Is There Any Specific Artists You Listen To While Writing Your Muse?

is there any specific artists you listen to while writing your muse?

occasionally, some artists aren't as much as of shock in comparison to others. the only issue i ever have is trying to make him a playlist that i won't hate after a week. but nine inch nails and fiona apple always find their way into my writing mix, i've come to accept that he's coded in all the dirty, filthy things that are made by trent reznor and fiona. massive attack, ministry, jane's addiction, sinéad o'connor, björk, and kate bush are also common. also anything off of the erotica album by madonna works.

@sickfcks

BBC iPlayer released updated subtitles for IWTV S2.

we should do that again sometime.

“ get out. now. " he felt dirty, dirty like the day he was born. why? why would he do this to rhea? he felt disgusted in himself. the one time that she trusted him wholeheartedly, and he ruins it. he ruins it by getting drunk, ruins it by being here in bed .. with her. covers pulled to the side, rushing into the bathroom. panic induced, he felt worse than death. a throbbing headache and the lingering touch of hands scattered across his body that made him feel nauseous all over again. what kind of friend was he?

really, he needed to be more cautious with his choice of words. roman was a lot of words, many words that could fit such a man in both english and spanish dictionaries. but, at a certain timeframe .. he was rather cold, dismissive; however things have changed, the latino wasn't sure anymore. he didn't know how to manage this, too accustomed to being dismissed— to be thrown away. the realization that someone wanted him to stay, to linger and rest against the door frame was frightening. but to be denied was far worse, grimacing to himself as he pulled his hand away— as if he was too dirty to touch. he wasn't clean, he wasn't perfect enough for this— for him. “ they need me too, " is all he could possibly mumble out.

a sanctuary fitting for the two, groups that demanded couldn't bother them here. oddly enough, he felt safe here despise all thoughts saying otherwise. the samoan wasn't a good person and he accepted that, neither was he. they weren't good people, but they tried to be here. with each other, or at least the latino tried. roman was somehow worth trying for, a smile making it's way on his face as tattooed arms around themselves wrapping around in equal possession. “ nah, she ain't raise you right. so much attitude from the baby. " a grin that wasn't going away anytime soon, enjoying the attention too much. “ make me, huh? "

“ right. " there was a tight exhale, he wasn't sure how long he was holding his breath. sometimes he wonders if the australian confused him with someone else, seem to forget their history along the way as they attempt to navigate their newfound path. no more judgment day, no more mysterio lurking— no more balor. it was back to the start, priest and ripley. “ you care so much about someone who never cared about you. " cared so much about him that you forgot that i was here, i was always was here. but he ignored the way his throat tighten and his fist clenched at the thought. he wasn't bold enough today to kick her down, or ever it seems. it's borderline humiliating the way he tried to make her see reason, to see herself as someone who doesn't need him out of all people.