#wallows edit

[frootielooties]

"think i wrote you your new favorite song, would you pan it or would you sing along?

↳ WALLOWS (2025) "YOUR NEW FAVORITE SONG" VIDEO

[starry-bi-sky]

no context snippet for a "SY is SJ" au i thought of at 1am last night, because i am a firm believer of the "amnesia doesnt erase your trauma it just erases the context of it" agenda.

(although in SY's case he DID kinda forget that trauma.. at first. it's coming back to him. the system gave him a grace period. there that's my excuse)

crossposted on ao3 too in case anyone wants to read it there instead

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Shen Qingqiu is painting again.

He's found himself doing that a lot lately, now that he's out of seclusion and Binghe is in the bamboo house, squirreled away into the side room where the Head Disciple should be. Painting is, of course, a logical course of action for a peak lord to do! Especially one such as himself, the Peak Lord of Qing Jing, which was basically the peak of the creative arts.

But— well, he wasn't expecting to find himself liking it so much. Or doing it so often. Painting in the style of the time period is a lot easier to learn than he expected, and it gets him B-points for in-character actions! Who knew the Original Goods was such an artist of the time? He had such an evocative way with his brush, he should know — he's found some of his works!

(They were tucked away like a dirty secret in the back of his closet, locked away in a qiankun chest that Shen Qingqiu found the key to far too easily. He’ll admit to being a little disappointed in the Original Goods’ predictability — a false bottom in the vanity, really? Anyone could find that!) 

This brought him to his next issue; he was getting headaches, and he thinks, perhaps, just a little, that the Original Goods' thoughts and feelings were bleeding into him. Just a tad! And he was certain it was the Original Goods too, because— because, well…

He keeps flinching. You know how you’re walking down a public but otherwise empty hallway, and turn the corner and nearly run right into someone, and your heart jumps three spaces to the left and back? Subconsciously you knew there was a chance you were going to see someone, but their sudden appearance still startles you? 

Yeah, that. He keeps experiencing it with Binghe. He about jumps right out of his skin whenever Binghe emerges from the side room or the kitchen, even though he knows his disciple is there! And he knows it’s not a habit from his old world, because Shen Qingqiu lived with three other siblings in the house, and always knew to expect someone to be right around the corner. 

And he knows, especially so, that it’s not a habit from his old world, because along with the mini heart attacks that come with Binghe’s presence in the bamboo house, is the discomfort. A distinct yet indistinguishably vague feeling of unease that comes with sharing a living space with someone. The kind that makes his hackles rise like a particularly disgruntled and cornered street cat. 

Again, he grew up with three siblings! That could not be coming from him. It has to be an Original Goods feeling slipping in, and it was really getting in the way of things! How was he supposed to give Binghe a sense of belonging and a better upbringing if his presence in the bamboo house made him feel horribly exposed?

Some days, he just can't escape the gnawing feeling of dread in his chest when he returns to the bamboo house at the end of the day, knowing full well that it will soon be accompanied by someone else. Even if that someone was Binghe. 

That feeling of a lack of privacy makes his skin crawl and his shoulders lock up to his ears with every step. It was inconvenient; annoying. 

It was utterly unscientific, it was his house! And it was only Binghe, who, currently, is a harmless little white sheep! There was no darkened protagonist here, come to tear his limbs off. There was nothing to be so… tense about. 

It does nothing to stop the little swooping his heart does when he opens the door to, sometimes, Binghe already there, kneeling at the table like a dutiful disciple as always.

Oh, and that's not starting on his steadily increasing dislike of physical touch. It had to be something to do with the ludicrous amount of layers he wears and the modesty standards of the time period — and, also, of course, the Original Goods' own aversion to it.

He knows he's never felt so uncomfortable in another human being's presence before! Sure, he wasn’t the most social of people in his old world, but he still remembers being able to leave the house and be among the masses with relative ease. Here, though, was an entirely different story. His personal space bubble seemingly doubled, no, tripled in size, and it was irking him quite unhandily. 

The worst offenders were the Peak Lord meetings, it had to be. Navigating through the sea of disciples, cultivators, and visitors on Qiong Ding was a nightmare enough on its own — lessened only by the fact that said mountain occupants parted like the red sea when they saw him coming — but sitting in a secluded room with eleven other people, majority of whom still disliked him despite his turnaround? Awful.  

The proximity between him and his martial siblings isn’t even that bad, either. He has plenty of elbow room and in fact, would need to make an effort to reach out and physically touch anyone on either side of him. But, still!! Too close!! 

Shen Qingqiu made the conscious decision to sit as close to the door as his own comfort would allow, but not so close that he couldn’t see it — he tried that once. He doesn’t want to speak of the incident. The stress alone will give him heart palpitations. 

(He, pointedly, doesn’t want to think about the time he arrived at a Peak Lord meeting and found the Long Ning Shou Peak Lord sitting in His Chair either. Shen Qingqiu has never been particularly territorial about ‘assigned seating’ before, up until that moment. While he’s proud to say that he didn’t do anything to Chen Qingxuan for sitting in his spot, he’s mortified by how childishly petulant he felt about it for the rest of the meeting. He’s pretty sure everyone could sense his sour mood.)  

Why, just a few days ago he nearly bit a poor disciple's head off during martial lessons when they accidentally tumbled into him after a series of spectacularly fumbling footing. The child had been so horrified and apologetic that Shen Qingqiu remembered to reel himself back in time and merely scold them, rather than tear their skin right off with a tongue lashing.

But— enough about such stressful things! Shen Qingqiu was painting, and when he was painting, Binghe knew not to bother him, and to not let anyone do so either. Lest they all be dealt with a moderately grumpy Shizun. 

(His emotions may be as volatile as a hormonal boy lately, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to keep them in check!! He still had a reputation to keep.)

His studio offered him a sense of privacy and solitary that not even his bedroom allowed him — for Binghe could knock on his bedroom door to alert him for whatever needed his attention, and while he could do the same to the studio, the fact remained; a Shizun interrupted during his precious studio time, did not, a happy Shizun make. 

There were silencing talismans painted into the walls — courtesy of the Original Goods — that Shen Qingqiu really quite appreciated. It allowed him the peace of mind to do things his face could not allow him outside of it— and that is, he got to muse aloud to himself, and hum songs from his old world that he couldn't anywhere else. Some songs that he still knew the lyrics to, he was happy to half-sing under his breath.

It had to be a form of meditation, it had to be! With how much peace and grounding it brought him, it couldn't be anything but a form of meditation.

Currently, he was just letting instincts lead his brush strokes while he hummed a melody from some myth musical he stumbled across a few weeks before he died. The songs had been so catchy that he had most of them all but memorized! He's tried repeating the instrumentals on his guqin and ruan with varying degrees of success.

Painting helped kill his migraines the most. As it stands, he’s had a killer one hammering at his skull since this morning. Bad enough to the point that he nearly snapped at poor Binghe during breakfast, and the child could all but sense the sour mood radiating off his master, and in turn had been silent and subdued until he left. 

Aish, that child… Shen Qingqiu hasn't quite quelled the guilt in him. Something about that awful subservience rankled him in a way he couldn’t explain, making him want to recoil and snap out at the same time. Something dark and deep in him had reared its head, wanting to reach over and shake Binghe for it. 

He'd been horrified by his own thoughts, and then locked himself in his studio for the rest of the day.

Even in death — or wherever the Original Goods was — he was still making things difficult! It was only natural that Binghe would go quiet and careful at the sight of Shen Qingqiu’s bad mood, he used to beat the boy at whim for imagined slights! He’ll have to reassure Binghe better that he wasn’t going to hurt him. 

Bah. He was supposed to be painting, not thinking about things that made his head pound worse or his mood dampen more! He didn't want to think about Luo Binghe right now — a surprise, even for him! — he wants to focus on the scent of ground ink and paints, and his own soft humming.

He blinks, once, twice, and focuses on the painting. It happens, like now, that he would zone out and paint entire landscapes, people, whatever, without realizing. It was always a guessing game of what he's made when he lets his mind wander. Some of things he painted were merely of Qing Jing, other times— 

— a burning red fire, encased on canvas, hangs off his eyelashes. And following it, the ensuing qi deviation he'd shoved off. —

Other times aren't worth mentioning.

He's painted a boy this time, a young one, with dark skin and even darker hair, and a smile that isn't quite right. There's a beauty mark right above the corner of his lip, artfully placed, as if it had been hand-placed by an expert craftsman. The boy's upper face remains unpainted, as if he’d been born without eyes. Yet, even without them, the boy looks completely serene and non-judgemental. Mn, no, perhaps more accurately he looks passive? Peaceful? 

Shen Qingqiu can feel his gaze, missing as it is, burning into him. He frowns immediately. His headache no less lessened, in fact— he thinks it's gotten worse. There’s a horrid familiarity about the boy in the painting, like a word poised on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite place. "Don't look at me like that." He says aloud, bah, he hadn't meant to! But it’s not like there’s anyone to hear him. "Don't you know who I am?" 

En, no, it’s placating. That’s what it is. The boy is placating him. How unscientific! Unneeded; ridiculous. Why would he paint a boy trying to placate him? He was a scum villain, and a grown man!

The painting says nothing, as it ought to, it was only wet ink and dry parchment. Shen Qingqiu's ears burn anyways, and his eyes drop down to the smile on the boy's face. 

He finds that he deeply detests that smile on his face, it disgusts him. 

It disgusts him in the way only sheer incompetence can, a burn of irritation that bubbles up every time he saw an objectively wrong take in the PIDW comment section. As if he can't believe someone would look at him, a scum villain such as himself, and still be able to smile like that.

More than that, it's not right. That smile. It's— there's something wrong with it. Which can't be right, Shen Qingqiu hardly makes a mistake when he makes these trance-made paintings. But there is, he’s looking at it right here. He hates it. That awful smile. It's so— so… insincere. If you're going to smile at him, at least mean it, eh? Doesn't he deserve that much?

Long, slender fingers dip into the small wooden paint bowl beside him and lift back up, dripping wet ink onto the side table, and then onto the floor, across the last two layers of his robes that he always strips down to in here.

He reaches for the canvas to— to what? Smear that stupid smile off that boy's face? Mould it into his own image, back into place like the way it should be, paintbrush be damned? That wretched child, smiling at him like that. That smile is too straight, too perfect. It's mocking him.

Where is the tilt? The slant in it? That boy always smiled with an off-kilter turn of his lips, crooked, that made him real the same way blood in the mouth did, and now he's not, and it's wrong. He will wipe that smile off the boy's face himself if he must, if only to get him to wear anything else—

There is a knock on the door, gentle, hesitant. Only his cultivator hearing is what allows him to pick up on it. Shen Qingqiu's head pounds terribly at the sound. It makes a screeching sound go off in the back of his skull, like an abrupt kick to the teeth. His jaw clacks together on pure adrenaline as he regains the sense to not snarl wordlessly.

Didn't he say not to interrupt—?

His ink-stained fingers snap back, a gunshot recoil that sends splatters of ink flying and splatting coldly against his face. His nails dig painfully into the soft flesh of his palm, and Shen Qingqiu gathers himself back into his lofty cultivator persona with a single breath and a ramrod straightening of his spine. His ears ring horribly. "What." He calls, perhaps a little too coldly.

"Shizun?" Binghe says softly, and the sound of that child's voice is like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Recognition hits him, and the guilt crawls back in at his earlier irritation. "Forgive this one for interrupting, but Yue-shibo is here."

Shen Qingqiu is still staring at his painting, but the boy’s smile burns behind his eyelids like a fire. It takes half a beat for him to respond; "…Alright," he says, and stands up, "prepare some tea, Binghe. And use the ginger root this master owns, he has a terrible headache."

He walks around the stool, fingers still dripping black, and plucks his robes up from the chair he draped them over. His head still hurts, and there’s a peculiar ache in his heart. He takes his time putting his layers back on, vindictively tying each button and knot leisurely. 

Surely Yue Qingyuan has the patience to wait for this one after he so rudely arrived unannounced, hm?

[quirkle2]

[zombie au] yeagh

[wildestswiftie-13]

WHERE ARE MY FELLOW EDITORSSS

[adverbialstarlight]

this came to me in a dream after every single time mut has barked in love sea so far I don't have any defense for myself

[peppermint-whiskers]

*cutely draws continuation of The Angst(tm)*

*yeets self into the void*

[mizbunny13]

“🌜Are you having a bad dream baby? 💫”

late bonkai day post 🥰 my edit (ig: @multilandrry)

[hballegro]

Back not even an hour later to say that I didn't know ao3 had an invite queue i had to wait in. Speedrunning to publish my first ever fic on the monolith of fics just to realize I shoulda tossed my name in the hat 2 weeks ago

Needless to say im

I just wanted to post bj and hawk holding hands and having a platonic-or-romantic-depending-on-how-you-wanna-read-it moment where bj breaks down a little bit but the universe has stymied me once more

[match-your-steps]

i was looking up kuroo from haikyuu because i can never be sure i have remembered any of the characters in that thing correctly but instead of typing haikyuu kuroo i just automatically typed hetalia kuroo (i often forget things about hetalia as well) and not only is it embarrassing how confused i was for a good sixty seconds until i figured out my mistake but now every time i try to look up something about hetalia for actual real, my search engine auto suggests hetalia kuroo from my search history so i think i am not allowed to let this go and forget about it apparently

[thathyperfixatedsonofagun]

A pinned post? After my many months of not making a pinned post? More likely than you think.

☆ My name is Beck, pleasure to meet you. My other webbed site aliases include Kermit and Connors.

☆ She/Her, but if it makes the joke land you can call me whatever works best. Gender is comedy, and I am a simple clown. Asexual, probably biromantic but like. idrc man.

☆ I'm undiagnosed SOMETHING because some shit is going on up there and I do NOT like it. Instant gratification monkey go crazy.

☆ My main account is the lovely shitpost-infested @fandoms-you-never-knew-existed, and my other sideblog, @anenchantedteacup, is home to my Beauty and The Beast rambling. My new sideblog is @andawfulsentimental for Wizard of Oz + theater.

☆ The two medias rotting in my brain are MSM and the previously mentioned BATB. This fluctuates regularly. Please don't expect consistency, it only leads to disappointment. Update: Wizard of Oz (not Wicked) has me in a chokehold.

☆ I'm always open to getting DMs, asks, long reblogs, etc. I love it actually. Please interact I'm so lonely.

☆ Rambling tag is #be quiet beck

☆ No DNI list because it's my job to choose who I want to interact with and not yours but the block button and I are besties fyi 🫶

That's all. Good night.

[pinkmoonmp3]

beck & kaia gerber via instagram

[araneitela]

/breathes. This icon is called killme003.png for the sake of this post because honestly, where yesterday I was rather demotivated from writing up more meta, I woke up today with the strength of all Aeons in existence (and... not-so-in-existence-anymore) for intense research. So I put my thoughts through the sternest 'let's try to shake and shoot up the perspective/logic/theory' process that I could manage, and it's still standing. If anything, I'm more certain than I was yesterday or a week ago, that MHY is doing something substantial, and vastly nuanced with this damned character. I thought I had big-brain thoughts on/for Guizhong, but I don't know if those hold a candle to the ones I have for Kafka (actually, they really do). My issue with this lady in wine though, I don't know where to start writing it all down. It's like 10 messy whiteboards that are hypotheses on her trailer, the words she uses therein, "Don't be afraid, listen to me, wasn't it you, who invited me?", "Destiny has thousands of faces, why does it choose to wear this one?", "Stealing a glance?" during someone's final moments during her spirit whisper? Like, come on, you can't tell me she doesn't play into fate somehow beyond what we've all obviously gathered. You can't tell me that there isn't a more authentic face that has been staring right at us this entire time. She borderline if not directly says it right to us, but we're almost taught to not listen anymore, to think that there's more to something, but what if writers are using that against us, what if this is an instance where we should take words at direct face value? On top of everything else, of course. Fate is "inevitable" and right in front of us always, after all.

God, imagine a being tied so intricately woven into fate (vastly differently from Elio, mind you), speaking quotes upon quotes about the inevitability of fate, and being tied to nihilism, and yet firmly holding some sort of faith into choice, and hounds us on it. I mean come on, one of the main quotes in the entire story of HSR are her words: "When you have the chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won't regret." And she directly tells us in her own SQ, and it is a confirmed truth and not a lie, that Kafka herself does not believe destiny to be predetermined. Now to what capacity? We don't know. But the contrast of this, the rich nuance in this drives me insane. The duality of this woman, the spider (which itself is already a duality of a creature) and the butterfly (not necessarily as juxtaposed as one would believe, it all depends on perspective), the curiosity/fascination opposite her boredom, the ease of her killing which is reinforced with the emotional distance of her submachine guns, and yet she speaks how we should "let morality be our (your) guide", which fits perfectly alongside the decision of having her wield a katana, a blade that was worn by those following the highest code of honor? Speaking of emotional distance, the way she speaks of humans and humanity feels so distant, along with her talk of fragility. God, I just, want to shake HVY very firmly and fiercely. The fact that her eyes are highly likely to be concealed (hello, red), the fact that her voice is altered consistently, and yet we're shown the depth and warmth of her actual voice, and the empathy it holds consistently around primarily one person (almost two).

I love writing meta, but I don't know where to begin. I don't know where to start, but I'll get there. I just wanted to show how messy my mind is, I suppose. It makes perfect sense in my head, I've seen the dots, I've connected them, I see you MiHoYo, and you're giving me everything my brain needs in terms of latching my claws into something. But my god, where do I start writing it all down.

[roychewtoy]

TOUGH GUY

[hyperloverofhyperfixations]

So I just obsessed over the Wallows Date with Tait interview for like an hour - i love being a fangirl oh my God.

Here are my thoughts:

1. I love wallows unendingly - their personalities are my favorite thing to ever exist (besides their music)

2. If I lived in LA, went to the Dylan Minnette lookalike competition to see, and then left only to find out he was in my vicinity at some point, I would have gone clinically insane.

3. I watched the whole thing (several times) and thought to myself on many occasions, "the edits of this are gonna go so hard" and I'm glad to report the edit community did not disappoint (it never does).

4. Thank you, Tait McGregor, for your service.

Special mention to the Dylan edit to the Imogen Heap song I saw on Instagram posted by @shesanactressfan

[narcsmelly]

watch on tiktok if u r so inclined

gotta love a good narrative foil, and jim/gabriel is a gr8 one for crowley 👯

[bl-bam-beyond]

MY STRAWBERRY FILM (2024, JAPAN)

Episode 7

The Penultimate Episode

The argument is...was this a BL Series. It aired on Gagaoolala which is a LGBTQIA platform.

Well in the Penultimate Episode a tiny bit of BL was squeezed to the forefront.

Has Hikaru (YABANA REI) always liked Ryo (FUKADA RYUSEI) but had neither the foresight or ability to see it? Was Hikaru attracted to Ryo's focus (in music) where Hikaru had none (no focus) until a mysterious film gave him focus in something (rather someone) And now his thoughts are back on a feeling that perhaps make him uncomfortable or at least lost. Where will the finale go?

This was and is definitely a slow burn and it's still cold.

Highlights beyond Ryo and Hikaru.

WTF was Ryo asking Chika if she wanted to date. I mean I love Ryo (but you asshole) however you did see your stupidity.

Chika. Admiration and Props to you my Queen. Know your worth. And you are more than being a gay man's second choice.

Minami. That's you in the film. A fact you denied since the beginning.

Things That Make You Go...Hmmm? 🤔🤨