#the lyrics are depressing as hell but ignore that

[ask-postcrash-curly]

hey bub

how’re ya doing? i feel like i haven’t asked that in a while. take a sec to self assess. HAH! talk about therapy. bringing back the ol’ Trauma Therapy from Death Itself, huh? but seriously, how’re doing right now? god, i can’t wait for you to be able to move and stuff again. you’re kinda hard to read when you’re in the same position without face muscles to show physically anything.

…

you want more nicknames from Dove? hah, ok. crazily enough, most people wouldn’t call their companion “Death” if that were their name. little strange, huh? anyways, you know how i said i never told anyone about… all that? well, i did tell dove her my name. i won’t say it, but it’s after a story where a woman’s lover is sentenced to death, and she sets her house ablaze while inside. we weren’t even scandinavian, we were french for fucks sake! it wasn’t a name i liked.

i’m off topic. ok… yeah, she would call me that sometimes, much to my dismay. she loved it. she called me Angel a lot. sometimes, she’d talk about me under the guise of “a friend”, she’d always refer to me as angel then. i think they thought she was hallucinating me. oh, if only they knew. oh! sometimes i was raven, or more commonly, “my raven”.

i would watch her as an actual raven from time to time, i remember she would be talking to someone, and she’d see me, and in the middle of speaking, she’d smile and laugh a little bit. she was funny.

…

fucking hell, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to spill all of that. well, there’s more for ya!

everyone, curlings, friends, this is a real picture of mr Grant David Curly from when he was an infant. yep. you can’t deny that that doesn’t look exactly like you. your hair. was almost white when you were a baby, you had a full head of curls by the time you were 9 months old, plus, you were a porcelain skinned rosy cheeked little baby. this is how me and Robin see you. small little baby.

ignore the depressing lyrics, focus on the killer beat near the end.

i love ya!

🖤🖤

Heya.

I'm... Same as ever, really. Tired, achey, but powering through. Hah, yeah. I keep forgetting you're watching me. Hello!

Really? Never occurred to me not to call you that. ...French, eh? Hah, sorry. I don't know that story. I do know about being ablaze though. Wouldn't recommend.

Angel's nice. Raven, too. Hey, I just found out that corvids are the smartest birds. I guess you had to go along with the bird theme, huh? Hahah.

She sounds great. Wish I could've met her. Please, again, you don't need to apologize! I think it's nice.

For fuck's sake— it is not! I was a perfectly ordinary-looking baby with no wings whatsoever. Hah. Where are you getting these? I'm a full-grown man, even if I don't look it.

Well. Okay. ...Yeah, no, that beat's pretty killer. Nice. Thanks!

Love ya too.

[khaoray]

the ever wonderful mona, @thitiponqs, tagged me to do this! thank you!!

rules: put your music library on shuffle, then list the first 5 songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for the one they like the most! 🎶

tonight! we dance 🕺🏻

what a selection asdfghj, anyway

tagging... @markpakin, @yakdee, @celestial-sapphicss, @dengswei & anyone else who wants to! no pressure if you've already done this i am as usual unaware of 99% of anything happening at all times

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

brutally- r.c. x reader

summary: this is part two of champagne problems-a year after you said no to rafe, you receive a wedding invitation for rafe and sofia's wedding. a/n: this is for the one who asked for part two 🥹 i wrote this at 2 am and my first language isn’t english so bear with me lmaoo, thank you so much to all who've read my silly little story, i honestly didn't think a lot of people would read it. anywayyy i hope you like it <3 warnings: angst (?) depressed reader and low self esteem. oh and swearing lol disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

part 1

seems to me, it's over

i'll get used to it eventually

over and over again, brutally

it's just the way it's meant to be

now your love's no good for me

i closed my eyes listening to the lyrics, my complicated feelings being put into words. it always amazes me how artists could turn pain into art, sadness into poems, and tears into songs. i pulled the covers over my head, darkening the moonlight seeping through my window.

i suddenly heard a knock on my door. i frowned and paused the song, confused. it was 2 am, and i knew that my family would be dead asleep by now, so i started freaking out. i lay still for a moment but ignored it after a while, thinking that maybe i had just imagined it. after all, i haven't exactly been sleeping like i should. insomnia makes you delirious, or so i’ve heard.

knock, knock, knock.

ok, i was definitely not imagining it. i got up quietly and almost tripped on my bunny by accident.

“sorry, baby,” i whispered. i then grabbed a candlestick on my right hand, lifting it in case i needed to hit whoever was behind the door. i mean what kind of burglar would knock? i chuckled nervously as i walked to the door. ugh, it must be jonathan again with his stupid ghost jokes. i took a deep breath and turned the handle with my left hand, swinging the door wide open.

oh, this motherfucker will know to stop messing with me. “jonathan, i swear to god if you’re–,” the words got stuck in my throat. ok, i was officially insane. because there was no way i wasn’t imagining this.

“rafe?” i hissed. “what are you doing here? and how the fuck did you get in?” see? completely irrational, therefore i was hallucinating.

“the front door was open,” he said with wide eyes, clearly trying to look innocent.

i narrowed my eyes, “i personally locked all the doors. so don’t fucking lie to me, or so help me, i will scream.” if i screamed, i knew someone would hear and would come to wake me up.

he smirked, “if you already know the answer, why do you bother asking? also, please scream, i’ve missed hearing it.” what the fuck?! my dreams have never been this vivid. this is it, my own personal hell.

it had been a month since i’d seen rafe and sofia at the beach, and since then i have avoided people even more than before. although on the rare occasions that i did go out, like the grocery store, whispers and covert glances would follow me around like a blood hound.

my eyes were adjusting to the hallway’s darkness, and i noticed that his under eyes were far too like mine. then i saw blood running from his nose, lip, and a bruise was forming on his cheek.

“what happened? oh my god, are you okay?” my voice filled with worry, erasing all the anger i felt because i still cared. more than i should.

“never felt better.” okay maybe not entirely. jerk. i then looked away from his face and saw that his shirt was also soaked with blood. it was so much, and i felt sick. if there was something i hated more than anything it was seeing the boy i loved hurt, even if he did it to himself. hell, more if he was the reason behind it. but why would he come here? of all places?

he still hasn't answered my question, but i figured i’d interrogate him while i cleaned his wounds.

i sigh, then pull him by the arm into my room. that’s when it hit me, alcohol. great.

“sit,” i ordered. “be careful with gia.” i saw a ball of white fur running around happily. strangely enough, she loved rafe, despite him not being around in a long time. she’s just like her mom. oh, fuck off. i left my bedroom to look for band-aids and rubbing alcohol. i grabbed some painkillers and a glass of water to try and sober him up. i paused at the head of the stairs to listen to any signs of my parents being awake. snoring met my ears, and i sighed with relief. i didn’t need to explain why my ex-boyfriend was in my room all bloody while being engaged. engaged. i blinked the tears away, “focus.”

the first thing i see when i get back is gia on rafe’s lap. traitor. he was petting her despite knowing i never let her get on my bed. she loved ripping my sheets far too much when i didn’t give her attention. he looked up and smiled at me. my heart broke a little, or what was left of it anyway.

i take her out of his lap and place her gently on the floor. i swear she looked at me judgingly, but then again, she's just a bunny. a traitor but still a bunny.

“she’s so big already,” he says quietly.

“yeah.” i answer. “she’s a year old.”

he looked surprised, “really?” his blue eyes somehow managed to glow in the darkness. why do they always do that?

i nodded looking down, “it’s been a while.” i repeated the words he’d said to me at the beach.

he furrowed his brow at that, but didn’t answer. i turn around and take the chair from my desk, dragging it to where he’s seated. he’s not looking at me, instead watching my paintings on the walls and the clutter of pencils and paintbrushes on my desk.

“you’re painting again,” he stated. no shit, sherlock.

i nodded again. “inspiration has been coming easily lately.” i left so many things unsaid. i wish i could call myself an artist, an echo of my earlier thoughts.

you consumed me, leaving no trace behind.

i felt like i was back 13 months ago before everything went downhill, about to clean his cuts like i’d done far too many times before. i wish i could heal wounds that were not visible to the naked eye.

i took a ball of cotton and dipped it in the alcohol. i leaned in, avoiding his eyes. those goddamn eyes. “this is going to hurt.”

“i know,” he winced when i pressed the ball to his cut lip. “sorry,” i then pressed it to his brow, noticing a small cut. leaning from my chair to clean his face was harder than i thought. normally, i’d be straddling his lap with his hands around my waist. don't go there.

i tried to keep my breath normal while i put on the band-aids. his gaze was intently on my face, but i avoided his eyes. “done.” i leaned back and then i gathered the used cotton and paper.

“you'll have to look at me eventually.” his voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming. by his state, i'd be surprised if he hadn't.

“only if you answer my question.” i sat back down and grabbed the alcohol bottle and the pills. i took two out and handed it to him along with the glass. i still didn't look at him.

“i got into a fight.”

“well, thank you captain obvious.” i finally met his gaze and only found sadness in them.

he chuckled without humor, “you asked.”

“you know what i meant.”

he went quiet for a while, staring out the window. i took the opportunity to get a good look at him. i frowned when i noticed he’d lost weight. he looked so healthy at the beach, what happened? his nails were bitten to the quick and his signet ring looked loose around his finger. his shirt had once been blue, but was now deep red. his jeans were also matted with blood and his shoes had dirt and blood on them as well. his hair was longer now, falling to his forehead in a messy manner. he looked oddly beautiful. he always did and it made me want to cry. it was so unfair, why was falling in love so easy but getting out of it borderline impossible? every time i went to sleep, he was there, haunting me in my dreams. i woke up and there he was, everywhere. my clothes, my bed, my hands, my eyes, my fucking heart. it wasn’t his to own, yet he stayed without any intention of leaving.

his eyes met mine and he finally says, “better hear it from me than from somebody else.”

i frowned, “what do you mean?”

“i had a fight with one of your friends.” i clenched my jaw.

“what?!”

“pope, he provoked me,” he looks back at me defiantly.

“pope? rafe, what the fuck?” i was so confused right now.

i’m having a fever dream, i must be. pope was a saint, he wouldn’t hurt anyone and if he did, it would be with good reason. he was the only one of the pogues i talked to the most. after rafe and i broke up, i pushed sarah away and by extension, john b. so because of that, jj talked to me on occasion and kie only ever talked when she hadn’t heard from me in a while. which had become less and less when i stopped putting effort into our friendship. so, the only one left was pope, sweet and kind pope. i could never push him away; he didn’t deserve it. well, none of them really did, but we had a special bond. i think it was because my brother and i had spent the entirety of our only summer camp with him. pope and i were seven and my brother was eight and we were inseparable, the only times we didn’t see each other was when the boys and girls were divided for different activities, which wasn’t often. so right now, i am furious.

“i need an explanation. now!” i remembered to lower my voice, but i almost didn’t care.

“no, wait. you know what? i don’t need to listen to this,” i took a deep breath and closed my eyes, because if i didn’t, i would punch something, preferably rafe.

i turned around and pointed at the door, without looking at him, “get. out. now.”

“no.”

i scoffed and opened my eyes, “what do you mean, no? you don’t get to decide, ok? first of all, we aren’t together anymore. secondly, you broke into my house, drunk and bloody and third, you had a fight with my best friend.” i tightened my fists to control my anger.

“i won’t leave until you hear me out,” he crossed his arms and glared at me.

“i don’t have to hear you out. this is my house, therefore my rules.” oh my god. this is it. i have become my mother.

“fine. let’s go outside then,” he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out the door before i could protest.

“rafe cameron. let me go, right now.” i yanked my arm to no avail, and to be fair i wasn’t strong enough. id lost too much weight and didn’t exercise, although i don’t think that would’ve helped me much if i’m being honest. rafe was freakishly strong.

“no. you’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not.” i could feel him trembling with anger and i hated that my heart started pounding so fast. he’s practically kidnapping you and you’re all excited? what the fuck is wrong with you? oh god, let’s not go there.

i knew there was no point in fighting, so i let him drag me out the front door and down the street to a small playground that we used to spend a lot of time in late at night. i hate that he remembers where it was and that he didn’t hesitate in taking us there.

when he finally let me go, he didn’t face me. i crossed my arms expectantly. i looked around me and saw that all the houses were dark, the moon being our only witness. how i love her. it made me feel a little better that she was lighting our path and, in a way, creating a spotlight on us. cheap shakespearean tragedy again. i started shaking from the cold and hugged my sweatshirt tighter and faced rafe. i hadn’t noticed him looking at me quietly. i felt a little pang in my chest at the familiar gesture.

“well?” i raised an eyebrow, expectantly. he started to fidget and avoided my gaze.

“i—” he looked down and frowned. “i broke up with sofia.”

i took in a sharp breath. ok, i wasn’t expecting that. what the fuck was i supposed to say? he stayed silent and i realized he was waiting for me to say something. “i’m sorry,” i guess. i don’t know.

he scoffed and lifted his eyes to mine. like always, they shined but this time they weren’t as bright. he was sad, i could tell.

“i still don’t see what this has to do with pope and you breaking into my house, though.”

he nodded and walked towards the swing seat that was a few feet away from us. i felt like i had déjà vu in that moment. here was the first time he kissed me. on that very same swing set. i sighed and went to sit on the empty swing by his side.

“remember when we snuck out here and we got drunk for the first time?” he asked.

i laughed, “yeah, i then swore i would never touch alcohol again. my mom was so mad.”

he laughed too, “my dad congratulated me that day, said i was finally a man.”

“what? that’s so unfair,” i feigned annoyance. “my mom locked me up for a week.”

“i did break you out, though.” he pointed out and chuckled.

“the least you could do after making me steal my mom’s liquor,” i smiled and stared at the ground. our laughter died down and all that was left was the bittersweetness of what once was. i was so happy back then; everything was so simple. sure, i’d had my low days but after a while, i started dimming until i turned off. the lightbulb now burnt out, but unlike the real ones, i couldn’t be replaced. a sudden wave of guilt came over me. i ruined everything and for what? i stopped talking to my friends, broke the heart of the love of my life and built a fortress around me, not to keep people out, but to keep myself in. that way i wouldn’t hurt anyone, or so i thought.

“i’m sorry.” i lifted my head, confused.

“for what?” i asked.

“everything.” he looked at me with a tired expression.

“what is everything, rafe?” if anything i should be the one apologizing.

“for pressuring you when you didn’t want to marry me. i knew how you felt about it and i still pushed and ruined what we had. i was selfish and stupid, but i swear i didn’t mean to. i never meant for you to feel like i didn’t respect your boundaries or your beliefs.” i could tell he’d thought about those words for a while. he was so wrong. “rafe—”

“no, please let me finish.” his eyes were glassy, and i swore i could see him burning from the inside. a feeling i knew all too well.

he takes a deep breath and starts talking, “i am not going to deny that i was angry and hurt and that i felt like i was going insane. i spent weeks wondering what i’d done wrong, ways to make you take me back and every time i looked for you at your house, your brother or your mother would turn me away. and i never saw you outside, even months after our breakup.

“and instead of being angry at myself, i began to feel angry at you. why did you do this to me? when you knew how i felt about you and that i would never feel the same way for anybody else.” he gets up and starts pacing, avoiding my gaze and i’m grateful because my heart has somehow broken once more, and rivulets start descending, falling to the ground.

he starts gesturing wildly with his hands and turns to me, “i was broken, ok? you broke me and i started spending my nights at the country club, permanently glued to the bar. i drank away my pain and then this girl started noticing how sad i was. despite me being a jerk to her, she was kind to me and instead of serving me more drinks she started listening to me.” sofia. great. now i have to listen to their love story and how she healed him or whatever. stop being so bitter.

“so, i asked her out and she said yes, and we started dating. for the first time in months, i felt better. like maybe i could be good enough for someone, even if it wasn’t the person i wanted. i locked you away in my head and made sofia my priority. i was petty when i asked her to marry me. i wanted you to see that i had moved on, that it wasn’t that special, and that you’d done me a favor. that i could be happy without you.” i’d stopped looking at him in an attempt to hide my tears.

“but then i saw you at the beach. and all those feelings came crashing back in. that day i wanted to scream at you, kiss you, hurt you, and hold you so hard you couldn’t leave me again. i saw sofia go to you and you looked the same, yet not. when you said you were sick, i figured it was a cold and not the way i hoped. that maybe you were just as miserable as me. then you turned around and i couldn’t stop myself. so, i went to you, and i saw you crying and it took everything in me not to reach out to you. i realized i wasn’t over you and that i never would be. and i’m angry at you because i saw you for less than ten minutes and you somehow managed to destroy everything, i’d worked so hard to build. i hurt sofia badly. she didn’t deserve that, and i hate myself for it and i hate that i still love you.”

i looked up at that, shocked. i suddenly forgot how to speak.

but he had so much more to say because he didn’t stop, “so i broke up with her a few days after that and today, i went to find another place to drink, because she worked at the country club, and i couldn’t go there. you ruined that for me too. you managed to exile me without a word, and i went to the next best thing in kildare. your friend’s restaurant, and there were your stupid friends and my sister talking and laughing. when sarah saw me, she came up to me and i snapped at her, so john b stepped in and then jj and pope came along to kick me out so i punched him and then the others got into the fight as well, until they called the police and told me to leave. and i ended up here without realizing it. because i always come back to you.”

he was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon, his words starting to mix. i could only stare at him, and i guess that pissed him off even more.

“answer me for fuck’s sake!” i flinched. he’d never yelled at me like that. first time for everything.

“i—”

“y/n, please. i need you to talk to me because i’m going insane. please, i need a fucking answer. why did you do this to me?” he knelt in front of me, crying. i hate myself so much.

“rafe, i’m sorry,” i sob.

“sorry doesn’t cut it, okay?” his nostrils flared. “i need an explanation for why you left me.”

i take a deep breath and nod. “you’re right. i just- i.”

i sigh and close my eyes, “i didn’t say no because of my views on marriage, ok? i didn’t say no because i didn’t think you weren’t good enough for me, on the contrary. i felt like you deserved so much better than me. i’m pretty shitty, rafe. i didn’t want to ruin things, only to realize it was too late. i just wanted you to be happy, even if that meant with somebody else. somebody who could love you better than i ever could. i hurt you and i’m sorry, it’s the last thing i wanted. i only want you to be happy and i can’t give you that. you’re an amazing person, rafe.” i put my hand on his cheek and wipe away his tears.

“i do love you, rafe. i always have and i always will. i love you so much that i know what you deserve and it’s not me. i’m not ok. i’ll sabotage everything in the end, like i always do. i didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

i felt his features harden under my hand and he got up. he glared at me and his chest started rising and falling angrily.

“what the fuck, y/n? you don’t get to decide what’s good for me. that is my decision, and you didn’t ask me, ok? you went ahead and broke up with me for no clear reason. i know i fucked up by proposing, but we didn’t have to break up. instead, you left me there, alone and with my heart ripped out. it’s such bullshit. i am a grown man, and a relationship is between two people, but instead you decided i wasn’t capable, and you chose for both of us. that is so fucked up, y/n.”

“do you really think this low of me? that i’m an idiot who can’t think? or even worse, that i wasn’t a good enough boyfriend that you felt like i couldn’t help you? is that what this is? you think i’m incompetent? did i do something that made you feel like that? you should’ve told me how you were feeling, not bottle it up and then leave with no explanation. i’m not chopped liver, you know? we were supposed to be there for each other in the good and the bad.”

i looked down at my hands, ashamed. he was right, and it just proved everything i’ve said. “i never meant for it to be this way. i thought i was doing the right thing, ok? and it’s not that i thought you couldn’t handle it, i just didn’t think you should. you’ve had enough problems with your life for me to bring you more. a relationship is of two people, but i wasn’t in the right headspace to be able to maintain it. you couldn’t fix me, and i didn’t expect you to.” i looked up and his face was still wet with tears but was otherwise serious. he stared at me, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched. he was so angry and upset. its all your fault. it always is.

he was quiet for a while and i thought he wasn’t going to speak until he said, “who ever said i wanted to fix you? you don’t need fixing and you’re painting me as if i’m perfect. i’ve had my fair share of fucked up stuff too and you helped me. i just wanted to be there for you, i still do. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“besides, what good has it done for us to be apart? if anything, we’re worse. i get drunk at least three times a week and you never leave your house. when was the last time you went out with your friends? you think i didn’t know? i talked to sarah sometimes and she always said you were ignoring her and avoiding the others.” his voice started raising again and started walking towards me.

i looked up at the sky, the moon hiding behind clouds. even she’s embarrassed. “i didn’t say it would be good for me, i only meant that it would be good for you.” how many times do i have to say it?

“yeah well, it’s not, ok? it hasn’t been good for me. i want to be with you. and i’m tired of this whole sad girl shit you’ve got going on, alright? you’re not the only one in pain and frankly, you’ve only done more harm than good. your friends don’t deserve your disappearance acts, much less my sister. sarah loves you more than anything, more than she loves me. you’re her sister and you’re being selfish.” i just felt like i’d been slapped in the face. although maybe that would’ve stung less. the worst part is that he’s right, but now i was starting to get pissed off.

so, i did what i always do, hurt them back. real mature.

“there you go, you discovered america. i’m a shitty person and i’m selfish and self-centered and egotistical and a hypocrite. whatever you want to call me, ok? you just proved my point so congratulations on finally figuring it out.” i got up and wiped my tears and began to walk away before i said something else that i’d regret or worse.

he grabbed my arm before i could take another step and sat me back down, “you don’t get to have the last word, ok? when will you finally understand that the thing you were supposedly protecting me and the others from, is precisely your behavior right now. being present before wasn’t hurting anybody, and now, by removing yourself from our lives, you’ve caused exactly what you were trying to avoid. i’m so fucking pissed off with your self-pity. before being your boyfriend, i was your best friend, or at least i thought i was. sarah was your best friend, and you could’ve told her if you didn’t want to talk to me, alright? but this self-isolation is over. you’re only hurting everyone else.” his blue eyes were somehow colder than the night air. i know that what he’s saying is true, but i don’t feel like it is. i’m so overwhelmed that all i want is to rot in my bed alone.

i yanked my arm out of his grip and stood up. “i have enough to deal with without you making it worse. forget about me, ok? its better this way and maybe you should go talk to sofía. she clearly loves you more than me.” i pushed past him and didn’t look back.

something hit me from behind (not in a good way) and i ended up on the ground. “what the fuck?” rafe tackled me. like some fucking nfl player. “dude are you for real?” he flipped me over and pinned my hands over my head. my breath hitched and he noticed. motherfucker.

“i’m not going back to sofia, ok? and you’re not leaving until i say so.” in other circumstances this would be hot, but right now i am exhausted. sure, of course you are. and i really wanted him to kiss me. i was so close to giving in.

“do tell, rafe.” i forced my voice to sound tired, but my heart said otherwise. yeah, his body on top of mine was enough to wake me up. horny bitch. i just really miss him. is that so bad?

he didn’t respond though, he was breathing rapidly, and his gaze fell on my lips, but before i could say something his lips crashed into mine. his hands let go of mine and moved to cradle my face and i threaded my fingers through his hair. shit.

suddenly my body felt alive again, my heart restarting completely and my mind went quiet for the first time in a year. i moaned when he bit my lip softly and he groaned when my tongue trailed his. we fell into that familiar rhythm and suddenly i felt like nothing had changed. i pulled away to breathe but he only took the opportunity to kiss my face and jaw, then down my neck. i tugged at his hair, and he kissed me again, this time rolling us over, so i was on top, with my legs on either side of him. he somehow managed to sit up and his right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer while his left hand pushed the hair out of my face. this time he was the one that pulled back, only to wrap his other arm around my waist and bury his face in the crook of my neck. i stroked his hair and closed my eyes. i quit all of my resolve and hugged him tighter to me. he spoke first.

“i missed you so fucking much,” his voice cracked, and i then felt something cold slide down my chest. he was crying. and that broke me. i started sobbing and hugged him impossibly tighter, “me too. i love you so much, i’m sorry.” i pressed my lips to his head and inhaled his scent. home. he lifted his face to look at me and his hair fell over his brow. he was so beautiful. the moonlight bathed him over, the planes of his face highlighted, and the shadows became more pronounced. chiaroscuro. a technique i’d never mastered, yet the moon, ever the artist, did so effortlessly.

a tear fell down his cheek and i kissed it away, and before i knew it, i kissed every crevice of his face and whispered i love you’s spilled from my lips. i hated that i was the cause of his pain. when i finally pulled away, his eyes were closed, and i lifted my hand and traced his face like i’d done forever ago. “your freckles are like constellations,” i whispered. he chuckled at the memory and hugged me to his chest.

after a while of us sitting still he said, “don’t leave me again, please.”

i pulled away, put my hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes. “i’ll stay as long as you want me, but i don’t want to hurt you again.” i meant it.

“you’ll only hurt me if you leave. and i want you to know that i’ll help you get better, but please don’t push me away. i only want you to be happy too, but the way you’re living right now won’t let you achieve that.”

i looked down and nodded, “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry, too.” he lifted my chin so i could meet his gaze. “we can do this together, okay? its not about fixing each other, but about supporting one another. you don’t need fixing because you aren’t broken.” my eyes welled up at that and this time he was the one that kissed my tears away.

“just let me in, please.” his lips felt like the perfect antidote, and i knew then that i would be alright, with his help and my friends’.

“ok.” he pulled back when he heard me and smiled, and god how i’d missed that smile.

i smiled back and rested my head on his shoulder. “you really need to change and shower.”

he laughed, “yeah, pope won’t appreciate new fashion choices.”

i laughed too, “i have to see them and apologize. tomorrow. you’re right, i’ve only made things worse.”

“i’ll go with you, if you want. though don’t expect me to apologize.”

i slapped his shoulder, “rafe!”

“fine, then i won’t go.” i narrowed my eyes at him.

“you have to apologize, or i won’t talk to you for a week.”

his eyes widened, panicked. “fine, ill go. just please don’t do that.”

i didn’t expect that reaction to be fair. “i was joking, i’m sorry.”

“well, it wasn’t funny,” he pouted. why is he so cute? i’m so down bad.

“ok ok.” i stand up and offer my hand for him to stand up. he takes it but once he’s up he doesn’t let go.

as we walked up to my house, i realized he can’t stay with me.

“are you going home?” i ask.

rafe looks down at me, “are you that desperate to get rid of me?”

i roll my eyes, “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“hmm, better be. but to answer your question, yeah. although i was hoping you’d come with me.”

i stop at that, “i can’t, my mom will get worried.”

he groans frustrated. “can’t you just say you left to stay with a friend?”

i raise an eyebrow at that, “she’ll never believe that, especially at this hour.”

“i meant like leave a note. but i can stay with you, unless you want me to go. i have clothes in my truck, if that’s what you’re worried about.” he stops and looks at me expectantly. his offer is tempting but i can’t help but feel like we’re going too fast.

“i don’t want you to go and id love to stay with you, but maybe we should stay away for tonight. i feel like its too sudden.” his frowns at that, but nods though i can tell he’s a little annoyed.

“yeah, i guess you’re right.” he looked like he wanted to say something else and after seemingly thinking about it for a bit he says, “i just don’t want to be alone tonight.” me neither.

i nod, “ok, but get your clothes first.” his eyes light up and he nods before letting go of me to head towards his truck. when he gets back, we go up the stairs quietly and i tell him to go shower while i set the bed. we used to do this countless times when we were together. i usually took a couple of weighted blankets and draped them over us so my parents wouldn’t notice he was there, although they probably wouldn’t come in tomorrow, or today, because they had work early. i’d still lock my door just in case, that way i’d be alerted if they tried to get in. i jump, startled, when the door opens, and rafe comes in. he’s wearing a sweat set and is barefoot. he chuckles at the sight of the bed, “that never gets old.” gia suddenly hops onto my bed, and i lift her up and kiss her. “you know you can’t be here.” i then set her down and she runs under my desk, but not before stomping her back feet in annoyance. i feel rafe hug me from behind and kiss the top of my head, now smelling of my shampoo and soap.

“nice fragrance,” i giggle.

“thank you, it’s from a very exclusive shop in paris.” he says in an arrogant manner.

“oh, my bad, my lord.”

“apology accepted, my lady.” he picks me up and throws me onto the bed, before enveloping us with the blankets. after snuggling in my small bed, i kissed his cheek. “i love you.”

he hugs me tighter and kisses me softly, “i love you, too.”

part two <333 @lissylopez i hope you like it <3

divider creds: @anitalenia

[annafayeink]

Crawling Back to You

Summary: Luigi disappeared without a word. When Cassie stumbles back into his life after months of silence, she finds someone unrecognizable, distant, exhausted, buried under the weight of something he refuses to talk about. But Cassie won't let him disappear again.

Warnings & Tags: Friends to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, chronic pain & spondylolisthesis, depression, multiple pov, found family vibes, dark shit—prepare for possible tears

Read on AO3 | Next Chapter

Chapter One

Cassie

I hate grocery stores.  

The harsh lights, the crowded aisles, the carts rattling across the tiled floor—absolute hell. I’ve got punk rock blasting in my ears, drowning out the chaos. I don’t care if I look ridiculous nodding along to the beat, it keeps me moving. Get in, get out. That’s the plan. 

I glance at my phone. 7:42 PM. I could have been home for half an hour now, but my fridge is a wasteland, and I'd rather suffer through this than live off dry cereal for another day. My basket is already half full—rice, some meat, a problematic amount of snacks…

The song changes. I mouth the lyrics under my breath and bounce my hips while I scan the ice cream labels, looking for the lactose-free options. I pick up something with chocolate for a proper dopamine rush, throw it in the basket with the rest of my questionable choices and I’m moving again in a heartbeat.

Then something shifts in my peripheral vision. A glimpse of dark curls.

Oh my god.

A profile I’d recognize anywhere. 

My stomach drops. My breath catches. Everything halts. 

Lu.

I stop so suddenly that the woman behind nearly crashes into me but I barely notice her. My heart is already hammering in my chest. 

Luigi Mangione. Right here. In front of me. After seven months of silence.  

My first instinct is to drop the basket and run to him, to throw my arms around his neck like no time has passed. But then I really see him. 

Something is wrong. 

He’s thinner. Not dramatically, but enough to make my stomach twist uncomfortably. His broad shoulders still fill out his hoodie, but there’s something off—a slouch that wasn’t there before, like he’s holding himself carefully. 

And his face… He hasn’t shaved. Lu always shaves. He used to joke that "stubble makes me look like a wannabe mobster," but now his jaw is shadowed, rough. His dark curls are slightly unkempt, like he hasn’t cared enough to fix them. But worst of all?  

He’s walking weird.  

Not limping, exactly, but moving with obvious stiffness, like every step requires effort and caution. Like every shift of weight is calculated. Like he’s in pain and trying not to show it.  

My stomach tightens and suddenly I kind of want to hurl. What happened to you? 

For a second, I just stand there, because I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Because I haven’t seen him in months, and I thought—

He’s moving with his shoulders hunched under the weight of something I don’t yet understand yet. But I want to. 

His jaw is tight. His hand grips the cart like he needs to hold onto something. He looks alone. And I can’t take it anymore.

Before I can overthink it, I pull my headphones down around my neck. The store is too loud again, and some child is shrieking in the next aisle, but I couldn't care less. 

I follow him until I’m right behind. “Lu?”  

He freezes. Turns slowly to look at me, almost as if he’s scared of what he’ll find. When our eyes meet, it feels like the floor disappears under my feet.

His eyes widen—just for a second—before something guarded slams into place. His expression changes. Not surprise. Not relief. 

Guilt.  

“Cassie,” he says, as my name is unfamiliar in his mouth. His voice sounds rough, like he hasn’t used it much lately. “Wow. Hey.” 

I force a smile, ignoring the fact that my hands are gripping my basket too tightly. “Holy shit. It’s really you.”  

He blinks a few times, like he’s still trying to process this. And then, as if switching to autopilot, he forces a smile.

That’s how I know something is really, really wrong.

Because it’s not real.

I know Lu. I know all of his smiles. I know the ones he gives when he’s happy, when he’s embarrassed, when he’s trying to keep from laughing. 

But this isn’t any of those. It’s the kind of smile you give when you don’t want someone to worry about you. When you’re trying to make them believe you’re okay.

It doesn’t work on me. Because he stopped returning my calls. Because he hasn’t answered any of my messages in seven months. Because he moved to a city where no one knew him and never even told me or any of his other friends.

Because I’m standing right in front of him and he looks like he wants to disappear.

I search his face for any sign of the guy I knew, the guy who used to beam at me across the game dev meetings, who’d high-five me after a ridiculous Smash Bros win, who’d toss me his hoodie when I complained about the cold, grumbling about how I’m so predictable.  

That guy isn’t here.  

And suddenly, I’m pissed.  

He left. He disappeared without a word, shut me out, ignored every single check-in, every stupid meme I sent just to remind him I still existed. Seven months. And now he’s standing in front of me like he never expected to see me again and doesn’t know how to deal with it.

I push down the anger with a slow, inconspicuous exhale. That’s not the priority right now.  

I shift my basket to my other hand like this is just some casual conversation between acquaintances. Like I can't sense the turning gears in his brain searching for an escape route. “What have you been up to?” 

His jaw tenses. He glances at the produce section like he’d rather talk to the goddamn oranges. “Not much.”  

I narrow my eyes and shove my free hand into my hoodie pocket, pretend everything is fine.

“Still working in AI?” I prod.  

His hesitation is so brief I almost miss it. Then he nods. “Yeah. Freelancing.”  

Something in his tone makes me think that’s not the full truth. But I don’t push. I don’t want to scare him off.   

Instead, I glance at the groceries in his cart. Not many. Like he’s buying just enough to get by. Oat milk, a few cans of soup, some protein bars, a loaf of bread. Nothing fresh. Nothing real. And I don’t like that either.  

“You done shopping?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

Another pause. He shifts his weight slightly, like standing in one place is uncomfortable. “Yeah.” 

“Did you drive here?”

“Took the bus.”

I cross my arms, tilting my head. “Cool. I’ll give you a ride.” 

He blinks. “Cass—”  

“Nope.” I shake my head, already snatching his cart out of his hands. “You don’t get to argue. You owe me, Mangione. Seven months of radio silence? This is me cashing in.”  

He exhales sharply, looking at me like he’s trying to figure something out. But we both know it’s not worth the fight. 

I always win.  

Then, finally, he gives a small, tired nod. “... Okay.”

I keep the music on low as I drive. Lu is silent for the first few minutes, staring out the window, hands clasped together in his lap. I steal glances at him whenever I can. 

This is weird. Lu is never quiet.

Or at least, he never used to be quiet with me.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, waiting. Stretching the silence to see if he’ll break it first.

He doesn’t.

I glance at him again before turning back to the road. “Seven months, Lu. That’s how long it’s been.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see his jaw tensing. He’s still silent.

“I know I stopped calling but… I still sent messages. I tried to check in. Tell you that—"

And I cut myself off before I break down.

His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on his knee. He looks like he needs time to gather his thoughts, so I give it to him.

Finally, he exhales, eyes still locked on the passing buildings. “I know.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. A breath escapes me, tight and shaky.

“Are you gonna tell me why you ghosted me, or do I have to guess?” I say, still trying to keep my voice light and casual. It’s getting almost impossible. 

Another stretch of silence. Then finally, his voice, low and raw. “I wasn’t in a good place.”  

It’s vague. Too vague.  

“And now?” I tighten my grip on the wheel. 

His lips press together. “Still working on it.”  

The way he says it—the weight behind it—hits me like a punch to the ribs. I knew something was wrong. But this isn’t just wrong. This is bad.  

I swallow hard. “You could’ve… said something.” I say carefully. “I could’ve helped.”  

“...I didn’t know what to say.”  

This is so unlike him it hurts.

I chew my lip, then glance at him again. His jaw is too tight, his hands too still, like he’s bracing for something. “So… what, you just decided to disappear instead of letting me be there for you?”

His head turns and, for a moment, I think he might be looking at me. But he’s not. His gaze is lost beyond the hood of the car. “Would it have mattered if I said anything?”

That stings like hell. I have to take a deep, shuddering breath to keep it together but I feel like I’m falling apart fast. He’s being unfair, and he knows it. He must know it.

“Of course it would’ve mattered!”

He exhales sharply and looks away again.

I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to push him too hard and make him retreat even further. Really, all I want is to reach out and hug him like before, but I feel like that would make him jump out of the car the next second.

“I was worried about you, Lu.” 

His gaze lowers to his lap. He can’t even stand to look at me. The lump in my throat grows, and I tighten my fingers around the wheel.

I slow the car to stop at a red light and look at him. “You’re not gonna disappear on me again,” I say. It’s not a question. It’s a warning.  

His fingers twitch. His legs shift. “I wasn’t planning on running into you,” he says, like that makes anything better.  

“Well, lucky you,” I mutter. “Fate said fuck your plans.”  

I expect a smile. A smirk. Some flicker of the old Lu—but nothing.  

My chest tightens impossibly. It’s hard to breathe.

The light turns green. I press the gas.

Lu doesn’t say anything else. But he’s not looking out the window anymore, either.

When we pull up to his apartment building, all I can think about is how gray it is. And small. He reaches for the door handle like he’s ready to get the hell out of here, but I stop him with a hand on his arm.

The muscles tense under my fingers and he freezes the same way he did when I called his name at the store. I remove my hand immediately, afraid of making everything worse.

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. All I know is I can’t let him walk away again and pretend I don’t exist.

“Can I see you again? Please?”  

His head snaps toward me. This time, there’s real emotion in his eyes. Surprise. Maybe hesitation.  

I keep going before he can say no.  

“Because I can’t just go on with my life and forget about you, Lu,” I say, my voice soft but firm as hell. “I’ll sit right here and wait for you to come out again like a fucking creep if I have to.”  

He stares at me for a long moment. He looks… lost. Like he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that someone refuses to let him fade into nothing again. And for the first time since I saw him in that store—I see something break.  

His shoulders sag, just slightly. His fingers tighten on the handle. He nods once.  

“Okay.” It’s so quiet I almost miss it. Then he takes a deep breath, like it’s hard to fill his lungs with oxygen.  

Okay. It’s not much. But it’s enough for now.  

He doesn’t say anything else before grabbing his groceries and stepping out of the car. I watch him until the glass door closes behind him.

And then I cry.

--

Click here for the tag list ✨

@straw8berry @iinfinitelimits @belncaldern @starlightslvtt @number1yearner @fancyyanci @luigis-wetdream

[jeremysvoices]

okay, tangent about broadway time. this is just rambling, but others are free to toss their opinion in. or ignore me. this is just late night fueled and about 6 years late. (even though when I first heard it when it came out, I still disliked the things I dislike now.)

specifically, i need to talk about loser, geek, whatever (and by extension pitiful children). i need to clarify right now that personally, i loved the potential of the song. it had such genuine potential, and more of an insight into jeremy's mental state in the musical itself (debatable truly if we NEED this, but for the 2019 musical era. yeah i understand). but, within the first couple seconds, it drops the ball. it tries to copy some of the end of original upgrade, which is the transition into the song itself. but. it's not going to hit the same because the instrumentals and vocals are nothing like what they need to be. maybe i'm just too much of a will roland hater, but the song is way too upbeat for a song that's supposed to be declaring what he's declaring. (seriously bandwidth does not mean what they think it means) the whole mood itself just feels so... misplaced? why does he need to sing "wooaah uh huh! uh huh!" like what??

and then you get the to line "the problem has always been me!" that was great. it was genuinely great. but christ out of the whole entire song, and only enjoying that one part is?? questionable?? imo if the song had to be kept, start near the second half. they had a whole story shoved into this song and i will never understand why. AND EVEN THEN WAS IT REALLY EVEN SUNG, HE SPEAKS LIKE HALF THE FUCKING LYRICS—

honestly. they were trying too hard to recreate a michael in the bathroom moment for jeremy. wayyyy too hard. and i am well aware people wanted this, actually, and there being a lot of talk of how cutting michael off seemed so out of place and how this song helped people etc. totally valid, but at the same time, we see jeremys mental state and build up just fine without out. with michael, we literally do not. which is why when michael in the bathroom comes around and takes a swing, IT HITS. this was just dragging out a tense and spur of the moment decision to get another song.

but okay great! (debatably) depressing song. amazing. all for those. SO WHY DID WE CHANGE THE LYRICS FOR PITIFUL CHILDREN, HUH? I THOUGHT WE WERE GOING GUT WRENCHING. WHERES THE "YOU WERE ALWAYS QUITE THE LOSER, JEREMY" ??

WHY IS THIS FOCUSED ON CHRISTINE?? WHY IS THERE DIALOGUE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT THAT. LIKE. THROWS THE WHOLE SONG OFF. (YES I KNOW THATS THE ORIGINAL DIALOGUE, BUT HELL ITS DIALOGUE FOR A REASON NOT—)

JASON TAM WHY ARE YOU SAYING "SQUIPSQUIPSQUIP" WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE???

I have minor issues with Broadway Pitiful Children.

anyways, yeah. and then well, we can all agree jeremy in broadway is just a completely different character from like. any other media. he gets treated as a baby too much. but. that's discourse for another day.

[treble-maker1212]

How going through the worst years of his life made Andy Biersack A better writer: an in depth analysis on the evolution of Andy Biersack's lyrics.

Andy Biersack has always been a gifted lyricist. There is no denying that. It is baffling reading through the lyrics of songs like Sweet Blasphemy and Knives and Pens and knowing that they were written by a teenager. The lyrics of Carolyn are some I always point to when discussing his emotional depths that he has had even at a young age. A touching love letter about perseverance and staying strong to the mother of his band mate, Jake, who had confided in him about her struggles with depression. Andy has been able to touch people with his words from day one.

That takes us to Set The World on Fire. The Bands Junior album that had to surpass the first in every way(and did). This album is interesting to me because it is when we finally start to see the outside influences creeping in. We got heartfelt songs like Savior, a song musically written about the suicide of a close friend of Jinxx's and Andy was able to sit down and create the lyrics in 20 minutes. Religion has and will always be a heavy topic in Andy's writing, whether it's in the imagery or a blatant discussion on the corruption of the church like in the song New Religion where Andy says the line “You don't love a God, you love your comfort” in a rage-filled tone.

This album feels like a BVB record, of course it does, but then you have Love isn't Always Fair. A song that Andy admitted to only writing because he was pressured into writing a “sexy strip club song”. Andy wrote from the heart, he wrote of paint, triumph and showing people. Why the hell would he write about blow jobs and tits? It made no sense. Though I do love the song, it doesn't fit the band at all and is why we haven't seen a track like that from them since. You see that in tracks like Youth and Whisky as well.

This was also when we see bad habits forming. Andy was a young, impressionable kid who wanted to make it and a well respected producer is telling him he needs to drink before recording vocals. This was not the start of Andy's spiral as he had already started drinking to help himself be more social at parties before this. It was the beginning of the dependency though.

Andy was impressionable. Of course he was. He was young. This was when he started letting other people influence his art.

You see it in the imagery as well. Everyone in the band(except you know who) hated the Fallen Angels music video. It made no sense, it took an allegory and made it literal. They didn't understand the song and ignored Andy's input.

Even as a young fan who had barely gotten into the band, I could see that this video didn't fit the rest. Andy was 19/20 and being brushed off and ignored because he was young- Now obviously, this stuff isn't about his writing, but I promise, I'm getting to it, I'm setting the stage so to speak. To understand the changes, you need to know the reasons.

Now we find ourselves at the band's sophomore record. A highly anticipated album that had a huge album in their career to try and surpass once again. Wretched and Divine was the album where Andy started pushing more for his ideas which in turn, made certain people very unhappy. You see this in the Coffin music video. His hair is now shorter, his makeup is more minimal. Andy was tired of the glam rock and the poor caricature of what he had originally set out to create. This will be the first, but not the last time that we see Andy choose to burn it to the ground rather than fight to come to a compromise with someone who refuses to change.

So burn it down, he did.

Andy fired their old producer and scrapped everything they had worked on to work with someone else. He didn't want STWOF part 2. He wasn't about to become a self fulfilling prophecy. He needed to create. Andy, at 21 years old, wrote the storyline of what would become their most successful album while on a flight in his iPhone notes app. This was the moment Andy discovered his true talent in writing.

World building.

This album was exactly what the band needed. It was a brilliant Rock opera with orchestral pieces and an entire movie to go along with it. Black Veil didn't ask or beg for it to be made, they made it happen. We see Andy's writing broaden in this record and get their biggest song to date, In The End. A loving tribute to Andy's late grandfather that they play live to this day. This was when Andy finally started learning to collaborate and write with other people. He still made his voice clear without allowing it to be compromised.

This was, however, when we see his drinking take a turn. If you watch clips from the recording process of Done For You, Andy is bent over, barely holding himself up due to how drunk he was.

With every high must come a devastating low and that brings us to BVB 4

While self-titled is one of my favorite records from the band, this is the moment we really see what Andy calls the BVB mad libs. Andy was no longer writing from the heart, he was writing what he thought sounded like something he would say. While there are several tracks that are lyrically sound, I can see what he means. Andy had to drink a bottle or two of red wine every time he sat down to write. Andy has said that he is embarrassed by the lyrics on some of the songs from this record, admitting that he didn't even recall writing them due to how drunk he stayed. Andy has "jokingly" said that he doesn't remember most of 2014 and could you imagine that? He doesn't remember most of 23. I turned 24 a few months ago and I couldn't imagine losing a chunk of my life due to addiction.

But the main focus is; the thing he was most passionate about, he couldn't even stay sober long enough to do.

What was once an escape from the world and an outlet was now a chore. He no longer felt excited to create within the realm of BVB because he no longer had the freedom to do so. He was drinking heavily during the recording process and also going through undiagnosed health problems that nearly killed Andy. During Warped 2015, Andy stayed on his partner, Juliet's(now Lilith Czar professionally) bus to avoid his own. Andy was now at his all time low at this point in his life. He was drinking heavily to get through the days, his close friend passed away very suddenly, he was getting into fights regularly, he was on medication that was making him lose his mind, and now his own band was a waking nightmare to be in.

He had to get out.

Andy Black was announced under the guise of being a creative outlet so Andy could dabble in different sounds and genres without affecting the band. While there was some truth to that, it wasn't entirely true. Andy needed a way to continue making a living that wasn't going to affect him mentally.

This was when we finally saw a side of Andy that we hadn't seen in his past work.

Vulnerability.

If Black Veil Brides was about overcoming and being yourself through the face of adversity through world building and storytelling. Andy Black was an open diary. For the first time, we got to hear how Andy was feeling in a completely raw and unfiltered way. We learned of his fears, his struggles with mental health, his addiction(and two subsequent relapses in 2016) and his relationships. No longer were there veiled messages of his personal life through poetic Interpretations. It was just him.

A lot of people say that Vale sounds like an Andy Black record With more guitars, and I agree, but not in the way you think. Sonically, it is very much BVB, but now? Andy is being honest.

He is no longer hiding how he feels or what's going on. Through songs like When They Call My Name: a song about his severe struggles with anxiety and OCD and the devastating crash of everything he had been numbing with alcohol after sobriety and how his now wife helped him through it. We see angry songs filled with vitriol that can only be about one person truly. Tensions were high within the band because Andy wasn't staying silent in his songs anymore. This person didn't even work on the album, why would it matter to him?

Vale(This is Where it Ends) caused panic within the Fandom because Andy didn't hold back. “I can't put it back together. No, I won't put it back together. This is where it ends.” Andy took a stand. He was no longer going to be made miserable, he was no longer going to keep the piece. If it broke then he was going to add the gasoline and the matches to finish the job.

Andy had said by the time the last tour with BVB came along, he was fine around alcohol and wasn't tempted, but then they're on tour and Andy is talking about staying on a separate bus that is dry because he “didn't want to ask the band to not drink"(a request they were happy to oblige to during their 2021 tour cycle mind you)

We hear the band talk about going to bars, about CC's collection of White Claw. Hell, there is even a selfie of Andy and Lilith on the bus in 2022 with a bottle of alcohol on the table. Andy wasn't bothered by alcohol, but when he had to be on the Resurrection tour? He feared relapse. After two years of being sober and speaking of how he didn't even think of drinking anymore, he had to stay on a completely different bus and not allow drinking or smoking on it to fight the temptation.

Andy left that tour with the resolve that he was having to start over. He wrote The Ghost of Ohio, and album filled with obvious hints of his struggles during that time, including the very heartbreaking Westwood Road(if you haven't read the lyrics to that Song, it is not as fun as the music Makes you think) the Martyr, a fuck you to a lot of people and Know One. If you were a fan during this time, you know that essentially everyone blamed Andy for the band not touring. He was hated by everyone and couldn't defend himself because of an NDA contract that no one in the fandom was aware of.

This was a critical moment in time. Andy was so miserable within the setting of BVB, that he heared ruining his sobriety if he was subjected to it much longer.

“I can't change the way they look at me, I won't show you what you'll never see”

Andy understood that he was going to be the villain in this story, but he was going to make peace with it. This album shows how Andy has truly come to understand his voice and how his words and lyrics affect things. He learned that even if people hated him for what they perceived him to do to the band, he could still find an audience within Andy Black.

2019 comes to a close and DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD.

Lonny is now in the band and this was when we see Andy truly come into his own as a lyricist for BVB. He no longer feared writing how he felt(with songs like the Vengeance being a clear fuck you), he no longer hid behind allegories and fables, hoping people will understand what he's getting at; but he's no longer laying it out on the table completely raw and vulnerable. Andy found a middle ground, writing one of the best albums they have ever put out(The Phantom Tomorrow) and then putting out one of the most emotionally raw EPs I've ever listened to(The Mourning.)

Better Angels and Savior ii is an incredible example of how Andy has developed as a writer. They are completely raw songs that tell you exactly how much he has struggled in the past few years. Devil is a fuck you to Trash man and the Revival was a simple question of how the fuck do we get ourselves out of this?

The answer was simple. Lonny Eagleton( @ethan-elliott is writing an essay on that so follow him for whenever he posts it).

In short. Andy has always been a gifted storyteller and could touch people with his art, but it took a long road of pain, suffering, and growing up to come into his own as an artist. I don't believe that you have to go through a lot to come into your own, but it certainly helps.

Now we have some of the best music They've ever put out, exciting, conceptual art for a new era, a documentary, and a book series. Andy proves that it doesn't matter where you came from or what you've been through, it all comes down to how you are going to channel that pain. Will you choose the path of self destruction or creation? Only you can make that choice for yourself.

[propepsi]

Okay. Listen up Weezer community. Why do you guys hate literally every Weezer album there is? This fanbase is so divided it's actually insane. If you say you like an album, somebody's gonna tell you how much they hate it. If you say you hate an album, somebody's gonna come after you and call it a masterpiece. I think the only exception to that is the blue album because how do you hate blue. That being said, here are my opinions:

I like Raditude. It's fun and silly and a real connection to youth. Plus, Put Me Back Together is a hidden gem and y'all are SLEEPING on it. (It's my favorite song so if you haven't heard it, please give it a listen.) Also, I hope you realize that Can't Stop Partying is SATIRE and that Rivers didn't even write those lyrics; they were given to him.

Pinkerton is fucking weird, but it's also a good album. Across The Sea is diabolical, but everything else on that album is pretty great, weird as it is. (Hell, even Across The Sea has a good sound if you ignore the premise and read a little deeper into it.) Pinkerton was an essential album. It reflects Rivers' depression at the time after the release of Blue, which was misinterpreted by the audience at the time. The whole album is about the deeper, darker, more honest parts of himself, and I appreciate that about this album.

Red is a fantastic album, and y'all need to give some love to The Spider. That song is wonderful. Red actually might be my favorite Weezer album of all time. Cold Dark World is kinda trashy, but it has a good sound. Plus: Scott Shriner has a kickass voice and I will be hearing nothing else. Also, Automatic isn't even close to being bad. Y'all are just weird.

Green is also a fantastic album. It is simple and somewhat pop-y, but goddammit it's a good album. The lyrics may be a little in-genuine, but they're still Rivers, and they're not devoid of feeling like every says. Emphasis on O' Girlfriend.

Blue is objectively fantastic, but that's not really controversial. I don't think I can name a time I've come across an avid hater of blue. It's their first album, so even if you don't like it, you just have to respect it. Also: Buddy Holly is a good song. Deal with it. Also, No One Else is a satire piece.

Make Believe is NOT as bad as y'all say it is. I've edited this post, and before I said that Beverly Hills was the only Weezer song I didn't like, but that the rest of the songs were really good. I've changed my mind. I don't know if it's bias or not, but after more listens, Beverly Hills has actually grown on me. I think this album is essential especially because of Pardon Me, a song in which Rivers gives his heartfelt apology for hurting those around him in order to be a 'better rockstar.' Also, Haunt You Every Day is a fantastic track.

Those are my strongest Weezer opinions laid out. I really wanted to voice some of my positive beliefs to spread around the joy of Weezer's music instead of trying to hate. But, all in all, we all have the right to our own opinion. Although this fanbase might not agree on everything, at the end of the day we all know what their best album is, and that is Christmas with Weezer.

[miaountainmama]

silent

characters: tecchou, gn!reader contains: suicide mention but things turn out alright for both of you

wc: 1261

a/n: inspired by radiohead's exit music (for a film) and that one time during lockdown when i got really depressed and realized i understood why people kill themselves. was going through it

If there was one thing you did and did well, it was sing.

Tecchou was used to it by now— coming home at night to hear you blasting your favorites and singing along, whether it was to oldies like Frank Sinatra or some random ass TikTok sound you couldn’t get out of your head.

But the house had been worryingly silent as of recently, and Tecchou was starting to take notice.

He could sense the change in you, ever since you told him the meds weren’t quite working yet. You were singing less and less, and when you did sing along to something, it was something worryingly depressing, something with lyrics that scared the living shit out of him. He tried to ignore it, he really did. He told himself you were just venting your frustrations, that it was just words someone else had written down. Still, he could hear the melody replaying over and over again in his head, your haunting voice sending chills down his spine. If this is what your voice held in store for him, he didn’t want to hear it.

He didn’t want to hear you talk about killing yourself ever again, even in song.

There was a chill in the air tonight, and, while Tecchou normally welcomed the colder air, this time it bit to the bone. It was an unnatural kind of cold, the same kind of cold that reached into the night and froze anything, the same kind that ushered the living indiscriminately down the Styx. His footsteps quickened against the freezing concrete sidewalk— he would be glad to escape the bleak conditions. He turned the corner and welcomed the sight of the familiar house up the way, already eager to see you again.

He got about halfway up the driveway before he realized the lights weren’t on.

This wasn’t entirely uncommon. A lot of times you fell asleep early, or you just felt like chilling in the dark when you were alone. Today? It felt like a premonition. As excited as he was to get home, he now suddenly felt very, very hesitant to open the door.

He lingered for a little while longer on the doorstep, heart beating out of his chest for reasons he couldn’t quite discern. Perhaps he was overreacting. It was just the lights… this was normal, right?

Right.

He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, almost wincing as the creak of the door cut into the quiet air.

“…My love?” he called into the stillness, faltering as he stepped through the threshold and heard no response. You were always home at this hour, so why?

Tecchou moved further into the house, flipping the lights on and setting his hat down on the kitchen counter. He called out again, the festering dread in his stomach churning. No response. Maybe you were in the bedroom…?

As he approached the room, the first signs of life hit his ears— the sound of music! The dread began to fade, though he frowned in distaste as he realized what song was playing. It was the end of that accursed song you were always listening to about suicide. He sighed minutely, reaching out to enter the room so he could kiss you better and tell you to change the music.

The door swung inward, catching on an empty bottle of pills that spun and rolled away upon impact. The song, finally ended, began to replay, having been set on loop.

It took a second for Tecchou to realize exactly what that could mean. The moment it hit him, he immediately tore his widened eyes from the pill bottle, panic clawing through his veins, and strode in two strong steps towards the side of the bed, where your figure lay covered in blankets, tearing them aside and revealing where you lay curled in a ball, eyes closed.

Your eyes sprung open as the warmth was torn from you, cursing under your breath as you turned away from the wall to face Tecchou.

“What the hell—“ you began, ready to hiss at your boyfriend for interrupting your brooding, before you took in the expression on his face. 

For the first time ever since you had met him, Tecchou looked terrified.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, and you blinked at him stupidly for a moment, wondering what on earth had him so worked up. Then, he was on you, hands cupping your face, turning your wrists up towards him, checking every inch of you despite your sputtered protests, and you connected the dots. The empty pill bottle you had knocked over earlier and were too lazy to pick up. The depressing music. Your lack of response and limp body.

God, your boyfriend had thought you tried to kill yourself.

“Tecchou,” you managed, suddenly feeling extraordinarily guilty, and the feeling only increased as he looked up at you with worried amber eyes. “I’m fine. I just ran out of meds today. I need to pick new ones up tomorrow.”

He stared at you for a moment, you staring back, before he let out a shaky breath, scooping you up into his arms. You didn’t fight it, clinging tightly to him back, and you muttered out apologies, trying to soothe his anxieties.

“I… thought you had…” Tecchou spoke, and you shook your head from where it was buried in the crook of his neck. You vaguely took in the fact that his hands were slightly shaking around you.

“‘m sorry, Tecchou… I was just… really going through it today,” you managed meekly, one hand going up to thread through his hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t answer for a long while, just holding you, and you listened to his breath finally stabilize. You toyed with the ends of his locks as you waited for his hands to stop shaking, pressing a kiss to his jaw to reassure him further. Somewhere down the line the depressing song you had been listening to looped for the umpteenth time and you hastily turned it off, electing to sit with him in silence and not worry him further.

Eventually, he pulled back from you, an unusually serious glimmer in his eyes as he looked into yours. 

“Promise me,” he said suddenly, and you shifted a little as the words sunk in, looking away. Promises were hard to keep in times like these.

“Promise me you’ll keep trying,” he modified his words, and you slowly nodded through your hesitation. This… this was something you could do.

“Okay,” you breathed, hands moving back to sit in your lap, where you fidgeted with them quietly. “I promise.” You reached up then, holding your hand out to him, and extended your pinky towards him. He looked down at it quizzically before glancing back up at you, and the most minute of smiles graced your features.

“I pinky swear,” you said solemnly, and he stared for a second before smiling slightly back, interlocking his finger with yours.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warned, and you pulled him close again, resting in his arms with a newfound sense of satisfaction. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head in response, and you smiled a real, genuine smile, the first in what felt like days.

“Of course,” you replied, and nestled closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and you laid your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat by your ear. You would do it. You would overcome this.

If not for you, then for him.

[cryingmeganekko]

Chihayafuru Hitomebore/ Love at First Sight symbolism

I know this is already a reddit post but I wanted to delve into it a little more so you might be familiar with what I'm going to say for Chihaya, but the rest have more symbolism than what the reddit post said. I'm going to credit it just in case I get anything wrong. This is a whole Taichi fest, the song lyrics, the symbolism, everything mwuah chef's kiss plus it made me a Taichihaya stan. Btw this is one of if not my favorite series

https://www.reddit.com/r/chihayafuru/comments/fnpn6q/chihayafuru_3_companion_guide_s3e23/

Wataya's Wisteria symbolize love, support ( his team ), Our expanding consciousness ( y'know after his grandpa died, his depression, and learning from Chihaya) , Tenderness, Bliss, Wisdom, Immortality, Nobility ( his grandpa being the past meijin ), and Sensitivity

Chihaya's Cosmos symbolize Purity, Harmony, Humility, Autumn cherry blossom, Chastity, Delicate aspects of love, Mother's love, Femininity, Deep romance, Maiden Japanese heart, Love, and Cleanliness

Taichi's higanbana/red spider lilies and butterfly are so great together let me tell you

Ok so basically the higanbana symbolizes Never to meet again with lovers ( him and Chihaya?, have not read the manga yet because I'm poor and I also need, high emphasis on *need* to learn Japanese ), Abandonment ( You know the deal with him Chihaya and Arata ), Hell ( I mean his whole not being able to see the cards thing and his pining for Chihaya ), Afterlife, Equinox which in itself symbolizes let go of your past, and Reincarnation ( moving on maybe, manga readers tell me I'm wrong, Taichihaya stans tell me so too, please yell at me in the comment section), and immortality

Then the swallowtail butterfly, Ageha 揚羽 omg you can't tell me I'm wrong about these butterflies. The f-ing autumn butterfly and Chihaya with the other autumn flower/tree I can't take it anymore. They symbolize Metamorphosis, Love ( Taichihaya ), Womanhood, Grace, Free nature, Departed spirits, Hope, Endurance ( his life ), Change ( maybe moving on again, but feel free to attack me ), Life, and It's Raised Wings have too much symbolism for being free ( but of what )

Ok then we have Yuki Suetsugu herself subtly saying that she loves Taichi but wants him to be free of something even if it's Chihaya. With both poems 43 and 46 which is Taichi's

46 means

Crossing the Bay of Yura

the boatman loses the rudder.

The boat is adrift,

not knowing where it goes.

Is the course of love like this?

Suou says this for card 43 S3E19 08:22 - Suou: "Senpai, that poem... is a poem about knowledge that can fill you with either light or darkness."

https://karice.wordpress.com/2016/02/29/p493/

Q: In the manga, in conjunction with the feelings and situations that the characters face, you turn the spotlight on poems that deal with a whole range of emotions, including (romantic) love. May I ask, which of the 100 poems is your favorite?

My favorite in terms of meaning is “When compared to / the feelings in my heart / after we'd met and loved, / I realize that in the past / I had no cares at all” (Poem 43, translation by Moscow). Having been ignorant, once you know of it, you feel like all the cells in your body have been reborn. I think that everyone will undergo that experience several times in their lives, but there are few poems that express this feeling in words.

Then we have the poems relevance in the endings

I know the significance of the the three main ones

Poem 17 Chihaya's is on top of both 11 Wataya's and 46 ( the topic of the day ) Taichi's

I'll quote the reddit person on the significance of them all being like that

"And finally, we can come back to the three poems that are in the front and center at the start of the ED. Here, we can see #17 is on top of #11 and #46. Topically, both #11 and #46 (our Poem of the Day) cards are about being exiled on boats:

Card #11 - My only thought as I am put out to sea is to ask the fishermen to tell the people in the capital that I make for the islands.

Card #46 - Like a boatsman adrift at the mouth of the Yura, I do not know where this love will take me.

It goes without saying that the card on top, #17, is Chihaya, who is the love interest of both #11 for Arata and #46 for Taichi. #11 is a "Wata" card, which shares Arata Wataya's name. The poem was written by Sangi Ono no Takamura, who was exiled to Oki Island after refusing to participate in an embassy assignment to China. Although the poem speaks of being exiled and away from "her", Takamura was ultimately allowed to return home after being pardoned a year later. On the other hand, in our Poem of the Day above, we can see that #46 is Taichi's card, who was stranded adrift because his "oar-string snapped" -- a far more distressing and harsh reality than Arata's."

Please tell me the significance of all them as I have the ogura hyakunin isshu penguin classics translated.

There are also two maps in the back of the ogura hyakunin isshu to know where all the poems came from

Guys I'm f-ing singing this for a Talent show too

[paperstorm]

Hello, regarding your last post of “answering a question” ref TK’s OD incident. (Anon asked if TK was being too dramatic to kill himself due to Alex cheated on him? Was it an accidental OD or did he mean to kill himself?) I'm sorry that I don't seem to be able to add a link to the OP.

I’m not entirely sure whether I should just ‘reblog’ whilst adding comments or write it as a separate piece. In the end I decided to message you like this. Because I realise that it’s going to be a rather long one. Please ignore this if it’s tedious & unnecessary. 

Where do I start? It’s ‘silly’ in a way to discuss such a heavy topic - OD/suicide of a fictional character. Yet, it dawdles in my head, I have to let it out, otherwise it will just stew my heid.

When I watched/read TK’s incident, the first thing that crops up in my head is Ian Curtis, lead singer of Joy Division. (Ian Curtis killed himself in his home in 1980 at the age of 23, following a breakup with his wife.) I have no idea how many people in this fandom know about Joy Division (& British post punk Indie rock, new wave rock in general? Glorious music, one of my favourite genres.) I must say that Joy Division and some of their songs are just perfect for TK, for his relationship problems, drug issues, his self-destruction, his depression, mental health issues, guilt, self-loathing, despair… And above all: his desperate, yet pure & infatuated desire for love and being loved. 

(Ironically the band’s called Joy Division - there’s Nothing joyful in their music whatsoever! It cannot be further from the truth, I find their music excruciatingly depressing. LOL I don’t often listen to their songs, too bloody grim.)

One of the Joy Division’s songs is called ‘Disorder’, in which Ian sang, “But lose the feeling. Feeling, feeling, feeling… …” (It’s so painful to listen to, from the very first time when I heard it I felt so ‘gutting’, but I never thought that I’d have the opportunity to see it being visually played out - until now, by TK.)

Remember that TK’s words: “It’s just grey…. And I just feel numb all the time…. I just wanted to feel something…” I cannot think of a better piece of lyrics depicting TK’s feeling more accurately than that. The bleakness, the pain, gut wrenching as hell. 

Coming back to the OP: Is it OD or deliberate suicide? I agree with your analysis - it’s a combination, a ‘long-time-coming, multifaceted, naturally aspirated & engineered tragedy’. It’s a manifestation of one’s existential dread, unfortunately it’s deadly. Fortunately, TK was lucky enough to be saved on that one occasion and more importantly, ultimately saved by Carlos. 

I read a few of your Tarlos fics (I Love them all!), I know that you don’t shy away from talking about mental health issues, you skillfully dissect human emotions, relationship dynamics, psychological impacts on both parties in a relationship… I love how you tackle such complex issues, you deal with them beautifully, with such elegance & love. So I worked up my courage & write this to say: what a big impact your writing has on me. Thank you!

Extra: 

Here’s a little piece about Ian Curtis, written by Peter Hook, the bassist of Joy Division/New Order, published by the Guardian 13 years ago: https://www.theguardian.com/music/2011/jun/14/joy-division-ian-curtis-suicide

I like Joy Division! And definitely agree some of their songs are perfect for season one TK when he’s in all that turmoil, those are great lyrics for him.

[aslongasimhereyoureinvincible]

what are your neurodivergent headcanons for hq characters?

asdfjhgfds sorry this has been in my askbox for a few days ive been busy w/ Life Stuff TM but anyways ND haikyuu headcanons lets gooo

hinata:

ik bc hes Sunshiney and Loud lots of ppl read hinata as adhd, which i can deffo see, but personally i read him as autistic

hes extroverted and good at adopting introverts (kageyama, kenma, yachi, tsukki) but when u stop to think abt it hes also actually kinda bad at social ques and 'normal' behaviour?? i think ppl dont notice bc hes also rlly nice but hinata is actually pretty blunt lmao

his special interest is literally volleyball cmon now

its canon that he dislikes being in classes too long or doing homework bc he finds sitting still for too long difficult, both me and my autistic older brother used to get up and pace around our classrooms when we were younger

even though hes rlly athletic and has insane reflexes obviously, hes also pretty clusmy and especially bad at judging distances which to me looks like dyspraxia which is really commonly comorbid w/ autism

ive also read a few fics where he has tourettes syndrome w/ body tic and i can deffo see why ppl would hc that

idk hes just reads as autistic so well in my mind like idk why its not a more common take

kageyama:

this one is less of a headcanon and moreso just interpreting the text correctly; hes definitely autistic

like its my belief that furudate either knowingly wrote kageyama as autistic or like based his personality off of an irl autistic person they knew or SOMETHING bc its actually insane how well he reads as autistic

the lack of social skills? the anger issues? the deep special interest in volleyball? the just wanting to express your feelings/opinions but coming off as rude but not knowing how to fix that? middle school being a living hell? having that one family member who Got you? the high level of skill in one particular area? hes literally the texboox definition of autism

even the little things like how he files his nails and jokes go over his head and he accidentally insults ppl bc hes calling it how he sees it and how he basically had no friends growing up bc he was too focused on volleyball and how he struggles to smile on command like!!! thats autism babe!!!!!!

oh also hes dyslexic bc im dyslexic and i say so

ushijima:

same as kageyama i bet he was either knowing written as autistic or based off of an irl person who is

blunt as all hell, monotone voice and facial expressions, volleyball as a special interest, bad at social interaction, accidentally rude, the list goes on and on

like his whole thing about how his left handedness makes him different but is also a gift that benefits him in some ways? thats a metaphor for neurodivergency dont @ me

oikawa:

i hc him as having narcisstic personality disorder, not in the ableist reddit-user 'all ppl w/ npd are evil manipulative abusers' way but in the ' i have npd and know what it actually looks like' way

hiding massive insecurities by acting like youre amazing?? that fuckin marina lyric thats like 'i feel like im the worst so i always act like im the best'?? that was abt oikawa tooru and npd

feeling threatened the second someone as good or better than you shows up? fixating on one specific thing that you have to be the best at? those are npd as fuck traits

the way he can basically get along with anyone and adjust his play style to suit them but only has a few close friendships where he can let his true personality rlly shine through

hes literally so npd coded augh <3

bokuto:

i read him as adhd and having cyclothymia

i think he was unmedicated in high school and unknowingly had depressive and hypomanic episodes which affected his play

he also very much reads as having rejection sensitive dysphoria if u ask me

and the way he talks and bounces around and has All That Damn Energy gives me adhd vibes, esp pared w/ his poor volume control ad the way he ignores social cues lol

okay quickfire round bc im getting tired of typing

atsumu is autistic, so is osamu for that matter, theyre just at very different points on the spectrum and rub each other up the wrong way a lot of the time bc of it

kita is also autistic bc no neurodivergent person is that particular about doing things the 'right' way

hoshiumi is autistic and adhd

asahi and yamaguchi read like they struggled w/ anxiety and depression

sakusa has ocpd and ocd (contamination ocd specifically) and mysophobia

kyoutani has aspd, again not in a 'aspd = violent agressive psychopaths' way but in a 'i actually have a cluster b personality disorder' way, and adhd also

kenma is autistic and has social anxiety

yachi has social anxiety too bc cmon now

tsukki reads to me as having chronic depression, i think i could also make a case for him being autistic too ngl

tendou is some flavour of neurodivergent, probally audhd, probably some other stuff, idk but hes definitely not neurotypical

like hinata, lev reads as autistic to me even tho hes got that goodball energy thatd make lots of ppl read him as adhd bc like,, he just fuckin sucks at social interaction like he is accidentally rude all the damn time lmaoo

fukunaga and aone are both autistic w/ selective mutism and/or partial to moderate non-verbalness

obviously its none of my business and i think having headcanons abt irl ppl is Fucking Weird but i wouldnt be surprised if furudate themself was autistic bc truly so many characters in haikyuu can be read that way if u ask me, although maybe im just projecting lol

[quintenrosenburgwrites]

mirren sketches >:)

lyrics are from Mixed Messages and Red Flags btw

OH ALSO i wrote some dialogue stuff, see under the read more! warning for some humor that's way more nsfw than i'd usually post (i mean. come on. it's dialtown. they're awkward as hell. they're obviously gonna say something questionable /lh) also some more serious stuff (self hate issues, depression, anxiety)

Nice/Fun stuff:

- They say pretty much everything that comes to mind, and once they get a train of thought it doesn't take long for it to derail and crash through a small community, leaving a trail of destruction behind it. TLDR they're really rambly.

"Birthdays are kinda weird. Like obviously there's the whole counting down to your death thing, but also, like. You're basically celebrating the anniversary of you getting evicted from your mom's, uh. You know. Okay that sounded REALLY, extremely, UNCOMFORTABLY Freudian. Can we PLEASE pretend I never said that? Thanks. Oh, right, the murder case."

- They have a tendency to just accept things and move on without commenting further.

"Oh. You lay eggs. Anyways, can you help me break into the ticket booth? I need to check the entry records."

- They're a fucking dork /pos (They're really sweet, but in a convoluted way)

"I, uh, please don't think this is weird, but I made characters for both of us! This one's named May, and they're kinda a failure. They failed their parents, they failed their old best friend, they failed their job. They used to think they had no redeeming qualities. Then, one day, they meet the other character, Ginger. Ginger seems terrifying initially, and even if it isn't obvious at first, they're not actually human. Ginger and May go on a journey in which May tries to learn magic in order to protect people and redeem themself for their past actions, even though they despise the idea of learning magic, but, eventually... Ginger helps them see their own value, helps May see that they're a person too. They are allowed to be selfish sometimes, they're just as worthy of happiness as anyone else. And, uh, maybe... Maybe that saved their life a bit. And maybe, May is allowed to do things for themself sometimes. Ginger means a whole lot to May, even if they have trouble expressing it, and... uh, I guess that's everything. Um. What do you think?"

Serious, bad stuff:

- They see very little value in themself, and tend to expect others to insult or make fun of them. To combat this, they typically are quick to insult themself, in an attempt to get there before anybody else can. It hurts less if they're the one saying it.

"And before you say it! I know it's super annoying when people are constantly insulting themselves, cause like it comes off as compliment seeking, right? I promise that's not what I'm trying to do, I'm just kinda trying to warn you I guess? But, uh, that's still no excuse, and I can totally just shut up if you want! Or, wait, I shouldn't have assumed it's annoying you, I could just be restating what you're thinking? I mean, the things I'm saying about myself aren't exactly incorrect- Just, let me know if I'm being annoying. I'd rather shut up than annoy you, haha. ha. Wow, that sounded fake."

- They tend to blame everything on themself, and act very self destructively.

"Oh god, this is all my fucking fault, I'm so sorry. It's okay if you hate me- or, no, you SHOULD hate me! Fuck, I'm- Why did you even talk to me in the first place?! Do you realize- If you just- You would've been better off if you just walked past me and ignored me! I need to- This is for your wellbeing, being around me is only gonna make things worse for you. I'll be fine, just- Don't follow me. I mean, I don't know why you would in the first place."

- They put everyone else before themself.

"I need to make it up to them, even if I ruin my life in the process. It's not like my life was looking particularly bright in the first place, which is entirely my own fault, so, y'know. Yeah."

[pardonmydelays]

fave lyrics from "hurricane"? 🌀

this is the one i've been waiting for. one thing about me is that i will listen to hurricane on repeat. all day. it's one of the best songs from hamilton (in my top three next to my shot & yorktown). this song cures depression. this song is like oxygen. this is the only song ever. & if you disagree, you are simply just wrong. i am hurricane stan first, human second. if hurricane has no fans, it means i'm dead. ok, let's get to the point:

when i was seventeen a hurricane destroyed my town, i didn't drown, i couldn't seem to die - the i couldn't seem to die always breaks my heart... it's also super personal to me for reasons i don't really want to explain here.

i wrote my way out of hell, i wrote my way to revolution, i was louder than the crack in the bell, i wrote eliza love letters until she fell, i wrote about the constitution and defended it well, & in the face of ignorance and resistance i wrote financial systems into existence, & when my prayers to god were met with indifference, i picked up a pen, i wrote my own deliverance - no because if you don't love this entire moment in the song are you even a hamilton fan? are you even a human? this right here is the best quote from the entire musical & especially the last line, like... DEAR GOD IT'S INSANEEEEE. WHO WRITES LIKE THAT. LIN, STAPH.

i'll write my way out, overwhelm them with honesty, this is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only way i can protect my legacy - once again hammy talking about legacy is my favourite thing everrrr

honorable mention: the rest of the song

bonus 1: just felt the need to leave it here:

bonus 2: actually, just watch it. i absolutely love the studio version of hurricane, but this one is much more emotional & i love how he is literally screaming my favourite line (as he should tbh):

[ithinkineedamoment]

1. Neon Bible - Arcade Fire

1 of 1000 - Recordings

This project is almost 15 years in the making. Had I been wiser at the debilitating age of 12, I’m sure writing for the sake of writing would have come to me a hell of a lot more naturally than it does now.

Regardless of that, it looks like a 26 year old me is finally getting around to it.

At the tail end of 2010 - I was living in Ramstein, Germany where I found a copy of Tom Moon’s 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die. I (my dad) bought it for $15 and there I went becoming evermore insufferable thinking I’m the first person who ever discovered 10 by Pearl Jam. I quickly found two more versions of the “1000... before you die” list - movies and places. Armed with these three lists, I set out to conquer the “best” of the “best” and do obviously do it before I die.

Lofty goals.

But I’ll unpack that I’m sure in a later essay.

Since that time, I’ve plowed through 430 albums, 574 movies, and 142 places. But what of it? What does it matter? Is it enough to watch “Schindler’s List” in a double feature with “The Sound of Music” once and think I can fully process what I’ve experienced? Fuck no!

So in an effort to combat that insanity - I’m starting this project. I will write something on each and every entry of these lists. Will some be long? Absolutely. Will some be short? I hope so. But what is the point of consuming what is meant to be essentials of a lifetime and not give it a second thought? There is of course the argument that these lists are arbitrary and are actually heinously filtered through the lens of old, Cis, straight, white men and women. This idea will undoubtedly come up several if not a thousand times and I don’t think I can ignore it. What I’ve gained, however, from venturing down this yellow brick road of content is greater than the sum of its parts and that is what is interesting to me. How has inundating myself with this “canon” for most of my life shaped who I am and where has it led me?

So as an artist who is constantly stonewalled by the mere act of creation, I asked myself - where do I start? How does this project begin?

Randomly, obviously. I had Sergio scroll through the lists and pick whatever caught his eye.

Somehow, picking Neon Bible by Arcade Fire makes sense.

With this very first entry I begin with The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, the 2013 adventure comedy starring and directed by our pal Ben Stiller. For the uninitiated, this movie features Ben Stiller as Walter Mitty, an employee at Life magazine who is forced on a Carmen San Diego-esque adventure to find Sean Penn in the mountains taking pictures of snow leopards. And it ROCKS.

Everything from the settings to the humor to Adam Scott’s haircut screams the spirit of adventure. I remember sitting in the theater watching this movie having goose bumps down my arms as Mr. Stiller ran for that plane - reading the Life Magazine motto: “To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, to draw closer, to find each other, and to feel, that is the purpose of life.”

Fuck meeee, it’s good.

My depressed ass sat there smiling and crying - thinking of how much of the world was out there - all the places I’ve never been and the adventures I’ve never been on. It was enough to keep me going, even if it was only for the rest of the day.

The part that I really want to draw attention to, however, is the song that plays over the scene that I just mentioned. As the words of the motto appear hidden in the scenery, a sick fucking guitar lick kicks in. Suddenly, the absolutely bonkers Arcade Fire hit, “Wake Up” is blaring through the speakers and I am transcended. From their 2005 debut album Funeral, “Wake Up” has been included on all sorts of best songs of 2004, the decade, the century, of all time lists. With lyrics touching on the embarrassment of youth and the gift of growing up, it’s one of the most inspirational songs I’ve ever heard...

(until I listened to the soundtrack and realized that to SOME people, the song “Wake Up” was never in the movie and instead the absolutely DNA-altering Jose Gonzalez song, “Step Out” took its place. Dear Reader, please note it’s a detail I’m moving on from since these songs exist simultaneously in my head for the same reason and since I have Google I found out a licensing issue made us all watch a different version of the movie. Leave me alone).

Ever since that day - whenever I’ve embarked on a new journey, I’ve played these songs. When my plane took off from Germany back to the states, when I walked on my college campus for the first time, whenever I start a new job - they become the soundtrack to my life. “Children, Wake up” to “House on fire leave it all behind you”. It’s the music to my proverbial first steps into my new life.

So again, it’s fitting then, that the first recording, the very first essay of this project, is Neon Bible by Arcade Fire. Their sophomore album released in 2007, Neon Bible is an extrospective triumph of organs and religiosity exposing the world for what it truly is in this post-9/11 hellscape. Full of angst and persistent drums, it’s truly no wonder how this album crosses the boundaries of what is Indie and what is mainstream.

Relistening to the album this morning and thinking about this project, it almost makes too much sense to start here despite its randomness. Take for example the opening track, “Black Mirror” which in my sleep depravity I could have sworn was the intro to “Changes” by David Bowie. Here, Win Butler muses on the notion of the “black mirror”, an unrelenting echo of all the worst parts of ourselves and our world. Impossible to separate from the contemporary connotations of the words “black mirror”, we quickly realize this album is not interested in the joyous release of

Funeral. We’re confronted with screens, cameras, and content - the black mirror of a sleeping iphone or of a buffering video. What does it mean to see ourselves in that reflection? We’re beholden to it.

As we continue through the album, we’re bombarded with rising crescendos of emotions that dissipate uneasily like unlit waves at night - “Black Wave”. There is no comforting exaltation or resolution of discord. It’s isolating! Butler says so himself in “Intervention”: “We’ll go at it alone”. As the number of black mirrors around us increases, the time spent as an individual also increases. It’s interesting that so much of the imagery evoked in Neon Bible is that of the ocean - black, reflective, ever expansive. This brings to mind another song from a few years later: Los Campesinos!’s “The Sea is a Good Place to Think of the Future.” It should be obvious enough from the title as to why I think this is relevant. The rocking guitar of this jam sways back and forth like the crashing of waves as the lyrics wax poetic on what it means to be alone - “and all you can hear, is the sound of your own heart” - and how hopelessly small you can feel in front of an unchanging ocean before you - “A thousand years, no getting rid of me”.

This cynicism, this anger, I feel is what fuels this album. There is no joy in the face of the “Ocean of Noise” in front of us. There is no reconciliation at the church of the “Neon Bible.” There is nothing new I can say on our modern relationship with technology or media here that hasn’t been said already in a New York Times Op-ed. We are losing control of ourselves to an ocean of influences, media, thoughts, and content. We can scream, and we can shout, but the only escape - according to Arcade Fire - is the place where “No Cars Go”, the liminal space between turning off the lights and before we fall asleep. There, we are finally free from the world and all its power over us. This is the craven freedom that brings the album its only truly joyous song.

So I guess it’s now that I’ve realized the point of this essay - the point of this whole project. I’ve spent years of my life thumping the bible of a church that doesn’t care about me. These lists have become a religion - a system of other people’s beliefs in what should be exalted and glorified. I’ve consumed the content I was told to consume and thought what I was told to think. I don’t think that I’m alone in wanting to challenge “the canon” either. There will always be an unavoidable conflict between what is experienced and what should be experienced; I’m just no longer interested in justifying one over the other. I refuse to let the ocean carry me away. Just as Arcade Fire has ushered me into new phases of my life, Arcade Fire will now usher in a personal rebellion that hopefully will manifest itself across this project where I can Reflektor on what it means to be me.

I have no idea what this rebellion will look like - but my body will no longer be its cage.

[moonriseblueeyes]

I'm going to say it and some might hate me for it. Hell, most might just ignore me and it's fine. I just want to vent.

I decided to listen to the album, obviously like most folks are...even though it might take me a few days to get through with my schedule.

I love the banger that is "But Daddy I Love Him," but it also makes me feel so...disgusted. In a way with her, but in a way with myself? Which doesn't make sense since fans do nothing wrong by not supporting her decision to date a legitimately BAD GUY. Like, not a BAD GUY in a COOL way that isn't cool but a BAD GUY...the extremists with the letter and all that will be extremists. Hence, why they are called as such. They are not a majority of fans.

And after Snake Gate, calling them vipers?

The lyrics "I keep my side of the street clean" end her show every night. She is now dropping verses that yell out fuck YOU SNAKES for calling her out on dating a sexist and racist. Do your own sweeping...

I like her as an artist (I don't worship her), but this almost...hurts in a way. I just know that if my friend dissed me for calling out her racist, pig-headed boyfriend I'd be hurt as hell.

And don't get me started on her exposing Joe's depression and victimizing herself for it...

-Done.

[spicy--meatball]

ranking 550+ music genres: PART 9

oh god i forgot alt rock was a thing.

(25) Alternative Rock

This is where I'm getting tomato'd probably... this shit mid. And guess what, this is another genre that happens to place a lot of importance in lyrics, at least as far as I can tell. This is what all the kids are bumpin these dayz. Mid mid mid. It is a little bit interesting that this is a genre that both plenty of straights and plenty of gays listen to regularly. I think the joining factor has to be self loathing. I have depression too but not like This.

This is going in "No, I don't think I will" because I don't care anymore and I don't care to hear more of this. Goodbye.

Alternative Rock song rec

(26) Ambient House

yippee yippee yippee yippeee

Aphex Twin Time

Bump ts while I'm sorting through our disaster of a soda cooler at work. This music is colorful and curious and blobby. Unlike the previous genre this sparks a sense of wonder. Everything is squiggly and at peace. This is a pretty recent genre I've taken a liking to. I can ignore the world and retreat into my mind. So much creative potential.

To be honest, I haven't really dove deep into this genre, I have mostly been on the outskirts. But I am more than willing to dive deeper. Almost every song is intriguing and interesting to me. I can picture a variety of different shapes for each song. This genre is also weirdly nostalgic, despite having never been familiar with ambient house as a kid. This is good music to study to but also good music to just listen to on its own I think. Each song is a new, entirely foreign and conceptual environment to explore.

I can virtually guarantee a vast majority of people would put alt rock above ambient house. Maybe one of you will enjoy my takes.

My friends and enemies, this is our second "🗣️️‍🔥️‍🔥".

Ambient House song recs

(27) Ambient

Now, this is a genre that I used to listen to a lot since I used to write and draw a hell of a lot more. [Post-writing-this-post-edit: it wasn't ambient but dark ambient, usually].

The "ambient" I'm finding on spotify is a little more... socially acceptable than the ambient I used to listen to? As in, there's a little more substance to these songs than the hours of droning and occasional other song elements that would interrupt that I was accustomed to. Like I was on that "2 Hours of Dark Ambient Music Compilation" on youtube type shit (now that I'm listening to ambient vs dark ambient, what I just described is closer to dark ambient than ambient).

Obviously, somber movie scene type shit. It's simple in composition usually but leaves you with a lot to think about. The world is large and you will never know everything but you can learn a lot in one lifetime. Go learn things. It's ok to make mistakes. That's something I need to drill into my head. Make sure your loved ones know how much you appreciate them. Time is fickle. Do something nice for someone this week. You are more than you can ever know. Be at peace brotha.

This is going in "In the right time and place, fuck yeah" because sometimes you need this type of shit, idk. But this is not something I would listen to regularly or throw on the aux, ykwim?

Ambient song recs

hmmm... the current tierlist perhaps. if youre pissy about my opinions you can garbage react me or something idk