#of the VERY long word list

[lemonlovemeanslove]

why is there no english world for prasslar, rustle does not hit the same. like it just dosent. prasslar sounds like prassel. saying it sounds like prassel. smh

#this reminds me #of the VERY long word list #i have to start working on #of words that i think fit perfet #i have SO many words #sigh #i hope ill be able to remember them all

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

#this got. so long. sowwy #but I thought about this ummmm Sunday night #but I was DRAINED from writing 7k words of scorned past midnight and then having to edit it skdjfkf #so I was like. okay. put this idea in the drafts. NOW ms dory memory #anddddd I love this so very much #would’ve loved to turn this into a full fic #but it’s so exhausting trying to write long fics recently bc of this multichap #I’m just not used to it and I can’t do two things at the same time #and I already have like 9 fics on my list to write!!!! lol #but there is something so alluring about film major bkg 2 me #I think hes awkward and comes off as mean but he really is just that serious about his work #but he’s #also a creep for you LOL #definitely think he agrees to become ur muse for art as like a trade off #and you get that boy into SO many humiliating positions 😵‍💫 #I need. to lie down. anyway. #I wrote this at 1am and was scared to post it then cause I didn’t think anyone would see it #so here it is in the morning :) #bakugou treats! 🍬 #—new treat in the streets! 🍫

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

#💟 #Fanfiction #Blank Slate AU #Edgar #Scriabin #Todd #Shmee #He's technically in there but once again no speaking lines :P Yet anyway lol #It's fanfic time again! I fell into yet another writing fugue and finished Chapters 1 and 2 in like four days lol #If you'll notice tho ♪ Neither of those chapters are featured under the cut :3c Pls do read Ch. 1 at least to get caught up before diving in #This one took a bit longer but that'd be because it's Almost as big as both previous chapters combined lol #I'll update it to the chapter list in a few days! Y'all get a preview here :D It'll be the same there with slightly different formatting #Decided to try something new since tumblr doesn't normally allow underlines but it's very important to Scriabin's syntax #I promise they're all just links to the first chapter lol - you're welcome to check but I promise I didn't put a sneaky link anywhere lol #My one gripe is that it doesn't look as good on-blog :/ Fine on the dash! But I'm not willing to sacrifice the dark colouration on the links #Italics were chosen as the only light feature for a reason ♪ #I mean at least it's not Bolded lol I'll take it #These were a lot of fun to write so far ahhh <3 I've been wanting to dig a little deeper for a long while now! #I mentioned this idea offhandedly in the tags of Incoming Outgoing but ahhh it's very rewarding to put to words :D #Fun Fun Fun

[danikatze]

[ID in alt text]

I made a more or less random Inktober prompt list for myself, because I wanted to start preparing early. Feel free to use it if you like it!

#Inktober #Inktober2023 #inktober 2023 #more or less random in the sense that I got a long list from somewhere and made it shorter with a random number generator #And there were a few I didn't like so I rolled a couple more times lol. #I just want it to be as fun as possible for myself and part of that is challenging myself #but not so much that I have to break my brain trying to figure out what to do with words that I don't feel inspired by. #Also I want some very easy ones hehe - I've got a busy time ahead. #I have a plan for each day and sketches for 10 of them so yeahh I have a nice head start #inktober prompts #inktober prompt list #prompt list #drawing challenge

[queer-reader-07]

something about finding the people who sit through your info dumps with joy on their face and enthusiasm for your passions. something about finding the people who info dump right back at you because they know you love hearing about their passions. something about finding the people who manage to sum up your being in one niche, oddly specific sentence that lives in your mind rent free for the rest of time. something about finding the people who not only accept you for who you are but embrace you for who you are. who not only tolerate your quirks and differences but love and cherish them.

#i’m in my feels today if you couldn’t tell #just thinking about one friend in particular who i don’t get to see in person nearly enough but i text all the time #idk it’s the little things #the way we send each other videos of ourselves explaining whatever we’re learning about right now #the way we don’t write it in a long message because the emotion and vibes don’t translate properly #the way he’s told me that the way i dress is so gender nonconforming in his eyes #how even though i’m afab and i wear glittery makeup and crop tops and have pink hair #i still look so queer and so gnc and so Not Girl in his eyes #how that felt so validating #how i could feel the genuine love in his words #how he told me once that i’m ‘not a person with lore but rather a person with a schtick’ #and how he explained to me what my schtick was and how accurate it was #how he told me he can’t wait for me to get my degree(s) and be an openly queer person in stem #how he can’t wait for me to defend my thesis sometime in the future and be wearing the brightest makeup and the biggest earrings #and the tallest boots #how he loves that i go to my chem lab every week with glitter on my eyes #how it’s cool that i don’t care if i stick out like a sore thumb because i’m me #i remember how he dropped the she/her pronouns immediately upon ne saying i didn’t really vibe with them #(even when they were still technically on my list of ‘ok to use pronouns’) #how his boyfriend who i don’t know very well has always they/them-ed me because my friend does #and if my friend is doing it then it must be the right thing #idk i just love my friends #and this friend in particular is someone i’ve gotten really close with over the past 6 months or so #and i’m so glad to have him in my life #platonic love #friendship #tell your friends you love them

[alagaisia]

I love when I read a book *after* seeing an adaptation and it gives me a new appreciation for the adaptation. Season one of The Expanse follows the plot and major scenes of Leviathan Wakes remarkably closely, and the characters are exactly the same. I’m replaying scenes from the show in my mind. Conversations that weren’t in the show still read in the actors’ voices. I swear I recognized some dialogue. And the changes I did notice (such as where Miller finds Julie Mao in the end, and how the dead man’s switch comes in) made complete sense in smoothing over the transition from page to screen. Fuck Amazon and all that, but the writers and showrunnners of that show should be lauded for their attention and dedication to the source material.

I’m interested to see how that holds up in the rest of the series. I know that the actor playing Alex Kamal left the show for reasons unrelated to the character’s original arc, and I think I know that the books go on longer than the show, so I have a feeling eventually the two will split, but I’m hoping to meet a few more favorite characters before that happens :)

(other books I've read this year)

#mine #personal #the expanse #leviathan wakes #my book log #<<<I said in another post I would make a point of talking about books I read on here #needed a tag for that. might change if I think of something better lol #I put holds on the next two in the series at the library #it’s probably too much to hope that the next one is on hand at my branch and will be ready for pickup Saturday morning before work #but I’m crossing my fingers for it #I’m gonna be honest I understand less of the belter dialect than I was hoping for #in the show it had a lot of what probably was French creole? #and I took French for a long time so I could sometimes recognize sort of the root of enough words to pick it out #which was very fun for me #but there’s more going on in the book. more languages mixed in and also idioms and stuff #and also less of it spoken that we see so fewer chances for me to happen to decide something #and I’m not actually very good at languages lol so it’s not like I’m going to pick it up #but it’s fun to pretend #2023 reading list

[coquelicoq]

i completely solved a cryptic crossword for the first time the other day! this is huge for me because i've always been so annoyed by them lol. but i kinda get it now, it is very satisfying to figure them out.

that said, there are several answers where i still do not totally understand the clues. if anyone who is familiar with cryptics (sometimes just called "crosswords" outside of the US) wants to help me out, i'd be very interested to hear your take!

this cryptic was in the 2022 puzzle mania edition of the nyt (released at the very end of the year), so if you are planning to solve it and haven't yet, i guess don't read this? lol. since i waited five months to do it i feel like that will apply to no one, but just in case.

i realized after drafting this post that the answer key is available online (here), but it did not actually answer my questions in every case, so i've kept my original text but added the answer key answer after each one in case it makes more sense to you than it does to me.

13A. Has misgivings about deception to an auditor (4): RUES. so "has misgivings about" is the definition of "rues". but i don't know what "deception to an auditor" is doing. could it have something to do with the fact that "rues" is a homonym and anagram of "ruse", a kind of deception? but i still can't figure out what "to an auditor" is for.

the answer key gives "homophone ruse" for this, so i guess i was right about the deception part, but i still don't get the auditor thing.

14A. A con almost grabs actor's awards left unbalanced (10): ASYMMETRIC. so EMMYS is hidden backwards in "asymmetric", which takes care of "actor's awards" and "left", and "asymmetric" means "unbalanced", i guess. so that leaves "A con almost grabs", along with the A and TRIC of the answer. i can't figure out how to make those relate to each other.

answer key says "a(symmE)trick – k (rev. Emmys)". fuck does that mean?? why are we subtracting the k? and i'm still not really sure what the con is there for?

26A. Concentrate for spare and strike (5): THINK. "concentrate" is the definition of "think". what is the "for spare and strike" doing??

answer key: "thin + K". okay i see how thin = spare but wherefore this K? does K stand for strike in baseball? that sounds vaguely familiar...

28A. African country returned Los Angeles family inheritance (7): SENEGAL. senegal is an african country, and it's also an anagram of angeles. i'm guessing the "returned" is a clue for the anagram? but what is "family inheritance" for? oh wait, senegal backwards is LA genes!! but then is it just a coincidence that "angeles" anagrams to "senegal", or is that indicated in the clue somewhere???

answer key: "rev. L.A. + genes". okay so it does sound like angeles being an anagram of senegal is a coincidence, or at least not covered in the clue?? seems like a missed opportunity but what do i know.

5D. Largely moderate Arizona city (5): TEMPE. tempe is a city in arizona. what's "largely moderate" doing here?

answer key: "temper – r". am i to understand that this is saying moderate = temper and the "largely" part of the clue is telling me to keep most but not all of "temper"?

#the big-ass american crossword was not that interesting i'm sorry to say. the actual solving was too easy and the logistics were #very annoying. it was so huge (four newspaper pages & almost 800 answers) i had to do it on the floor #which was uncomfortable #and looking up each clue in the list took so long because there were so many #i was interested to see how long it would take so i timed myself and it took me 2h04 (though it felt like it took 10 hours #based on how sore my neck and back and legs were lol) #and i could have finished in under 2 hours but i didn't realize that i didn't have to do anything special with the super mega words #in order to solve the crossword. like i figured out what the words were but putting them together according to the instructions #is only necessary for solving the metapuzzle and so could be done separately. so i wasted a few minutes trying to do that #the other puzzles were p cool except the word search bugged me for reasons that were mostly the fault of my own poor planning #but psy is a one-named singer!! so technically there were 8 one-named singers not 7!!! #i actually haven't solved the metapuzzle final answer yet #i have all but one of the letters but then they have to be put in order and i have no ideas for what the order is supposed to be #cruciverbs #my posts #but anyway very exciting that i solved a cryptic for the first time! maybe now i can get past my mental block about them

[tacticianlyra]

First of all, I know next to nothing about the big servers due to the fact that my brief time existing in the main server for more than news was PROFOUNDLY negative, and that's discouraged me from trying to join more, but my overall opinion of the shippingcontainer is now "Ew"

Sucks that who's pretty much the face of the cherrybomb ship is involved in a bad way, because that's probably going to taint that ship for a lot of people after this.

Second of all - the fact that someone was legitimately hurt by all of this means this has to be taken seriously. Unfortunately, the masses of Tumblr are incapable of doing that, in favor of blind rage and death-threat-sending.

Yeah, I don't think the RW community is going to survive this.

#Rain World #I am autistic and very bad with words and also in the aftermath of a long and tiring day at work #and frankly just. Very. VERY tired of humanity in general rn #I think I'm also going to be pruning the list of who I follow for a while #because I'm not directly involved with it and seeing it constantly is just going to stress me the fuck out

[allieinarden]

I pride myself on having hit the most niche Simpsons gripe of all time which is being the sole “Barthood” hater.

#The episode based on the movie Boyhood #“Hate” is a strong word. I love what they were trying to do with it (10 stars for character design) and it had some nice moments and ideas #However long (very long) story short I feel like the real audience for Barthood is people who are peripherally aware of the show #It leverages the power of the characters as pop cultural symbols to tell a more universal story about growing up not necessarily about Bart #So it’s like an interesting 22-minute short film I just don’t think it’s a good episode of The Simpsons #The Simpsons #Anyway I keep seeing this episode on every top 10 modern episode list and I’m like somebody tell them to watch Bartless instead 🙏

[orcelito]

Any trigun fics you do recommend/enjoyed?

oh Positivity, yes. uuuhhhh im kind of bad at bookmarking things ngl but i will share A Few. all vashwood bc that's my shit & all

i feel like everyone knows about Figure Me Out but it was one of the first fics i read in this fandom & honestly tangentially inspiration for writing Sentido (that whole tangible inhumanity kind of idea). i should reread it sometime. im very behind on the sequel but im thinking about working on reading it so i can have smth that has good characterization. genuinely some of the best vash characterization ive seen. Sooooooooooo good

theres kinder, gentler WHICH i actually was absolutely ABSOLUTELY obsessed with a giant haikyuu fic this person wrote back in the day, so seeing them get into trigun was an Absolute gift for me. one of the best trigun longfic there are imo with fun characterizations & WONDERFUL writing. one of my favorite instances of Knives Domestication too, aka he's still very thorny and does not like humans but he is Making An Effort (after centuries and centuries of work). this fic rly embodies the spirit of trigun to me tbh, if it was something... well... kinder and gentler. very silly and very sad at times, but also hopeful. what a fic <3

i was very very very obsessed with Trillium and Ivy. read the entire thing in one day. & honestly shoutout to them for writing such a long fic back b4 the trigun renaissance. Dedication. it's been a bit since ive read it but i remember really enjoying how they wrote Vash's disability in a modern setting. not just handwaving away the prosthetic as some super high-tech thing. and also addressing the utter horror that his recovery from such a serious accident wouldve been. honestly i might reread it sometime, ive forgotten a lot of it and it was SO fucking good. genuinely i was obsessed. highly recommend it.

uhmmmmmmmmmmm the other trigun fics i have bookmarked are smut fics lksdjflsdkfj but i'll share them anyways bc if it's in my bookmarks that means they HIT me enough i wanted to save it for later. and thus they are the kinds of smut fics that have U contemplating life and love and ur very existence

i’m here in search of your glory (there’s been a million before me) (what a long title) uh this one. well this one broke me. first half is just pain pain pain pain and then u get ur happiness and Relief and joy and. well. ya kno lmao. this fic rly did hit me so hard tho. i enjoyed it a lot

a kind heart to haunt rancher (& ex outlaw) vash and cowboy wolfwood. western au, very well done. i read this one all in one morning and felt shrimp feelings (in a good way). and the smut is. Also good. LOVE AND LONGING AND uh. good smut. what more is there to ask for

just a holy fool now i'll admit it's been over 4 months since ive read this so i dont remember a lot. but since it's in my bookmarks that means it Hit me. i remember it being the perfect kind of vashwood longing tho So if ur looking for smut with feelings. this one's Pretty Great

#anonymous #ask #looking thru the vw fics by wordcount to see if there r any others id recommend but. shrug #ive more commonly sorted by word count for this pairing just bc i like. longfic lol #apparently ITNL is on the first page for word count. just barely but it's there. #74k doesnt feel that long but i guess it kinda is huh #anyways yea ive read a lot more fics than these but. it's a starter list i guess? #take the fact that i dont do bookmarks often & i bookmarked these to be proof enough #i have. some other fics ive bookmarked. but those r mostly for being Smut Geared To Me than being emotionally fulfilling #and thus. im a little more embarrassed to share them openly slkdfjslkdjf #but here take These smut fics. and 3 very good longfic. i feel like this is a good enough starter list.

[cynicalmusings]

concert pianist!xiao is currently on the brain…

#i simply cannot emphasise how much he strikes me as a musical person #especially in a modern au #unfortunately he probably had a very strict/ harsh upbringing (parallels the cruel god) in which he was forced to practice insane tons a da #and that’s why he became so talented a prodigy #like paganini! #anyway yeah that’s the vibe i get from him #i could turn this into a long fic methinks #~10k+ words maybe #of course i’d need to differentiate it substantially from ‘that one time debussy got you a date’ but i think i can manage #who’d the reader be in this? #a singer? but i don’t know much about singing and i’d prefer to stick to instruments i know for accuracy reasons… #(i say while writing about the flute and harp and pipa but shhh i promise i did research for those okay) #maybe some stringed instrument #or maybe they wouldn’t even be a musician #although i do like characters bonding over music a lot (as is evident throughout… practically half of my xiao writing) #OOH. how about childhood friends to lovers? #xiao from the really limiting and strict household while reader lives next door and is much more relaxed than him #mealsothinks this could be quite fun #okay time to put this on the waiting list #concert pianist with trauma. childhood friends to lovers. let’s go. #r’s random thoughts

[bleachbleachbleach]

Being really far gone for Bleach is such a good coping mechanism. I say this so genuinely, ahahaha; I love a good Bleach LARP. Because it lets you get mail from your insurance agency that’s like “blah blah blah X changed and your rates are going to go up unless you DON’T want this liability coverage that is completely irrelevant to your situation, in which case please send us [form with an 8-word long title that is not enclosed, and with no send destination listed] within 15 days.” And you can look at the date of the letter and think, ah, 15 days from then. I see. So TOMORROW?

But it’s all good because mentally you’re like, ah, mail from Soul Society. In character. As usual. Acceptable!

#i have located the 8-word long title form #which i'll note *also* does not list where it should be sent #at least government forms often do! #and sent a very pleasant email to the lady who sent me the original insurance binder #if she doesn't reply by tomorrow this state is sorely mistaken if they think i will not call someone and drive this form to their door #i will bleach larp my way straight into their office #no brain just bleach

[veone]

Thinking about sid and her idle moments, I wonder what she’s thinking when she’s listening to music laying in the sun in her bed on a afternoon or sitting at the bus stop watching the rain hit the pavement. Where does her mind wonder the most?

#it’s interesting for me to think about her thoughts I don’t write them out often because their not very coherent her train of thought is #very overlapping and she’s thinking about so much all the time her minds racing I know she’s tired #hmm that’ll be fun to represent one day! #vs with nick I think his train of thought is very rambling and long winded he explaining away his emotions about something or getting di #distracted with something and it cuts off vs sid thoughts being overlapping she’s thinking about so much a lot of self affirmation and #noticing little movement in people she’s hyper focused on people responses to her and noticing they way move from a far and running over #conversation in her head thinking of what certain words ment etc #and like her to do list of things she gotta do like finish up that shipment reply to some comments etc

[vamptastic]

i think when i read the picture of dorian grey i got way too into trying to understand and form a defensible argument for the philosophy in it because i was very much in my debate team reads the stanford encyclopedia of psychology for fun phase. i mean obviously hedonism is an interesting ideology and the book does talk about it a lot, but i think the prime appeal of the book and why it's a classic is not the philosophy whatsoever it's definitely the drama and the art discussion, and i was so caught up on keeping notes on hedonism that i kind of neglected to pay attention to the characters in the literal and not subtextual sense until the tail end of the novel.

#that being said i am not rereading it lmao #the writing style is very vivid and pretty and kind of... lush is the word i think #but it's also hard as fuck to get through especially because it also does that 1800s lit thing #where there's a few chapters of weird filler mostly describing various fancy things #that doesn't really connect to the rest of the text in the slightest at least not at that long length #when i started the count of monte cristo (need to finish that) the guy who recognized me reading it was like #yeah its a beautiful novel full of some fantastic drama & irony but there's a solid 200 pages of fancy object descriptions #and long lists of names and such #the one exception to this is probably Moby dick which i ALSO need to read in which the filler is very much intentional and necessary to read #it's just very interesting sometimes seeing the different ways that older novels can establish tone and lay out a plot #like the narrative structure is obviously going to be the same (exposition -> actions -> climax don't want to type all the terms out) #but dracula for example has three discinct tonal shifts while dorian grey does it slowly & subtly + uses a timeskip #not that modern novels don't do this lol but it's easier to discern and analyze because i'm not also interpreting older langauge #and weird Victorian publishing quirks like the shitty introduction (scarlet letter) and fancy object chapter

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 18

"Settle Down" by The 1975

#song of the day #maybe one of the days I've had the hardest time choosing a song #it might have been 'Royals' by Neon Jungle (Lorde cover) which I talked to Lily about earlier #(the other day when we spent all that time traveling that was almost 'Eight Legged Blues' by Vixy and Tony #I played it for my family in the car on hour three of our drive and it was a big big hit #but it did get very cleanly overtaken by the Diva's Lament after I spent so much time with it on the train) #the original Lorde version of Royals played on Lily's playlist on the first hour of that drive and I mentioned I had a good cover #real good harmonies and neat acoustics in the big room they recorded in #and then today I finally remembered to send the link to Lily so that might have been today's song #or today's song also could have been 'Ringleader' by The Madison Letter which I tried but failed to sing in the shower #(I definitely don't know all the words yet. I did get a good echo off my 'ring-ring-ring-ringleader / ringleader' though which was nice) #and it also could have been 'Salt and the Sea' by the Lumineers which was in my single-song-by-artist playlist accidentally #no artist listed on the track somehow. very strange especially since it is so clearly a Lumineers song. they got the sound you know #anyway Salt and the Sea has some killer lines. 'from the destruction / out of the flame / you need a villain? give me a name #I'll be your friend / in the daylight again / there we will be / like an old enemy / like the salt and the sea' #but instead today is 'Settle Down' which is unbelievably fun to sing just for the way some of the words are pronounced and delivered #hits my brain just right every time #I had to do surgery on some of my poor plants (I can never leave them for so long again) and it was awful but the playlist provides #truly a wealth of song options today

[lexalovesbooks]

Wait something weird appears to be happening in tags hang on. Testing.

#i’ve grown the world’s heaviest cucumber – it weighs 30lbs and is so big because of my secret formula #i bought a car on facebook marketplace but now i’ve been left £4 #i scooped $30million lotto jackpot but won’t stop playing – i’ve got long list of purchases i’m going to blow cash on #i’ve been kicked out of my home despite being promised it would be mine – now i’m facing massive bill after court battle #i shot to fame on my big fat gypsy wedding &amp; made £10k a time as page 3 girl – but i’ve quit it for a very normal job #apollonia llewellyn risks instagram ban flashing bum on bed as fans say ‘you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen’ #i bought an ev and regret it – i’ve lost so much money… the price of my motor is falling and no one wants to insure it #okay. test over. where the fuck are these tags coming from??? #i typed in ‘i’ve’ and all of these just. came up #it doesn’t appear to be happening with any other words that i’m testing. wtf #they look like they’re weird clickbaity article titles????