#this song is beautifully devastating

[rachthepoet]

Falling Analysis

This ballad of beauty doesn't receive the flowers it deserves, even as the years grow between the album's release and now. I'm left puzzled as to why people refuse to let themselves fall into the eloquent melancholy that is Falling. He's haunted, he's all-consumed, he's drowning — and all outcomes of a battle with self-hatred and inner combat. Despair and insecurity in his persistent questioning as he hits rock bottom — he has crashed and is left wondering about everything he's ever known about himself and his identity.

This, I believe, is how Falling hits everybody differently, but all come out with a lingering sense of sadness and grief. The song structure encompasses all aspects of loss: of something, of someone, of a relationship, and — the most heartbreaking to listen to and witness — of yourself. The song, in itself, is a decline in both lyrics and composition. An emotional decline, a physical decline. The feeling of the stomach dropping, falling, as the hideous truth one's tried to hide for so long comes to one's eye level, and there's an inability to run anymore.

Here's a deep dive into Harry Styles' Falling, from a poet.

Song Associations

Much like with Cherry, Falling is essential to the sophomore album's narrative as it branches out to connect with other songs in the selection. For specifics, I find this is most true with associations and allusions to Lights Up and To Be So Lonely.

Let's start with the Lights Up to Falling pipelines. Loneliness is prominent in the foreground of the latter song, but there's a deeper root to these problems that feels akin to the Lights Up, where the speaker has stopped to ask himself what he's become. There's despair and insecurity in his question as he hits rock bottom in Falling, almost seamlessly molding into the dark side of Lights Up. The lowest point of everything is when you think you've found yourself but can't see it the whole way through. The feeling of being about to fall and the fear of never being able to find the way back to the surface for a refreshing breath. Though different wording than the prior, Falling presents the audience with another opportunity to wonder do we know who we are -- and, does he know himself?

Finishing with the Falling to To Be So Lonely pipelines. And it follows the established idea of this song facing the darker side of things. These two songs are a pair of sisters in the album, with Falling as the older sister. My reasoning? To Be So Lonely still holds some innocence and playfulness, but, with Falling, it's as if the innocence that was once held onto has been brutally ripped away. The sophomore album is focused on discovery, specifically moments of self-discovery, and Falling captures the essence of the darker moments of that introspection. The drowning.

Lyric Pull Apart

[VERSE 1] I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage left

I'm in my bed / And you're not here: Here, I don't think the bed is a bed, but rather a symbol for relationship and intimacy, as the speaker places himself in a vulnerable position at the top of the piece. Lying with one's significant other is intimate and precious, so, to highlight the absence of another and notice a proper vacancy — depicting his loneliness in the same bed that once easily enveloped two — sets the tone effectively and quick. Then, a direct address to you. The audience here, we are very much bystanders, almost intruding on this. In two opening lines, the feeling of isolation is set up soundly as vulnerability lies bare.

And, before chugging along, I feel obligated to add how I find a striking parallel back to 2017's Meet Me in the Hallway and From the Dining Table with recurring themes and motifs of the bedroom and the loneliness of finding a vacancy beside oneself.

And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands: Often, this line is interpreted as an admittance of infidelity. I'm not ruling out that interpretation entirely, but it irks me when people refuse to elaborate past that. A line always has a possibility of multiple layers. So, the speaker's blaming himself immediately for whatever has gone wrong — self-admittance and self-hatred solidify themselves early for it then to be carried out throughout as a core theme.

The drink represents unhealthy coping mechanisms — makes a call to MMITH, to me — of trying to dull his senses to hide away from the pain that comes with aforementioned and foreshadowed self-admittance and self-hatred, as well as isolation, both physically and emotionally. Now, with his wandering hands, we can bring back the infidelity, but also tie it to the lines before, and with more nuance — wandering hands as he's reaching out for the person that's supposed to be next to him in this bed, but he can't feel them anymore.

Forget what I said / It's not what I meant: In Harry's pieces, it feels inevitable that one will stumble upon the inability to communicate. And maybe this is another moment of self-admittance for the speaker here, an awareness and another thing he takes the blame for — in miscommunication, there was unraveling, and in unraveling, he has found himself in this engrossing moment of isolation and melancholia. Pulled under the currents of it all.

And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage left: The baggage image encompasses the song in its entirety, for it feels like there's an unspoken weight being added to him constantly, with every question and thought that he faces through the duration. And, with this weight, the song dips down, mirroring as he does so. He's falling, he's sinking, and no hope can be seen. Combined, then, with the lyrics that precede it, another moment or self-admittance and realization arises — he realizes that what has been said and done can't be taken back and now he's left with wounds unable to be healed, as he grapples with moving on from the guilt. The guilt almost manifests into rocks in the speaker's pockets, causing him to sink under, further and further, into this despise for the self. His own self.

[CHORUS] What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

I adore this chorus. There's something to be said about the chorus being filled to the brim with rhetorical questions, for it only amplifies the loneliness and isolation from all else. Belting out these questions, in a way that seems like he's begging, pleading, for the answers. Looking for the resolutions. But, nobody is going to answer him back, and he's stuck in a spiraling loss, and, from the repetition and other stylistic choices, listeners can pick up on this separation by ear.

What am I now? / What am I now?: An echo of Lights Up, regarding struggling to find oneself. But, then, add on more nuance with the context of this song exclusively, and we are witnesses to an identity crisis catalyzed by losing someone one's gotten too attached to. Falling for, cherishing, loving, indulging, and losing oneself to. With the loss of someone he could've put his whole identity into, he can be left with this remaining unknown who he is and who he has become. Hence the begging for answers with What am I now?. This leads to confusion and chaos, this debate of who's become — ultimately creates this feeling of falling and drowning.

What if I'm someone I don't want around?: Another moment of self-hatred, a conversation with oneself though phrased in a question — a stylistic choice to emphasize the internal struggle, flux, and doubt. Another moment of placing the blame on himself, a much more subtle form, but still everpresent.

What if I'm down? / What if I'm out?: This worry of the speaker losing himself to the point of no return, and worrying about losing himself in all aspects. Running out of those healthy coping mechanisms that are now tainted by this guilt and weight he carries, as he sinks further and further. Under the water, under the currents of this falling.

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?: Still craving for validation and affection, an ache to not become just a memory in the other's head while they still have much power over him. There's an anxiety that the other will move on, and he will no longer come up in their conversations — maybe even a step above, moving to unfiltered fear. He's still struggling, and he fears that they won't struggle like he is.

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin': The use of again implies that this is a repeating thing, perhaps cyclical. This isn't the first time the speaker has felt himself drowning. Not the first time he's grieved the loss of something, someone, of a relationship — or, rather intensely, the loss of self. And, again, there's an admittance that he's falling, he's fallen, he's drowning, and he's calling out for help in this isolation — but, again, his own voice echoes back around him amidst the spiral.

[VERSE 2] You said you cared, and you missed me too And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

You said you cared, and you missed me too: This feels reminiscent of the bargaining stage of grief, trying to find anything to rectify this sinking feeling, a moment of negotiation. Maybe he's trying to shift his focus to a moment when they were trying to work it out — note the past tense use in the verse itself, for it alludes to reverting to a memory — to temporarily bring a little control to his mind.

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you: This person is familiar to him, and he can't get them out of his head, no matter how he tries to shake them out. They keep showing up in everything he does, as he continues to allow himself to fall into the habit of them taking control of everything he does. And, truly, I adore this line, from the moment I first heard it, for how honest it is. Almost conversational, too.

And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe / And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say: These two lines must stick together. A certain scene materializes in my head with this, and, yes, of course, I'll invite you in.

Picture this: He and the subject have met up to talk. The coffee's out, the coffee has just been served to them at the cafe, steam still rising from the cups and flushing their faces. And, they've already run out of topics to discuss, they are at a loss of what to say to one another (miscommunication). All the two can do is silently stare at their individual coffee mugs.

Or, with a bit of variation: He and the subject are sitting in silence, not knowing where to begin talking to the other, running out of words to try and thread together. And, in the silence, they drink their coffee dry until The coffee's out, and still, no resolution or communicative progress has been made.

This bit in the second verse perfectly illustrates the dread felt when one has fallen out of sync with someone one used to be so connected to, with someone one's known for a while. Someone integral to the other's routines. Showing how you can be together physically, meeting up for coffee at a familiar cafe, but still be far apart emotionally. And, the thought crosses the mind: We're different now?

[CHORUS] What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

Returning to the chorus, the falling feeling remains prevalent. All these rhetorical questions are put out into the void. Admitting that he is falling, slipping from his own values and identity as he figures out who he is now that he's isolated. Or, falling deep into unhealthy coping mechanisms, as this song seems to allude a time or two or three.

[BRIDGE] And I get the feeling you'll never need me again

A singular line sung, but one of my favorite bridges. As mentioned before, the speaker still clings to this craving for validation and attention from this person, the very same person who has left him sinking — this craving to feel wanted and needed. He knows he's dependent on this other person being in his life, as he's stuck with this doubt of his identity — and the fear that seems, as other lyrics suggest, one-sided. The line, structurally, is fairly simple, but the impact when Harry belts it out is beautiful and unforgettable. It gets me every time.

I think the most important aspect here is the verb — to need. The other won't need him anymore, even if he has convinced himself of their possibility of wanting him at some point. It's been so long since they've grown apart that they've existed apart. Maybe, also, this is a path to him realizing he doesn't need them anymore either. For this bridge to be as gut-wrenching as it is, it's this acceptance of how this other person doesn't need him anymore, but, god, he oh-so-desperately wants them to, and wants them there. And this fear of irrelevance regarding him in their mind haunts him evermore.

[CHORUS VARIATION] What am I now? What am I now? What if you're someone I just want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

Another return back to the chorus, but now with a variation. Still framed with rhetorical questions and no answers to be given back to him, a one-man dialogue as he juggles self-admittance and self-hatred. Repeated that one too many times, I fear. But, now, given the addition of What if you're someone I just want around?. Here, in the final reiteration of the chorus to cap off the piece, he leans more into the one thing he's certain about while drowning in this sea of doubts and debates — he just wants them around, and he feels that desperation with certitude. He just wants them around more than he wants to be around himself right now, he just wants to feel their touch and be pulled out. But, he keeps falling. Falling again. In this cyclical plummeting. He's falling again. And again.

dedicated to this anon <3

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[never-blooms]

destellas el cielo y ahoro te celebro

fantasmas - humbe

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I could write a bajillion posts about Hum Hallelujah on here but if one person asked me to explain how I feel about it and why in real life I don't think I would be able to get a coherent sentence out

[pipperoni32-blog]

A Song to Drown Rivers

by Ann Liang / 5 stars

**expected release date October 1, 2024**

I finished this one after a sleepless night, when pain kept me awake. What a fitting companion, one that did not contribute to rest once it was finished. I've sat with this book in my thoughts for the day, and I'm still at a loss for what to say. This one broke me, and I have a feeling it's going to haunt me for awhile.

I wished to weep, but my own tears felt insubstantial, a broken gesture. The feeling swelling within me like churning waves was greater, heavier, absolute.

This line resonated with me, a driving force as I read on.

Normally, love triumphs. There are clear heroes, we get to root for them and applaud when they save the day. We hope, and the tide swells and everything is right, as it should be, in the end.

What happens when it doesn't?

In the kingdom of Yue, they've been oppressed and broken by the Wu invaders. They've had no choice but to surrender, and the Wu monsters continue to bully any they find in their path. Two girls are chosen for their beauty, to become gifts to the Wu king. To lie in wait, to spy and plot, to be the key to the Wu downfall and the vengeance of the Yue.

Xishi is to become Fuchai's concubine. Zhengdan her palace lady. Before they are taken to Fuchai, they go to the Riverside Cottage, where Yue Minister Fangli trains them. Zhengdan is a blade and has studied with swords in secret. Now, she's given the chance to learn more. Meanwhile, Xishi learns the art of ensnaring men. Of hiding her feelings, crafting a mask so she shows only what she needs to.

Xishi's attraction to Fangli was strong after he saved her from a Wu warrior at the river in her home village. Before he knew who she was, that small connection formed. Now, they must ignore the call that is drawing them to one another, and instead Xishi will be sent to Fuchai. Her mission is to captivate him, to entice and bind him until he craves her. Until she can trick him into building a way into the Wu kingdom for the Yue invaders.

Xishi is driven by her own need for revenge. Her sister was killed in front of her, and she's never made peace with the missing space her sister used to fill. To get revenge for Zhengdan, whose father was killed in battle. To all those who have fallen, the king who's been humiliated, for Fangli, who suffered at Fuchai's hands. She must be committed, to never forget as she lives in the luxury of the enemy. As the months turn to years, as Fuchai's love and obsession for her grows.

Who are the winners in the games of kings?

[oakpear]

The Secret In The Wall - Daniel Hart

A Ghost Story (2017) dir. David Lowery

[daisynik7]

and if I'm gonna be drunk, I might as well be drunk in love

You squint your eyes at the pink neon sign flickering against the fake moss tapestry to the left of the bar. A young couple poses in front of it, smiling at their mutual friend who holds the phone to take a picture. Beautiful, radiant, charming. All while you sit on the barstool, hunched over the half-empty cocktail that you swirl in your grip, relishing the condensation on the rim of the glass. With your straw, you stab at the maraschino cherry floating around in there, popping it into your mouth. The sweetness cuts through the bitter liquor, or loneliness, lingering on your tongue and you think that maybe tonight isn’t so bad, despite your sulking.

It's another happy hour, courtesy of your boss. Everyone on your team is here, who you genuinely get along with, no problem. But there’s one person missing, the one person you want to see the most. Nanami is the only one to decline tonight’s invitation to the new trendy bar downtown. During your lunch together, you don’t ask why. You don’t want him to suspect that you’re devastated by his decision, which you are. So, you talk about how much you’re craving cake instead, changing the topic all together, hoping he doesn’t catch the hint of sadness in your tone.

Ever since he walked you home in the rain the other week, protected under his umbrella, there’s been this obvious vibe between you. Still, it could all be wishful thinking on your end. You never did get around to confessing your true feelings for him; you’d rather enjoy what you have as it is. Why ruin something good? There’s the hope that maybe things could be even better if you take this leap of faith. But it’s always terrifying taking the plunge, isn’t it? Especially when you don’t know if you’ll sink or swim.

It was by the fourth cocktail that you decided to leave your group gathered around the back table. That’s why you’re here now, sulking between strangers at the bar, chewing on your tiny straw until it’s gnarled on one end. Your friends on the team know the real reason, trying to dismiss all the jokes from your more annoying coworkers about how you must be missing your “work husband”. Even they’re shipping the two of you together. If only you knew what Nanami truly thinks about all this. About you.

To your complete shock, it doesn’t take you long to find out. Still in his work attire, Nanami walks through the front door, hair swept beautifully as always. As soon as his eyes find yours, he smiles, making his way to you. It’s only when he approaches you that you notice a small box in his hands. “Good. You’re still here,” he says, smile growing wider.

You blink at him several times, as if you’re not seeing him clearly.

“Can you come with me? I have something for you.” His voice is trembling slightly, excited.

You nod, still rendered speechless, wobbly as you follow him outside. When you’re alone in front of the establishment, the voices of those inside muffled and distant, you stare down at your shoes, anticipating what’s about to happen. He holds the box out to you, opening the cover slowly, revealing a personalized cake decorated beautifully with your name written in neat frosting on the top.

You meet his gaze, putting your hand to your mouth, hiding a gasp. “Nanami.”

“I made this for you. Because of what we talked about today.” He swallows hard, taking a step towards to you. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now. I…” He trails off, nervous, scared, uncertain. Just like you.

This time, you follow through with what you’ve been wanting to do since that rainy night not too long ago. You close the distance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Sparks fly and whatever buzz you have from the alcohol is replaced with this electricity. “Me too.”

Author's Note: A continuation of this. Yet another coworker!Nanami drabble inspired by a song that’s making me feel all sappy and soft. 🩶 Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

[strwberrykisses]

it is so absolutely, irrevocably heartbreaking to me that john and paul no longer exist together, and that there is a chance, depending on your belief, that they never ever will again.

whether you believe they were platonic or romantic or whatever else, there is no denying they were two souls so made for eachother, so perfectly intertwined and matching like two pieces of a puzzle, more so than almost any other duo in our history. and because of the selfish decisions of another person, an outsider with delusions and a deranged nature, those two souls have been split up and taken from eachother and it just absolutely makes me so devastated to think about.

It’s very difficult to look at john in all the beatles interviews, especially early ones, and all those clips from the 70s and all those songs with his voice, and recognize that he is gone.

He exists in memory and in spirit and in the stories and songs of Paul, the books and the art of Cynthia, the faint memories of Sean and what it was like to have his father in those early early years. Even in some of the photos Linda left behind. But in the end, that is a person who no longer exists in physical terms. That no longer breathes or has a thought or feels a certain way when they wake up in the morning. That lives a life. It was all taken. And because of that, such a perfect pair will possibly never, ever get to exist together again. Paul is stuck here with all of us, missing someone with no physical connection anymore. Dreaming about him, painting him, being forced to speak about him in almost every interview even though it’s got to hurt.

I just don’t understand how you can see a pair of soulmates, of best friends, of two people that entranced with eachother, that beautifully connected, all of it from some kind of divine intervention, some kind of special moment in our stars that caused them to be put in the same place in the same era at the perfect moment as the other, and want to rip them away from eachother so cruelly.

all I can wish is that when the time eventually comes and paul passes, that they end up back together, somewhere peaceful like Paris with Elvis records and banana milkshakes and their Mary Julia star and endless fields of strawberries.

[mockerycrow]

PROLOGUE — THE SOUL (Ghost x GN!Reader)

the soul masterlist

summary; laswell is providing you one possible last chance. will you waste it? callsign used is maverick.

[WARNINGS; anxiety, slight paranoia, slight angst.]

The blood in your head rushes underneath your skin as you stare blankly at the floor, sitting uncomfortably on a too-harsh, poorly produced plastic chair that’s digging into your sit bones, your hands on your knees with a slight grip on your kneecaps. A low, uneasy rumbling sensation grows in your gut; it's deadly silent, the exception being the clock up on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock, Tick—

You don’t jolt when the door opens with the click, but your right index finger lifts for just a moment. You don’t look up either, swallowing harshly as the figure approaches you with light footsteps. The muscles in your shoulders and neck twitch and slowly begin to tense up, a slight ache developing already as your fingers dig into your kneecaps as an attempt to settle rolling thunder in your stomach. A pair of dark brown leather women’s loafers come into view, your eyes studying the shiny material for a moment.

“Maverick.” Laswell speaks firmly, her voice low and serious. There’s a bite of irritation coming from her—a word of warning, almost. You bite down onto your lower lip for a moment, your upper canine tooth sinking in as you lower your shoulders, however they aren’t any less tense than since the first moment you stepped into this room. Your eyes move from her loafers up her dark gray dress pants, up her white dress shirt and finally focusing in on her face. Laswell’s eyebrows are furrowed together, a wrinkle in the middle of them, her eyes narrowed. You can see the corner of her lip is curled a bit upwards. Her bun is nearly perfect, her bangs sitting beautifully across her forehead.

“Laswell.” You echo easily, your voice low in your throat. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Your eyes flicker down to the manila folder in her hands, multiple packets and mismatched papers stuffed into it. Your eyes squint for a moment with recognition; your file.

“You already know what I’m going to say, aren’t you?” Laswell questions, a hint of exhaustion her words—you can’t care enough to decipher if it’s because of you or not right now. Your eyes flicker back down to the waxed floor to where her feet are. Your hands let go of your kneecaps, instead letting yourself lean your forearms down on your thighs and partially onto your knees. Your hands hang between your legs, your back bent down with your head looking down. “Yeah.” You utter, feeling the tension in the air thickening by the second.

Of course you know why you’re here. You always know why, because it’s your own doing. Being called into Laswell’s office—or asked.. More like commanded to answer her phone calls—is practically a hobby for you by this point. You could recite the lectures you’ve gotten like the way a bad yet catchy song is something you find yourself singing to yourself. One part of you is amused with how you haven’t been discharged yet. How haven’t you been is one part miracle, another part devastating. For you or the people around you, you cannot quite tell yet.

“You have a problem, Maverick. We need to fix this.”

You nearly snort, leaning back upwards with one forearm on your leg, your palm grabbing your other knee. “Like I don’t know it.” You mutter, your voice a bit gritty from how low you speak. Laswell makes a displeased noise, her eyebrows tightening together. “This isn’t funny.” Laswell says firmly, her tone stern and unmoving. “I’m not laughing.” You easily retort, your face tightening for a hot moment. You’re both silent, almost like you’re in an unofficial staring contest until Laswell mutters something unintelligible, leaning back against her desk and putting your fat file on the top of some other papers. “I need you to listen to me,” She begins, putting a palm on her knee, smoothing out her dress pant-leg. “They’re considering letting you go.”

That gets your attention right quick. Letting me go? You think to yourself, letting your facial features do the talking for you. Laswell lip twitches, her fingers brushing across her bangs to “fix” them. She’s stressed. “..They need me.” You say slowly, your gaze watching her much closer now, trying to read every part of her body language. “Yes, they do, and I’m trying to do everything I can for you.” Laswell avows, her tone stressing her words. Her fingers twitch where they rest on her knee before she pushes herself back to a proper standing position, her hands in the front of her. Your heart tightens in your chest for a second as you watch Laswell struggle to find her words.

“Look.” Laswell sighs out, her voice serious as you make eye contact with her once again. “I can try—I’m not saying I can, but I’m saying I might be able to provide you one last chance.” Laswell presses her lips together for a moment, silence overtaking everything between you and her. “You are aware of what this means, right?”

You almost want to laugh in her face; how could you not know? Instead, you offer a more polite response—a simple nod.

“I’m serious, Maverick. I’ve tried to pull every single goddamn string I have, all for you. They want you gone.”

Ouch.

“I get it.”

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes until pain prickles at the corners of the nerves in your eyes and you see stars, as well as colors. You inhale deeply, painfully aware of how much space air takes up in your lungs, aware of the way your chest expands until you slowly exhale. You sit up straighter than before, putting your palms back on your kneecaps, lifting your head to look at the woman in front of you. “I get it.” You repeat, quieter this time, but not any more soft than before.

Laswell’s eyes scream doubt. They scream disbelief, anger, worry, and burning determination. “I already sent your file over to your last chance. I’m begging you to straighten yourself out, Maverick.”

You only offer a shrug, your mind struggling to comprehend what this could mean for you. You’ve thought of this moment for months—over a year by this point, honestly. Now that it’s finally here, you aren’t really sure what to make of it all yet.

One last chance. Maybe.

🏷️; @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @mushr00mf00d @queen-leviathan @specter319 @morganight @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @elliotisgae @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolaaloolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff @tipsykeen @sweetcorpse

wrongfully tagged or you no longer want to be tagged? let me know, no hard feelings. :-)

[marcusnotbrutus]

Comments on Falsettos recording describing people's experience with pre-revival casts & being gay in the 80's and 90's

for @holdwinetosky

“I lived in Manhattan in 1981, met my husband that year.  We lived through the AIDS drama of real life on the Upper West Side. This show speaks to me on So many different levels.

Saw this production  on Broadway shortly after it opened. Crazy, Intense, Wonderful .

Just like it was in 1990 as Falsettoland at the Lucille Lortel, and when it first moved to Broadway as Falsettos in 1992. Saw the original casts of each, and each production multiple times (1 time with Mandy Patinkin as Marvin), saw the road companies that came to Philadelphia........etc...lol

Freakin Love this Show."

@ rugby8-Philadelphia 

“Saw a traveling company which came through Phoenix, AZ. I left Manhattan in '81 as numerous friends were getting ill and shortly thereafter died.  This show made me laugh out loud AND cry out loud!”

David Helmstetter (@ davidhelmstetter6661)

“Thank you. You signed my program when I was a kid. I waited by the stage door. My Mom didn't want to see the show at the time. She turned into the most accepting woman and this musical changed my life. xo”

@ castChicagoactors

“An absolute perfect moment in theater... this opened in nyc in 1990!!!!! We all had just lost lovers and friends and it was still raging without any meds.  Vowing to "buy the farm arm in arm" was and still is the most moving loving words to hear so beautifully sung”

Jeff Schecter (@ jeffschecter4543)

“I saw Falsettoland at the Theatre De Lys in the Village shortly after my brother Marty died of AIDS, and I have never cried so hard in my life as during "What More Can I Say" and "Unlikely Lovers."  I cried so hard that in part of my brain I thought someone might escort me out of the theatre, but there was nothing I could do about it, Michael Rupert you gave voice to everything I felt and there was no stopping it.  Thank you thank you thank you.  Of course saw the short multiple times on Broadway and afterwards in various productions and I will just never forget this song and that moment until every brain cell I've got has given up and every memory is erased because this is the such an honest statement of what love is all about.  To all of you in the show and William Finn I am forever grateful.”

David Fleischer (@ davidfleischer455)

“Thanks for posting, Michael.  Today, after 29 years together, my husband and I are legally married in our state of Georgia.”

@ theBestArts

“I have seen many Broadway musicals in my day. Over one hundred original and first run shows since 1980. I can honestly say without heistation that Falsettos in 1992 is the best musical I have ever seen in NY. The ensemble cast, simple set, lyrics, and use of character to tell a story is a perfect example of theatre art. Every theater lover should have seen this one, it is a masterpiece. Chip Zien and Barbara Walsh shine in every performance they give.”

@ muscled57

“I saw March of the Falsettos in 1980 and marvelled at it's musical brilliance and ended up seeing it half a dozen times. Then I saw Falsettoland a decade later which devastated me with it's sensitivity and humanity. Years later I saw a regional production of Falsettos which is the combination of the two shows and was enchanted and remain grateful to Mr Finn for writing such a masterpiece of musical theatre that I could see again and again.”

@ donovan3535

“I was fortunate enough to be reach up and touch Mr. Patinkin at the Golden Theatre in February, 1993, during his run with this amazing show. Those who don't think he made a good Marvin: I have to disagree with you completely. The man is one of the best American talents alive today and gave an amazing performance, in my opinion.”

@ dyabolykyll

“I can't believe I've never seen this before. I've sobbed all the way through the second act. Such strong memories of my dear friend Sammy, who died in 1993. The last time I visited him with my kids, he asked if he could change my daughter's diaper, and afterwards he cried because I wasn't afraid.

 It hits so hard for those of us who were young adults when AIDS came on the scene. People were afraid to be in the same room with someone who had it, much less to touch them. It made hand holding and hugs mean so much more."

@ VeracityLH

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Forget the horror here.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Words count: 1445

Rating: Mature (but there’s only allusions to smut this time)

Warnings/Tags: Javi’s POV for Poison and Wine, Internal conflict, sad thoughts, mention of Javi’s work, sweet Javi, bad at feeling Javi, love bites my friends, sad ending.

A/N: Poison and Wine can be found here, I promised a second part from Javi’s pov and here we are. I hope you’ll like this.

Titles comes from one of the most beautiful gut wrenching song I’ve ever listen, Spanish Sahara by Foals.

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

You are the easiest thing I deal with during the day. A relief, a safe haven to return to.

When I approached you for the first time I did it almost without thinking.

It had been a terrible day, I had lost half of my men in an ambush and that piece of shit had managed to escape again. The drug lord, may the devil take him.

I had entered the bar with an unbearable weight on my shoulders. I should be used to it but I'm afraid I never will. How could I get used to seeing death and destruction all around all day.  

You were at the counter, you were wearing a dress that slid down your hips in an absolutely crazy way, you were breathtaking.

You were laughing, talking to the bartender.

I had nothing to lose, I ordered a tequila and spoke to you.

We chatted for a while, you seemed so spontaneous, confident, funny.

And you were beautiful, you have eyes that could stop time.

I felt almost clumsy in front of you.

Like a young boy.

A really weird feeling for someone like me, I usually just take what I want.

I've paid for sex several times, I'm certainly not a saint.

I'm not even a total asshole, so I tried to treat you with respect.

I'm sure you knew exactly what I was looking for so I didn't look for excuses, it would have seemed to me to offend your intelligence.

You are a smart, proud, free and independent woman. Fierce and incredibly charming. You smell like sugar and taste like heaven.

I figured it all out that night and it hit me hard.  

That's how it started.

I was convinced that it could be a loophole, a distraction.

 I ask you to see me to shake off the images of devastation that I have to face every day.

It's easy not to think of anything else being with you.

A glance is enough for you to understand what I need.

I would never tell you about my job, I can't and in any case it wouldn't be fair.

That's not what I want to do with you.

I don't want to talk.

I don't want to analyze anything.

I just want to let go and forget the rest.

There’s too much pressure on me and I feel liberated with you.

I always try to be cautious and watch my back for my own safety but most of all because I would never want to put you in danger. You have always lived here so you know well what the situation is like in your country. You are certainly not clueless and you have your own problems to take care of, you don't need mine.

I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.

I leave you in the dark about this but I hope you have understood it.

You did, right?

 Sometimes I think you're too much for me, I don't deserve you.

 You are disarming.

 The way you melt under my hands drives me nuts.

The way we have sex is amazing, every time.

 When I’m with you, I feel like I finally find peace.

Your skin is soft and warm, your neck so delicate, your lips turgid and delicious, your breasts beautifully designed to fill my hands, your legs toned and sensual, your sex wet and sweet under my tongue. 

And your eyes.

 Your eyes are so intense, deep, every time I stare at them I feel a fire burning inside.

I noticed how they try to discover me, to understand something more about me, some secret that I try to hide from myself too.

Every damn time I sink into you I feel like I've been pardoned by God or whoever for him.

 I don't know how else to describe it.

 We are in a shabby motel and you radiate beauty around even in a place like this.

 I fucked you right away, without a word, it was one of the usual horrible days and I wanted to leave it completely behind.

I know I'm not an easy man.

My bad temper gives some problems even at work sometimes.

 I wish I could be more serene, have a more stable life, be able to offer something more than sex.

 I wish I could take you to dinner in a nice restaurant, give you flowers, make you feel like I care.

I would like to take your hands and tell you that you are the best thing that has happened to me in years. 

I would like to tell you how much you are helping me. 

I don't even know how I can think of certain things when the situation makes them impossible.

I became a sentimental fool.

 Sometimes I feel like you want to ask for more and every time I hope you don’t.

I can't, you know I can't.

Should I put up with seeing the same look on Connie's face as she watches Steve leave without knowing if he'll return?

Yes, I am a coward when it comes to this, my courage is all absorbed in work, even though I often feel like it's all for nothing.

I run from one side of the city to the other in an attempt to achieve something, to at least partially solve the chaos, the fear, the guerrillas. 

Every small victory pales into insignificance in the face of another death.

This place has a lot of hidden secrets, I can't imagine them all.

If I succeed in eliminating a small part of its evil, I know that there is still so much that it wouldn't take two lives to defeat it completely.

I feel like I will never be able to hold anything in my hands, like I will never get close to the end.

 I only feel some kind of comfort when I'm inside you.

I've been with a lot of women but none has ever made me feel like you do.

I can't tell you that.

I can't risk it all.

I can't let you walk into my life any more than I already have.

What if I let myself be totally vulnerable? What if you lost me? What if I lost you?

I closed my eyes to make you think I was sleeping.

You were watching me, I could feel your eyes on me.

 You looked away so I wouldn’t notice, but I know.

Damn it.

Please don't do that.

It crushes me.

I'm quickly getting attached to you and I feel it's the same for you.

I have to back off.

 I have to be able to leave you out of all the crap that grips me.

From the horror that haunts me.

Your eyes are fixed on a point on the wall, seemingly careless. 

I still feel your warmth, the taste of your skin, the sweetness of your body, your moans of pleasure.

You have a power over me that makes me restless, hungry, eager.

I reach out to stroke your arm and you give me a smile that hurts my soul.

God, you are so beautiful.

 I would like to start all over again.

I would like to grab your waist with my arm and draw you back to me.

I can't get enough. 

Every time I touch you, every time I kiss you, every time I hear your tongue dancing with mine, every time I bite your neck and feel your smile on my skin, every time I smell your fresh and flowery scent, every time I sense you tremble with pleasure, every time I hear you scream my name I hope it never ends.

I get up without saying anything.

It's time for me to leave.

I take my clothes from the chair, while I hate myself.

My fucking stubbornness, my fear of getting close to anyone for fear of hurting them, my obstinacy in living a lonely life.

I hate all this.

I have to live with it but it hurts like fucking hell.

I get dressed feeling like a bastard.

I just wish everything was different, easier, I wish I could have you every day.

I’m the fury in your bed.

One day I'll just be a ghost in the back of your head.

Tagging @aurorawritestoescape and @thundermartini that were both so kind and encouraging and enjoyed the first part of it ♥️

Thank you so much 🥰

[doyou000me]

Love In The Big City series adaptation: Episodes 1 & 2

Many thanks, as always, to @lurkingshan and @bengiyo for keeping the book club and the discussions going!!!

Ok, so I love the adaptation, and if you’ve seen any of my other litbc posts this past week, this isn’t news to you. I have raved about Nam Yoon Su’s portrayal of Go Young, and plenty of you have agreed with me that he’s doing a fantastic job. Long story short: the first two episodes far exceeded my expectations and I am deeply impressed with what they’ve done in pretty much every aspect of the adaptation. 

Apart from all the gushing, the end of episode two also left me feeling a bit heavy. Several posts have already been made about how lonely Go Young is, and I can only agree. Part of the reason why it’s taken me a full week to write this is because my thoughts and feelings (and notes) have been all over the place, but an attempt shall be made at shaping this mess of impressions into a reflection on how the adaptation differs from the source material, with inspiration from Bengiyo’s discussion questions. Primarily, I’ll be focusing on how the portrayal of Go Young and Mi Ae’s relationship differs from that of Young and Jaehee in the book. 

When I first read the Part I of the book back in February, I wrote about Young and Jaehee’s QPR (queer platonic relationship). I wrote about how, in the eyes of society, a QPR is seldom acknowledged as a “valid” relationship and is, therefore, often pushed aside in favour of romantic and sexual relationships—and I wrote about how, in spite of (or perhaps because of it), Jaehee leaving Young read to me as a break up. 

Now, in the series, we have Go Young and Mi Ae, and I think the intimacy and mutual support of their relationship is beautiful on the screen. I love the scenes with the two of them in the apartment, doing skincare and chatting about boys and bickering. I love how comfortable they are with each other. I love how true and honest and open they are with each other. I love how they stand up for each other, how they are sisters in arms, loyal and fierce. 

They might be broke britches, but they are loyal bitches. 

It is precisely because their relationship is so beautifully portrayed that I love how devastating it is when Go Young glances at Mi Ae’s turned back, when he stands on the other end of the stage alone, and when he tries to hold back the tears through the lyrics of a love song. I love how clearly it shows that yes, they had a relationship and yes, Mi Ae left Go Young and yes, she chose a heteronormative relationship over the beautiful one that they already had. 

While a lot of scenes mirror the book very closely, some changes have been made (as many have already noted). To me, the effect of these changes is that the story of Go Young and Mi Ae feels far less isolated and more tied in with the rest of Go Young’s life. In Part I of the book, Young and Jaehee are the only two characters we truly get to know; K3 (Nam Gyu) and Jaehee’s Oppa (Jun Ho) are never named and mainly represented in sparse sentences, while the T-ara’s (Go Young’s friend group of club gays) don’t turn up until later in the book. While it is clear in the series that Mi Ae is the only one Go Young is truly close to, the vacuum that existed around him and Jaehee in the book has now been filled with side characters. 

Another noticeable difference is how events are presented in the book versus the series. In the series, all events are (so far) presented in a chronological order. In the book, we jump back and forth in time and the very first scene is a part of Jaehee’s wedding. We know, therefore, that Jaehee is going to get married before we know who Jaehee truly is to Young. In contrast, this is presented to the viewers of the series as a reveal when Mi Ae tells Go Young of the marriage over the phone. 

Conversely, I think the scene where Mi Ae outs Go Young to her husband-to-be loses some of its weight compared to the book. In the series, the reveal is dropped and never fully explained as a part of a short argument in the car (that ends in Mi Ae outing Young). In the source material, on the other hand, we have been introduced to the lies that Young and Jaehee tell the world around them well in advance of that argument. We’ve been told that society wouldn’t look kindly at an unmarried man and woman living together, and that the two have therefore created alter egos: Jaehee as Young’s fake male roommate “Jaeho”, and Young as Jaehee’s female roommate “Jieun”. We get shown how the two use the lie and benefit from it, so when Jaehee chooses to reveal the truth to her boyfriend in the book, it is all the more clear that she is tearing down something that she and Young have built together. 

One last difference between the book and the series that I can’t help but mention is the description of Young’s military service. While left out in the series, it is an important part in how Young and Jaehee’s relationship is forged. I understand how portraying that on the screen would likely have been cumbersome and that it was best left out for the sake of the story and pacing, but still wish we could have had a sprinkle of it. 

To finish off, I find some of the differences between Part I of the book and the first two episodes of the series to be interesting, especially in how they can change the viewer’s impression of certain events and the relationship between /youngGo Young and Jaehee/Mi Ae, but the differences are just that: different. So far, I wouldn’t say the series is either better or worse than the book; it is simply a different way to tell the same story, and I think they do so masterfully while keeping the soul of the story intact. 

[juniperskye]

Remember That Night.

Sneak Peak: Hotch reaches out to you five months after breaking your heart. Based on the song Remember That Night by: Sara Kays

Aaron Hotchner x GN! Reader

Angst

Word count: 1095

I wrote this in an hour soo…. it’s not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, not use of y/n, some language, implied smut, talk of heartbreak, some mention of toxic-ish relationship, reader and friends are all left gender neutral, idk ummm bad writing – lol. Let me know if I missed any!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

He had broken things off just over five months ago. It had been out of the blue and you were devastated. The day after he said goodbye you had felt paralyzed, things had been so good, so how could Aaron be so okay with walking away? You had a hard time grasping onto reality after he left, so much so that all you did was lay in bed and cry. You had ignored all the incoming texts and calls from your friends for a few days, finding it impossible to leave your bed. But as time went on, you could feel things returning to normal, you started to feel joy again.

When Aaron first broke things off, you were sure you’d never heal. You were certain that he’d been the one, but after one month, you started to move on. You had started going out with your friends again. You had allowed yourself to be open to meeting someone new because things were good, and you were happy. You could return the smile of the handsome stranger at the supermarket because it no longer riddled you with guilt. Instead, that smile sparked something inside you, hope.

One month had been good for you, and after two, you felt alright, truly. Every once in a while something would come up and your thoughts would return to Aaron, but it was happening less and less. For that you were thankful. Your friends had set you up with someone and the date had gone well, he was nice enough and he made you laugh. So, when he asked you out on a second date, you didn’t hesitate to agree.

Then three months in, he was off your mind. Aaron hadn’t crossed your mind in quite a while. You felt good and things with this new guy were going pretty well, you weren’t sure if anything serious would come of it, but honestly you didn’t care. It was nice to be dating again and to have someone who was around. 

 And month four and five, you were living your life, you were better and didn't have to try not to think of Aaron. You had just moved to a new apartment and gotten a promotion at your job; the pieces were finally falling into place. You felt good about things and tonight wouldn’t be any different.

Your friends were throwing you a sort of housewarming/congratulations dinner party! You had put on your favorite outfit while they set the table beautifully and waited for the rest of your guests to arrive.

The night went on full of laughter and so much love. You were so grateful to be surrounded by so many people who cared about you and who celebrated your success with you. The group of you were a few bottles of wine in when a ping from your phone caught your attention. The notification had stolen the breath from your lungs.

You had been fine. Great even, that is, up until now…'til he reached out and said, "Remember that night?". You didn’t need any further explanation; you knew exactly what night he was referring to. It had been pretty early on in your relationship, Aaron had gotten home late from a case and you went for a drive, 2:30 in the morning he kissed you, it was pouring.  You held each other tight, before the night was over he looked over his shoulder. You had known exactly what he needed, and you hadn’t hesitated. That night you had climbed into the backseat of his SUV and let him have his way with you. It had been clear he needed to let off some steam and who were you to deny him. You’d never forget that night…but you hadn’t thought of it in a while.

Your friend had immediately seen the shift in your mood and gestured for you to go with them to the kitchen. Gently grabbing your arm to guide you there.

“Babe, are you okay?” They asked.

“Oh, I was doing fine until he said, “Remember that night?”.  “Remember that night?" are you kidding me? I haven’t seen him or heard from him in five months, and he texts me that? That’s so fucked. I was finally moved on, hadn’t even thought about him. Oh, I was doing fine he said, "Remember that night? Remember that night?".” You couldn’t help but wave your hands around as you explained the situation to your friend.

“Are you kidding me? Babe do not reply to him, he’s not worth it. Did you want me to stay with you tonight?” Your friend offered.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself in hope of finding some sort of comfort. Your friend wrapped you in a hug and made their way outside to start cleaning up and hinting to the rest of your friends it was time for them to go.

That night you hadn’t slept a wink. You tossed and turned, your thoughts racing through your mind, feeling completely unsure of how to proceed. The day after he had reached out you were broken for the second time around. You barely made your way to the couch, thankful that you had the weekend to sulk before needing to return to work on Monday. You prayed on the third day that you would be okay, that you'd forget he was ever yours.

You felt so frustrated with Aaron, how could he be so inconsiderate. To text you after all this time and ask you about a night you shared together. He broke up with you, he broke your heart. The more you sat with it, you started to think; “Oh, I don't think you realize How long I had to fight to be living my life To be better and never have to try Not to think of you until you reached out And said, "Remember that night?" We went for a drive, 2:30 in the morning I kissed you, it was pouring We held each other tight before the night was over You looked over your shoulder Oh, I was doing fine You said, "Remember that night? Remember that night?".” Aaron was probably reaching out because he was thinking about himself and how he was feeling, and not how his actions would affect you, which had been a constant issue in your relationship. As much as you wanted to reply to him, you decided against it, but that didn’t stop the memories from flooding your brain. As much as you didn’t want to, you definitely did, remember that night.

[intermundia]

do you have a favorite translation of the iliad? i want to read it but want an informed opinion on the best translation to read!!

This is actually a very timely question anon, because I got a new translation of the Iliad for Christmas (Emily Wilson's) and have been enjoying the hell out of it haha so it's on my mind.

In general, I think that the best translation depends on what experience you’re looking for! Homer in Greek is both archaic and formal, and also beautifully dynamic and rapid (like the oral delivery had amazing flow). So translations usually have to kind of pick between the two, and you can lean on whichever side feels best.

This is the Greek of the beginning if you want to read it out loud and get a sense of what two lines of the OG dactylic hexameter are like, and what they’re trying to match:

Mēnin aeide thea pēlēiadeō Akhilēos: oulomenēn, he muri’ Akhaiois alge’ ethēke

Lattimore (1951) is probably the most ~acccurate~ line-for-line translation, I would use it in place of a dictionary if I was in a hurry sometimes haha it’s that loyal to the Greek if you want to know that that's like, but it's also a bit of a clunky slog to read, lacking poetry:

Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus’ son Achilleus and its devastation, which put pains thousandfold upon the Achaians,

Wilson (2023) that I just began today so far has been fresh and engaging, it begins like this:

Goddess, sing of the cataclysmic wrath of great Achilles, son of Peleus, which caused the Greeks immeasurable pain

Fagles (1990) has good flow without sacrificing too much accuracy. It was the first translation I read, and look what happened to me lmao. It starts like this:

Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,

Fitzgerald (1974) is another popular choice, he has good poetic feel:

Anger be now your song, immortal one, Akhilleus’ anger, doomed and ruinous,

Or if you want to feel like Keats, you can go hog wild and hit up some Chapman from the 1600′s:

Achilles’ banefull wrath resound, O Goddesse, that imposd Infinite sorrowes on the Greekes, and many brave soules losd

Basically there's no real right answer, but if you came over to my house and asked to borrow a copy, I would hand you Fagles (1990) (pdf here if you want it).

[loveisonlyforthebrave8]

i'm finally watching all of kingdom: legendary war instead of just the stray kids' performances (oops), and my brain knew that their cover of "i'll be your man" apparently ranked last, but i dead ass refused to believe it because that song is without a doubt one of my favourite covers of all time. so imagine my utter shock/horror/DISGUST to learn that the rumours were in fact true.

after watching all the performances and then watching stray kids nail one of the most vocally insane songs ever... truly, and i say this with the utmost disrespect to the 'experts' who voted- but, royally fuck you.

there is no fucking way that performance deserved last place. for the han/seungmin/changbin verse (you fucking know the one) alone they deserved top 3 at bare fucking minimum.

you've got my man changbin cracking that rap line out at lightning speed whilst barely taking a single breath- a verse that was actually performed by two people in the original version, please note gentle reader. then we see seungmin's neck vein popping so vigourously on the crisp as fuck harmony that blends so spectacularly with han it gave seonghwa chills, and lastly, the bias wrecker to wreck all biases, my 4th gen ACE, han fucking jisung belting out top fucking c's (please correct me if i'm wrong it's been a while since i last had to sight read) like his life fucking depends on it and you mean to tell me you ranked my boys dead last?

so once again i say,

FUCK.

YOU.

(aaaand- you're wrong. thank you. and goodnight.)

side note, ps, whatever you wanna call it...my precious baby innie who apparently hit a bum note at the end there? WHERE? WHERE? AAAAAAND WHERE? If I didn't have to watch my precious maknae cry his little heart out over a performance he apparently 'messed up' i would never have known he did. that last note of his was gushing with emotion, and i know these boys pride themselves on *perfection* but sometimes an emotional vocal "crack" can make a performance so much more intense and convey the message of the song so beautifully. that's exactly what that note did for me. it solidified the devastation of the sacrifice. and if i ever get lucky enough to meet baby jeongin i'll tell him exactly that.

(also special mention to my man bang chan for his insane backing vocals- hello high note, i heard you, i love you. keep doing you. felix- your vocal range drives me insane for all the best reasons. and lee know, baby, that falsetto??? fuck me UP. hyunjin- i miss you more than air. don't ever leave me again.)

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

hiiiiiii, i have a request for a Curran imagine! something cute/funny like him doing one of his insta lives with his Aussie gf just hanging out at his place being cute and answering fan questions about them or the show NO RUSH OR ANYTHING IF THIS IS CRAP IGNORE ME!!

A/N: So, I’d gladly do this request for you. I love stories like this. And I am so sorry this took so long to write, but I finally finished it and I do hope you enjoy.

Also, this request isn’t crap, no request is, and I love that you sent it. Thank you! ♥️

Might be typos!

Pairing: Curran Walters x Fem!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was a particularly slow day for the two of us. Not as boring, as days prior, but was still slow enough to have us mutter the God forsaken phrase: ‘I’m bored.’

So, instead of wallowing in self-deprivation, and empty chip bags, I had a better idea.

I decided to on going live on Insta with Curran.

I made myself look rather snazzy, and jogged down the stairs, calling out to Curran.

“Curran? Curran?” I called out and you could just barely her a faint ‘yeah,’ from the other side of the house.

“Hey, do you want go live on Insta?” I ask, as I entered the room he was in, only to see him sat in front the piano. “Sure, but what for?”

“No other reason, then to cure my boredom.”

He then lets out a slight laugh, “You’re always bored, why not go for a run?”

“Tried that. Took two steps and my knees were ready to buckle right up underneath me.” I replied and leaned up against the piano. “And come on, answer fan’s questions is way better than going for a run.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s do it.” He pulls out his phone and positions it in front the piano, and starts the live.

Not long after the fans comments and questions come rolling in.

I smile and tried to read the boatload of comments as that came in, but start pilling on top of each other; one on top of the other.

“Slow down, guys. I can’t read that fast!” I exclaimed with a laugh, and Curran watched in amazement.

“Hey! Look at the one.

‘How long have you guys been together?’

“For almost a year and half now.” I replied with a smile.

“Yeah, a year and a half of my life wasted.” Curran jokingly replied, and I gasped.

“That was so mean.” I replied and he was quick to hug me and apologize.

“Ooo, how about this one?”

‘Will there be more Jason Todd in Titans?’

“Well… I can’t tell you guys but maybe there will? Maybe there won’t?” He shrugged not wanting to give much away.

“It’s a secret okay guys? You’ll just have to wait and see!”

‘Can the both of you play the piano?’

“Yes, actually we can. Watch this.” I started to play the first couple notes of a song, and Curran stood behind me before reaching over to play the next couples notes along with me.

It all came together beautifully and it was so nice, I glanced up at the phone to see a bunch of the comments guessing what the song was.

I nudged Curran’s shoulder with my own and told him look at the phone, he flashed a smile before we stopped playing.

I clapped and rested my head on his shoulder, he instinctively wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. My heart was pounding in my chest, but how could it not?

He was my everything, even with how long we’ve been together, every little thing he did would always get my heart racing.

We continued to read, answer and chat with everyone that had joined the live. It was getting a little late so we had to call it.

Curran and I both ended the live before sighing and smiling at each other. “I think we should do that more often, it’s fun chatting and connecting with fans.”

He nods in agreement, “It is, they’re very sweet. I love how supportive they are of us.”

This was my turn to nod in agreement, “They definitely are. Where do you think you’d be, if you didn’t have them?”

“I’m not sure. Acting was always something I’ve wanted to do in life. And if I didn’t get this big of a reaction from people, then I think I’d be devastated.” He admitted.

“Well, I’d still love you. Actor or not. You’re still the love of my life.” I said and he smiled kissing the top of my head.

“Thank you, (Y/N). That means a lot. What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to think about that. I like where we are, right now.” I replied, and he laughed.

“Good, because I like it too.”

[ausp-ice]

Devastation. It can be a terrible thing. It can be a beautiful thing. It can be despair. It can be love. It can be a revelation. It can be the moment you understand that everything has changed, that there is no way back in any true way. Devastation is profound, inescapable change. Will you, too, experience it one day? Perhaps you'll see it coming; perhaps you'll try to outrun it. Perhaps it will strike swiftly, so suddenly a thing that you never expected it at all. No matter. Devastation simply is. It shall come when it comes.

Devastation (they/any), Edeia of Devastation.

An Edeia I've been thinking about for a while! Their main story exists in the Calamity Continuity, a different timeline of the Ideation universe where physical reality collapsed, leaving only Abstractions for all beings to exist in.

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Name: Devastation Idea: Devastation Gender: None Pronouns: they/any Masterlist: #445

About

Devastation — Vast for short — is, perhaps surprisingly, gentle. They enjoy the little happenings of existence: flowers growing out of the cracks, rain on a sunny day. They enjoy the "present" and whatever delights it can give, but at the same time believe in the transience of it. They experience the world with the thought that anything and everything could be lost in a single moment. When they do experience loss, they do not quite mourn; they simply accept it, and continue moving onward. So it is the same with friendships and other connections: they love, and truly can love wonderfully, but do so without attachment.

They give "cold comfort" not infrequently. They might offer to one who has or will experience devastation a gentle caress, a hug, a little song, someone to talk to. They might say such things as, "Time washes all things away, good and terrible;" "All shall return to dust, in the end;" "The future is unknown, and shall become what you make of it." For those who have yet to experience devastation, their company may be both a blessing and a curse: an omen of impending, inescapable change, yet also a reassurance that they will make it to the other side. Some have attacked them in rage, some have wailed in grief, some cling to them in denial and fear of what shall come. Devastation will give their cold comfort, and devastation will come, in the end.

Each moment of devastation they are able to experience or witness is profound for them. They see them as beautifully terrible, terribly beautiful things. The emotions they feel might compare to religious ecstasy, and they cherish and commit to memory each moment they know. At the same time, they are in no hurry to rush these moments — they are content to watch them come as they will. If another Edeia or powerful being tries to interfere in these moments, however, then Devastation may try to shield the sequence of events leading up to them from other influence.

Abilities

The Impending

A form of prescience. Devastation can sense potential devastating events all across the universe, with the sense having a stronger intensity the closer it is physically and the more definite its likelihood of occurring. As Devastation focuses, they can begin to perceive the threads of possibility to see how events might unfold, leading up to, during, and after the moment of devastation. 

The Inescapable

Devastation can "plant" a dream consciousness within an individual who is likely to experience devastation in the future. This dream consciousness is a temporarily independent, parallel entity that can observe and interact with that individual, both in their dreams and as waking "hallucinations." The dream consciousness can remain with the individual throughout crossing time, dimensions, etc., and after the moment of devastation passes, the dream consciousness can disperse. Any memories experienced by the dream consciousnesses become part of Devastation's subconscious or deeper memory — if they think about it, they can access the memories, but otherwise, they are not affected from moment to moment. The closer the event of devastation, the more powerful the dream consciousness becomes. 

Depending on the individual, they may or may not be aware of having Devastation's presence in their mind. This ability can work on Edeia, though Edeia can banish the dream consciousness if they try. 

Prior to the Calamity, Devastation needed to be in proximity to an individual to use this ability. After the Calamity, their powers grew to become able to transcend the borders of Abstractions, though in that case they can only plant a dream consciousness if the devastating event is nearly certain to occur, and not too far off in the future. 

The Inexorable

Devastation can protect certain threads of possibility from interference from other Edeia and supernatural beings, in order to ensure certain events unfold the way they expect. The extent of the protection may vary and may only be partially effective against other Edeia. 

The Profound

Devastation can grant abilities, augmentations, and other magical influences to those who have experienced devastation. The more intense the emotion, the more powerful the effect. 

History

Before Actualization

Devastation's home is in the Calamity Continuity of Ideation. They were born of a human and a demon from another dimension around the 1600s, though their birth parent did not know the other was possessed. They were given the name Vena, and were raised as a human child. As magic was part of the world, when Vena started to show inhuman characteristics, their birth parent thought that they were manifestations of the potential to become an Edeia. However, Vena showed no sign of learning any particular kind of magic, and Sam — their birth parent — questioned their father, who simply suggested that it was a more subtle manifestation.

Vena grew rapidly, having the appearance and mentality of a teenager when they were around ten years old. Eventually, conflict came to their door, and their father revealed his true form to fight off the threat. Sam by then had put together some guesses, and asked what their father truly was. For a moment, he hesitated, and then he braced himself and told Vena's mother his origins: though his body was called Alba, he was truly a demon who went by Katasa.

Here, Vena witnessed a moment of devastation for the first time. Sam's face crumpled, and he demanded to know if everything was a lie. Katasa denied this, stating that he truly does care for him and their child. That Sam was the one who taught him how to love — that it had changed him. And Vena realized — that must have been a powerful moment, despite happening so long ago. This was the moment that Vena's Idea began to take form.

Their parents sorted things out, and things went well for a time. However, the world was not a gentle one, and one day some ill-willed members of their village decided to try attacking Vena for their strange appearance — which had grown ever stranger so as to be entirely and obviously inhuman. Vena struck back, and accidentally killed several of their attackers. The remaining fled, at first, and Vena rushed home with a heavy feeling in their heart, telling their parents what happened. Their parents decided that they needed to leave, and so they fled.

"We can find a Sanctuary," Katasa said. "I've heard about them. We'll be completely safe there."

Unfortunately, it was not to be. An Edeia who sought to balance the scales of justice and death found them before they could find a Sanctuary. Katasa defended them, but could not effectively defend against the Edeia's idea magic. Vena stepped forward, drawing up the power they had felt growing in them, only — they didn't actually know how to wield their power in battle, and Sam jumped in front of them to take a hit for them. Katasa fell into despair as he watched Sam perish, his wail of grief reverberating in the air. And, oh, oh, how horrible. Devastation struck Vena deeply as they suddenly understood: one of their parents was dead, and the other was likely to soon follow. What a powerful feeling, in themself and their father. The feeling seemed to grow and pour out of them; by instinct, their magic reached for Katasa and augmented his power immensely. He struck back at the Edeia, and was able to disperse them. However, his body took far too much damage, and he settled beside Sam's body to weep.

When Vena approached him, Katasa screamed at them with the force of his demonic power — blaming them for Sam's death, demanding to know why they couldn't save him, too. He wailed and cried, and Vena simply reached over to rub his back — to which Katasa only cried harder. Eventually, Katasa calmed down some, and he turned to Vena and hugged them. "It's not your fault," he said. "I didn't mean that. We should have left before. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Then, his body began to fall apart. Katasa continued to apologize, saying that he didn't know what would become of him from here — for his species of demon, to possess nothing is to have no ego. He would disappear, and did not know if he would remember them in his next host.

Vena shed a tear for him, and for Sam. "I understand," they said. "Goodbye."

Katasa's body crumbled away, leaving only Vena with Sam's body. They closed their eyes and felt that crushing weight of devastation. Everything has changed, and there is no going back. How terrible. How beautiful. They felt something shift within them, and with one breath in and one breath out, Vena Actualized into Devastation.

After Actualization

Devastation gave Sam and what remained of Katasa a burial, observing the funerary rites they knew of before letting them go, departing without a backwards glance. They began to seek out moments of devastation, using their power to sense the potential of one occurring. For centuries, they sought these moments, meeting and parting with countless others along the way.

Then, they began to sense the potential of a profoundly devastating event, potentially affecting almost all denizens of the universe. It was strange — what could possibly affect so many individuals to such an intense degree? Devastation looked deeper as time went on, and soon foresaw the end of the world. They shook with something like anticipation. What could come of the end of the world? Where would all these lives go? How would they adjust to such a profound change of reality? Devastation began to seek out those who would be most involved and most affected (in an emotional sense, mostly) by such an event, planting their dream consciousnesses all across the universe.

Devastation foretold the apocalypse in dreams and "hallucinations" — less of a warning and more of a promise. They comforted those who would accept their cold comfort; they told the harsh truth to those who would listen. Many did not believe Devastation, whether they knew Devastation was an Edeia or they thought they had started hallucinating. Still, the Calamity was inexorable; Devastation barely even touched those threads of possibility, as they were converging upon the end of the world on their own.

When the moment came, Devastation stayed to watch. They lifted their hands to the collapsing sky, witnessing everything falling apart and burning it into their memory. The end of the world. How beautiful. How devastating. They wept tears of light, though they were not of sorrow — only of the profundity of such devastation.

After the Calamity

Many people and some Edeia remember their dreams and visions of Devastation; some thought they were at fault, while others understood that it was a complicated process of various factors that led to the Calamity. Devastation did not particularly care. They simply opened up their Abstraction to any who would come, and would wander to others' Abstractions wherever they were welcome.