#song of clarity/turmoil

[rapha-reads]

Things that make me laugh like a lunatic alone in my room at 3am: reading an article about "the nature of healing in My Neighbor Totoro" while listening to a 1-hour loop of the Song of Clarity/Song of Turmoil from The Untamed. I don't think I'm dong a lot of healing right now.

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter ten

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . not proofread sorry, i had to take a break from writing my dissartaion to write this and i cannot fathom looking at my laptop for any longer tonight. also this chapter is v v angst so prepare yourselves <3 )

Y/N stared at her buzzing phone, her heart pounding in her chest. Mason's name flashed on the screen, a stark reminder of the tangled web of emotions she found herself caught in. She knew he must have seen Max's unexpected PDA on the TV, and she could only imagine the turmoil it stirred within him. 

Part of her wanted to answer, to offer some kind of explanation or reassurance. But another part, the part that had brought her to Monaco in the first place, urged her to leave the call unanswered. She wasn't sure if talking to Mason would only complicate things further, or if it would bring some clarity to the chaos swirling in her mind. 

So, with a shaky hand, she silenced the ringing phone and tucked it back into her purse, her decision made but her uncertainty still lingering like a shadow in the back of her mind, but she tucked her worries away the best she could and went to watch Max’s press conference.  

After Max finished his press obligations, he diligently scanned the bustling area, his keen eyes searching for Y/N amidst the crowd. When he spotted her, patiently waiting for him, a genuine smile stretched across his face, illuminating his features with a warmth that mirrored the affection he held for her. 

Approaching her, he caught her eye, his gaze softening as he reached her side. "Hey," he greeted, his voice laced with genuine appreciation. "Thanks for being here." 

Y/N returned his smile, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "You were fantastic out there," she complimented, her voice a blend of pride and affection. 

Max's smile widened at her words, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thanks," he replied sincerely, his appreciation evident in his tone. "It means a lot to have you waiting for me as I step out of the car" 

As the press area buzzed with activity around them, Max's expression shifted slightly, his demeanor taking on a more serious tone. "Listen," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of concern. "I have to stay late for a few meetings with the engineers. It might take a while." 

Y/N nodded understandingly, though a flicker of disappointment flashed across her features. "Okay," she acknowledged, her tone tinged with understanding. "I'll head back to your house then." 

Max's eyes softened at her response, his gratitude evident in his gaze. "Thanks," he murmured appreciatively. "I'll join you later." 

Just before he turned to leave, Max leaned in, his movements gentle yet deliberate, and planted a quick, casual kiss on her lips. The unexpected intimacy sent a shiver down her spine, leaving her momentarily stunned as she watched him walk away. 

As Max disappeared into the throng of people, Y/N stood rooted to the spot, her mind whirling with a myriad of emotions. The brief encounter left her feeling both exhilarated and bewildered, unsure of how to process the sudden surge of intimacy between them. It was so quick and casual, like it was something they had done a thousand times before. 

Feeling a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her, Y/N decided to divert her thoughts by immersing herself in a familiar task. With a determined stride, she made her way to the nearest supermarket along the route to Max's house. As she perused the aisles, memories of the cozy café in London where she and Max had shared hot chocolates flooded her mind. 

Gathering the ingredients for the comforting drink, Y/N found solace in the routine of selecting the perfect items. She carefully chose the finest cocoa powder, the creamiest milk, and a sprinkle of cinnamon for that extra touch of warmth. With her purchases secured, Y/N made her way to Max's house, the weight of the bag in her hand a reassuring anchor. She greeted Max's two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, with a fond smile before retreating to the kitchen to prepare the hot chocolates. The routine of the task brought her a sense of calm, the rhythmic motions soothing her frazzled nerves. 

As she waited for the milk to warm and the chocolate to melt, Y/N couldn't help but replay the moment of the kiss in her mind. It had been so quick, so casual, yet its impact lingered, leaving her with a flurry of questions and conflicting emotions. She pushed aside the uncertainty, focusing instead on the simple act of gratitude she wanted to express to Max for his hospitality and kindness. 

When Max walked through the door and caught sight of Y/N standing in the kitchen, a wave of warmth flooded his chest. The comforting aroma of hot chocolate enveloped him, filling the air with a sense of home. Yet, as he approached, he noticed a hint of uncertainty in Y/N's demeanor, her eyes flickering with a touch of insecurity. 

Before she could overthink it, Y/N launched into a ramble, her words tumbling out in a rush of nervous energy. "I, uh, wanted to do something to say thank you for letting me stay here, but I can't cook, and I just didn't know what to do. But I know how much you liked the hot chocolate from that café in London, so I thought I could try and remake that, but I'm sure it won't taste the same, and I th—" 

Max gently interrupted her rambling with a soft smile, stepping closer to wrap his arms around her. "Hey," he murmured, his voice warm and reassuring. "You didn't have to do anything. But I love it, really. Thank you." 

His words washed over Y/N like a soothing balm, easing the knots of insecurity that had tightened in her chest. With a shy smile, she poured them each a cup of hot chocolate, the familiar ritual grounding her in the moment. 

As they settled on the couch to watch a movie, Y/N felt a sense of contentment wash over her. The warmth of the hot chocolate and the comfort of Max's presence enveloped her, lulling her into a sense of relaxation. Soon, she found herself drifting off to sleep, the steady rhythm of Max's heartbeat a soothing lullaby. 

When she stirred slightly in her sleep, Max gently lifted her in his arms, carrying her to her bed with a tenderness that made her heart flutter. As he laid her down, she murmured softly, her words barely audible in her half-asleep state. 

"Stay," she whispered, her voice tinged with vulnerability. 

Without hesitation, Max nodded, his heart swelling with affection as he settled in beside her. Y/N snuggled close to Max, seeking refuge in his comforting arms. He held her tight, their bodies entwined as they melted into the warmth of each other's presence. In the soft glow of the moonlight, they found solace, their breaths synchronized as they succumbed to the tranquility of sleep, their hearts beating in unison. 

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting a warm glow through the windows of Max's apartment, Y/N gradually emerged from the depths of sleep. She reached out instinctively, her hand searching for the comforting presence of Max beside her, only to find the space next to her empty. Blinking away the haze of sleep, she noticed a neatly folded note on the nightstand, Max's handwriting scrawled across the page. 

She unfolded the note, the words written in Max's familiar script inviting her to help herself to breakfast and join him at the track whenever she was ready. A soft smile graced her lips as she absorbed his thoughtful gesture, a warmth spreading through her at the reminder of his presence. 

Rising from bed, she made her way to the kitchen, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Max had left everything she needed for breakfast, from cereal and fruit to freshly baked pastries. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she savored the quiet solitude of the morning, the gentle hum of the city outside a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. 

After a leisurely breakfast and a refreshing shower, Y/N dressed quickly, anticipation building with each passing moment. Grabbing her bag and Max's spare pass, she made her way to the track, the excitement of race day tingling in the air. The paddock buzzed with activity as teams made final preparations, the energy contagious as she navigated her way through the crowd. 

Spotting Heidi among the throng, Y/N waved eagerly, her spirits lifting at the sight of her friend. They exchanged warm greetings, their conversation flowing easily as they made their way to a prime viewing spot. As the race began, Y/N found herself swept up in the exhilarating spectacle, the roar of the engines and the thunderous applause of the crowd filling her with excitement. 

With each passing lap, Max's car surged ahead, his skill and determination evident as he battled for position. Y/N cheered him on with fervor, her heart swelling with pride at his remarkable performance. Beside her, Heidi shared in her enthusiasm, their shared love of racing forging a deep bond between them. 

Amidst the chaos of the race, Y/N's phone began to ring, the sound interrupting the roar of the engines. Surprised to see Ben's name flashing on the screen, she stepped away from the crowd, the noise of the garage fading into the background as she answered the call, a sense of curiosity piquing her interest. Her and Ben never really speak to each other outwith the time they spend with Mason or Reece, so she wasn’t sure what Ben could want. 

As Ben's panicked voice relayed the troubling events, a knot of worry tightened in Y/N's stomach. "Y/N, it's Ben," he began, his voice urgent. "You need to hear this. Mason... he... he snapped during the match today. Tried to start a fight, punched someone. He got a red card and just stormed off. Reece and I went to his house right after, but he won't answer the door or his phone. We're really worried about him." 

Y/N's heart sank at Ben's words, her mind racing with concern for her friend. "Oh my god, Ben. Is he okay? Where is he now?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry. 

"We don't know," Ben replied, his voice strained. "His car's outside, but he won't let us in. If there's anyone he'd talk to, it's you. Can you try calling him, check if he's okay?" 

With a sense of urgency, Y/N assured Ben that she would do everything she could to check on Mason. "I'll call him right away, Ben. Don't worry, we'll find him," she said, her voice determined as she ended the call and hurried back to Max's apartment, her mind completely forgetting about the race and Max. All she wanted to do was get to a quiet, private place to check on Mason 

As she made her way through the city streets, her thoughts were consumed by concern for Mason. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her since Ben's call, her mind filled with questions and worries about her friend's well-being. 

Finally reaching Max's apartment, Y/N wasted no time in dialing Mason's number, her heart pounding with each ring. "Mason, it's me," she said urgently as the call connected. "Ben told me what happened. Are you okay?" 

As Y/N arrived back at Max's apartment, her fingers trembling with anxiety, she wasted no time in dialing Mason's number, her heart pounding in her chest. "Mason, it's me," she said urgently as the call connected. "Ben phoned me. I'm really worried. What happened?" 

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line before Mason finally spoke, As Y/N listened to Mason's voice on the phone, she could hear the raw emotion in his words, his voice hoarse and strained as if he had been crying. It pained her to hear him like this, knowing that he was hurting. "I don't know what to do, Y/N," he confessed, his words heavy with despair. "It's like everything's falling apart. I don't want to lose you, but... I don't know how to fix this mess. It's all my fault." 

Her heart ached at the sound of his distress, her own worry deepening. "Mason," she said softly, trying to offer him some comfort. "I'll be back soon, okay? We'll figure this out together. But no matter what happens, you won't lose me. You're my best friend, and that will never change. I promise." 

There was a moment of heavy silence before Mason spoke again, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "I saw Max kiss you on TV," he admitted, his tone filled with anguish. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, and after a moment of silence, she sighed deeply, the weight of his words settling heavily upon her. "I know," she said solemnly, her voice tinged with sadness. 

"I wish... I wish I could go back a few weeks ago. I wish it didn't take me so long to figure out how I feel about you. I had you, and I threw it all away" 

Y/N's heart sank at his words, unsure of how to respond to his confession. "Mason," she murmured, her voice laced with sadness. "Let Ben and Reece in. When I’m back in London I’ll come and we’ll talk about all of this okay. I’ll be back before you know it okay. But you can’t do that on the pitch okay. Don’t throw your career away because of all of this, it’s not worth it. 

When Mason asked her to stay on the phone for a bit longer, Y/N couldn't refuse. She understood his need for some semblance of companionship in this turbulent moment. "Sure, Mason," she replied softly, her heart aching for her friend. "Just go let Ben and Reece in, and we'll chat for a while." 

Mason agreed, and soon the three of them were engaged in a conversation that danced around the unspoken tension lingering in the air. They talked about anything and everything, deliberately avoiding the elephant in the room. Ben shared a hilarious story about a disastrous date he once had, and they all laughed together, if only to momentarily escape the weight of their troubles. 

However, as the conversation flowed, Y/N's attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of a key turning in the door. Reality crashed back in, reminding her of Max and the fact that she had left the race midway through without a word to him. With a heavy heart, she interrupted the conversation. "Guys, I... I need to go," she said, her voice tinged with regret. 

There was a moment of silence before Mason spoke up, his voice filled with concern. "Everything okay, Y/N?" 

Y/N hesitated for a moment before replying, "Yeah, everything's fine. I just... I have to go. Take care, okay?" Without waiting for a response, she ended the call and prepared herself to face Max, her mind racing with uncertainty and anxiety. 

Max entered the apartment with an unmistakable storm brewing behind his eyes. His expression was a mixture of anger and concern, evident in the tight set of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. "Where were you?" he demanded as soon as he saw her, his voice laced with frustration. 

Y/N felt a pang of guilt as she faced him, knowing she had caused him worry. "I... I had to go," she stammered, feeling the weight of his disappointment bearing down on her. 

Max's frustration spilled out in a torrent of words. "I got out of the car looking for you, and you were just gone. No message, nothing. Heidi had no idea where you were. She said one minute you were there, and then you weren't," he recounted, his tone laced with frustration. 

He took a breath, his anger softening slightly as he continued, "I brought you here because I wanted to show you what my life was like. But you just left. I was really worried. Nobody knew where you were. I tried to phone you a hundred times, and it kept saying your phone was engaged." 

Y/N felt a pang of remorse wash over her at the realization of how much she had worried him. "I'm sorry, Max," she apologized, her voice laced with regret. "I didn't mean to cause you any worry. But, Mason needed me and i nee-” 

Y/N felt a pang of remorse wash over her at the realization of how much she had worried him. "I'm sorry, Max," she apologized, her voice laced with regret. "I didn't mean to cause you any worry. But, Mason needed me, and I needed to be there for him." 

Max's brow furrowed deeper, his frustration evident in the way he clenched his jaw. "Mason, Mason, Mason," he muttered, his tone tinged with exasperation. "It's always about him, isn't it?" 

Y/N recoiled slightly at the sharpness in his voice, her heart sinking with guilt. "It's not like that," she protested weakly, her words faltering under the weight of his accusation. 

Max's anger flared once again at her response. "Isn't it?" he retorted, his voice rising in frustration. "We spent an amazing week together, and I was feeling really positive about us. But one word from Mason, and I'm dropped." 

Y/N's heart ached at his words, the truth of them cutting deep. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I care about you, Max, I really do. But Mason is... he's my friend, and he needed me." 

Max's frustration was palpable, his anger radiating off him in waves. "I don't know what to do," he continued, his voice strained with emotion. "I want to be with you, but I can't keep competing with him for your attention. What do I have to do? Is there anything I can do or will Mason always come first.” 

Max's question hung heavy in the air, filling the room with an unbearable tension. Y/N felt the weight of his words pressing down on her, but try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to respond. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat, suffocated by the suffocating silence that enveloped them. 

Max watched her intently, his eyes searching hers for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope. But as Y/N's gaze fell to the ground, avoiding his, he felt his heart sink with a profound sense of disappointment. He had laid his heart bare, baring his vulnerability for her to see, but her silence spoke volumes. 

"F- fuck this," Max muttered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned away, his footsteps heavy against the floor. With a sharp exhale, he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding thud. 

Left standing alone in the wake of his departure, Y/N felt a surge of anguish wash over her, swallowing her whole in its bitter embrace.  

After everything Y/N couldn’t help but think that this what she deserved, to simply be alone.  

Tag List

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[eunseoksimp]

Care For You; Song Eunseok

a/n: posting a lot of my old throwaways because i haven’t had the time to sit down and write anything new yet :(

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend! Eunseok x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff at the end

Description: in the quiet of a fading evening, two souls meet where it all began. emotions simmer beneath the surface, caught between what was and what could be. in the silence, a fragile hope lingers.

Warnings: none

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the sun was setting over the city, casting long shadows across the park where you and eunseok had first met. the memory of that day was a bittersweet ghost, lingering at the edge of your mind as you walked towards the bench where he was waiting.

eunseok sat with his back to you by the old oak tree, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers against the dusky sky, his silhouette dark against the vibrant hues of the sky. his broad shoulders were hunched, a sign of the turmoil brewing inside him. the park was unusually quiet this evening, the usual chatter of children and joggers replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city.

as you approached him, the tension between you two was almost palpable, like a storm about to break. he turned as the sound of your footsteps neared, his eyes catching the dying light and reflecting a myriad of emotions—anger, regret, a hint of longing. you both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your past hanging between the two of you like an unspoken promise. his gaze was fixed on the ground, his brow furrowed in thought and you could almost see the gears turning in his mind, struggling to reconcile the torrent of emotions within him.

‘you really came,’ he said, his voice flat yet loaded with unspoken words.

‘i had to,’ you replied, your own voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. ‘we need to talk.’

eunseok’s laugh was bitter, a sharp contrast to the soft murmurs of the evening breeze. ‘talk? what’s left to talk about? we’ve said it all, haven’t we?’

taking a deep breath, the cool air filling your lungs with a clarity you desperately needed, you fight the urge to back down from his sharp gaze. ‘maybe we have. but we never really understood, did we?’

he stood up abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets, his face easily betraying his emotions, of someone who was ready to walk away. ‘understand what, exactly? that we’re stuck in this endless loop of hurting each other? that every time i see you, i feel like I’m drowning in memories I can’t escape? i just want it to be over, to be over you.’

the rawness in his voice struck you like a physical blow, its pain manifesting all the same as it spread through your chest and causing a lump to form in your throat. you understood why he was speaking the way he was, but it still hurt you, to hear that the one you loved wanted nothing to do with you.

‘eunseok,’ you began softly,treading carefully as you watched his chest rise and fall. ‘hate and love, they’re not so different, you know. they’re both deep feelings, and they both show that we care. the real opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference.’

his eyes flashed with a mixture of defiance and pain, like he didn’t accept what you were saying. so what are you saying? that because i hate you, it means i still love you?’

you stepped closer, close enough to see the tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body despite the chill in the air.

‘yes,’ you answered quietly. ‘it means you still care. and that means there’s something left worth saving.’

eunseok shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“you always were the optimist, always the person to look on the bright side,’ he muttered, half speaking to himself, but you still heard what he said.

‘have you ever thought that maybe caring isn’t enough? what if we’re just fooling ourselves?”

you reached out, hesitating for a moment before touching his arm, wanting to feel something from him. ‘maybe we are. but I’d rather fight with you and feel something, anything, than walk away and feel nothing. i know we can fix this eunseok.’

for a moment, the silence between you was thick and oppressive, weighed down with anxious thoughts and unspoken words, as if eunseok was sifting through a labyrinth of emotions, desperately searching for the right words to express the turmoil within him. then, slowly, his expression softened, the hard lines of his face easing into something almost vulnerable.

‘i don’t know if i can do this again,’ he whispered, his voice barely audible, and in the moment you wanted nothing more than to gently hold him in your arms, to caress his hair as you always did as you comforted him.

‘i thought the same way,’ you admit, your own voice cracking. ‘but i want to try. because even in our worst moments, i never felt indifferent. and that has to mean something.’

eunseok sighed, the sound heavy with years of accumulated sorrow. ‘do you remember the night i left?’ his voice was a whisper, filled with a pain that had never quite healed. ‘you begged me to stay, and i walked away. i told myself it was for the best, that we were toxic together.’

you nod, feeling the ache of that night as if it were yesterday. ‘i remember. i remember the way the door closed behind you, the way my heart shattered into pieces i thought i’d never be able to put back together.’

he looked away, the shadows deepening around you. ‘i thought about you every day. i wanted to call, to come back, but I couldn’t. my pride, my anger, it wouldn’t let me. i hated you for making me feel so weak, so vulnerable.’

‘i hated you too,’ you confessed, voice breaking. ‘for leaving me, for making me doubt everything we had. but the hate was always mixed with love, always tangled up in the memories of the good times.’

eunseok turned back to you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘we hurt each other so much. yet here we are. maybe that means something.’

‘maybe it does,’ you said, heart pounding in your chest. ‘maybe it means we’re not done yet. maybe it means we still have a chance to make things right.’

he took a step closer, closing the distance between you. ‘i’m scared,’ he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. ‘i’m scared of failing again, of losing you all over again.’

you reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands. ‘we might fail. but we might succeed. and we’ll never know unless we try.’

eunseok’s eyes searched yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a glimmer of hope. it was fragile, like the first buds of spring after a long, harsh winter, but it was there.

‘okay,’ he said finally, his voice steadying. ‘let’s try.’

you both sat down on the bench, the same one where your journey had begun, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you talked. really talked.

you shared your fears, your hopes, your dreams, and your regrets. there were moments of laughter and moments of tears, but through it all, there was an undeniable connection—a reminder of the bond that had brought you together in the first place.

as the hours passed and the night deepened, you found yourselves leaning into each other, the barriers that had kept you apart slowly crumbling. there was no need for grand gestures or dramatic declarations. it was enough to simply be there, side by side, facing the unknown together.

eunseok’s voice was soft, almost reverent, as he spoke. ‘do you remember the night we danced under the stars? we had no music, just the sound of the wind and our own laughter.’

you nodded, a smile spreading across your face. ‘how could i forget? it was one of the happiest nights of my life.’

he stood up, holding out his hand. ‘dance with me, then. no music, just us.’

you hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. you moved slowly, swaying to an imaginary melody, your bodies fitting together as if they had never been apart. the world around you faded, leaving only the rhythm of your hearts and the gentle whisper of the wind.

in that moment, you realised that love and hate were indeed intertwined, two sides of the same coin. and as long as you cared enough to fight, to try, to hope, there was always a chance for redemption.

he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. ‘one day at a time,’ he murmured, echoing your earlier words.

‘one day at a time,’ you agreed, your voice steady with newfound resolve.

as you stood there, wrapped in the darkness of the night, you felt a fragile hope blossom within you. it wasn’t a promise of an easy road or a perfect ending, but it was a start. and sometimes, a start was all you needed.

[beneath-a-moonlit-lake]

Rereading MDZS again and I don't think it really matters at all whether the music changed before or after Nie Mingjue kicked Jin Guangyao down the stairs because the Song of Turmoil was actually a pre-emptive strike that JGY made against NMJ.

Even if the music only changed after NMJ kicked JGY down the stairs, the timeline does mean that JGY had the altered Song of Clarity prepared and ready to use at most a few days directly after after the staircase incident. This means that -

JGY has already broken into the forbidden section of the Cloud Recesses's library and taken advantage of Lan Xichen's trust

JGY had already determined that the death of NMJ was an acceptable/desirable outcome before NMJ became a credible threat to him.

And JGY most certainly was not living in fear of NMJ. A lot of JGY's plans were dependent on the fact that NMJ wouldn't actually harm him. The escape after the murder of the Jin Captain, witnessing the assassination of WRH, letting Xue Yang off the hook, all of it was dependent on the belief that NMJ would relent and give him a second chance. He was actively volunteering to remain within easy reach of NMJ by playing the guqin for him.

It's hard to believe that the 3zun relationship was a real commitment for JGY. I think he chose his father, or at least, the kind of politics that his father was willing to engage in a long time ago. There was a conflict between that and the things that NMJ/LXC believed in, and the 3zun relationship was an acceptable loss that JGY made his peace with long before the cracks in the 3zun became impossible to overlook. Even the LXC/JGY connection is no exception. He might not have wanted LXC dead, but he was certainly willing to betray and discard that relationship. You cannot tell me that the man who had an escape route to Dongying plotted out even at the height of his power and status would not have considered the possibility that LXC might have suspected something.

I actually think the loss of the relationship was Qin Su would have been far more devastating to JGY despite the tiny amount of screentime that she had in the story. His relationship with Qin Su was a real and uncomplicated pleasure that JGY had in his life, with no direct conflict to his ambitions or his father's demands. It was a future and a family that was destroyed when the incestuous connection was revealed.

[reverieparacosm]

Art's Silent Language (Lukai Hwei x GN!Reader)

Warnings: violence, blood, slight torture, kidnapping

Chapter 4: Through the Artist's Eyes

(part 1 here)

Summary: Captured by Jhin, you face a final performance of pain and beauty. Will this be Jhin's last act, or just the beginning of something more?

(Note is at the end of the chapter)

A searing pain lanced through your skull, each beat of your heart a hammer blow against it. You fight to open your eyes, the world a swirling vortex of darkness and pain. You blink, the world snapping into focus, revealing a figure bathed in the dim, ethereal glow of a single lantern.

Jhin.

His lips curl into a smile that holds no warmth, only a chilling, unsettling amusement. He moves with a grace that belies the terror he instills, his fingers, slender and elegant, tracing the outline of a wound on your head.

The cloth he holds, pristine white against the darkness, is a stark contrast to the crimson blossoming on it. He presses it gently against your wound, the pressure a searing agony. But there is a strange, almost hypnotic quality to his touch, a calculated precision that feels more like a surgical procedure than a simple act of tending to a wound. Each stroke of the cloth is deliberate, methodical, as if he were an artist meticulously applying paint to a canvas. The blood, once a vibrant red, is absorbed into the fabric, leaving a dark, ominous stain that mirrors the chilling dread that grips your heart.

You try to speak, to scream, but your throat is parched, your voice a mere croak.

"Shh, do not struggle," he coos, dabbing at your face. You flinch at his touch, feeling scrapes where your skin meets ropes. Jhin examines you with a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and malice, as if savoring discomfort. "You’ll make this worse for yourself," he warns softly, leaning very close.

"Release me," you say sharply.

Jhin throws back his head and laughs, a grating cacophony that sets your nerves on edge. Slowly, he circles you, trailing a gloved finger along your tense shoulders.

"My dear captive, you presume to threaten me?" he croons softly. "It is I who hold power in this dance, not some chirping fledgling gasping in my claws."

Halting before you, Jhin grips your chin in a punishing grip. His veneer of control cracks, exposing raving lunacy beneath.

"No artist lets his muse flee until the opus is complete! I have divined such exquisite torments for our finale. Through your anguished song will I craft my crowning masterwork!"

His long-fingered hand traces your cheekbone, leaving a trail of cold in its wake. You tremble under his gaze, uncertain of what horrors lay in store. 

You struggle against your bonds, to no avail. Jhin observes your movements with interest, like a painter studying his subject. Outside, the sunset paints the decaying walls in hues of orange and gold.

"Through art, all things can be transformed," Jhin continues rapturously. "Your mortal flesh will become something everlasting. I will alchemize your essence until only brilliance remains."

He lifts a glinting tool, and you see it is a sculpting knife, its edge honed to deadly precision. Panic rises in your throat as Jhin studies the play of fading sunlight on the blade.

"Diamonds, like humanity, are born of turmoil. Extreme heat and pressure fuse the chaotic cloud into clarity. So too shall you be remade." His voice rings with messianic fervor. "Soon, you will shine eternally as my greatest creation. The transformation begins...let the ceremony commence!"

As your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, more details of your surrounds emerge. Crumbling brick walls are papered with faded posters advertising long-forgotten shows. A thick layer of dust covers the worn floorboards; your chair stands center-stage in a decrepit house.

Overhead, tattered curtains sway in the breeze drifting through broken windows. Beams of dying sunlight pierce the gloom, illuminating spinning dust motes like flecks of gold. It is a place suspended between creation and ruin - the perfect setting for Jhin's dark vision. 

The artist himself paces before you, muttering excitedly to himself.

"The lighting is perfect, the composition sublime," he muses. "All that remains is to complete my masterwork."

Jhin's hands flit restlessly over his assortment of strange artifacts: gleaming surgical tools, arcane tomes bound in human skin, vials containing viscous liquids and mysterious powders. His meticulous artist’s mind sorts rapidly through options.

Finally, he selects an instrument resembling a paintbrush, but its bristles end in thin blades. He tests the edge delicately against his finger, nodding in approval at the bead of blood welling forth. 

"First, we strip away your outer shells," Jhin declares, tracing the blade lightly over your cheek. "Only then can your truest essence shine through, polished to dazzling radiance.”

Jhin steps close, looming over you with the metallic bristles poised at your throat. You thrash against the ropes binding you, heart pounding, to no avail.

"Peace, my subject," Jhin soothes. "Struggle will only prolong your suffering. Remain still, and I can elevate you to glory." 

His gaze bores into you. With a surgeon's precision, he drags the blade slowly down your neck. You cry out as beads of blood rise in its wake, crimson against your skin.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the blade presses deeper. You inhale sharply but do not cry out - you will not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

A bead of blood wells and Jhin leans in, tongue darting out to sample your essence on his lips.

"Sweet," he groans, eyes fluttering closed. When they open once more, wild hunger blazes within. Jhin looms closer still, trapping you with his gaze as the knife dances over your hammering pulse.

Jhin makes a small noise of pleasure, tilting his head to observe his handiwork. "Exquisite. The raw material reveals its luster."

"Transformation is seldom pleasant," Jhin comments clinically. "But pain birth beauty, as fire shapes the jewel."

"I knew from the start what lurked beneath your silken words and gifts," you say coldly. "The way you twisted Hwei's heart to suit your depraved games, used his passion as just one more sick puppet in your shows."

Jhin's gloved fingers suddenly wrap tight around your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. His touch is cold yet burns your skin all the same. 

Jhin cocks his head, regarding you with a curled smile. "The petal thought he understood my art. In time, he too would have become a masterpiece."

His patronizing tone only fuels your fury. "I saw how you fed on his love like some parasite, how you twisted his mind until he was but a shadow, living only to feed the void within you."

Chuckling softly, Jhin runs his thumb along your swollen bottom lip. "And what of you, my feisty little songbird? Do you also fly willingly into the fox's waiting jaws?"

You meet his eyes steadily. "Your acts of violence and violation do not move me. I understand you better than you understand yourself - you who knows only how to feed chaos and feel nothing."

Jhin's smiling mask shatters, giving way to something ravenous and raw. "Feel nothing?" he snarls, seizing your face in a crushing grip. "I feel it all, each exquisite moment - the passion, the rapture, the divine perfection of destruction! Through my art alone do I truly live!"

Releasing you, he draws back, composure sliding neatly back into place. But his eyes hold a new calculation.

"And what makes you think you know my intentions, my dear?" he whispers, voice low and deadly. Bloodlust swirls in his eyes yet something else flickers there - intrigue, admiration for your spirit.

You swallow yet hold his stare, defiant to the last. "I see the emptiness within you. Your 'art' is but a shallow mimicry of passion, meaningless destruction performed for an audience of one."

Jhin laughs softly, a mirthless sound. His flawless mask cracks, revealing the gaping void beneath, the ache that drives him to create through carnage alone.

Leaning impossibly close, he breathes against your trembling lips. "Perhaps you know me better than I thought, my clever sparrow. If shallowness is what you perceive...then let me show you the inferno that consumes."

With that, his mouth slants hard over yours, ravaging with a desperate hunger to feel - to feel anything amid the numbness. You gasp into the kiss, your heartbeat answering his like clashing symbols in a dark symphony.

For a stolen moment, passion transcends intention as you drown in sensation. But when Jhin pulls away, craving and madness have resurfaced in his eyes once more. The tender illusion shatters, and you know - this was but one more manipulating performance in his grisly design.

He rises and paces, gesticulating wildly.

"That kiss was but another brushstroke on the canvas of our drama together. Through it, I sought merely to elicit emotion - yours, and of the audience that surely hangs on our every moment."

Pausing, Jhin gazes down at you. His perfect features twist into a ghastly mockery of affection.

"Did you feel, little songbird, as I tore open your heart? Did you tremble with anguished rapture, swept along in the ecstatic tide of annihilation?"

His mocking laughter rings through the dusty room.

Jhin grips your hair forcefully, pulling your head back as he breathes against your neck, his warm breath sends shivers racing down your spine. You feel your back arch involuntarily.

He leans in closer, his lips grazing your skin as he slightly bites down on your neck, the sensation both pleasurable and painful.

His hand glides down your arms, fingers trailing lightly as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The touch feels possessive, yet there’s a strange tenderness in his movements. You can’t help but feel the tension building between you, a dance of power and vulnerability. He then shifts his attention to the bindings on your wrists, circling your wrist with his thumb in a deliberate manner, as if testing the strength of your restraints. For a fleeting moment, it feels as if he’s loosening them just enough to let hope flicker to life.

But the moment is fleeting. You turn your head away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the feelings swirling inside you. Just as you think you’ve escaped his grasp, he takes your face in both of his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes. His thumb brushes softly against your lips.

"That, my dear, is the only 'passion' I know—the opus of agonies I craft through my works," he whispers, his voice smooth and chilling. "All else is but pale imitation. Remember that… should any wisp of feeling dare cloud your judgment."

With a savage grin and swish of his cloak, Jhin is once more lost to his dark imaginings, leaving you questioning all you thought you knew of this depraved artist.

As Jhin turns away to arrange his infernal stagecraft, you gather every ounce of strength and begin to struggle anew against your bonds. The ropes bite cruelly into your wrists, yet you twist and strain with wild desperation. 

Jhin pays you no mind, lost in his own deranged mutterings as he lays out gleaming utensils.

Seeing your chance, you redouble your efforts with a frenzied yell. The ropes fray and tear—and with one final wrench, your hands rip free!

Jhin whirls at the sound, anger flaring in his eyes at being denied his dark muse. But you waste no time gawking at the monster—you launch from the chair at him.

Off-balance, Jhin crashes to the dust-caked floorboards. His blade skitters away into the shadows.

Not sparing a glance at him, you sprint for the splintered exit with renewed vigor. Black night swallows your retreating form as you pour every ounce of will into escape.

Laughter and rage and the sound of pounding footsteps chase on your heels.

Your lungs burn as you push your exhausted body further into the desert night. Jhin's maniacal laughter still echoes behind you, though the sound is fading with each step. You dare not look back, knowing his twisted grin will be etched in your mind if you do. All that matters is putting as much distance between him and yourself as possible.

Up ahead, a faint glow peeks through the sparse trees - an oasis. New adrenaline surges through your veins at the sight of what might offer refuge. Sand kicks up with each footfall as you rush toward the glowing pool of water. Palm trees whip past you in a blur, their branches outstretched like beckoning arms guiding you to safety.

Bursting into the small oasis, you stumble to a halt beside the water's edge. Your hands brace against your knees as greedy lungs drink in air. Through the shallow pants, your ears strain for any sign you are still being pursued. Only the gentle lapping of waves meets them, the normal night sounds of the desert serenading the sparse trees.

Slowly, muscles uncoil from their clenched state. The immediate threat seems past, at least for now. You lower yourself fully to the cool sand and let the sight of glittering water soothe frazzled nerves.

Soft moonlight dances across the surface, dappling the shore in an ethereal glow. Clarity returns along with your breathing, allowing reality to truly sink in.

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the desert chill.

Pushing to unsteady legs, you shuffle closer to the pool's edge. Your parched throat begs for refreshment after the exhausting escape. Cupping greedy hands, you bring the cool liquid to chapped lips. Too soon, the last droplets fall from your palms. Thirst barely slaked; other needs demand attention in your weary state.

Scanning the sandy shore, your gaze lands on a cluster of palm fronds piled near the trees. With any luck, they might offer cushion and cover for the night. One problem at a time - rest now, plans later. Heavy feet carry you to the pile and you collapse into the fronds with a sigh. Cool surrounds quickly lull frayed senses as lingering adrenaline fades into exhaustion.

Darkness pulls you under like a comforting blanket.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The desert night is alive with the constant song of insects and wildlife. A sliver of moon drifts overhead amid patches of scattered clouds, casting the oasis in a dim glow.

As you drift in the space between sleep and waking, a shiver runs through your body that has nothing to do with the cool night air. 

Something is different. An energy tingles at the edge of perception, faint yet familiar. Slowly prying open weary eyes, you lift your head from the nest of palm fronds.

Rippling across the surface of the water is a blur of colors, dancing in hues too vibrant to be natural.

A paintbrush comes into focus, wielded by a figure kneeling at the pool's edge. Colored wisps trail his movements like an artist’s ashes, each strand levitating impossibly in the air.

There is no mistaking Hwei's magical brush at work, weaving ephemeral illustrations that shimmer on the water's canvas.

His eyes, iridescent even in shadow, find yours across the shore. Recognition lights within those prismatic orbs before flickering with an emotion you can’t place. Concern? Relief?

With fluid grace, Hwei rises and strides to your side. Up close, faint scents of oils and pigment cling to his frame. His gaze roams your form, lingering on patches of torn cloth.

"You're hurt." His voice is soft yet carries an undercurrent that raises the hairs along your nape. Fingers gently grasp your wrist to examine your wounds. You suppress a wince at the contact.

"It's nothing serious." Your assurance does little to quell the tempest raging behind Hwei's eyes. Releasing your arm, he pulls his brush from where it is strapped across his back. Colors sprung to life along the bristles at his beckon, bleeding together into a soothing teal wash.  

Without a word, Hwei dips the brush’s edge into the shimmering paint. Your breath hitches as cool bristles make contact, tracing delicate lines along your wounds.

Where pigment spreads, numbness follows in its wake, deadening pain.

Fascinated, you watch reddened skin knit together before eyes, leaving fresh and unmarred in the healing liquid’s wake.

Magic, or simple a gift of Hwei’s brush? Impossible to say where abilities end and the artist begins.

You gaze up to find his focus intent on the task, lips parted slightly as his skill purifies damaged flesh. Heat rises unbidden to your cheeks under such devoted care. Your heart, already quickened from your closeness, threatens to burst from your ribs. 

The last abrasions disappear under careful strokes. Hweis' eyes lift to yours, their depths reflecting colors and emotions too deep to comprehend.

One arm encircles your waist and pulls you against his slender form, the other brushes tousled strands of hair from your face. His thumb lingers and caresses the line of your jaw with tenderness.  

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Hwei’s hushed murmur causes lids to flutter closed, lost in the soothing rumble of his voice.

Lips meet yours then, slow and searching as if committing every facet to memory through touch alone.

With utmost care, he gathers you into his lap to cradle against his chest. One hand soothingly combs through your hair while the other takes up his brush anew. Upon the oasis sands, Hwei begins to paint in colors of serenity.

Lush blooms spill from under his talented strokes—petite lilies burst with dewdrops; morning glories unfurl translucent petals. Their vivid hues shine all the brighter in the shadows of night. As detail after detail comes alive, the flowers' sweet fragrance joins the cool desert air.

Instead of darkness, visions of sunlit gardens dance behind your closed eyes. Hwei watches vigilantly, brush never ceasing until the last stem stands vibrant and whole. Only then does he set the magical implement aside once more. You feel relaxed and calm.

Gently, he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. Hwei gazes for long moments, memorizing each fleeting emotion buried beneath fatigue. His hands cup your cheeks with care.

"Let me share this burden," Hwei murmurs, breath soft against your lips between words. "I would bear it all if only it rids you of pain."

Then slowly, he lowers his mouth to yours in a kiss filled with promise and devotion profound as the stars above.

Art is the highest form of hope.

All thoughts flee under that tender onslaught. Your hands tangle in his tunic, clinging to escape the nightmares of past hours in his grounding presence.

Within the circle of his embrace, reality seems but a distant dream. Here, in Hwei's arms, you know only comfort, protection... and love that shelters your heart, always, from any threat in the waking world.

As the stars light creeps over the dunes, you stir in Hwei's tender embrace. Beneath palms and stars, the remainder of night has passed in comforting solace.

Gaze meeting Hwei's own, you ask in hushed tones, "How did you find me here?" A rueful smile touches his lips, fingers lifting to brush aside disheveled locks. "Worry not over such details, my heart. What matters is you're safe now." 

Still the unknowns nag, his knowing eyes betraying depths beyond casual passersby. "Through your magic, wasn't it?” Hwei's nod grants affirmation, though guarded concern now creases his features. A painter's sight can unveil truths better left buried; it seems...

"Tell me what horrors drove you to this place," he bids softly, voice roughened by rising emotion kept barely leashed. And so, haltingly, the tale spills forth —of Jhins plan, his machinations to make you "a creation beyond compare." 

How Jhin's maddened machinations seek to immortalize your agonized demise. How by fortune or fate, an opportunity arises allowing escape from dire design. Yet escape is not the end, as horrors haunt memory still... 

At the story's close, Hwei grows deafly silent.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The journey back is a somber one. Smoke rises on the horizon long before Koyehn's Temple simple spires come into view, an ominous shroud hanging overall.

But no prayers can prepare you for the hellscape that awaits.

As the temple comes into sight, it is engulfed in angry orange tongues that devour sacred scrolls and timber alike. Embers swirl chaotically on smoldering thermals, borne aloft to spread ruin further still.

Hwei reins in with a sudden gasp, leaving you to brace against his back. You clutch him tight as anguished cries escape his lips, giving voice to the torment writ large across his features. Never do you see such depths of anguish from the stoic painter, who schools his passions into disciplined lines and fluid strokes.

"No..." Hwei's choked whisper tears at your heart. This place is his sanctuary, his home—now reduced to cindering ruins. You grasp his arm for support as much as offering console, finding only tremors wracking his lithe form in return.

His soul bleeds… and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly, swallows him whole.

His brush falls unheeded, magic sparking errant between clenched fingers as if begging release. Yet for all the chaos within, no colors escape Hwei's tight rein—not here, not for this.

Sliding to the ground, you pull him into your arms as tears carve trails down soot-stained cheeks. You stand locked in mournful embrace until the sobs begin to still, the conflagration within banked to smoldering embers once more by love's balm. Lips press against your hair, murmuring apologies for all that can never be regained.

As morning's light lifts the ashen pall shrouding all, the full horror of the night comes into grim clarity. Where once lived and worked over fourscore brothers and sisters, now only broken shells of walls remain amongst the rubble.

You pick your way over the ruins, hoping against hope that some sheltering alcove or secret chamber may offer refuge to even a sole survivor. But as the sun climbs overhead with no signs of life stirring, grim certainty takes root.

You stand alone as the last remnants of an order consigned now to memory alone.

Hwei searched the longest for any survivors, as if refusing to accept the bitter truth laid bare before your eyes. When he finally sinks to his knees in defeat, wracking sobs echo the agonized screams that must have filled the night air as flames claimed their victims. You pull him close, but no comfort of yours can staunch the flood of his grief.

In time, his tears run dry, leaving in their wake an exhaustion of body and spirit you fear no rest can repair.

Hwei wanders as one dead, seeking solace that forever eludes him amongst the ruins. Nights find him waking in terror, reliving each moment of devastation in vivid and gruesome detail no hand can capture.

One such night, a glint of color amidst the cinders draws his numbed feet. Lifted free, it reveals a fiendish trap, its petals splayed open in grinning mockery—a lotus blossom none, but one artist could have crafted.

Understanding dawns in those hollow eyes, a cascade of emotions stirring their murky depths once more: terror, sorrow, betrayal... and a dreadful fascination you know all too well.

The ruins fall silent once more as Hwei gazes unblinking upon that noxious blossom. You dare not break his reverie, dreading what shadows might take root should he linger too long in contemplation of such madness... and the dark allure it holds, even for one whose gift is life and color, not decay.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The crackling fire does little to cut through the tavern's smoky chill. You nurse a mug of ale, staring into the fire as if they might hold answers to questions plaguing Hwei's mind.

It has been moons since you left the smoking remnants of Koyehn behind you. Amongst the ashes, you find renewed purpose—your art brings messages of hope and restoration to weary communities... but sometimes also of destruction. But with each new dawn, fresh mysteries call Hwei ever onwards.

You glance to where he sits apart, brush hovering restlessly as always. His eyes, once home to passion's vibrant spectrum, now seem but windows onto an abyss churning with shadows.

Hwei seeks understanding through revelation of torment—by replicating each scene of suffering until its essence bleeds forth. You fear such intimacy with evil may leech away what remains of his light.

As the sun dips low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the tavern’s wooden beams, you sit beside Hwei, captivated by the way his brush dances across the canvas. Each stroke is filled with emotion, transforming the blank surface into a vibrant landscape of colors. Hwei pours his heart into the painting, bringing to life a sun rising triumphantly over a gentle sea, its rays bursting forth like tendrils of warmth. Hwei is completely absorbed in his painting.

Truly, no artist tolerates reality.

You lean closer, intrigued by the imagery. “Is it a sunset or a sunrise?” you ask, admiring the way the light plays in his eyes. Resting your chin on Hwei's shoulder, you feel a warm connection, as if the moment stretches into eternity.

Hwei pauses, his brush hovering above the canvas as he turns to you, a soft smile blooming on his lips. “It’s a sunrise,” he replies, his voice warm and tender. “A new beginning. I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.”

His gaze lingers on you, and in that moment, the world outside the tavern fades away. You feel a magnetic pull, an unspoken connection that draws you closer.

The ambiance is thick with the scent of paint and the calming whispers of the sea outside.

You close your eyes as his hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb softly traces your bottom lip. As he leans in closer, you can feel his warm breath mingling with yours.

His kiss is tentative at first, mere brushes of contact that leave you craving more. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against his form.

His other hand slides into your hair, fingers twisting in the strands to tilt your head to a better angle. His kiss becomes deeper, more passionate. When his tongue sweeps along your lip, you grant access eagerly. As your tongues meet, a soft moan escapes you.

All the while, his hand on your cheek begins a slow descent. Over your jaw, down your neck, it comes to rest on your waist. His fingertips graze under the edge of your shirt, sending sparks across your skin. You cling to him more tightly, lost in the bliss of his lips moving with yours.

When you finally part for air, he does not go far. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as you both pant, lost in the moment. His hand never strays from your waist, thumb making gentle strokes across the sensitive flesh. In his embrace, you have never felt so wanted, so cared for. It is here, in his arms, that you are meant to be.

Hwei opens his eyes and whispers, “Some people are artists. Some themselves, are art.”

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look into his eyes, which shimmer with joy and intensity. But as you glance back at the painting, something catches your eye. Dark, shadowy figures seem to writhe within the vibrant hues, lurking just beneath the surface of the canvas. They flicker in and out of existence, vanishing as quickly as they appear.

A shiver runs down your spine. “Hwei, do you see that?” you ask, pointing to the canvas.

His expression shifts, a shadow crossing his features. “I—I’ll protect you,” he says, his voice suddenly serious, his grip tightening around you. The remnants of the massacre at the temple echo in his eyes, a haunting reminder of the darkness he has faced.

“I know you will,” you reassure him, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, the weight of his past hangs heavy in the air. He leans into your touch, the warmth of your presence grounding him. “You’re my light,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the firelight dances upon Hwei's face, you trace gentle fingers along his jaw, brushing aside an ebony strand fallen askew.

Hwei leans into your touch with a soft sigh, clasping your fingers in his own. "I feel there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. I feel like art and love are the same thing: it’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.”

His lips graze your knuckles, stirring memories as vivid as yesterday's joyous discoveries. For a moment's respite, all traces of grief and care dissolve beneath remembered rapture...

...Until a sharp rap at the door shatters remnants of days past like spun glass.

You open the door. A single lotus flower lays on the ground.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The memories of Hwei's past weigh heavily on him, each loss a haunting echo in his mind. Yet, as he paints, the burdens begin to lift. His art speaks of grief and longing, capturing the essence of his experiences in hues and textures that transcend language. With every stroke, he communicates the inexpressible—an intimate connection to those who suffer alongside him.

While words can falter, art holds the power to bridge the chasms of isolation. It is a silent language, one that resonates deeply within the hearts of those who behold it, conveying feelings that can never be articulated. The beauty of creations offers solace, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, connection is possible through the shared understanding of emotion.

Art can speak for one, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. In a world rife with pain, it becomes a guiding light—a universal form of communication that unites hearts across boundaries.

Though silent, art speaks volumes. In this moment of catharsis through creative expression, one begins to find healing. Art provides an empowering and voiceless language to communicate intimate feelings beyond what words can say.

Especially in times of deep suffering when words fail, art becomes a "silent language" to express the inexpressible emotions of a soul.

Through art, one always finds a way to express the inexpressible, to share a silent language with the world.

Art's Silent Language.

Note: Well, here it is—finally the grand finale of my fanfic! 🎉 Did you notice that this is the fourth chapter and the whole thing clocks in at 14,444 words? I mean, come on, Jhin would definitely be proud of me for that little numerical homage. Four is his jam, right? Haha! So, about the ending... it’s kind of a happy one, or at least an open one. I did toy with the idea of killing off the protagonist—just a little cheeky thought, you know? Hehe. Oh! And I hope you caught the title drop at the end, “Art’s Silent Language.” Subtle, right? Or maybe not so much, but I tried! Now, I did mischaracterize Jhin a tad for my down-bad heart (shoutout to all my fellow simps!), but I did my best to keep him lore-accurate. This chapter is dedicated to all my broken artists out there. 💔 Don’t let life get you down—pick up the pieces and create something beautiful! That’s the real message here. Art can express feelings that words sometimes can’t. As I wrote, "Art is the highest hope." And for the Van Gogh fans, I hope you recognized some of his quotes sprinkled throughout! I love Van Gogh, and honestly, Hwei gives off major Van Gogh vibes. Plus, he has that surrealist flair, so it felt natural to weave in some of that genius. If you’re curious about my theories on Hwei, check out my theory account (https://www.tumblr.com/hwei-theories?source=share). And if you want to see more of my chaotic thoughts, here’s my main account (https://www.tumblr.com/reverieparacosm?source=share). Thanks for reading, everyone! Keep creating! 💖

[slytherheign]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS | daniel ricciardo

PART 4/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: ex!daniel ricciardo x fem!reader, max verstappen x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

WARNINGS: rejection, false hope, infatuation, feelings of hurt and overwhelming pain. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. we have reached the end of the series! sorry if i hurt some of you emotionally. btw, there are a lot of references to the previous parts in this.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Rejection.

A word that carried so much weight in matters of the heart. It hit him with a force he never saw coming, leaving him breathless, bewildered, and questioning every decision he had made.

The pain of rejection cut deep, undermining the confidence he once had, and casting shadows over the hopes and dreams he dared to envision. 

Rejected.

Rejected from McLaren.

Rejected from a Red Bull seat.

And now, he was rejected once again.

In an instant, his world felt shattered, and he questioned just how worthy he truly was of love and affection.

He poured his heart out, baring his soul in that vulnerable moment when he knelt on one knee. He thought you had shared something meaningful, a connection that was genuine and real.

He thought it would be enough.

Daniel’s car traveled home with one less person inside that night. But even if he was already in his garage, he refused to step out of his car. He stayed so he could sit there in his hurt. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within him.

It was hard, almost impossible, not to take it personally, to wonder what could have gone wrong. Was it something he said? Something he did? Or perhaps it was simply a matter of timing and circumstance, beyond his control.

He ran his hand through his hair, his face reflecting a mixture of frustration and resignation.

He could say that he longed for clarity, a glimpse into your thoughts and reasons, but that would be a lie. Because in all honesty, he kind of saw it coming.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that you picked Max or the fact that there was a part of him that always knew you would pick Max.

Why did he even try?

Oh, right.

Hope.

Because of hope.

He tried because you showed him hope.

You showed him hope—a glimmer of light that he hadn't seen in ages. Life had become monotonous, blending into an array of muted gray, until you came along. Your entry into his life was like a vibrant burst of color, injecting new life into his weary soul. He dared to hope, to believe that he had found something extraordinary.

It was a peculiar feeling. To be caught between longing and despair, to have his heart both soar and shatter within the same breath. The intoxicating aura of love was both a beacon of hope and a cruel illusion, and he found himself entangled in that painful paradox.

With a final deep breath, he left his car, ready to face his family who were staying in his home just for this special night. He told his family for a reason, he just couldn’t keep it in.

But now he wished he didn’t.

Cheer and applause were what met him when he entered the door. His family had huge smiles plastered on their faces, clearly excited about the news they were expecting. 

Until it stopped.

It all stopped when his lips trembled, trying to fake a smile. 

It all stopped when they saw the tears on his face.

They didn’t even need to ask what happened. They already knew.

His sister splashed out the bottle of Dom Perignon, but no one was celebrating. 

"She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's fucked in the head," his father said. His mom’s ring was still in his pocket, and your picture was still in his wallet. But love… 

Love slipped beyond his reaches.

There was nothing to celebrate.

Max was walking you home, still holding the umbrella to protect you from the rain. Neither of you spoke and neither of you really cared. Max knew, from the way your lips shook, eyes cried, and the whimpers that left your mouth, that you did not want to speak at that moment. He respected and understood that.

He was more understanding now than he was before.

You were speechless. Your mouth could not utter a single word, but your mind made up for it by clouding itself with overwhelming thoughts.

You remembered that one night when fate played a part in your first meeting with Daniel. 

That night, he asked you to dance and you refused. You refused because you knew he was asking you to dance to a song of love and new beginnings.

But after a single conversation, it was you who asked him if he was still willing to dance.

You always knew that dancing was a dangerous game. But that night, you started it when you offered your hand to Daniel.

The dance continued. 

But now, you dropped his dance while dancing. Left him out there, crestfallen on the landing with your champagne problems.

One for the money.

Two for the show.

You never were ready.

So, you let him go.

And you left him alone.

You just didn’t know the answer until he was already on his knees and asked you.

You couldn’t even give him a reason.

His proposal should have brought you joy, excitement, and a feeling of being cherished. But instead, you had found yourself struggling, torn between the present and the ghosts of your past.

The same exact past that was walking beside you right now.

It was not that Daniel wasn't kind or loving, he truly was. He possessed all the qualities one could desire in a partner. But your heart lingered elsewhere.

There was someone before him. Someone who awoken a flame within you, a love so fierce and profound that it felt like it could withstand anything. And then, life happened, you drifted apart, and your paths diverged towards separate horizons.

But even as the seasons changed, and new opportunities came knocking at your door, that love never truly left you. It remained etched in the deepest recesses of your being, an indelible mark upon your soul.

Accepting his proposal would have been a betrayal, not only to him, but to yourself as well. It was a painful decision to make, but you owed it to yourself and to him, to be honest and not settle for anything less than a love that was pure. For one can only truly give their heart to another when they are whole themselves.

His heart was glass and you dropped it.

You didn’t even notice you reached your apartment until Max opened the door for you. He sat you down on your couch, before leaving you for a moment to heat some water and prepare a bath for you. 

He went back right after, crouching in front of you so he could see your face. You were looking down, still crying. He placed a finger under your chin, moving it upwards so you could face him. And then he fixed the wet hair that covered your face, wiped your tears, and kissed your forehead.

The heart wants what it wants, and yours was still beating in an unbreakable rhythm alongside the person in front of you��Max.

You suddenly recalled what Daniel told you before, when he told you an advice his father gave him and then he explained it.

“Time matters, yes. But the length is subjective. Love is not supposed to be a competition where time is the sole judge. Sometimes, longer doesn’t mean healthier, and shorter doesn’t make it insincere or artificial.”

He said that love was not supposed to be a competition. And he was not wrong about that.

It wasn’t a competition because it never was a competition in the first place.

You loved Daniel, but you were in love with Max.

It was always Max.

He poured his heart into that proposal, believing that you were the one. He had envisioned a future together with you, filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. But perhaps fate had different plans in store for him. And though it stung him, he must pick up the pieces and keep moving forward.

His heart ached now. Those promises whispered in the darkest hours, the dreams woven with tender hands, they all shimmered with the possibility of a love that transcended boundaries. He clung to those words, as fragile as glass, praying that they would withstand the test of time.

Yet, here he was, lost in a labyrinth of broken dreams. The reality bit bitterly, gnawing at the frayed edges of his shattered heart. False hope, they called it. A cruel game of chance that you unwittingly roped him into. He knew, deep down, that you didn't do it intentionally. And that knowledge is what steeped his sorrow in a pot of bittersweet brew.

Because despite the pain that seared through his veins, he couldn't summon an ember of anger towards you. Love had a way of blinding people to the faults of those we held dearest. And so, he found himself teetering on the precipice of resentment and forgiveness, unable to fully commit to either.

It was a lonely place to be trapped in, the emotional escape room in his heart that didn't have an escape. The echoes of once-hopeful conversations reverberated through the hollow chambers of his mind, each word etching deeper into his wounded heart. 

Though the pain felt overwhelming now, Daniel knew that time would heal his wounds. It may take days, weeks, or even months, but he would pick up the pieces, rebuild his shattered heart, and learn to love again.

NETHERLANDS. AUGUST 25, 2024.

Daniel was running down the paddock, planning to head to the pitlane when a curious photographer stopped him to ask a question.

“Sorry for asking this, but I think I speak for all of us,” the photographer pointed to the fans behind him who were clearly recording this exact moment. They cheered the moment Daniel looked at them and he smiled. “When I say we are all curious about what really is your relationship with Y/N?” the photographer continued.

He chuckled. “Why did you want to know that?”

“Well, she hasn’t been beside you for months and then we just saw her with Max hours ago before you came.”

He could only smile, a genuine one.

“Y/N and I are friends, really close friends like what we’ve always been.”

“Really? Some of us thought you were dating because she was seen a lot with you before,” a fan shouted.

He laughed.

They didn’t need to know.

“What? I can’t have a female friend now?” he joked.

“Now that I’m thinking about it… you never launched anything,” the photographer mentioned.

Right. Even after dating you for months, you didn’t want to be affectionate with him in public. That was another telltale sign he chose to ignore. That was the reason he decided to propose in just under 6 months of being in a relationship with you. It was because he was in a rush, he thought that if you became engaged, you would finally let him tell the world about the two of you.

Now that he thought about it, maybe what he had was just an infatuation. An infatuation so intense that it hurt like the real thing. Maybe for so long, he just wanted to feel something and you came along at the right time. He didn’t even know anymore. And he didn’t want to know. It was all in the past.

“That’s right,” Daniel nodded. “Because we have nothing to launch.”

Just as he said that, you and Max entered his view. You two were holding hands and Max was laughing at something you said.

Daniel smiled.

“Look at them,” he gestured to you and Max, the photographer and the fans looked at who he was pointing to. “Max and her are literally meant for each other.”

“I’ve never seen Max laugh like that before,” the photographer said.

“Well, Y/N is the only one who could make him laugh like that if we’re being honest,” he chuckled again. “They make a great couple, they make each other so happy. And I’m happy for them,” he said.

Love wasn't a dead-end road; it was a winding path, full of twists and turns. Rejection was a part of that journey. For deep within, beyond the realms of rejection, dwelled a longing for love that refused to extinguish. He believed there was someone out there, someone who was meant to be for him, just as you were meant to be with Max.

There was one more thing Daniel always believed in other than taking chances.

It was that everything happens for a reason.

You and Max caught his eyes. Max nodded at him, he nodded back. 

If he could turn back time, he wouldn't change a thing.

He may not have found the love of his life, but he did find another best friend. 

He smiled at both of you, and you returned his smile.

You both knew Daniel would find the real thing instead.

She would patch up the tapestry that you shred.

And he wouldn’t even remember all your champagne problems.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

JOIN THE FINALE CELEBRATION!

[thisizznotizzy]

So I was bored and looked up the meaning to one of the theme songs Gege assigned Geto (big mistake), in this character theme song thing he did for the jjk characters awhile back. Well one of Geto’s songs, “Come back home” by Two Door Cinema Club is about the emotional turmoil and longing for reconciliation after a relationship has ended. The theme of the song touching on regret, missed opportunities, and the struggle to find strength and clarity in moving forward. Basically talking about the pain and healing process of dealing with a lost love.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough I looked up one of Gojo’s theme songs (another big mistake), “Shame on Me” by Avicii. The song talks about a relationship gone sour due to partners infidelity and deceit. The lyrics describe a situation in which the protagonist is love with someone who cheats on them multiple times. They still love them though despite this because they can’t live without them. In the end though the protagonist realizes they need to leave, and they have to come to terms with the end of a once promising relationship.

Didn’t look up the meanings to the other songs they had listed for them, but yeah just felt like sharing :,)

Probably not the first one to point this out, and I could have def got the meanings wrong but I just really wanted to share this because I never heard anyone talk about this. Anywho have a nice day!

[linos-luna]

New family 🥀

Bang Chan x Reader

Warning: mention of abuse and sexual trauma

(Pt. 1) — (Pt. 2)

————————— 🥀 ————————

Home life was toxic and your childhood was rough. It’s only recently that you moved out of your mom’s house and since then, you only really keep in contact with your siblings.

The whole family dynamic was toxic. From your immediate to extended. Your mom was verbally abusive. Your our dad… well we don’t even talk about him. He went to prison when you were a baby and that’s all you know.

Although you did grow up with a stepdad. A straight up abusive narcissist. Your sibling were your half siblings so you were the stepchild to him. And he abused you on the daily. Verbal, physical, and even sexual… until you finally reported him. But even then, he just moved out.

Living with your mom as an adult was also tense as you two never got along

Eventually you had a moment of clarity. Realizing that this isn’t normal. So you tried cutting them off. It’s hard and you deal with the turmoil of that constantly…

~~~~

You had a friend named Chan, well actually his name was Chris but Chan was a nickname he liked. You met him in college and have been a little more than friends ever since. You never officially dated for a while, only flirting really. Although you suppose you’re dating now since he’s taken you home to meet his family already…

He was so kind. The sweetest guy you’ve ever met. Always so patient with you and loving. He knows your boundaries and always checks in on you.

You’ve told him about your family and he listens, knowing that some people just want someone to listen.

He also supported your dreams, heck his whole family did. He was a producer, and a good one at that, so when you told him that your dream was to be a dancer, he was excited for you and did everything he could to help you. This is the most support you’ve gotten from someone in your whole life.

Often times you felt like a burden. You weren’t the most physically affectionate and you needed constant reassurance that you’re not annoying.

One day you were having it particularly rough. You weren’t sure exactly what it was but your depression was really hitting hard.

Your boyfriend had sensed something was wrong when chatting on the phone with you so he came over.

He did his best to cheer you up. On his way there he picked up your favorite boba drink and some food.

You were happy to see him and gave him a tight hug the second he stepped in.

As you ate lunch, he asked you what was up.

“My mom called me…” you said with a sigh.

“Yeah?”

“It just… wasn’t good.”

“I understand.” He said while patting your hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You nodded and continued eating. “How’s the new song going?”

“It’s great. Almost finished!” He replied with a smile. “This is definitely going to be one of my best works.”

“All your work is the best.” You said with a giggle.

“Yeah well, how’s my pretty girl doing? Any auditions lately?”

“Yeah I’m gonna be a back up dance in another music video. I just got the call yesterday.” You said with excitement.

“And you didn’t tell me?” He said in a teasing voice.

“Well I didn’t want to bug you, Channie.”

“You never bug me babygirl.” He replied with a sigh. “Never ever.”

After lunch you both went to the living room to relax. Sometimes you just liked laying with him. He was so warm.

A buzz from your phone, got you distracted from a moment. You looked at the text message and got quiet. It was from your mom.

> Why can’t you just be happy?

You hate when she says that. Always disregards your feelings. You got up and went to your room. Chan was confused and followed after you, just to see you crying on the bed.

“Babygirl, what happened?” He said while sitting next to you.

“Why is she like this?!” You cried. “She can’t just leave me alone!”

Chan looked at the message and hugged you.

“It’s okay, baby—”

“No it’s not!” You blurted out while standing up: “I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!!”

You shook your head, seemingly trying to pull your hair out.

“Okay. Okay.” He said calmly while taking your hands. He was still sitting and had you stand in front of him. “Babygirl, don’t hurt yourself. Look at me…”

You paused and only looked at him with a pout.

Chan wiped your tears and frowned. He hated seeing you like this. He wants to take you away from all this. He wants you to live with him and leave everything behind.

As you continued crying, you sat on his lap and hugged him, crying and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Do you want a new family?”

“What…?” You asked while pulling back.

“A new family. One that loves and supports you.” Chan said while rubbing your cheek. “You know, my parents have always liked you… and my siblings… and extended…”

You teared up. The idea of a family… a non toxic and loving family just taking you in as their own… it was a lot.

“A family that… loves each other… and supports each other….?” You said, more thinking out loud. “N-no bad touching… n-no yelling at me…?”

“No family is perfect but they do love you and will never hurt you like…”

“… like mine…”

He sighed and you instantly hugged him again.

“Yes… yes!” You cried while holding on tight.

“I’ll make that happen, babygirl. Don’t you worry…”

He pulled you back and kissed your forehead before letting you silently cry into his shoulder. He held you as well. The feeling was so warm and secure. You always felt safe with him. You felt so loved when with him. You always wondered if you even deserved that love.

How was this going to work? Well Chan had been planning to propose to you for a while. He’s already been looking at rings. But now he thinks he should speed it up a little. Sooner the better. He wants you to be happy. He knows his family will take you in. They will welcome you with open arms. And he’ll take care of you for the rest of his life…

————————— 🥀 —————————

This is the dream I had where I woke up crying. And my mom did say that to me. Just not thru text. My depression been pretty bad lately…

[ariesmusingz]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა  / HEAD IN THE CLOUDS II PLOTS PT 2 ; plots based off songs on 88rising's head in the clouds ii

walking / muse a wants muse b and badly. they keep asking what it will take for muse b to give them a chance, for what is needed for them to progress a relationship. muse b is hesitant but muse a keeps saying all the right things. every time they talk muse a is spewing words and words of things to muse b to give in and give their relationship a chance. it's a dance of will they won't they. breathe / muse a and muse b are both in a dead end relationship but neither of them can admit that. neither of them want to be the person to cut it off because they have been together for so long that they aren't sure what life is without the other. muse a is asking for clarity on what muse b wants as muse b is always avoiding difficult conversations as they know it will lead to the end of them as as a couple. shouldn't couldn't wouldn't / muse a is begging for muse b to commit to their newfound relationship. they've been dating and hooking up for a while but muse b is reluctant to put a label on anything. muse a doesn't want to be friends and is making it clear that the only thing they want is commitment or nothing at all. muse b is running laps around the conversation when it comes up but it's down for muse a to force an answer out of muse b. muse b constantly calls muse a up for another hook up but muse a wants more than booty calls. just used music again / muse a is in the music industry and muse b is their on and off ex. every time muse b comes running back to muse a, they end up getting their heart broken again which creates another best selling album. it's a joke in their fandom that they almost thank whoever is hurting them for more and more songs but muse a hates the turmoil they are in with muse b. not only is muse a trying to protect themselves but they are also trying to make sure their fans do not find out who muse b is, as they are a normal person with a private life. muse b knows they are wrong but can't stop themselves from going back constantly.

[daytaker]

Tunes with Satan

Satan: MC, I found a song from the human world that resonates with me. MC: Oh, really? Satan: It's about someone struggling to rise above their identity as it was crafted by someone with so-called good intentions, and the alternate emotional turmoil and emotional silence they experience as a result of the expectations placed on them. MC: Wow. I see how that clicked for you. What is it? Satan:

MC: Satan: Well? Doesn't it capture my personal angst with remarkable clarity? MC: *pats him on the shoulder*

But really.

Satan, in the innocence of his not understanding that this song is basically just a meme, reading the lyrics and feeling fully and unironically understood. I just hope no one ever reveals to him that "Numb" by Linkin Park is basically mandatory 14-year-old in the 2000s angst material.

I was just going to make the top part of this post but I checked the lyrics. I'm laughing but damn?

I'm tired of being what you want me to be Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface Don't know what you're expecting of me Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes

Every step that I take is another mistake to you (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)

I've become so numb I can't feel you there Become so tired So much more aware I'm becoming this All I want to do Is be more like me And be less like you

Can't you see that you're smothering me Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control? 'Cause everything that you thought I would be Has fallen apart right in front of you

Every step that I take is another mistake to you (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow) And every second I waste is more than I can take

I need to commission artwork by someone who's better at it than me to draw Satan brooding in his bedroom with 2000s emo band posters on the walls.

[welivetodream]

Dazai X Would've could've, should've (Taylor Swift)

If you would've blinked then I would've

Looked away at the first glance.

If you tasted poison, you could've

Spit me out at the first chance

If I was some paint, did it splatter

On a promising grown man?

And if I was a child, did it matter

If you got to wash your hands?

And if you never saved me from boredom

I could've gone on as I was

But, Lord, you made me feel important

And then you tried to erase us

And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven

And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts

Memories feel like weapons

And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts

Give me back my childhood (girlhood), it was mine first

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time

(ps: NO I am NOT implying any sexual abuse done by Mori to Dazai or anyone else. This is purely about the emotional and mental abuse Dazai went through as a child by being in the Port Mafia under Mori's mentorship. It is clear, him being in the Mafia really messed up his already mentally ill brain. Mori as a doctor should be held responsible for what happened to Dazai and so many other Port Mafia kids, regardless if they worked consensually or not, kids should be protected in all situations from both physical and mental turmoil.

Ofc the original intention of the song by Taylor and what it meant for her and the things she went through is very different, but as a song itself we can interpret certain parts of it in different ways. I do not think the two situations are any similar but it is only an artistic way of looking at these lyrics to convey a difficult subject matter)

[critter-genfic-events]

Doty! Take this down. We have six excellent fics today- all chronically the wondrous adventures of one Taryon Darrington! Check them out under the cut, and of course - comment and kudos if you like them!

Love Letters of Convenience by elissanerdwriter (1103,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Taryon Darrington & Lady Kima of Vord

Kima and Taryon run into each other at a bar. They help each other out.

Reccer says: This is a pairing I would have never expected or thought of but the wlw and mlm solidarity vibes are immaculate. They should hang out!

i'll know my song well by actualflower (1149,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Taryon Darrington & Cassandra de Rolo

A short conversation between Cassandra and Tary

Reccer says: I love outsider pov and the clarity about the world it brings, and this little bit of bonding between these two

Out of Favor by mythomaticallydelicious (5551,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Taryon Darrington/Percival de Rolo

An AU where Taryon fails his persuasion roll against his father.

Reccer says: It's not completed, but it delves into the details of Taryon's relationship with his father and features heart-to-heart conversations with Vax and Percival.

this antique’s rustic eulogy by Princex_N (5213,General) Warnings: Pairings: Taryon Darrington & Doty

He wants Doty. He wants Doty and instead all he has is the gaping empty space at his side where he's supposed to be and the intrusive images of him being pulled to pieces in the nine hells where he is and Tary hates it.

Reccer says: I liked it

Arranged marriages and families of choice by multifandom damnation (1570,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Taryon Darrington & Vox Machina

He learns two things during that meeting with his father, Howaardt falling apart before him and Vox Machina a steady presence against his back; firstly, they're improvised, and secondly, he has always been nothing but a pawn in his father's games.

Reccer says: Amazing look into what it might have been like for Tary to have Vox Machina at his back during the confrontation with his father

And two recs for:

Where We're From and Where We're Bound to Go by CitizenMocha (3318,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Taryon Darrington & Vex'ahlia

In what will likely be a less physically-demanding expedition but still harrowing and fraught with emotional turmoil like all the best adventure stories are, the heroes make their way through bleak countryside framed by the distant snowcapped mountains to confront the father of their beloved and full-fledged member Taryon Darrington, who is… Not doing so hot at the moment, to be perfectly honest.

Reccer #1 says: The friendships between Tary and the rest if Vox Machina is very sweet, even when they are joking around. It's also got some great character introspection for Taryon as he sits down and they talk about this thoughts. Reccer #2 says: Just the right amount of humor (poorly) covering some angst and feelings, and great voices all around

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

October 15th, it'll be time for Alternate Meetings - followed by Beau, One shots, and then Imogen!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit! If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[kefiteria]

Imperfect Love

character: Kaveh x reader

tag: a sprinkle of angst, self doubt, he's in trauma yeah trauma, sprinkle of acceptance + comfort at the end.

🍨 A/N: i can't help it SVT's lyrics are just too immaculate and give me inspiration for more fanfics. it's always been "what if this song + this character" ehehe~

As Kaveh gazes at the majestic Pharos Lighthouse, a symbol of Sumeru's architectural prowess, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He's tasked with renovating and preserving this iconic structure, yet the burden of last year's bankruptcy looms heavily over him. Thoughts of budgets and financial constraints flood his mind, threatening to drown him in anxiety.

The lively stress, intrusive thoughts of his father's death haunt him relentlessly. “What do I do…what would father think if he knew I'm like this…what if?” The relentless barrage of “what ifs” threatens to erode his sanity, each one a painful reminder of his past mistakes and unresolved guilt.

His footsteps echo hollowly, a haunting accompaniment to the cacophony of his tortured thoughts. The vibrant pulse of the luncheon hour mocks his inner turmoil, a cruel juxtaposition to the desolation consuming him from within. “Imperfections are part of artistry.” he whispers bitterly, but for him, they serve as relentless reminders of his inadequacies each flaw a testament to his self-condemnation.

As he quickens his pace, desperation gnaws at his soul and the fear of rejection clawing mercilessly at his heart. Will he ever find solace in the acceptance of his ideals, or will he remain forever shackled to the suffocating expectations of his reputation? The weight of his burdens grows heavier with each step, threatening to crush him beneath the weight of his self-doubt.

Kaveh is but a ghost, haunted by the specters of his past guilt for his father's death, shame over his financial ruin, and the relentless pursuit of an unattainable perfection. His heartbeats reverberate like funeral dirges, each pulse a painful reminder of the tomb his life has become. Will his legacy be nothing more than a tragic tale of unfulfilled dreams and shattered ideals?

With each pounding step, Kaveh's heart leads him back to the familiar comfort of your home. His mind races, consumed by doubt and despair, a desperate longing for solace in the warmth of your presence. As he stands before your door, the weight of his burdens momentarily lifts, replaced by a rush of emotions long suppressed. “Even if she comes to me, who's useless…it'll remain as a deep scent.” he murmurs, his resolve solidifying with each passing moment. With trembling hands, he reaches out, knocking softly on the door.

“There wasn't a single day in which I wasn't sincere to her, yet I'm...” he whispers to himself, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. “I'm not perfect, I'm too flawed…but for today, I want to be greedy.”

As you open the door, a wave of relief washes over him, and he finally allows himself to surrender to the warmth of your smile. “Hi, Kaveh! It's been a while since you came to visit. Let's have some tea, shall we?” you greet him, unaware of the tumult raging within him.

At that moment, as he steps into the familiar embrace of your home, Kaveh experiences a sudden clarity a realization that amidst the chaos of his doubts and fears, it is the simple moments of connection and companionship that offer true solace. “Ah yes, because of her.” he whispers to himself, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “every day, I get greedy again.”

[random-mdzs-thoughts-dumpster]

Jin Guangyao, probably: Song of Clarity implies the existence of darker, sexier Song of Turmoil.

[kylieswift31]

The mirrorball

"I want you to know I'm a mirrorball I can change everything about me to fit in"

Museless

I wanted to make a seperate post to provide a little more clarity on my museless stance, but also to invite others to try it out too.

It is not my intention to sound superior because I don't have a preferred muse, but the truth is that I just never felt invested in a specific muse because I didn't live through it as it unfolded. Instead I've chosen to focus on seeing Taylor as her own muse because at the end of the day, wanting Taylor to be happy is the one thing that we all have in common.

The two Taylors

Throughout Taylor's music videos we see many different variants of Taylor. It's difficult to keep track of all these variations, so I tend to simplify it by talking about the queer version of Taylor and the pop star version of Taylor.

Inner = queer Taylor wearing a mask to hide in plain sight

Outer = pop star Taylor as a facade to protect what lies beneath

These two halves of Taylor both represent her as a whole, but highlight the inner turmoil she's experienced from being closeted throughout her career. In both her music and music videos, Taylor's co-stars typically represent the inner version of herself.

The true man

To understand how Taylor has layered these versions of herself throughout her work we need to refer back to Truman's story. The Truman show starts off with interviews with the cast as we learn about his life. From the director's perspective, Truman Burbank is the most true and real person alive because he was raised on the set of Seahaven under his supervision and guidance. But at the very end Truman reveals that he had been aware that he was living his life in the spotlight and was putting on a show for the audience from the vey beginning.

Every aspect of Truman's life was scripted for him, and his name is no different. If we break it down Truman becomes true man. Burbank is the city where Seahaven was constructed near the Hollywood sign. Truman was the director's manuscript, or the man you script. If we put this all together it becomes 'the man you script is the true man in Hollywood'. Every one around Truman was an actor, but to the directors surprise Truman had been acting too. That means that the true man lies.

So now we have the inner version of Truman who wanted to leave Seahaven, the outer version of Truman that was performing for the audience and the director that was shaping Truman's experience from an outsiders perspective.

The many Taylors

Taylor has told us that she lies too. Just like the director scripted Truman, Taylor has been scripting herself. The anti hero music video is a great place to start to begin understanding the concept of there being multiple versions of Taylor. There's the regular Taylor stuck at home, the pop star Taylor wreaking havoc, the giant Taylor (the elephant in the room 🌈) that crashes the party and the dying Taylor in the casket. The only problem with having this many versions of Taylor is that it's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.

Instead, we can consider that each version of Taylor represents a layer of who Taylor is as a whole. Some versions of Taylor may be exiled or hidden away like a horcrux, but they've been hidden away inside of Taylor.

This concept is akin to a set of nesting dolls.

The red herrings

Every layer acts as both a mask for the inner layers to wear and as a facade concealing the layers within. This concept of a facade is what Taylor is describing in the song 'mirrorball'. She's reflecting back what you're willing to see and the version of Taylor you see therefore depends on how deep you're willing to look. This is because the pop star Taylor is the facade for the regular Taylor and so on. This pattern continues until you reach the giant Taylor. And then from the inside out the regular Taylor is the mask for the giant Taylor and so on. This pattern continues until you reach the pop star Taylor again.

"No one wanted to play with me as a little kid So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since To make them love me and make it seem effortless This this the first time I've felt the need to confess And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care"

However, the secret to seeing the inner Taylor is to understand that the director Taylor exists too. This is integral because the director is scripting or creating the layers to protect the inner Taylor. And no matter which two layers you look at, they're both acting as a mask and facade for the inner and outer layers. All of these versions of Taylor exist because the director Taylor is also the mastermind.

It's evident Taylor is incredibly skilled at creating these layers through the way she has been able to weave multiple muse references into her songs. There's something there for everyone. The general listeners who relate the story to their own lives, the swifties who find connections to Taylor's male muses and the gaylors who find connections to Taylor's female muses. But underneath all that is the complexity of the inner Taylor.

Comparing this concept of layers to the eras tour setlist is intriguing, as they each represent a layer of the mask she has added to over the years. The show starts with the lover house facade, moves into the love story of fearless, goes deeper with the feminine rage in TTPD and ends with the midnights set. Debut being left off the setlist implies that debut Taylor's version is the inner most layer of Taylor's discography. Everything Taylor is working towards is so that she can drop the mask and return home to herself.

The best friend

Being museless is a way to see Taylor as her own muse, but that doesn't mean that she's doing all of this alone. Truman was able to secretly communicate with his best friend Marlon without being detected through the subtle changes in the way they spoke to each other. The same has been happening with Taylor's allies. It's just subtle enough that it would seem like a coincidence to anyone else, but those who can see the deeper layers have been able to pick up on the patterns. The chaos that has been building up will be easier to navigate if you're can see that Taylor's muses, friends and allies are all working together to support Taylor. And that together, they're all working towards creating changes within the industry that will benefit everyone.

"Karma takes all my friends to the summit"

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

P.S. I've lost count of how many times I've written Taylor in this post! haha

P.P.S. Tay liar + swift af boi = Taylor Swift

[bliss-in-the-void]

Ok I studied some music theory in high school right.

And we all know the song that plays during Satoru’s final moments with Suguru is called “This is Pure Love” (which is obvious enough already) but I want to talk about the theory behind the chords that cement this moment even further.

I’m specifically going to be talking about the part of the song that plays during the scene with Satoru and Suguru, which begins around 2:48 in the track.

The song itself is in A minor. Minor keys in general are used to make songs that are sad and full of angst. Chords are usually comprised of three notes that fit within the key.

The home chord of A minor is “ACE”, having A as the root, C as the third, and E as the fifth. A minor has no sharps or flats since its relative major key is C.

Interestingly, this section starts on a C major chord, which is the third chord in the key of A minor. It has a rather happy-sounding start, sort of gentle. I think this reflects Suguru’s feelings towards Satoru, since the second he sees him, he smiles despite himself.

During the moment where Satoru says his last words to Suguru (the ones we have yet to even know what he said), and Suguru smiles at him and tells him to “at least curse him”, another major C chord plays.

In the midst of a minor key song, a swelling (loud & full of instrumentation) major chord is played right during the pivotal moment. It sounds like happiness, like a resolution, like an answered question. When tension is built throughout a song in a minor key, it resolves with a major chord.

This is showing that whatever Satoru said to Suguru was like a final moment of happiness. Like in the middle of all this turmoil, depression, and death, they get to have this one final, sweet moment of clarity and relief. This happens exactly as Suguru’s eyes widen in response to Satoru’s words and smiles.

But that isn’t the last chord played. It’s the second to last chord.

The last chord played is another A minor chord.

This is to show that no, this is not a happy ending, that they’re out of time.

Because having an A minor chord to close off a song in A minor means the song has returned to the home key. There’s nothing left to say. The story is finished.

The song disappears into silence before Satoru ends it. He’s left sad, full of regret, and alone.