#as a kid I dreamt of the arctic

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Accidentally in Love

Written By: Adam Duritz, Dan Vickrey, David Bryson, David Immergluck & Matthew Malley

Artist: Counting Crows

Released: 2004

“I was really struggling with it. I generally don’t write songs on demand, and I almost got to the point where I thought I wasn’t going to do it. They just told me that the song had to be uplifting. They actually said, ‘Don’t write a song about Shrek. Write a song that’s about you.’ The funny thing is, the song ended up reflecting a lot of what was going on in my life at the time: falling in love with someone you’re not supposed to fall in love with because it’s inconvenient. My songs for Counting Crows are mature and generally don’t get a chance to reach kids. To be part of something like that is pretty cool.” – Adam Duritz via Billboard

[Verse 1] So, she said, "What's the problem, baby?" What's the problem? I don't know Well, maybe I'm in love (Love) Think about it Every time I think about it Can't stop thinking 'bout it How much longer will it take to cure this? Just to cure it, 'cause I can't ignore it if it's love (Love) Makes me wanna turn around and face me But I don't know nothin' 'bout love, uh [Chorus] Come on, come on Turn a little faster Come on, come on The world will follow after Come on, come on Because everybody's after love [Verse 2] So I said, I'm a snowball runnin' Runnin' down into the spring that's comin' All this love meltin' under blue skies Belting out sunlight, shimmering love Well, baby, I surrender To this strawberry ice cream Never-ever-ender All this love Well, I didn't mean to do it But there's no escaping your love, oh [Bridge] These lines of lightnin' mean we're never alone Never alone No, no [Chorus] Come on, come on Move a little closer Come on, come on I wanna hear you whisper Come on, come on Settle down inside my love, ohh Come on, come on Jump a little higher Come on, come on If you feel a little lighter Come on, come on We were once upon a time in love [Post-Chorus] We're accidentally in love, accidentally in love Accidentally in love, accidentally in love Accidentally in love, accidentally in love Accidentally in love, accidentally in love Accidentally, I'm in love, I'm in love [Refrain] I'm in love, I'm in love I'm in love, I'm in love Accidentally, I'm in love, I'm in love I'm in love, I'm in love I'm in love, I'm in love Accidentally [Chorus] Come on, come on (Come on) Spin a little tighter Come on, come on (Come on) And the world's a little brighter Come on, come on (Come on) Just get yourself inside her love I'm in love

Do I Wanna Know?

Written By: Alex Turner

Artist: Arctic Monkeys

Released: 2013

Cover included: Hozier, 2014

“Do I Wanna Know” is the second single from AM, premiered live at the Ventura Theatre, CA on May 22, 2013. In it, Alex portrays himself as an obsessive lover that is paranoid about the state of his relationship.

[Verse 1] Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the tide That sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee [Pre-Chorus] (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day [Chorus] Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you [Verse 2] So have you got the guts? Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you But I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together if you wanted to [Pre-Chorus] (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day [Chorus] Crawlin' back to you (Crawlin' back to you) Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? (Had a few) 'Cause I always do ('Cause I always do) Maybe I'm too (Maybe I'm too busy) Busy bein' yours (Bein' yours) To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you [Outro] (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day (Do I wanna know?) Too busy bein' yours to fall (Sad to see you go) Ever thought of callin', darlin'? (Do I wanna know?) Do you want me crawlin' back to you?

#accidentally in love #counting crows #shrek #do i wanna know? #arctic monkeys #hozier #polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #tournament #bracket #lovesongbracket #round3

[thestarsshinebrightcomic]

5.51.288 - Love's Reassurance

the best way to fix a broken heart is to nurture it with love

let's take a look at this chapter's theme!

"Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqrUQrAcfo4

♫ Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found, That makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat, Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee... (Do I wanna know?)��♫

Atticus: Man, I just… miss ‘em. My parents. But how can I face ‘em again after all this? Gamma: Come ooooon, a stunning kid like you? They probably miss you every minute. Next time you see ‘em, they’re gonna give you a huge hug. Atticus: You really think so? Gamma: I know so. Call it intuition. Maybe I could give you one, if that’s not too weird. (Atticus looks down for a moment.) Atticus: You know what, why the heck not? I... think I could use one right now. Gamma: You’re cool as hell, Atticus. Just you wait… Soon you’ll be getting hugs from people who aren’t murderers!

#the stars shine bright comic #fancomic #pokemon fancomic #pmd #pokemon #fakemon #atticus #zoroark #the talk

[mourning-innocence]

Since you dream often about Sam so I wanna share mine from last night. Not realistic at all 😂 I was with my dad at his st. James Park gig and Sam would pause between songs to meet fans so I met him, we talked and a few minutes later we were making out 😭 but it was all so random 'cause my little nieces and nephews showed up and we had to babysit them so the gig was canceled and turned into a kids party where Sam just needed to sign their drawings. He was very sweet though!

not st james turned into a kids party 😭 tbh that’s really cute it seems like a really sweet dream! and you got to make out with him I do have very random dreams too, the other day I dreamt I was at an arctic monkeys gig in an ice skating rink? and Sam was at the bar but it wasn’t a bar, they were exclusively selling chips, and for some reason he knew who I was?

[luhcifermuses]

━━ ⟢ ( 𝕃𝔸𝕌ℝ𝔸 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕁𝕆ℕ𝔸ℍ ) a playlist

A PLAYLIST BASED ON LAURA AND JONAH'S DYNAMIC

ALMOST (SWEET MUSIC) HOZIER

The same kind of music haunts her bedroom I'm almost me again, she's almost you I wouldn't know where to start Sweet music playin' in the dark Be still, my foolish heart Don't ruin this on me

DON'T LET ME GO CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

Come to me now Don't let me go Stay by my side Don't let me go Stay with me still I've missed you so When I was young, I thought the world of you I was dumb to let you drift away And though I guess it had to come to an end No one else could have the love we shared

SAY YES TO HEAVEN LANA DEL REY

If you dance, I'll dance And if you don't, I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away I've got my eye on you I've got my eye on you Say yes to Heaven Say yes to me

DO I WANNA KNOW? ARCTIC MONKEYS

Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week

ANOTHER LOVE TOM ODELL

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care But it's so cold and I don't know where I brought you daffodils in a pretty string But they won't flower like they did last spring And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright I'm just so tired to share my nights I wanna cry and I wanna love But all my tears have been used up On another love, another love

BUDAPEST GEORGE ERZRA

My acres of a land that I've achieved It may be hard for you to, stop and believe But for you oh, you oh, I'd Leave it all Oh, for you oh, you oh, I'd leave it all Give me one good reason why I should never make a change Baby if you hold me then all of this will go away

THE BAD TOUCH BLOODHOUND GANG

Sweat, baby, sweat, baby sex is a Texas drought Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts Yes, I'm Siskel, yes, I'm Ebert And you're getting two thumbs up You've had enough of two-hand touch You want it rough, you're out of bounds

FRANCESCA HOZIER

For all that was said Of where we'd end up at the end of it When the heart would cease Ours never knew peace What good would it be on the far side of things? It was too soon When that part of you was ripped away A grip taking hold Like a cancer that grows Each piece of your body that it takes Though I know my heart would break I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah

DELICATE TAYLOR SWIFT

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make any promises Now can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here; you can meet me in the back

FUCK IT I LOVE YOU LANA DEL REY

So I moved to California but it's just a state of mind It turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine It's killing me slowly Dream a little dream of me Make me into something sweet Turn the radio on, dancing to a pop song Fuck it, I love you

PERFECT PLACES LORDE

All of the things we're taking 'Cause we are young and we're ashamed Send us to perfect places All of our heroes fading Now I can't stand to be alone Let's go to perfect places Every night, I live and die Meet somebody, take 'em home Let's kiss and then take off our clothes It's just another graceless night, 'cause

THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT FALL OUT BOYS

I'm not passive but aggressive Take note, it's not impressive Empty your sadness Like you're dumping your purse on my bedroom floor We put your curse in reverse And it's our time now if you want it to be Maul the world like a carnival bear set free And your love is anemic and I can't believe That you couldn't see it coming from me

MASTERMIND TAYLOR SWIFT

What if I told you none of it was accidental? And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me? I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork The dominoes cascaded in a line What if I told you I'm a mastermind? And now you're mine It was all by design 'Cause I'm a mastermind

BARCELONA JÃO

Barcelona Diz que me ama Barcelona Terminei minha vida vazia Solto à obra prima em Santa Maria do Mar Sem amor tão profano De quem conheceu o sublime e voltou à chatice de ser humano

TUYA ROSALIA

Lo que quiero lo tengo Sin perdón y sin permiso Bebé, tú ten cuidao No sé si tú estás listo Es que tengo el talento de hacer que lo que me imagine se dé, yeah Yo de 10 soy un 100, lo haré demasiao bien pa que no se olvide Solo esta noche soy tuya, tuya Solo esta noche eres mía, mía Tú me quieres ver desnúa, uah Yo a ti debajo'e mi ombligo, yeah

I LOVE YOU BILLIE EILISH

Maybe won't you take it back? Say you were tryna make me laugh And nothing has to change today You didn’t mean to say: I love you I love you And I don't want to, ooh Up all night On another red-eye We wish we never learned to fly Maybe we should just try To tell ourselves a good lie Didn't mean to make you cry, I

MY MY MY! TROYE SIVAN

Now, let's stop running from love Running from love Let's stop, my baby (my baby) Let's stop running from us Running from us Let's stop, my baby Oh my, my, my! I die every night with you Oh my, my, my! Living for your every move

COSMIC LOVE FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE

The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You've left me in the dark No dawn, no day I'm always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart And in the dark I can hear your heartbeat I tried to find the sound But then it stopped And I was in the darkness So darkness I became

I WANNA BE YOURS ARCTIC MONKEYS

If you like your coffee hot Let me be your coffee pot You call the shots, babe I just wanna be yours Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

PREACH SAINT MOTEL

I wanna know Do you even feed it? Do you even feel it now? And you're not alone So don't be hesitatin' for my lovin' I, I Oh, I'm down on my knees Mercy, whoa, whoa, whoa, baby Preach Mm, teach me, baby Teach us, a-preach it, baby Preach So lovin', do the soul lovin' (Preach it, baby)

[riris-dock]

1, 3, 5, and 7 for your Punishing Gray Raven s/i :3

Floyd hello!!! Thank you for the ask Im gonna kiskis you now

Give us a quick run down of your s/i!!

Ik I'm not very updated on current PGR lore but who give a dam I do what I want!! Originally born in the arctic, first lived with the Arctic Union but left because she wanted to join Babylonia. Spent her teenage years shooting down Babylonia ships until they let her up and into their Commandant training program, one year behind Chrome. They don't become friends until after Chrome is turned into a construct tho but yk </3 Graduates, becomes commandant for Gray Raven squad, meets Kamui and Chrome through their cooperation, eventually meets Camu when he joins the squad, the yoinkies r in love now

3. where does your s/i live? Do they aspire to move or are they content with where they are?

Currently lives in the Babylonia space station's commandant quarters, along with her squad. She's fighting for earth and really wants to go back to living in the arctic, alongside the people she cares for. I'd imagine she wants a quaint little hut by the ocean where they can fish :)

5. what is your s/i's profession? Commandant of Gray Raven reporting for duty! Backup sniper when needed, though when she was a kid she dreamt of being a farmer

7. if your s/i was an animal, what would they be?

I want to say literally any of my favorite animals... a kity, a peacock... Most fitting poetically would be a raven though, I think. Any bird, since she wants herself and other people to be free

#ask games #commandant riri

[azucanela]

DO I WANNA KNOW? [ARCTIC MONKEYS] PART I

pairing: zuko x fem!reader

summary: as the bodyguard of fire lord zuko, Y/N has found that the hardest part of the job is keeping the fire lord himself from befriend her despite her many attempts to make it clear she was not interested. alas, zuko is stubborn. very stubborn. 

warnings: mentions of death. mentions of violence. 

word count: 5k

note: this is part 1 because,,, i have plans for a sequel, to finish the song ya know? this was a request from a literal year ago so sorry requester ily pls accept my apology

navigation

Have you no idea that you’re in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week. How many secrets can you keep?

Getting a job in the Fire Nation had been a bad idea— actually, coming to the Fire Nation in the first place was a bad idea, but if Y/N had to guess, her worst idea had been getting a job at the Fire Nation Palace of all places. 

You did what you had to when you had debts to pay though. And it wasn’t that bad, she had shelter at the palace itself, a steep salary, free meals from famed chefs you normally only heard of in passing, life was good. All this in exchange for the simplest of things, guarding the Fire Lord.

Y/N couldn’t deny that a nation with such a rigid government and infrastructure was a dangerous one, desperately hanging onto nonexistent balance after the dethroning of the former Fire Lord Ozai. People were angry, powerful people were angry, insurrections rose and fell but most were dealt with before they got out of control. There were always the few that slipped past the cracks though, the ones that built themselves up and developed plans for assassination.

It was Y/N’s job to make sure those plans didn’t come to fruition. As someone skilled in close quarters combat and with a variety of weapons, her candidacy was never really questioned. Especially since she wasn’t even from the Fire Nation, meaning she had no real reason to want to topple their monarchy. 

Getting the job was easy. But Y/N had a feeling that keeping the job wouldn’t be as simple. She had a few principles that the Fire Lord himself didn’t seem too keen on following. One of which was to never mix work life and personal life. This happens to be especially important when the person you’re protecting won’t stop trying to befriend you. Y/N didn’t need to be a fortune teller to know that any friendship with Fire Lord Zuko would end horribly. 

The best case scenario was someone to talk to during the long hours she was on duty, the worst case scenario was his death in an attempt to preserve his new friend’s life. That was not the reason Y/N was here, not at all. She was here for money, as much of it as she could get. 

“What’s your favorite color?”

But this idiot wouldn’t stop trying.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Y/N can’t stop herself from looking to him incredulously, this young ruler who seemed to be without a shred of professionalism. She was supposed to be following him from a distance, like a shadow in the dark, close behind in the garden he’d chosen to walk through this evening. It was pretty, though Y/N had never appreciated it properly given her duty. After all, he dies and her paycheck goes with him. 

“Your favorite color?” He repeats, almost awkwardly, like a little kid on a playground trying to make new friends. Nothing like the famed Fire Lord who toppled an empire alongside the Avatar, nothing like how one would imagine a powerful ruler.

Y/N wonders how this man runs a whole nation when he’s barely an adult—they were the same age and yet so much responsibility rested on his shoulders— nearly three years after his father was thrown in jail. The young Avatar that once stood alongside him and advised him has been forced to travel the world now, and in his place was an older man who seemed to enjoy tea a bit too much. 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, Your Highness.” She returns her gaze to their surroundings, though it was unlikely someone would make it this far into the palace without any alerts sounding off, it’s an attempt to distract herself from the fact that she had no idea if she’d used the right term for the young man. Was it supposed to be ‘your royal fire-ness’ or something of the sort instead? She certainly didn’t know.

He brings a hand to his head, sighing as he replies, “I don’t like the idea of dying for a stranger, do you?” The Fire Lord looks back to her, pausing his stroll along the water, a look in his eyes that Y/N can’t place. “I don’t like the idea of my life in a stranger’s hands.”

“I don’t get paid to be your friend.” Y/N meets his eyes, “I do get paid to die for a stranger if necessary.” 

The Fire Lord’s brows furrow as he huffs and replies, “then I’m adding it to the job description.”

Pausing her own movements, Y/N raises a brow at her employer, “what? Adding friendship to the job description?” She scoffs, “you can’t just do that.”

With a shrug, he replies with a simple, “I’m the Fire Lord, yes I can.”

If only someone had warned her that this moment would result in the chain of events that would be the downfall of her facade. A single conversation and she was in too deep, the damage irreversible as the secrets slowly began to pile up, one after another. And worse than that, it’s when the dreams started. 

Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow  and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep.

The music is loud and Y/N hates every minute of it. Regardless, she remains close behind her employer, mirroring his every step. Though it wasn’t the most convenient, appearances had to be maintained and the rest of his staff insisted she dress decently during the event. From what Y/N understood, it was a diplomatic meeting of sorts. One that left her feeling drained. 

The number of important international figures in the room meant there were dozens of people just like her, bodyguards. Now, rather than spending her time enjoying the delicacies offered by the chefs of tonight’s party, she had to determine if the people lurking in the shadows were there to protect their own employer or to kill hers.

Y/N can’t help but remind herself that she’s getting paid quite well to do so.

Despite this, the only eyes she feels on her figure are those of the Fire Lord himself. Zuko had found that Y/N was practically a mystery, someone who met every necessary qualification on the list when it came to being a bodyguard, and yet he hadn’t a clue as to why. He didn’t know where she came from, how she arrived at the Fire Nation, why she decided to work for him— though if he had to guess, it was the pay— or anything of the sort. 

If he’s honest, that made him wonder if Y/N was more dangerous than anyone who could ever be sent to take his life. After the Kyoshi Warriors had left the Fire Nation, his guard staff had dwindled down to just Y/N, which made him wonder what exactly she was capable of to be the sole person entrusted with a monarch’s life. Though he had his own shadows as well, members of his guard that remained hidden in the background, she was the only truly visible one.

Though the thing that most attracted Zuko to his guard was the simple fact that her determination to remain distanced from him and everyone else at the palace was a reminder of himself. Zuko had never made many friends as a child, and after the Agni Kai with his father he never really bothered to try, instead opting to push any and everyone away. 

Maybe he was projecting a bit, maybe it’s because he’s stubborn, but Zuko had decided he would befriend Y/N L/N. 

So, he finds himself making his way towards the terrace of the building, wind howling as he pushes the doors open. It's refreshing, Zuko had never really enjoyed meeting with diplomat after diplomat, debating how to handle the various issues the world had been plagued with. Most of them hadn’t seen the reality of their nations, even now as King Bumi’s health dwindled, it became alarmingly clear that none of his potential successors would ever be able to rise to the challenge that came with ruling his homeland. These people lived sheltered lives, just as Zuko once had. 

There wasn’t much he could do for the Earth Kingdom right now though, but he could do something small for someone else, “you looked like you needed some fresh air.” 

Y/N looks to him dully, “my needs are none of your concern, Fire Lord.”

He narrows his eyes at her, “aren’t they? The whole point of my job is that everyone’s needs are my concern.” Zuko brings a hand to his temple, “I’m trying to be better, but you really aren’t making it easy.” 

She returns her gaze to straight ahead of them, eyes scanning the area, “that doesn’t mean you should try to befriend me. Our relationship is purely professional.”

A dry laugh leaves Zuko, “for someone who wants to be professional, you don’t talk to me like I’m your boss, do you?”

And that was more refreshing than any trip outside the suffocating palace he now lived in. 

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

Spilling drinks on my settee. Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?

“Why don’t you join us for tea, Ms. L/N?”

Iroh stands before her, seated behind him at the table is the Fire Lord that Y/N served, and he looked more at home than ever before. Of course, she doesn’t notice the obnoxious wink he sends his nephew as he boils the water, earning himself an eye roll from the young Fire Lord. 

“I’m alright, thank you.” 

It’s a short, curt, polite reply, but Iroh doesn’t seem to take no for an answer as he gently urges Y/N towards the seat beside his nephew, “tea is good for the soul.”

Raising a brow, Y/N can’t help but make eye contact with Zuko, who simply sighs and gestures to the seat beside himself lamely. All the while he glares daggers at his Uncle. “You can just pretend I’m not here.” She says, another attempt to escape whatever was about to happen. “I’m just here to make sure your nephew doesn’t get brutally murdered or… something.”

“And for that I am grateful.” Comes Iroh’s reply, this time he gestures to the seat, “so allow me to serve you some tea.”

This time, Zuko brings a hand through his hair, and he looks different. “He’s not gonna let it go, you should just sit.” Subdued, calm, like he’s truly let his guard down. Even though he’s surrounded by a 24/7 group of guards, some in the light of day while others remain in the shadows, he’s never truly been relaxed. As if he’s ready for one of his own to betray him. It’s a reasonable thing to fear in a position like his. 

And though annoyance is evident in his words, it’s laced with a fondness Y/N has never seen from him before. It feels intimate, a familial moment she had no right to be a part of, and yet she was. 

Y/N’s lips press together as she nods, body tense as she takes a seat beside Zuko who mumbles out an apology for his Uncle’s antics— though the man in question seems to pay him no mind as he sets the kettle down before them. 

“So, Y/N…” She only watches as he pours the tea into a small cup, sliding it towards Zuko who wordlessly begins to take a sip, “do you have a lover?” 

Zuko chokes on his tea, the cup in question spilling onto his lap as he coughs rather violently, leading Y/N to slam a hand onto his back rather aggressively. “Zuko?!”

Iroh begins to laugh, throwing his head back at his nephew’s reaction only to raise a brow, “does that question interest you nephew?”

After finishing his coughing fit, Zuko manages to reply, “absolutely not!”

Yes, Y/N is painfully aware that she’s an intruder, infringing on this moment. She’s sure that Zuko is probably annoyed by the large presence of guards in his life. But it’s a nice moment, something she hasn’t had the pleasure of witnessing for a while, so Y/N can’t help the hand she brings up to her face in an attempt to shield her mouth from the rest of the world, to shield the world from the small laugh that escapes her.

Because this is the first time Y/N L/N has ever smiled, ever laughed, in front of Fire Lord Zuko, and when he glances at her from the corner of his eye, he decides he wants to see that smile again. 

Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you’d stay.

Zuko has lost a lot in his life. Though he doesn’t think he can say he lost his father— he never really had the man in his life, seeing as the former Fire Lord had regarded his son as a disappointment from the moment he showed signs of firebending that was less than perfect— Zuko is aware he has lost family. He was close with his mother, and she ended up disappearing entirely. And while he was never that close with Azula, a part of him mourns the relationship they could’ve had if things had gone differently. 

Maybe this is why he was so hesitant to bid the rest of his new friends goodbye when the time came, when the time came for Aang to travel the world for the sake of diplomacy, when Sokka had to rebuild the Southern Water Tribe, when Toph went to start a school for metal benders. And of course, when he himself had to begin running a nation. 

Zuko rarely sees his friends, they’re all busy. They try to meet up, but life gets the better of him. They’re no longer a constant in his life. 

In fact, there are few things that are constant in his life. But Zuko can think of one person who was practically stuck in his life, and had been for the past year.

Y/N L/N. 

He’d grown accustomed to her presence, she was always at his side after all. Maybe they weren’t as close as he had wanted but ever so slowly, she seemed to be growing accustomed to him too. Her smiles becoming more frequent, conversation coming between them more easily, the air no longer filled with dreadful tension. 

Until recently, that is. She seemed to have pulled away once more, something on her mind, something he couldn’t decipher. The tension in the air was tenfold that which it had originally been, uncomfortable, filled with questions neither of them would ask. Not until Y/N is standing before him with a sheet of paper in hand, extended towards him. 

“You’re resigning?” 

Her hands are clasped behind her back, “once I find a suitable replacement, I’ll be on my way.”

Zuko rises from his desk far too quickly, “you—” Zuko pauses, mouth opening, closing. What was he supposed to say? She can’t leave? That wasn’t his choice, he knew that. Was he supposed to tell her that there was still so much he didn’t know, so much he wanted to learn about her? 

What was he supposed to say?

Y/N clears her throat, “I’ve already gathered some candidates, I’ll go through some interviews and trials to determine their competence and then train them myself. I estimate this process will take around two months at most.”

“Where will you go?”

That was probably the last thing he should’ve asked. In fact, there are a million other things he should have asked about, as a Fire Lord, he should ask about the criteria of the choosing replacements, he should ask to meet the candidates himself, he should ask about background checks.

But as a person, as a friend, as something in between, he wants to know why.

“Away.” Is all she responds with. 

Baby we both know that nights were made mainly for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

The night is not young. The night is actually, very, very, very old. The staff of the palace have already begun to clean up after the diplomats of nations far and wide, the once bustling atmosphere replaced by the almost awkward silence of the aftermath. Zuko had entertained people about ten times his age, people who wanted to see him fail, for hours on end, and he hadn’t enjoyed it at all. 

But he supposed he was grateful. Seeing as Aang was… the only diplomat available for the Air Nation, he had attended the gala. Similarly, Sokka had risen through the ranks of the Southern Water Tribe and had come to visit accompanied by Katara. While Toph seemed to have started some sort of metal cult of sorts that she brought to the event. 

It was nice. 

Even as he speaks to them now, Y/N is at his side, kind of. She stands a few feet away, leaning against a wall, picking at the leftover food while her eyes scan the perimeter. This would be one of the last times she’d be anywhere near him before her rather premature retirement. 

He didn’t want her to leave. And the fact that the day she would leave was coming soon left him distracted to say the least, to the point where Sokka found himself raising a brow, following Zuko’s eyes to the woman stationed behind him. 

Sokka seems to know what it means before Zuko does, grin finding its way onto his face almost instantly, “who’s that?” He wiggles his eyebrows almost obnoxiously, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes, curiosity and care. 

“She’s my bodyguard.” His brows furrow, “don’t get any ideas.”

Sokka laughs at this, shaking his head as he places a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, “I would never go after your girl, Zuko! And besides, I’m happy with Suki.”

Hold on, what. 

Wait, what? 

Sokka is perceptive, he always has been, his emotional intelligence is a lot better than anyone else would give him credit for. So he notices the way Zuko’s cheeks flush and almost laughs once more at the way he struggles to find the words to reply. “I don’t—” Zuko’s brows furrow once more, and he sounds almost offended as he says, “I don’t like her.” 

His voice is low, a whisper, like a child confessing a secret to their friend on the playground. Actually, that’s exactly what it was, and Sokka can’t help the way his smile widens at the fact, “I can’t believe I’m witnessing you having a crush in action.”

Zuko is tempted to throttle his friend for the comment, “I do not have a crush.” He hisses, glaring at Sokka and looking behind him as if to check if Y/N had noticed.

Evidently, she had. Brow raised as they make eye contact, and Zuko can feel his face warming as he inhales deeply, attempting to collect himself. He whips his head back around to meet Sokka’s eyes, to scold his friend, only for Sokka to raise a hand into the air, “hey! Bodyguard lady, I think my friend here has had a little too much to drink,” there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, “think you could take him back to his room?”

Zuko has half the mind to physically attack Sokka right then and there when Y/N starts towards them, brows strewn together as her eyes scan his form, “he does look flushed.” Her eyes fall onto Sokka, “but it’s his choice when he returns to his room.”

Sokka nods, rather dramatically, ��of course, of course. Well, Fire Lord Zuko, I will be returning to my lodgings for the night,” he winks at his friend, turning on his heel as he stalks off towards the exit of the large ballroom. Zuko is left to wonder if he even went the right way, but the burning in his cheeks is too much of a distraction for him to care.

“I have a feeling that he’s the one who had too much to drink.” Y/N grumbled out, hand coming to rub her temples, “shall we head back then?”

Nodding slowly, Zuko turns back to her, “yeah. That would probably be for the best.” 

He doesn’t really know what to say, Zuko is simply grateful that Y/N doesn’t ask what Sokka was talking about, the reason behind his behavior, or anything of the sort. Though he isn’t at all grateful for how awkward the walk back is, she’s trailing behind him and a part of Zuko wants to invite her to stand by his side instead.

A part of him wants to ask her all the things he never had before. After all, what was there to lose? She was leaving, and Zuko had a feeling that she would never come back. 

He found it funny, even after a year of knowing one another, how much did he really know? Not much if he was honest, he knew her favorite color, the look on her face when she was annoyed, the way she fidgeted with her clothes when she lied. 

She had lied a lot recently. 

So, he wonders if she will tell the truth just this once as he asks, “so why is it that you’re leaving?” 

He turns to face her, and Y/N stops dead in her tracks, and the look on her face isn’t the annoyed one he’s become so familiar with. It’s something else, something pensive. 

Y/N just shrugs. “A conflict of interest is all.”

The incredulous look on his face must speak volumes because Y/N ends up laughing softly and Zuko wishes he could burn the sound in his memory. Instead, the words she says next haunt his mind.

“I think… I think I could fall in love with you, Zuko.”

It’s almost like the breath is knocked out of him as an incomprehensible sound escapes him, mouth gaped open in shock at how nonchalant she is at such a confession. Y/N seems to be amused by this as she shakes her head gently. Evidently, he needs a moment to recover. Regardless, she doesn’t expect his next words to be seared in her mind of course, his voice hoarse as he says—

“The feeling is mutual.” 

Crawlin’ back to you, ever thought of calling when you had a few? Cause I always do

The first time Zuko receives a letter from Y/N, he’s visiting his Uncle Iroh while preparing a list of guests for his next gala. 

Iroh doesn’t recognize the handwriting of the letter, but the name written on the back belongs to his nephew, and it feels like an invasion of something all too intimate for him to have received such a thing. It’s the name in the top corner of the letter that really catches his eyes, the girl who used to come by with Zuko all the time, the one who left a little too soon. 

His eyes fall on his nephew, seated at his kitchen table, brows strewn together as he glares at a list of names, quill in hand as he scratches some of them out. Zuko was droning on about how annoying some of these diplomats could be, and Iroh can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes him.

Wordlessly, he places the letter in front of Zuko, confusion in the young man’s eyes as his voice fades away and his eyes widen. Iroh expects him to tear the letter open, but instead his nephew peels open the envelope with a gentleness he’s never seen before, as though it’s one of the rarest treasures in the world and he has to preserve it. 

To him, maybe it is. 

The first time Y/N writes a letter to Zuko, she wonders if it’s selfish of her to do so. She decides to address it to Iroh, his Uncle, the one she had accompanied Zuko to tea with so many times before. Perhaps he would decide if she was worthy enough to speak to the boy again, it’s not like her letter would ever see the light of day if she sent it to the palace.

She writes it on a whim, pure impulsivity. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t expect a response, maybe it’s because she doesn’t expect to live long enough to see one, Y/N doesn’t have much to lose as she sends it off. But, it’s been a month since the last time they’ve spoken, and she almost regrets it when she finally receives a letter back accompanied by an invitation to his next gala in six months time. 

Almost. 

Because Y/N L/N is selfish, after all, that’s the reason she took the job as his bodyguard in the first place. 

Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I’ve thought it through, crawling back to you so have you got the guts?

The Fire Lord is distracted. Anyone can see it really. 

In the weeks leading up to the gala, Zuko seems distant. Which is a bit of a problem seeing as he’s supposed to be greeting the visitors to his nation, welcoming them into the country where they’ll stay for weeks to come so that he can build better diplomatic relations. And of course, actual relations, romantic ones. It’s been the talk of the year, who could claim the young Fire Lord’s heart and earn glory for their nation and family. 

The answer thus far has been no one. Because even as people throw themselves at Zuko, he either doesn’t notice their flirtations, or disregards them entirely. While Zuko is aware that he should be going along with these actions, courting a potential suitor, marrying for the sake of politics, a part of him wants to be selfish. He’s given a lot to the nation he calls home, and this part of himself is something he simply doesn’t want to relinquish. 

Not yet at least. 

Zuko had tried at first, he really had, but the conversations with these people in search of a husband were beyond awkward, they were rather shameless in their pursuit for his crown rather than his heart. And when they didn’t mind striking up an actual conversation, it almost always ended horribly. 

And of course, his correspondence with Y/N didn’t really help the situation, at all. In fact, he had found the letters they exchanged as a sort of solace from the chaos that his everyday life had become. It was refreshing, speaking to a friend, to someone who was shameless in a different sense. Because Y/N had no shame in calling him out on his white lies, in correcting his faults, in doing things most people would fear to do in the presence of a world leader. 

They treated him as an equal, status be damned. And he did the same in turn. Y/N couldn’t help but find it admirable, how truly human the Fire Lord was. Though Iroh had detailed how much of a brat he’d been before joining up with the Avatar, Y/N couldn’t picture him acting in such a way after having gotten to know him. 

She probably should’ve been a bit more in awe at the fact that she was exchanging letters with the Fire Lord, but at the end of the day it was just.. Zuko. 

Zuko, who failed to detail in his letters until now, that he was technically in search of a lover. As Y/N reads his most recent letter, she can practically feel his hesitancy to disclose the information to her, and with the way he explains it, Y/N wonders if he feared he would offend her by doing such a thing. 

No, Y/N wasn’t offended because he was a political leader who would probably have to marry for political reasons. Not at all. Why would she be hurt? There was no reason for such a feeling to consume her, for a tight feeling in her chest to form as she rereads the letter for the fifth time, for a frown to find its way onto her face. 

It didn’t matter, why should it matter? They were barely friends after all. He had been her employer just a few months ago, it wasn’t even her business so why was he acting so apologetic? Maybe she could’ve fallen in love with him all those months ago but that time had passed, they had never actually been together in a romantic sense and they never would, that was that. 

Or at least, that’s what Y/N told herself. And it would’ve been a lot easier to pretend it was true if she wasn’t exchanging letters with the man in question. 

She finds herself scribbling down onto the page—

Forget what I said that night, Zuko.

Things would be easier for the both of them this way. 

Especially since she was probably going to die soon. 

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #atla x reader #lok x reader #atla x you #lok x you

[iwillbeafuckinlawyer]

09/02/2022

Hello party people

I am in so much stress right now and its not uni stress its life stress. Uni stress would be soo nice. Studying is hard because my mind is not free but I still do some stuff for a few hours on the most days. I dont want to stress myself, stressing yourself and starting to panic because of academic success is not the way to achieve goals. (And thats the only thought thqt stops me from freaking out lol)

Day 9: Have you been anywhere recently for the first time? How was the experience?

I was im Vienna and in Italy last year. It was nice because I did not go on vacation since I was a kid. I think I never learned what having a break means. I studied while chilling in the sun.

Day 8: Is there someone you recently got acquainted with? How did you meet them?

No since Coroni I

Day 7: What was your favourite band 5 years ago?

Since I was a kid its arctic monkeys

Day 5: What's the most recent thing you've dreamt?

I dont rember my dreams :/

Day 4: What would you describe your study method as?

When studying a subject fir the first time I do summarys which are suoer time consuming and unnecessary but it motivates me to study. I repeat every topic I need to study 3 days after, then 1 week after, 3 weeks after a month after and so on. This is called periodic studying. When repeating something for the first time I always write down quesstions (like a quiz) and I quiz ny self everytime I repeat a topic. This is called active learning.

#lawblr #law #studyblr #lawyer #study #studying #law school #studyspiration #student #studystudystudy #february productivity challenge

[queerdraws]

Cleaning Out the Rooms - a Harry Du Bois playlist Alcoholism, getting better?, memory loss, being a superstar, The Final Dream, forming political opinions, bad breakups, past transgressions, being a strange and inconsistent being, and persisting despite it all 26 songs (r-slur warning for Turnin’ on the Screw - QotSA)

including: David Bazan, They Might be Giants, The Mountain Goats, British Sea Power (of course), Queens of the Stone Age, and more.  Full track listing and lyric excerpts under the cut

---- Turnin' on the Screw - Queens of the Stone Age (This is the opening track on Era Vulgaris, seemed like an appropriate opening song / introduction to Harry's general essence) ----

... They say those who can't just instruct others And act like victims or jilted lovers You can't lose it if you never had it Disappear, man, do some magic

Want a reason? How's about because You ain't a has been if you never was

I sound like this

Scared to say what is your passion So slag it all, bitter's in fashion Fear of failure's all you've started The jury is in, verdict: r******d

I'm so tired, and I'm wired too I'm a mess; I guess I'm turning on the screw

---- Bless this Mess - David Bazan (Harry being a drunk and a general mess, things going in cycles) ----

God bless the man who stumbles God bless the man who falls God bless the man who yields to temptation God bless the woman who suffers God bless the woman who weeps God bless the children trying her patience Trouble getting over it Is what you're in for So pour yourself another 'Cause it'll take a steady pair of hands Holy or unholy ghost Well now I can't tell, but either way you cut it You should get some distance if you plan to take a stand God bless the house divided God bless the weeds in the wheat God bless the lamp hid under a bushel I discovered hell to be the poison in the well So I tried to warn the others of the curse But then my body turned on me I dreamt that for eternity My family would burn Then I awoke with a wicked thirst

---- Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair - Arctic Monkeys (general Harry vibe.  off-kilter) ----

Break a mirror, roll the dice

...

Find a well-known hard man and start a fight Wear your shell suit on bonfire night Fill in a circular hole with a peg that's square

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

...

Bite the lightning and tell me how it tastes Kung fu fighting on your roller skates Do the Macarena in the devil's lair

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

---- I've Been Seeing Things - They Might be Giants (feels very Harry's detecting style, surreal happenstance) ----

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things Don't have answers but I've got lots of questions

Carpool's up, someone gets out Hand someone else a violin case I'm trying not to let them see me looking at them But I'm pretty sure there was a dollar sign

Keep your eyes peeled and you'll see stuff Which at first seems like unimportant irrelevant things

Can't just ask some perfect stranger "What are you hiding in your violin case?" Shadow them at a distance instead Try to get inside their head

Where'd they go now (Where'd they go now) I got distracted (I got distracted) Begging me to stay (Begging me to stay) Wearing a disguise (Wearing a disguise) That lady (That lady) Must have ditched the kid (Must have ditched the kid) Hidge the down (Hidge the down) [???] What's she up to now? (What's she up to now?) Trembling cold by the airport road Watching them stack containers in rows Seagulls, helicopter, windblown trash Something doesn't add up

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things No one asks but I'm packing all kinds of attention

Later I'm watching a news report Camera pans across a crime scene Unremarked upon detail Empty violin case Okay maybe not the same case Different material, different color Still you have to wonder Am I the only one who knows

I've been seeing things

---- Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters (breakup Harry.  drug-addled disco Harry) ----

I left my heart in San Fransisco It's at some motherfucking disco The people there where dancin' on it And that's including Ms. Matronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

Of your bad fun Money's all gone but you need some Lover's on the phone but they got none Daddy ain't home from the dog run And you're riding through the city with a shotgun

I left my bag in Pasadena Where all them girls was doin' Tina Them bitches sure were crunked up on it I said I'd rather smoke some chronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

---- Down to Your Soul - Right Away, Great Captain! (about the Final Dream and pre-game Harry) ----

And I see things I actually don't see. I knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach. I looked into your eyes and I began to lose my teeth, And I felt you were dreaming the same thing.

And I know you don't know what I'm capable of But if you give me just one more minute I'm sure That you would be shaking right down to your soul And I'd hope that the fear of the lord brings me home. I'm a man in a body of water so tall Could swallow you whole and forget where he's going But I carved a map in the back of my arm Don't worry I'm coming home I said don't worry cause I'm coming home

---- No Surprises - Radiohead (suicidal harry, pre-game.  Maybe immediately before the game.  A little Big Communism Builder) ----

A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy Bring down the government They don't, they don't speak for us I'll take a quiet life A handshake of carbon monoxide

And no alarms and no surprises

…

This is my final fit My final bellyache

…

No alarms and no surprises, please (get me out of here)

---- Cleaning Out the Rooms - British Sea Power (The instrumental part seems to have been used / referenced for a background music track.  And also the name of that one thought project. as expected, it fits beautifully.  Wake up in a new life, down by the seaside.  Cleaning out the rooms.  She’ll be coming soon.) ----

Where life is good in a way Swept away upon our hearts, in cold coal ceremonial On a rainy day, hang it up Get the vacuum and suck it in Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up Dark cloud, drifting out of view I'll never know, she'll be coming soon, that is all I'll wake up in a new life, ship shape and shoe shine Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up She'll be coming soon Drifting into view, way in the west, white cloud If everybody knew, I never knew, she'll be coming soon I'll wake up in a new life, down by the seaside In a new life, down by the seaside Cleaning out the room, I'll clean it up Dark clouds, she'll be coming soon Down the chimney, out the window, that is all

---- In the Morning of the Magicians - The Flaming Lips (waking up with no memory, but bad vibes) ----

In the morning I awake

And I couldn't remember What is love and what is hate

The calculations error

Oh, what is love and what is hate? And why does it matter? Is to love just a waste? And how can it matter?

Oh...

As the dawn began to break I had to surrender The universe will have its way Too powerful to master

---- Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads (Huh??  What's happening??  same as it ever was, same as it ever was) ----

And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?" And you may ask yourself, "Where is that large automobile?" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"

...

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was Same as it ever was, same as it ever was

...

And you may ask yourself, "What is that beautiful house?" And you may ask yourself, "Where does that highway go to?" And you may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?" And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"

---- Don't Change - David Bazan (alcoholism, cycles of wanting to get better, depression, slipping in to old coping mechanisms, plus a little bit in here about dreams.  This is a song for if Harry continues partying after the memory wipe, I suppose) ----

He seems nice You met him once or twice But you wonder what he's like When he's sober

Then again You hear he has no friends Just people that he spins To do him favors

When he wakes up in the morning he tells himself Today I'll make a change But falling into his bed at night he thinks Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

I'm so deep That only in my sleep Do the secrets that I keep Float to the surface

So I hold them down Till they don't make a sound Like they accidentally drowned Except on purpose

And when I wake up in the morning I tell myself Today I'll make a change But falling into my bed at night I think Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

---- Airbag - Radiohead (born again, back to save the universe) ----

In the next world war In a jackknifed juggernaut I am born again In the neon sign scrolling up and down I am born again

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

In a deep, deep sleep of the innocent I am born again In a fast German car I'm amazed that I survived An airbag saved my life

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

---- A Comet Appears - The Shins (puppeting a man-body around pretending to be a living thing. drinking, depression) ----

One hand on this wily comet Take a drink just to give me some weight Some uber-man I'd make I'm barely a vapor

They shone a chlorine light on A host of individual sins Let's carve my aging face off Fetch us a knife Start with my eyes Down so the lines Form a grimacing smile

Close your eyes to corral a virtue Is this fooling anyone else? Never worked so long and hard To cement a failure

---- The Communists Have the Music - They Might be Giants (Big Communism Builder, but especially Harry's shallow understanding of Communism.  Party-boy communist) ----

I got handed an Ayn Rand sandwich Straight from the can, it tasted so bland I asked a lass to pass me a glass Of Engels' Conditions of the Working Class

Right away they dragged me to the committee To explain my un-American activity They're gonna see they made a mistake If they'd only let me play my mixtape

I'm not partial to the martial Or the plutocrats, in their beaver hats And the fascists have the outfits But I don't care for the outfits What I care about is music And the communists have the music

---- Harlem Roulette - The Mountain Goats (Harry thinking about Guillame le Million?  Generally: that vibe of secret, maybe supranatural machinations happening just outside your field of view.  A kinda lonely, pensive vibe, sprinkled with past drug use, driving...memory) ----

Unknown engines underneath the city Steam pushing up in billows through the grates Frankie Lymon's tracking "Seabreeze" in a studio in Harlem Its 1968. Just a pair of tunes to hammer out. Everybody's off the clock by 10:00. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. Feels so free when I hit the avenue. Nothing like a New York summer night. Every dream's a good dream, Even awful dreams are good dreams, If you're doing it right. Remember soaring higher than a cloud. Get pretty sentimental now and then. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. And four hours north of Portland, a radio flips on. And some no one from the future remembers that you're gone. Armies massing in the dusky distance. Ghosted in the ribbon microphone. Leave a little mark on something, maybe, Take the secret circuit home. Nothing in the shadows but the shadow hands. Reaching out to sad, young, frightened men. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.

---- Suture up Your Future - Queens of the Stone Age (Harry's gonna fix his mess) ----

I'm gon' suture up my future I ain't jaded, I just hate it See, I been down too long It's kinda hard to explain Burned and buried, all I carried

...

Tried explaining unexplained Got caught in the plan All this talking at once I've been giving my love away To the things that tear it apart I'm gonna suture up my future

---- Lampshades on Fire - Modest Mouse (Harry trashing his body / having already trashed his body, just kinda a Harry-vibe song) ----

...

Well, the lampshade's on fire when the lights go out This is what I really call a party now Well, fear makes us really, really run around A-this one's done so where to now? Our eyes light up, we have no shame at all Well, you all know what I'm talking about The room lights up, but we're still dancing around We're having fun, having some fun now

Pack up again, head to the next place Where we'll make the same mistakes Open one up and let it fall to the ground Pile out the door when it all runs out

...

As our feelings are getting hurt Oh, we want you to do the work Our ass looks great inside these jeans Well, we want just our water clean

Well, this is how it's always been And this is how it's going to be So you just move on

---- Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes (Harry "can-opener" du Bois.  Talking to the skills, solving things, detecting, generally being a terrifying force of nature / the pale) ----

I'm gonna fight 'em all A seven nation army couldn't hold me back They're gonna rip it off Taking their time right behind my back

And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette

And the message coming from my eyes Says, "Leave it alone"

Don't wanna hear about it Every single one's got a story to tell Everyone knows about it From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell

And if I catch it coming back my way I'm gonna serve it to you And that ain't what you want to hear But that's what I'll do

And the feeling coming from my bones Says, "Find a home"

---- Body of Years - Mother Mother (Harry's past that follows him, Harry's half-decomposed body that marks the years of abuse it's been through) ----

All the remains of a cadaver of days I keep hidden away, keep them there just in case I wanna visit that place Blow the dust from the bones Off a body of years that I leave all alone Just a body of years

See the skin disappears And the blood turns to stone In a body of years now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul It's a body of years that I leave all alone

It's Just a body of years, now a pile of bones You know Old soul who falls down Can't stop trippin' on these Old roads I go down Get back up and get my foot in the door And my face on the page Make my mark in the world With a bat and a blade It's a body of work that you can't ever change Like a body of years that you take to your grave It's just a body of years that I leave all alone It's just a body of years, now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul

---- The Cap-m - They Might be Giants (just a Harry vibe song) ----

When I talk you keep looking away from me 'Cause you probably think that I'm high on pot But I'm not, I'm not

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You say it's such a joke But I don't see you laughing

People seem to think you can't be called the Cap'm Unless you drive a boat Well, I don't I don't

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm Go ahead and mess with me You'll find out what will happ'm

...

Did you say what I think you just said My hat looks good on me? I agree, I agree

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You act like it's a joke But I don't see you laughing

---- Broke - Modest Mouse (oops!  all mistakes.  Broke it all.  Want to forget it but can't) ----

Broke account, so I broke a sweat I've bought some things that I sort of regret about now Broke my pace and ran out of time Sometimes I'm so full of shit that it should be a crime

Broke a promise 'cause my car broke down Such a classic excuse it should be bronze by now Broke your glasses, but it broke the ice You said that I was an asshole and I paid the price

Broken hearts want broken necks I've done some things that I'd love to forget, but I can't

Broke up, and I'm relieved somehow It's the end of the discussions that just go 'round and 'round And 'round, and 'round, and 'round ... It was like everything was evidence of broken time

You're living on fancy wine You'll drink that turpentine You're starting conversations You don't even know the topic

---- Spent Gladiator 2 - The Mountain Goats (Defiantly alive) ----

Like a spent gladiator, Crawling in the coliseum dust. Who can count on his remaining limbs, All the people he can trust. Like the one who stands behind him, Cheering him on. Ecstatic when he stands defiant, Wild with abandon when he's gone. Just stay alive. Keep your eyes on the pay line. Like a village on the step, About to get collectivized. When the men emerge with rifles from the haystack, Everybody looks surprised. Like the mice in the forgotten grain, Way up on the top shelf. Like someone who's found a small town to escape to, Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self. Stay in the game. Just try to play through the pain. Like a fighter who's been told its finally time for him to quit. Show up in shining colors, And then stand there and get hit. Like the clock that ticks in Dresden, When the whole town's been destroyed. Like the nagging flash of insight, You're always desperate to avoid. Like the bloody-knuckled gunman, Still stationed at the breach. Like that board game with the sliders, And the children on the beach. Stay alive. Maybe spit some blood at the camera. Just stay alive. Stay forever alive.

---- You Only Live Once - The Strokes (just general Harry, talking about the skills, choices you can make, what kind of cop you can be) ----

Twenty-nine different attributes Only seven that you like, oh-oh Twenty ways to see the world, oh And twenty ways to start a fight, oh

...

And countless odd religions too It doesn't matter which you choose, oh, no One stubborn way to turn your back, oh This I've tried and now refuse, oh

Oh don't, don't, don't get up I can't see the sunshine Oh, I'll be waiting for you, baby 'Cause I'm through Sit me down Shut me up I'll calm down And I'll get along with you

---- Pork and Beans - Weezer (Superstar Cop) ----

They say I need some rogaine to put in my hair Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear Oakley makes the shades to transform a tool You'd hate for the kids to think that you've lost your cool

I'ma do the things that I wanna do I ain't got a thing to prove to you I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans Excuse my manners if I make a scene I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like I'm fine and dandy with the me inside One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink I don't give a hoot about what you think

Everyone likes to dance to a happy song With a catchy chorus and beat so they can sing along Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art

I'ma do the things that I wanna do I ain't got a thing to prove to you I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans Excuse my manners if I make a scene I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like I'm fine and dandy with the me inside One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink I don't give a hoot about what you think

No, I don't care I don't care

---- Freaks - Surf Curse (head filled with skills, The Final Dream) ----

Don't kill me just help me run away From everyone I need a place to stay Where I can cover up my face Don't cry, I am just a freak

I am just a freak(x3)

My head is filled with parasites Black holes cover up my eyes I dream of you almost every night Hopefully I won't wake up this time

I won't wake up this time(x3)

---- The Smallest Church in Sussex - British Sea Power (oh yeah this is mandatory) ----

#disco elysium #harry du bois #harrier du bois #hdb #disco elysium playlist #generally wanted to keep this playlist fun to listen to despite the subject matter to there are still a lot of songs w good beats #communists have the music gets stuck in my head all the time #also sorry to repost this #i forgot to tag anything and if you edit something to add tags it doesn't seem to show up in search

[milky-pillow]

Song: Do I Wanna Know? (Arctic Monkeys) Characters: Yumeno Gentaro, Arisugawa Dice, Amemura Ramuda, Reader Relationship(s): Yumeno Gentaro/Reader

originally posted on ao3

“Have you got color in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type, That sticks around like summat in your teeth?”

Gentaro scans your face as you twirl the straw in your cup. With the silence between you two, he finds it hard to read what could be going through your mind.

Before he gets the chance to break the silence, you open your mouth, “it feels like you’ve changed since we’ve last spoken.”

Gentaro’s expression falters for a second before reverting back to his mask. The mask that you oh-so despised. He doesn’t respond immediately, as if trying to put some thought into his response.

“What do you mean?” his voice and smile seemingly taunting you.

“You’re asking me? I mean,” you pause and turn your gaze to the busy crowds of people in the streets, “it’s like you’re trying to avoid me.”

“Me? Avoid you? Why would I?”

“Look, it’s just a feeling. Right, you’re not avoiding me-- at least I hope you’re not. Well, I guess with you and I seeing each other face-to-face helps prove me wrong,” you trail off, bringing your drink to your lips. The sweetness of it satisfies your tongue, no residue being left on your lips as you place the cup down.

Gentaro laughs and taps the table to get your attention, “hey, cheer up! How about we order a cake to eat?”

Gentaro calls over a waiter to order a cake he thinks you’d like while you watch his expression. You repeat to yourself that he’s not avoiding you, that you’re being paranoid, that he wouldn’t purposely put distance between you two. He glances over at you to make sure you’re okay with the flavor, and you respond to his action by nodding with a smile. It warms your heart that he checks with you before ordering.

“I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week, How many secrets can you keep?”

“So,” you begin, breaking the second period of silence, “you’re participating in another division rap battle? I noticed you’ve been busy with Arisugawa and Amemura.”

A snicker escapes his lips as he drums the table with his hands, “you don’t have to call them that, you know. They see you as a friend, not someone of different status.”

Heat creeps it’s way up your face while you stutter, “r-right. Dice and Ramuda then. But you didn’t answer my question; though I take it you are?”

“Mhm,” he hums, pulling out a notebook, “I’ve been preparing for them, but I guess I’ve hit some sort of writer’s block.”

“You? Hit writer’s block? Liar. I don’t believe it,” you laugh as you call out his lie.

He pouts, “okay, so maybe it was. I don’t like how you call it out so easily now. Remember when you fell for everything I said?”

“Honestly, that feels like forever ago,” you give him a soft, yet sad smile, noticing him staring right back at you with a gentle expression.

“(Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways?”

Your eyes light up when your long-awaited cake arrives. Drool begins to pool in your mouth as you thank both the waiter and Gentaro. You couldn’t wait to dig in. When your eyes meet Gentaro’s, you feel a sense of disassociation from him. As much as you wanted to dismiss it, you felt yourself becoming attached to the thought that he’s hiding something from you.

You push the cake towards him to share some of it. When he waves his hand to signal he doesn’t want a piece, you place a fork in his hand.

“You really wanna share it with me, huh?” he teases, giving in and taking a slice.

Finishing the slice on your plate, you grin at him, “what? You didn’t want a taste of this delicious food? How’d you know what flavor to pick? This tastes amazing!” While your exclamation draws the attention of some customers around you, your eyes continue to sparkle.

After persistent convincing, Gentaro takes another slice. Your heartbeat accelerates when he meets your eyes with a smile that has never felt so genuine. If you had to guess, he was either really enjoying the cake, or he was getting comfortable. Feeling accomplished, you helped yourself to your drink and another small slice.

“Woah, what’s the sudden burst of energy from?” Gentaro touches your hand to get you to slow your pace.

You lift your fork halfway to your mouth, stopping to respond, “no reason.”

Gentaro can only shrug, knowing how stubborn you can get when he tries to pry.

“Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do”

By the end of the evening, you had a takeaway box of a half-eaten cake and a smile plastered on your face. The both of you walked out the building side-by-side, catching up about things you had in common. You enjoyed yourself so much, you forgot to ask Gentaro what he thought.

“Um, Gentaro?” you change the subject by posing your question, “knowing you’re busy and all, when would I get to see you again?”

Teasingly, he sticks out his tongue, “when either of us choose to reach out I guess? Kidding, I’ll give you a call to let you know when I’m free.”

You could sense his lie, but you didn’t want to start an argument by mentioning it. Before he could tell you he was lying, you split off with him and rushed back to your apartment.

You could only imagine what could happen between the two of you. With a wave of emotions hitting you from a blind spot, you lay in bed and ponder to yourself. Becoming bored of the plain white ceiling, you turn to your side to reach for a drink, only to find you’ve run out.

A sigh escapes your lips as you head to get a cup of juice for yourself. You lean against your kitchen counter and stare at the paintings that filled your blank walls. The colors look more blended together than usual, the cold tones screaming out to you. Tearing your eyes away, you opt to look out your window. Though your scenery was filled with other buildings and streetlights, the view of the sunset was still visible. For a brief moment, your lonely heart felt a little less lonely.

“So have you got the guts? Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts”

Ring! Ring! Ring!

It was your phone. Ring! Of course it was. Ring! Ring! Broken from your distraction, you place your cup down and bring your phone to your ears. With a simple tap, you were connected with the caller.

“Hello?” out of habit, the word slips right out.

“Y/n!” Ramuda excitedly beams, “you were just with Gentaro, right?”

“Yeah, why? Is he okay?”

“Of course, of course! I was just asking is all,” he seems to be holding back laughter. He covered his microphone and all you can hear is muffled bickering.

You sip on your juice while you wait for more, but when you don’t, you speak up, “um, Ra- Ramuda?”

Just as you speak, the call disconnects. Confusion seeps through your skin and into your very soul. Unable to connect the dots, you head to bed.

In the morning, you wake to a string of messages and missed calls. This rarely happens. No, this never happens. Squinting your eyes due to the light of your screen, you read the texts. They were all sent from Gentaro, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was the sender as it had gone back and forth between “sorry, that wasn’t me” to “that was a lie; it was me.” All of the missed calls were also from Gentaro, but you start to find it hard to believe he was the caller.

Testing your luck, you call back.

“Y/n! You finally picked up!”

“Gentaro?”

“Nope, this is Dice!”

“Oh,” you attempt to hide your disappointment with a question, “why do you have Gentaro’s phone? Not to sound rude, but I’m sort of confused.”

Ramuda snatches the phone from Dice and greets you, “mornin’ y/n! Could you come over? We want to talk to you about something. I promise it’s not anything bad! I’ll send the address to our office on this phone.”

“Hold on,” you blurt out before he can end it, “why can’t we talk about it over the phone? I mean, do- do I really have to go over there? Not that I can’t, but if it’s important it’s quicker over the phone, right?”

“Look, no time to explain. Just,” Ramuda takes a deep breath, “do it for me? If not then for Gentaro.”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

He ends the call before you could protest anymore. Seconds later, your phone dings with the address Ramuda was expecting you to go to. Who are you to displease a member of Fling Posse-- and even an ex-member of The Dirty Dawgs?

“I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together if you wanted to”

Hesitance filled your body, heart pounding against your chest and filling your ears. With trembling hands, you open the door to Fling Posse’s office.

The moment you step inside, Dice and Ramuda stand up in excitement, “you came!”

“Of- of course,” you stutter in embarrassment, mentally scolding yourself for your stuttering.

They gesture for you to take a seat, and so you do. Sitting back down, their happy expressions falter. The acceleration of your heart rate doesn’t make you feel any better than you were already feeling.

“Let me get straight to the point, we need your help,” Ramuda says, not getting straight to the point.

Out of nervousness, you burst into uncomfortable laughter, “m- my help? I’m of no use to you, trust me, but what would you need me for?”

“Well, we just need you for one smallllll thing,” Dice chimes. They go on to explain that they need you to get Gentaro to be more open.

Ramuda claps his hands together, “so that’s the plan!”

You shake your head so much it felt as if your brain was going to shatter, “no way! I- I can’t ju- just do that! He’ll know something’s up for sure!”

“If it’s you, there’s no way he will,” he smirks at you.

Knowing you won’t be able to get out of the situation, you agree to follow the plan, “on one condition, though. You can’t make me do anything like this again.”

“Deal,” Dice and Ramuda simultaneously nod their heads.

“(Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day”

“Thanks for meeting up with me, I hope you weren’t busy or anything,” Gentaro smiles at you.

Your face burns as you take a seat and look around, “of course not, but this is definitely, uh, new?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Gentaro crosses his arms, “am I not allowed to invite you out?”

“You know what I mean. This fancy restaurant has nobody? It’s unusual. Also, I thought you originally invited Ramuda and Dice.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I heard this place was good and I was able to snag us spots. Ramuda and Dice couldn’t make it, so I opted for you; is that bad?”

“It’s not bad, but spots? The whole place is empty.”

Gentaro raises his hands guiltily while chuckling quietly, “you caught me. I may or may not have pulled some strings, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”

Liar. With no energy to call him out for his lie, you both order your food and eat in silence. While silence can be comforting, you felt like you had to talk. An uneasy feeling begins to settle in your stomach as you try to drown it with your food.

“Maybe I'm too (Maybe I'm too busy) Busy bein' yours (Bein' yours) To fall for somebody new”

Though you both made small talk throughout the night, time didn’t seem to pass. But whether you believe it or not, you were both in the back of a taxi heading to your apartment. Not for him to go into, but for him to make sure you would make it back safely.

“I got lucky being able to see you two days in a row,” you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you gaze out the window.

“Am I just that amazing?” Gentaro’s response makes you laugh. How is it that you’re enjoying the ride back? You can’t believe yourself and hope it doesn’t make you appear rude.

You nod and turn your head to look at him. He is amazing and you know that. If he was planning on doing this for his friends, he definitely sees you the same way he sees them. Nonetheless, you take in the moment and could only wish for what could be.

“Do you want me crawlin' back to you?”

END.

#songfic #one shot #hypnosis mic #hypmic #fling posse #yumeno gentaro #arisugawa dice #amemura ramuda #gentaro x reader #gender neutral reader

[gehayi]

It's possible that Tom Riddle seduced Merope Gaunt & later on she lied to get him to marry her or more likely she had symptoms of a false pregnancy & believed she was pregnant which led her to tell him she's with child. Given the social pressures of the time he left with her & the 2 likely eloped with Merope becoming pregnant later on but when Tom learned of this it lead him to abandon her anyways. What is your view on what really happened between Merope Gaunt & Tom Riddle Senior?

It’s possible, sure, that Merope could have lied about being pregnant or could have read the symptoms of false pregnancy wrong . But...well, I’ve been to school with rich privileged kids, and I find it more believable that Tom Sr. found the silent adoration of the ugly daughter of the local hermit amusing enough to exploit. 

I could see him having a bet with his friends about how far he could push this and for how long. I could even see one of his friends dressing up like a minister and Tom going through a mockery of a marriage both to reassure her and to make fun of her. She thinks that it’s strange, of course, but what does she know about how Muggles do things? And meanwhile, Tom Sr. is looking oh-so-serious and he wants this and he wants her and for once in her life, it seems like she has what matters.

Meanwhile, Tom’s friends are stifling their laughter and trying not to meet each other’s eyes for fear that they’ll lose it.

After the fake marriage--who knows how long?--Tom convinces Merope to come with him to London--in April 1926 at the latest. He drives them there, or they take a train. Either way, he arranges the transportation and pays for a hotel room. Maybe he tells her that this is going to be their honeymoon. Maybe he says that they’re going to set up their own house in London. It doesn’t matter to him, as long as the lie works.

Merope isn’t familiar with Muggle cities, Muggle tech of the 1920s, or Muggle money. (She may not even be fully literate; we know that she never went to school and that her father taught her and her brother nothing.)  London is an incomprehensible maze to her. And the hotel room is clean and warm and has soft carpets and pictures on the wall. There’s a box that produces music and stories and news. Lights come on with the touch of a button. And she doesn’t have to cook or clean anything. It’s luxury that she’s never dreamt of. 

To quote the very wise Ursula Vernon, “Relief feels like happiness, if you don’t know the difference.” 

Tom is pleased that she’s so easily satisfied; he doesn’t have to explain to anyone he knows why he’s with this ugly woman. He pays for clothes for her, but he doesn’t take her anywhere. When he’s bored with Merope, he tells her that he has to go out and then parties with his friends. She doesn’t question him. She doesn’t even consider doing so.

In May 1926, there’s a general strike. 

Roads all across Britain become impassible.  Buses have to barricade their windows. The strikers derail the train the Flying Scotsman in Northumberland. The government declares martial law. It even sends a warship to Newcastle. The world has turned upside down.

Merope hears about all this on the radio; it’s her main form of entertainment. She starts peppering him with questions. Why is the strike happening? Why is everyone so angry?

Tom is shaking and tense and can scarcely think coherently. How can these creatures, these underlings, rebel against the orderly system he’s been part of since birth?  And how can this--this daughter of a mere tramp question him?

He yells at her to shut up. He apologizes afterward, and Merope accepts his apology. But the bloom is off the rose now. She knows now that he can be pointlessly cruel, just like her father and brother.

She tries very hard not to know this.

The general strike ends after nine days. Martial law, however, drags on and on. So do transportation problems. And 1.7 million strikers are now out of work. This is not the bright, fun city Tom wanted to visit. 

June arrives. By now Merope’s adoration isn’t as intriguing to Tom, and her pregnancy is starting to show as well.  Like many men and boys of privileged backgrounds, Tom thinks of pregnancy as something that only happens if the woman wills it. He is sickened and outraged that Merope has gotten pregnant--to trap him, he’s sure--and he chews her out for this.

Merope, though, was painfully isolated while growing up. She knew only her father and brother. Her father warned her repeatedly  not to let a Muggle touch her...but he didn’t provide any clarifying details. She had no mother, no sisters, no female friends. She had no education to speak of. Porn was not conveniently available. And she could not read. 

So, faced with Tom’s rage, Merope is at sea, for nothing he says is making sense. She doesn’t know how menstruation, conception and pregnancy work. The world hasn’t bothered to tell her.

Also...partying would have eaten into Tom’s money anyway, but the general strike and its disruption of transportation has made goods like food much more expensive. Though Tom doesn’t want to admit it, his funds are running frighteningly low. He needs the good will of his parents to acquire more cash, and quickly He also needs to square matters with the  rich, upper-class, utterly suitable young woman he’s actually going to marry while assuring her that the Merope situation is no fault of his. 

Arguments begin breaking out daily, then hourly. Tom starts them, taunting Merope’s wall-eyes and ignorance. She despairs when she hears this--after all, mockery and derision are all she’d ever heard from her father and brother.   She loves Tom desperately, but he doesn’t love her.

She doesn’t yell, because she’s been trained since childhood not to. Instead, she begs him frantically, frenziedly not to leave her, because he's the one who knows how to handle this incomprehensible city.  But her panic repels Tom, who sees it as clingy manipulation. It’s only London, after all. There’s nothing to fear.

So one day he returns home--without telling Merope. She's escorted out of the hotel room shortly after that.  He didn’t stiff her with the bill, but not out of kindness. He simply doesn’t want anything, even a bill, tying him to her.

Merope is now alone and adrift in London.  No money. No marketable skills. No transportation beyond her own feet--she has no way of paying for buses or cabs, and she may not even know the Underground exists. And no home.  It’s August, maybe September of 1926.  A rainy August, a mild September.  She’s five or six months along.  And winter is coming.

It comes in October, with freezing cold for most of the month and a snowstorm on the 28th.

She’s been living rough for a month or two. The clothes she’d worn earlier that year aren’t warm enough for October, and the cold has begun to gnaw at her bones. She's starving, too, and by now she knows that countless Muggles, all more qualified for any job than she is, are also out of work, thanks to May’s general strike.

She doesn’t ask anyone else for help. She should, but Tom was the only Muggle she ever really knew--and he betrayed her. She can’t bring herself to  trust another.

And oh, she doesn’t dare go home. Even if she knew where it was and how to get there, her father would beat her to death for polluting the pure line of Gaunt with a Muggle’s get. And her brother Morfin would join in. Happily.

She begs--for food, mostly, though sometimes people give her money. Sometimes, too, they give her advice--to go to a church or a shelter or some government office. Merope nods and smiles and ignores the advice. She’s not going to trust the Muggle government after this past May, and she won’t shelter with dozens of Muggles. That would be suicide.

November 1926 is one of the wettest on record in the UK. Merope falls ill halfway through the month. She’s starting to have trouble breathing, and she’s tired and achy all the time. 

December is filled with bitter, Arctic chill. 

Merope has little strength left. She’s not getting enough air, somehow, and she’s constantly shaking with heat or cold, she doesn’t know which. Her vision is blurry, and even when she can obtain food, it’s hard to keep it down.

You’re dying, a voice says deep inside, and she knows the voice is right.

One day, she spots a building with lots of people caring for babies and children. She asks meekly, and someone--whoever tossed her a sixpence? another beggar?--tells her it’s an orphanage. Merope doesn’t know what that is, but she knows her baby would be better off inside the building than outside it. 

December 31, 1926 is a mild, sunny day. Merope thinks of it as a good omen...until the pains start.

Merope doesn’t know anything about childbirth; she simply feels as if she’s being ripped apart from the inside out. She screams, not even caring if the Muggles hear. 

Somehow, somehow, she manages to limp and crawl to the orphanage. She knocks on the door, which is the bravest thing she’s ever done. But her baby can’t survive a winter on the street. Maybe the Muggles will take care of him if they don’t know his mother was a witch.

She doesn’t even notice that she’s thinking of herself in the past tense.

A woman named Mrs. Cole answers the door and bustles her into a spare bedroom. It’s still unbearably cold, so cold that Merope thinks that her bones will shatter from shaking so hard, but there’s light and color and oh, it reminds her of the hotel room before everything went wrong. And Mrs. Cole is speaking to her in a kind, soothing tone and letting Merope grip her arms when the pains are bad. For the first time since Tom, Merope feels valued. Safe.

Her son is born at a minute to midnight, a scrawny scrap of humanity. Small wonder. Merope’s had little enough to eat for months. He has good strong lungs, though, which pleases her in a dim way. The world seems to be fading away, but that’s all right. She just wants to sleep.

She hears Mrs. Cole asking her something. Not her name--she told Mrs. Cole that before. Oh! The baby’s name.

There’s only one name she could give him--the one Muggle name that means anything to her. 

“Tom,” she murmurs. “Tom...Riddle...Jun--”

And a soothing darkness claims her.

#mrardin85 #ficlet #merope gaunt #merope/tom sr #harry potter #complete disaster

[thedarklightwithinus]

Locked Away

A/N; Lock down got me finishing fics I never thought I would. I’ve had this one sitting around for WEEKS. Its much different to what I usually write so I do hope you enjoy it!

Pairing; Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary; Dreams are just dreams. But they could be so much more.

GIF not mine.

Darkness surrounded her.

Of course, she'd seen darkness before. The kind that made the streets look like an old fashioned photograph; Everything a shade of grey. The kind that made out as if the daytime had been one part of a play and the rest was to come after the break of night.

The darkness that she found herself suddenly engulfed in was not that type. This was the type of darkness that robed your best sense and replaced it with paralysing fear. In this darkness, she stood as still as can be. Her muscles cramped and unable to move.

This darkness felt heavy, oppressive. Almost... Supernatural. It was darker than the darkest black, If that was even possible. The absence of light deprived her of her senses, even her hands didn't know anymore where they began. 

The only reason she knew her eyes were open was because she could feel herself blink; instinctively moistening what she had no use for in that moment. She couldn't hear anything either. She wondered if that small fact should've brought her heart rate down below the level of a rabbit in a snare... It didn't.  

Despite the quietness, Y/N knew that she wasn't alone. She was a natural predator by day, the front facing eyes of any operation. By night, she succumbed to the agonising fear that flowed through her for as long as she could remember.

For at night, she became what she most feared to be.

Scared. 

As a young child, her dreams were plagued with that of darkness. Not once could she remember dreaming of anything other than the dark hole that was nothingness. People at her school would talk of their dreams the following day. ‘I dreamt that I was walking through pink clouds last night!’ She would hear them say, listening in to the conversations she was so obviously left out of.

Kids will be kids, her dad would say. Kids will be kids, her mum would say. Y/N had taken a valuable lesson from that. Her parents had told her exactly what they thought kids being kids meant. Kids being kids didn’t mean playing football or tag on the school playground. Kids being kids didn’t mean braiding each others hair or having sleepovers.

To them, kids being kids meant that they would find a target and shoot. Verbal, physical, mental. It all narrowed down to the same thing. Bullying. It had been a big part of her childhood. To narrow it all up, she didn't fit in.

She was different. 

As she pondered her past, her eyes adjusted and she thought she saw something. Or rather, failed to see something. Within the darkness surrounding her was another dark. A darker dark. A wall of it loomed in front of her that seemed to respect neither personal space, or sneaking up on someone.

She didn't speak, her form locked up as she breathed through her open mouth, trying to make herself unheard to the form before her. Her hearing seemed to be working overtime, finally picking up the sound of the form breathing.

Warmth slapped her in the face as she felt the coldness that was once taking over wisp away towards her back where nothing warm stood. 

The warmth was what gave away that the form in front of her was something living. Or rather, someone living. Her left hand raised up slowly, not a shake to be felt as she placed her palm against the form and felt the steady movement that seemed to move in time with her breathing.

It was as though God had spoken the moment the tips of her fingers touched the form before her.

Let there be light! 

And light there was. 

From the tips of her fingers, a warm orange glow seemed to steadily build. It’s colour flickering between that of a tangerine and a beautiful sunflower. 

It flickered lightly, spreading from the tips of her fingers to the palm of her hand. It pulsed against the form, darkening and then lightening as though it had no care for the current darkness surrounding it.

The light was dominant and it knew it. Without it, darkness would prosper once more. 

As most light does, warmth came with it. Despite the light, the warmth came from her. It travelled through her whole being, projecting out the palm of her hand and made the light much brighter then it had any reason being.

A man... Blonde. The form before her wasn’t anything to be scared of. Or was it? Should she be trembling in her shoes or should she be thankful that it wasn’t something worse then a man? 

Then again, to some people, there is nothing worse than a man. Is she some people? Should she be some people? Could she be some people? 

Three no’s. No to the first, no to the second and it was a certain no to the third. She was not some people. She couldn’t be some people. She wouldn’t be some people.

Time was a distant memory. A thing that was long forgotten. The two of them could have been stood together for seconds. Or they could’ve been stood there for days. Neither would ever know. 

A melody. A beautiful chain of chords. It whispered throughout the air, dancing throughout. It started of as barely anything. What it grew to be? Everything. 

“It’s very cold here isn’t it?” 

The words came from the blonde. It was almost as if the light that came from her had given him the power he needed to speak. 

“I didn’t notice.” 

It was her turn to speak. Speak as though this man was a friend. As if he was someone she had known for along time. 

“When you've been her as long as I have, you tend to grow used to it.” He lips turned upward. A smile. 

“Where are we exactly?” She asked, looking around and still seeing darkness. “How did I get here?” 

“Don't be silly, you’re not really here.” The blonde chuckled, a shake of his head as he sighed and suddenly looked very solemn. “I can’t give you an exact location but I can tell you that it’s Arctic.” 

“The Arctic?” The blonde nodded in reply. “And why is it so dark?” 

“This place, where I am... It’s in the ice.” 

“This is all a dream right?” She raised a brow, confused with the goings on.

”Yes. It’s a dream for you. That doesn’t mean that I’m not where I say am.” The blonde gripped her wrist in his left and pushed her hand down until the light from her hand reflected against her eyes.

She winced, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before forcing them back open and looking at the cause for her discomfort.

A star.

It was the centre of what he wore, embroiled into the fabric. The main feature, one could say. One second later, she frowned. She knew who this man was. 

“Now, you need to wake up because you have work to do.” with that said, he pushed her hand away from him, the light flickering away until darkness fell once more. 

Miles away, Y/N Y/L/N awoke with a start.

-

#marvel #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america x y/n #captain america x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #reader insert

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #343

“i slither like a viper and get you by the neck  /  i know a thousand ways to help you forget about her”

What's your favorite kind of bear? I don't really know. I just like bears. Have you ever sent a FWD because you were afraid? Ha, yup, as a little kid. Would you ever date more than one person at a time? Nooooo sir. Have you ever rebounded... or been someone's rebound? No. What’s the biggest argument you’ve ever had with a family member? Did things ever go back to how they were beforehand? My grandmother cursed me the fuuuuck out one night as a kid because I was in a mood and didn't tell my mother goodnight. I still remember being called an ungrateful bitch with her like an inch from my face, and admittedly, I was being rude because I wanted to go home, but it kinda scarred me for life. For the remainder of her life, I was always sort of on edge around her and was convinced she didn't like me. Have you ever experienced some kind of natural disaster? I've been through lots of hurricanes. None that massively affected my life, though. If you have pets, do you feed them human food or do they just get regular pet food? If they do get human food, what’s their favorite thing to have? Venus is a snake, so she obviously doesn't get food meant for humans. Roman is very well-trained to not beg or make a move for people's food; he tried once as a kitten, and giving him a pop taught him right away. Have you ever been in a physical fight? Who won? No. What’s the mode of transport that you take or use the most? The car. Mom's, specifically. Have you ever had a zoo keeper experience or anything where you’ve been able to go behind the scenes and look after/feed the animals? No, but I wish. :( Would you ever want the responsibility of being a politician or a similar position of power? NOOOOOOO. What’s something your parents do that really annoys you? Mom is *always* right, pretty much indisputably. And she WILL have the last word. Dad, meanwhile, can be pretty rude to people. I don't think he realizes it half the time, but still. It's not an excuse. What is your main source of anxiety? Social interactions. What’s your favorite 90s cartoon? Pokemon. Describe the moment you realized you were falling in love with someone. I'd rather not. What’s your favorite sparkling water brand/flavor? I've never tried sparkling water. What’s your favorite makeup brand/brands? I don't have a favorite, considering I don't wear it nearly enough and have never even bought my own. I just use whatever Mom buys. What are some female names you would name a baby? Alessandra is my favorite for sure. I also love Anneliese, Justine, Evelyn, Chloe, Evangeline, Quinn... There's a lot. What about male? Severin is my favorite, and I also like Damien, Vincent, Victor, and Luther. Do you have any subscription boxes? No. What fictional creature would you like as a pet? I want a dragon, goddammit. Idc if it can breathe fire ok I want a dragon. Ewoks are also the one and only thing I enjoy from Star Wars. What kind of dwelling do you live in? Just a one-story house. Is there anyone you work with that you don't get along with? Why? N/A Do you have an opinion on adopting/purchasing a pet? PLEASE adopt, especially with cats and dogs, given the number of strays. Purebreds tend to have so many underlying issues, and besides, it's just a LOT of money for an animal that probably wouldn't outlive a mutt. Don't feed the machine if you can. What's your favorite chain restaurant? The Cheesecake Factory or Olive Garden. Why were you last pulled over? I’ve never been pulled over before. What was the last thing you've done on the water? Just kinda swam around a bit in the ocean. It was so warm, totally like a bath. I do NOT miss that sun poisoning, though. Are you cool with swimming in a lake? I think I'd do it if someone invited me to, and the lake didn't look filthy, of course. Do you have a drone? No. What's your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant? We have this tiny, local Mexican place that's really good. I don't know the name of it, and I wouldn't share it for obvious reasons. What do you order from there? Chips and salsa of course, along with a shrimp and cheese quesadilla, and finally their cheesy rice. What's your favorite ice-cream flavor? Depending on my mood, it bounces between vanilla with chocolate syrup or just plain chocolate. Do you have any t-shirts from any local businesses? No. Do you listen to any talk shows or podcasts? I used to listen to Mark, Bob, and Wade's podcast, but I'm like... ten months behind, haha. What's something someone calls you that you find endearing? I like "love" a lot. What's your favorite children's book? I loved books like The Rainbow Fish, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Stellaluna, 10 Minutes 'til Midnight, What Makes a Rainbow?, Chrysanthemum, etc. Is there a new season for a series you're excited to come out? Meerkat Manor comes back this summer, and I am fucking HYPED. How old are you? I'm 25. What is something unique you enjoy about the one you like/love? I tease her about it all the time, but it's really cute that she keeps all of her snakes' good sheds in her room. Proud reptile mom. Are you more liberal or conservative? I'm close to the middle, but I lean towards being more liberal, and I seem to go more that way with time. Do you watch American Horror Story? I used to. I saw the entire first season and really liked it, and then I almost finished the second, but I lost interest. The story got a bit stupid imo. I'd be willing to watch other seasons, though. Does your hometown have any urban legends/scary stories? None that I’m aware of. The people there are scary enough. What's the scariest nightmare you remember having? Let's not talk about it. Are you medicated? Uh very. Are there any apps you're addicted to? Nah. Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? It was initially a bunny holding a polka-dotted blanket, then it become a moose I got from Cabela's when in Ohio. Do you still collect stuffed animals? Only meerkat ones. Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex? Haha I've worn Jason's pj pants before and they just kinda... became mine, lol. What's the last movie you watched at home? The Shining, I believe. What's the last movie you watched in theaters? The CGI remake of The Lion King. I still don't get why it was received so badly. Have you ever had eggs cooked over a campfire? I don't think so, no. If you do drink, what's your favorite alcoholic beverage? Margaritas, generally. However, Sara's dad made me this absofuckinglutely incredible chocolate drink before that tasted like a milkshake. It had like, no alcohol flavor, which worked out well for me considering I very much dislike that taste. Are there any songs you've been listening to repetitively lately? There's a new one every day lately, haha. Today it's Halocene's cover of "Love Bites (So Do I)." Cereal, granola, or oatmeal? Cereal. What TV shows did you grow up watching? You gotta gimme an age group... but I'd say the typical stuff for kids of that time. What does your phone case look like? It's just a boring purple that came with it. What were your favorite toys to play with as a child? I looooved playing with my "family" of a father crocodile, a mother deer, their two "children" (a fawn and smaller croc), and "friends" that were little Pokemon figurines. Then there was an evil t-rex with two stupid sidekicks, haha. I can't remember what dinosaurs they were. What's the most embarrassing thing you can ever remember doing? Hold on, lemme find my book. Do you remember what you dreamt about last night? I only very faintly recall dreaming about my cat Roman. Have you ever done anything embarrassing in a dream? Thank FUCK they're just dreams. Do you vape? Nah. What was a song you loved as a child? So uh. Apparently. I loved "Dookie" by Green Day. It's an undying story from Mom about how it came on once at a putt-putt place and I apparently started yelling "dookie!" and dancing. Do you enjoy the Arctic Monkeys? Yeah, I love some of their songs. Are you going to see Finding Dory? You bet your sweet ass I saw it. I've cried everytime I've watched it. Have you ever been horseback-riding? I have not, but I would love to. When was your last piercing? Whenever I got my tragus done, which I can't remember. What did your first crush look like? I don't remember my puppydog love first crush, but I can talk about my first REAL crush, Sebastian. He's a skinny dude with short, brown hair and a lip piercing... I can't remember which kind. He dressed in an emo style, and Facebook pictures at least suggest he still kind of does, I think. Is your body more curvy or flat? Well, I'm not at all skinny, so... What's your least favorite holiday? Probably Christopher Colombus Day, honestly. You didn't discover shit. Don't pretend to me it's worth celebrating in a clean conscience. if you’re having a boring day what do you usually do? If I'm rock-bottom bored, quite honestly, I normally nap, even though I know I shouldn't. Do you turn to food when you're upset? Ugh, I'm admittedly an emotional eater. I got way better about it, and then I started up again. Is your bf/gf good with your parents? I don't have an s/o. Do you think soda should be served at school? Vending machines are fine I suppose, as I don't believe they should be free seeing as they're nothing but sugar content, and I feel schools shouldn't just hand that out to kids at lunch or something. Do dogs have feelings? They sure do. Are you afraid of snakes? Oh no! I adore them. I respect snakes and am going to give wild ones their space for sure considering I don't recognize every native venomous one, but nevertheless, I'm not afraid of them. They are so vital to the ecosystem and are incredibly fascinating animals that deserve our protection. On that note, PLEASE do not kill any snake you come across in your shed or whatever. Call someone to relocate the terrified thing. Favorite snack? It depends on what I'm in the mood for, really. Ever seen The Notebook? Read the book, seen the movie plenty of times. Do you think cussing is trashy? No. Who is the most famous person you’ve met, if any? Nobody. Do you own any animals that aren’t domestic? No. Have you ever feared that you would lose a body part? No. Do you like gore? Yeah, generally. Do you like to drink water? Ugh, I really don't. I wish I did. Have you ever had a wax? I used to get my eyebrows waxed. Do you have any sets of matching bras and underwear? No. Are you any good at improv? Not at ALL.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''love bites (so do i)'' by halestorm

[boomtoodle]

A Collection of Impossible

I don’t totally remember when we first met. They were kind of always in my life, but for the most part, it felt like they were in the background, like when you watch a movie and you’re so invested in the main character you don’t notice they’re in the middle of times square with hundreds of people around them just minding their business, clueless of the epic they are in the presence of. I don’t know when we first started to hang out, I kind of wish I did because then we could celebrate an anniversary of our friendship or something, but alas, I have been cursed with ambiguity. Oh, but how vivid and vibrant the memories I have of them are.

Before meeting them, my memories were kind of like blurry disposable camera pictures with poor lighting, terrible quality, awkward angles, and a plethora of other flaws that would make any photographer worth their meaningless cinematography degree shudder. In these disposable camera memories processed by some drugstore were a few recognizable settings or faces, but I was never able to remember what exactly went on.

Anyways, what matters now are these gorgeously animated and sparkling memories. You know how in anime the food looks amazing? It’s got this bling-y and sparkly effect that makes it look otherworldly? Well, these memories with them were kind of like food in anime.

I drifted asleep counting these technicolor sheep. The laughter, clear as arctic ice, playing like a couple songbirds giving their finest operatic performance of my favorite song. My shoulders feeling an almost vertigo sensation of shaking from giggling like a couple of elementary kids who found the word “toilet” in the dictionary for the first time, and are desperately trying to not get in trouble. Memories of hilarious conversation playing in my head like the latest A-list comedy that is “coming to a theater near you” and has all the Hollywood bourgeoisie buzzing about the infamous award season.

I lived the most fantastical, bewitching, spectral life a high schooler could imagine. I mean, this is the stuff those tacky teenage rom-coms dreamt about being. And I was living it. Me! Average, size 10 jeans, poop-brown hair and equally poop-brown eyes, bitten off fingernails, terrible posture, never gotten an A+, bad at everything I tried, disappointing (yet consistent) me!

For a while I couldn’t believe it. I wanted so desperately to pinch myself, but then I could never come to terms with waking up from this rose-tinted dream. So, I decided that I would ignorantly (yet totally blissfully) continue to serve the rest of my existence within this mythical REM.

With them even the dullest, most Tuesday-esque, empty notebook-y, fifth period-y, going grocery shopping with your mom-ish, and characterless days were nothing short of entirely splendid. Every glance, pursing of lips so that you don’t cry-laugh in public, inside joke within an inside joke so that now it’s kind of like inside joke inception, reference to stupid celebrity, snort from laughing too hard, and breathless giggle was like Elysium incarnted.

#original poem

[dansiere]

FIVE SONGS

list five songs associated with your muse and its meaning to them as a character, or to you as the writer. this can be applied in-character or out-of-character. it can go as deep as looking at the song’s real-world origins or meaning along with the themes it carries to the muses’ story, values, or experiences, or as simple as if your muse would listen to this kind of music, or even if you just listen to these pieces for inspiration.

TAGGED BY: @handspoken, who kinda hates me? Just kidding I love you okay. TAGGING: @rosiqe, @citialiin, @absolutia, @huntershowl, @blossomingbeelzebug, @foxcharmed, @noirtux, @hiskniight, @ndeavor, @kissafist, @ahsterism (muse of your choice!), @carvedbones, @enshijou & @ettards. -- steal it, honestly. It is a great meme.

01. Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell Moons and Junes and ferries wheels, the dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way. 

I have probably talked about this song so often already but BOY where do I start? I was watching “Love Actually” & Both Sides Now started playing; it’s the scene where Karen (Emma Thompson) almost breaks down & cries while realizing that her relationship is a farce, that she has been foolish & blind & delusional. It continues with her doing her absolute best to calm herself down, to not collapse but function instead; she pretends she is fine, fearing that she might ruin her family’s Christmas party otherwise. It’s a raw, emotional scene unfolding itself while Joni sings about how she came to realize that everything has two sides; the very thing we dream off, aka we imagine / how we wish things are & the harsh reality. No song could ever express Pearl’s delusion with life & love [but also realizing one’s naivity] better than this one; the aspect of pretending that she is fine in order to not ruin her family’s lives with her agony fits excruciatingly well too. -- in fact, the stanza “I have looked at love from both sides now, from give and take & still somehow it’s love’s illusions that I recall. I really don’t know love at all” has been my blog description for months & I won’t change it any time soon. Additionally, this song is about growth & personal change sung with a certain candidness that words can’t really describe  -- this song single-handedly inspired me to create this blog, ngl.

02. Dernière Danse - Indila Oh my sweet torment, no point in fighting, you start again. I'm just a worthless being, without [her] I'm troubled. I wander around alone on the subway, a last dance: To forget my great misery. I want to get away, everything to start again.

Number two on my list is a bit of an oddity; it is the song that inspired me to change my URL & bottom header quote. I have always related this song to Pearl basically because it SOUNDS cheerful, has a more upbeat melody & seems positive enough on the outside; however, upon looking at the lyrics & understanding what the artist actually sings about you may or may not get chills. It’s literally a song about losing oneself, misery & the horrid feeling of loneliness after loss all wrapped up in some funky & cheery melody. It seems rather SURREAL at first & upon translating the lyrics you might believe Google is messing with you but... no. The cheery intro fools you, just how Pearl fools everyone in believing that she is a-okay. -- the song grows more & more serious / dramatic with the melody / beat becoming “heavier” over time. While still rather peppy, you can tell that something is wrong the second the background choir kicks in. -- needless to say, I consider the lyrics to be a reference to Pearl’s extreme directionlessness, her lack of purpose, severe lethargy & how she lost herself in her misery.

03. Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey And there's no remedy for memory your face Is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me That everything is fine, but I wish I was dead.

At first, I wanted to use this meme as an excuse to gush on & on about It’s Over, isn't it? but then I remembered that Dark Paradise is a thing. Lana Del Rey simply had to be on here due to her habit of utterly & completely romanticizing tragic romance & death to an almost unhealthy degree. Pearl is guilty of the same issue. -- glorifying things you should absolutely not glorify. Dark Paradise deals with the loss of true love & the trauma that follows; not being able to move on, not being able to let go, blind devotion, stuck in the same grief, the same melancholy, the same subtle craving for death (through drowning). It’s haunting really, but these are topics that not only fit Pearl aesthetically but also motif wise. The largest part of her season 1 - 3 arc dealt with her grief over losing Rose & her inability to overcome her trauma in that regard. Dark Paradise strikes that nerve & expresses that despair rather accurately. 

04. Blinding - Florence and the Machine And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack All around the world was waking, I never could go back Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open And finally it seemed that the spell was broken.

I wanted to add a song that might describe Pearl’s mentality more; something from Sleeping At Last, Aurora or Sia maybe, but given how I have been gushing about Florence & the Machine lately, I felt like I had to include them because of their extreme Pearl-esque aesthetic alone. Blinding is massive. It shakes you to the core & drags you along, whenever you want it or not. Its heavy percussion & lyrics, the REALIZATION hit you like a truck; I have always associated this song with the moment Pearl realizes who she is. May it be before the war or after "Now We Are Only Falling Apart". It has a revolutionary feeling to it: she wakes up from her Homeworld induced trance & breaks her conditioning, she wakes up from her lethargy & takes a stand for herself. It works either way, really. 

05. The Fantasy - 30 Seconds to Mars Do you live, do you die, do you bleed for the fantasy? In your mind, through your eyes, do you see? It's the fantasy Maybe, tonight we can forget about it all: it could be, just, like heaven. I am a machine: no longer living, just a shell of what I dreamed.

I needed a renegade song; something fast & aggressive; this one had the perfect vibe. The Fantasy it is loud, emotional, gritty & chaotic; it’s fast-paced, it’s desperate. It opposes all Past Pearl is supposed to stand for. It builds up, it swells, grows more & more apoplectic over time. -- “Dying for the fantasy” is another big motif on this blog; in fact, her dream / fantasy controls most of her early life to the point where it becomes an obsession. -- this song embodies the very compulsive drive she had, once. Reaching for a Golden Future that eventually turns out to be “just a shell of what she dreamt”; the fairytale that almost cost her her life in the end.

06. Honourable Mentions songs I need to list somewhere or I will burst.

Running Up that Hill - Kate Bush, Eight & Three - Sleeping At Last, Falling Infinite & Strangelove - Black Math, Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish, Send in the Clowns - Barbra Streisand, Bird Set Free - Sia, God is a Woman (cover) & Infections of a Different Kind - Aurora, Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benata,  Beautiful Lie - 30 Seconds to Mars, Love Lockdown (Cover) & Pork Soda - Glass Animals,  One Match & Romeo - Until the Ribbon Breaks, Over the Love & Hardest of Hearts - Florence & the Machine, Beautiful Crime - Tamer, Truth Is a Beautiful Thing - London Grammar, Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin, Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys, Far too Young to Die - Panic!At the Disco, Cut the Cord - Shinedown, The War - SYML  & Reborn - Talos.

#[[ This took me years istg #I kept changing the songs around like a madwoman because I wanted to pinpoint a specific part of my portrayal? #Does that make sense? #I tried to pick songs I haven't rambled about yet. If I had the time I would fill twenty more meme templates of this kind ngl #hence why I attached the Honourable Mentions section. I just had to. Probably forgot half of my playlist BUT WELL ]] #vii. 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗲��𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲.

[aemperatrix]

Keats Is Coughing

by Marianne Boruch

Everything is made of everything. — Leonardo da Vinci

I found Rome in the woods.

Fair to admit it’s mostly tundra to the west in the park, past Toklat the Denali I revised, low grasslands engineered to freeze deep by October — this being Alaska — the great

           Tabularium close to the Temple of            Castor and Pollux I rebuilt that same summer —             not superimposed, exact as any scheme

in secret — the Arch of Septimius Severus at the gravel bar        where fox drank from a river turned stream,           a Theater of Marcellus near               the ranger station where one raven,                                                                                    such a brat,   complained of                      my Circus Maximus, Trajan’s Column,                              my Baths of Diocletian, too many spots soaked in unpronounceable Latin.

                   I really did, I shouldered bits of it,      a ruin-hushed haunted business, my brain                                                         a truck bed, a lift, pulleys big as a whale’s heart, expletives of cheap wonder all over                                                                  my woodlot and expanse.                          One self-anoints to embellish day, years, life thus far, and think oneself so...    

                      Then busted — 

by a raven!

Well, that’s memory for you, that’s so-called        civilization for you, to layer up,                         to redo the already done.

I mean it’s a fact, the puny life span we’re allotted.              And proof — Denali in August, fireweed, spunky scrawny first Latinate — Erechtites hieracifolia — 

              giving off flowers to mark               what weeks left, little               time bomber, time traveler, ancient               slips red-flagging the countdown to winter               by climbing its own stalk.

Something perverse about that. Something perfectly fiendishly self-conscious about that.

•

From the start perverse, any premise.      Ask...We can’t know. To be compelled

           makes an occasion. Rome’s grand     past horrific, fire and ash, swamp into bog, lust              and bloodlust — 

The Alaska Range dreams lurid as Rome,                                        the worst way below being fire, summer snow at night      off the highest peaks by noon              as distant from our cabin as the size of a hand if I                         held up the one with                         an eye in the middle

to know how this works. Some have the power to raise from the dead a before, before scary and beautiful           back to mystery cults, in caves, rubble far under a Roman street, the altar to Mithras still slaying his bull, crumbling the stonework.

            All things being equal. But they’re not.                    Agony, it’s older.                      Ask the moose at Denali,                         the snowshoe hare, the lynx,

such a wily courtly lot.                                           Ask Ovid      banished to his hovel on the Black Sea, aching                for Rome’s exalted rude cacophony, each      exiled month a big thick X down

                                  Februarius,                                 Aprilis to home-shattered sick enough

for an undersong. Look it up! Undersong: a strain; a droning; the burden of a song —                                              Maybe that lowest common denominator is contagious. Rome or Denali, a mash-up of lunge and cry out, predator and prey throwing coins to a fountain, footholds made first by a hoof, pickpockets at buses and trains, nuns queuing up their no-nonsense, thorny brambles, raggedy spruce groves,                                           a look, a nod to sell loveless love on the street, a chain of mountains in choral repeat, saints stained to glass, how ice gouged rivers from rock-bound,                                 the one-lung rapturous common-sense Pope all outstretched arms, his little popemobile circling the thrilled at St. Peter’s up on our rickety chairs to see in six, seven languages how radiant —                             Cross my heart, he was. And Keats, Keats is coughing.

•

You find the fossil record everywhere. In woods, tundra, under streets, in cadaver labs.                                 Not those bright transparencies, wistful orderly page after page in biology, a lie, a kind of flip-book romance. It’s the one big mess of us in us, the generous extraordinary dead prove that, signing a paper, giving themselves away                                            to be cut, disembodied for the knowing it, sunk to their chemical depth in some afterlife, opened on a table by kids really,                                             belabored doctors-to-be, our shabby shared wilderness to untangle, bones   joints   arteries   valves,                                                         The Dissector in hand, weirdest how-to book on the planet. For Keats too, 1819, his scribbled roses and sunflowers in margins,                                                                  his training,                                                           his anatomy theatre, looking down and later: still London, then Rome (he who gets it,  body fails, second floor, beside the Spanish Steps).                                           Heart, not my heart anymore.                                     Forgive me. I’m worse than the hopelessly confused misnamed English sparrow, descendant of the great weaver birds of Africa, a finch that lost the gene

      for nest, how to beneath, to across so intricate, precise, bringing bringing sticks and hair and bits of shiny paper. Undersong: the burden of a song.                                                       Poor bird. Poor sweet muddled middle of it. I watched morning after morning, his offering...                                                                           It’s Keats who made claims about beauty and time. His bed at the last                        too low for the window, his must-have                                 tell me, what’s out there — 

I admit: a ridiculous layering, Rome in Denali. Just because? Because I went to both in short order? Two continents, an ocean apart. My mother loved hand-me-down expressions — never the twain shall meet. They do meet.                           To repeat: that’s civilization for you. Happenstance and right now drag along future and past                             and why the hell not the Denali, the Rome in any of us, no two states of being more unalike, worn-out compulsion to collect and harbor, piece together,                                                                    stupid into some remember machine.

  Such fabulous unthinkable inventions we’ve made to merge or unmake: the trash compactor,   the poem, all tragedy and story, pencils sharpened to

a point that keeps breaking, wilderness gone inward as

                  an ocean-going ship’s container,                         a Gatling gun,                                 the AR-15 of the seething deranged,                                         the H-bomb,                                             Roman legions to Canterbury to blood-up fields into legend then dig the first plumbing but

                                            how can you                                             be in two places at once                                             when you’re not anywhere at all!

       (Thank you, Firesign Theatre, brilliant wackos,              old vinyl on a turntable still in the game... )

                     Fine. Fuck it. Start over.

•

See the sheep on high ledges, the arctic squirrels below.

See the way Dante saw, sweeping his arm across Vasari’s great painting as Boccaccio looks off, the plague sealing city after city. Dante

in hell, steady-luminous     those fact-finding trips to service           his worldly Inferno.

Winter sleeps through. August at Denali, bears shovel it down       a razor-edged maw —                                                 twigs! berries! more stems! —  Fate hoards to prepare, sub-zeros, fattens into...   

See the park’s camper bus, 92 miles how most of us jolt and slow, crossing hours more daylight than night all summer, rattling tin can with its exhaust and hissing gravel, the fear landslide                  an undersong just-possible, how we zigzag a mountain. Look!

                 Nearing a bear, the young caribou abruptly                             hesitant, shy as a leaf — 

No! Don’t! Do not! That grizzly huge, bent to his ploy just                                                 these berries around here, his ignore ignore, sure, quiet-tense as a trigger, and we of                      fogged scratched windows so hard to open — 

stop! The bus stopped. Jesus. The thing curious, closer...                          They’re not

that smart anyhow, a stage-whispering drunk from the back      of our imperial realm, mile 62, the Park Road.

What did Venus decree in her temple up whichever narrow street in Rome, the Ancients’                             stink of slops, standing water,           a bear chained to a slave (out of slav, by the way,                             backdrop is horde, human spoils)

both shackled to a grindstone for                                                             a later mob and roar.

Here’s what we saw: the little caribou  in reverse wanders sideways and safe.                                             Our bus one big sigh or like a wheezing asthmatic the brakes unbrake.

Bad dream, bad dream, the undersong start to all fable if                        for real we’d seen that kill back to lions off their continent cornered, bloodied in the great amphitheaters, rearing up, a nail to hammer’s                                   bite and blow. The wilderness in us

is endless. Near the cabin, near evening, a warbler                               in the fireweed                                                    hawk saw or heard,                          his switchblade clicked to —                                                                         I was and I was                      whirling feathers, either bird —    Every hunger                            is first century. Forever-thus   feral cats at the Forum about to leap too.                                                        The Forum, last homage   I shoveled holes and rocks to   remake, mile 82, while the haymouse riddled the meadow   down deep, her catacombs.

•

Time + beauty = ruins. Perfect shapes in the mind       meet my friends Pointless and Threat and Years of       Failure to Meld or Put to Rest. Ruthless                                                                                 is human.

I ask a composer: How to live with this undersong thing                             over and over, how to

                                                                   get rid of it,                                                                        the world of it — 

 He looks at me. What undersong thing? And shrugs       I’ll put it on the test! Let students define it.

     So I dreamt such a test: Go there. To Rome.                    Half-doze against a wall                      two thousand years of

    flesh    sweat    insect wing ago, stone laid by hand, by a boy when a whip, a whip, a welling up, his will not speak.

   Have at it. Please explain. Please fill in this blank.

Grief punctures like ice, moves like a glacier   to flat and slog and myth, low blue and white flowers       we hiked trail-less. The rangers insist. They insist — 

      never follow or lead, never lay down a path.

                                                                       From above the look of us spread out, our seven or eight a band, little stray exhausted figures                                           as over the land bridge from Asia,

circa: prehistory keeps coming, older than Rome, both   both underfoot, understory, underway

        miles below numb, it’s burning.

•

To see at all, you time                                         and this time and time again.

The spirit leans intrigued, the other part bored, then there’s want,                                                                    then there’s wait.

Once a city began with a wolf whose two human pups would      build, would watch it fall, nursing                                              at her milk for centuries               in marble               in bronze.

         She stands there and cries of                                                               that pleasure, by turns a blood-chill. The tundra. At night.

A snake eats its own tail, forever at it on a fresco. A real snake                       leaves his skin near the gravel bar. Some words sting, some are sung. Another life isn’t smaller.

#marianne boruch #poetry #keats is coughing #poem #cuvinte potrivite #i need to lie down. i. i— #long post

[qttnmrk]

“The light range was so narrow if you exposed film for a white kid, the black kid sitting next to him would be rendered invisible except for the whites of his eyes and teeth. It was only when Kodak’s two biggest clients—the confectionary and furniture industries— complained that dark chocolate and dark furniture were losing out that it came up with a solution.” —Broomberg and Chanarin “When a contradiction is impossible to resolve except by a lie, then we know it is really a door.” —Simone Weil I keep referring to the cold, as if that were the point. Fact. Not point. Forty-below was a good day. “In short, fine weather,” you wrote once, before cutting out blocks of ice and fashioning another igloo for the whole crew each night. But it isn’t the point, that it was cold, is it? How many days before arriving did you sit on the deck in that chair, staring out to sea, wearing a coarse blue shirt, the lost, well-mannered rhetoric of your day spiraling beneath a blue hat—concertina (at your ankle) outside the placid frame? Thank you, whoever you are, for standing behind the camera and thinking “Matthew Henson” and “photograph” at the same time. * The unanticipated shock: so much believed to be white is actually—strikingly—blue. Endless blueness. White is blue. An ocean wave freezes in place. Blue. Whole glaciers, large as Ohio, floating masses of static water. All of them pale frosted azuls. It makes me wonder—yet again—was there ever such a thing as whiteness? I am beginning to grow suspicious. An open window. I am blue. I am a frozen blue ocean. I am a wave struck cold in midair. The wave is nude beneath her blue dress. Her skin is blue. * To arrive in a place. And this place in which you have arrived finally: a place you have always dreamt of arriving. Perhaps you have tried—for eighteen years—to get there, dreaming of landscapes, people, food. Always repulsed by your effort, unable to attain the trophy. And then finally somehow you arrive one day and are immediately stunned because you realize more than anything, it isn’t the landscape, food, the people. That thing which most astonishes you is the light, the way the air appears, how the sunlight hovers just before your eyes. And you—then—wanting nothing more than to spend the day indoors watching the room. The vast ocean always nothing more than an open window. So you stay inside and choose to watch the same wall turn fifty reds, then later: slow, countless variations of blue. Blues you have never seen. There is a black beam overhead on the ceiling. Without it, the ability to see such light would disappear. The light is toying with you, and you like it. All of this because the darkness is now always overhead. That. That is what arriving means. * I want to say the same thing in a variety of different ways. Or I want to say many different things, but merely one way. Perhaps there is only one word after all. Beneath all languages, beneath all other words: only one. Perhaps whenever we speak we are repeating it. All day long, the same single word over and over again. * Choose something dark. Choose a dark line to hang above you. If you want to see what light can do, always choose the dark. * Out on the ice, the light can blind you. The annals laced with men who set out without the protection of darkness. All finished blind. Blackbirds, black bowhead whales, the raven, the night sky, the body inside, blue ink, pencil lead, chocolate, marzipan. Like us. All water is color. But what does that have to do with you and me, Matthew? * Maybe life is just this: walking with each other from one dark room to another. And looking. Sometimes the paintings come to life. Sometimes you just love the word pewter. Sometimes the ocean waves at you. Sometimes there are goldfish in a jar. A bowl of oranges. Sometimes a woman steps down out of a frame and walks toward you. Sometimes she discards the white scarf, which covers her, and reveals her real body. Sometimes she leaves, moments later, covered in a striped jacket and leather hat. Our lady of the dressing table. Our lady of the rainy day. Our lady of palm leaves, periwinkle, calla lilies. Our lady of acanthus. A garden redone three times. * Sometimes someone you love just falls through. Gone. The blue massive ridges of pressure shift, float away, move. Sometimes the ice breaks open. That’s it. Sledge, dogs and all. * I fell through once. I’d grown cold, so I stood up and walked to get my coat. I was told it was hanging on the far wall of a very dark room. Because it was dark, I could see, really see—for the first time—how a particular gold thread sparkled on the collar. I reached out my hand. But before the wall, there was a large hole where stairs were being built, which I could not see. I walked into air and landed on my head. Underground. Everything then turned a vivid black. * I wonder, Matthew, when you were out on the ice for years, trying very hard not to fall through, I wonder whether—like me—you ever thought of the same woman over and over again, whether you ever imagined her draped in a loose-fitting emerald robe, seated in a pink velvet chair, engulfed by a black so bright it was luminous? I do. Sometimes I lie here in bed before the fire, unable to move—this cane, this hideous cane, this glorious cane, cutting cane—and imagine that one particular curl falling forward toward her forehead. I imagine the same curl at this angle, then that. A recurring dream. When my bed becomes a vast field of frozen ice the color of indigo, and I cannot move, I begin to see her face. Each strand of her hair becomes a radiant small flame, twisting and burning so quietly. Then I look at your picture, you out on the ice, and I wonder if you ever feel like that, Matthew? Like a woman, faceless and flung over a desk, at rest or in tears, exquisite quickly drawn ruffles about your shoulder, halos of wide banana leaves hovering just above your head? Were there images you could not fling from your mind? Events that clung to you, coated you, repeating themselves in a series: movements or instruments in a symphony? Objects that would not let you go: an avocado tree; a certain street at night where someone exceptionally kind once took your arm as the two of you walked along a wet sidewalk; trying to remember the light on that certain gait: your mother twirling a parasol, also walking through a grove of olive trees? Did you begin to find comfort in the serial, the inexplicable and constant reappearance of things, people, sensations, every moment symphonically realized and reentered. The way the days begin to rhyme. Every moment walking into the room again. Sledge after sledge. Matthew? * I fell through, into a hole in the floor. I landed far below, on my head. Sometimes I still forget my name. Sometimes I forget yours. Sometimes I forget how to spell the. Regularly I am unable to remember Adam Clayton Powell. Or how to conjugate exist. Sometimes I lie in bed and cannot feel my legs. It’s like something quietly gnawed them off while I was in the kitchen making tea. From the knees down: this odd sensation, not nothing, but something, just not legs. If ice were not cold perhaps. Or the memory of a leg. I cannot feel my legs, but I can feel their memory. In conversation, my face goes numb. It starts at my mouth and spreads out. When I am quiet it recedes. Why is numbness ascribed the color blue? It’s not. It’s red. By the end of the day, my left hand has disappeared from the end of my arm. I ignore it. Hold my pen. Smile at you. What year is it, darling? I once lived where? With whom? Where is she now? What was her name? * I remember nurses. Their faces. Someone very, very kind—a woman—began to tape a pen inside my hand. I remember being suspended in a harness. Being lowered down into a warm blue pool. All the other patients there were very old. Here is how we all learned to walk properly again. Underwater. Blue. Once I fell through—into the dark. * Braces and casts. Being told not to write. Being told not to read. Forgetting someone I once promised I would never forget. Remembering her finally, one year, then forgetting her again, the next day. Remembering not remembering I’d forgotten. Forgetting them completely. * When I look at photographs of Matisse, unable to walk, drawing on the wall from the bed, his charcoal tied to the end of a very long pole, I stop breathing. Him, I think. Yes. I could marry him. I could slip into his bed. We could talk about real things. I could be his dark line hovering above. We could watch the light turning the room every color.

Robin Coste Lewis, “Using Black to Paint Light: Walking Through a Matisse Exhibit Thinking about the Arctic and Matthew Henson”