#song: don't dream it's over

[gleesongtournament]

[maulfucker]

So fucked up that obimaul is a rarepair. What do you mean not everyone is obsessed with enemies to lovers with a Force connection, where one side is completely obsessed with the other who barely acknowledges him (but is just as affected)

[oneluckydragon]

Literally obsessed with the dynamic the pmd fandom has assigned these three. Unhinged polycule energy.

[ishikawayukis]

obviously they won't say anything about it because they only comment on things that are nonsensical, but even kcarats are mad about this collab so i do wonder if they'll end up saying anything or will just act stupid lmfao

[kindahoping4forever]

x

[ectonurites]

ZACH TAYLOR x MODERN BASEBALL on JOSH TEMPLETON and ALLISON BANNISTER

[ BROKEN CASH MACHINE | ROCK BOTTOM | THE OLD GOSPEL CHOIR | THE WEEKEND | ALPHA KAPPA FALL OF TROY THE MOVIE PART DEUX (2 DISC DIRECTOR'S CUT) | EVERYDAY | HOURS OUTSIDE IN THE SNOW | NOTES | I THINK YOU WERE IN MY PROFILE PICTURE ONCE | HOME | REVENGE OF THE NAMELESS RANGER | INTERSECTION ]

[blackerthings]

this man said "there's nothing sweeter than my baby, i never want once from the cherry tree. cause my baby sweet as can be, she gimme toothaches just from kissing me." "when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her."

[wonho-ssi]

[everydayfrimmel]

July 20, 2024

"The L Word (Love and/or Leaking Roofs and/or Late-Night Cable Television)" 1400 words, roommate au, part 14/15

Frieren isn’t reading as much these days.

Granted, there is still always a book on her nightstand, and it rotates out frequently enough that he knows she’s still going through them, even if at a less alarming rate. But he almost never actually sees her reading, when that used to be all he ever saw her do. Probably because there are other things on her mind when they cross paths these days.

Himmel used to think of himself as a pretty tactile person, someone whose need to give and receive affection was unextraordinary but a little higher than average. He would have categorized Frieren as someone who never thought about it at all. Now, he’s realized that his hunger for touch is more than a little above average, and Frieren—well. 

He almost can’t escape her. 

Take now, for instance: all he’s trying to do is heat up leftovers on the stove, and Frieren can’t even leave him in peace to do that. They aren’t even steaming yet when she knocks her forehead into his upper back to alert him of her presence and then slips her arms around his waist.

It’s sort of the best thing he’s ever felt.

“Hey, clingy,” he says fondly, squeezing her joined hands with his free one. 

Frieren lets out a soft, happy sigh and squeezes. 

“You getting hungry?”

“Mm.” 

“Oh, what am I talking about,” he mutters, “you’re always hungry.” 

She giggles. “Mmhm.”

“Where do you even keep it?” he teases her. “Where in your tiny little self does all of that food even go?” 

“I’m not that short.” 

“You know, whatever makes you feel better-“ 

“You’re just too tall,” she grumbles. She has to rise on the balls of her feet to put her chin on his shoulder, which only corroborates his point. “That’s not my fault.”

“Mmhm. Sure.” 

She makes a huffy noise of disagreement and lets go of him. Pity. 

“Oh, by the way,” he says. “You never did tell me if you were having any of this.” 

“Himmel.” Her head’s already in the fridge, so her voice is a little muffled. “It’s food that I didn’t make.”

He sighs. “Fair point.” 

“But it’s gonna take too long,” she explains, then emerges from the fridge with the plate that contains the remaining of the falling-apart cheesecake they made together last weekend. He watches her take a fork to it with slight concern and a little bit of awe. 

“So you’re pregaming with dessert,” he guesses.

“Mmhm.” 

“You really are somethin’, Frieren, you know that?” 

Cheeks full of cheesecake, she turns and smirks at him. 

“You’re never getting rid of me,” he says. “I hope you’re aware of that.” 

“Mmhm. 

Then he lets her eat her appetizer cheesecake in silence, unassaulted by his feelings, which he feels is quite a gallant thing to do. He’s spent too long shutting up and swallowing his words to want to do it very much now that Frieren is willing to indulge him, but now it seems like the right call. He quietly hums to the music from his speakers and watches the frozen leftovers steam in the skillet so he won’t look at her. 

“Turn that up,” she tells him after a few moments of this. 

“Hm?” 

“Your music.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized she was paying attention to it; probably, he would’ve chosen a different playlist if he had. Something cooler, less middle-aged. Definitely not the soft rock hits of a decade he wasn’t born in.  But she’s asked, so he has no choice but to reply, “of course.”

Frieren has never talked about music before—what she likes, what she doesn’t, if she even cares—so he’s always assumed it doesn’t interest her much. Maybe it doesn’t, but she bobs her head a little to the rhythm as she eats her cheesecake, walks to the fridge in step with it. Sort of like she wants to dance but isn’t sure how.

He’ll have to ask her someday—to dance, that is, maybe in the kitchen like this, maybe when she’s not carrying a now-empty plate of crumbs to the dishwasher. But he’ll have to figure out what she’d like to dance to first. She might not even know, but he’ll get to an answer.

It’s like a game, getting information about Frieren. It is one of the things he loves most about her—that he needs to puzzle her out. 

“Frieren.” 

She nudges him aside to make space for herself at the counter. “Himmel.” 

“You like this song?” 

“Mmhm.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you listen to music.” 

“I don’t, really.”

So she’s not going to end my career for having bad taste, good to know.

“Mm.” He lifts her chin, studies her pouting lips for a moment, then, without really knowing why, he takes off his glasses and sets them gently over her nose. “You’re missing out, you know that?” 

“I don’t care,” she replies. “Why’d you do that?” 

“Dunno, thought you’d look cute, I guess.” 

“Do I?” 

He kisses the tip of her nose. “Very.”

He lets go of her chin; the song changes; Frieren’s cheeks flush a little with pleasure. He loves the way they do that. Himmel turns back to his leftovers, stirs them so they won’t burn while he’s looking at Frieren instead. Her shoulders sway a little, as if she is trying on the music for size, and it feels like a sizeable risk indeed.

“I think I like this one more,” she says.

“Me, too.” 

That’s all she says. He isn’t expecting her to move or speak for a while after that, but when he sneaks a glance at her, she’s peering up at him through her lashes, evaluating something. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling back.

She tilts her head curiously. He’s learned not to ask what Frieren’s thinking faces mean. 

“Hi,” she replies, slowly, as if unsure that this is the right thing to say.

“What?”

And it takes a while to arrive there, but it happens quickly. 

Frieren pushes herself up onto her toes with more speed than balance, pulls him down to meet her, and ever-so-briefly brushes her lips against his.

Himmel makes a terribly undignified noise and she stumbles back, not yet having regained either her balance or her composure. He puts his fingers to his lips, briefly, and they part a little in disbelief, because he half-believes he’s seeing things, because he’s stunned she had it in her to do it first, and then. 

And then he comes to his senses, and remembers what the proper response is if the woman of one’s dreams gives one an unexpected kiss, and returns it with one that is a little longer and a little more careful but no less a surprise.

And—it thrills Himmel as much as it takes him by surprise—Frieren is an excellent kisser.

Not because she really knows how; of course she doesn’t—but because she’s a quick learner and unashamed, and because she has trained herself to keep doing anything that seems to be working until it is no longer necessary. She kisses, in an endearing way, as if for a grade, and it charms him, warms him to the bone that she cares so much if he’s happy with her efforts.  

Top marks, he decides. The very top. 

“Hi, pretty,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers, thumbs caressing both of her cheeks. 

“Hi.” 

He laughs, nudges one last brief, aching kiss against her lips before he makes himself stop. “Been waiting a long time to do that.”

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“Dunno,” he laughs. “Glad I waited, though.” 

“Mm.” 

“And I’m not gonna lie,” he says, because he thinks he deserves a break from being gallantly romantic every once in a while, “it’s kinda hot when you make the first move.” 

“Is it, now.” 

She looks like she’s really considering that, which usually means she’s going to have an itemized list of ways to do just that within a couple of hours. Frieren in love is no different than Frieren the engineer: a tactician, an analyst, and a student of what’s worked before and what hasn’t. It never fails to delight him to see how her brain makes sense of him. 

“So hot.” 

She giggles. “Noted.”

The food is going to burn. Himmel can’t keep himself from one last fleeting kiss. 

And, after: “Please do.” 

[nedlittle]

[crawls out of oklahoma! west end bootleg shaking and covered in blood]

edit: hi everyone i saw the bootleg bc a friend who purchased it was kind enough to stream over discord. i can send you the google form if you would also like to pay a couple bucks for your insides to be vapourized but i cannot actually link the bootleg

[gleesongtournament]

[shardminds]

still alive i promise!!! wip wednesday time :)

Lucien pushed the sheet of her hair behind her ear but Feyre couldn’t look at him, couldn’t lift her eyes from the milky skin where her tattoo should be, couldn’t help but tense against the urge to curl her palms to fists. “Despite the performance with Hyburn, you’re still mated, aren’t you."

Not a question.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.

Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?

And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.

What do you think about it?

no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.

because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)

and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?

river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)

they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.

mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.

they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.

all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.

mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'

god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.

[suffercerebral]

i wonder if my ex best friend remembers my birthday every year the way i remember hers

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i have only been listening to russ's last 3 albums for like a week or two now and i can't stop

[chirpsythismorning]

☎️🎲 🤼‍♂️ ✈️🚪 ➡️ 🫀🎮⌛️

Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded House

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