#this song is like mold growing on my brain

[number1jazzsimp]

sigh...

Hold my hand even if I cry. I need to feel like I'm human through you.

[evevoli]

holy shit evelyn evelyn by evelyn evelyn wasn't lying. that evelyn evelyn can philip and calebcore

[sugurusombereyes]

house song | geto suguru

“saviour pulled from an open mouth, did you want to be something more?”

summary: geto is drowning and you are his anchor.

warnings: mention of suicide once, hurt/comfort, gonna make you miserable, allusions to struggles with depression, really sad :)

a/n : thank you for 300 notes on my other geto blurb 🥹🥹🥹

wc: 821 words

five days you had been gone, five days it took geto to get out of bed.

the house was perfectly clean, a fresh aroma hitting your face as you walked into your house. the place was practically gleaming. the dishes had been done and counter wiped down, the couch and cushions put perfectly into place as well as the floor freshly hoovered and clean. just like how you left it when you left for your girls five day vacation.

but something was off

the apartment was full of silence, the absence of what makes your house a home pouring through the closed faucets and leaking from the slightly closed cushion covers that geto never bothered to close as you both would struggle to take them off as he complained.

(he kept them a quarter open so he'd see your angry face when you'd call them ugly and then proceed to complain about the whole house as he threw you on the couch himself, with that same laugh that made his heart skip a beat the first time he met you)

you were outside your room, the door slightly open as you softly smiled at geto laying on the bed. the darkness that engulfed the room poured out onto your white socks, travelling up to your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as something just didn't feel right.

which was unusual as everything felt right when it came to him.

"suguru?" you pushed open the door, he heard you come in and could practically feel your smile that plastered your face when you walked in brighten the darkness that covered him like his favourite blanket as a kid. suguru and you were complete opposites, he was a listener and you were a complete rambler. he was good with kids and you mostly just made fun of them whenever you were in the presence of them. he was the one the elders would refer to as 光 (hikari), the light that always seemed to seep its way through the darkness of environments and you were referred as the grey cloud that hung over him, dimming out his light.

(if only they knew he only did that so you could shine brighter)

“hi.”

he rolled over so you could see his face as you stepped into the room, closing it as you went to turn on the light. geto looked like he hadn’t slept for days, even though he was laying in bed and looked like he hadn’t gotten up since you had left.

“hi,” you sympathetically smile at him, your warmth unfreezing his features which he kept plain while you were gone. you crawled into the bed with him, burying yourself under the covers as he was and let him mold his body into yours.

“missed you,” he softly breathed onto the bare skin exposed on your chest, spreading goosebumps throughout your smooth skin and he rubbed lazy circles onto your arm. something was off about him, wearing the same shirt he had as the day you left and his eyes irritated as if he has been crying.

(not like the empty tissue box beside his bed didn’t immediately scream at you the minute you entered the room)

“you okay?”

you asked softly, already knowing the answer but asking to ask anyways. he always said that made him feel appreciated.

your voice dripped like honey into his veins, rushing through them and wrapping around his heart as you ran a hand through his growing hair. tugging and squeezing it as you rested your cheek upon his head patiently waiting for his answer, “it came back.” he muttered, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

it came back

your mind lingered on his words, the memory of geto drunkenly uttering how he felt miserable all the time circling your brain and stitching itself into the nooks of your brain. he had then smoothed it over the morning after, calling it a ‘drunken mistake’, how everything he said didn’t mean anything and he was so out of it he barely remembers. you had brushed it off until the morning after you felt his hot tears burn into the crook of your neck, leaving the scar of his re occurring thoughts that held captive of him when he was alone, but loosened the noose once he was in your arms.

he had then told you how he constantly felt like he was drowning, but there was nothing to actually drown in so he felt like he was slowly killing himself no matter how hard he would try to swim to the top. geto was vomiting up too many words he had vowed to tell anyone, all of it spreading down the bed onto the floor full of how he felt as rotten as his insides.

“good thing i’m here to help you swim then, yeah?”

[canarydarity]

35

(I’m actually so beyond glad this was the one you landed on, because this is my second favorite rancher song of all time behind strawberry wine. It’s so tango pov dl to me)

The leather Tango had grabbed and hastily stitched into something resembling a pair of gloves was near falling apart by the time he’d gotten even halfway through clearing the smouldering pile of wood that used to be their home. They were so incredibly caked with soot and so thoroughly speckled with splinters that Tango knew he’d throw them out the second he was done here; a day or two ago, he might not have minded, would’ve shouted to Jimmy just toss ‘em if he’d asked—it wasn’t like they were any short on leather.

But that was yesterday and this was today, where the amount of things they had to call their own had suddenly become precious few and far between. They were poorly made, they were pockmarked with holes, and the inside of each was slick with a coating of the sweat coming off of Tango’s hands, and having to throw them away was going to hurt like a bitch.

Tango grabbed at another slab of wood, dry as the Sahara amidst a record-breaking drought and charred to hell and back, and hefted it over his shoulder, tossing it in the pile his brain had labeled unsalvageable—the one growing at an alarmingly fast rate.

He looked towards where he knew Jimmy to be at the exact moment he felt his health get knocked down a tick—not even half a heart, not even a quarter, just one singular oof. Jimmy was trying to wrangle the cows that had gotten out in the chaos—a task that would’ve been less difficult if they weren’t all terrified out of their minds and reluctant to let themselves be penned once more. Most of them had scattered towards the back edge of the property. Jimmy had been coaxing one out of the tree line, walking backwards, speaking quietly; his foot had taken a dip into some uneven ground, not having been watching where he was going.

Etho had stopped by, earlier in the morning, when the unsalvageable pile looked manageable and the damage—not yet inspected—could still be spoken of with a tentatively hopeful maybe it won’t be so bad. He’d watched Tango sort through a pile of ash and come up empty but for a book charred beyond use, a handful of cobble slabs, and three pieces of dried leather.

He’d asked have you thought any more about what you’re gonna do? And Tango had heard I think you need to express yourself physically, Tango. And Tango has, like, proper ‘hold me back’ energy right now. And you’re not really going to let Scar just get away with it?

Of course he wasn’t. But he also heard Jimmy address the crowd of spectators—you just want to see destruction.

Tango had waved Etho off with a half-hearted yeah uh-huh that was more sound than word, too gelatinous to meld into any mold, sliding around in his mouth unable to keep any one form.

How many of them actually cared if the ranch was razed to the ground? How many of them had just wanted to watch something burn? How many had been hoping for something more exciting to happen next—front row seats and eye for an eye for an eye.

Tango pulled another plank from the wreck, and a puff of ash came free with it, making him cough and choke and hack, waving his poorly-gloved hand in front of his face trying to ban the cause. With each wave, he saw the ranch as it was when he’d finished it, as it was lit entirely aflame, as it was now, collapsed in on itself. He saw horns that were being kept away and club meetings with childish signs that said no ranchers allowed. He saw him and Jimmy, the two of them, further and further from a finish line everyone else kept moving out of reach.

The fire may have been put out, but something was still burning, and these people he might’ve once considered allies, friends…Tango was watching them fan the flames. No neighborhood watch to the rescue, this time, but calls of higher, higher!

His eyes watering from the choking and the smoke, Tango pulled off one of his “gloves” and scrubbed at them, which only made it worse. He was squinting and swiping at his wet cheeks when Jimmy called I got another one! Tango turned to watch him fence in another cow—so far, he’d managed to wrangle three—and threw up a hand and a smile that came out more like a grimace, hoping to convey some amount of good job! Jimmy smiled back regardless.

They were an active house fire, dry and piled high with kindling for the winter and ready to be consumed without a trace. What could Tango do but hope—no, beg—for rain?

(Shameless plug, but also, if you want more like this I have this fic here that builds on some of these ideas more in depth^^)

[readyforthegarden]

Andante, Andante

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: None, just some mutual pining, some flirting and kissing.

WC: 1457

A/N: This came to me while I was driving around the other day and the song came on. I immediately drifted off into a maladaptive daydream with Sam, so please enjoy!

You liked to keep your home peaceful, tranquil, and calm. Little noise if possible. But this afternoon, it was filled with the sounds of learning. A keyboard you bought secondhand at a garage sale propped up on a stand in front of you, you and your friend Sam sharing the small bench as best as possible. Your fingers plunked down on the plastic keys, a few sour notes and a groan from you echoing in the house.

“You’re doing good, don’t worry.” Sam gave you a supportive smile.

“I hate this.” was all you replied, removing your hands from the instrument and pouting. “Why did I even want to do this?”

You knew why. At the beginning of the year, you’d softly mentioned to Sam you wanted to learn to read music, and play an instrument, as a New Year’s resolution. You were tired of being the only person in your friend group without a lick of musical talent, and feeling left out of conversation.

Sam took off running with the idea, of course. While finishing up tour, he had sent you package after package of books on music theory, reading music for dummies, and songbooks and a few pedals for your keyboard.

“Hey, I was just as bad when I started learning.” Sam tried to soothe you, running his large, warm hand up and down your back gently.

“You had the advantage of being a kid and having a brain ripe for molding. I’m old, Sam. Ancient. My mid-twenties brain is fully formed and refuses.”

“You are never too old to learn something new.” Sam chided with a click of his tongue behind his teeth. “Why don’t we try vocabulary? You’ve always been good with words.”

“I guess.” You muttered. Sam picked up one of the books by his feet, flipping through it.

“Ah, here’s an easy one. Forte?”

“Forte means loud.” you answered. Sam grinned, nodding.

“Good, good. Can you use it in a sentence for me?” Sam asked. You sighed through your nose, trying to put together something on the fly.

“Your brother Josh enters the room in a forte manner.” you giggled, remembering the last time you saw the elder Kiszka, how he burst into the room with a bottle of wine in his hand for the dinner party.

“Valid.” Sam hummed. “Piano?”

“Soft. When we talk shit about people, our voices are very piano.” you gently tapped a key, letting the soft sound vibrate out of the speaker. “Also your hair looks very piano today.” Sam blushed, clearing his throat at your compliment.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, your hair looks good. I like it long.” you continued. You had always had a crush on Sam. He was the funny smart guy, who looked like a 70s dreamboat. You had been devastated, secretly of course, when he cut his hair a few years ago, but now that it had grown out, you were going to make sure to remind him of how good it looked any chance you got.

“I missed it being long.” Sam replied quietly, twirling his ends around his finger. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had found out through your sometimes-confidant, Jake, that you preferred his longer hair shortly after the cut, and vowed to himself grow it back. For you. He had only gotten his hair cut short to change it up, and maybe to try and get you to notice him. He thought that if he did something drastic it would be like the movies, you’d suddenly notice he was right in front of you all along. And yet, neither of you had made a single move.

“I did too.” you admitted, reaching up and running your hands through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. “I missed braiding it during movie nights.” Sam closed his eyes at the push of your fingertips through his hair, the gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp. The sound of Rosie somewhere in the house, shaking and clattering her tags broke the moment, and Sam shifted in his seat, looking back down at the book.

"Um okay, uh...how about leggiero?" Sam glanced up at you, a slight, pink blush creeping across his cheeks. You paused, your eyes scanning through an invisible book in the air in front of you as you racked your brain for the correct answer.

"Oh! Light and graceful, something I am definitely not." you chuckled under your breath. Sam felt a sudden surge through his chest. In his eyes, everything you did was graceful. You sipped your drinks with grace, walked down the street with grace, even when he was following close behind when you were tipsy and walking to the car. Hell, you even tripped, slipped and fell gracefully.

"You don't see yourself how others do." Sam's eyes widened as he realized he said it out loud, and your head whipped around to face him.

"What do you mean, Sam?" you asked softly, gazing up at him. He could pretend he didn't say it, try and move on and quiz you on more musical directions, but something in his gut told him to double down. Finally tell you how he felt about you.

"I mean, you're amazing. You keep saying you're not good at things or you're clumsy, but you don't see all the ways you dance through life. Your laugh is one of my favorite sounds ever, and when you walk into a room, the vibe changes, it becomes lighter, more vibrant. I fall in love with you over and over again every time I see you."

"You-you what?" throat feeling tight, you thought you'd misheard Sam. Surely the man who'd been the object of you affections for the past few years didn't just admit he had feelings for you.

"I-um, I..." Sam's cheeks were on fire now, he licked his lips nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction through your shock. Before he could speak again, your lips were on his. Both of you froze for a moment, but once his hands cupped your face, you felt yourself melt into him, the awkward twist of you bodies on the small bench not mattering as the two of you lost yourselves.

When the heat of the moment waned and the two of you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his.

"Well, that was very espressivo." Sam chuckled, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek as you giggled. You gave him another peck.

"It's hard not to be expressive when your crush tells you how much they like you." you replied.

"Maybe this is how we should practice more often." Sam suggested.

"Hmm? Making out?" you hummed with another giggle.

"In a way. I'll ask you a direction, and you show me with a kiss." Sam smirked. "Like this. Staccato." you bit your bottom lip as you thought, not being able to figure out the word. You frowned, shaking your head and Sam just smiled, leaning over and pressing short, quick kisses all over your face making you laugh while his facial hair tickled your soft skin.

"Ooh I like it better when you show me." you told him. "Can you jog my memory on andante?" Sam's smirk grew as he cupped your face, bringing you in for a slow, passionate kiss. He let his fingers tangle in your hair as one of your hands rested on his thigh, fingers digging into the jean-clad limb as his tongue softly lapped with yours.

"Now," he sighed when he finally pulled away. "That was a gimmie, because I happen to know one of your favorite songs is Andante, Andante by Abba." you gave him an innocent shrug, batting your eyes.

"Get used to it, Sam." you whispered, still not have having enough of his lips as you kissed him again. "I'm gonna use every excuse in the book to kiss you from now on."

"You don't ever need an excuse again." he mumbled against your lips. "I'll kiss you from sun up til sun down, and as long as the moon is in the sky."

"We should invest in some lip balm and mouthwash then, huh?" Sam laughed and agreed. Scratching his chin, he thought for a moment.

"You know, it's getting close to dinner time, what do you say we go out for a bite?" you found yourself nodding instantly, letting him help you up from the bench.

"Then after, we can come back and practice piano? You can teach me some more?" you asked as you followed Sam towards your front door and the shoe rack. He turned suddenly and wrapped his arms around you, swaying you.

"Oh sweet thing, I plan on teaching you piano all night."

Taglist:

@joshsindigostreak @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvf2 @gretavanfleetposts @sacredthefran @josiee-gvf @highdefkiszka @ascendingtostardust @joshkiszkatoothgap @andeejoness @gardensgatedaisy @kkdarling @demonrat444 @teddiie @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @gretavanbestie @lightmylove-gvf @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @gretavanslut @streamsofstardust @joshkiszkas @jakewhorecore @fictional-duchess @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @sunfl0wer-power @jankandjonch @gvfpal @allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober Recap and Masterpost 2023

Untitled Egg Poem Egg Yolk Splattered in a chipped bowl, Limitless potential Broken like the dawn.

Scared of wasted sunrise, Scared of loving white lies, Yearning, Wanting to breathe free.

Prison within a prison, Living without living, I am spinning, toiling, burning, Breaking, sifting, praying, learning, Nothing blooming Nothing growing Tears.

Crackling insanity, A song that boils within me A rhythm Setting me in stone.

And I'll claw in Like dandelions, Vines, like yeast and mold I'll make a mark one day, you'll see.

Rooted, I'll grow my thorns, It's not my fault for being born, Sorry if My laughter is too loud.

I'll make a reverie of mechanical monotony No more apologies Just me. Insects and wriggling larvae, Eggshell like lead paint chips, Star dust doesn't choose its shape.

Pigment from wilted roses, blood spilled by mistake, I refuse to ever break.

Not again.

Eggtober is over. We did it~ The poem doesn't really speak to a current state of mind. Just a pattern of maladaptive thinking I grew up having, being the weird kid. People like the rough edges a lot more when you grow up, I've found. Makes you interesting. Or maybe it's just easier to find your people when you're unapologetically strange online. And I like that Eggtober sort of embraces that. It's not a super serious Inktober challenge. Just a bunch of weird people drawing weird eggs. And I mean that in the best way. People expect there to be a "why" a lot. "Why eggs?" And sometimes there is a why. Sometimes I draw eggs to express something or to symbolize something. But sometimes there is no why. Sometimes it's just because an egg is easy or fun or comfortable. Sometimes an egg just feels right. Sometimes it's just to make something. Doesn't have to be poetic or meaningful. Sometimes you just draw an egg, and that's all it is. And I think a lot of discomfort around art is that everyone expects there to be a why, and if you don't have a why, then your art doesn't deserve to be seen. "Why do you like gorey stuff, kinky stuff, weird stuff? If you can't explain, I'm choosing to believe you're a freak and should be disallowed from creating." And I'm lucky, I think, to not be that popular. I don't get asked these sorts of things. But I see it happen to other people. And sometimes I get it. An answer to the why pacifies. I get uneasy with horror the same as everyone and I pacify it by reading the wiki and learning the secrets and understanding the why. But I think we need to get more comfy making up our own why, or get comfy with the knowledge that sometimes there isn't a why. Sometimes the little brain goblin decides there is no why. They just like the weird little eggs. And that's okay. And I think the reason we make up for other peoples' "why" should maybe stop being "because they're a weird little freak that likes degenerate things." Because yeah, maybe they are. But it's not a bad thing. And the world is a lot more interesting when we accept that we don't always know the why. And the why isn't always as simple as that.

I dunno. I'm rambling a bit. But I'm grateful to everyone that showed up and participated and shared and liked and just... enjoyed existing where the thing happening was lots of eggs and the "why" was just "why not?"

Hoping every one of you has a nice glass of your preferred warm beverage and stays nice and toasty for the rest of the year. (Shout out to the southern hemisphere folks if there are any. May you guys have an iced beverage of your choice and stay nice and cool for the rest of the year.)

Lots of thoughts about Eggtober 2023 and no good way to articulate them, but suffice it to say that having a loose amount of structure like this is very good on my garbage ADHD brain. If anything in the collage catches your fancy, here's the posts in order from the top left to the bottom right. May the rest of 2023 be sweet. I can't wait to see everyone again next year! And don't eat too much Halloween Candy at once, even if it is those yummy gummy fried egg candies.

Eggtober 2023 Posts in Order: (Unfortunately I didn't learn about the speedpaint feature until day 6 😢)

Eggtober 1st: Fried Egg on Green Eggtober 2nd: Lemon Fried Egg (Both Versions) Eggtober 3rd: Fried Egg Cake

Eggtober 4th: Poached Eggs and Asparagus Hollandaise Eggtober 5th: Sheet Pan Fried Eggs Eggtober 6th: Raw Egg (Both Versions)

Eggtober 7th: Painted Egg Eggtober 8th: Rice Crispy Eggs Eggtober 9th: Chocolate Souffle Eggtober 10th: Hot and Sour Soup

Eggtober 11th: Flan Eggtober 12th: Fried Eggs and Bacon Eggtober 13th: Ramen Eggs Eggtober 14th: Tiger Skin Egg

Eggtober 15th: Fried Egg with Berries Eggtober 16th: Cheesy Baked Cream Eggs Eggtober 17th: Mushroom Quiche Eggtober 18th: Cipriani Cake

Eggtober 19th: Pavlova with Strawberry Jam Eggtober 20th: Deviled Egg Eggtober 21st: Hard-boiled Egg and Mayo Eggtober 22nd: Scrambled Eggs with Cheese

Eggtober 23rd: Omurice Eggtober 24th: Shrimp Fried Rice Eggtober 25th: Uovo in Raviolo Eggtober 26th: Image of Fried Egg on Jack-o-lantern.

Eggtober 27th: Tea Egg Eggtober Eggtober 28th: Monster Eggs Eggtober 29th: Korean Egg Bread Eggtober 30th: Fried Egg on Magenta in the Stlye of @quezify

Eggtober 31st: Fried Egg on Burger Eggtober 31st Bonus: Egg Creature from SNOBBISM

Special thanks to my bae, @actualaster for the love and support, @hannikka for the encouraging words, @lady-quen for the ongoing collab, and @quezify for being the best host. Love you all! I am putting the King Sized Reese's and KitKat candy bars in your metaphorical Halloween bags.

[crescenthistory]

I'm sorry if you're tired of my ass in your ask box atp LMAO

Anyways I come here to humbly present: Body by Mother Mother as a Barty Coded song.

Take my eyes / Take them aside / Take my face / and desecrate / my arms legs / they get in the way / [...] / I've grown tired of this body / A cumbersome and heavy body

To me this is him whenever he argues with his father who is trying to suffocate and mold him into whatever he pleases. He can never quite escape his expectations, even in his rebellion. Oh dying his hair? his father expected that he'd stoop so low. he's getting facial piercings? his father is only scoffing because of course his disappointment if a son would do that. At some point Barty is just so tired of a body that doesn't feel like his own no matter how hard he tries, so he grows nonchalant about it because it feels like a burden to lug around when it's never been his anyway

NOPE not tired, you’re welcome in my ask box anytime hun 🫶🫶

it seems like we have the exact same view of senior 🙂↕️ and that exact trope scratches my brain SO WELL, that barty is going above and beyond to rebel and to strike senior back with even a fraction of the same impact as he has on him, but that senior is more or less unfazed every single time. no disappointment, no explosion, just more of the same old. i feel like that is part of what would push barty just permanently off the edge, even when he fights back it isn’t enough. he would just feel so TRAPPED

however of course on crescenthistory where we only have minimal angst, that’s where his s/o and found family comes in — they help him make his edgy style into being about finding HIMSELF rather than being what he thinks his father would dislike. bc at the end of the day, the best way to say fuck off is to not care

plus in my mind someone kills senior off at some point anyway who said that

but yes most of mother mother’s songs are sooooo bcj coded, i have so many of them in my various barty playlists

[my5unday]

Helloo everypet 💜 today me, @octonauter and one of our friends (who i dont think has tumblr) worked on the second chapter of that evil vinnil angst fanfic from a while ago err have fun reading 😭

(ALSO PLSS TELL ME YOU GUYS KNOW ABOUT THE JK ROWLING BLACK MOLD THEORY 😭😭)

It was the coldest day of the summer but the most humid, tere was a negative and uncomfortable energy that clung to the air of the petshopt. It was awfully quiet.. Apart from Sunils WICKED giggles. The other pets were huddled around the campfire singing the campfire song. “C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G SONG” they chanted in unison. Sunil was in a secluded corner of the day camp, scheming up an evil plan. He felt that Vinnie had disrespected him immensely by launching him into the ocean then giving him cpr in front of Youngmee, Sue, Jasper.. YOU GET IT. To get back at him, Sunil had the grandiose idea to grow black mold in the petshop and give Vinnie black mold poisoning, because he is deathly allergic to it [most people are.. I think.. But hes worse]. Sunil used his magic to create black mold spores on the corner of the day camp he stood in front of. He then used his magic even more to speed up the spread of the black mold. He let out a wicked laugh, excited to get his revenge on that green goblin.

Speaking on thr vinnie, no one had seen him in two days. He hadnt showed up to the day camp at all. All the pets just assumed that vinnie had just stayed home. He heard coughing from the other side of the room, volient and deadly, sickening and heartstopping. He turned around, pennlyling collasped on the floor, clutching her stomach. The animation meme black goo poured from her mouth. The pets payed no mind to this and continued singing the camp fire song because it was more important than penyling not succumbing [cucumbing[cucumber] to a slow and painful death [C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G SONG! 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁]. She was expenspensible in the senseless world. A baby panda like her was all too rare in the cat and dog world. Sunil rushed to Penny lings side, dousing the fire so the pets would shut the up for once. They all groaned in annoyance. Despite gaining this illness less than ten seconds ago she was dawned with the heroin chique, her facial struture bolden and cheeks caved in gibing her that sickly starving model look. “Oh my John Eclipse penny ling! What in dogs name happened to you?” Zoe asked, appalled and honestly disgusted. Pennyling tried to respond but only coughed violently in response. She became delirious and suddenly got the urge to write on-twitter…

“Fetch me my cellular, heathen!” Pennyling shouted like a queen, and Zoey quickly did as she was told, believing this request to be her dying wish. She snatched the cellular from Zoey and began writing her first tweet on her account “PLMofficial” [Penny Ling Moulding]. Her first tweet read “The mold would NEVER bless trans people #moldingout #themoldsaves #jesusmolds #moldlovesmeyesIknow” The mold had turned Penny Ling PROBLEMATIC!! Zoey starts to feel weird as the mold starts to corrupt her brain 2. The animation meme black goo pooled at the corner of her mouth as she became chronically online. Zoey snatched the phone off Pennyling and read her tweet. “Wait.. IM TRANS! IM TRANS AND SHES SAYING THIS ABOUT ME” Zoey yelled in her mind. Chronically online rage consumed her.. “I… I HAVE TO RATIO PENNY LING!”

SHe typed furiously on her own phone and  whipped up a horrible comment that we don[t get paid enough to show and PLMofficial Was so offended she spiraled into depression within 10 seconds and  typeda undercover compliment comment to self medicate her self.

¨fr¨ the comment read, and penny smiled to herself.¨ Inally, someone cares…………..”she said, but she realizwd she forgot to switch accounts! Üh oh wrong account she posted and became mad at ZOey for tricking her [she didn really but pennyling was delusional] And a fight started brewing!

***

Blythe meanwhile was in her room, eyes red from being awake for the past 3 days. She had a twisted smile on her face, one of pure insanity. Huddled underneath her blanket she clung onto her phone which was scorching hot from over using it, the extreme heat burning off her fingerprints. She was playing dressed to impressed, desprate for the role of top model, refusing to eat or sleep until she achieved her goal. Everyone was worried about her, Youngmee, Sue, Jasper, Mrs Twombly, her father, all the pets owners and cousins and all the kigs��� horses and all the king's men havent seen her since this addiction started. Mr baxter decided enough was enough and forcibly burst down her dor with a machine gun. Instantly exploding into pecices “blythey, this HAS to stop!” he cried “DAD not now! Im playing roblox.” he unplugged her phone wich had been running on -1 percent and she let out a shrill shreik. He slung her over his shoulder and marched out the door. “Your going to rehab!”

at the pet shop, all the pets starting to place bets on whod survive the fightn when all of a sudden… “GUYS! COME OVER HERE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!” Russel shouted. Everyone ran over to see Blythe being forcibly pushed into the back of a cop car!? “RELEASE ME I WANT MORE MORE” Blythe screamed as the cops finally managed to shove her in and lock the car door behind her. As they drove off, Youngmee, Sue, Jasper, Mrs Twombly, her father, all the pets owners and cousin and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men stood there in shock when a somber voice broke the silence. A group of government official looking peeple walken up to the crowd. “We’re sorry, everyone,” they said, “but vinnie’s body has been found.”

Blythey sat in a room of the rehab facility, sitting on one of those loungey chairs at therapy. Her rehab guy began asking her questions. “So, Blythe, tell me when this addiction first started.” Blythe looked at the rehab guy with an ellie and mason LOOK 💜 “Four days ago.. A uh… talking lizard introduced me to the game” Rehab guy gave Blythe a confused look. “A talking lizard showed you dress to impre-?” “YES! 😁😁😁🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😜😉😉😜😜omg😜😜😜😜😜😉🤯💅💅💅💅” she replied, instantly excited over the mention of the game by name. Rehab guy began writing notes in >*~-THE BOOK OF NOTES-~*<. “Blythe, you have a serious addiction to roblox games, in order to get you under control….” The words seemed to blur out after that in her mind. Her fingers began pointing to the assortment of clothes around the rehab room. “Blythe.. Blythe.. BLYTHE!!!” rehab guy yelled, finally catching her attention. “What are you doing??” he asked, to which Blythe replied, “Dressing💅up..” Blythe addiction had worsened to the point she thought the real world had turned into Dress to Impress, perchance a side effect of her withdrawal. She had to be strapped down to a stretcher as she began to lash out when the game was taken from her and she halucinated themse before her “NO! NO ! A FUR COMBO! I WONT LOOSE TO A FUR COMBO!” she screeched. And was locked away in a paddedroom.

[julietasgf]

I'm bored and having a brainrot so I would like to elaborate some stuff about the swap au i mentioned if anyone is interested (or just bc and my brain can't stop working):

— lucy gray and the covey in general are kind of controversial in the capitol; people love their songs, love the entertainment they give, but don't quite love them or the ways they kept from D12. at that time celebrities weren't really a thing, so coriolanus takes from observing them the idea of turning tributes into celebrities, people that could entertain and captivate but still be controlled by the capitol. that's why the covey just... fades overtime. the capitol doesn't need them when they have tributes molded exactly for them.

— coriolanus hates them, hates their songs, hates their stupid clothes, and most of all hates that these district ppl from the very district that killed his father are allowed to be in the capitol. however, his colleagues adore their songs and adore lucy gray's voice, so coriolanus plays along and pretend to like them as well, goes to shows and stuff.

— lucy gray doesn't go to the academy as the capitol granted the covey the "privilege" of living in the capitol as performers, but they aren't really treated as capitol or even humans with feelings and thoughts; they're treated as entertainment and nothing more, and this breaks her heart. she just wants to be free.

— she's quick to understand that coriolanus wears a mask most of the time. after all, she is a performer, she wears a mask too; but she senses there's something very, very rotten going on inside that boy's head, she's just not sure what.

— when the tributes are announced, coriolanus is thrilled that he got a D2 boy, he feels like he already won the game. but then he meets sejanus, who's scared and soft and not very charismatic as he's vocally against the games, and coriolanus wants SO BAD to punch him for ruining his almost perfect chances.

— but coriolanus NEEDS to win these games, so he plays mind games with sejanus to convince him to not just let himself die in that arena. he forges this sort of pseudo friendship/situationship/whatever gay thing sejanus has going on for coriolanus, and convinces sejanus to do something. to win that and go back to marcus and to his ma and and not let the capitol break her heart another time like this.

— he grows to sort of like sejanus, tho (in his obsessive, possessive way). at first was pure theatrics, trying to gain the boy's trust, but sejanus clearly trusts him; he's so gullible and willing to trust in coriolanus that he feels genuinely powerful over how he can control sejanus to do anything he wishes in that arena, including killing for survival (something the boy insisted he wouldn't do, but there they are).

— and then, when coriolanus goes to D2 as a peacemaker, and lucy gray and the covey are around there touring, there's marcus. and coriolanus is dying inside bc sejanus is apparently not so easy to manipulate as he thought.

if anyone wants to talk abt this I would be more than happy to do so :)

[edgessunflower]

Secret admirer

For @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18

Pairing: Test x Fem reader

Description: After finding a letter in your locker room you try to figure out who it is until a few weeks later

A smile plays on your face walking in your locker room after your win against Trish stopping when you see a letter on your locker room door and seeing a bouquet of flowers inside. You feel your heart burst smelling the sunflowers and reading the letter "Ever since I've met you, you have brought nothing but love and joy to my life and I can never thank you for any of that with all my heart" you're on cloud nine reading the quote on a small paper wrapped around the flowers that said "You make me feel things I didn't believe in anymore" your heart shakes erratically with the biggest smile noticing there was no initials or name after either leading you to go on a search to find your secret admirer starting off with Eddie since he flirted quite a bit but he had been gone with Perry and Dean next going to Triple H since he had broken up with Chyna not too long ago but he says that it would feel wrong to him both because he still cared for the ninth wonder of the world and that you were one of his longest friends he had now talking with Edge who immediately went wide eyed "Oh god no you're beautiful but you're like my sister it's wrong to me". The next letter was beside an ice pack and pain relievers after your match with a sticky note saying "To help your soreness" reading the letter first yet again "I fell in love with you because of the millions of things you never knew you were doing" and the quote afterwords made you putty "I find pieces of you in every song I listen to" as time slowly passed you truly didn't know who else it could be as the numbers of people it could have been went down and the letters kept coming for the next four weeks until the last one noticing someone closing there door as you walked to your hotel room noticing the letter on your door reading it in the hall smiling ear to ear "The day we met was the day I discovered what I was missing in my life" the quote made tears burn in your eyes as the words molded to your heart "You are the best surprise of my life" as you open the door you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn to see Test with his hair down and no glasses slowly closing the door as your heart swooned "I found you without looking, and love you without trying" your smile grows before the two of you were in a passionate kiss feeling your brain short circuit with him pressing soft kisses along your neck before he was holding your face in his hands with your lips only an inch away from each other "I want to take things slow, to show you that I mean everything I've said in the letters" you nod sharing a warm tender kiss holding each other waking up the next morning to find test with room service breakfast spending the day together since you both had a few days off having dates the next few days from dinner, lunch, drinks, movies, and exploring the city the two of you fall for each other even more dozing off laying on test watching tv mumbling against the crook of his neck "You showed me what love should be like, I love you Test" he smiles sweetly pressing a kiss to your forehead wrapping his arms around you after you fall asleep "I love you, you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have".

[glitchinginthegarden]

what are johnny's thoughts on tool/puscifer/a perfect circle?

Why, hello, anon!

This ask is catered to my taste, well done! I'm a big fan of Maynard's music across the board! Obviously, I'm saying "Maynard's" as a broad-stroke, I know these bands aren't just HIS but it's easier than wording that all out.

I'll try to answer this without rambling but I'm scatterbrained at the moment so it is what it is lol I should also preface with the fact that I'm out of touch on any kind of current press anythings going on with these bands, but have a little background knowledge on them from the late 20teens when Tool finally allowed streaming of their music. I also have no brain cells for musical analytics so, take that as you please lol

ANYWAY

I definitely think Johnny would enjoy all three groups but not on the same level. Given the era Johnny was born into and the fact the Cyberpunk world timeline did coincide with our own up to a point, I feel like Tool would take the top spot with APC second and then Puscifer at the tail.

A lot of the themes, psychological depth, and sociopolitical topics Tool and APC touch on feel right up Johnny's alley (maybe even a little too close for comfort for him, but he would never admit that anyway). The music itself though I think he would appreciate from an artistic standpoint too.

Johnny is a lot of things, but being a supporter of the arts is one of his best traits. Even when he's chiming in on Kerry's gigs over the Us Cracks girls, he's giving them props. So we know he has the ability to separate music from the people making it and look at the bigger picture there.

I think he would have had the same misconstrued opinion on Tool withholding digital content for so long that the majority of fans did (it wasn't MJK's fault btw). But in the same breath he would be applauding them for "sticking to their guns" on physical media.

Now, Puscifer... Puscifer is a wildly different experience than Tool and APC. I mean that positively.

Puscifer is a turning inward of sorts. Especially if you look at Condition of My Parole, which I thiiiink was the band's second? full-length album release?

The topics Puscifer touches on are... I'm not sure how to put it into words. And I'm coming from a place of bias here because Puscifer is actually important to ME for a lot of reasons. But... there's something deeply existential about Puscifer's music, in my opinion. (Of course, we have tracks that aren't always serious, but that's beside the point.) Puscifer, in the same vein as Tool, is very good at getting you to look at the uncomfortable parts of your insides.

All in all, I do think Johnny would like their music, but I think it might have to grow on him a little (mold on fruit etc etc). I think those are albums he would enjoy dissecting, but they wouldn't get more play than Tool in his library.

Anyway! That's my (more than) two cents on that! Thanks for sending this ask, it was fun to chew on!

For the hell of it, I went and picked a song from each band that I think he would appreciate:

[vesselandmoon]

XV- Jericho

-----------------------------------------------Sleep Token fanfiction exploring lore and a few things between. I will TW scenes/chapters as needed, if I miss something please DM me.

Please be aware that this story is 18+

Previous Chapter - Space Between Pt.9 - The Deal

Word count: 1061

-----------------------------------------------

Vessel sang the words he'd penned to paper while in the state of possession by Sleep, muttering them quietly, slowly, testing what sounded right.

He had allowed Sleep in so entirely the night before, despite his fears. His first possession was horrific, the second a void of nothing. The third was similar to the last. He was in an abyss of nothing but his own floating consciousness. Every once in awhile would be a faint melody, an idea of what Sleep was creating. Or more, what she was imaging. It would be up to him to take her words and craft them into music.

When he woke on the floor beside his keyboard, he realized there were several pages of scribbled notes scattered around him.

Sleep had written the song herself, gifted it to him but he had to admit that in that state of possession, he had tried to push away thoughts of what he might find upon regaining consciousness. Fears of what Sleep might do to Whisper while he wasn’t able to intervene.

But when he returned, Sleep was gone, and Whisper was felt but not seen. He knew she was lingering and yet she had left him alone.

At first, he considered whether or not it was possible for Sleep to harm Whisper in the real world but as far as he was concerned, there was no blood on the floor and Whisper was lurking about so there was nothing more to be worried about.

Vessel hummed to himself, mixing with the sounds of pen scratching on paper as he toyed with the piano keys until at last, he was prepared to play it through for the first time. Still raw, still unshaped, but slowly taking form. He could mold it as he chose, but there was a sense of reverence to the words Sleep gave him. This wasn't entirely himself; he knew that. Felt it in the very sinews that he was all too aware of in the moment. Sleep leaving his body felt strange and the aftereffects lasted longer than they had before.

It was worth Sleep’s blessing. Her gift.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the feeling, then began to play. Pause, write, try again. He eased through the lyrics, allowing them to connect with his mind and soul.

"You taste like new flesh, say my name again," escaped his lips the first time, eliciting the hint of a smile as the memory of time with Sleep trickled into his mind.

"Vessel," Whisper said from the shadows in the hallway.

Ignoring her, Vessel closed his eyes and continued, imagining the song as a link between himself and Sleep, a faint grin creeping in once more. Rising emotions in his chest sought to overwhelm him with the knowledge that Sleep showered him with love and raw passion he was not worthy of.

He couldn't recall the last time he felt so overjoyed at the same time of experiencing a pit of fear, sticky like tar, growing with the thought of Sleep realizing he was not worth the effort.

His smile faded as he unleashed emotion into the song, pouring his heart into the words as tears threatened to choke him. He couldn’t quite understand them, spinning his own interpretation into what Sleep had intended and yet he felt it was a connection between them. A way for her to let him know how she felt and how she had lived before.

"There's something in the way you lay. Enough to make the dead switch graves. You take your leave. You taste like new flesh. You taste like new flesh. You taste like new flesh, say my name again," he sang.

"Vessel," Whisper replied, louder than before though still quiet as the ticking clock. A tickling in his brain, distracting him just enough for him to stop playing. The reverberation of the piano filled the space and once it faded he stared into the void beyond the door.

"Leave me," he demanded flatly. She ruined the moment.

Whisper didn’t go. He could feel her. She stood just beyond his vision, the faintest shimmer against the pitch black. All he could clearly make out was a wide, fanged grin with glistening white teeth.

In the days since her deal with Sleep she had grown strong enough to regain more of her form. She was almost back to how she was before.

"You said I should call your name," she mused. “Though your true name is hidden from me, I know what you call yourself, so I assumed that was enough.”

"This isn't for you."

"And you believe it is for you?"

"Of course." He detested the way she questioned him. Questioned Sleep. Why must she always appear when he felt vulnerable? There was no mask, no masses for her to be lost in, no Sleep visitation that she could not attend.

"Sleep is boasting," she said, her form coming more into focus as she entered the room. “Dines on old encounters…” her voice faded away as she read the words. “Is she still eating them? Is that possible?”

Vessel shuddered when she peered at the lyrics scrawled and scratched, some scribbled and replaced.

“Eating them?” he asked.

Whisper’s fingertips lingered over the words as she read.

"Are you a demon?" he asked, unsure why the words slipped from his lips.

Whisper read the lyrics over and over, her unsettling smile fading as she did.

"I told you; I am you," she replied, then turned her face to him. "What is your name?"

"Vessel."

"That is what you are to her. That is what Sleep desires from you. What is your name?"

"Does it matter?"

"If I am to help you, I must know your name."

"I thought you wanted to consume me?" he said, unable to hide the hint of bitter disdain.

"I do. It is my desire, but I am patient. I only hope that by the time you trust me with such a task, you have not lost yourself entirely. The process would be more painful in that case, I think." A slight tilt to her head spoke of the thoughts of contemplation that he could feel buzzing in the air between them. "What is your name?"

Vessel closed the notebook, leaving her and the piano behind to disappear into the hallway. "It doesn't matter."

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @waysofink

Who You Are:

El || They/them

I'm a creative writing graduate from Poland. A slavic witch, a solarpunk & an overall creative & crafty goblin. I write fantasy, mystery and lately I've been dabbling in horror. Nowadays also an avid audio drama enthusiast!

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Fanfic, Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Poetry, Sci-Fi. New Adult and Adult

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

It's a split between fantasy and mystery. I feel like I like writing a story that is both. Can't live without dragons, but would also like to shroud the dragons in some mist, make them not so obvious in their dragon ways. Fantasy appeals to me so much because we can mold the aesthetics that acompany a setting we create and make them mean something, be a message, a metaphore, an echo of something from our world. I find that very cool. Mystery however sticks out to me, because secrets are enticing and I feel like many of us can relate to that feeling of "just wanting to KNOW". It's a good itch to adventure, following a lead of a mystery, it draws you right in and allows to explore puzzles of life.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Romance. Simply because I am greyromantic and I honestly could not write a convincing plot that only revolves around a romantic relationship. I do write romance in my stories, don't get me wrong, but they are usually a subplot amongst the rest of the story.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

My fellow queer people, my fellow anarchist and socialist people, my fellow neurodivergent people, my fellow nerds. I don't think a straight white capitalist man who hates science and D&D would like my writing very much 😂

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

Recently I've been focusing on the theme of change. I can't say I have a library of themes I reach for, but I'm pretty sure that one has always been quite universal in my stories. When it comes to tropes I like a lot of the popular ones - grumpy/sunshine in relationships, magic as extension of the self and tool for self-discovery. I write a lot of ensambles, I recently notices. So I like the trope of a community fighting, learning and growing together. Kind if should have see that coming.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

The Born Sexy Yesterday trope. Its the misogyny, your honour.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I'm currently writing an audio drama! Been working on it for maybe 2 months now? I just finished writing episode 1, I am quite proud of that :D

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

It almost seems like I was born a storyteller and I have to write, because I have too many stories in my head. It might be the adhd tho, I don't know xD.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

I've been writing since I was 12, but I was a storyteller well before that. My mom used to say I was making up characters as soon as I could talk. I know she wasn’t literal, but I'd like to think my first sentance was a story about a duck.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

Inspiration is everywhere, but my main destillery of scene & story ideas is music. I'm sure many writers can relate to envisioning scenes or scenarios in their head while listening to a particularly brain-sceatching song. My current peoject is a combination of that and my discovery of a different medium through which i can tell stories - podcast. Blame Rusty Quill shows and many others for what I'm about to put out into the world. It's all their fault.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Ask me in a year, maybe my answer will be "this audio drama I wrote and produced!". For now, I am only proud of having many, many fun & cool ideas I haven't finished yet 😅

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I haven't publish anything finished, not really. I hope to do it this time. 🤞

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

The thrill of a finished project seems appealing, but I wouldn't know. The closest I got was publishing a fanfic on ao3. Getting kudos, getting positive feedback tho… that's quite a nice feeling. Least appealing would probably be marketing. I hate it, I don't know how to promote my stuff and that is probably why a lot of my projects end up unfinished - the lack of interest doesn't help the dopamine flow. And talking to people and promoting yourself is hard.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

Coming up with ideas, worldbuilding and shaping up the characters. That's the best. Worst would be the process of actually wrangling your ideas into a cohesive plot and putting them down on a page. A nightmare, truly a nightmare.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

I work in spurts of energy, driven by dopamine, seratonin or spite. I'm a chaos incarnate and I am constantly ashamed of it, but I also love it and stand by my brain's ways. The vibes just gott be right. The music might help, or might not. Sometimes I just have to sit down and hype my story up to myself to write it - moodboards, playlists, all that jazz. And sometimes I simply sit down and hyperfixate on writing and voila - one chapter in a day.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

6 years it seems. I joined looking for likeminded folks, in search of stories and community. I did find a lot of good here, but I also learned how my brain can get really oversaturated with long posts and long conversations, so. I've been less active for the last 2 years for sure.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@drabbleitout is one of my favourite writers on here, I love their style & the way they write their androids. The wonderful @zonnemaagd (please verify that @, I am not sure if I spelled this right.) who enchants me with her words in her stories. @henrikedoeswritingsometimes had me at hello with their timeloop story. I freaking love time loop stories. More please.

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

Community? I only see positivity on here tbh. Though I have not wondered across the corners of the writeblr universe. So maybe its just that my little bubble is very cozy.

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

I tried to answer this question many times before - and I honestly don't know.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I don't contribute much these days. I wish I could do more. But life wants orherwise.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

silly posts, event posts, posts with writing references & snippets

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

I used to like sharing my writing snippets and wip intro posts, but soon there was too much pressure to publish more and more. and I just don't write things consistently enough to do that.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

@waysofink on all other socials (that mostly Twitter & tiktok these days)

[saltplane]

peppizza should be classified as a brain eating amoeba because theyre in my thoughts all the time knawing at my brain 24/7

FOR EEEL they’re on my mind all the time too like it’s become actually disruptive to my life, like when I first started to grow Peppizza mold on my brain it was the second semester of my junior year and I took an English class but literally all I could bring myself to do was stare at the computer screen whenever I needed to write an essay and daydream about Peppizza or I would just sit there thinking about scenarios for them and be like “I can’t wait to go home and draw them” so I was slacking so hard in that class because I could not think about anything other than Peppizza like I actually had to do summer school to pass the class

Like there was a period of time where the hyperfixation was so bad that I would just listen to one of the songs that reminded me of them and wrote Peppizza fanfiction for like hours and ignore most of my responsibilities, the chapters took forever to write because I’m so slow at writing but it was fun anyway, and that was the pass time for a while, just indulge in the losers taking over my brain for hours

Anyway I talked to my therapist about Peppizza and he said that it was unhealthy and it shouldn’t be cutting into my responsibilities and to meditate for 3 minutes a day this week and go up to 5 minutes next week so that I have more control over my thoughts and how often they pop into my head LMAO it’s been over a year I don’t think they’re leaving my brain anytime soon but i hope that at least helps me not be so focused on them all the time

I love those losers to death… I need to draw them more but I’ve been so busy lately💔💔 no time for yaoi 😞😞😞

[koreandragon]

the my demon stans on twt are on a different type of copium it's insane, they literally had an ending where instead of becoming human at the end like everyone expected, he just stayed as a demon and theyre celebrating this as some kind of groundbreaking, original ending like LMAO????? how is that not the worst thing ever, ml stays immortal forever but fl grows old?? that's horrible idk what these ppl are on 😭

there's no way vjdsadk they probably think this is some break the mold, diverting expectations genius ending like nah man... i didn't watch it but i bet they didn't even address him having to watch her grow old and die one day while he lives on or they did but they were like "it doesn't matter as long as we'll be together" or some shit. song kang continues to wreak havoc and give people brain damage i think he needs to be locked up

[corvigae]

👍🩵🎵

I'm gonna take this as three separate songs lol

1 - Follow My Feet by The Unlikely Candidates

Oh man I've already made a post before about how this song is such a good Dark Urge song in general, but the general gist is that it's a song about finding yourself between making choices in life that are selfish and hurtful but easy, or making choices that benefit others but are exceptionally hard, and just deciding what kind of person you want to be and which influences around you you want to follow, and damn if that doesn't describe the whole Dark Urge storyline and therefore Page's storyline by extension.

Her brain and even her own body are constantly telling her to do terrible things and to unrepentantly kill, and it would be so easy to just give in, to just accept what comes naturally to her and become a monster, but she really doesn't want to do that; she wants to be kind and "normal" and to help these new people she's met who trust her, and so she makes the conscious effort to fight against her own nature every day.

2 - Lose Your Head by Vane Lily

[[SPOILERS FOR THE BG3 DARK URGE STORYLINE]] OH BOY WE'RE DIGGING DEEP FOR THIS ONE

I live as a lamb for the lucidly damned

Still losing my grip from this body

They all point and laugh, but can you be mad?

I'm just not the way that they want me

I'm running from time, but really, I'm fine

I'm not gonna lie, I'm pissed that

God made me this way in a morbid exchange

Of theatrics and heavenly fate

So the canon story for Durge is that after The Urge awoke in them, they killed their foster family and eventually found their way back to the Bhaalist temple (as an adult, from what I've heard?), where they became the leader. My headcanon for Page is a little more involved than that. So first off, Page was always predisposed to resisting The Dark Urge, and had been feeling it start to creep in as she was growing up, starting some time around her preteen years. This resistance was obviously infuriating to Bhaal, since Durge was his personal pet project, so some time around her early teens he possessed her, forcing her to kill her whole family, similarly to how you get possessed to kill Alfira/Quill and potentially your love interest in the game. After Page comes to and realizes with horror what she's been forced to do, instead of just hearing Scaleritas' voice he actually appears before her for the first time and leads her to the Bhaalist temple, because now that she has literally no one and is at her most impressionable, it's the perfect time to indoctrinate her and shape her into what she's supposed to be - Bhaal's Chosen.

From there she's raised in an extremely restrictive environment, and as much as she wants to fight, wants to cling to her own personhood and kindness, the fear of punishment from her tutors, peers, and Bhaal himself eventually beats her down into a quiet submission. She acts how they want her to act, is who they want her to be, and is the perfect killing machine they mold her into, all the while repressing her actual self so much that she becomes almost entirely numbed to it all. But deep, deep down, even after decades upon decades of it all, there's still that scared little girl who just wants a home, who desperately wants both to love and be loved and to finally feel safe.

Which is all to say the song is about religious trauma, repression, and wanting a loving family lmao

3 - Limp by Sumo Cyco

Yeah there's really not that much to say about this one past that it's a song about feeling like you wanna kill people and that's the Dark Urge's whole Thing lol