#that to continually call their music raw and honest

[kvothes]

he just really gets it, man (x)

[whiteferraristurns]

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ⚠︎︎ none. no use y/n. fluff

Bri ༯ rapper chris!!👅

reblogs, likes and comments are heavily appreciated ᥫ᭡

Late Night in the Studio

The hum of the city faded into the background as you entered the studio, a small black bag clutched in your hand. The dim, moody lights cast a soft glow over the walls lined with platinum records, awards, and Chris's signature graffiti art—raw, messy, undeniably his. The faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla drifted from the candles flickering on the windowsill, the only soft contrast to the electric energy in the room. The space felt familiar, yet every time you entered, the charged energy made you feel like you were stepping into another world.

It was late—later than you would have preferred to be out on a Thursday night—but Chris had insisted, and you couldn’t deny the pull his voice held over you. You were used to the chaos that came with his life, the late-night calls and the constant tug-of-war between your schedules. But something about tonight felt different.

You leaned against the doorway watching how the pink lights lit up his features perfectly. “You look like you’re thinking hard over there,” Chris turned, adjusting his headphones before pulling them down to hang around his neck. He shot you that lazy grin that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. 

“Just wondering why you’ve got me out here at midnight,” you teased, your  lips pulling up into a smile. “Don’t you ever sleep?” Chris shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets with that lazy, too-cool look he always wore. “Can’t sleep when I’ve got inspiration running through me. You should know that by now.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a seat on the leather couch that stretched against the wall. It was worn and cracked, but you’d spent enough time here that it almost felt like home. “So I’m here to be your muse?” You arched an eyebrow, teasing, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the warmth his words brought.

Chris didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers ran over the soundboard, tweaking a few settings as he let the beat play softly in the background. He shot you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes dark and serious. “Actually, yeah. This one’s got your name all over it.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. Your heart skipped, but you tried to play it cool, tilting your head with a small smile. “You really expect me to believe you wrote a whole song about me?”

He nodded, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s wouldn't be the first one”

Your mouth went dry. You knew he poured his life into his music, but the idea that he’d written about you was something else. You glanced away, biting your lip to hide the mix of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, leaning against the soundboard as he met your gaze. “Just… listen.” Chris hit play, and the room filled with a steady, soulful beat, layered with smooth guitar riffs that softened the intensity of the bassline. Then his voice cut through, raw and honest, each line hitting like a confession.

“She’s the pulse that keeps me steady, when the world’s too loud to bear. She’s the reason why I’m breathing, even when there’s smoke in the air.”

The lyrics rolled over you, each word hitting deeper than you’d expected. You breath caught as you heard the pain, the longing, the way he seemed to reach for you through every line. It wasn’t just a song. It was a part of him—a part of your bond. You listened, your hand messing the necklace he had gotten you for your birthday. As his voice continued, weaving a story of nights you’d spent together, of whispered words in dim rooms, of a connection that neither of you knew how to define.

“She’s the storm that keeps me grounded, the spark behind every verse,” he rapped, his voice deep and resonant, each word laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “When I’m lost in this world, she pulls me down to earth.”

The track finally faded into silence, you blinked, realizing your eyes were damp. You hadn’t even noticed the tears pooling, too wrapped up in the emotion of it all.

“Chris…” you started, but words failed you. How could you tell him that you felt it too, that every time he left for another city or hit the stage, you were there with him, a part of your  heart stitched into every lyric?

He crossed the room, sitting beside you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. The air between you both was thick with things unsaid, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“It’s not easy, you know?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Balancing all this. Sometimes, I don’t know how much longer I can keep pulling you into this world.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words sink in. You’d always known that dating Chris meant sacrifice, meant that your time was often borrowed and fleeting. But the thought of letting him go was harder than you wanted to admit.

“You’re not pulling me anywhere, Chris,” you whispered back, your hand reaching out to brush his. “I’m here because I want to be.”

For a moment, he looked away, his jaw tight. You knew that look—he wore it when he was fighting back something deeper, something vulnerable. You reached out, your hand resting on his, grounding him. Slowly, he turned back to you, his fingers threading through yours.

“What if it’s too much?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. “What if… I’m too much?”

You shook her head, squeezing his hand. “You could never be too much, Chris. You’re just… everything.”

Your words hung in the air, soft and steady, the truth of them lingering between you. And in that moment, you felt like you were finally laying your cards on the table, every piece of your heart exposed. You leaned forward, closing the gap between you two, your lips brushing his in a gentle, tender kiss that held everything you couldn’t put into words.

When you pulled away, he held you close, his forehead resting against yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you stayed like that, just breathing, just existing in the same space.

“I don’t know where this is going,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “but I want to figure it out with you.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in her heart. “We’ll figure it out, one verse at a time.”

And as you sat together in the dim studio, surrounded by his music, you knew that whatever happened, you’d face it together—through the highs, the lows, and everything in between. Because no matter what, you had each other, and that was enough.

Bri ༯ short n’ sweet. please tell how this was I lowk hate it😭

more fic’s will be out soon I just thought I’d post this one now since it’s been sitting in my drafts since the day after the video

T͙A͙G͙L͙I͙S͙T͙ ᡣ𐭩

@sturniqloo @iillovechris @themotherofmattschildren @chrislilcumslvt @ghostlyplug @mattsfavginger @chrissturnioloenthusiastforlife @ncm9696 @starfuckoff @heartz4matt

[captainpulisic]

your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave - m. mount

feedback is appreciated, thank you.

word count: 2.1 k gif credits to owner

if anyone asked either of you about it, neither you nor mason would be able to explain how the fight had started. you’re not entirely sure what had made you two so upset with each other, you just knew this bitchy attitude had been happening all morning.

there you were, in the kitchen, pondering over how this fight had started. could it have been about the girl who had been too touchy with him at last night's party? maybe it was about the extra hours you had spent at work this past week, arriving home long after mason had gone to sleep? fuck, if we’re being honest, it was probably about who had finished the last pint of ice cream, maybe? 

as you look at the clock, you decide to put a pin on this reflection, seeing it’s nearly time to leave for tonight's game (just because you both want to murder each other right now doesn’t mean you won’t go, you were never one to miss a game, if you could help it.). you head up the stairs to your bedroom, the same stairs mason had stormed up a few minutes ago. what a child, you nearly laugh at the image of masons pout when you called him immature. instead of retorting with, also, calling you a name, he simply huffed and stomped up the stairs. seconds later, the sound of a door being shut rang throughout the whole house. 

as you enter your shared bedroom, you’re greeted with masons back. his tense movements and the manner in which he is throwing clothes into his duffel bag, let you know he’s still feeling raw about the fight. 

you still feel pretty raw, too. thus, you spare him no glance as you shove past him. yes, you still put on your number nineteen jersey (not wearing it would be a little too much, even you know where to draw the line. mason would see it as a stab to his heart). yet, as you remember how he rolled his eyes when you called him unreasonable, you feel irked again. you need some sort of retaliation. you make a show of putting a plain, grey hoodie over the jersey, refusing to meet his stare. that oughta show him, you think to yourself. he looks as if he wants to say something, yet resorts to another eye roll and an even louder scoff. 

both of your attitudes were so horrendous, they continued as you settled into the car. the whole ride to the bridge, not one word was uttered to each other. no, it was all huffy sighs and the low hum of the music playing. hell, even the way he was holding your hand was stiff, no gentle squeezes or lip brushes. (what? just because he’s furious at you doesn’t mean he’s not going to hold your hand. he's upset, not crazy.)

when you arrive at the bridge, you both linger by the entrance, unsure of what to do or how to depart. usually, on happy days with no fights, you both stay there as long as possible, as you pepper his face with kisses. one on his forehead, one on each cheek, one on the little red spot on the bridge of his nose. you repeat this ritual until you’re both giggling messes. lastly, it ends with one final, proper kiss on his lips before he has to leave for some pre game obligations. mason refers to this as his ‘good luck kisses’. he swears on every star and planet that these ‘good luck kisses’ are the reason they win. before, you’d brushed it off as mason just making silly excuses to get kisses. you’d always been one to indulge him because who were you to deny him kisses? but to mason, he wholeheartedly believed that your little ritual meant something, it was the one superstition he followed before every game.

“you can never not kiss me, or else you’ll have to tell everyone you’re the reason we lost”, he had explained to you. even though you had laughed, it quickly died off when you saw his dead serious expression. “y/n, there’s nothing funny about this. the whole clubs future depends on you and me getting it on.”

therefore, your little tradition was born. if there was a game, mason could be found being kissed to death by you. if ben or conor or anyone else happened to pass by during this, their teasing would be answered with masons, “do you want us to win or not?”

when chelsea would end up winning a match, he’d get so smug. he’d claim that your kisses really were lucky, crediting you for their win. no, you weren’t just his good luck charm, you were the entire teams. if they happened to lose, even with your good luck kiss, he simply blamed it on someone else's performance or the refs shit calls. 

“well that was unfortunate, but it wasn’t my fault,” he would whisper in your ear, as you greeted him after a hard loss. you’d just shake your head, assuring him he was spectacular on the field. a smile would form on his lips as he whispered into your ear, “next time, we have to have a proper makeout, just to make sure we win, yeah?”

yet, right now, the air between you two is frigid. there are no giggles and no playful touches as you cover him in kisses. no, you both stand there and look everywhere but at each other. mason doesn’t leave right away, unsure if he should. you had never been one to deny him his good luck kiss, surely today wouldn’t be the start. arguments come and go but this was your tradition. he knew that you knew what it meant to him. yet, as you showed no indication of leaning in to give him his kisses, he figured he’d take on the role today.

look. you didn’t mean to turn your head, causing his kiss to land on your cheek. you swear it! you had seen him lean down and (secretly) felt relieved that today would have some normalcy, with your good luck kisses. but all too soon, you remembered how mason had refused to listen to you in the heat of the argument. instead of trying to talk things out and think of a solution, he had told you to “grow up” and walked away. like a switch, your anger and bitterness had come back with a vengeance. and like a reflex, your head turned when his lips came crashing down. 

you’ll admit, it was a petty move. you don’t really regret it though, anger still bubbling from his childish behaviour. if he wanted to be childish, so could you. 

you don’t regret it, that is until you see the look on masons face. your rejection of his kiss feels like the ultimate betrayal to him. the hurt in his eyes and his dejected expression have you second guessing everything you’ve ever done. 

“oh,” masons voice is small, but not as small as he feels at the moment. his face has fallen and his heart feels stripped bare. his sad pout is more present than ever. when he speaks, it's a mere whisper, “okay then.”

you’re not doing any better, all the hard feelings you had moments ago were looking very dumb. the look on his face had you ready to fold and forgive him. you had to hold yourself back from reaching for his hand and pulling him into your arms, kissing him until you were pulled apart. you just… couldn't. 

maybe you were too stubborn, but so was he. plus, you still felt you were owed an apology. he was the one in the wrong, the culprit in this stupid argument. you had to remain strong, even if all you wanted was to kiss the sorrows from his face. 

with one final (heartbreaking) glance towards you, mason turns to head into the locker room. and with that, you half heartedly head to the designated seating area for family and friends. 

it’s just a silly tradition mason and I have. we only do it because it gives us a reason to unashamedly make out. it’s not like our kissing sessions affect if chelsea actually wins or not, you tell yourself as you find your seat. 

soon enough, you’re eating your words. you don’t know if you should cover your eyes or turn your head away from the crime scene unfolding in front of you. the way chelsea is being annihilated by the opposing team, you’re dumbstruck. mason is a whole different story, playing like (in the kindest way possible) shit. it’s a sea of cards and missed shots. the ball gets stolen from him more times than you could count and his frustration is evident. he’s throwing fits and cussing out no one in particular as he walks the field. 

by the time the final whistle is blown, you’re grateful the bloodbath is done with. you’re not sure how you feel about what just happened. the one time I didn’t kiss mason, they really did lose, you mull over this. it can’t really be connected, right?

-

nonetheless, as you make your way towards the locker room, you’ve had time to think things over. you’re much more calm than when you left mason two hours ago, and all you want to do is kiss him and end this stupid argument. you’ll even be the one to swallow your pride and apologise if you have to, you just need things to go back to normal. heck, you even took off the hoodie and are proudly showing off the nineteen on your back. maybe that’ll ease the blow a bit. you can’t stop thinking of the hurt look he gave you when you rejected his kiss, and you can already imagine the horrid mood he’ll be in after the end results of the match. he’s already had such a difficult time with all his contract drama, another team loss is the last thing he needed.

waiting outside the locker room, you offer sympathetic smiles as all the boys start to walk out. mason is one of the last ones to exit, looking down at the ground as he walks. when he looks up and sees you, your heart wants to shatter into a million pieces. his dejected expression and ever present pout actually hurt you. 

“you didn’t kiss me,” he whispers matter-of-factly, as he comes to a halt in front of you. he’s still refusing to meet your gaze. he mumbles towards his shoes, “you didn’t kiss me and they kicked our arses out there.”

“what?” you’re baffled, having thought his sour mood would be due solely to the team's loss, or even to his mid performance. you hadn’t thought the lack of kisses between you had gotten to him so badly.

he finally looks at you, and it's like a shot to the heart. his eyes are filled with sadness and frustration and so much hurt. he states it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “you didn’t give me my good luck kiss. you turned away, so I played like shit.”

oh my, your heart might burst. my sweet, precious boy, I don’t deserve you. this situation is so pathetically heartbreaking and you hate to see him so sad over something you did. it’s all too much, the way he genuinely believes your kisses could control the outcome of the game and his performance. 

“my baby,” you’re wrapping your arms around him in an instant. automatically, he reciprocates the action and nuzzles his face into you. you begin to rub his back, trying to ease his breathing and relax him a bit. after a few moments in this embrace, you nudge him from his hiding spot in the crook of your neck and hold his face with both hands. you leave a kiss on the tip of his nose, “i’m so, so sorry. it’ll never happen again.”

he simply nods and offers you a slight smile. in return, you place a soft kiss on his jaw and on at the lobe of his ear. you leave another kiss on his cheek and one on his forehead. soon enough, you’re both lost in a haze of kisses. when you hear him let out a soft laugh, your heart strings ease up. 

yes, this is how it should be. no arguments and rejected kisses. there should just be laughter and intertwined hands and soft kisses and happiness. 

trying to lighten his mood even more, you look around before you lean in towards his ear. you fake whisper, “please don’t tell the other boys I didn’t kiss you today. I don’t want them to start forcing us to kiss in front of them before every game, like some sort of kissing cult sacrifice show.”

he gasps and puts on a (not so) fake offended face, “why not?”

[jtl07]

Oh wow, the ideas kept spinning! So much fun! Now I got a new idea 😅 What if Bea’s band need a new drummer, and Ava shows up (late of course) to the audition. The other band-mates, especially Mary, is ready to just say thank you, next. She is late, she is too bubly for their style and she wears a pink shirt with frogs on?!? Nope, next! But Beatrice can see (and feel) that there’s something there. Something they need! She fights for her. To give her a chance! Something Ava has never experienced before 😭

lolol anon you've started a whole thing what have you doneeeeee

first off, pink shirt with frogs is fantastic love it to bits and of course Mary's like, "no, hell no, fuck no," but they've been holding auditions all week and Beatrice hasn't been impressed with any of the drummers they've seen so far and she's hella stressed because they have an important gig coming up and the fact that this girl is smiling at Beatrice so hopefully is absolutely not a factor in why Beatrice quietly tells Mary to let her play. "it's only fair," is what she says and Mary grumbles but allows it.

and maybe Beatrice notices that she doesn't have any sheet music so she offers Ava a copy but Ava's like, "nope, no need, I've got it all memorized" - which makes both Beatrice and Mary pause because no. their stuff is complicated, proudly so, and for this kid to waltz in here late and wearing a toddler t-shirt - Beatrice lays a hand on Mary's forearm to quiet her muttering.

Ava takes her time adjusting her seat - "geez last guy must have been a giant" she jokes, while Mary grumbles "isn't everyone compared to you?" and Beatrice lets out a quiet sigh - but finally she settles in. "which one should I start with?" Ava asks and Mary scoffs at the assumption that they're gonna listen to her play more than a few measures, much less a whole song.

but Beatrice answers, "in this life." it makes Mary grin because it's one of their more technical songs, one that most of the auditioners have avoided -and those who'd attempted it had been stopped after only a few bars- and to Beatrice's surprise, it makes Ava grin as well.

"nice," Ava says, wiggling in her seat. "that one's my favorite," as if she knows their music - she knows their music? Beatrice wonders as Ava takes up her drumsticks.

and then Ava starts to play.

to call it playing is inaccurate - or rather, an incomplete description of what Ava does. it's playing in the sense that it's playful - there's a joy that Ava exudes, even here, now, with this most complicated of songs; but there's also something raw, something fierce in the way she throws her whole self into the music - like her life depends on it, like death is at her heels, taunting, haunting, and this is Ava fighting back - do not go gentle into that good light, Beatrice thinks, prays; something inside her rises and rages along with Ava, driving the drumbeat of her heart.

Ava finishes the song, looks over at them breathlessly, a wide grin on her face. it wasn't perfect. even in the haze that had consumed Beatrice, she had been aware of that - the momentary stutters, a flourish where one wasn't written - but it was the most enthralling performance Beatrice had seen that day, had seen in her life, if she was being honest.

"well, Ava, thank you for -" "you're in."

both Ava and Mary gape at Beatrice. Mary's eyes narrow, "Beatrice -"

"she's the best shot we have," Beatrice argues, voice low but still fierce, still riding off of the high that was Ava's performance.

Mary shakes her head. "there's still a couple people we can call, she made too many mistakes, Bea."

"let me practice with her. give me two days." the words are out of Beatrice's mouth before she can fully register what she's saying, but she continues anyway. "two days, and if she's not up to par, we'll do it your way. please, Mary."

Mary looks hard at Beatrice, glances at Ava, who's sitting nervously behind the kit, then back at Beatrice. sighs. "two days," she finally acquiesces, grumbling already about how she's going to regret everything. but Beatrice has already tuned Mary out and tuned herself to Ava's frequency.

two days. Beatrice smiles up at Ava; knows she'll get it in one.

[hswriting]

The Moment I Knew- Part 3

[Image Alt ID: a collage of 5 pictures on a light blue background. First picture is of a burger and fries in a take out box. The second picture is of a hospital hallway. The third picture is of a note written on a piece of loose notebook paper that reads “ps. I never told you but I was falling in love”. The fourth picture is of a snow covered road. The final picture is of a person covered up under a blanket with a book on their lap. End Alt ID]

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 2 Part 4

- - -

3.4k words

- - -

Harry released a new song on his YouTube channel and it has Millie in tears

He starts playing on his keyboard a soft like song.

You’ve never known, how would you? I’ve never told you how I felt. You’re with him now I see you. Come over to your house and he’s there. No matter how hard I try to forget that you exist, the world shows me you again. Here we go again.

It’s always been you somehow. Even when you’re with him. It’s always been you somehow. Somehow.

Now I’m knocking on your door, hoping you remember me. Feel like I’m on a merry go round.

The song continues on and I feel myself crying. It’s so raw. So emotional. He likes somebody so much but he can’t be with them. And while it doesn’t sound like our situation is the same, it hurts a lot to listen to.

I miss Kellen so much. We had so many good times. It felt like magic between us. Somewhere along the line he wanted someone else, but I was stopping him. I hated to let him go but I deserve more than that. Kellen was supposed to be the one. And I can’t even stand to think of dating anyone else but him, but I want to. I want someone to love me for me, not only love me when I’m wanting to have sex. I want someone who will talk to me instead of push me away like Kellen did. I want someone who loves me the way that I love. So wholeheartedly and honest. So fearless and brave. Someone who isn’t ashamed to have me.

I may not be ready now, but I will be. Eventually.

I finish up my journal log and shut the book. I take it to my room and tuck it in my sock drawer even though no one would touch it. I don’t want to risk any wandering eyes. I grab my laptop and open it at the table to start my transcribing job for this week when I hear a knock at the door. I assume it’s Harry because who else would it be? Maybe he forgot something or needs to tell me something he doesn’t want to talk about on the phone. I pause my music and go answer the door.

Kellen is standing there on the steps in a black sweatshirt and grey sweat pants. I feel anxiety creep through my body from my stomach to my fingers and toes.

“Millie.”

“What are you doing at my house?”

“I wanted to talk to you. You won’t answer my calls and texts.”

“I wonder why Kellen.”

“Please let me in? Let’s talk.” He says. I know how stubborn he is. He won’t leave until I talk to him. So I let him in. He kicks off his boots and walks to the couch. He sits down. He doesn’t seem anxious or nervous. I sit down in the chair across the room.

“Millie I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did to you. I want to explain.” He begins.

“Go ahead.” I tell him flatly.

“She trapped me at her house. She made me say those things to you.”

“Who. Sam?”

“Yes. She said she has liked me forever. She made me sleep with her. Millie you have to believe me.” He pleaded. “I love you. I fucking miss you.”

“Why should I believe you? You called me crazy. You said I wasn’t ’putting out’. You didn’t sound forced. You meant every word you said.” I scolded. “You cheated on me, and are here lying to me. You want me back so you don’t have to be alone. I won’t be manipulated like this.”

“Baby I promise you I’m not. I miss you.”

“I missed you at my birthday party. I missed you when you weren’t there to celebrate with me. Fuck Kellen, I missed you when you stopped wanting to come over any more than one day a week. I missed you when I was down and needed someone and you ignored me to do who knows what.”

“Mil-“

“I’m not done. I’m not taking you back. I hate you for what you did. I’m so angry and upset. You made me feel worthless! You wouldn’t have bragged to your friends what you did had you been forced Kellen. I’m not stupid.”

“You’re going to regret letting me go. You’re gonna regret every minute I’m not beside you. You’re pathetic without me. I feel bad for the next asshole who likes you.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I say with gritted teeth trying not to cry again. He slides his boots back on and slams the door. It’s quite for a beat, but then there is yelling outside. I can’t quite make out what they are saying. I hurry as fast as I can to put a coat and boots on and run outside to see Kellen in front of Harry’s car. Harry is stepping out of it.

“Perfect fucking timing. Of course you would try and scoop her up like this after she breaks up with me. What a hero!” Kellen says.

“That’s not what’s happening Kellen and you know it.”

“I know that you like her. You always have. Did you think I didn’t notice how you looked at her when we would all hang out?”

“Kellen. Stop.”

“No. If I’m gonna be thrown away like trash you guys are gonna know what I have to say before I go.”

“You better leave her alone. She doesn’t want anything to do with you.” He says. Before I can even blink Kellen punches Harry across the face. I try to run to him but I slip on the ice and land on my back, hitting my head on the ground. My vision gets blurry and I soon black out.

- - -

When I come back from blacking out, I am in an ambulance. I look around but I can’t move my head. I try to look around but all I see is paramedics.

“What happened?” I ask.

“You slipped and hit your head. You lost consciousness you also cut the back of your head on a rock or ice. You need to try and be still. We have you in a brace and are bandaging up your head.” The one woman said.

“Where is he?”

“Where is who honey?

“I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

“You’ll remember soon. Post concussion amnesia doesn’t typically last long.” She says as she applies more bandages.

We finally reach the hospital and they take me in and carefully take me out of the brace. I guess it’s just a precaution since I fell. They remove bloody bandages and stitch up my head where it was cut. They said I will have to have the stitches removed in a few weeks. They gave me some papers on post concussion procedures. They said they would have my discharge papers as soon as they could.

A man I recognize walks in and I suddenly can remember his name. Harry.

“How are you feeling Millie?”

“My head really hurts. Both the headache and the stitches.”

“I was really worried. I didn’t know you were standing outside. You fell and I saw blood and panicked.”

“I don’t really remember what happened.” I told him. “Lady said I should remember stuff again soon.”

“You don’t remember?”

“No. What happened to your face?” I say looking closer to see a light bruise appearing.

“It’s not important.” He says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay since it was my fault.” He said, letting the last part slip.

“Your fault? Harry tell me what happened.” I demand.

“I don’t know what happened before I got there, but I pulled into your house to give you the earmuffs you left in my car. When I got there Kellen had just slammed your front door. He saw me and started arguing and fighting.” As he recounts the events, I slowly begin to remember.

“You’re going to regret letting me go. You’re gonna regret every minute I’m not beside you. You’re pathetic without me. I feel bad for the next asshole who likes you.”

“I know that you like her. You always have. Did you think I didn’t notice how you looked at her when we would all hang out?” Kellen came over and tried to get me back.

“It’s always been you somehow. Even when you’re with him.” Harry’s song.

“He said some really mean things. I’d regret this. He said you liked me.” I said, telling him that I remember. “Why would he say those things?”

“Millie I-“ he starts but the doctor comes in with discharge papers. Tells Harry to make sure I don’t do anything too strenuous and to relax for the next 24 hours. Harry walks me out to his car in silence. He opens the door for me and helps me in. He walks around to the other side and hops in.

“Can I go home?”

“You can go wherever you want to. The doctor did say you really need someone to keep an eye on you for the next 24 hours to make sure you’re okay. If you want me to be that person I can, or I can call Rachel-”

“Rachel isn’t going to come over. If you don’t mind you can be my person. Does that mean we have to go to your house?”

“It’s up to you. Where do you want to be? If you want to stay at my house you can, but if you want me to stay at your house I can.” He says and I take a moment to think. My house is messy, but I don’t want to force my way into his house and eat all of his food and take up that kind of space. I’m lucky he even still wants to be around me after he got punched in the face in my behalf. I can’t ignore what Kellen said about Harry liking me. Harry told me he wasn’t trying to be like that and take advantage, but what if Kellen was right? Harry seems too sweet to ever want to try anything like that. But the chorus of his song rings in my head. This much thought makes my head hurt even worse.

“You can stay at mine. You’ll probably need clothes though if you want to change.”

“Right. I’ll stop at my place and grab my things and then we can go to yours. Sound like a plan?” He says and I nod. He makes a few more turns and we are at his place again. “Do you want to come in?”

“I think I’m gonna sit here and close my eyes for a second. My head is pounding.”

“Okay. I won’t be long.” He says. He quickly jumps out and goes inside. I want to text Rachel to see what she knows about Harry and these accusations into liking me, but I know I’m not supposed to be on my phone. I close my eyes and lay my head against the cold window. I drift off.

I am startled when I hear the drivers door open and Harry is climbing back in. He throws his bag into the back seat and buckles his seat belt. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just dozed off I guess.” I tell him sleepily. He drives the short distance to my house and parks. I let him open my door again and we walk to the front of the house. I grab my keys from my purse and begin to pick out the one to the door, but my fingers don’t want to work. They are slow to grab the key. I try to put it in the lock but can’t seem to get it where it needs to be.

“Would you like help?” He asks gently. I nod and hand him the key. He swiftly puts it in and opens the door. We kick off our boots and I find my way to the couch. Harry turns on my small heater and covers me with a blanket. “It’s about dinner time. Did you want me to fix something for you? Or do you want me to order out?”

“I can cook, it’s okay Har.” I tell him and he seems a bit surprised by the nickname.

“You need to rest. Let me help you out. You’re recovering.”

“I just remembered, weren’t you supposed to go to work?”

“I called out. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says and my heart melts a little from it. He didn’t have to stay, but he did.

“That was sweet. I appreciate it.” I say. “Where do you want to get food from?” I ask him. “I’ll let you cook another day if you really want to.” I said and he chucked. We bounced ideas back and forth before we decided on burgers. He had them door dashed to us. While we are waiting, he sits in the chair where Kellen sat this morning. He grabs his bag and pulls out his journal.

“Do you mind?” He asks. I shake my head. He opens a pen and begins to write. He hums on and off as his pen dances across the page. He is so focused on what he is doing, that he begins to chew on the pen. He brings his knees up into the chair and writes with the journal in his lap.

“Are you working on a new song?” I ask. His eyes shoot up at me and he gives me a smile.

“How did you know?” He questions.

“You hum and then stop to write. Him again and stop. It was just a guess.”

“Yeah. Just trying to figure out how some of the words should go.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Your songs on YouTube are wonderful.” I tell him and heat rises to his face.

“You listened to them?” He asks sheepishly. He places the ribbon in his journal and closes it.

“Yeah. You mentioned it earlier so I came home and listened to it while I wrote in my journal. You have a really beautiful voice Har.”

“Which songs did you listen to?”

“All of them. ‘Falling’ is my favorite.” I tell him. I don’t think he could blush any more than he is now.

“Well, if you like it so much, you should come and see me perform this weekend. If you’re feeling better.”

“I will be there.” I tell him and he smiles from ear to ear. “Your music is just so raw. So emotional. It made me cry.”

“I’m sorry I made you cry, but I do write about things in my life that are very personal.”

“I can tell. I wanted to ask who your song was about that you released this morning? That’s if you want to share, I don’t want to make you.”

“Just about someone in my life. I don’t really feel comfortable sharing that yet. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay to not want to talk about it. As long as you’re happy having it out there is what’s important.”

“I am. I really like the way it turned out.”

“Me too.” I tell him. “Can you play it for me? I’m not supposed to be on my phone or I would.”

“How about I do you one better.” He says softly and pulls out his phone. He comes closer to me and sits in the floor. He presses play and an instrumental starts. His wonderful voice fills my ears. I study his features as he performs.he does it loud enough so I can hear, but he is careful not to have it too loud and worsen my pain. His eyes are shut to start, really focusing on the words. His face is so peaceful. Beautiful even. His eyes open to reveal a sparkling green looking at me as he sings the chorus. Before I know it, the song is over, and he sits and stares at me for a moment before getting up and going back to his chair.

“Any comments?” He asks. I shake my head.

“No. It was perfect. Even better in person.” I tell him. He picks his journal up and sets it in his lap again, but doesn’t open it. He takes a long hard look at it, curls hanging over his eyes.

A knock is rapped on the door. Harry answers it and collects our food and drinks. I sit up slowly and uncover myself. He sits the food on the coffee table and starts taking things out of the bags. He passes me my bottle of water and encourages me to drink that before I drink my soda that I got. I don’t feel like putting up much of a fight so I drink it all and place the bottle back on the table. We eat while talking to each other more about things we didn’t know about each other.

He broke his arm when he was 11 in a trampoline wrestling match with his friends. He once played a drinking game with Jason and the crew. He doesn’t remember much but he woke up with a full face of makeup (luckily no pictures were sharpied onto his skin that night). He likes to listen to old records that remind him of his dad. He also has a baby niece that he babysits from time to time named Layla.

“So do you have any family? You don’t really talk about them, and I don’t see any pictures.”

“Um, no I don’t. My parents died when I was really young. I don’t remember them. I don’t know if I have any aunts and uncles. I was in a group home until I was 18.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt about it. I just wish I had been adopted so I could have had some sort of family.” I tell him. He looks sad. “Really, don’t be upset for me. I’m okay”

“I know you are. I just don’t know what I would have done without my family. I can’t even imagine.” He says.

“One of the plus sides of growing up in the group home was that I learned I could choose my own family. Not blood, not being adopted, but I can choose who I keep in my life. It’s a work in progress. I haven’t found anyone worthy of the title yet, but I know they are out there somewhere.”

“I hope you find them soon.” He says, putting no pressure on me to label him or anyone else in my life. I give him a smile. We finish our dinner quickly. I grab a book from my bedroom and read for a few minutes before drifting off.

- - -

“Hey. Millie. I know you’re tired but you have to wake up for a few minutes.” I hear a voice say. I grunt. “I know, love, but it’s just for a minute and then you can go back to sleep.” He says. I open my eyes to see Harry.

“I’m alive. I’m not brain dead. May I go to bed?” I ask him. He nods.

“Of course love. Just needed to check in on you. Come here.” He says. I close my eyes again and he scoops me up. I bring my arms to my chest and he gently carries me to my bed. I didn’t realize how strong he was. I know I’m not exactly light to carry. His cologne smells amazing. I’ve never noticed it before. He tucks me in and brushes the hair off of my face before turning off my light and closing the door. I fall back asleep only to be awoken again a few times through the night to make sure I’m okay.

- - -

In the morning I allow him to make breakfast. It’s adorable how he tied up his hair and put in my apron. He did not go light on breakfast either. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange juice.

He does the dishes when we are finished. He journals while I read some more of my book, and before we are aware, the 24 hour watch period is over. Harry doesn’t say anything when his timer goes off. He just shuts it off and keeps writing.

“You really are allowed to go home Har, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“It’s up to you. I know it’s been 24 hours but if you want me to go I can. If you want me to stay I will.”

“I’ve got a pretty busy day of work since I missed yesterday. If you want to stay you’re more than welcome to I just need to shower and hop on my laptop.”

“If you’re going to work, I think I’ll go home, but you can message me, okay? I work tonight until 7, but I’m allowed to have my phone.”

“Okay. Thanks again Harry. It really means a lot.”

“It’s no problem, love. You have a good day, okay? Don’t stress yourself out today. You’re still recovering.” He says as he slides his boots and coat on. “If you need anything please call me.” He says. I nod and he walks out the door.

I begin my work and the day passes by quickly.

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 2 Part 4

[thebandcampdiaries]

Trespasser has recently released a new studio work titled “Wasted Time.”

Since their debut in 2022, the brooklyn-based indie rock band Trespasser has been on a relentless journey to reaching a broader audience. Their energetic live shows and powerful dynamics have earned them a stellar reputation within the local scene and beyond. Each show is a unique experience, thanks to the band's willingness to shake things up with improvisational segments. Their latest studio work, 'Wasted Time', is a testament to their ability to translate raw energy into a well-recorded and highly organic track. This release is a fusion of classic elements like country and bluegrass with the fierce impact of punk and indie rock.

The band features five musicians, each bringing something unique to the formula in terms of how their different backgrounds and influences collide. The band aptly combined all of the aforementioned styles and more, merging them into a unique approach they like to call "outlaw scrungle," a really fitting definition to their free, energetic, and raw sound, which still retains a very personal twist.

"Wasted Time" is a really good example of how the band is able to perform with raw energy but also maintain a very melodic dimension, with some personal and understated lyrics that are easy to relate to. The song begins with a simple yet catchy guitar riff, followed by some melodic arpeggios. The main riff is based on the lower strings, creating a throaty, vintage tone that still has plenty of twang to cut through the mix. On the other hand, the arpeggiated parts have a crisp, clearer, and glassier tone that rounds up the guitar sound beautifully. The way the band managed to blend a more aggressive and a softer guitar is truly remarkable, and the song benefits from the crunch/clean dichotomy that makes the chords sound more detailed and harmonically rich. Sometimes, excessive distortion can mask all the nuances of the beautiful interaction between guitars, but in this case, the extra sparkle enables the guitars to feel very detailed and impactful.

The first verse of the song is actually more laid back, with jangly clean guitars and a reprise of the arpeggio with the main riff. This is a perfect way to create varying dynamics, which bring more "peaks and valleys" into the mix. In other words, there is no loud without quiet!

The chorus enables even more variety, with a pleasant chord change and the drums focusing on a faster ride cymbal 8th note pattern to really cut through the guitars and bass. The second verse is more sparse, creating a great contrast with the fullness of the chorus. At first, drums and vocals are the most prominent elements, but the guitars kick in soon after, taking the verse back to its full range and then leading into the chorus. The hooks are memorable yet retain the song's earthy and intimate sound. The layered vocal harmonies are beautifully executed, with the female vocals adding more harmonic depth to the track. The lead vocals bring so much charisma and a natural swagger to the mix, really emphasizing the charming outlaw vibe that makes the band's music so distinctive and impressive. The guitar parts are tastefully executed throughout, maintaining a very natural sound, somewhere in between crunchy and clean. There is also room for a soaring guitar solo, which brings the song's energy to a whole new level and even bleeds into the next chorus, adding some incredibly cool and unexpected notes, as well as some bends that add a raw, jam-like sensibility to the mix. The lead guitar actually continues to meander past the chorus and up to the end of the song, making for a truly energizing and spontaneous vibe, almost as if the band decided to ramp up the energy toward the end of the song to maximize the impact of the closing. In conclusion, this track stands out for its honest spontaneity. It is highly recommended to people who enjoy early Kings Of Leon or Francis Moon, as well as artists such as Lucero and Wilco, but with a punkier, edgier vibe that brings so much depth. The production of "Wasted Time" first makes the song perfect with a more organic sound that seamlessly affirms the band's sense of authenticity. The group did a fantastic job at making sure this recording would feel like a true portrait of the band at its best. "Wasted Time" really feels like the real sound of a band, playing in a room and letting the energy flow with none of the typical artifice you'd encounter in a more polished production.

Find out more about Trespasser, and listen to "Wasted Time" on your favorite digital streaming service.

[thequeenofnightmares]

My new Jurdan fanfic is up!

How The King Of Elfhame Got His First Tattoo.

Jude and Cardan can't keep their hands off each other, and all of their wild antics eventually gives Cardan an idea . . . something that will show the world his devotion to Jude.

—

“Mm—” I bit down on the rest of the sound as Cardan’s tongue grazed the hollow at my throat. His breath was hot on my skin. He was too good at this.

We had been kissing for nearly an hour, having quietly snuck free from the revel happening a few paces away in the woods. His hands had roamed all over me by now. My cheeks were flushed and my lips felt raw, and still I wanted more.

I stifled another sound as Cardan blew a breath into my ear. He was going to keep kissing me like this until I let myself moan, I realized.

I knew he liked when I made noises; and he knew that I would do anything to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing them. This all made for a playful and dangerous game; but, if I was being honest, it was my favorite game to play.

Cardan reached back to twine his fingers in my hair, his other hand toying with the golden kamarband at my bare waist.

It was maybe the most Elfhame outfit I’d ever worn to a revel; my midriff was left exposed, the gold and black embossed bralette that covered my breasts hardly more than a whisper against my skin. My shimmering golden sarong, tied delicately to a large ring of gold on the side of my thigh, was now hitched up scandalously high as Cardan pulled one of my legs up to hook around his waist. His fingers thrummed through the laces of my sandals, tied up high on my calf, as he stroked a finger down my leg.

I might have looked like a woodland sprite, had it not been for the crown of gold atop my head that marked me as Cardan’s Queen.

My queen, he’d called me all night. And, I’ll admit, I rather liked it.

His fingers tickled my skin, trailing across the kamarband, then down, then up, then across again. They left gooseflesh in their wake. I stifled another noise. I could feel his smile against my throat.

His hands were his third favorite things to use to make me act this way. His second was his tongue.

But I had weapons, too. And I also liked to hear his noises.

I moved against him, undulating my hips to match a sway in the music from the revel behind us. He sucked air in through his teeth and pressed his fingers tighter, pulling my leg closer around his waist. His lips moved back to my mouth. I allowed him one deep kiss before lacing my fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and guiding his mouth back to my throat. He obliged me.

With my head thrown back, I breathed heavily a few times to make him think I was going to moan. His body melted against mine, forging itself against me as if he could absorb the sounds he thought I was about to make. He continued his ministrations on my neck, traveling down and up, up and down, more passionately than he had before. Certain that he was about to win.

I smiled, then moved my hand to gently grasp his throat. He was panting as I pushed his head aside. And bit down on his neck.

It was just as hard as he always liked it, and enough that he rasped out a gasping breath before he caught himself from going further.

But I wanted to hear him louder.

—

Read the rest on AO3!

[blackhalee]

✨Repost 💋

Pain and rage are often dismissed as low vibrational, emotions to be transcended or avoided in the pursuit of higher consciousness. But in truth, these feelings are far from lesser; they are sacred, ancestral forces deeply woven into the fabric of our spiritual evolution and our human experience. Pain is the pulse of truth, stripping us bare of illusion, making us face the wounds we’ve buried deep. Rage is the fire that rises from that pain, demanding change, demanding justice. These emotions are not to be feared or suppressed, but revered as sacred messengers—raw, unfiltered, and honest. Our ancestors knew this intimately. They understood that to feel deeply was to be alive, to be awake to the truths that shaped their existence.

In the crucible of Hoodoo, pain and rage were not just emotions to endure; they were powerful tools of alchemy. Our ancestors, enduring unspeakable hardship, took their suffering and transmuted it into power through their spiritual practice. They did not shy away from their rage, nor did they allow it to consume them blindly. Instead, they channeled it into rituals, roots, dances, music and prayers that held their intentions, their healing, and their liberation. Hoodoo is a sacred technology—a means of harnessing these emotions and transforming them into something greater, something that could not only protect them but also empower us.

Through working of roots , through the gathering of herbs, bones, and elements of the earth, our ancestors wove their pain into the very fabric of their survival. They called upon the spirits of the land, the ancestors who walked before them, and the divine forces that sustained them. The bitterness of life, the unyielding oppression, and the burning rage were mixed into roots, oils and waters, turned into tools of remedy and revolution. Pain was not meant to be erased, but honored, acknowledged, and woven into healing. Rage was not meant to destroy blindly but to clear a path toward freedom, to sever the chains that bound them.

Together, pain and rage serve as catalysts for growth, evolution, and liberation. They remind us that to be alive is to feel deeply, to be moved by the injustices of the world and our own suffering. But they also guide us toward a higher understanding, teaching us that from this fire, we can forge new paths, create new ways of being, and cultivate a more authentic, empowered self. Hoodoo became their way of reclaiming sovereignty, of standing in their sacred power despite a world designed to strip it away. The pain of displacement, of violence, of stolen names and stories—these were all made sacred through the act of creation. The rage born from injustice was channeled into protection, into jars filled with petitions for justice, into the roots of plants that would grow strong and untamed, just as they were. Pain and rage became the very fire that fed the rituals, the prayers, the workings that allowed our ancestors to not only survive but thrive in spirit.

To call these emotions low vibrational is to misunderstand their depth and purpose. Pain teaches us to listen to the soul’s cry; rage compels us to rise and demand what is sacred to us. Our ancestors knew that these emotions, when honored and directed, could move mountains, could reshape destinies, and could birth freedom from oppression. Hoodoo, as a living testament to their genius and resilience, shows us how to alchemize these forces into divine power—into magic that can heal, protect, and transform not just the Self but the ALL.

Pain and rage are not to be feared or avoided; they are sacred energies passed down to us, the echoes of our ancestors’ resistance, their love, and their unyielding spirit. In honoring these emotions, we honor them, and we continue the work they began—turning pain into power, rage into liberation, and suffering into sacred transformation.

So the next time these feelings arise in you don’t you DARE let yourself or another convince you that it’s “low vibrational”

#hoodoo

#hoodooheritagemonth

#alchemy

[louehvolution]

What are your impressions about the documentary?

Thanks for asking, anon! Going on press, clips, and talk from other fans, but there is a lot out there, so.

I wonder would it lead a person who isn’t a fan to Spotify / iTunes / Ticketmaster? Worth noting other artists time their documentaries around a new album or single release. Will it convince them he’s a good artist or just that he’s popular with a limited demographic? But even if it has the potential to make people interested in his music… who will watch besides fans? Let's see when and where it streams, and if it's promoted at all. The one interview to introduce the project was the last thing that would inspire someone to watch. All this talk about setting the story straight—the same story he has been telling since 2017 but OK—and defying expectations, but LTHQ is the one who has continually served him up to be belittled as an artist and exposed in his personal life?

Then, look at this review: 'Do you have to be a fan of his music? Not at all. Can you still admire the way his personhood is portrayed? Of course. And this film captures that in abundance.' Equally someone who sees him on Lorraine or DM might like him and wish him the best while still not believing in him as an artist and having no interest in his music. The documentary obviously isn’t personhood detached from the music as promo has frequently been over the years, but I get the impression it could have been more effective showcasing Louis the artist and the music.

Related to this, there has forever been this element of tying Louis deserving success or being a fan of him to his personal life. As though he couldn’t sell music and be recognized as an artist without an inspirational story. For me being a good son, brother, father, friend... is separate from the fact that he is a good singer, songwriter, performer. In any case, while going from ‘And then there’s me…’ to ‘I feel worthy now’ is a good underdog tale in theory, actually he’s been stuck in a position of having to prove he’s deserving of success, or rather a minimum of respect as an artist for seven years. Because his team repeated the questioning part again and again, perpetuating doubts planted since 1D in people’s minds about his talent, his ‘worthiness’ as a successful artist, but never paired it with the answer: the resounding yes it deserved, and the proof of it. His team continues to not push his music, and what Charlie said is true, that Louis is at a point a lot of artists never get to, but also… success isn’t one and done, and you can’t take a fanbase for granted. And regardless of numbers, what artist doesn’t want his music heard?

Finally, all documentaries call themselves raw and unvarnished, show an artist balancing superstardom with normal life, etc. There is a formula. Once again, for all that Charlie claims it’s not a ‘promotional piece’ it is presenting an edited version of reality. It can be honest but it is a movie, and I don’t like how it encourages fans in their obsession over his personal life and people around him. I’ve seen fanvids of Freddie already. And I will wonder at someone who values his common people upbringing and has a complicated relationship with fame not ensuring his son's childhood is private. Hallmark fatherhood of kites in the sunset and matching trainers won’t stop me from wondering why he moved to UK with his dog and girlfriend in 2017 instead of living full time in LA when he didn’t tour until 2020/22. And these are things one can question while believing it’s real. But anyway. His isolation from his peers also seems glaring in the documentary? He seems to exist in as much of a bubble as his career. But, it is what it is. Looking forward to tour :’)

[emilycollins00]

Emilyyyyy!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖 Hi hehe uwu

Could I request Yuki and Taichi (separately) with a reader who likes fashion but gets insecure with certain clothes, thinking they couldn't pull them off? Whether it's platonic or romantic doesn't matter since either is fine ^^ Hope you have a great day Emily!! (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ✨✨✨ Sorry if the request is a bit vague qwq

Of course you can!! 💕 Not vague at all, it was really a really nice writing experience! I didn’t specify the type of clothes or the relationship, so anyone can go for it.

Please enjoy!

Fashion conversations (Yuki and Taichi x reader)

Yuki

“Are you going to try it?”

“Y-yuki!” You barely contain a scream, unconsciously hiding the piece of clothing behind your back. He watches you unimpressed, although you are sure it must seem off for you to act this jumpy. You had come together shopping after all. “What’s up?” you smile, and he raises an eyebrow. You know you couldn’t fool him, but appearing distracted was always an option. Lucky for you, it works.

“I’ve been calling you for a while, you know. I found the accessories I wanted.”

“Oh! Let’s go see them then.”

The green haired boy hums, however his eyes are now fixed on the rest of the clothes hanging behind you. “That’s a good color. Are these from the new collection?” he asks, and touches their fabric.

Your nerves pick up, asking you to leave. “Seems like it!” you place the clothes you had back again on their hanger. “Too expensive though. Maybe when sales come.”

You don’t like to lie, especially to Yuki. But you don’t have the guts to say out loud what your mind told you.

That you are not fit for those clothes.

And you hate it, because fashion is... actually a somewhat comfort of yours. You love trends, talking about clothes, styling them, and using them to express yourself, and it makes you overwhelmed that for these specific clothes your actions always contradicted your thoughts. Like part of you was simply okay with having them between your hands, imagining a version of you where they actually looked good enough.

“Since when was that a problem? If you like them you should just try them now.”

"We came for your accessories though."

"So? I wouldn't have asked you to come if I were in a hurry."

You feel like Yuki is being more persistent than usual, but maybe it’s just your desire to leave. “It’s fine.” You insist and glance at the clothes. You shake your head. “In any case, I don’t think they— “

“Don’t tell me you’re going to say they wouldn’t look good on you or something stupid like that.”

You press your lips together. You adored Yuki, but sometimes he was too honest and raw with his choice of words.

“I like it.” He continues looking at the clothes, and tilts his head turning to you. “It’s different from what you usually wear.”

You don’t know where to look. “I guess.”

There’s a moment of silence, the background music feeling in for both of you. You know by now he’s picked up the situation, he’s far too smart not to. Also for best or worse, knows you too much as well.

“You know no one is going to judge you, Y/N.”

“I know.” You say that too quick. “I know. I just… still feel embarrassed, for some reason.”

This time the summer member does frown, mostly confused. “Why?”

As you watch him cross his arms, waiting for the answer, there’s a pinch of pain and annoyance rising within you. Maybe jealousness even. In any case you hate the feeling, because you know he didn’t mean it like that. “You can pull of anything Yuki.” You start talking. You open your arm, gesturing the rows of clothes surrounding you two. “And it looks great, okay? No matter what you wear. And— I’m not saying this because I’m comparing myself to you, but this?” you turn to the clothes. You pick them up and hold them with both hands again. Your voice falters as you low your head and look at them. “This” you repeat. “I feel like I shouldn’t even try.”

Yuki stares at you. You don’t say anything. A few couples and groups of friends walk by, laughing, hands with bags. “Because you’re uncomfortable?” he finally ask.

You shrug. Not really. “It… doesn’t feel right.”

“What doesn't?”

You lift your head and blink. Now you are too occupied trying to make sense without getting angry. “What do you mean what— wearing this! It would look better on you or—  I don’t know! Literally anyone else.”

“So if you saw them on let’s say, someone from my dorm, you would like it.”

“Sure.”

“Without thinking anything of it.”

“Yes!” you raise your arms exasperated.

“So there are clothes made for everyone except you? Don’t you think it’s weird?”

You open your mouth to contradict him, but you don’t know how to phrase it other than what it was already said. You had never had expectations for others— you had seen people of all shapes and sizes rock the hell out of this clothe before and loved the way they looked.

But you?

“Those people... aren’t me.” You say, hoping to end the discussion. You could easily look at another person objectively and see how beautiful and stylish they looked, but your relationship with yourself regarding these particular clothes always came with complications.

“Look,” Yuki doesn’t want to argue. But this topic was too close to home for him to evade it. Specially coming from you. “I’m no psychologist. But there’s no harm in going out of your comfort zone sometimes. There are no wardrobe rules, Y/N.”

“Challenging your rules and insecurities isn’t an easy thing to do.” He continues, seeing you didn’t retort to his statement. His orange eyes speak from experience. “But if you like something hanging on a rack or hanger, instead of writing it off, try to try it on. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that the only thing you need to do to pull off a look is to wear it. Your confidence will catch up eventually.”

“Sounds easier said than done.”

Yuki shrugs. It was what it was, and he wasn’t one for sugar-coating things. “See what happens when you do, forgetting everyone else. For what it’s worth, I think you would look more than good wearing them.” The summer member turns to the formed queue for the cashier and then again turns back to you. “I’m going to grab the accessories. See you at the entrance when you are done.”

He walks away, leaving you and your thoughts alone, running back and forth for a while in your head, conflicted. Your mouth becomes a firm line as you weigh the options and his words, clenching on the clothes. You take a deep breath.

You hoped your confidence picked up speed.

.

.

.

For all the time you believe he’s been waiting, Yuki doesn’t complain about it.

He also doesn’t comment or applaud when he sees a shopping bag hanging from your arm.

“I still need to pass by the sewing store as well. That money-grabbing yakuza made me promise to wait only for when there’s a discount.” He complains remembering one of their multiple arguments. He looks to you. “Do you have time?”

You nod.

None of you say anything else, heading to the shop while making conversation about the fabrics, as usual. After a while and just before you enter the shop, Yuki suddenly grabs your hand and squeezes it.

It’s pretty quick. One small squeeze and a fast release. A Yuki way of saying I'm proud of you, by the way. The action makes your chest jump.

You hope in the future you would be too.

Because today wasn’t to say your insecurities were going to vanish when you began dressing in the clothes resting on your bag, but it was definitely a pretty big step towards feeling better about yourself.

Taichi

“Man I love thrift stores! Do you think I should take this jacket too, Y/N? It’s big but I hope I can grow— Oh wait this one’s cooler!”

You walk behind Taichi amused, infected with the enthusiasm the autumn member exuded. Of course, the fact that you had been asked to come along for your opinion regarding fashion made you feel somewhat pleased as well.

“Take both for now, we can see them better where there’s more light... and we should really have you try all the clothes you have chosen so far. We can take another look later around the shop afterward. Your arms must be getting tired.”

The redhead who was still gushing over the amount of pockets the new-found jacket had stared at his arms and blinked. Indeed, they were practically non-existent due to all the trousers, sweatshirts and jackets covering them. “Oh yeah! Didn’t even notice! Let’s see, the changing rooms were…”

Once he’s inside one of them you decide to take a small walk around the place while waiting, humming happily. You remember Yuki mentioning this shop to you a while ago but hadn’t been able to visit until now, which was crazy honestly, given how often you went shopping around Veludo. You let your hand caress distractedly the rows of hung clothes when your eyes notice a specific item. You stop and stare at it for a few seconds, before slowly taking it out of the hanger.

Your fingers dance through the fabric slowly. They turn the clothes around and you conclude it might even be your size, but that’s as far as you go. You begin to put it back into place. You would never be able to—

“Wow, that would look awesome on you!”

You find an excited Taichi running towards you from behind. He’s wearing some of the chosen clothes. “Are you going to try it?” he asks eagerly.

“Not sure yet.” You manage to say casually before focusing on him. “Turn around?”

Motivated, he proceeds to do a slow turn so you can see the back as well as the sides.

“What do you think?” he says as you both go back to the changer. He looks again at his reflection in the mirror and begins making a few poses. “I feel really cool!”

You chuckle and nod. Bright colors like the ones he had chosen were really like him. “Looks good to me too. Though the trousers look a bit short, don’t they? Do you feel comfortable?” you tilt your head.

“Yup! I saw this style on some magazines and I’ve wanted to try them for a while! I know they are not really in right now but…”

“Not at all! If you like them go for it.”

The answer makes Taichi beam. “All right, then this combo is secured!”

You both spend quite a while in the shop long afterward, and you have to commit to Taichi. You had lost count of how many things he had tried at this point. And while you look around some more, waiting for him, there are a few times you can’t help but walk by the rack where those first clothes were.

You don’t really know why you do it, since everytime feels like a pinch to the stomach.  

“Are you really not going to try it? You seem to like it a lot.” Taichi suddenly asks during his last change of clothes.

“Uh?”

“You know, that?” He points with his head to where the clothes rest. “You have been looking at them all this time.”

It’s an innocent comment, but it still makes you flustered to have been this obvious. “Nah.” You dismiss the idea, heart picking up pace. “I don’t think it’s going to be good on me.” Your eyes travel through Taichi’s current sweatshirt. You hum, resting your hands on your hips. “Personally I think it’s a bit too big on you Taichi, the cut of the shoulder doesn’t end with yours and…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well because it gives the sense that your shoulders— “

“No, I meant," he tilts his head curiously. "Why wouldn’t they look good on you? Are they too small?”

“Oh.” You blink. “No, well. It’s because— You know. It’s too good. It’s going to be wasted on me.” You try to joke. You don’t have the confidence to wear it. Never had for those specific clothes.

“Are you kidding? I think it’d look amazing!” You are quick to begin to deny it, but the redhead is a bit too set on the idea for some reason. “Come on!” he insists grabbing the clothes and pushing you towards his own changing room before you can think otherwise.

“T-Taichi!”

“You have helped me lots today, you should try something too and enjoy it!” he grins.

.

.

.

You take a long, deep sigh inside the changing room. You can’t believe you actually gave in to his pleas— or maybe you did it just to stop the uncomfortable situation. In any case, you are now wearing them and as expected, you don’t know how to feel. You haven’t even turned around and looked in the mirror.

“Are you done? Can I see?” Taichi asks from outside after a while.

Because you have always loved this type of clothes. But it didn’t feel right. Of course you know it’s your insecurities talking, but the thought of showing it to Taichi -to anyone really- made you feel embarrassed.

“Y/N?”

You groaned to yourself. Coming face-to-face with things you didn’t like about yourself always left you feeling defeated.

You sigh, counting to three before you open the curtain and bite your lip. Luckily it was a weekday, so there weren’t many clients around the shop. You shrug once you make eye contact with the autumn actor not knowing what to say. Taichi however irradiates enough energy for both of you.

“I like it!" he compliments happily. "It’s different from what you usually wear!”

Exactly. “Yeah, well— I’m going to change now.” You smile. “You can go ahead and pay.”

“What? You are not going to buy it?”

"No."

"Why? You look..."

“Taichi please stop saying that!” you interrupt. His eyes falter at your tone. You feel bad for it, but right now you just want him to quit it. To stop saying they looked on good. “I’m not... fitted for these clothes,” you mutter, and begin to head back to change.

“W-wait, Y/N!” you sigh and turn to him, although you don't know why. He scratches the back of his head. “I don’t have the sense you or Yuki-chan have with clothes but… I do I say it…” He crosses his arms and frowns in concentration. “Ah!” Suddenly his eyes snap open. “You told me the trousers I got were too short before, right?”

“Uh, yeah… but that was my opinion so…”

“And then you said if I liked them I should take them!”

“I did. But that’s because you felt comfortable with them. I don’t.”

“See but that’s because you haven’t worn them before!” he points to the clothes. “I get it! Wearing a dress and a wig in one of our first autumn plays back at the time felt weird at first, but it was actually nice the more I wore it, you know? Even the others said I passed by as a real girl!”

“Uhm.” You knew he really was doing his best to prove a point… in his very Taichi-like way. So you didn’t comment on it.

“What I mean is,” he continues. “Challenging your rules and insecurities isn’t an easy thing but if you like those clothes enough or are interested in them… who cares if you pull it off or not? I mean, you can take all the time you want to get used to them, right?" You frown a bit, processing the words.

You bite your lip and finally for the first time, look at the mirror to see yourself. You take everything. Then you turn again to Taichi. You didn't know what to do.

"Of course all that is just my opinion!" he says quickly, noticing your indecision. "I'll support anything you do. Oh, and if someone says anything bring them on! I’ll have a real talk with them!"

That does make you smile.

"

.

.

.

Before you know it, you two are leaving the shop. Taichi with hands full of bags and you with only one. You stare at it in trance.

You really had done it. Your stomach felt funny.

“You did it!” he exclaims next to you. “Man, you are so cool Y/N.”

You let out a laugh, feeling really close to crying. Taichi supporting you had been nothing new, but the situation was. He felt proud and happy for you. And if he did, maybe the choice was good enough.

“I don’t know about cool but… thanks.” You mean it.

“Of course!” He smiled happily, unaware— or maybe not so unaware. You had learned to give Taichi more credit than he gave himself. He had a way of reassuring people of their own negative perceptions like you had never seen someone do. “I know!” his voice brought your back. “We should go to that place Ban-chan told me just opened to celebrate!”

You shake your head amused. You are about to say he was making a bigger deal than what it was, but you stop yourself. Today was the first time you had actually fought back against your insecurities and won, and hopefully, that will make every battle after that a little bit easier and easier as time passed.

“Sure. Lead the way then.”

So you had all the right to celebrate and feel happy with yourself.

___________________________________________________________

Wishing you all a wonderful day! 💕

[chorusfm]

Highly Suspect – “The 8th Of October (To August 17th)” (Song Premiere)

Today is a great day to share the new single from Highly Suspect called “The 8th Of October (To August 17th).” The track comes from the band’s forthcoming LP As Above, So Below that will be released on July 19th. The band is about to embark on a sold out U.S. tour this summer, and is looking forward to testing out their new material. If you’re enjoying the early listen to the new single, please consider pre-saving As Above, So Below here. I was also able to catch up with Highly Suspect’s front-man, Johnny Stevens, for a brief interview below. Can you share the inspiration behind “The 8th of October (To August 17th)”? What significance do these dates hold for the band? Yeah of course! Essentially this song is about two different people. In the first half I’m singing to my ex and in the second half I’m singing to the woman who snapped me out of a really dark place and taught me how to love again. It probably takes a couple listens but eventually that will be an easy thing to discern if you’re digging into the lyrics. The dates are pretty simple, like the song says, “The last time I saw you was the 8th of October-” and that’s that. I’m describing the tear filled and painful day I walked away from my ex for the last time. We hadn’t even broken up yet, I had to get back on tour though and we both knew without having to say anything that it was over. I still have nightmares about that day. Many tears were shed.. and would continue to fall for almost a year. Lo and behold August 17th of 2023 came around and I would meet someone who would change my life forever. This is who the second half of the song is sung about. So, This period in between these two dates were some of the most fucked up times I’ve had this decade. It was dark, but I pulled through. This is why I wanted to put a really hopeful and triumphant instrumental on the end of the song to help lift that weight off. I’m Happy now! For the most part anyway.. at least happier. That song kind of closes the album in my mind. It finishes the main story… the ACTUAL last track on the album is more of a modern hidden bonus reprise to a lesson that continues to show its face at different stages of my life. Perhaps it sets up the next chapter. How do you balance raw energy and introspection in your music, particularly in this single? Sheesh, I don’t know…lol…as best as I can? I wish I could say I knew what I was doing or how I was doing it but it’s purely feeling. I just write based off of what I think feels and sounds good. So, in this case I really needed to admit that I didn’t deserve my ex. She was an Angel. Absolutely way too good for me in so many ways, and I was just an asshole If I’m being real. I was so self-absorbed, and I wasn’t patient. I have no excuse for this.. I could try and blame this or that, the pandemic or whatever but the reality is I just wasn’t happy with myself, or my life and I was too stupid to realize I had a pure love in my life. Constantly suspicious of this or that, constantly scared I was gonna get fucked over, and so I had this natural defense up and rather than give my true happy funny normal self I was cold and selfish. I really let this person down as a human and it haunts me. Like fully fully haunts me. I guess the silver lining here was that she learned she needs to be treated better than what I was capable of, and I learned a LOT about myself and how to not be a jerk. I realized only after we split up just how much I need love in my life and how dangerous things get for me when I don’t have someone to ground me. I hate admitting that it took me 37 years to become a man, but I have to be real with myself otherwise I’ve learned nothing. Now I’m 38 and I feel pretty fucking rock solid to be honest. I’m not where I want to be yet fully as a human, but I’m pretty confident that I’m making forward progress instead of destructive anti-progress. So yeah, I guess you take all that and if you’re being 100% raw then you couldn’t not have the… https://chorus.fm/features/highly-suspect-the-8th-of-october-to-august-17th-song-premiere/

[vermutandherring]

Warning: This article contains descriptions of death and images of blood.

The first part of the review: ORIGINS The second part of the review: THE PLOT

There are small spoilers that do not reveal the plot of the game, but only separately highlight certain moments in the game.

In my opinion, of all the arts, theater holds on to its academic base the strongest. We see a lot of bad painting, just as much sculpture, listen to even more bad music. But I have never seen a bad performance. Being completely honest, I visited only world classics. But agree: in order for the work to evoke emotions, it must be correctly played by modern actors. Sitting in the front row of Vampyr, I had a strange feeling from the first minutes. This state, as if everything is fine, but you do not feel completely satisfied with what you see. It was clear that the game was trying to be poetic. Jonathan's dramatic speech and the visual scene of his transformation into a vampire are reminiscent of a poem. Laconic but eloquent form, good means of expression and incredible power of the actor's voice. I love lyrics. But at the beginning of the scene I feel awkward. After playing the game, when I was making screenshots for my reviews, I started the game over. The second time, I no longer had this feeling of mild-cringe. I think the biggest reason for that was the visual part - animated cutscenes, to be more precise. Why was such a strange style chosen to tell certain moments of the story? Perhaps the experience of working on the previous project of the Life is Strange developers with a more stylized design showed itself here. It also obviously simplifies the production process and reduces production costs and time. But I didn't like this modernization of the vampire story, because it looks more like raw sketches.

At one time, I was impressed by the way of storytelling in Yakuza. Periodically, we see shots in which the characters are static, but not completely frozen. We hear them talking, but their mouths don't move. Only text and visual 'graphic' effects. In fact, this is a method borrowed from comics or manga, if we are talking about a Japanese game. Yakuza isn't the only game to use this technique though (Bayonetta seems to have a similar tool). But it looks quite organic in a bunch with realistic graphics, unlike Vampyr. Here, these static frames are replaced by artworks. I am not saying that they are bad. They just stand out from the general atmosphere for me.

Oh, what an atmosphere! The smell of baked blood and dry half-decomposed bodies, the suffocating ash of burnt flesh and the crunch of bare bones. What a strange place to be born again! Thirst. Thirst torments all of us from the first seconds of birth. It is so insatiable that it blinds your eyes. And like a blind kitten, overcoming terror, he goes to its call to take a sip that will bring the desired comfort. But no. His soul will not rest. Pain and anger, guilt and despair of loss - this is what brings with it the long-awaited quenching of thirst. This is the price of being a vampire. And now we have to guide our hero along this path.

I like the beginning of the story. It resembles a climax taken from Shakespeare. In Jonathan's life journey, the role change was indeed a turning point. In the past - a brilliant doctor who once saved lives with his reinvention of blood transfusion. And now - a cursed creature that has to drink blood to save its own life. The creator of our main character claims that death is not God's punishment, but a gift. If so, why from the first minutes we appear in all the tragic before our new gift? God level drama. But Jonathan does not believe in divine providence, he relies on his own mind and believes in the power of science. Because at the moment when humanity raised its hands in supplicating prayer to God, religion betrayed them, leaving them in the vortex of voracious disease.

The game continues to use the game space as a theater stage in cutscenes. The characters are emotional, their speeches are full of drama and have well-accented intonations, complemented by an accent. The figures are arranged in the frame as if in a well-organized performance, and the angles create the impression that we are really in the first row of the parterre. The same feeling is observed in the usual dialogues with the characters, when the camera is directed from behind Jonathan's back to the interlocutor, as if we are watching the action. This fourth wall is broken by the game itself in the section where you enter directly into the theater. Your fight with the boss and the conversation take place on the theater stage, among the red curtains and the remains of the velvet decoration.

I think that when starting to write a story, we all at some point have the desire to choose a distant era, filled with the rumble of carriages and the rustle of long hems. For vampire works, England of the 19th and 20th centuries is generally like a forbidden fruit - you really want to touch it. Dark streets, cold brick of Gothic cathedrals and the Thames bathed in moonlight. England is such an obvious place for the development of your good story that at one time the developers of the game Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One transferred Sherlock Holmes, the most English character, from the streets of his native London to a fictional island called Cordona. It was a very good move, I must say.

But Vampyr does not need to resort to such tricks. The entourage of London drowned in chaos suits the story and is its addition, not just a pretty background. By 'pretty' I mean well-executed, atmospheric enough to immerse yourself in the game, and with good, intuitive level design. Because 'beauty' is not the word that can be applied to this nocturnal horror of dirty streets and ragged houses that create a miserable appearance. Quarantine reminders and posters with calls to join the army are hung on the walls and doors, littered with junk. I'm sure Jonathan had wild flashbacks every time I stopped to read them. In short, I like the forlorn look of Greater London with its gloomy silhouettes of houses against the night sky.

You can even see the silhouette of Tower Bridge

Again, returning to the visual component. I don't know how authentic the developers tried to make them. But like the inserts in the cutscenes, they stand out from the general context, seeming too modern for the beginning of the 20th century. In my article about how games introduced me to art, I mentioned a few words about the paintings in Lady Ashbury's castle. In one of the conversations with Jonathan, not wanting to fully reveal her age, she says that she can be found on the canvases of great masters. In particular, these are Vincent Van Gogh and Jan Vermeer. I don't know whether it was by chance or specifically that the artist logically included the works in-between the works of these artists. For example, we know that Vermeer, the master of the genre scenes, painted only one portrait in his entire life - Girl with a Pearl Earring. Let's not talk about all the theories of creation, because in this context it is not important. The date of creation is important - 1665 - 1667, the late period of artist's creativity. Vermeer's portrait of Elizabeth was painted in 1666, that is, in the same time period. The picture in the game is written in a free manner. The image has the appearance of a sketch and tends more towards DaVinci's sfumato technique, besides, it has a strange and uncomfortable perspective. It is very surprising for a representative of Dutch painting, whose artists have always been famous for canvases written to the smallest detail. At that time, the public simply would not have understood a work in such a technique. This is exactly what happened to Rembrandt, who, due to his new painting style, was left without clients, poor and forgotten at the end of his life.

I forgot to take a screenshot of Van Gogh's work. I think the website where I found this picture made a mistake in the date, because the year 1666 is also indicated there. With regard to the painting technique, here we also see only an imitation of the form with a complete disregard for the content.

The same applies to the work in which Lady Ashbury is depicted with her lover Lord J. Blackwood. You won't see this type of portrait on 18th century canvases, where a full-length couple is walking against a blank wall. I don't see the slightest need for Elizabeth to be portrayed by famous artists. In the same article about art in games, I gave an example of games that successfully quote art or individual works. Vampyr's attempt to do this feels misguided. These works do not have any symbolism, do not fit with the plot and are carelessly made. I see only one benefit from them - they emphasize that Lady Ashbury is a typical Mary Sue.

Elizabeth is perfect from start to finish: a mysterious red-haired vampire who captivates the main character immediately after several meetings. She is so ancient and, moreover, incredibly charming that she's on the canvases of great masters (unexpectedly). She is noble and rich, has a talent for painting, restrains her thirst (because she is not some vampire, but a proud ekon), and is also important to the plot. But if she were a person in another work under different conditions, her role in the plot and influence on it would not change at all. Because her character does not move the plot in any way, and is practically not revealed during it. However, if Lady Ashbury has any virtues that are completely irrelevant to the story, the game will let you know about it. At some point, she simply becomes the central protagonist, around whom everything revolves, like the Sun revolves around the Earth in the heretic's imagination.

Jonathan has no reason to have feelings for her, and their romance has no reason to exist. This relationship between the mentor and the student does not develop in any way, does not undergo significant tests that could bring the characters closer. Her image generally resonates with a bunch of heroines in novels of the 19th century, where the characters are beautiful only for some imaginary purity, care, fragility and masculine determination, 'uncharacteristic of the feminine'. The two-day marathon of Dracula reminded me again why I no longer touch fiction unnecessarily. Endless descriptions of heavy sighs, exhausted faces of ladies, their awe-inspiring looks, gentle voices, easy naivety and wisdom. They do absolutely nothing, but only need male guardianship, in order to eventually reach the hero as the main prize for all his suffering. Take away Lady Ashbury's fangs and her title, and she's no different from Mina Harker.

I like absolutely every female character more than the charming vampire Lady Ashbury, about whom everyone speaks with such piety that I want to shrink away from all that with a crucifix. While browsing the Internet, I came across a comment that Lady Ashbury has that same vampiric charm that makes you immediately fall in love with a heroine who doesn't put any effort into it. Vampire charm is a concoction of modern pop culture that romanticizes ancient sponger pests. I don't see any sense in this, because instead of a complex personality, we get an absolutely flat image of a beautiful lover who can live forever at the pleasure of its beloved. In Le Fanu and Stoker, this 'charm' is the embodiment of sin, everything carnal, forbidden by religion and modern morality. That is why Carmilla and the transformed Lucy captivate others without making an effort. Because they are the personification of lust, living human passion and desire. Lady Ashbury is just a log against their background.

Nevertheless, I cannot say unequivocally that Lady Ashbery is a spoonful of tar in this beautiful story. At some points, the game finds justification for her virtues, her penchant for charity and painting. But it happens too late. The end of the story, which finally reveals Lady Ashbery, does not impress and does not make (at least personally) sympathize with her and her fate. In the whole situation, her father seems more of a victim than his long-suffering daughter. This remorse, this wringing of hands and dramatic speeches about one's own guilt… All this tired me even when I read Dracula and once again related Ashbery to Harker for me. Although Mina's help in the development of the plot is still incomparably greater than the fluttering of Elizabeth's soul.

Against the background of the gray figure of Lady Ashbury, the character of Mary is much more interesting and meaningful. The first minutes of the game, so sorrowful and filled with regret, stretch for us for the first couple of chapters, and for Jonathan - for the rest of his existence. She reminded me of my own thoughts when I tried to imagine what it would be like to live forever. When the terrible pain of losing the closest people remains with you until the end of time. When you constantly accumulate past mistakes that can neither be corrected nor forgotten. How memories of the betrayal of a loved one eat away the remnants of common sense, turning you into a monster. Mary's story arc is interesting, it really is imbued with that gothic and mysterious flair found in the works of Le Fanu and Stoker. The tragic nature of her image raises a natural question: is eternal life really better than one-time death? Is it worth going through hell again and again, or is it better to end the torment instantly? I cannot despise her even after what she has done, because we all want inner peace. But in Vampyr you have to pay dearly for this peace.

And while Mary's character is great in that respect, her reveal also makes me a little sad. Everything happens too quickly, too hastily, pulling on some dubious motives. Mary throws her motives in our faces in an instant, and instead of being pleasantly enlightened by the truth after a long investigation, all I can say is 'Oh. Wow… Poor thing'. Unlike the rest of the main characters, you don't get to decide what Jonathan should do with his sister. And maybe it's for the best. As I already noted in the first part of the review, in those cases where you have a choice, you want to do the most 'right' thing without hurting anyone. And often you only do worse, being burned by your own desire to do justice. Mary still deserved mercy, no matter how cruel it was. After all, as Dr. Van Helsing said, "But if the most blessed of all, when this now UnDead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady … shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilation of it by day, she shall take her place with the other Angels".

It would be possible to talk a little more about other key characters, talk about side characters, complain about the monotonous design of buildings and premises. But I advise you to try it yourself and form a personal impression of this wonderful game, despite all its flaws. I can also mention the music separately. I know absolutely nothing about music. But an ordinary player does not need it. After all, a well-made work can evoke clear and understandable emotions subconsciously. The compositions perfectly support the general tone of the game, emphasize the right moments and set their own intonations. The deep sound of the cello sings in unison with the gloomy atmosphere and mood of the characters. Modern notes are also heard in the compositions. But unlike drawn inserts, they do not spoil the work, but really modernize the story.

That concludes the Vampyr review. It was very exhausting and I'm not sure I'll ever do such a detailed review of a game like I'm writing a research paper. And although a lot was left out (for example, the sources of inspiration of the developers), I covered all the aspects that I wanted to. I may still do a review on Vampire The Masquerade, but it won't happen anytime soon.

[the-vixxen]

No, Lana Del Rey's Music Is Not Anti-Feminist: A Defense of Female Vulnerability

Lana Del Rey, the enigmatic songstress known for her dreamy melodies and haunting lyrics, has been a subject of controversy and criticism within feminist circles throughout the years. Critics have accused her music of perpetuating anti-feminist ideals and romanticizing female submission. The Vixxen, dear reader, has to disagree.

Now this may be old news, but it was a phenomenon that always intrigued me. And as I intend this blog to be about the female experience, giving voice to our longings, something Lana has made a career of, I believe this is the perfect subject matter to do so.

In this blog post, I aim to defend Lana Del Rey's creative process, arguing that it is a powerful exploration of the female experience through fantasy, delving into themes of longing, and desire.

Fantasy as a Means of Exploration

Lana Del Rey's music is a rich tapestry of fantasy and nostalgia, providing a safe space for listeners to explore complex emotions. Rather than adhering to the politically correct notion of feminism, she chooses to delve into the darker, more mysterious aspects of the female psyche. This approach allows women to confront their own vulnerabilities and desires without judgment.

Authenticity Over Girl Power Branding

It’s no secret that feminism is continuously commodied for profit. Women in power abusing said power and masking their exploitation behind a false veneer of empowerment has even become a meme by now. In this onslaught of kitschy phrases and empty slogans on t-shirts made by children in third world countries, Lana is an honest breath of fresh air. Her music does not brand itself as a platform for girl power or empowerment slogans. Instead, it offers a raw and unfiltered portrayal of female pain, longing, and the quest for love. Her willingness to showcase these emotions without sugar-coating them resonates with many women who appreciate this genuine exploration of their inner worlds.

Exploring the Need for Male Validation

 Lana Del Rey's music fearlessly delves into the complex psychological phenomenon of seeking male validation. Rather than dismissing this aspect of female experience, she provides a space for women to confront and understand it. Her songs reflect the inner conflicts and contradictions that many women grapple with in a world where societal norms often dictate their worth through male approval.

In Lana's Words: Addressing the Criticism

Another point of contention is the accusation that Lana glamorizes female submission. But isn't there a distinction between exploring a concept through an artistic lens and glorifying them? Lana Del Rey's music provides a space for women who’ve often found themselves on the submissive end of gendered power dynamics to reflect on their own feelings, even the ones that may be considered less "empowering" by societal standards. 

Something Lana said, that was completely misconstrued and taken out of context to the extent it was used to frame her as a racist was “There has to be a place in feminism for women who look and act like me - the kind of women who are slated mercilessly for being their authentic, delicate selves.”

Along with her mention of other female artists, this was misconstrued as an attack on women of color. Though I’ll remind you that Ariana, a white woman, is mentioned alongside the others. If most of the women mentioned happened to be women of color that is simply because they tend to dominate the genre. Many comments called out that women who look like her- white and conventionally attractive, have not been historically excluded from feminist discourse. 

This would have been a valid point- had this been a different conversation altogether. The statement Lana Del Rey makes in this is not a racial one, but an identifier of feminine traits that are often seen as indicators of weakness by misogynists and feminists alike (and wrongly so!). These feminine traits can and do apply to women across racial identities and cultural demographics.

Lana Del Rey's music is a testament to the power of authentic vulnerability and artistic exploration. It allows women to engage with their deepest desires, insecurities, and romanticized longings without judgment or the confines of mainstream feminist branding. By dismissing the pressures of pandering to a "girlboss" culture, Lana creates a unique space for women to embrace their vulnerabilities. Her music provides an escape into a world of dreams and fantasies, a contrast to the harsh reality of how women are often perceived and treated. In a world that often demands conformity, Lana Del Rey remains a bold and unapologetic voice for those who appreciate her sincere exploration of the complexities of the female experience.

I you agree, if you respectfully disagree, leave a comment down below. This is my first post and hopefully its given you a snapshot of the kind of subjects I am interested in exploring. If these subject matters interest you, consider following my content <3

Signing off, xoxo

~The Vixxen

[sweethoneyrose83]

It was a boring Saturday afternoon. A cover of Creep by FKA Reyne played through the speakers of Velvet's room in the apartment. William reclined against the headboard, taking up most of the space with his lanky frame while watching Velvet scroll mindlessly through her phone. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, with the gray, rain-streaked sky outside mirroring the somber mood inside.

"Anything exciting?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, as he reached for his pack of cigarettes and flicked the lighter to life. A plume of smoke drifted up towards the ceiling, carrying with it the weight of his ennui.

Velvet shook her head, a small frown tugging at her lips. "Just the usual," she responded, her tone monotone. "Social media drama, mundane news... The world's a mess, and I'm just here observing from the trenches."

She glanced over at William, her gray eyes reflective in the dim light. "You don't seem much enthused either," she observed, her voice a gentle murmur. "It's like the whole world is just... gray, you know?"

William took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he contemplated her words. He set the burning stick aside, the ember casting a flickering glow on his pale skin.

"Sometimes, when you stare into the abyss long enough," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, "the abyss stares back, and it just feels... pointless."

He met Velvet's gaze, his gray eyes locking with her lavender ones, for a long, charged moment. The air between them was charged with an unspoken understanding.

"You know," William continued, his voice a low murmur, "I find solace in the darkness. It's where I feel most at home... Like I can be myself, without the burden of expectations or facades."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he studied Velvet, his fingers idly picking at the threads of the worn comforter. "I guess that's why I'm drawn to you, despite your unconventional nature. There's a darkness in you too, Velvet. A beauty in your twisted desires that calls to me like a siren's song."

His words were laced with raw honesty, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. The confession hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the dark attraction that bound them together. "I've never been one for happy endings or fairy tales, but with you... I'm starting to wonder if maybe that's not such a bad thing after all."

William's gaze never wavered from Velvet's, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited her response, the weight of their twisted connection palpable in the stillness of the room. Velvet laid her head on his chest, settling against his broad chest, finding a comfortable rest on his pale skin. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer, and stroked her minty green hair in a gentle, soothing motion.

"It's alright, my queen," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. "Sometimes, we just need to acknowledge the shadows within us... Embrace them, even. That's where true freedom lies."

As he spoke, William's hand continued its tender caress, his fingers tangling in Velvet's silky locks. The rhythm of his breath evened out, a sense of peace settling over him in the wake of their raw, honest conversation.

"In you, I've found a partner in darkness," he whispered, his lips brushing against the top of her head. "Someone who understands the beauty in the broken, the twisted... The parts of us we hide from the world."

With Velvet snuggled against him, William felt a sense of contentment wash over him, a rare feeling that he associated with home. At that moment, with the music humming softly in the background and the rain pattering against the windows, he knew that whatever the future may hold, he'd face it with Velvet by his side – his dark queen, his soulmate in sin.

[musicarenagh]

Joe Bygraves’ 'Healing': A Heartfelt Journey Through Heartbreak By the time he reached the ripe age of 27, the singer-songwriter and Joe Bygraves was famous beyond just the dreams of many singing stars. The soft guitar, rich vocals, and catchy lyrics of Bygraves have led him to share the stage with Paloma Faith and Ronan Keating, as well as performing sold-out headline shows and receiving top accolades for his 2020 single “Stand As One”. ” To see his latest effort “Healing,” a track which continues that path, give the audience a raw and honest look at the emotions of heartbreak and recovery. His style, having been strongly influenced by Ed Sheeran, Coldplay and Tom Grennan is noticeable in “Healing. ” This song contrastingly pairs simple piano with powerful vocals, thus producing a striking but stylishly designed pop ballad. The simplify melody part of Bygraves’ may for some might call Sheeran’s “Perfect” or you know, the intensity of Bruno Mars’ “Grenade. ” Yet Bygrave’s coarse voice gives a depth and originality to the track. [caption id="attachment_55526" align="alignnone" width="1440"] His style, having been strongly influenced by Ed Sheeran, Coldplay and Tom Grennan is noticeable in “Healing. ”[/caption] The thing that is listening to “Healing” is like putting on a comfy and cozy blanket. The laid back, smooth melody is completely weird with Bygraves’ gritty, haunting vocals under it all. This juxtaposition shows the song's themes of emptiness, perishability, loneliness, and cuteness. These themes depict some of the feelings the singer is going through. According to Bygraves, ‘healing’ is about trying to move on from that one person: that one person that you would never have believed you could ever live without; that one person whom you thought you would be with forever, and that one person whom you will always hold in your heart. The song is a simple structure—a ballad with soft piano chords—which is gradually crescendo as the song goes by. It is no secret that the words used captures her state and it is all romantic and personal, addressing the slow and painful process of moving on. Through “Bygraves’” voice, the pain and longing appear to be inherited traits, that is, it feels so real. Said bridge is these listeners times of reflection which enhances the emotional part of the story. [caption id="attachment_55525" align="alignnone" width="720"] Through “Bygraves’” voice, the pain and longing appear to be inherited traits, that is, it feels so real.[/caption] “Healing” the song written by Bygraves is touching in the sense that not only does it conjure the past memories but also the healing process is not an overnight one. The song has truthfully shown the artist's appeal in exposing innermost feelings and connecting to the audience on a personal level. Joe Bygraves’ journey from a known face in Bedfordshire to an artist with a world-wide recognition demonstrates his outstanding talent and effort. His music, featuring their emotional openness and human-ness, still touches the audience from different parts of the world. “Healing” is a powerful dance number, and I can’t wait to see what he comes up with as an encore. If you haven’t heard of Joe Bygraves yet, you must check out his music. His new song entitled “Healing” is everywhere now, and it’s a sentimental song that anyone who had discarded any meaningful connection is sure to identify with. Byrgraves mastering the art of expressing his pain and hope in the very form he creates stands out. His song “Healing” is a beautiful representation of his talent. Listen to Healing below https://open.spotify.com/track/16oP6qTJdDLlW01urslSYp Follow Joe Bygraves on Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Youtube Instagram Songkick

[mysticdreamcafe]

Finding my MoJo with some mystic help

I'm going to put this out there...I'm an intuitive empath that loves her crystals and tarot cards. Pendant's, and rune stones.

So after my rows with nature, stress, family, Dr's, and all around ill health (I don't have many Immunoglobulin G's which I call goblin G troup). Thanks to Goblin Gs going AWOL I have been on antibiotics since July of 2023. 2 weeks on these massive combo pills and a week or two off, repeat either till I am antibiotic resistant or I can get the shots to force goblin G troups to join me and fight. Lets not forget inhalers, nasal sprays, pills both herbal and pharma. medications.

I am going to fight with everything I have through 2024 and if there isn't a significant improvement in at least one area I will stop any traditional medical practices I can and try for a more holistic approach.

Especially, after a bout with COVID-19 that took over 6mo to recover from I have learned to deal with energy syphons. You know, the people who make interaction challenging and tedious. I've always been able to gage a room and the people in it but never trusted my instincts. That has changed, I know am trying to trust my first impressions and inner voice now.

I said I'd mention Johhny Depp in this post so here it goes. It's nothing exciting but more annoying from my point of view.

During my "I quit and will just wait to die" moments during the end of 2023 I saw what my giving up was doing to my mother and daughter. That's when I decided to get through the holidays and then make some changes. So my fingers started typing in preparation things like... nutrition, keto, raw diet, balanced, yoga, brain eating itself, replacing white matter, and so on. Each time I searched a topic Johnny Depp showed up in a clip. There'd be a dog, guitar, baby, rants on his divorce, with his son, etc. His clips had nothing to do with what I was researching.

Let me refresh you...I DON'T CARE ABOUT FAMOUS PEOPLE SO i DON'T RESEARCH THEM. Though stuff does pop up occasionally it's not about one celeb over and over. During this time I had looked up why people couldn't leave Keanu Reeves and his girlfriend alone. My daughter brought it to my attention so I searched.

According to computer science if you search a topic either via typing it on a keyboard or verbally asking an AI like Alexa about it. Once you've selected the topic: famous name, raised garden beds, new roofs, dog characteristics, etc. the search engine (bing, google, etc) will flood you with ads regarding these specific topics.

Mr. Reeves plays bass in a band so why was Depp the one showing up?

After a few weeks of Johnny Depp ads annoying the crap out of me I went to bed irritated and with a killer migraine. That is until I remembered...things usually happen for a reason. What is the reason? So I asked Alexa...what instrument he plays, his band name, other members, play some of their songs.

I'll be honest and say the first song didn't resonate with me. I continued for a few more songs and one was an Alice Cooper remix. This brought nostalgia and emotion that I've missed since I stopped listening to music regularly. Migraines and music or any noise don't get along so I opted for quiet.

I asked for Alexa to switch to 80s rock and something clicked.

I've started this blog and not sure how often I'll post since I quit Social medias for the most part...esp FB, to limit screen times. I'm looking into a free course on coding through Stratford U. I have a BA in computers but it's been ages since I've written code or done anything with computers themselves due to illness.

Remember I am writing most things, except this blog, long hand.

Oh I want to say in case one of Johnny's people see this post that I wrote to him to thank him for reminding me about my love of music. I stopped listening again during a rough patch and he started popping up again! I grabbed my headphones and started listening to some Mozart. A day later the pop ups were back to normal.

I received a mass produced photo of him, I don't think he signed it and it was simply printed with photo but the gesture is nice. If one of his people read this tell him that even though we've never met I thank him for helping me out of a dark time via reminding me of my love of music and to keep spreading his energy.

When I wrote Johnny I didn't ask for anything but I just wanted him to know he'd made a difference in some ordinary persons life without even realizing it.

The writing of letters long hand, in cursive, has helped and if anyone wants to pen pal please let me know and I'll set up a PO Box. Assholes need not apply!

Time for a reading and meditation.

May you be grounded and good energy surround you

MV