#soundtrack of (never)forgotten summers

[ippokampos]

Photographer William Eggleston

[writing-fanics]

When somebody loved me

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

When somebody loved me

Everything was beautiful

You smiled as you flew through the skies with Lucifer, holding hands. Giggling and laughing, and you two flew through the skies. You loved spending time together soaring through the heavens together, dancing in the skies without a care in the world.

Every hour we spent together

Lives within my heart

And when he was sad

I was there to dry his tears

You wiped away his tears and smiled at him, hopefully as he sniffled. He placed his hand over yours and leaned into your touch. He looked at you and smiled, he was lucky to have you by his side.

And when he was happy, so was I

You giggled, as he showed you his magic and his wondrous ideas your eyes lighting up in wonder. You wanted nothing more than his dreams to become a reality.

For you to be by his side to help him achieve his dreams. Because you loved him more than anything. He sat down beside you and placed your head on his shoulder, your hand over his closing your eyes as he gently rubbed the back for your hand.

When he loved me

Through the summer and the fall

You giggled as you jumped into a pile of leaves, like a little kid. Leaves falling around you as you jumped in the giant pile of leaves. Lucifer watched you with a smile, you were always so carefree and filled with joy.

We had each other, that was all

Just he and I together

He kissed you on the lips as the leaves fell around you. You giggled, as you kissed him back wrapping your arms around his neck.

Like it was meant to be

And when he was lonely

I was there to comfort him

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. As you comforted him running your fingers through his hair as you listened to him talk. He loved that about you how you’d listen to him. He was lucky to have you as a partner and he loved you for that.

And I knew that

He loved me

So the years went by

Lucifer seemed to start going to the garden of Eden, a lot more often you thought it was for the new creation that the angels were working on. You didn’t know but he seemed to drift away further and further, while you stayed there on that hill waiting for him after finishing work.

When he would come back he’d be tired, and barely wanna spend time with you leaving you feeling understandable yet sad.

I stayed the same

But he began to drift away

You sat there alone on the hill sadly, Lucifer was becoming busier and busier. Slowly drifting further and further away, spending less and less time with you.

Before you could even speak he swiftly left you there standing alone, your hands falling to your side.

I was left alone

Still, I waited for the day

When he'd say, "I will always love you"

Lonely and forgotten

It was your anniversary and he still hadn’t returned, you missed him. Yet you were hopeful waiting for him everyday as he spent time in the garden, doing who knows what.

Never thought he'd look my way

And he smiled at me and held me

You say there alone hoping that he'd come back to you, and you'd feel his arms around you. But he was busy doing whatever he was doing. You missed him, and as you played with the ring around your finger. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

You smiled as he hugged you and you closed your eyes, smiling at the familiar warmth. That you so greatly missed, you nuzzled your head into the crook of your neck. You didn’t want to let go thinking that he’d leave you again. You didn't know this hug was a hug goodbye.

Just like he used to do

Like he loved me

When he loved me

You stared at him with a blank stare, as he was beginning judge for his actions. His crimes against Heaven, for bringing evil into the world. Because of him wanting to give free will to humans.

When somebody loved me

Everything was beautiful

As you stood there, your mind in a complete state of shock, you found yourself unable to process everything that was happening around you.

The words he spoke seemed to echo in your ears, but they didn't quite register in your mind. All you could do was stare at him, your heart aching with the realization that he no longer loved you in the same way that he used to.

Every hour we spent together

Lives within my heart

The memories of the past flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but wish that you could go back in time and relive those beautiful moments when his love for you was pure and unadulterated.

Despite the pain, your heart continued to beat for him, and you knew deep down that you would always love him, no matter what.

As the weight of everything you were experiencing became too heavy to bear, your eyes began to fill with tears and a lump formed in your throat as you tried to swallow.

You found yourself sitting alone on top of a hill, your knees pulled up to your chest as you sobbed uncontrollably.

The tears streamed down your face, leaving behind a trail of sadness and despair. You looked around, but there was no one to comfort you, no one to dry your tears, and no one to share your pain. The world seemed bleak and hopeless, and you felt lost and alone, drowning in your emotions.

When he loved me

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

And It’s Like the Sky is New

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Warnings: None

Summary: “All at once, everything looks different.”

A/N: Just needed to get something out. I feel like I’m falling behind and letting people down. Dedicated to @shadowcitrine who always lets me know when I’m doing too much. 🩵

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Doin’ too much.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Daryl in the doorway, fingers busy fiddling with the tip of a bolt. You were so tired that you hadn’t even heard him come inside. “No. No, I’m not doing enough.” You disputed quietly, blowing your hair out of your face before turning back to your project, pulling the thread taut and pushing the needle through again. The prison community had grown tenfold and the kids outgrew clothes so fast. Hand-me-downs were necessary. The least you could do is hand them down with less holes.

“Not what I mean.” You heard him push himself off the frame and then his boots as he approached. His knees protested the descent to the concrete floor, but if it bothered him, he never said. “Not all this.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hand that gestured toward the projects you had scattered about: sewing, medical journals, dirty laundry for washing, and the list went on. “If you’ve got a point, Daryl, make it.” You didn’t snap at him. You were too weary for the energy that would require.

His expression remained neutral. “Doin’ plenty out here.” When he leaned in, you nearly reeled, but found you neither had the energy nor the true desire. His hand raised, his index finger tapping the middle of your forehead. “Doin’ too much in here.”

Your eyes followed his hand as he retracted it, letting it drop onto his thigh. He was right, of course. You had been thinking of everyone else for so long that you had forgotten what it even felt like to think of yourself. “Oh? What do you suggest?” You finally replied, placing the sewing on top of the pile.

One side of Daryl’s mouth lifted. “C’mon with me.”

The weather was cool, summer shifting into fall with all of its quiet and colors. The night air felt refreshing on your skin, having been cooped up for days with your projects. Your mind needed to be constantly occupied, lest you fall into the what ifs that consistently hung in the air. You’d be consumed by them, forgetting that you could be more than alive but actually still live.

The night sky was clear, stars twinkling. An entire universe was beyond the hell on earth and you couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere out there, there were other people; another planet where lives were happily moving forward. It was odd to feel jealousy toward something that may not even exist.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” You answered a little too quickly, rolling your head toward the sound of Daryl’s voice. His gaze remained on the sky.

He inhaled deeply, folding his arms behind his head. “Where’d ya go?”

“Nowhere bad.” The stars acted as sparkling magnets and pulled your eyes back toward the sky. “Mostly.” A hum resonated beside you, so deep that you could almost feel it in your own chest. “Do you ever wonder what else is out there?” Your hand came up in a lazy gesture toward the incomplete darkness with its pinpricks of celestial light.

“Nah.” He answered immediately. It was almost insulting how little care he gave the reply. “Ain’t no need when there’s still so much—good right here.”

You laughed at this, turning your head to meet his indignant glare. “What’s so good about here? There’s the threat of—of death around every corner.” Daryl’s expression never wavered, his eyes searching your face. “What’s so good, Daryl?”

His eyes narrowed before he blinked and looked upward. “Them stars. They’re good.” You choked down another laugh. “Nights like this’un. They’re good.” He continued. “Family. That’s good.” Then there was silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable; simply unexpected.

“I guess you’re—”

“You.” His head lolled back toward you. “You’re a good thing.” You only managed the first chuckle of a laugh before realizing there was not even a single hint of humor in the way he gazed at you. The expression may have appeared stoic to anyone else but you—you could see the fondness just below the surface, the sincerity, the truth. Your heart leapt into a somersault when you felt his finger graze the side of your hand.

“You, uh—” You swallowed hard, bearing witness to the moonlight catching in his eyes, making them almost silver under its influence. “You’re a good thing too.” Daryl stared at you a little longer before returning his attention to the sky, simultaneously lacing his fingers through yours. You, however, couldn’t seem to look away.

You’re not a good thing, Daryl. You’re the best thing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?��� You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[alphabetboyluvr]

dance with the devil | jjk

REQUEST | jktaee3 on wp

VIBES | angst, royalty - bridgerton vibes, childhood friends to enemies to ?luvrs?

SOUNDTRACK | die for you - joji

HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) so fun facts, i've never watched bridgerton. i actually put it on in the background as i was writing, which is where the lil line about being diamond comes from. i also do fuck all world-building in this, so just... use your imagination lol. i have no idea if this is like... correct? i dont read nor write period pieces and haven't done since school so.... go easy on me hahaha <33

also!! went for jeongguk instead of jungkook. feels more dramatic? time appropriate?? idk! mix of eng and Korean inspo for titles / locations!!

WORD COUNT | 2.5k

There are easily a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk into the ballroom. Maybe more. The room is grand, gilded in gold—grotesque in its display of wealth, but nothing new to you. You've been in a dozen rooms like this within the last month alone. More money than taste—but you can't buy class.

Despite the influx of unwelcome stares, there's just one you can actually feel. It comes from a pair of deep brown eyes in the corner of the room; a glass of red in one hand, the gloved fingers of your least favourite cousin in the other.

Dark and brooding, Jeon Jeongguk has no right to look at you in the way that he does. Duke of Busan, womaniser of more counties than you care to imagine, he's troubled wrapped up in a waistcoat and ruby-encrusted signet rings.

But you've always liked trouble. Shame.

The grip that Lord Min of Daegu has on your hand tightens. He can notice it too; Jeongguk's stare. Your satin gloves are silky against Lord Min's skin, and he must admit he enjoys being the focus of Jeon Jeongguk's envy. He thinks it's about time that the over-egotistical tyrant of hearts had his comeuppance.

"Remember," Lord Min whispers quietly to you as the crowd watches on. He's a trusted confidant; not suited for marriage. At least not with you. It's the county's worst-kept secret that he retires to the boudoir with Master Park each and every evening. No one at the ball is under any illusion that he is a suitor of yours. "You're a diamond in a mine of sapphires."

"Oh, but sapphires are far prettier than diamonds," you pout, voice dulcet as you scan the room. It's approaching your birthday, and time is running out. A suitor needs to be found, and found promptly. Too much time squandered on frivolous pursuits during your youth had prevented such a search.

It's something you're reminded of whenever your eyes catch Jeongguk's. Endless days spent under beating midsummer sunshine; burnt skin and freckled cheeks. Youth well-spent. Youth wasted.

"So? It matters not." Lord Min smiles. "Diamonds are far stronger. Sharper. And still just as exquisite as sapphires. Do not sell yourself short."

And by that, you know exactly what he implies: steer clear of the Duke of Busan.

It would be a fruitless endeavour. No good would come from it.

Years of your childhood had been spent in a whimsical land with him, full of castles and fairies, and witches and warlocks. Potions had been made in his garden using his mother's best perfumes and items stolen from the pantry; make-believe scenarios came to life in the forest between your family's estates.

Summers had been frittered away together by the sea; Winterton Manor the backdrop of your dreams, your hopes, your fears.

But the Duke did as Dukes so often do; embroiled himself in debauchery and distasteful pleasures.

You had watched on, bemused for the most part, and also intrigued by what compelled him.

Had you not been enough?

Grapevines whisper, and Jeongguk had spent far too much time frolicking in vineyards. Drunk on the delights of his youth, he'd forgotten that there would be life beyond the present.

It's a price he pays, now. A debt he hadn't realised he had racked up.

One that he's reminded of every single time you glance his way. He cannot afford a diamond.

Somehow, however, he can seem to afford the audacity of approaching you in the powder room towards the end of the evening.

You've had lacklustre dances with half a dozen bachelors, and they've all been uninspiring. Only two of them managed to make it through the waltz without stepping on your toes.

Time is running out.

And Jeongguk?

He's running in circles trying to get you out of his head.

Seems apt that he'd bump into you at some point.

Not like he sought you out. Not at all.

Not like he handed the maids by the staircase a few silver coins to divert other partygoers elsewhere, either. He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.

The Duke of Busan knows you well.

Knows that it takes all of your might to not glance in his direction as he makes his presence known.

"Really?" He asks with a cocked brow and arrogant smirk, leaning against the doorframe. You're preening at your hair. Making sure your pins remain in place. "That's what you chose to wear? To a ball of this grandeur?"

You're wearing white. It's tight against your chest. Too tight. Pleated beneath the satin ribbon under your bust, encrusted with sequins and finished with lace. It's beautiful. Matches the white satin gloves that finish just above the crease of your elbow. You carry yourself with elegance.

In fact, your posture is so well-poised that Jeongguk is the only attendee of the ball who has noticed the split in your skirt. When stood, it is hidden by the pleats. When dancing, it is camouflaged by the lace. When you lift your skirt to meander up the stairs? He becomes reacquainted with the curve of your ankle. The split is no larger than the length of a letter inviting him to tea, but it feels overwhelmingly large.

As far as the Duke is concerned, you may as well be wearing lingerie.

You smooth the skirt of your dress and consider rearranging your tits just to give him something to stare at. You decide against it. Think he would enjoy it far too much.

"Oh precisely," you respond with an equally arrogant grin, before turning to face him. You're haughty in the way you position your body, almost as if you're trying to entice him. "Haven't you heard? I've a suitor to find."

He scoffs. "And you think dressing like a whore is going to find you one of any value?"

A whore.

Very rich of him, you think, as if the entire party doesn't know what he gets up to in the dark. And the daylight. And just about any time of the day, actually.

What they really don't know?

That he used to get up to it with you.

"Absolutely not," you smile. Your father might want you married off, but there's no suitor here for you. Not tonight. If you have to bring a man home, it unquestionably has to be one that your father won't approve of. "That's the point—although, now I come to think of it—this dress did seem to find you, didn't it, Jeongguk?"

He stays quiet for a moment. He doesn't enjoy you being correct. It's part of the reason you bicker so much. You're always correct.

"White really isn't your colour," he tells you with an ambivalent shrug. "We both know that."

Innocence. Purity. Virginity.

For once, The Duke is correct. It really isn't your colour.

Humorous, how he's dressed head to toe in black. Perhaps you should be, too.

"And green isn't yours," you tease, walking towards him. "Yet you seemed to be full of it when I entered the ballroom with the Lord of Daegu."

He remains silent. Can sense you have more to declare.

"Moreover," you hum, proving him right as you pause beside him, "as I'm sure you're well aware, Duke, it's the colour beneath the dress that counts."

"And what is beneath the dress?" Jeongguk husks, not looking over towards you. He doesn't want to let you know how much you affect him, still.

"The same lace that greeted you last summer in the stables of Winterton Manor."

Red. Fuck.

His favourite.

"Tell me, Duke," you tease. He deserves it, you think. "Does the Viscount of Gwangju like red?"

"Hoseok?" Jeongguk scoffs, addressing him by name, not title. The lack of respect shown by the young Duke is asinine, truly. A show of his immaturity. "Despises it."

Truthfully, he has no idea of Viscount of Gwangju's preferences.

"Good," you taunt. "I'm enthralled by the prospect of a challenge."

Jeongguk will be damned if you end up betrothed to the Viscount of fucking Gwangju.

"He concedes easily," he says. This is another lie. He just doesn't want to give you any further ideas. "Do not expect a challenge. Anticipate disappointment."

"Oh, but Duke," you laugh and it's so exquisite that he thinks he might just melt. "Disappointment has always been your forte, has it not?"

During the balls of recent years, where Jeongguk would only ever offer his hand to other women, and never you? Yes. Disappointing.

In the smoky parlours, where he laughs and jokes with the other gentlemen, about which debutantes are simply destined to become spinsters? Oh, incredibly disappointing.

In the drawing room adjacent to his bedroom, while you had waited beneath his sheets for his return, as he was agreeing to court your cousin instead of you? Perhaps the most disappointing he'd ever been.

It's been a year—the worst of your life.

"You've made your bed, Duke. Sleep in it."

"I've tried," he says sternly. He doesn't want to joke any more. Doesn't want to flirt. "I cannot bear to sleep in it without you."

You shake your head. Such a devil.

"You seem well rested enough."

"It's a facade."

And you find yourself quite annoyed; frustrated by his apparent disdain for a life he chose. A destiny brought upon you both by his inability to be discreet—though you're unaware of this caveat.

You see, everyone does know of his reputation, but he always kept your pursuits of passion hidden. Private. To the world, you're pristine.

"What do you require, Duke? My pity?"

He knows he doesn't deserve it.

"I require nothing of you."

"Then seek me out no longer. Do not pursue what you cannot commandeer, Jeongguk."

It's a lesson he would have done well to learn many moons ago; one remembered by you even if it was lost on him.

And yet, at quarter past twelve, as he loosens the black satin bow of his collar in his bedroom, Jeongguk pauses.

A knock has just sounded at his door. His chambermaid, he assumes, just checking on the fire—or maybe Master Park's chambermaid, instead (though Jeongguk's business with Master Park's staff isn't ever entirely 'business').

Regretfully, he thinks it could be Lord Kim Namjoon of Ilsan, here to reprimand him for his manners. His mentor in all fashions, Namjoon is always the first to discipline the young Duke following his nights of debauchery—though all things considered, he feels he's been quite well-behaved tonight.

He sighs as he rests a palm flat against his bedpost, and bellows, "Enter."

A sternness settles on his brows, hard and uncompromising, as he turns to the door. There's a dishevelled nature to his hair, undone and falling slightly over his dark eyes. His loosened collar and unbuttoned waistcoat only aid to make him look even more rugged.

He's marred in vulnerability, though. His pretty pink lips rest ajar, as his eyes fall on the intruder of his thoughts.

Amusing, you think, how the bedroom is where he domineers best, and yet is always where he seems the most unfortified.

Perhaps he hadn't been lying about his facade.

Perhaps he really doesn't sleep well without you.

Perhaps—just perhaps—you might indulge him one last time.

"Tell me, Duke"— You walk into his room and close the door behind you, eyes not leaving his —"Do any of them compare?"

He watches you strut past him and crawl on the luxe quilt on his bed. Oh, how you've missed it.

"Any of who?"

"The maids," you shrug. You aren't naive. You know exactly what he does, and who he does it with. "Master Park's maids? Surely Lord Kim's, too. And the working girls. The debutantes—need I go on?"

"No," he says, watching as you loosen your heels and kick them to the floor. They land with a thud. He knows the noise will have echoed throughout the house. "You needn't."

The truth of the matter is that his escapades are well-known amongst high society. He has a reputation, which is why his courtship with your cousin was forced upon him.

You're surely too good for him, but he's of too much value to remain without an heir.

A marriage is needed for him before the end of the year. His father says so.

Contrarily, your father would never agree to the Duke of Busan proclaiming you as his Dutchess.

Jeongguk knows this, for he's already asked.

Of course he has.

Last spring. Kept his mother's ring in his pocket just in case. A proposal was planned for early summer, before your trip to Paris.

He thought perhaps he would go with you—a pre-honeymoon, maybe—but your father had refused his request for your hand, and who was Jeongguk to go against the will of the man who had raised you?

Jeongguk won't burden you with this knowledge. Your life will be far more fruitful if you remain silently furious with him for never giving you what you deserved.

"And do they?" You enquire once more. unaware of his anguish. "Do they compare?"

Jeongguk leans down to his boots. Unties his laces and stands on his heels to remove them. He kicks them away. Is just as undressed as you are. Equal.

"Do you think my bed would be empty right now if they did?"

"It isn't empty," you tease.

"No," he acknowledges. "But it has been. It's been empty for months."

"Months?"

You don't believe him.

"I've had an empty bed since I returned from Winterton last summer," he declares.

"Though your hands have been full?" You sneer, painfully reminded of the way he'd held the hand of another woman in the ballroom that evening. You've had to bear witness to it on multiple occasions by now. It never gets any easier. Your fucking cousin, of all people.

"Pay no mind to the fact my hands have not been empty in ballrooms," he speaks quietly, shame washing over his features. Yes, it would be far more desirable if you were to be furious with him, but he wants to alleviate the hurt that you are quite clearly encumbered with. "As I said, it's a facade."

"Why? What are you hiding, Duke?"

As if you don't know—he laments—that I'm utterly besotted with you.

He glances away from you to watch the fire as it crackles in his hearth. He wonders if it would be less painful to tear his heart from his chest and roast it in the flames, than it is to be in love with you.

"I hide nothing from you," he says with a broad smile as he turns to face you once more. Jeongguk is adept at falsifying his discretions. "But I am without at a dance."

You grin, now. "A dance?"

"I'd love one," he smirks as he holds out his hand. He twists your words almost as elegantly as he used to twist you around on empty ballroom floors; just two of you after the parties had died down and the revellers had hung up their dancing shoes.

He strides to the side of the bed. Satisfaction sinks into his features when your gloved hand slips into his palm. He pulls you up. Pulls you closer. Rests a hand upon your waist and positions himself perfectly for you. He was raised a gentleman after all, even if grew up to be a rogue.

"May I have this dance?" He says quietly, only needing to whisper.

You're so close you probably count the beat of his heart.

One, two.

Does anyone dance better than I do?

Three, four.

Do you lose your breath when someone else draws you closer?

Five, six.

I could dance with you forever.

Seven, eight.

Would that be agreeable?

Nine, ten.

As if you can read his thoughts, you just nod.

"You may."

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter One

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 4690 Rating: General Summary: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend. Content Warnings: None! Author's Note: Hope you liked the start! My love of mass transit systems bleeds through, I think. But I hope I captured how wonderful being part of a fandom and forming online friendships can feel! Thanks to @suresnips for being my beta!

1. Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader's POV]

Spending your mid-twenties obsessing over a fictional character with fellow fans online was not exactly how you envisioned your life unfolding, but it seemed that the universe had other plans in store for you. You couldn’t be too disappointed with this outcome though, as the comforting familiarity of your favourite show and the community surrounding it was like a tight, warm embrace that had seen you through your toughest days. Just like today, when you would lean on The Mandalorian as a crutch yet again, as settling in to watch an episode would be the comfort you needed at the end of yet another miserable day.

It had been a draining day that seemed like it would never end. You seemed to be having an awful lot of them recently, where any little thing that could possibly have gone wrong had gone wrong. Work was busier than usual, with plenty of colleagues pestering you with questions and asking for assistance on tasks, when you had quite enough of your own work to occupy yourself with. Perhaps worst of all, you had forgotten to charge your headphones. Your heart sank as you went to turn them on just before you left work, only to find that there was no charge left. It was a major inconvenience as it meant that the soundtrack of your favourite show was not there to transport you to a different galaxy as you began your journey home. Instead, all you could hear was the relentless noise of the city. The cars and the people that never seemed to shut up for even one single second.

Your feet thundered against the pavement, the rhythmic thuds helping to ground you despite the loss of comfort that your precious headphones provided. Things were finally starting to look up. Well, they were, until you felt a spot of water against your left cheek. You sighed and looked up towards the sky, noticing the grey clouds that had suddenly rolled in from nowhere, and the eerily cold breeze that was suddenly swirling all around you. Rain was imminent. 

To add insult to injury and make your already torrid day even worse, the heavens promptly opened. And you had not worn a coat, nor brought an umbrella in the trusty backpack you carried everywhere. Even though the sky was a little grey, it had been a perfectly pleasant, warm morning when you stepped out of your building that morning. 

You muttered curses under your breath as the rain began ferociously pelting you, furious at your unpreparedness. You quickened your place, hurrying to the closest station to the museum you worked at as you continued to curse the weather with a variety of colourful language, but it had predictably done nothing to halt the relentless downpour. Even though summer should be approaching, the weather was awful. For what felt like weeks now, the weather had nothing but cloudy, cold and grey. It was beginning to grind you down. You just wanted to finally see some sun so you could enjoy the warmer months. Winter felt like it had never really ended. 

Mercifully, you eventually made it into the station, after ducking and weaving through the dithering tourists that lingered outside the prestigious institution in which you worked. You shook your head, hoping some of the water that had drenched your face and hair would at least fly off and prevent you from sitting on a crowded tube while soaked to the bone. You brought your arms around you, suddenly aware of how unpleasantly cold you felt after getting so wet in the rain.

But fortunately, as you descended deep beneath the city to the platform, the temperature rose. The tunnels, far below the city, had been built long ago; with their poor ventilation, they retained all the heat generated by the crowds. Sometimes it could be stuffy and feel as though there was no air, but today you were weirdly appreciative of the quirks of the tube.

Your momentary appreciation for the mass transportation system soon disappeared though, when you finally emerged onto the platform. There was a seemingly endless sea of bodies, crowding into every available space. You took a deep breath and squeezed between them, taking advantage of several confused tourists to position yourself just behind the yellow line in a spot that you knew would be in a prime location for the doors when the tube finally pulled up.

You tapped your foot impatiently as you stood on a crowded platform waiting for the tube to finally arrive, surrounded by the terrible din of an unappealing combination of annoyingly loud tourists and stressed-out commuters. To top off your miserable day, the line you needed to take to get home was suffering from delays, a fact the irritating trill voice of the announcer kept reminding you. They were sorry if it caused you inconvenience – of course it did! The empty apologies did nothing to quell the pounding in your head.

You were sick of crowds and noise, you had endured more than enough of it for one day. Work had been so busy that at one point, you felt as though your head was going to explode from all the tedium. The gradual buzzing in your head that you felt when you were annoyed had quietly begun in the early morning and had just gotten louder and louder throughout the day. You were exhausted. 

The rumble of the train finally hurtling through the tunnel towards you was for a moment, you were convinced, the greatest noise you had ever heard. You took a few deep breaths in preparation before it finally pulled up, now was time to fight your way through the sea of limbs and bodies to cram yourself inside the sweatbox on tracks that would take you to the comfort of your own home. To Mando. The man who helped pick you up whenever you were feeling down, without ever being able to know the impact he was having on your life.

It was the thought of how your heart would leap when you started the next episode in your rewatch and first saw his shiny form sauntering across your screen that seemed to carry you through the crowds you usually detested without draining too much of your dwindling energy reserves. You still winced, though, as you clambered aboard the sweltering carriage that was already likely too full to accommodate any more passengers. You knew there was no getting around it. This was just the reality of living in a major city like London. It was you who had been so determined to move here, after all. Eventually, after a lot of shuffling, you found yourself face-to-face with the dark brown musty jacket that belonged to a man who seemingly had not been acquainted with the wonders of deodorant. 

You fixed your gaze on the ceiling above you and tried to imagine yourself anywhere but here. You pictured Mando scything through a group of bad guys and imagined you were as strong as him. You reminded yourself over and over that this would not last long; there were only a couple of stops to a major train station, meaning the crowd would thin and you would hopefully get some more peace far away from the man’s musty jacket. You just about held it together for the next few stops, wishing you were already at home. You visualised the euphoria of finally walking through the door to your apartment, ready to change into comfortable clothes and settle down to watch your favourite show. Unfortunately, your illusion was constantly shattered by the crowds in the carriage with you.

Finally, though, you arrived at the stop where most crowds would depart and with the worst of the crowds having departed the tube, you were able to find a seat facing the window. Although there wasn’t much to see in the tunnels, you knew with every rattle that you were closer to home. You briefly considered the possibility that if your fellow travellers knew that sometimes, the only thing that got you through the day was knowing that you could come home and watch an episode of The Mandalorian, they would dismiss you as a pathetic loser. But you supposed that people coped in other ways, with harmful and destructive habits that caused pain to other people. You were not harming anyone with your passion and love for The Mandalorian, even if you knew it was not the most socially acceptable hobby for a grown woman.

Despite how sad your routine would probably sound to most people, the bond between you and The Mandalorian was stronger than any disparaging remarks that could come your way. Indeed, there were very few people in your life who truly understood the love you had for that show. Oh sure, there were casuals you had encountered, like your friend and colleague Tom, who was also a viewer of The Mandalorian – at least you had someone to occasionally discuss the latest episodes with. 

But your chats with your workmate were nothing deeper than how many people Mando had taken out in the latest episode and whether one day he could be seen on the same level as Vader in terms of iconic Star Wars characters. It was all very surface level and you felt reasonably sure, despite your closeness, that Tom would be at best bemused by your online activity and contemplate involving some kind of local authority at worst. Better that some things were kept secret.

Fortunately, you had a community of people online who unquestionably got it. You had them to talk to about the show that had become such a big part of your life. The Mandalorian had come to you at a difficult time in your life, a time when you most needed it. Recent years had not been kind to you, as they hadn’t been for most people. With global pandemics and both man-made and natural catastrophes, there were plenty of horrors awaiting you at life’s every turn. But you were so grateful that you had the show you loved so much and the people you had found because of it to help see you through. 

It had seemed that you were destined to find it at the exact moment when you did. At one of your lowest points, Mando had been there, with his deep voice and confident swagger to soothe you on your darkest days. To lose yourself for a few precious moments at the end of each difficult day and just watch the character that you loved so much flying around space, fighting bad guys and leaving each place better than he found it was deeply engrossing and comforting to you.

It didn’t matter to you that you did not have the faintest idea about what the man behind the helmet looked like. To you, The Mandalorian was the perfect sci-fi character. You had grown up loving the galaxy far far away and all things Star Wars, always keeping up with the latest releases and discussing them with your family and friends, but you would never have considered yourself a superfan who knew everything about it. It was not until you had started watching the show about the lone bounty hunter that a switch in your brain was flipped and you became completely, hopelessly obsessed with it. The musical score captured the mood perfectly and complimented the stunning visuals, the wide shots of landscapes as your favourite character travelled across whatever planet he found himself on that week, flying through the galaxy in his beloved Razor Crest. Every time you listened to music from the show – you were rarely seen without headphones, they were seemingly glued to your head – it was as though you could imagine yourself pacing through the galaxy alongside Mando. It was a way to get inside his head, imagine his emotions and how he carried himself.

You had been a little late to the party, only watching the first season after it had already aired in its entirety. But you had more than made up for lost time, completely immersing yourself in the world. You were pretty sure you had read absolutely everything about him and memorised the scant details that you knew about his life. Part of the allure of the show was how mysterious the character was himself. No one had ever seen his face nor did anyone know his real name, he was simply known as Mando. His need for secrecy was necessitated by the ancient Creed he belonged to, that followed a strict way of rules. Mando would never bend or break them for anyone, no matter how much fans fantasised about being the one to finally pull the lone gunslinger out of his shell and break through the harsh emotional walls he had put up for himself. 

After you had finished watching the first season, you joined the online fandom and quickly met a group of like-minded fans who were just as obsessed with all things Mandalorian as you were. You had found your tribe; you found solace in your online friends. They all shared the same passion for the show in a way that none of your friends in real life understood. The first person you had ever really spoken to had grown to be your closest friend Ria. You still remembered how nervous you were about speaking to her. She was a popular author who wrote many of the most well-received fanfics about Mando that appeared online after the first season had aired. But after you had nervously left your username on social media in her comment section, you found that she was just as lovely and welcoming as you had hoped when you began talking to her. After all, you were both, by definition, nerds who most people would see as losers for being so obsessed with one character. There was no need for hierarchy or competition here. 

After meeting Ria, she introduced you to some of her friends and you had all joined a group chat where you seemed to message each other constantly. On the train on the way to work, at lunch, last thing at night… there was always someone there to chat with about Mando. It helped that you were spread out across so many different times, all the way from Australia to Argentina and many places in between. The anticipation you had all felt for season two had reached a fever pitch before it was aired and, thankfully, it had lived up to all expectations. Speculating about what was to come in each episode with your online friends had been incredibly exciting. Not knowing what was coming next, who Mando would have to find or where he had to travel had been thrilling. After you had seen the first season, there had not been long to wait for the second season, which was released within a year. But now, there had been no new episodes for a few months as they worked on the next season. The wait was agonising, but your friends were helping you through.

Every single one of you in this group chat had undergone, at various stages, an identical process where you became completely enamoured by this same character, finding yourselves thoroughly charmed by his swagger and mystery. Each one of you, despite the distance that separated you, had found yourselves falling down the rabbit hole and becoming completely obsessed with the lone bounty hunter from a secretive warrior society, bound to never reveal his name or face to a single soul. 

The casting had been perfect… because just like the character on the show: in real life, you had absolutely no idea who the actor behind The Mandalorian was. Not a single one of you had any idea who portrayed Mando. His identity had been kept a complete secret – with the most watertight NDAs in history, you suspected – which was a highly unusual move in Hollywood. You were sure whoever he was must have a good reason for it. After the popularity of the first season and the viral phenomenon it had become, you couldn’t help but suspect that the man who played Mando, whoever he was, was probably extremely thankful for his decision to stay out of the limelight. You were sure that he would have been subjected to insane levels of scrutiny from the media and fans of the show. Indeed, even without his name and face being public knowledge, there was still plenty of that. 

Sometimes you felt a little sad that you would never get to hear about Mando from the actor’s perspective. Other cast members gave interviews and attended cons, but there was no way to ever get that interaction with your favourite character, the one you cared about the most. Although you remained in the dark both about his identity and the reasoning behind all the secrecy, you respected whatever reason he had for hiding it. After all, you knew for certain that there was no one else on the planet who could have played Mando as well as the actor who was portraying him. With his confident walk and deep, gravelly voice, he was already an icon without even knowing it.

Despite your respect for the actor behind Mando – you never really joined in with the speculation unless it was a joke. The trend #beyonceismando had been your favourite example of that. But sadly, most fans of the show did not share your restraint. Some of your friends could even be guilty of taking it a little too far sometimes, but you let it go. Life was too short to go around policing what other people did on the internet. Besides, you knew your friends well enough to feel confident that they could never be truly malicious. 

Due to the actor’s anonymity, speculation reached dizzying levels that you sometimes worried could be too much for anyone to live up to – you had seen every possible theory online. To you, online speculation should be fun without turning into something creepy and invasive. It was a fine line. A line that you did your best to tread, remembering there was ultimately a human being at the centre of the speculation. Your friends could let themselves go a bit more, but you tried your best to reign it in. 

The secret identity of Mando’s actor led to all kinds of wild theories. Some swore that he was actually a she, there was a woman underneath the suit and that was why Disney had to keep it secret. Others insisted that Mando was really an alien, with super strength and abilities straight out of Star Wars. There was also a sizable majority who believed the reason for his secretive identity was because the actor was straight out of the army and had killed thousands in real life. Speculation ran particularly wild on social media: everyone hoped that their favourite actor was somehow the man behind the helmet, even if their schedules did not line up and their voices did not match, which led to more theories that his voice was being altered somehow to conceal his identity. That particular theory meant everyone could now imagine their particular favourite actor was behind the character that had become such an iconic figure in pop culture.

Indeed, most of The Mandalorian’s appeal to the general public was the mystery and the speculation as to his true identity. Some people only watched every episode, thinking that would finally be the week he removed his helmet and their theory would prove to have been the correct one all along. Some people scrutinised every single shot, wondering if the mask had slipped for even a second. People had even tried to hack into the CCTV cameras of the studios where the seasons were being filmed.

You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t enjoy indulging with your online friends. You had spent countless hours talking to them, laughing at their attempts to piece together his identity from the scantest of information. They scrutinised the internet for images to compare his build and height compared with other known actors who were in the right age range. They were convinced that perhaps the way he held himself – the gait of his walk, the stance he took with his hands on his hips, the way he often shifted his weight on one leg – could give them clues as to his identity that they were so desperate to crack. You left them to it, laughing at how they could turn the smallest things into some kind of full-blown theory and proof. But to you, Mando was just as amazing without you ever knowing anything about who he was beneath the helmet. You loved the show and the character much more than you loved the online theories.

Ultimately, watching the speculation unfold was all good fun (at least for you) and proved to be a welcome distraction that helped you to get through the horrors of being in your mid-twenties. Like the situation you found yourself in now – having to exit the tube and make food after a long day of work. 

Daydreaming about Mando and the friends you had made had passed the time perfectly, your stop was next and you couldn’t wait to finally be off the tube with all of its furious rattling. Thankfully, by the time you made it to street level, the rain had ceased. The humidity had increased in its place, though and any remaining dampness on your clothes from your earlier drenching magically evaporated in the hot air.

Only the stairs up to your apartment separated you from Mando now, and you felt the final energy reserves draining as you ascended them. You sighed as you turned the key and pushed the door open, both in relief at finally being home after such a difficult day and pure exhaustion. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to sloth out in front of the TV and watch your favourite space cowboy do his thing on your screen. But unfortunately, you were an adult. No one would magically appear with a plate of food, much as you would have appreciated it. You headed into the kitchen to begin preparing your food. You wondered what Mando would be like in the kitchen (everything came back to him eventually) – did he even eat? You had never seen it on screen, at least. You wondered if he even could eat under the helmet. Perhaps you’d text Ria about that later, and see her thoughts. Maybe she’d even write a oneshot based on it and gift it to you. 

As you stood there in your small kitchen, stirring the ingredients in the pan that would constitute your dinner – you realised just how this show had invaded every crevice of your brain. The Mandalorian had undeniably entered your brain in a way that made you think of it almost constantly. Sometimes, when you were walking around on your lunch break, you would imagine whether anyone you passed in the street could be the man that you were so enamoured by. You felt certain that you’d recognise Mando’s broad shoulders anywhere, even if you were right next to him. But it was a fruitless task, one that you knew deep down you would never get answers to. It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear next to you one day or anything.

With your dinner plated up, you made your way to the front room to eat in your preferred position – on the sofa, in front of the TV. Sure, being an adult was hard sometimes but it meant that you got to indulge in little luxuries like this. Your family would probably freak out if they saw how you ate – hunched over on the couch, squealing with a mouth full of food over scenes you had watched dozens of times before – but you didn’t care. 

As you flopped down on the couch, ready to watch another episode of The Mandalorian while eating your dinner, your phone buzzed with a message from one of your best online friends. You had met Ria shortly after you had felt compelled to make an account after finishing the first season of The Mandalorian, but you had yet to meet in person. That was all going to change very soon, though: she was flying in to attend a convention with you next week. The promise of not only finally meeting your best friend, but also getting to spend time surrounded by others who loved The Mandalorian just as much as both of you did at the convention, had honestly kept you going recently. It was the subject of the con that was the reason for Ria’s messages:

[thisistheslay] 17:57: OMG! OMG! There’s gonna be a Mando panel at the con next week. WE HAVE TO GO!!

You tapped out a reply:

[ilovemando] 17:57: what panel? and when?

[thisistheslay] 17:58: Literally the first day at 2pm. It’s called ‘The Man behind the Mandalorian: Exploring the Identity of the Galaxy’s Best Bounty Hunter.’ We NEED to be there, like you don’t understand!!

[thisistheslay] 17:59: HELLO bestie, what if HE’S THERE! What if they finally unveil who he is!!

You put your phone down on your lap and let out a small laugh as you rolled your eyes. Ria was constantly convinced that Mando was finally going to reveal his identity. It was based on pure speculation at worst and half-baked rumours at best. It had been an ongoing debate between the two of you throughout your friendship, you doubted that Mando would ever reveal himself. He had left it this long, why would he choose to reveal his identity now? But it was all in good fun, after all. You knew how much Ria truly loved the show and Mando. Just like you, for Ria, this speculation was all a bit of fun. She wasn’t one of the toxic people who said they would never watch another episode if the actor who played Mando turned out to be ugly. Yes, unbelievably, that was something that you had actually seen people write publicly online, for others to see. Maybe even the man who played Mando himself. It made you feel sick, they didn’t deserve him or the show. 

You texted back:

[ilovemando] 18:03: oh i do, but not like you. yeah we’ll go… don’t be disappointed when mando doesn’t show tho

[thisistheslay] 18:04: No he’s going to be there! I can just FEEL it!!

[ilovemando] 18:05: ok sure, whatever u say. gotta eat but i’ll message you later

You really did have to go. No distractions would come between you and an episode of The Mandalorian, especially not while eating your dinner. As you sat back and watched the episode you had seen dozens of times before – in this one, Mando was tasked with hunting down a group of rogue mercenaries on a prison ship – your mind wandered back to Ria’s messages. You knew she was just being her usual ridiculous self, losing it over crumbs in an exaggerated, ironic way… but you couldn’t help but wonder about what you would do if her words came true. What if you did, one day, come face to face with Mando? What would you say? Would you even realise when he was in the same room as you, would it be an obvious, earth-shattering feeling? Or something far more subtle?

It was a ridiculous topic. But despite yourself, it was one you spent the rest of the evening ruminating over. The prospect of attending the con was nerve-wracking already – it was going to be a large, crowded event with many people in an unfamiliar environment. That was already setting your nerves on edge, even without the prospect of Mando being there. But thinking that there was perhaps the smallest chance that you could be about to lay eyes upon the man who brought your favourite character to life…

Well, that was a whole other level of nerves. 

Next Chapter

[ckret2]

i know you’ve talked about bill’s music tastes before, but do you have any head cannons for other characters’ music tastes?

i.e. do you think mabel would listen to vocaloid?

Mabel: here's what we know about her tastes.

She loves Dream Boy High; Dream Boy High's VCR tape design has nods to Jem & the Holograms, which has a million songs per episodes; Mabel has Xyler & Craz play synth music to defeat Bill; Mabeland plays 80's music. She's into extremely 80's-sounding synth-heavy pop. The music she plays in dream realms is the music closest to her heart. This is the core of her musical tastes.

There's something subtly, inexplicably different about music made for cartoons vs contemporary popular music, even when they're trying to portray the same genres. I can't describe what that quality is, but it's there. Anyway, if the core of Mabel's musical tastes is rooted in or near Dream Boy High, then she probably listens to other 80s cartoon soundtracks.

She's into 2010s acts that are throwbacks to late-1990s boy bands. She'd probably also like actual 90s boy bands.

She's fluent in modern top 40 music—which is no doubt where she she picked up Sev'ral Timez. I see her as the kind of kid who just keeps the radio on all the time. (And I do mean the radio—she didn't get a phone til the end of last summer, we see her with CDs, she probably had a radio long before she tried streaming.)

She's also fluent in classic rock ballads, but it's not her preference. She's a "grew up listening to the radio stations her parents picked on a car ride" kid. I suspect her dad plays 70s/80s pop in the car (cementing her primary musical tastes) because there's another Pines into synth pop so I've decided it's genetic, and her mom plays the classic rock. Mabel knows Don't Start Unbelieving from Mabel & Mom karaoke nights.

Dipper: if Mabel grew up listening to her parents' picks on the car radio, so did he. This is where he picked up his love for BABBA. From this we can deduce that, if their dad is the 70s/80s pop music parent, their dad probably drives them around more than their mom. I think you could safely give him other disco bands as well.

He plays the sousaphone but every band kid I've ever known treats band more like a musical sport than like a musical genre—the super passionate ones might practice extra and might watch other bands' performances, but they didn't just sit around listening to marching band music for fun. However, he also practices during the summer, even though he's in another state and obviously not participating in any summer band activities, which suggests an unusual passion for marching band. I still don't think he just listens to marching band music for fun but he probably keeps hearing songs and going "oh wow I've never heard the original before, only the band version."

He picked up a couple of indie folk bands to try to impress Wendy but he's not super into them.

Ford: He was on the absolute cutting edge of new wave & synth pop in the 80s. He was into the obscure stuff. Somewhere in the shack is a pile of cassettes by new wave acts the rest of the world has completely forgotten. He and Mabel trade music recommendations: he gives her the obscure as hell stuff and she tells him about all the cool new* (*post-1982) bands he never got to see. Mabel prefers peppier songs and he prefers moodier songs but there's a HUGE overlap between their tastes.

In a better, portal-less world, Ford's taste in new wave would have had time to drift into dark wave and cold wave, and from there slid over sideways to discover goth rock. There's an unhatched trad goth somewhere in his soul. He should have been listening to Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, and The Cure. He should have gotten a black trench coat because he thought it would make him feel cool, not because he was an interdimensional criminal on the run. It's not too late for him to discover it now, but by now he should have made it miles beyond the major 80s goth rock acts, gone down half a dozen increasingly obscure genre alleys, and be burrowed deep into some weird sub-sub-sub-genre of EBM you and I have never heard of.

He has a love/hate relationship with All Star.

Stan: He liked hanging out at a 50s-themed diner in the 70s. He likes 50s music. I also think he picked up a fair amount of Spanish-language 50s rock-and-roll while abroad. Once like five years ago Soos overheard Stan playing a record and singing a song Abuelita plays and it cemented his ambition to reverse-adopt Stan as his dad.

Soos: Popular hip hop and anime/video game soundtracks. Every rap song he knows has been on the Billboard Hot 100 but on the other hand he has the demo version of the extended version of the ending theme of an anime from 2001 that was never fully released outside Japan and he's probably got a fifteen-minute story about why he knows this song even exists. He's puzzled through the shipping info of a Japanese CD website to get the official soundtrack of the most dogshit anime you could imagine. He's spent a week pouring through anime convention forums trying to track down a song he overheard someone use as their background music at a cosplay contest. Lots of 8-bit.

Wendy: You know the stomp clap hey genre? That. I have nothing further to add, you know what I'm talking about. Her heart yearns to escape to hipster city. She didn't even like Robbie's music when they were dating, she just thought it was cool he made it.

I'm not gonna go through every character I have headcanons for, you don't need all that on one post. Anyway, have a work in progress playlist. It's rigorously organized. "😀😀😀 Character Name 😀😀😀" is what each character would like listening to, "😀 Zodiac Symbol 😀" is songs about each character, "🪐🪐🪐 Flatland 🪐🪐🪐" is backstory stuff, "🌎 Earth 🌎" is either songs I need on this playlist for the vibes or songs that belong in one of the other categories but I haven't sorted them yet. Some of the sections are still empty. I think this is forgivable since the playlist is already 11 hours long.

[inemi]

The Symphony of the Soul

Music is more than a collection of sounds; it's a time machine, a portal to forgotten emotions, a mirror to the soul. When melodies wash over me, they don't just enter my ears - they seep into every fiber of my being, awakening dormant feelings and long-buried memories.

With the first notes of a familiar song, I'm transported. Suddenly, I'm no longer in the present - I'm reliving the exhilaration of my first love, the bittersweet ache of a goodbye, or the carefree joy of childhood summers. Lyrics intertwine with my personal history, each word a thread weaving the tapestry of my past into the fabric of now.

Sometimes, a single verse can catapult me across time and space. I'm back in that old car, windows down, singing at the top of my lungs with friends I haven't seen in years. Or I'm slow dancing at prom, heart pounding, lost in a moment that felt eternal. The power of music lies not just in its composition, but in its ability to resurrect these precious fragments of our lives.

It's not about perfect pitch or flawless production. It's about the way a chorus can make my heart soar, how a bridge can bring tears to my eyes, or how a beat can set my soul on fire. Music doesn't just move through me - it moves me. It speaks truths I've always known but never found words for, and whispers secrets about myself I'm only just discovering.

This is why I cherish music so deeply. It's not just sound - it's the soundtrack of my life, the keeper of my memories, and the voice of my innermost self. In its embrace, I am fully, profoundly, and beautifully alive - feeling every joy, every heartbreak, and every triumph as if for the first time.

~ Etheric Echoes

~ Image via Pinterest

[theragamuffininitiative]

3, 6, 16, 23 👀

3. favourite musical to listen to:

I'm suddenly regretting reblogging this ask, this is like choosing between children. However! I have the unfortunate theatre nerd honor of loving lots of versions of musicals that are not the OBC so choosing purely from albums....

I think I would have to say The Scarlet Pimpernel. It's one of my favorites in general but that soundtrack goes so stinking hard. Esepcially everything Douglas Sills does as Percy. When Percy thinks he can't trust his wife and resolves to continue anyway during "Prayer"??? 😭 and Marguerite's mirrored despair at losing the man she thought she knew in "When I Look At You" (AND THEIR DUET) The hilarity of "The Creation of Man" and and "The Scarlet Pimpernel and "They Seek Him Here"???? ("I said brief, not infinitesimal" and his book-perfect inane laugh my beloved) The sweeping epic opening of "Madame Guillotine?" !!!!! The amazing sibling love in "You Are My Home" and the exhilarating swashbuckling of "Into the Fire" and the PEAK villain ballad, "Falcon in the Dive" ksudfnlsdkjfsnldfkjsd. Frank Wildhorn musicals my forever beloved, and Nan Knighton's one and only absolutely perfect book and lyrics. 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

6. favourite musical you've seen live

I have been blessed to see several touring productions of beloved shows as well as some really wonderful local productions. I'm going to cheat and say two bc the one doesn't exist anymore lol. I got to see the out-of-town tryout production of The Last Days of Summer starring Corey Cott and can I tell you that experience will stay with me for all my life. I think I wrote a massive post about it on here somewhere way back then. But the true answer should be Wicked. Wicked is the first professional (tour) production I ever saw, and a bonding point with many friends, and I got to see it on Broadway last year as my first bway show. 😊 This show is not overrated, it is literally perfection of stage craft from the top down and deserves every accolade and I hope the movie is good but it will never replace the show in my heart.

16. favourite musical that's underrated

(I love so many unknown/underrated musicals hhhhh)

Nobody now talks about The Secret Garden but it was certainly not underrated when it was on bway, people have just forgotten about it. 😭 Same with The Scarlet Pimpernel. So I have to say Bandstand, right? Absolutely, of course I do, and I'm gonna.

Corey Cott (him again) earned that (nonexistent) Tony nomination. I would be sad if he was nominated and lost, but I will eternally be Salty As Ever Living Heck that he wasn't even nominated. But the show in general is just so amazing, musically and storyline and visually and acting and lksjdnfsdkgjneiosfdk. This show is so so important to me, you don't even know. War widows and brotherhood and grief and survivor's guilt and finding love again and throwing off the glamor to expose the truth. Laura Osnes's #withtheband vlogs from backstage while they were in the show have taken up residence in a corner of my soul.

Wicked is only the first show I saw on bway because Bandstand closed after Dear Evan Hanson swept the awards, and I didn't have enough time to make the trip to see it.

BUT! I did get to see the tour! The fall before covid hit AND CLOSED IT TOO I got to see the national tour cast and I was very unconvinced that they would be able to do it justice when the OBC cast are some of my favorite humans in the whole wide world, but man oh man. When Zack Zaromatidis broke down as Donny telling Julia his awful dark secret, Zack bent at the waist like he had sucker-punched himself and from my seat a few rows from the stage I watched a single tear fall from his face and hit the stage floor and I'm telling you, I lost it. He did Donny and Corey right and proud. And my friend and I got to meet him and a bunch of the cast after!

I may or may not have access to the Bandstand proshot they made right before closing and I may or may not be willing to totally share so you can be obsessed too...

23. favourite lyric from a musical

I literally can't do this, you can't make me, I'm just gonna pull some of my absolute beloved lyrics from the aforementioned shows off the top of my head, ok go:

The Scarlet Pimpernel: Oh Lord, how could you let me love like this? / No one dies upon a kiss / and only fools believe in bliss... With time, I'll find a way to right this wrong / if it takes my whole life long / Lord, I'll fight my battles all alone / but make me / strong.

(Idk any of the lyrics from Last Days of Summer and it's a criiiimme)

Wicked: Let me say before we part / So much of me / is made of what I learned from you / and you'll be with me / like a handprint on my heart / Now whatever way our stories end / I know you have rewritten mine / by being my friend.

Bandstand: They'll say right this way / we've reserved this just for you / you've been waiting for this day / it's the least that we can do / you've arrived at last my friend / after fighting for far too long (it's a privilege sir may I say?) / "Right this way."

-deep breath- Ok, well, good to know my inner theatre nerd is still alive and well. XD

[blueeyedvirgo89]

The Symphony of the Soul

Music is more than a collection of sounds; it's a time machine, a portal to forgotten emotions, a mirror to the soul. When melodies wash over me, they don't just enter my ears - they seep into every fiber of my being, awakening dormant feelings and long-buried memories.

With the first notes of a familiar song, I am transported. Suddenly, I am no longer in the present—I am reliving the exhilaration of my first love, the bittersweet ache of a goodbye, or the carefree joy of hanging out with friends, having bonfires during the summers. Lyrics intertwine with my personal history, each word a thread weaving the tapestry of my past into the fabric of the present.

Sometimes, a single verse can catapult me across time and space. I'm back in my old high school chorus room, vibing out, singing at the top of my lungs with friends I haven't seen in years. Or with my babies singing Disney songs, our hearts pounding as we dance around being silly, lost in a moment that felt eternal. The power of music lies not just in its composition but in its ability to resurrect these precious fragments of our lives.

It's not about perfect pitch or flawless production. It's about the way a chorus can make my heart soar, how a bridge can bring tears to my eyes, or how a beat can set my soul on fire. Music doesn't just move through me - it moves me. It speaks truths I've always known but never found words for, and whispers secrets about myself I'm only just discovering.

This is why I cherish music so deeply. It's not just sound - it's the soundtrack of my life, the keeper of my memories, and the voice of my innermost self. In its embrace, I am fully, profoundly, and beautifully alive - feeling every joy, every heartbreak, and every triumph as if for the first time.

[ask-nico-sdv]

Late nights and Midnight snacks!

AKA mod's attempt at writing fanfiction! No real content warnings, just some self indulgent fluffy shit that my sleep deprived brain cooked up. Words: 1136!

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

The clock on the nightstand seemed to glare at me with an annoyance only inanimate objects could have, the face reading 9:30 pm. Yoba, he had been gone for hours…

I knew as well as anyone how busy the small shop could get, between deliveries, appointments, paperwork, clientele work… But even then, he was almost always back home by 8, at the latest.

The lantern by the door was familiar in my hands as I tugged it off the hook, the soft noise enough to stir the fluffy mounds of our dogs on the couch. A quiet awouf came from the one dog that woke up enough to complain, Ammit making a rather sleepy attempt to climb over her two brothers. “It’s alright Ammit, I’m just checking on Neeks. I’ll be back, ‘kay?” That seemed to be enough to settle Ammit, and even though she settled back down while halfway on top of Cerbie, she did settle back down.

Luckily, the night hadn’t gotten too cold as I walked across the old farmland, and Nico left the porch light of the shop on. The battered sign swung and swayed with the summer breeze, the layers of paint catching the light from the porch like a scene from an old Noir film. 

‘In Memoriam Mortuary.’ 

The quiet sounds of folders shuffling and pen on paper came from the back office, as well as something quiet playing from the desk radio. It sounded like some sort of movie soundtrack, or maybe a videogame backing track. That dork… I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, even as the smile found its way onto my face.

“Hun… it’s past 9:30, you’ve been working for hours. You need to call it for the night, or you’ll never get any sleep.” 

He hummed to himself as he turned to face me, the slight creak of the spinning chair following the motion. And just as I knew it would, his expression changed instantly as he saw me. His cheeks dimpled in a smile, the corners of his baby-blues crinkled up, and if I could hear his internal monologue, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Cascada had started playing. 

“Sorry darlin’, I guess time just got away from me there. Have you eaten anything yet?” 

The wheels of the chair slid against the ground as he pushed himself towards me, his arms looping around me instinctively. His head tucked itself against my chest as he looked up towards me, clearly expecting an answer.

“Mhm, I had some of the leftovers in the fridge. Though it was around dinner time, so a few hours ago-” 

Well, that seemed to be enough to get him up and moving. 

“Nope, nope. That just means we both need to eat, which means it’s dinner time. Second dinner? Bonus dinner..?”

He was already looping his arm with mine as he stood, bracing against me for balance as his other hand pushed him up from the chair. The piles of paperwork had luckily been forgotten for the moment, or at the very least, pushed to the back burner of his mind. The back burner that never seemed to let go of anything, it seemed like. 

The walk back to the farmhouse seemed a lot shorter now that I wasn’t walking it alone, the quiet click of the key in the lock as satisfying as the day I first heard it. The next noise that came from the house was the sound of three very large dogs all climbing off the couch with the grace of a drunken deer, and the sound of something being knocked off the end-table by a wagging tail. 

“Down guys, four paws on the floor.” 

He tried, but that didn’t really work. Admittedly, it never worked and one of us always ended up having to nudge the dogs by their noses until they gave us enough room to walk without tripping over them. Get big dogs, they said. They’re good for security and helping around the house, they said. 

Though in reality, these guys were definitely good for cuddles, as they were more than willing to prove as soon as I sat back down on the couch. I barely had time to settle in before I was quite literally dog-piled, watching as Nico hung his jacket on the coathook by the door. Somehow I always managed to forget how much that jacket always hid, though admittedly, I wasn’t quite sure why. He regularly lifted and maneuvered hundreds of pounds just to keep the shop running, as well as handling all sorts of deliveries on his own. It must have been the combination of his jacket and chronic baby-face.

“Hun, what are you hungry for? Anything in particular?” Oh, right. Dinner 2.0. 

“Just whatever you feel like cooking, you know what I like.” He smiled at that, that same goofy smile that lit up his whole face. Even the dogs seemed to perk up at the sound of dinner plans, though that may have been because Nico always slipped them bits and pieces while he was cooking. All with the same excuse of ‘they’re good boys and girls!’, which he did have a point with. They really were good dogs. Even if they did squish me into the couch while he made his way to the kitchen, though I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to help with cooking anyway. Last time I tried to stir something for him, I ended up getting bopped in the hand with a spatula, which was enough warning for me. The kitchen was his space, and I got to enjoy the aftermath regardless.

Luckily, the aftermath of the cooking came pretty quickly. It was only a few minutes before I was pushing one of the dogs aside to make room for him, taking a bowl of what looked to be paella before I was pulled against his side. Oh, how the cuddlebug continued to strike. Not like I could ever complain, it was too comfy to even think about getting up or moving. The fireplace was lit and crackling, the paella was hot and filling, there were not one, not two, but three dogs lounging across the couch with us, the fireflies were just starting to rise up out of the bushes around the house… 

By the time I realized I was starting to fall asleep, I could already feel blankets being pulled up and over me on the couch, a pillow being tucked somewhat haphazardly behind my head. 

The bowl of paella had been set on the coffee table at some point, and even partly asleep I knew what the gentle press on my forehead was, the slight stickiness of chapstick enough to give it away.

“Good night darlin’, I love you.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Aquarius / Let the Sunshine In (Summer of Soul Soundtrack - Live at the 1969 Harlem Cultural...

* * * *

Song of the Day - “Aquarius”

Today marks the 55th anniversary of the now-legendary Harlem Cultural Festival, held in Mount Morris Park (now called Marcus Garvey Park) on June 29th, 1969…

In that Summer of incredible concerts, this one is one of the best ones… but it was nearly forgotten…

The footage shot of this event was shelved for decades until drummer, record producer, disc jockey, filmmaker, music journalist, and actor Questlove took it and made it into the documentary “Summer of Soul” … which he released this week in 2021…

Performers included Stevie Wonder, Sly and the Family Stone, the Fifth Dimension, B.B. King, the Staple Singers, Chuck Jackson, Abbey Lincoln, Max Roach, David Ruffin, Hugh Masekela, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Mahalia Jackson, the Edwin Hawkins Singers, Tony Lawrence, Cal Tjader, Ray Barreto, Herbie Mann, Moms Mabley, Mongo Santamaria, and Nina Simone…

Today, June 29th, 1969 was the first day of this epic event… and would spark a series of these concerts here each Sunday for much of the Summer…

Due to its being held in that summer of amazing concerts, and its proximity, date wise, to Woodstock, this festival is now called The Black Woodstock…

While Woodstock had more of a counterculture theme, the Harlem Cultural Festival was almost exclusively Black artists and its theme was essentially a celebration of Black culture…

The Fifth Dimension had just released their mega-hit cover of “Aquarius / Let The Sun Shine In” and this group was at its peak… a song meant to be sung live… never done better than right here…

[Mary Elaine LeBey]

[thesinglesjukebox]

LUKE COMBS - "AIN'T NO LOVE IN OKLAHOMA"

You're doing mid, Oklahoma...

[5.62]

Ian Mathers: This goes so much harder than anything from Twisters: The Album ought to that it verges on false advertising. [8]

Julian Axelrod: There are two songs on the Twisters soundtrack with "Oklahoma" in the title. Lainey Wilson's "Out of Oklahoma" is a tender, conflicted ballad that underlines both our heroine Kate's complicated feelings toward her hometown and Daisy Edgar-Jones's complicated feelings toward American accents. On the other end of the spectrum is Luke Combs's "Ain't No Love in Oklahoma," a big honking stomper that blares out of YouTube storm chaser Tyler's truck every time he drives into frame. "Out of Oklahoma" is a much better song, but "Ain't No Love in Oklahoma" feels truer to the movie around it: unapologetically dumb, unfathomably huge, and completely uninterested in weather science. In a way, Luke Combs is the Glen Powell of the Twisters soundtrack: He feels it, he rides it, he secures the bag. [6]

Katherine St. Asaph: You know what they say about the weather in Oklahoma (and every other state with a version of this adage): if you don't like how badass a song about it sounds, wait two minutes. [4]

Tim de Reuse: My bona fides: I grew up in tornado alley, a stone's throw from the same Red River that Combs is caterwauling about here, and I spent every spring and summer hiding in basements and bathrooms with a battery-powered radio whenever the sirens turned on. If you're going to write an aggressive, regionally-themed country belter, then the theme of middle-American inclement weather gives you a lot to work with! A skinny little fuck-you from heaven that selectively plucks entire neighborhoods off the map, terrifying in its unpredictability but boring in its yearly ritualization -- you could say a lot there about vice, adrenaline, self-destruction, or maybe just the texture of life in Oklahoma itself. But outside of a few lines that explicitly reference storm-chasing, ostensibly added out of contractual obligation, it's Combs-by-numbers, albeit with a soundtrack-ass hard-rock production job that bounces off his voice completely. If someone else had gotten this paycheck they might have accidentally done something interesting. [4]

Nortey Dowuona: Not bad, just not good. Doesn't tell me anything about who you are, or what you feel. [6]

Alfred Soto: I want my tornado songs to sound like sax solos on Stooges tracks or to depict romantic entanglement like this forgotten 1996 beauty. Luke Combs doesn't sound like a windstorm -- he blows hot air like a MAGA on a street corner. [3]

Taylor Alatorre: There were probably discussions at some point about wanting to learn from the mistakes of "Humans Being," which is unfortunate because "Humans Being" is Van Hagar at their messy, pissed-off best, mixing chaos and composure in a way that perfectly mirrors the characters on screen. Combs's paean to the perils of storm chasing is more deliberate in its pacing and more literal in its writing, while still leaving enough lyrical wiggle room for those who really do just want the tornadoes to be metaphors. The focus on duality and ambivalence is appropriate for a disaster film in which the disaster is both sought out and avoided in equal measure. And if the tough-talking country-rock grit scans as generic upon first listen, those few seconds of breathing room after each verse offer both variety and a hint of the “silent extreme” that Hagar spoke of. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: As unnecessary as making a sequel to Twister and at least as gloriously obvious as titling it Twisters. In recent years, the distortion pedal has been cause for concern in country music, not because it's a sign of inauthenticity or any of that guff but because Nashville wields it like a dumb man with an oversized truck: as an easy marker of lunkish masculinity that's never actually used to get anything from A to B — wit, wordplay, weltanschauung. "Ain't No Love in Oklahoma" sounds like that type of thing, but Luke Combs matches the storm-sized riff with roaring intensity. The lyrics about chasing the devil down a Sooner State highway don't get deep or dark enough to suggest any actual hell is being raised, but this is a song off the soundtrack of a summer blockbuster; it's enough to kick moderate quantities of ass. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[courageisneverforgotten]

✨ rules: pick a song for each letter of your url and tag that many people (or don't, it's up to you) - don't repeat same artists! ✨

(tagged by @its-me-satine - thank you !! <33)

courage

calling (spider-man: across the spider-verse soundtrack / metro boomin) ; one summer’s day (joe hisaishi) ; use somebody (kings of leon) ; restless moon (maya hawke) ; any day now (trousdale) ; give me a minute (lizzy mcalpine) ; ends of the earth (lord huron)

is

i want your video (djo) ; spring / sun / winter / dread (everything everything)

never

new orleans (parachute) ; egg in the backseat (em beihold) ; valentine (laufey) ; exile (taylor swift feat. bon iver) ; rachel (steppes)

forgotten

formidable (twenty one pilots) ; oh GOD (orla gartland) ; run and hide (sabrina carpenter) ; over those hills (hayley williams) ; toxic thoughts (faith marie) ; times are hard for dreamers (amélie cast recording) ; everywhere (fleetwood mac) ; nonbeliever (lucy dacus)

open tags :D

[songofwizardry]

so for the past few years, i have made a list of 'things i really liked this year' in december, and it's never gone beyond ramblings in my notes app, but this year, finally, it is going on tumblr! mainly bc i enjoy talking about things and i can guarantee i will have forgotten about some of these things in a year and i like records.

so, here we go—a fairly chaotic list of media i enjoyed in 2023 (with links where possible!)

words (prose, poetry, etc):

the word for world is forest by Ursula K. Le Guin [prose]: i have been intending to read this for years, and i finally picked it up at the start of 2023, and it is incredible. it's fairly brutal, but it was... idk, i have not read anything else that captures the violence inherent in colonisation and the effects of the decolonial project this well. what a book

your emergency contact has experienced an emergency by Chen Chen [poetry collection]: this poetry collection was very good and pretty fucking heavy (cw for homophobia throughout) and extremely emotional and made me feel many, many seventeen-year-old-me feelings. honourable mentions to higher education (excerpt here) and doctor's note.

a master of djinn by P. Djèlí Clark [prose]: i did not read as much sff as i wanted to this year, but i did read this one, and it's great. i adore fatma. i want all her outfits. the alternate cairo is super cool. the angels. it's a really good read. there's a pretty good tor dot com review of it here, if you're interested.

darius the great is not okay and darius the great deserves better by Adib Khorram [prose]: i read a truly ridiculous amount of YA this spring/summer. some of it was incredible, some of it was less-so, but i thought at least one YA book should be on here. this was one of my favourites. both books are lovely, a really-well written look at both living with depression and the challenges and joys of being a mixed-race kid. also, Sohrab is a sweetie.

audio & music (yes music-y videos are in here don't question my organisation):

now and for always from the Watermill theatre's revival of the lord of the rings musical [music + video]: i have loved the soundtrack of this musical for years, and then the Watermill ran it over the summer and i had the incredible luck to go watch it, and it was phenomenal. this song makes me cry literally always, Nuwan Hugh Perera as Sam is amazing, and the whole musical but particularly this song with actor-musicians worked so well.

solidarity forever with Billy Bragg at the elmwood starbucks strike [music + video]: i started off this year on strike, and as such was both picking picket music and listening to a lot of Billy Bragg just for. general motivation yknow. anyway this video is posted by Aisling Ayers, who got up to sing with Billy Bragg, and it's really good. it makes me emotional every time.

artist: known from WBUR's Endless Thread [podcast]: this episode was how i got into Endless Thread, which is great fun on my commute, and – as a wrinkle in time fan – the history behind the artist of the cover was fascinating. it's a really interesting episode, and it made me emotional about old sff art.

you're gonna go far by Noah Kahan, from stick season (we'll all be here forever) [music]: this album is actually one of the very few new pieces of english language music i listened to all year (ok this and the new Hozier album) and honestly it's such a good album, incredible song after incredible song. this one is my favourite though. i have been writing more this year, and this one has been on repeat while i've been writing for the last few months.

video:

disney channel's theme: a history mystery by Defunctland [video essay]: look 1 i know we've all watched it by now and 2 yes it was posted in late 2022 but i didn't watch it till 2023 but this may be... my favourite video essay ever? it has everything. the anxiety of wondering if the mystery will be solved. the twist. the impeccable fucking editing. the emotions. the little aside about being a documetarian. it's so good.

the largest telescope that will ever be built* by Tom Scott [video]: we have one (1) more of Tom Scott's regular monday videos before he goes on leave/sabbatical/etc, and he has given us so many gems over the last several years, it's hard to even pick a favourite from this year. but this one is really fucking good. i'm biased though, there's telescopes in this one.

rehearsing a string quartet while speaking different languages by TwoSetViolin [video]: ("salmon, why is this not in the music section?" because there are no rules. this is my list). i fell down a TwoSetViolin rabbit hole at the start of the year, and you must understand i know nothing about music. can't play a single instrument. can't read sheet music. absolutely fuck all. but i am obsessed with this video. i can't recommend it enough. it's hilarious, it's an incredible show of skill, my multilingual heart enjoyed it immensely, and they clearly had a lot of fun with the subtitles and notes.

escape the greenroom - Gamechanger season 5 episode 9 [video, dropout exclusive]: if you are not watching Gamechanger yet i cannot emphasise how much you should because it is honestly fucking incredible, and every season has done more and more weird and fun things with the format, but season 5 really blew the previous ones outta the water. this episode was incredible. i won't spoil it, but here's the opening on YouTube shorts. if you have watched it, it's 100% worth a rewatch btw

plagiarism and you(tube) by hbomberguy [video essay]: you knew it was coming. it's the video of the year. this is the logical conclusion of roblox oof + who wrote caramelldansen + the author of homestuck contacted me just going to a like. whole other level. what a video. more twists than you could ever predict. iconic work. well worth the several hours.

to hurt is to heal - critical role campaign 3 episode 79 [actual play]: i've been so good. i have not put any cr on here so far. everything else on here you do not need to watch several hundred hours of media to understand. there had to be at least one though, because of who i am as a person. anyway this may be my... favourite cr episode ever? at least in my top 3. (no spoilers, promise.) it's got fey bullshit. it's got a fun twist thing i didn't see coming. it's got... asmr? it's got reveals stacked on reveals in a precarious jenga tower. great episode.

ok. there are several more things that could've ended up on this list (including more books and a lot of not-English music), but i will stop here. 2023 has been a wild, wild year with a lot of really incredible happenings and some fairly Intense Times, but hey, let's see what 2024 brings—probably more video essays and more podcasts and more critical role compilations, and (maybe?? if we're lucky???) alecto the ninth. happy new year, folks!

[lavendarneverlands]

I’m bored and the chronic illness is chronic illness-ing today so

📷 It’s one of the rotating albums; mostly of my platonic soulmate, cat, and little brother.

🍫 Chocolate

✨ Yes, many, it’s a long story😂. But as far as Tumblr goes Lila or Lav.

🎵 “You’re Losing Me”👀👀by Taylor Swift😅😅

✏️ Yes, though I never published it.

😉 Yes, but not really. I have an account, but I don’t think I’ve ever used it (other than watching a friends stream).

💛 Yes & no😂; I’m getting my ears re-pierced soon.

🐰 That is a very complicated question with too little time to answer… but I can say in a first meeting, how they treat other people (more than me it’s mostly the people around us) goes a long way (be kind/don’t be senselessly mean to your waiters & baristas people :-)

🍪 I’d like to say a chocolate-chip cookie with the lil colored (off-brand😂) m&m’s😋

🐶🐱Both! I have a cat that I’m obsessed with, and I’m currently waiting to go pick up my new furbaby a lil golden retriever soon!

🎧 AirPods

🌼 “How do you get the strawberry Zofran smell out of a duvet?”😂

🙃 “There’s a hundred and four days of summer vacation and school comes along just to end it.” — idk why that’s what came to mind🤷‍♀️ otherwise pineapples grow from the ground still astounds me🤣

🦉 I’m a “whatever I need to be” insomniac, but probably leaning more towards night owl (cause waking up at 6:00 a.m. is miserable, but staying up till 3:00 a.m. is fine)

🧸 My bed in a blanket nest with my cat, while watching a movie like Harry Potter or Twilight (basically anything with dark & blue tinted lighting + a good soundtrack) while it gently rains

🏳️‍🌈 Yes😊,🩷💜💙

🦋 weird, artistic, loving,

👖 leggings (trick answer😂)

🧜‍♀️ PSL🍂🎃

🧡 I like all the colors… so I guess white if it was a color? But like the beige/tan/white in hospitals, my C-PTSD doesn’t like it cause it feels too cold & sterile.

💎 A bracelet from my little siblings🥹

☕️ I love both, but coffee (though I’ll never say no to a chai latte)🧋

🦖 Dinosaurs🦕 or the little deer/fox things I’m gonna have to google them (Eohippus evolved “Dawn-horse”) + woolly mammoths🦣

💫 I’ve probably been scrolling for a lonnnggg time… I had old accounts (they’ve since been deleted) back in highschool, then another private personal page probably 4 years ago? And then this one is the first time I’ve actually been active on Tumblr consistently

🏝️ Real life it would be baby wipes because they literally work for everything; wound cleaning, face washing, hair de-frizzing, clothing stain removal, wall scrubbing, cat paws, art projects like acrylic paintings, etc. For scenarios sake though I’d say duct tape (if I’m going to be actual desert island “practical”); you can make shoes, a bag for carrying things, a way to collect water, a trap, a bug deterrent, a house structure, bed padding, a raft, wound closure (albeit a terrible one but one nonetheless) boredom crafts, etc. and if we’re just saying like “I can’t live without it” probably my phone because I wouldn’t get anything done without my notes, calendar, and contacts app.

🕯️ artsy academia, insomniac writer, hairbrained feather-quilled poet, fall flower child, cat lady librarian, hopelessly romantic Parisian wine aunt, coastal grandma in a victorian witches folklorean cottage core hidden in a forgotten forrest of fairytales somewhere in the perpetually raining & starry skied Norwegian North, tending to the garden while tea kettles whistle and the smell of fancy British bake-off breads wafts along the sea to my lost sailor love, as I cleanse my “mad woman” soul with the fresh air I was sent off & away to.

🔮 Art therapist for children with special needs

💙 Single & sometimes a lil lonely (but content with good friends + way too much trauma to entertain anything outside of therapy & books right now😅😂)

🌿 It all depends on where I am, when I’m there, why I’m there, & what the weather is😂 I love fashion, but I have to be comfortable (but I also love heeled booties too much for my own very contradictory good) I almost always have leggings, a crop top, and cool jacket available. I also love a long but slit skirt, anything with thumb holes, or dresses with pockets!💅

🎤 Probably anything by Taylor Swift😂🧣also Hamilton⭐️ (but I probably get some wrong cause it’s my curse😅) also every single word to the Marvel parody of “We Didn’t Start The Fire”🤣

🤎 technically it’s naturally dirty blonde, but it’s got a Carmel hue to it (& changes a lot the past few years)

💌 Yes

💄 Yes! I love any excuse to be artsy & in another life would’ve been a makeup artist cause I enjoy it a lot

🌸 Anything my baby sis has ever said to me🫶

💞 Umm… I love too many of y’all… but I mean I’ve gotta say my bestie @ladyylesbian & the lovely @mysterylilycheeta cause I can’t not tag them in💕+ as always no pressure tags to you both & welcome to all!🤗

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!