully you learned not to open this can of worms 😂 because then I never stop talking

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