#solo flute is beautiful

[strawberrystainedd]

i love flute so much i hate how unappreciated it is :(:(:(

[poorlittleyaoyao]

You know that bit in The Prince of Egypt when Moses encounters Miriam and Aaron as an adult and Miriam quietly reprises the lullaby portion of “Deliver Us” a cappella, and it’s haunting and impactful in its simplicity?

That’s the vibe Wangji singing Wangxian.mp3 in the cave SHOULD have had, but unfortunately CQL is allergic to ever having the song be diegetic!

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[kosmikowboj]

you know now knowing that as kids shawn played bassoon and gus played clarinet it’s truly criminal there was never an episode involving a local symphony orchestra. like, one of the principal musicians dies—call it the principal flutist—and foul play is suspected, so shawn convinces the chief to let them go undercover. gus is still using his old clarinet, but henry got rid of shawn’s bassoon like ten years ago so shawn makes the department rent him a really nice one. lassiter’s huge qualm this episode is that he thinks shawn and gus are making a mockery of the beauty that is classical music. shawn actually feels very strongly about the case because one of the pieces they’re performing has a majestic bassoon solo that he was supposed to play in the eighth grade until he got stiffed for first chair. gus and jules are the only ones being normal.

lassie and jules end up arresting the second chair flute player because it seems like a jealousy case, but shawn isn’t convinced. he goes down the rabbit hole and uncovers this crazy romance subplot about how the principal bassoonist and the principal flutist were sleeping together, but then the flutist slept with someone else in the orchestra—call it a percussionist (they’re always doing that)—and so he killed her. shawn claims he learned this through the instruments speaking to him. the high stakes moment of the episode is when the bassoonist tries to kill the percussionist, but our fave crew end up saving the day.

the episode ends with shawn and gus playing in the concert and shawn doing the bassoon solo since the principal was arrested for murder. biggest plot twist of all is that he actually sounds pretty good.

another random note is that lassie has it out for the second chair flute because he used to play oboe when he was younger and got relentlessly bullied by the flutes. shawn finds this out and forces bonding between the two of them by sharing his bassoon trauma. lassie does not seem to care. because the percussionist gets injured in the scuffle near the end of the episode, shawn convinces the orchestra director to let lassie play the triangle in the concert. later on in the series, there’s a throwaway line about how shawn can’t get ice cream with gus after a case because he’s busy. there’s a honk outside the psych office and shawn jogs out, gets in lassie’s car, and they go to community orchestra together.

oh also the henry subplot of the episode is that he and the director of the orchestra go way back for some reason and that’s the only reason that shawn and gus are allowed to go undercover. shawn is pissed at henry for getting rid of his bassoon and henry tries to turn it into a lesson about responsibility that is immediately undermined by the department renting one for him.

do you see my vision

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

One Day More (Les Miserables)

Watch 'em run amok (tomorrow you'll be worlds away)/Catch 'em as they fall/Never know your luckWhen there's a free-for-all/We'll be ready for these schoolboys (and yet with you, my world has started)/Tomorrow we'll be far away/Tomorrow is the judgment day/Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store

"You have like ten different choruses all at the same time making a harmonious closing to Act I of Les Miserables."

Super Star Spectacle (Revue Starlight)

It's beautiful, it's dazzling, it's painful, it's frustrating/To take, to be taken from, it's heartrending/Being captivated, growing closer, being attracted, parting/In you, I end up losing myself

"I'm going to try to not say anything about the source material itself and start by saying this song has everything. It has the somber ballad at the start! It has the audio nightmare (loving) for dramatic effect! It has the more upbeat, catchy melody! It has the flute solo! It has the moment where it finally turns somber again, but in a more bittersweet way! Finally, it has the grand closing audio, sending off the song, the scene and the series as a whole! I will admit right now, between the scene it was in and the song itself, I began weeping the first time I heard that ending because of what it represented, and I won't deny that I sometimes cry over it! There might be songs from this series which I ultimately prefer just by a little, but no song fucked me up as much as this one did."

Super Star Spectacle submitted by @insertbrowsinghere

[justmystyles]

literally just came up with this so suddenly but imagine plusiszereader being like an old member of the band or something. like she was apart of the love band back in 2021 but left just to do her own stuff BUT her and harry have been in a relationship since then. it’s obvi private but fans like absolutely love and miss her. then, for the final show when harry is doing the 10 minute ballad she comes out as one of the flute players for one last show and people just going nuts.

then at the end just a shit ton of love dovey stuff like them both crying and comforting each other cause its the final show.

OH LORD IM DELULU YALL

Heart Song

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 1.7k

summary: as a former member of the Love on Tour band, and current girlfriend of Harry, he asks you to reprise your spot for the final show.

a/n: this was such a cute ask, thank you so much for sending it! this is the last final show fic i have planned for the time being. who knows what the future holds? i'm trying to catch up on asks, so if you're waiting on one that you've sent in, keep an eye out!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You sit on the piano bench beside your boyfriend, at a complete loss for words at the song he just played for you. He had been so excited to show you what he was working on, he said that it was a song for his fans, that he wanted to play it for them at his last Love on Tour show.  

“Is it… do you like it?” He asked tentatively. 

“Baby, it’s so beautiful. No words?” He shook his head. “It’s perfect.” 

He grins, his dimples making your heart melt. “Well, almost.” You give him a curious look. “It could use some accompaniment, perhaps a flute?” He said with a wink. 

“Who, me?” Harry laughs at your reaction. “But I haven’t been in your band for a year and a half.”

He takes your hand in his. “And I’ve missed you every show. So have the rest of the band, and the fans too.” 

“I don’t know, Harry.” 

“Please, baby?” He pleaded. “This has been such a huge tour for me. For us. We fell in love on this tour, it would mean the world to me if you were by my side when it was ending.” 

Your expression softened at his words, he was right. You had been hired to play in his band, and got so much more than you bargained for when the two of you fell for each other. You fell hard and fast, but before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Love on Tour. You had only signed on temporarily, leaving to pursue some solo work. Just because you said goodbye to the tour, didn’t mean you were saying goodbye to Harry. The two of you maintained your relationship, keeping it out of the public eye, allowing Harry a modicum of privacy.  

You let out a sarcastic sigh. “Well, I suppose I am going to be there anyway. I was looking forward to just being an audience member, but I guess I could pop onstage for a few minutes.” 

Harry threw his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. “I love you so much, thank you thank you thank you!” 

After finishing Fine Line, Harry retreated to the backstage area to prepare for the encore. This was your cue to head back there yourself to prepare for his final song. Before you head into the changing area, you rush over to the wings, hoping to catch him before he goes back onstage. 

You finally see him, he’s pacing, clearly trying to compose himself. You pause for a moment, debating whether or not you want to bother him, but when his eyes lock on yours you feel drawn to him like a magnet. 

“How are you holding up?” You ask, brushing a loose curl out of his face. 

He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “It’s almost over.” 

“I know baby,” you place your hand on his cheek, stroking gently. “You’ve still got a few more songs, go out there and give it everything you’ve got.” 

“You’re still coming on for the finale?” He asks hopefully. 

“It’s why I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m gonna run and go change real quick.” 

“If I send someone to get your jumpsuit for you, do you think you could just throw it on here?” He pleads. “I need you close while I’m out there. You make me stronger.” 

You smile softly, placing your lips against his in a soft kiss. “Whatever you need, Harry, always.” 

He smiles gratefully, kissing you once more before running up to one of the production assistants, and instructing him to get your outfit and flute from his dressing room. He returns to you, taking your hands in his. “It’ll be here in a second. Thank you, my love.”

“Nothing to thank,” you say plainly. “Nowhere I’d rather be. Now get out there and knock ‘em dead.” 

He brought your hands to his lips, kissing the backs of them, and headed back onstage. You followed as far as you could without being seen so that you could watch his final few songs. You looked on proudly as he gave his all. 

You loved this man with all your heart but more than that, as a musician you admired him more than anything. His dedication to his craft, and his fans, was unwavering. Time and time again he would give himself to everyone, first with the heartfelt music he would write; and then dedicating nearly two years of his life to traveling the world in an effort to bring that music to his fans. 

The PA that Harry had sent to retrieve your things promptly returned, handing you your things. You thanked him quickly, not wanting to take your eyes off of Harry. You slip your jumpsuit on over your clothes, and change into the custom Love on Tour adidas sneakers that had been made for the band. 

Kiwi ended, and Harry waved and bowed to the crowd before running offstage and immediately into your arms. 

“You were amazing, Harry. I’m so proud of you.” You whisper to him. You feel him nod against your neck in reply. 

You allow him a few more moments of comfort before you know you need to set yourself on stage. The band had stayed out there, getting position for this final song. “Baby?” You ask softly, getting his attention as you step back from your embrace. “I’ve gotta get out there, you going to be okay?” 

Harry nods, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “You’ll be close, yeah?” 

You smile at him, placing a comforting hand on his cheek. “Right next to the piano.” You give him one last kiss and make your way to the stage. 

You step out, smiling and nodding at your former bandmates, hearing the whispers and questions from the crowd start to pick up.

“Is that Y/N?”

“He must have asked her to come back for the last show.” 

“But why is she only coming out now?” 

The murmurs quickly turn to cheers when they realize that it is in fact you on stage. This meant that whatever was about to happen was definitely going to be something big. As you waited for Harry to re-emerge, you looked out over the crowd. You had been in the thick of it during the show, but seeing it from the stage was an entirely different experience. 

As you were admiring the hordes of people who had come out just to see Harry, you were pulled from your thoughts by an eruption from the crowd. You looked to your left and watched Harry return to stage, quickly wiping away the remnants of the tears he had shed backstage. 

He took a seat at the piano, looking up at you. When you looked back, you saw a storm of emotions, but mostly you saw vulnerability. Harry was never one to shy away from expressing emotions onstage, but this was different. 

He spoke a few quick words in Italian before moving the microphone away and beginning to play. You had heard him play this song so many times since he had initially brought it to you a few weeks ago, but hearing it like this, as he intended it to be, was an unreal, once in a lifetime experience. The crowd of over one hundred thousand people were completely silent, everyone’s attention directed at Harry. 

You felt a nudge, and your attention quickly turned to your right. You saw the rest of the band preparing to come in, and you remembered that you were there to do a job. Your time just being the supportive girlfriend was on pause, you had to be a musician now. You lifted your flute to your lips, and joined in, your eyes never leaving Harry. 

Before long, the last note was played, and Harry stood from the piano. The crowd burst into cheers and applause like you’d never heard before. He bowed to the crowd before turning to face the band, mostly to express his gratitude to them, but you knew it was also a chance for him to compose himself. 

His eyes locked on you, and he immediately started moving in your direction, wrapping you in his arms. You returned the embrace, rubbing soothing circles over the bejeweled fringe on his back. 

“You did amazing, Harry.” You tell him. “This is all for you, go take it in. You deserve it.” 

He pulls back and gives you a tearful smile before taking your hand and walking to the center of the stage, signaling for everyone else to join. The group takes a bow to thunderous applause. As you all stand, Harry steps forward, drinking in every second of the fanfare. He moved to either end of the stage, thanking the fans by waving and blowing kisses. When he returns to center stage, he pauses again this time dropping to his knees, his hands covering his face. Completely overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment. 

Even though the band is sharing their own moment, hugging and congratulating each other, you are frozen in place, eyes locked on Harry. You were so focused on him that you didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face. 

When he finally stood, he gave the crowd one more smile and wave before turning to exit the stage. As soon as he turned around, he saw you and smiled walking straight for you. You both moved at the same time, cupping each other’s faces in your hands wiping the other’s tears away with your thumbs. Chuckling at the synchronized movements. 

You pulled him into your arms, and his face immediately nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the moisture from the new tears dropping onto your skin. 

“I’m so proud of you, Harry.” You coo. “It couldn’t have gone any better.” 

He pulled back to look at you. “Thank you for being here.” 

“Nowhere I’d rather be.” You state plainly. He smiles and starts leaning in toward your lips. You jerk back quickly. “Baby, we’re still onstage.” 

“Don’t care,” he leans back in, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss. 

You pull away with a smile. “Ready?” 

He nodded silently, stepping out of your embrace and turning to the crowd one last time to blow them a final farewell kiss. He then took your hand and led you off the stage and into your new post-tour life. 

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 9 CAT vs. THE PURGE MARCH

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for CAT:

"You like jazz? Jazz is chaos within order. Got to love the whole band. Vibraphone, saxophone, trumpet, flute, piano, guitar, drums, bass… Go, rhythm section, go! The song sounds tender at times and aggressive at others as different instruments pop up at different times. Sometimes they follow Kazui’s voice (“follow the king of the masquerade”). Sometimes they get to be the focus. You have the chill piano one moment and the screaming guitar in the next.

You’ve got a lovely “jingle” (“Lie until it gets better…”) which occurs at the beginning, middle, and end. It fits the “newspaper ad” style of the video really well. Also at the very end, there’s one more line that gives the jingle an upward contour, giving a sense of finality. “Until you can meet the king of the masquerade.” You’re there now.

The two verses start off differently before they take on a similar melody. It feels like Kazui is talking to a different person in each verse.

The chorus is a beautiful façade the first time and a sinister truth the second time.

The opening for solos shows that this jazz song means business. I love how the saxophone and trumpet especially get in your face. And with the tacet on vocals, the walking bass really shines if you lend it your ear.

And the smoke break! Silence is golden. Glass click. Lighter. Huff.

As always, Kazui’s voice is super deep. He hits even lower notes this time around. He’s a fifth lower than the next lowest singers (Haruka and Shidou)."

---

-Great instrumental choice. Kazui and jazz is *chefs kiss*

-Symbolism. THE SYMBOLISM. I can’t type out all my thoughts but ifykyk

-The almost comic like style of the MV is really appealing.

-Lyrics!! There is so much to unpack but it’s really cool.

-Kazui eating the dove… fricken iconic.

---

FIRST OF ALL the vocals????? BEAUTIFUL. His va put his whole pussy into this song and you can tell!! The way he sings the chorus is so damn addicting I'm so in love with him. His voice is more or less stable throughout the entire thing until the final chorus but you can hear the emotion peaking out which fits perfectly with Kazui keeping everything hidden. The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper during "all the things I wanna do that I can't say outloud"??? The way his voice starts trembling during "this feeling it's yearning to be satisfied"???? The way his voice turns into a sort of whisper AND starts trembling during "hey, if I said I liked-liked you, what would you?"?????? HEAVENLY! You can really feel how afraid Kazui is under his disguise and my heart breaks a little everytime I listen. Not to mention how absolutely powerful his voice gets at the climax!!!!!! It's insane!!!!!!! It's genius!!!!!! It makes me wild makes me crazy makes me eat my walls!!!!!!!!!!

THE SMOKE BREAK?????? What other song has something as powerful as that huh???? This isn't just a song produced by the milgram machine using his memories, this is HIS song and he is OWNING IT! The music builds up so much and gets so intense right before it, I can literally feel myself get tense and starting holding my breath right before he takes the break and everything relaxs… it's not just a break for him, but a break for the viewer. The song is spiralling out of control just like his life and his lies and he has no choice but to put it to a quick stop before its too much to handle.

THE IMAGERY IS WILD!!!!! He's a magician!!! Little magic guy!!!! Using tricks and lies to amaze and captivate the people around him! Trying desperately to magic his own feelings into something else! But it's all fake! It's all tricks and no matter how hard he tries he can never actually change himself into what he wants! But he's trying to convince himself the same way he's convinced his audience!! And when you're watching a magic act, are you there for the magician themself or are you there to watch the show?? The people in his life only cared for him when he performed for them, but they didn't give a drop of love to who he was a person! ALSO the transformation of the wedding ring to a cigarette to the dove at the end??? Makes me wild every single time! Right infront of his wife, he showed her that their marriage was something unhealthy for him that was slowly killing him from the inside. AND THEN he uses it to harm himself???? And then he turns that cigarette into a dove- a representation of love and literally TEARS INTO IT. He tears his marriage apart with his mouth!!! AKA HIS WORDS. makes me wild. Also fun fact Kazui says he started smoking because when he was younger it was "just natural for everyone to smoke" and that lines up with his reasons for marriage perfectly.

Kazui looks really hot in it. You should vote for Cat because Kazui is insanely attractive. What other reason do you need huh? Hot gay middle aged man.

Propaganda for THE PURGE MARCH:

"Despite the shorter length, the Purge March has several distinct sections in its structure.

It starts with a rolloff, and then… they don’t follow it. Amane isn’t here to follow the beat.

There’s the spoken-word intro and the upbeat first verse listing the tenets. The prechorus (“dou shiyou mo nai…”) has an amen break. The most-sampled four-bar drum beat. Well, there’s half of it. Is it supposed to mean something? Can I get an amen?

The chorus is so, so cheerful… unless you’re actually listening to the lyrics (“I’ll crush your throat too”) or watching the video. And it’s super catchy. 

The second part of the verse dials things back. Now we’re in reality. This is how Amane breaks her tenets. All the while, those tenets are spoken into both ears over the singing. Get some good headphones. She sounds different in each ear.

The music picks up again with the amen break as Amane happily strolls back home, and then-

Oh.

The somber second chorus, with Amane’s lower singing voice and mournful spoken words, leads into the final chorus, with new lyrics and a more forceful tone. The once-meaningless chanting now has real words. “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please go ahead and die already.” You can hear Amane’s anger despite the cheerful melody. She harmonizes in the final phrase, as if to say “we’re in this together, me and my little color guard troop.” And finally, it’s just her. Speaking. "Oboetemasuka?" Accompanied by only a single drum.

She is both Amane Momose and not. She upholds the doctrines that she was raised with, but she can’t."

---

"Purge March is geniunaly one of my favorite pieces of fiction both in and out of the context of trauma. Its fantastically directed and composed. The batton twirling is spetacular and energetic, the set and character design of Amane conveys a lot about the world she’s in and the story she’s telling. Purge March contextulizes a lot of Magic in both expected and unexpected ways (insert the entire cat symbolism thesis here) Purge March casts Amane in the role of a scary child. The glowing eyes, the framing of Amane as Above the viewer, the brutality and catharsis of it all. It seems tailored made to make you Scared of her. It’s a continuation of the cycle of abuse that we the audience repeated in T1 when we gave her that verdict. A red flashing warning sign about the Inhumanity and Monsterous qualities of Amane Momose. But Amane as a monster is fufilling and freeing. Again, its deeply cathartic. I would write more if I wasnt so sleepy at the moment but its just some Fantastic work overall. Purge March is also just fantasitic vocally and also hids electricity sounds in the instrumental which I think is evil and awesome."

---

-Amane’s vocals and how they slowly get more and more off the deep end is both really sad and cool to watch.

-The symbolism of the marching band and the flags. Ifykyk

-The beginning where it sounds like a propaganda TV show… really shows just how far Amane’s thinking is rooted in her cult and how that’s shaped her perception.

-The LYRICS. They work so well but it’s also creepy AF considering it’s a child who’s singing it.

-“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me!”

-The overlapping part… gives me chills everytime.

-Building off the last point, the last “I’ll crush your throat too.” Ouch.

-“Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

-The song also does a great job of showing how much the guilty verdict messed with her.

[hogoflight]

Potentially consider writing that (from that one version) Athena, instead of cursing that one specific flute, cursed every single flute that would ever be made but the curse is just Apollo hates you for playing it now. Euterpe: (epic flute solo) Apollo: Wonderful! Truly, your skill is unparalleled for creating such a beautiful sound on such a DISTASTEFUL and UGLY instrument!

Euterpe: Apollo: Euterpe please why did you pick this weak tube you could have picked any other instrument to master and elevate to divine- Euterpe: dude can you chill literally once. come on man

[hiromusicarts-blog]

４月１２日は、恩師が企画し、演奏したコンツェルトを聴きに行ってきました。

音響があまり良くないと噂の愛知県芸術劇場コンサートホールでしたが、その中でも、比較的良いとされる場所を知っているので（２回の最前列）確保しました。日本最大級のパイプオルガンがあり、それで、ちと話題はあるものの、残響やエンハンスされる音域など、気になる部分も多々ありかと。まぁ、それは置いておいて、名フィルが、大コケしなくなった事が、この日最大の驚きでした。毎年「不安」しかなかったからなぁ。ジョイントするピアノ、フルート、バリトンなど、まずまずの出来で、これも安心できたかな。恩師のピアノ（モーツアルト）も、無事に。オケとのギクシャク感は各所で見られたものの、総じて良かった。

で、客演のミキエロン女史。ショパンのP-Conだったので、曲はあまり好きではなかったけれど、堂々とした演奏だった。そして、私と解釈が違うところも含めて、全体的に良かった。アンコールもショパンのピアノソロだったけれど、こちらでは、ペダリングの美しさに、まさに陶酔してしまったわ。低音（単音）を、ものすごく良いタイミングで、ペダルを。うねる事なく、まっすぐに伸びた音に感動！

On April 12th, I went to listen to a concert planned and performed by my teacher. The Aichi Prefectural Art Theater Concert Hall was rumored to have poor acoustics, but I knew of a place that was said to have relatively good acoustics, so I secured a spot (front row for both concerts). It has one of the largest pipe organs in Japan, and although it has been talked about a lot, there are also many things that are of concern, such as the reverberation and the enhanced range. Well, putting that aside, the biggest surprise of the day was that the Nagoya Philharmonic didn't make a big deal of it. Every year I felt nothing but anxiety. The joint piano, flute, baritone, etc. were all pretty good, so I guess I was relieved. My teacher's piano (Mozart) is also safe. There were some awkward moments with the orchestra, but overall it was good. And Ms. Michieron was a guest performer. It was Chopin's P-Con, so I didn't really like the piece, but it was a dignified performance. And it was good overall, including the parts where my interpretation was different. The encore was Chopin's piano solo, but here I was truly mesmerized by the beauty of the pedaling. Pedal a bass note (single note) at a very good timing. I was impressed by the straight sound without any undulations!

[villainii]

“Everyone was pointing upward at the sky, which was turning into a symphony of color. First, orange streaks appeared in the blue, like an oboe joining a flute, turning a solo into a duet. That harmony built into a crescendo of colors as yellow and then pink added their voices to the chorus. The sky darkened, throwing the array of colors into even sharper relief. The word sunset couldn't possibly contain the meaning of the beauty above them, and for the millionth time since they'd landed, Wells found that the words they'd been taught to describe Earth paled in comparison to the real thing.”

[w1w2]

Taste

Karina x Fem!Reader feat. Winter

Word Count: ca. 6k

Synopsis: Amid the shimmering lights of an exclusive party, Y/N finds herself drawn back into the orbit of a complicated past. Memories and emotions collide as she faces unspoken truths and unresolved tensions with two familiar figures. As the night deepens, Y/N is forced to reckon with what she’s lost, what remains, and the strength it takes to walk away.

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

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The venue exuded understated elegance, its high ceilings and minimalist decor a perfect canvas for the glamour of the night. Warm golden light spilled from modern chandeliers, catching the shimmer of sequins and polished champagne flutes as Korea’s entertainment elite mingled and posed for photographers.

Y/N stepped inside, the click of her heels muted by the soft carpeting. She wore a sleek, tailored dress that hugged her frame, a vision of quiet confidence. The air was alive with the hum of conversations, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses.

Her lips curled into a practiced smile as Irene, tonight’s host and star, approached.

“Y/N,” Irene said warmly, her shimmering gown catching the light. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Congratulation.” Y/N replied, her tone as smooth as the champagne she plucked from a passing tray.

They exchanged pleasantries—industry updates, compliments on Irene’s solo debut—but Y/N’s attention began to waver, her eyes scanning the crowd over Irene’s shoulder.

She’s here.

The realization hit before she even saw her. There was an electricity in the room, a pull she couldn’t ignore. And then, as though drawn by instinct, her gaze found her.

Yoo Jimin stood near the far wall, radiant as ever. Her long, dark hair framed her sharp features perfectly, her elegant black dress accentuating her tall frame. She was smiling, laughing softly at something Kim Minjeong had said.

Minjeong.

Y/N’s throat tightened as her eyes shifted to the smaller woman at Jimin’s side. Minjeong’s blonde hair fell in soft waves, her white dress glowing under the golden lights. She looked effortlessly beautiful, her laugh bright and unrestrained as she leaned closer to Jimin.

They looked perfect together. Too perfect.

"Oh, I leave quite an impression. Five feet, to be exact."

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line as the lyric echoed in her mind, bitter and sharp. She forced her attention back to Irene, nodding at something she’d said, though she hadn’t processed a word.

“Excuse me,” Y/N murmured, lifting her champagne glass in a half-toast before retreating toward the bar.

The bar offered a small reprieve from the crowded room, but it did little to quiet the storm brewing in Y/N’s chest. She tapped her nails against the glass, her thoughts racing.

She hated how easily Jimin still got under her skin. The way her presence filled a room, the way her laughter—so effortless—could drown out everything else.

And yet, here Y/N was, stuck in her orbit again.

Her eyes betrayed her resolve as they flicked back to the far side of the room. Jimin had leaned in closer to Minjeong now, her hand resting lightly on the small of Minjeong’s back. The touch was subtle, casual even, but it screamed intimacy to Y/N.

"You’re wonderin’ why half her clothes went missin’. My body’s where they’re at."

She clenched her jaw, the memory slicing through her composure. Did Minjeong know? Did she know about the stolen nights, the whispered promises, and the way Jimin’s voice used to tremble when she said Y/N’s name?

Y/N turned back to the bar, signaling for another drink.

Flashback

“Do you always have to be so dramatic?” Jimin teased, leaning against the kitchen counter as Y/N searched for a coffee filter.

Y/N spun around, brandishing the empty box. “You’re telling me you live here and don’t have coffee filters? What kind of monster are you?”

Jimin laughed, that low, melodic sound that always made Y/N’s heart skip. “A tea person. Obviously.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched. She stepped closer, the box still in hand. “This is unforgivable.”

“Is it?” Jimin asked, her voice softer now. She reached out, her fingers grazing Y/N’s wrist. “How are you going to punish me?”

Y/N tilted her head, her breath catching at the way Jimin’s eyes softened, her teasing replaced by something more vulnerable.

“I’ll think of something,” Y/N murmured, leaning in until their lips met.

End of the flashback

Y/N blinked back to the present, setting her glass down with more force than she intended. The memory still clung to her, its edges bittersweet and raw.

From across the room, as though sensing Y/N’s turmoil, Jimin’s eyes met hers.

The connection was immediate, electric. Jimin’s laughter faded, her smile dimming as her gaze lingered. For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to dull, leaving only the unspoken tension crackling between them.

Minjeong, oblivious, tugged lightly on Jimin’s arm, pulling her back into their conversation. Jimin tore her gaze away, her expression unreadable.

Y/N exhaled sharply, her chest tight. She turned back, signaling for another drink.

Y/N took the fresh glass of champagne from the bartender, her fingers wrapping around the stem as if it were her only anchor. She hated how easily Jimin still got under her skin. The way her presence filled a room, the way her laughter—so effortless—could drown out everything else.

And yet, here Y/N was stuck in her orbit again.

Her eyes betrayed her resolve as they flicked back to the far side of the room. Jimin had leaned in closer to Minjeong now, her hand resting lightly on the small of Minjeong’s back. The touch was subtle, casual even, but it screamed intimacy to Y/N.

Does she know?

The thought twisted in her mind, sharper than she wanted to admit. Did Minjeong know about her? About the stolen nights, the whispered promises, and the way Jimin had trembled in her arms? Did Minjeong know that, even as she smiled so sweetly now, Jimin still carried the ghost of their time together?

Y/N clenched her jaw, her polished exterior barely holding under the weight of it all.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

She turned, startled to find Irene standing beside her. Irene’s sharp eyes missed nothing, though her smile remained polite.

“Fine,” Y/N replied quickly, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Just needed a breather.”

Irene studied her for a moment, the corner of her mouth twitching. “A breather or a distraction?”

Y/N chuckled softly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re too observant for your own good.”

“It’s a gift,” Irene replied, her tone light but her gaze pointed. She glanced toward Jimin and Minjeong, her expression unreadable. “You know, some things have a way of lingering even when you think they shouldn’t.”

Y/N’s lips tightened around the rim of her glass, but she didn’t respond. Instead, her eyes flickered back toward Jimin, unbidden. The sight of her, standing so effortlessly close to Minjeong, stirred something sharp and restless in Y/N’s chest.

The room felt warmer, the noise of clinking glasses and muted laughter pressing in. Y/N took a steadying breath, her fingers tracing the edge of her flute.

Irene seemed to sense her unease. “Don’t let the ghosts win,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the crowd.

Y/N blinked, turning to look at her. “What makes you think they have?”

Irene smiled faintly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she offered a polite nod and slipped away, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

As Y/N let her gaze drift back across the room, her breath caught. Jimin’s eyes flickered toward her, the connection immediate and electric.

Jimin felt Y/N’s gaze like a static charge in the air. It prickled at her skin, pulling her attention no matter how hard she tried to focus on Minjeong.

“Jimin?”

Minjeong’s voice was gentle, her head tilted in that familiar way that always made Jimin feel safe.

“Hm?” Jimin blinked, realizing Minjeong had asked her a question.

“Are you okay?” Minjeong asked, a hint of worry creeping into her tone. “You seem... distracted.”

Jimin forced a smile, giving Minjeong’s hand a light squeeze. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”

Minjeong seemed to accept the answer, but her eyes lingered on Jimin’s for a moment too long. There was a quiet curiosity in her gaze, as if she sensed there was more to Jimin’s distraction than the weight of the event.

“Okay,” Minjeong said softly, her voice tinged with a gentle reassurance. She turned her attention back to the room.

Jimin exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly when Minjeong wasn’t looking. Her gaze wandered again—inevitably—to Y/N.

Y/N, leaning against the bar, looked unshaken on the surface. But Jimin recognized the tension in her posture, the way her fingers traced the edge of her glass as if holding herself in check.

For a brief second, Jimin allowed herself to linger, her chest tightening with the weight of everything unspoken.

Y/N was halfway through her second glass of champagne when her resolve finally cracked. The air around her felt too thick, the noise of the party too loud. But it wasn’t the room that suffocated her—it was the unanswered questions, the lingering tension that stretched between her and Jimin like a taut string.

Y/N had just set her glass down when she saw Jimin approach. Her movements were deliberate, her expression poised, but Y/N could see the cracks beneath the surface.

“Y/N,” Jimin said softly, the sound of her name almost lost in the noise around them.

“Jimin,” Y/N replied, her tone smooth but edged with something sharp.

Before the tension could unravel further, Minjeong appeared beside Jimin, her timing impeccable. Her expression was curious but polite as she took in Y/N, her smile warm and unassuming.

“Hi,” Minjeong said, offering a small nod.

Y/N’s chest tightened. She managed a faint smile. “Hi.”

The silence stretched, awkward and palpable. Minjeong glanced between them, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Minjeong,” Jimin said, her voice unusually tight, “would you mind grabbing us some water? I’ll be right here.”

Minjeong hesitated for the briefest moment but nodded. “Sure.” She touched Jimin’s arm lightly before walking away, her presence leaving a noticeable void.

Y/N didn’t wait for Jimin to speak. “She’s sweet,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

“She is,” Jimin replied, her voice quieter now.

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze piercing. “And yet, here we are.”

Jimin’s breath hitched, but she said nothing, her eyes darting to the glass in her hand.

“Funny,” Y/N continued, her voice low but cutting. “She doesn’t seem to notice the way you keep looking at me.”

Jimin opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The tension between them was a living thing now, thrumming like a heartbeat.

"I heard you’re back together, and if that’s true, you’ll just have to taste me when she’s kissing you."

Y/N took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Does she know, Jimin? Does she know that when you touch her, you’re thinking of me?”

Jimin flinched, the sharpness of the words slicing through her composure.

Before Jimin could respond, Minjeong returned, her bright smile cutting through the haze like sunlight after a storm.

“Here you go,” Minjeong said, handing Jimin a glass of water.

Y/N stepped back, her mask slipping back into place as easily as a curtain falling over a stage.

“I’ll see you around,” she said smoothly, her gaze flicking between them before she turned and walked away.

As Y/N disappeared into the crowd, Jimin’s grip tightened around the glass, her knuckles white against the delicate crystal. She drew in a slow breath, but it did little to steady the weight pressing down on her chest.

She turned back to Minjeong, who was mid-conversation with another guest, her soft laugh cutting through the noise of the room. For a moment, Jimin envied Minjeong’s lightness—the way she could immerse herself so fully in the moment without the shadow of someone else pulling her attention away.

Jimin’s gaze darted back to where Y/N had been moments before, but she was gone. The space she’d occupied felt like a void, lingering in the back of Jimin’s mind like a stubborn echo.

The sound of laughter from the far side of the room blended into a dull hum as Y/N leaned against the bar. Her polished exterior—so carefully constructed—was starting to falter, and she hated it. Every glimpse of Jimin and Minjeong together chipped away at the armor she had built around herself since the breakup.

The memories came unbidden, vivid and cruel, pulling her back to moments she thought she had locked away.

Flashback

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jimin had whispered, though the way her hand lingered on Y/N’s wrist told a different story.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. “Maybe not. But here I am.”

They were in Jimin’s hotel room, the city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything in shades of gold and shadow. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, the world outside nothing but a distant hum.

Jimin looked at Y/N like she was a question she didn’t know how to answer. There was hesitation in her eyes, but it was overpowered by something deeper, something hungry.

“You’re trouble,” Jimin murmured, her voice soft but unsteady.

Y/N tilted her head, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “You like trouble.”

Whatever restraint Jimin had been clinging to snapped in that moment. She pulled Y/N closer, her lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. Y/N’s hands found their way into Jimin’s hair, tugging gently, earning a soft gasp that sent a shiver down her spine.

For a while, it was just them—no consequences, no questions.

End of the flashback

Back at the bar, Y/N’s fingers curled around her champagne flute as the memory faded. She exhaled shakily, her chest tight.

"Every time you close your eyes… Just know I was already there."

The lyrics twisted in her mind, bitter and taunting. Y/N took a sip of champagne, willing the ache in her chest to dull.

Flashback

“What are you smiling about?” Y/N asked, her voice soft and teasing.

Jimin turned her head, her cheek resting against the pillow. Her dark hair was a mess, her face bare, and her expression unguarded in a way that made Y/N’s heart ache.

“Nothing,” Jimin said, though her smile grew.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, rolling onto her side to face her. “You’re terrible at lying.”

Jimin laughed, the sound low and melodic. “Okay, fine,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I was just thinking… this feels nice.”

“Nice?” Y/N repeated, pretending to be offended.

Jimin rolled her eyes but leaned closer, her hand finding Y/N’s beneath the sheets. “You know what I mean.”

Y/N’s teasing faded as she took in the sincerity in Jimin’s eyes. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in the quiet morning light, the world outside their little bubble forgotten.

End of the flashback

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she watched Jimin from across the room. She leaned in to whisper something to Minjeong, earning a soft laugh in return. The sight sent a fresh pang through Y/N’s chest, though she refused to let it show.

She used to smile like that for me.

The thought was bitter, yet undeniable. Y/N knew she had left her mark on Jimin, even if she’d been cast aside.

Flashback

“You’re really going back to her?” Y/N’s voice wavered despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

Jimin stood near the door, her arms crossed, her expression conflicted. “It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is,” Y/N said, taking a step closer. “You’re making it complicated.”

Jimin’s shoulders slumped, and she turned her gaze to the floor. “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. With you. With her.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to speak. “So, what? You’re choosing her? After everything we—”

“It’s not about choosing!” Jimin interrupted, her voice rising for the first time. “It’s about… it’s about history. And safety. And not ruining everything I’ve worked for.”

Y/N froze, her chest tightening. “Ruining everything?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin’s expression softened, regret flashing in her eyes. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” Y/N said, cutting her off. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You meant every word.”

Jimin reached for her, but Y/N stepped back, shaking her head. “Just go,” she said, her voice breaking. “If that’s what you want, then go.”

And Jimin did.

End of the flashback

The memory still felt fresh, even now. Y/N closed her eyes briefly, the noise of the party becoming a distant hum as her thoughts spiraled.

"You can have her if you like. I've been there, done that once or twice."

She hated how true the words felt, how much of herself she had given to Jimin, only to be left behind.

When she opened her eyes again, she caught Jimin looking at her from across the room. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded.

Y/N held her gaze, refusing to look away, even as her chest tightened with everything unsaid.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, Jimin turned back to Minjeong, her expression unreadable.

Y/N exhaled slowly, setting her empty glass on the bar. The night was far from over, but she was already exhausted. The air felt too thick, the noise of the party too loud, pressing against her like a weight she couldn’t shake.

She glanced over her shoulder, half-tempted to slip away unnoticed, but something held her in place. A pull she couldn’t resist.

Her gaze drifted across the room, searching for the source of her unrest.

The crowd ebbed and flowed like a tide, vibrant and alive, but Y/N stood still, her gaze fixed on Jimin and Minjeong across the room. They looked effortless together, a picture of ease and harmony that made Y/N’s chest ache.

Minjeong’s laugh was bright and unrestrained, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. She had an openness about her, a warmth that drew people in without trying. Y/N watched as Jimin leaned in closer, her tall frame almost curling protectively around Minjeong’s smaller one. The movement was subtle, instinctive, and painfully familiar.

She learned that from me.

The thought hit Y/N before she could stop it, sharp and unrelenting.

She couldn’t unsee the parallels. The way Jimin tilted her head just so, nodding along as Minjeong spoke, her lips curling into that soft, private smile. It was the same smile Jimin had once saved for Y/N, during late-night conversations and whispered secrets.

Y/N’s grip tightened on her glass as another laugh rang out. Jimin was teasing Minjeong now, something clever and understated that had Minjeong giggling and swatting at her arm playfully. The sound of Jimin’s laugh—low and melodic—sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"She’s funny now, all her jokes hit different. Guess who she learned that from?"

The thought was bitter, yet undeniable. Y/N had taught Jimin how to wield humor like a weapon—lighthearted but disarming, a way to draw someone closer without them even realizing it.

Jimin glanced up, her gaze flickering to Y/N for the briefest of moments. Her expression remained unreadable, her polished composure firmly in place.

But Y/N saw through it. She saw the crack beneath the surface, the hesitation that lingered in Jimin’s movements every time their eyes met.

“Jimin,” Minjeong said, her voice cutting through the moment. She tugged gently on Jimin’s hand, smiling up at her.

Jimin blinked, her attention snapping back to Minjeong. Her lips curved into a smile. Warm, reassuring, but not quite reaching her eyes. “What is it?”

Minjeong tilted her head toward the dessert table. “They’ve got those little tarts you love. Want to grab some before they’re gone?”

Jimin hesitated, her gaze darting back toward Y/N’s direction, but she caught herself quickly. “Yeah,” she said, squeezing Minjeong’s hand lightly. “Let’s go.”

The two moved together, weaving through the crowd, but Y/N’s eyes followed them like a magnet.

Y/N set her glass down on the bar, her fingers tracing the rim absently. She hated how much power Jimin still held over her, even from across a crowded room. But there was something else there, something she couldn’t ignore.

Pride.

Despite everything—despite the heartbreak and the bitterness—Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small, stubborn sense of pride in the way she had shaped Jimin. Their time together had been brief but intense, and it had left an imprint on Jimin that couldn’t be erased.

The way Jimin leaned into Minjeong now, her touches gentle but deliberate, mirrored the intimacy they’d once shared. It was a habit Y/N had teased her about endlessly, back when they’d stolen moments away from the rest of the world.

From the dessert table, Jimin glanced over her shoulder, her eyes seeking out Y/N once again. Minjeong didn’t seem to notice, too busy chatting with the person next to her, but Jimin’s focus wavered.

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but the words died in her throat. The weight of Y/N’s gaze, the history between them, lingered like a ghost in the air.

Minjeong turned back to Jimin, holding up a tart with a playful grin. “Got one for you before I ate them all.”

Jimin laughed softly, shaking her head. “Thanks,” she said, her voice gentle.

But as Minjeong handed her the dessert, Jimin’s hand trembled slightly, the crack in her facade growing just a little wider.

Minjeong, ever perceptive, tilted her head curiously but said nothing, her focus shifting to a nearby conversation. Jimin’s eyes darted back toward Y/N, the weight of their shared history tugging at her chest.

Across the room, Y/N noticed the hesitation. The tremor. The way Jimin’s gaze flickered toward her as if she couldn’t help herself.

Y/N exhaled slowly, letting the tension settle in her chest. She didn’t need to fight for Jimin’s attention; she already had it. Every glance, every hesitation, every joke Jimin told was proof of the mark Y/N had left.

But it wasn’t enough—not anymore.

Her gaze shifted away, back to her own reflection in the bar’s mirror. The woman staring back at her looked composed, confident. But underneath, she was tired. Tired of being haunted by someone who had chosen stability over passion.

"You’ll just have to taste me when she’s kissing you."

The lyric echoed in her mind, bitter and unyielding. Y/N straightened her posture, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.

Let Jimin remember her. Let her feel the weight of Y/N’s absence every time she touched Minjeong. Y/N wasn’t going to fight for someone who didn’t choose her—not anymore.

The thought gave her a fleeting sense of closure, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the restlessness thrumming in her chest. The noise of the party felt louder now, the air heavier.

She needed to get out, to find some space where she could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in.

Y/N turned away from the bar and slipped through the crowd, weaving past clusters of chatter and bursts of laughter until she found a side door leading to the balcony.

The balcony was quiet, the distant hum of the city below muffled by the soundproof glass doors behind her. A faint breeze teased at the edges of Y/N’s dress, the chill of the night air biting against her skin. She leaned against the railing, her champagne flute dangling loosely from her fingers, the golden liquid untouched.

The room inside had become too much—the laughter, the stolen glances, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on her chest. Out here, under the glow of the moon and the soft glitter of city lights, she could breathe.

But not for long.

The sound of the door sliding open made her stiffen. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Y/N.” Jimin’s voice was soft, hesitant, but it carried through the still night air like a whisper in a cathedral.

Y/N didn’t look at her. “I was wondering when you’d come,” she said, her voice steady but devoid of warmth.

Jimin stepped closer, her heels clicking against the stone floor. “I just... needed to talk to you.”

That made Y/N laugh, low and humorless. She turned, leaning her hip against the railing as she finally met Jimin’s gaze. “Talk?” she repeated. “Now you want to talk?”

Jimin’s lips parted, but no words came. For the first time tonight, her polished composure wavered, cracks appearing in the armor she’d so carefully built.

“I saw the way you were looking at me,” Y/N continued, her tone sharper now. “Or maybe you were just trying to see through me. Is that it, Jimin? Hoping I’d disappear if you ignored me long enough?”

Jimin flinched, her hand tightening on the clutch she’d brought with her. “That’s not fair,” she murmured.

“Fair?” Y/N took a step forward, her voice dropping into something softer, more dangerous. “You think this is fair? Watching you play house with her while you look at me like—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Forget it.”

Jimin took a shaky breath, her voice quieter now. “I didn’t plan this, Y/N. I didn’t plan on you being here tonight.”

“And yet, here we are,” Y/N said, a bitter edge to her words. She swirled the champagne in her glass absently before setting it on the railing. “So, what do you want? To explain? To apologize? Or are you just here to make yourself feel better?”

“That’s not why—” Jimin started, but Y/N cut her off.

“Spare me,” Y/N said, her voice laced with exhaustion. She looked at Jimin, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “You chose her. Again. And maybe that’s what hurts the most—not that you left, but that you always seem to come back just to remind me of it.”

Jimin’s carefully constructed walls began to crack, her breathing uneven. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said, her voice trembling.

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head. “Congratulations. You failed.”

For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of traffic below.

“I still think about you,” Jimin admitted quietly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. Her gaze dropped to the ground, as if saying it out loud was too much to bear. “I see you everywhere—in my head, in my jokes, in the way I…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, wry smile. “You’ll just have to taste me when she’s kissing you.”

Jimin’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and glassy. She looked like she wanted to respond, to fight back, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Look, Jimin,” Y/N said, her voice softening slightly, the sharp edges of her anger dulled by exhaustion. “I don’t want to be your regret. But I know I’ll always be your ghost.”

Jimin flinched at the word, her composure crumbling further. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, but no words came. Instead, her hand lifted halfway, fingers trembling like they were caught between reaching for Y/N and letting go entirely.

“Don’t,” Y/N said quietly, her tone not harsh but resolute. The single word carried a finality that made Jimin’s hand falter. It dropped back to her side, and she took a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her own indecision.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered, barely audible over the soft hum of the city behind them.

Y/N’s gaze softened, but her expression remained unreadable. “Yeah,” she said after a long pause, her voice steady but distant. “Me too.”

The silence that followed was deafening. They stood there, inches apart but separated by a chasm neither of them could cross. The memories between them felt alive, pressing down on the air, filling the space with everything they couldn’t say.

Jimin looked at Y/N one last time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I never meant to hurt you,” she said, her voice breaking.

Y/N’s lips quirked into the faintest, bittersweet smile. “I know,” she replied, her words softer now. “But you did.”

For a moment, Jimin hesitated, as if she might stay, as if she might say something more. But the moment passed, and with visible reluctance, she turned and took a step back.

Her hand hovered on the glass door, her reflection ghosting over the city lights beyond. She paused, casting one last glance over her shoulder, her face shadowed with regret.

Y/N met her gaze evenly, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. There was no anger left in her expression, just a quiet resolve that made Jimin’s chest ache.

Jimin finally slid the door open and stepped back inside, leaving Y/N alone on the balcony.

Y/N didn’t move, even after the door slid shut behind Jimin, leaving her alone on the balcony once more. Her chest felt hollow, her breath shallow as she leaned back against the railing. The chill of the metal seeped through her dress, grounding her even as her emotions churned.

She tilted her head back, letting her gaze drift to the stars scattered across the vast, inky sky. They seemed impossibly far away, distant and untouchable. For a moment, she envied them—their silence, their constancy.

The tears came quietly, slipping down her cheeks unchecked. She didn’t fight them. It wasn’t the kind of grief that demanded sobs or outbursts; it was quieter, more resigned. It wasn’t about what could have been anymore. It was about what never truly was.

There was no collapse, no shattering. Just a slow, aching acceptance of something she had always known deep down: Jimin had been a ghost in her life long before tonight. A flicker of light she had tried to hold onto, even as it slipped through her fingers.

Y/N wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. It wasn’t a smile born of joy, but of understanding—of the weight finally lifting, even if it left a scar behind.

The city stretched out before her, endless and alive. The buzz of traffic below, the distant glow of streetlights, the muffled hum of voices inside the venue—they were reminders that life continued, indifferent and unstoppable.

She was still here.

She straightened, pulling her shoulders back, the breeze teasing her hair as she turned to glance at the glass door. A part of her wondered if Jimin would come back, but the thought didn’t linger. Y/N no longer needed her to.

The party was beginning to slow, its earlier energy now replaced by a quieter, more reflective buzz. Conversations grew softer, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and bursts of laughter that seemed to echo in the half-empty room.

The golden glow of the chandeliers felt warmer now, casting long shadows across the thinning crowd. The music had shifted too, slower and subdued, as if the night itself was winding down alongside the guests.

Y/N stood near the edge of the room, a fresh glass of champagne cradled in her hand. She hadn’t taken a sip yet, the glass more of a prop than a comfort. Her gaze wandered over the room, though her focus was elsewhere, her thoughts still tethered to the balcony.

Ghost.

The word lingered in her mind, heavy but strangely freeing. She had spent so much time fighting to hold onto pieces of what she and Jimin had shared, clinging to memories as if they could somehow make her whole again. But out on that balcony, as Jimin had walked away, Y/N had finally felt something shift.

It wasn’t closure—not entirely. Closure suggested an ending, clean and final. What she felt was more like an exhale, a slow loosening of the grip she had held on something she no longer needed.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The familiar voice drew her back to the present, and Y/N turned to find Irene standing beside her. The singer’s earlier, crowd-working smile had softened into something quieter, more personal.

“Not worth that much,” Y/N replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Irene chuckled, raising her own glass to her lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You’ve had that look all night.”

“What look?”

Irene tilted her head, studying her. “The one that says you’re carrying something too heavy to set down, even though you want to.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, letting out a quiet laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“To me, maybe,” Irene admitted, her tone gentle. She set her glass down and leaned in slightly. “You don’t have to tell me, but... if it helps, you’re not alone. Everyone’s haunted by something.”

The words hung in the air, simple but resonant, their weight settling over Y/N like a warm blanket. She let the silence stretch between them, her gaze shifting back toward the far side of the room.

There they were—Jimin and Minjeong.

Minjeong was speaking animatedly, her hands gesturing as she laughed at something Jimin had said. Jimin was smiling too, that soft, private smile Y/N had once known so intimately. They looked happy, a picture of comfort and stability that could have made Y/N ache.

But as she watched, Y/N caught something else. Jimin’s fingers tapped lightly against her glass, a nervous habit Y/N recognized all too well. There was a faint crease between her brows when Minjeong wasn’t looking, a flicker of something unspoken in her expression.

She’s carrying it too, Y/N thought.

The realization didn’t bring comfort exactly, but it brought something close to peace. They had both been changed, scarred in their own ways, but Y/N was no longer tethered to that pain.

She exhaled, the breath steady and deliberate, her grip on her glass loosening as she set it down. The weight wasn’t gone entirely, but it was lighter now, easier to bear.

“I think it’s time for me to go,” she said, turning back to Irene.

Irene nodded, her expression soft with understanding. “Sometimes leaving is the bravest thing you can do.”

Y/N smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curving upward with a quiet gratitude. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it carried weight—a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Irene’s words. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, the movement simple yet deliberate, as if shedding the last remnants of hesitation.

The walk toward the exit felt longer than it should have, every step echoing with memories she was letting go. The golden glow of the chandeliers flickered over her, each footfall a quiet rebellion against the weight in her chest. Conversations buzzed faintly around her, their cadence softer now, as if the party itself was winding down.

As she reached the door, her hand brushed against the cool metal of the handle. Something made her glance back—a pull she couldn’t entirely resist.

Across the room, Jimin and Minjeong remained in their own world. Minjeong’s laugh floated through the air, light and uninhibited, and Jimin’s lips quirked into a smile that once had been reserved for Y/N. The pang in Y/N’s chest flared briefly, a sharp reminder of what was and what would never be again. But there was a difference now—an unexpected softness to the ache, like a bruise fading under time’s patient touch.

She turned back to the door, her fingers tightening briefly around the handle before she pushed it open. The night greeted her with a crisp embrace, the chill biting against her skin yet somehow refreshing. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of the venue, a reminder that outside those walls, life stretched on in endless, unpredictable patterns.

The city spread out before her, alive with a thousand stories, none of which she was beholden to. Y/N paused at the edge of the sidewalk, her breath visible in the night air. Tilting her head back, she let the city lights blur into the stars above, her heart settling into a calm rhythm she hadn’t felt in months.

“If you want forever, and I bet you do. Just know you'll taste me too”

“She’ll taste me every time.” The words slipped out softly, carried away by the breeze. They weren’t bitter or triumphant—just an acknowledgment of the truth she had lived.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of those words settle. They weren’t about holding on anymore. They were about release—a final reminder to herself that she had left her mark and didn’t need to keep proving it.

When she opened her eyes again, the world seemed sharper, more vibrant. The streetlights flickered against the pavement, and the distant hum of traffic reminded her of everything waiting beyond this moment.

With a steady breath, Y/N straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she began walking, each step sure and unwavering. The night stretched ahead, vast and full of potential, and for the first time in a long time, she felt ready to embrace it.

She didn’t need to look back.

She was done looking back.

The memories, the pain, and the lingering echoes of Jimin’s presence—they would always be a part of her, but they no longer defined her. Y/N was more than what she had lost. She was the sum of every moment she had survived, every choice she had made to stand back up.

As the cool night air wrapped around her, Y/N allowed herself a small, private smile. This wasn’t the end of her story—it was a new beginning.

She was ready to reclaim herself.

[zot3-flopped]

There's a piece on the Daily Mail that gives a very interesting behind-the-scenes of Liam's life (they also talk about a big childhood trauma but "whose full details the Mail has chosen not to publish"). It's behind a paywall but I've discovered that many times the reading mode in Firefox and Safari gets through anyway, so here it is:

---

Liam Payne's serious childhood trauma and why having a baby so young with Cheryl couldn't bring the stability that may have saved him: KATIE HIND

It was the autumn of 2011, and I had been summoned to Sony Music’s west London HQ to meet Britain’s hottest new boy band.

A few months earlier, five hopeful teenagers had auditioned for ITV’s X Factor talent show – and the music impresario Simon Cowell had drawn them together to form One Direction.

The fledgling stars had already attracted a global fanbase in the millions: a juggernaut that was drawing comparisons to 1960s Beatlemania, even though they had yet to release a song.

Now that was about to change. The band’s debut single, What Makes You Beautiful, was launching the following week – and I was there to interview the boys behind it.

Although they had seemed like sweet young things when we had briefly met at the Fountain Studios in Wembley, north-west London, during their X Factor live shows the previous year, I had expected these precocious adolescents to now be full of self-importance at their growing fame.

How wrong I was.

I arrived to find five handsome young men politely waiting to greet me, but one of them stood out thanks to his cute curly hair and his charming, talkative manner.

No, not Harry Styles – the only ex-1D member who has gone on to forge a successful, long-term solo career – but Liam Payne. Dressed down in a navy hoodie and jeans, Liam wrapped me in a warm hug and excitedly introduced me to his bandmates – Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan and Zayn Malik – in his strong Wolverhampton accent.

Looking younger than his 18 years, Liam told me how badly he was missing his beloved mum Karen’s cooking – so much so that he had resorted to eating chicken dippers warmed up in the microwave.

Living as he was out of suitcases in hotels, he asked me for ironing tips as he had yet to learn how to use one – and said he still spent much of his free time playing Nintendo.

He admitted that he had practised putting his hands behind his back and trying to sing like his hero Liam Gallagher, the snarling Oasis frontman. ‘I probably looked a bit stupid though,’ he said.

He also spoke lovingly about West Bromwich Albion, the football team he had supported since he was a young boy – though he regretted that he no longer had time to cheer them on in person.

As for girls, Liam told me he preferred shy and quiet ones, although he revealed he’d fallen in love with X Factor’s 2006 winner Leona Lewis, while he found singer Tulisa Contostavlos ‘really, really hot’.

Overall, he struck me as an innocent abroad – a child, really – who seemed too vulnerable a soul to last long in the cut-throat music world.

As the years passed, I met Liam many times at industry events and in chance encounters – and I never shook that worrying sense that he was, in some ways, a lost little boy.

I could never have known, of course, that just 13 years after our first interview, Liam would perish in the most terrible circumstances – following a long spell of torment, scandal and drink and drug abuse.

His descent into addiction had been playing out, in public and in private, for years – worsened by his fragile emotional state.

Many had tried to help him quit the substances that were destroying his life, but to no avail: following his death in Buenos Aires’s five-star CasaSur hotel on Wednesday evening, what appeared to be cocaine and heroin paraphernalia were found in his wrecked suite, with its smashed TV and half-drunk flutes of champagne.

It was a squalid end for one of the most famous young men in the world, so adored by ‘Directioners’ that he insisted he couldn’t leave his hotel without a large security detail (although it’s worth pointing out that other former bandmates, including the global megastar Styles, often travel without huge entourages).

So where did it all go wrong for him – and how did that smiling boy I met all those years ago, rough around the edges as he was, come to such a terrible end?

There is no doubt that he struggled, even more than his bandmates, with that explosive early fame and notoriety.

In a candid moment at 2014’s Brit Awards, Liam told me how difficult he found it to be unable to blend into a crowd. The band’s relentless schedule had taken its toll on him, as had the long months away from home.

He often wished, one of his friends later told me, that he had gone to university like many of his schoolmates.

Of course, Liam came to enjoy a lifestyle unimaginable to his old contemporaries at St Peter’s Collegiate, his Church of England secondary school in Wolverhampton.

Despite his insatiable appetite for drugs, his large property portfolio, his endless jaunts on private jets, taste for high fashion and luxury hotel stays, his bank balance was still thought to be in the millions when he died.

For all his fears that he had peaked so young, he still had decades ahead of him – and ample time to grow into the contented father to Bear, his son with Girls Aloud star Cheryl Tweedy, his friends and family longed for him to become.

But I can reveal that behind that smiling, cherubic face, Liam had suffered serious trauma in his childhood: a shadow from which he felt he could never escape and whose full details the Mail has chosen not to publish.

One friend told me: ‘Before he even began his showbiz career, he had demons from his formative years. He struggled with that and never quite got over it. He was in a band with four other guys, he could get any girl he wanted and he was earning millions – but he struggled to enjoy any of it.’

I can vouch for that: of all the 1D members, Liam seemed by far the most uncomfortable with his fame and fortune.

I would see him most years at the Brits, where at first he would dash over to say hello, often reminding me that he had enjoyed me asking him ‘fun questions’ at our first interview.

Yet as time went on, his chaotic living began to catch up with him, and his manner became ever more unpredictable.

In February 2013, at a Brit Awards afterparty organised by his music label at the upmarket Arts Club in Mayfair, I saw him drunkenly dancing with his bandmates – by far the most bleary-eyed of them.

That December, I bumped into him in the Kurt Geiger shoe shop in Canary Wharf, east London, where he was buying his then girlfriend Sophia Smith – a former school sweetheart – a pair of boots for Christmas.

Gone was his carefree demeanour of just two years earlier, he now seemed strikingly shy. He told me he had bought a penthouse flat in the Docklands, and at my insistence, he posed for a picture with me before dashing off.

During 2013’s Take Me Home tour, the band performed an average of a concert every two days, completing 124 dates between February and November. That, I’m told, put unbearable pressure on Liam, who would often say that he ‘just wanted to be normal’.

Of course, the fame came with perks – women chief among them. Liam’s best-known romance was with Cheryl, who was ten years his senior, which had begun in 2016 following her split from her French husband Jean-Bernard Fernandez-Versini.

They quickly became the most talked-about couple in showbiz –and only six months after they were confirmed to be an item, Cheryl revealed she was expecting their baby.

For Liam, however, the pregnancy was a huge shock: he was, he allegedly told friends, not ready to become a dad.

With 1D having gone on ‘permanent hiatus’ in 2016, he was trying to launch his solo career, and becoming a father – especially to a woman a decade older than him –was not part of his plans.

He told friends that he felt like Cheryl, who was 33 when Bear was born, had used him so she could have a baby.

When Bear, now seven, was born in 2017, Cheryl grew increasingly fed up that she was stuck at home with the baby while Liam was away jet-setting.

‘Liam was flying around the world promoting his music,’ said a friend. ‘He was in the zone Cheryl had been in ten years before with Girls Aloud. It led to some furious rows.

‘He began using private jets so he could get home quicker, but it wasn’t enough. Cheryl wanted a proper family unit and Liam just could not give it to her. Things got really bad and tempestuous. Liam was a young lad in his early 20s and he just wasn’t ready for it all.’

Inevitably, they split up – giving Liam even more time to ‘go off the rails’, as one former associate of the star describes it.

Even when they were co-parenting, Cheryl desperately hoped that Liam and Bear would develop a strong father-son bond, despite Liam’s addiction issues.

‘Cheryl knew what a state he was in,’ says a source. ‘She wished she could make it better.’

And she wasn’t alone in that wish: as Liam turned from being a cheerful teenager into a tormented, angry young man, many of those closest to him tried unsuccessfully to rescue him.

He was dropped by more than one of his managers due to his erratic behaviour and his failure to turn up to work engagements.

In September 2017, Cheryl, Liam and Bear went on a luxury holiday to Majorca: a birthday treat for Liam. But he injured himself while drunk.

As the years went on, he only got worse.

In 2022, a gurning Liam appeared to be high on drugs at a post-Oscars party in Hollywood. In footage that went viral for all the wrong reasons, he replaced his Wolverhampton twang with a bizarre Los Angeles accent.

One friend of Liam’s called me in horror to share their fears that he ‘really wasn’t OK’. Last year, Liam moved to a sprawling mansion near the Buckinghamshire town of Chalfont St Giles to be further away from the temptations of London and closer to Bear, who lived nearby with Cheryl.

However, neighbours tell me that he brought his problems with him. They would often spot him coming home in the early hours in chauffeur-driven cars, often with women in tow.

While I’m told he tried to see Bear regularly, his unpredictable lifestyle frequently made this impossible. Instead, Cheryl was largely left to bring up the little boy alone with the help of her mother Joan.

Liam’s new home was also close to a woman who some describe as his fairy godmother – the Olympic heptathlon gold medallist Denise Lewis.

Her husband Steve Finan worked with Liam for several years and the couple were at his side through some of his most difficult times – including his fall-out with Cheryl.

He would often stay at their home as they battled to keep him sober.

‘Liam adored Denise,’ says a source. ‘She mothered him and really tried to support him.’

Yet in recent months, his life was clearly spiralling out of control. His on-off girlfriend, Maya Henry, 23, had recently hired lawyers to send a ‘cease and desist’ letter to the star, accusing him of repeatedly contacting her and her loved ones.

Liam’s friends insisted he was angry and upset at her, adding that her behaviour was due to her wanting to publicise her new book.

And only last week, I’m told Liam had a huge row with his manager over his forthcoming album, whose release – to Liam’s fury – had been delayed because it was deemed ‘too poppy’.

A source said: ‘There was a blazing row and the album was put back again. The single from it had flopped and there were concerns. Liam desperately wanted that album to come out: despite everything, he thought of himself as a musician.’

To make matters even worse, just a few days ago Liam’s record label dropped him.

Another source said: ‘People begged him to get help and suggested that he went to Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings, but he wouldn’t take them up on it.’

His most recent girlfriend was Texan model Katie Cassidy, whom he thought might have been The One. She too had tried to help him, but left Argentina to return to the US two days before he died.

‘Lots of people cared for Liam,’ said a source. ‘He had so much love around him.’

Yet all the love in the world was not enough to rescue this desperately unhappy young man, who for all his fame and fortune could never escape the demons that haunted him from his lost, tormented youth.

www dailymail co uk/tvshowbiz/article-13972405/Liam-Paynes-childhood-trauma-having-baby-young-Cheryl-bring-stability-saved-KATIE-HIND html

Thank you for this. Plenty of interesting insights here.

[viperwhispered]

Behold, my creations

So back in *checks timestamp* July I got thinking of a metal band made of the overblots.

And yesterday I was possessed by the urge to play around on Gimp and slap some instruments on them with my very protesh photo manip skills. Days off work well spent I guess?

So, our vocalists:

Vil on the main vocals, nothing too dramatic there. Jamil also on vocals. Couldn't quite decide if Jamil would be more contrast vocals (harsh vocals or more spoken, kinda beauty and the beast style thing) or more complementary. Could even be both.

Also Jamil gets a flute because snake charmer. He can busy himself bringing some folky flair when it's not his time to sing.

Mostly based this on their roles on the VDC.

Leona and Riddle bring up the guitar section. Perhaps more specifically Leona on lead guitar and Riddle on rhythm guitar.

Ngl, was real happy finding that guitar asset for Riddle, and repurposed his card trails for the strap. (Leona's strap, meanwhile, I haphazardly copied from the fabric hanging from his waist.)

For the mean option, I suppose one could give Leona some maracas or other rattles so he gets to be shaking sand around. (Friend also suggested a bell tied to his tail so he can participate while napping.)

Malleus on bass and Idia on synths/keys. This is just purely based on vibes on my part. Like I said in the original post too, there's just something about Malleus thudding along with a powerful bass that makes sense to me - though I'm sure one could make a case for fancy shmancy guitar solos too.

And I feel like Idia requires no explanation here.

And then finally Azul, putting all his limbs to use behind the drum kit. Kinda wish I would've hunted for something a bit more dramatic but hey it's for funsies and it works.

Maybe at some point I'll put them all on a stage with like pyros or everything, but for now, I'm gonna settle for slapping them here:

(and yes, Azul and Idia are on platforms because I had to squeeze them in somehow, while Malleus is floating because he can.)

[crying-screaming-throwingup]

my thoughts on prelude to ecstasy:

the intro orchestral movement?? it felt like something out of a roman period piece. it was so perfect and just *chefs kiss* and the ending crescendo was so gorgeous

burn alive felt so dramatic like watching the lead up to a murder “let me make my grief a commodity” and “there is candle wax melting in my veins” are just such poetic lyrics. the guitar riff during the verse feels like a warning- eerie and stark. “i am not the girl i set out to be” is such a raw line it makes me feral omfg. abigail morris’ final line felt like an open wound

i’ve heard caesar on a tv screen before but in the context of the album as a whole changes it. it’s almost like a sequel of sorts, showing what she “set out to be”. musically, the contrast between the verse and chorus itches a scratch on my brain. “champion of my fate” feels so spiteful idk why

the feminine urge gives lana vibes maybe cause of the darker imagery and tone. it feels like a performer cracking their mask. “i am a dark red liver stretched out on the rocks” is sUCH A GOOD LYRIC. “to nurture to wounds my mother had” killed me my god

again i’ve heard on your side before but the album changes the feelings within it. if the feminine urge was the cracking of the mask then this song is the removal of it. it is vulnerable and raw and open about love and shame. the vocals feel like they’re pleading but already resigned- it’s heartbreaking

the flute opening for beautiful boy sounds so wistful. this so is so queer omg. “what good are red lips when faced with something dark” the lone piano chords in the chorus plus the harmonies are so ethereal they make me feel like i’m at my funeral service.

gjuha makes me feel like i’m intruding on something private, a ritual between a girl and a god. THE TRANSITION OMFG

the placement of gjuha before sinner MAKES ME FEEL THINGS OMG. like the contrast of imagery, between sin and holiness. “TURN TO THE ALTAR OF LUST” this song made me feral when i first heard it and it makes me feral now like omg. the religious imagery in this entire album is so interesting

my lady of mercy’s bass line is so groovy and perfect and amazing. and the percussive claps are so amazing. again, this so is so queer™️. the heavier sound in the chorus is so amazing and the bridge makes me feel like i’m fighting my final stand and praying to win

i love the stripped back piano of portrait of a dead girl compared with my lady of mercy. even further in the track, it remains kinda mellow and softer but no less direct. “the dignity of letting me go” when it finally gets more upbeat it the chorus it rly doesn’t disappoint. and the strings omg. also song title could be a nod to the album cover or vice versa??

the beginning of nothing matters feels like a prayer and the harp is so bloody good. “a sailor and a nightingale dancing in convertibles” the guitar riffs in the second verse are so funky i love it and the solo just makes me want to dance.

mirror feels like the end of the battle- the drums and solemn voice. it’s the end of the performance, the final death. “pretty glass and empty heart” death of the performer is the death of the album. but the final fifty seconds feels like a rebirth in a way, growth and renewal.

i don’t know if u could tell but i fricking loved this album like it’s everything i’ve ever wanted in terms of vibes and blend of dramatics and sincereness. i’m just praying that i get tickets omg

[silver-and-stars]

Fangs of Fortune ep.26

Chongwu fckers : "let's make sure the crowd hates YC and want him dead cause we don't want him to die so he can kill ZYZ" ???? Wen Xiao, girl, blow that flute and get us rid of those 2 fckers.

WHAT?! Why did they cut the hug ? Let me see them hug ! They deserve that ! WE deserve that !!

Look at them talking in YC bedroom, under the moon, in front of a bed, having a heart to heart, closer than ever. (Now kiss) For the first time ZYZ is understood (I'm not crying) and YC tells him he would regret killing him. IT'S LOVE !

Yeah girl, I get it, I too get so distracted by how beautiful ZYZ is. I don't get how she has smooch that very handsome and very devoted man yet.

100% had forgotten about the Wilderness, but good for it. OMG THE MOM IS BACK ! Go get your son lady ! Divine tree VS evil tree. Pretty sure that would shake Bai Jiu enough to break open that closest. OMG imagine if he gets out of that closet thanks to the mom, like when she was finding him during their games of hide-and-seek !

LiLun for once leave them alone. (the kid really sells it though. good actor !) And stop hitting Ying Lei !

Wenxio clinging to Pei Sijing, go girls. So Yichen was like "How about I die so that ZYZ get stay alive (even if he dooms the world)?" "don't die please" URG MY KOKORO !!! "Promise me you won't die." "I can't because my life is in your hands" (NOW KISS)

"Call me aunt and you shut up" lol Yeah, don't let them tell you what to do.

The talking stone is a spine… a dragon spine ? YingLong's ? Bingyi's ? Is it Bingyi that is lonely af ? Can't they make a new sword from the spine if it's Yinglong's ?

Don't do it Yichen ! You are too pretty to suffer and too pretty to die ! What about the one word spell? ! The baize magic ? CAN'T THEY STOP THAT ?! Thank you Pei Sijing for trying.

Yep, that red light mixing with Bingyi's blue magic. ZYZ isn't leaving is man behind.

Ooooh it did work and didn't at all at the same time. Well at least they are frozen together ! Time for a flashback to their shared past-life then ? Was Wenxiao the Nuwa goddess (or Bingyi's wife since he did manage to overcome his grief and have descendants) ? What is written in the box ? (please don't tell me he dies at the end and she or she and ZYZ read it. I'm ready for ZYZ diying, kinda, no I'm not, but I'm 100% not for YC) They better unfreeze, there is still much to do. Wenxiao, girl it's time to play a sick solo on that flute !

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Super Star Spectacle (Revue Starlight)

It's beautiful, it's dazzling, it's painful, it's frustrating/To take, to be taken from, it's heartrending/Being captivated, growing closer, being attracted, parting/In you, I end up losing myself

"I'm going to try to not say anything about the source material itself and start by saying this song has everything. It has the somber ballad at the start! It has the audio nightmare (loving) for dramatic effect! It has the more upbeat, catchy melody! It has the flute solo! It has the moment where it finally turns somber again, but in a more bittersweet way! Finally, it has the grand closing audio, sending off the song, the scene and the series as a whole! I will admit right now, between the scene it was in and the song itself, I began weeping the first time I heard that ending because of what it represented, and I won't deny that I sometimes cry over it! There might be songs from this series which I ultimately prefer just by a little, but no song fucked me up as much as this one did."

Spiral of Ants (Lemon Demon)

Over and over/The pheromones, the overwhelming harmony/Consuming the colony/Creating its own gravity/Before we knew it we became a hurricane/And the bugs who laughed got blown away

"The instrumental is so melancholy but somehow so groovy, and I love the bassline and the singer's voice and the synthesizers. Not to mention the background vocals and the ominous humming at the end. Mmm just let me lay on the floor in the dark and let me sink into the void while I contemplate my mortality and my fleeting existence. Anyway this song is about how sometimes ants get stuck following their own scent trails and end up walking in a circle until they all die of exhaustion, but metaphorically it's about how conformity can cause a society to collapse. Not to mention this is the last song of the album. The last line is "The Circle rules your life" for a song about death and the first song, Lifetime Achievement Award (a song about reviving the dead) starts with the line "Die hard fans adored your hands" making the album a loop of death and revival linked by ominous white noise."

Super Star Spectacle submitted by @insertbrowsinghere