#and also im gonna sound so pretentious be ready

[swimmingleo]

cool albums i listened to in 2022 pt. ii and this time it's strictly 2022 albums

Another Life - Nadine Khouri

Moonage Daydream - Bowie/Morgen

Electric Cowboy: Born in Carolina Mud - Boulevards

Omnium Gatherum - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

Cowboy Ballads Pt. 1 - Jesse Tabish

all of us flames - Ezra Furman

Multitude - Stromae

Stup Forever - Stupeflip

Teatro Lucido - La Femme

#all of us flames is the one I'd beg you to listen #cuz it's genuinely. a piece #I think about its opening and ending tracks so often #it doesn't try to be this big political statement album ezra is expressing her grief and fears and convictions #in such a personal way. that still lets people in yk the kindred spirits #the music is great but her songwriting and story telling are so unique and amazing and ugh. #and also im gonna sound so pretentious be ready #but she doesn't deserve to be remembered for bein the sex education netflix soundtrack #when she wrote this album #that starts with the most poignant metaphore. and ends with another most poignant metaphore. #'and what do your rainbows do here on the ground?' jfc #cowboy Ballads is also a magnificent quarantine album #and to everyone who hasn't watched moonage daydream YET. treat yourself and happy new year

[formula-fun]

“Not a happy story”?????????

I was already really worried the last time you said the last chapter was going to be so full of angst. Now I’m just really really worried at the possible sequel.

Forgot to say hi first lol. Hi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Though I suppose overall for me who is a “life sucks so much already I’m not reading angst in my spare time”, rreereading your story so many times has sort of trained(?) me for it, because I kind of know that sitting through the pain only gave me such sweet intimacy later.

Or maybe we just have different understanding of angst? Because for me once they have established the foundation of trust that “no matter what happens we are going to be here for each other, for the championships, the pregnancies, the parenting, the long-distance relationship and the so sweet life together” , then is just growing into themselves, growing up, and growing stronger. Not to mention even if said foundation was not acknowledged out loud (yet?) they are still actually actively trying to baby trap each other hahahaha.

So I was just sort of doing rereads and calmly waiting for the next chapters, now you say the sequel(if it happens) is going to be not happy?????? They have a baby! That’s grounds for a happy story(in fiction) right???? Right??

Haha in truth I’m just ready for anything you decide really.

Hopefully your projects are coming along better, I studied finance and maths which were in no way as stressful as architecture, and I still jumped between “if they want my (tuition) money they would let me graduate right?” “What was I thinking picking this subject my brain is not built for this” and “just let me die” most of the time. Of course you would pull through!!!!!!

Xxxxxxoooooooxxxxxxooooo

Hahha helloooo!! i love that my askbox is known to be a place to say hi now dkdfjdfkjdjk dear random person somewhere in the world we are at the same stoplight and i am waving at you from my car <3 This got super long so ill put a cut line

Hmm so I think maybe angst was the wrong word then! its not gonna be a happy story in the sense that the plot wont be 'max and charles live happily ever after with a baby', theres still going to be some shit going on. Ur 100% right that there's always sweetness scattered in within that, it's not just angst for the sake of angst, and they'll at least be able to outright support each other in the sequel without like jumping through hoops to quantify what they are to each other or whatever. So in that sense maybe what i mean is more that it won't be a fun fairytale epilogue kind of vibe, there will still be stuff they need to figure out?

also this is going to sound so pretentious im so sorry but the first two fics are heavily heavily written around the idea of gender. if you cut max and charles out of the entire rest of it it's just a story about two equals who love each other and are trying to find a common language to communicate that, but once you add in gender roles and expectations and judgement it all becomes this huge fucking mess even though the core of it is something so simple. the sequel is probably going to be kind of similar, but more along the lines of defining what a family is to them outside of their own expectations or trauma. so ya sorry to summarize theres room for intimacy and happiness and love and all that but there's also a heaviness if that makes sense. Kinda like what we have now

they also have just basic issues honestly. newborns cant really fly so max cant travel with charles for a lot of the beginning of the season. charles wants to be home as much as he can but he's kinda torn between his family and his job. they miss each other! the baby misses her mom!! kinda screws with everyones head a little, especially max who grew up without a mother! they try their best but its just hard sometimes my friend

and thank youuuuu honestly that's where i'm at with school rn!! we had 3 more hours of presentations yesterday (had to do the project over the weekend) and literally as soon as the last group was done we got assigned 3 versions of a 5 floor apartment building which we have to present tomorrow? this on top of the essay due today, the other one due thursday and the third one due next tuesday??? me and my friends just looked at each other in silence and apparently we were all fantasizing about dropping out djfkdfkjdfj they're trying to weed out our class rn though and im sorry but if admin want me gone theyre going to have to kill me

anyway thank you so much my dear!!! im sorry this is one big long ramble but hopefully it answered your questions!!

#writing tag #if i had words #im sorry if this doesnt make sense i literaly JUST woke up

[dulceheist]

How much salt can ants handle / Victoria De angelis

Requested: no 

summary: as the night sets y/n finds herself suffering with anxiety. However, she gets a call from victoria who takes her on an adventure beautiful enough to ease her racing mind and a broken heart.

Pairing: Victoria De Angelis x reader (she/her, third person)

word count: 1.7k

content and warnings: angst, tw anxiety

In a dim light the room looked heavy. Like the walls might stumble and the sealing might fall. In a dim light of her bedroom, y/n felt her mind touch the rye needle. The art of taking things easy was something y/n had never learned. In her mind, she didn’t know where the world ended or who loved her. A lot of the time what she knew was only the crooked feeling of her own skin tightening around her like a rigid corset or her breathing getting stuck in her throat. And so t was that night too. 

She couldn’t tell what were the big things so she made the big out of them all. And the future full of big things made itself terrifying to a small human. Y/n got up from her bed. She had been trying to sleep thoughts away but what didn’t come as a surprise, head full of disasters was hard to sleep with. The cold floor felt piercing underneath her bare feet. Slowly she walked to the old sofa sitting in the back of  her living room. 

Sometimes she made a list in her head of all the bad things that could happen. And after that, if she was ever ready, she made a list of all the bad ways she could react to the bad things happening. A lot of the time it felt like the birds didn’t arrive at the glow of spring or like the sky never cleared. She knew most of her fears were irrational, stupid as someone would say. Still, everything stopped them from going away. She wished that maybe when she was older it’d get easier but more than that she feared they never would. 

Corset, that was her skin was. Then what sounded like a firework in the silence, her phone rang. She looked at her phone screen with her tired eyes. It was Victoria. A million bad things could have happened for her to call y/n at night, atleast that’s what y/n thought but as she answered the phone, she heard Victoria’s warming voice. 

"Hi," her voice was energetic like it wasn't midnight at all. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

Victoria knew y/n ralely slept at those hours. Many times they had been texting at two o'clock in night, wishing time would stop and night would last little longer. And y/n loved that about her, that like the sky was for mountains she was always there for her. Over the last year that she had known her she had grown feelings towards her she was too afraid to admit outload.

"Oh no, i was awake." Y/n muttered to the phone her voice still slightly shaking and she wished Victoria wouldn't notice. She wasn't feeling great but Victoria defendly had snapped her out of her own stormy mind.

"I can't sleep, I think I took a little too long nap at 5 pm but I also heard there's a blood moon tonight," Victoria explained herself from the other side of the line. "So wanna come to watch it with me? To the swing?"

The swing was the place Victoria had showed y/n the first time they ever met. They'd been drunk at friends' party and the story had taken elsewhere and so the two girls had found each other on this forgotten field with only the threes and one old swing.

"a blood moon?" Y/n asked.

"Yeah. Thought i'd be pretty cool." Y/n could only imagine the expression Victoria had on her face. Sometimes she got really excited over spontanious things and y/n never wanted to be the one to ruin it.

"Sure let's go." Y/n said to the phone. She was pretty happy about getting outside the dark apartment she had been rotting in for the past few days and feeling all the emotions she didn't want to feel.

"Good cus im already at your door." Victoria laughed.

“What?” Y/n trots to the window on her left and as she looks down to the apartment front, she indeed sees the light-haired girl with a big smile on her face under the street lights.

Y/n chuckles a little bit, "alright, I'll come down in a sec."

There was only one store in the whole tinpot sleeping town that was open during the night and even though it meant a little longer walk, the girls were certain the moon could not be watched without a family-sized pack of chips.

The greenish-yellow drugstore light flickered over them as they searched the stacks from those one specific brand of cheap flavored chips they had grown found over mainly because it was what they always bought when they were together and it was night. It had become this unwritten rule that where there was night, food, Victoria and y/n, the food was these chips.

“I swear to God if they don't have them.” Victoria already blustered until both of their eyes snatched into the orange pack with pretentious font over it.

"There!" Both of them yelped at the same time causing the tired-looking cashier to glared at them like he was about to kick them out simply because the girls were too awake for him to have them in his store at that time of the night but then again, he hated drunk party people more than he hated night owls.

Victoria and y/n grabbed the chip back and ran to the cash register like there was only one second left. And how could have they known but as the chip back flowted on the black assembly line, y/n felt as if maybe there was.

" thank you!" Victoria thanked the cashier as she grabbed y/n's hand and began to hasten out of the store.

Victoria's shoft hand felt electric on y/n skin. Sometimes it almost slipped from her mouth that she wished Victoria's hand would never leave hers or more so that no stranger's hand would ever find Victoria's. But of course over anything she wished as an endlessly burning sun that one day Victoria would hold someone's hand that maybe was stranger to her but a lover to Victoria. Sometimes she wish it could have been her but something behind her eat whispered to her that prehaps she was the worst thing Victoria had ever gotten attached to and that's why it never slipped from her month.

The moon indeed was red that night. Hanging in the sky it shimmered the earth with its red cast. The dirt underneath their toes rustled as they finally reached the swing.

"Take a swing, I'll see how many chips you can catch." Victoria said as she opened the chip back and prepared herself to aim at y/n's month.

Y/n giggled. She maybe had played the game last time in elementary school but she also remembered being good at it.

Y/n pushes herself into the swing and launched herself forward, trying to get into the best speed possible.

The rough old rope felt foul against y/n palms as she holds onto the swing and Victoria tried to throw chips at her but quite frankly, in the dark y/n couldn't tell at all where the chips were flying at.

"This was harder than I remembered." Y/n laught as victoria waved her hands.

"Did you catch any?" Victoria giggled. They both knew this was dumb but it was the best part of it.

"No I mean one hit my face and that was the closest one" y/n stopped the swing from swinging.

"Damn. Well, the ants gonna have a diner party tonight then." Victoria walked closer to y/n and sat on her lap to the swing. A lot of the times they just came to the swing to sit and talk and because there was only one swing, they quite often also tested the ability and streight of the old ropes holding the swing on the tree.

"Not sure how much salt the ants can handle tho." Y/n said as she wrapped her arms around Victoria.

"Me either, maybe not at all." Victoria said as she watched the moon over them. "It is red indeed." Victoria signed.

"Yeah, it is." Y/n could smell the sweet smell of her soft hair. She wanted to lean her head against her neck but resisted because what she thought was prevailed to exposing the truth that she thought she was hiding.

"You know what else was red? Your eyes when you came down the stairs." Victoria got up and turned to face her. "So what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vic." Y/n let her cold hands fall to her lap.

"I also know when you lie." Victoria crossed her arms, eyeing y/n who still sat on the squeaky swing.

Y/n just stared right back of her. She didn't really know what to say or how to express what was wrong. In a way, she hoped she'd understand or that she'd know how she felt when everything felt big and the sky was falling. But she also feared she was a blue burden and so she didn't know what to say.

Victoria signed. It spiked y/n's heart because she didn't want to make her frustrated or angry with her, she just didn't know what to say and she didn't feel brave enough either.

But what came to y/n as an suprise, Victoria leaned little bit forward and pressed her warm lips againgst her fraught onces. Victoria's lips felt soft against hers and her tongue slowly traced her lips. It was tender sweet and y/n heart race and blush rose as she tasted Victoria. Y/n lifted her hands to gently pull her closer and Victoria slightly smiled into the kiss of how into it y/n was getting.

Soon Victoria pulled away, leaving y/n swollen lips. She looked up to her and Victoria gently run her thumb over y/n's lips before sitting back into her lap and wrapping y/n's arms back around her.

"When you feel like talking just tell me." She said as she watched the moon that was just as red as was her heart. "I truly believe you'd feel better if you sometimes talked to someone."

Y/n nobbed, and then she wrapped her arms tighter around her snuggled her head into her neck.

#måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis x y/n #victoria de angelis x reader #x reader #victoria de angelis fanfic #fanfiction #måneskin fanfic #angst #victoria de angelis angst

[mccnyoongi]

knj ⇢ novels.

⇢ word count: 5k+

⇢ warnings: art dealer!namjoon, bougie & rich!namjoon, hints of sugar daddy joon but not really??, established relationship, THEY ARE VERY IN LOVE ITS VERY SOFT >:(, but also, smut/porn, unprotected sex, dom!joonie, lots of praise, degredation, spanking, hair pulling, choking, light exhibitionism, light anal play, a bit of impreg, good old fashioned parisian fucking.

⇢ summary: You might just fill a novel with all the things you love about Kim Namjoon.

⇢ author’s note: happy namjoon week - this went from being an 800 word smutty drabble to a full ass one shot with a whole lotta fluff and exposistion… so i hope you guys are ready for the most lovey dovey bullshit to ever come out of this blog (which is saying a lot im a small soft baby)! but im also a whore so its still filthy… ily 💞

You met Kim Namjoon just over two years ago. Your friend had dragged you to a new opening at a gallery, insisting that the artist was a) crazy talented and b) crazy cute, so there was no way she was about to miss it, but also no way she was about to go alone ‘like a loser.’ Said artist was the young, and, admittedly, quite cute, Kim Taehyung, who Namjoon had just started to represent, and would swear up and down that he was gonna be the next big thing. 

You were inclined to agree with both Namjoon and your friend, but you thought that Namjoon’s eyes were far more captivating than any painting you’d ever seen. And later that night, after everyone but the two of you had left, you found out that no collection of brush strokes or lines in a sketchbook could possibly compare to the beauty of Namjoon and the groans he’d involuntarily let out as he fucked the life out of you against the floor to ceiling windows of the empty gallery.

You figured it would be a one-time thing; that he was far too busy to be chasing after a girl like you. People were writing articles about him, you were scraping your way through your last semester of university as an English major and working a shitty part-time job. But then a week later you had gotten a special delivery- the Taehyung piece you and Namjoon had first crossed paths in front of. The one you had been staring at to avoid his searing gaze, the tension palpable despite knowing each other for only minutes.

He texted you about dinner plans the same day you received the painting. Your sweet, sweet, stupidly romantic boy.

Two years have gone and Namjoon was only proven right- Taehyung was his big break into the art world, and everything Namjoon had ever wanted. He’s not sure if it would all taste as sweet without you, but he does have you, so his life is cotton candy flavoured, rose-tinted and gorgeous. Right now, however, the cotton candy is overpowered by equally sweet red wine, a bottle shared between the two of you in the extravagant hotel room he had insisted upon. Paris suits him, you think. 

He loves the extravagance and being able to laugh at the pretentiousness of some, most, all of the artists here. He glows under the lights of the city as they pour in through the balcony windows, the moon as full as your heart and your glass. His eyes take in the view, something he once told you he’d never get tired of. He loves pretty landscapes, from cityscapes to rolling hills of the countryside, to the curves of your body. You take him in from your spot on the plush couch, a piece of furniture not even Marie Antoinette would turn her nose up at.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” It takes you a second to figure out that he’s referring to the wine- you were too busy thinking about the poems and sonnets you could write about his dimples. 

“Tastes expensive,” You comment, and you only say it because you know it was expensive, otherwise you wouldn’t know the difference. It is smooth though, running down your throat like water, dangerously easy to drink, and you’re suddenly thankful that you only have the one bottle to split between the two of you.

“It is expensive,” He chuckles but throws the rest of the glass back into his mouth like it’s a gin and tonic from a dive bar in your hometown. “But I stole it from Tae’s room- the kid fucking owes me.” The devious grin he throws at you is dazzling. Not that he’s in any kind of position where he needs to steal bottles of wine from his friends; he’s childish and teasing when it comes to them. You think it’s cute and endearing.

You humour him like your teenagers who have to be creative with their drinking habits. “Well then, it’s the best wine I’ve ever tasted.”

“You’ve impeccable taste, darling,” He gives you a nod that asks you to join him by the window without him having to actually ask. He never has to ask.

You stand to join him, the dress he had gifted you with for your first anniversary falling at its place on your thighs, the silk soft and cool on your skin. He wraps a toned arm around your waist when you’re close enough, always revelling in how small you feel in his arms. He noses at the crown of your head and your heart brims with nothing but love for your Kim Namjoon.

“We should get a place here,” He sets his now empty wine glass on the counter beside him, his hands now free as he pulls you to stand in front of him, wrapping both of his toned arms around you from behind, his feel and smell more comforting than the world’s best massage.

“What, in Paris?”

“France. Southern France maybe. Get a villa, or whatever they’re called. A boat too... I want a fucking boat, babe.”

“Then you’ll get a boat,” As far as you’re concerned, what Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. The universe seems to bend around him, whether you like it or not. Thankfully you like it quite a bit, especially ever since Namjoon had decided he wanted you.

“And we’ll need a big backyard,” He’s quieter now, no hint of teasing in his tone and when you look over your shoulder at him, he’s avoiding eye contact, his eyes darting around at the view the window is still offering to him. “For some kids to, you know… Run around and shit.” He always clams up and gets a little awkward when treading unknown territory, even when he has no reason to be.

“Sounds like a plan, big guy.”

His arms tighten around you, and he nestles his nose back into your hair for all the words he’s not saying. Namjoon has many ways to say I love you, and every single one makes you float a bit off the ground. Tonight you’re practically fucking levitating.

His plush lips press against your head, soft kisses littering your skin as he travels the pecks down the side of your face. You lean into them, until he places one on the corner of your own lips and you turn your head, two pairs of lips finally meeting. They move in such tandem and harmony, they can only belong to two people madly in love. His tongue sweeps against your lips, the kiss deepening as he turns you to fully face him, mouths never leaving mouths, the two of you only becoming more entwined with one another.

He mostly tastes like the wine, French and pungent, but that distinctly Namjoon taste is still there- it’s minty and intoxicating. The familiarity makes you relax into his strong arms still curled around you. 

“So sweet,” He mumbles into your lips as if he still can’t believe that you’re real. “Always so sweet for me.” He finally pulls back from the kiss to admire you- your heated cheeks, swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. 

“Joonie-”

“I know, honey, I know. Gonna take such good care of you- my perfect girl.” You almost make a somewhat sarcastic comment at the word perfect, but it dies in your throat when his head dips down so he can suck harsh marks into the soft skin of your neck. He loves leaving marks there, even though you tease him and call him childish and cheesy for it, but he can’t help it. He loves making you into his very own work of art. If he had his way you’d be on display in the Louvre, the most beautiful piece there. Mona Lisa be damned.

“You’d better,” You tease because you don’t have the words to explain how much you love him, not out loud. That’s what writing is for. But for now, you’ll tease and poke and prod until he gives you what you need- which you never have to wait long for. He finds it impossible to say no to you.

“Don’t challenge me, little girl,” A fire has ignited in your lover’s eyes, one that sparks something within yourself, as it always has, and you genuinely believe it always will. 

The hand that tangles in your hair only stokes the flames that have begun deep within you. His hand is all at once rough and caring as it pulls, baring your neck to him as if he were some kind of bloodthirsty nightcrawler. But no, he’s just your Namjoon, the one who can dampen your panties and have your heart racing with just a look.

You grin at the tension and the intensity with which he looks into your own, lust-stricken eyes. “What, Namjoon? Afraid you won’t be able to deliver?” It’s an empty taunt, you both know it. He has delivered time and time again, leaving you with a stinging ass, hoarse voice, and an embarrassing waddle in your step. If there’s one thing Namjoon knows how to do, it’s deliver on his promises. And yet you still find yourself push, push, pushing. 

But Joon’s dominance holds strong, a real and honest, guttural growl tearing through his throat at your bratty behaviour. You don’t flinch, but instead bite your lip at the sound, the rumble of it tearing through you and straight into your core. 

“Gonna remind you who the fuck’s in charge, baby,” He’s whispering but to you, it’s just as loud and just as intense as a jet plane taking off, the rumbling of the syllables reaching every primal nerve in your body and setting them alight. His grip on your hair loosens, the large hand brushing stray hair away from your face, the softness of the action almost surprising you more than the forceful yanks he had subjected you to not moments before. “You want that?” He nudges your nose with your own, the air around the two of you thick with tension.

You almost respond by telling him what a dumb question that is- of course, you want it. You think you might even need it. But you decide to acquiesce, to submit because this night is too perfect to carry on being brat you’d have no problem being anywhere that isn’t this five-star hotel room in the heart of Paris with your near-perfect boyfriend. 

“Please, Joonie. Just want you.” And he’ll give you all of him, that much is clear. His jaw clenches as he looks you over with the same eyes he used to look over the lights of the city not ten minutes ago, but now his gaze is filled with an unbreaking, loving lust. 

He’s drinking you in- starting with your bare feet, freed from the confines of those strappy Louis Vuittons the moment you’d stepped through the door. He travels up the flesh of your legs that he just wants to sink his fucking teeth into; moves up the silk of the dress that accentuates everything he loves about your body to the lavish diamond choker he’d really fucking splurged on for the most recent anniversary; and finally to your eyes, beautiful, blown out and wide as they stare up at him. He could so easily get lost in those eyes, and he has many times before- but right now he’d rather be getting lost in your pussy.

“Turn around and put your hands on the glass, baby.” Your body obeys before your brain even has a chance to process his words, not that you have any complaints. 

You can still see Namjoon when you turn around; his mirror image in the reflection of the panelled windows far more enticing than any city on this planet. You feel bad for the smudges your hands will inevitably leave and Namjoon will inevitably tease you about tomorrow morning, but it’s a fleeting thought, the anticipation of what’s in store for the rest of your night clouding your judgement, in a welcomed break from the concerns of the real world. Now it’s just Namjoon.

The glass is cold against your hands, but Namjoon’s hands are warm as they start palming your silk-covered ass, jutted out slightly because of your position against the window. It’s no secret Namjoon loves this particular body part of yours- known among friends for casually and nonchalantly slipping a hand into your back pocket or up your skirt. 

He inches the skirt of your dress up your thighs and past your hips, not even bothering to stifle the groan that tears through him at the sight of the dampened lace now being the only thing to protect your modesty (hah). 

“So fucking pretty,” The way he says it is so fucking sincere you think you might tear up. Instead, you just let out a slight cry as he runs a single knuckle up and down your covered folds. The chuckle he lets out at your sound isn’t quite sinister but it’s nowhere near innocent; he’ll never get over the effect he has on you. “My girl’s got the prettiest cunt around, nothin’ fucking compares, baby.”

His next movement is so sudden; there’s no stopping the girlish squeal that escapes your soft pink painted lips as he gives a swift spank to your ass, his large hand and the force behind it making your nerve ending blossom in pleasurable pain. He delivers a flurry of quick smacks, too fast for your lust addled mind to possibly count as he alternates between your left and right cheeks. Your sounds are embarrassing, or they would be if you didn’t know how much he loved them. You squeal, whimper and moan as your ass juts out, begging him for more as your legs involuntarily kick from under you and your splayed hands turn into fists against the glass.

He keeps one hand on your now slightly pinkened ass, palming it and massaging it under his warm appendage, the other thumbing at your pussy, making you wish he’d just strip you of your underwear already. His patience is maddening though. His thumb roughly moves up and down your pussy, the cloth becoming wetter by the second.

“C’mon, Joonie,” Your voice is airy, almost breathless, but above all, pleading. “Need more, need you so so bad.”

Normally begging works fairly quickly on Namjoon. Unless he’s in a mood where he wants everything drawn out, wants you drooling, dripping and barely able to think before he gives you what you want. Two guesses as to how he’s feeling tonight.

Your begs don’t get you what you want- although you’re not sure you’re even clear as to what exactly it is that you want- instead, they land you another spank, this time to your still goddamn clothed pussy. You let out a sob of both surprise and pain, your elbows buckling so your forearms and the side of your face are against the window and you’re bent over even further than before.

“Greedy fucking slut…” He gropes at your pussy now, massaging away any lingering pain. “You’ll get what I give you and you’ll fucking take it,” A hand winds into your hair once more, now mussed and tangled from his earlier ministrations, and pulls forcefully so that your head is next to his, most of your weight supported by the fist in you hair and his other arm as it curls around your middle. “Isn’t that right?”

You nod in spite of your limited movement, desperate to please. “Yeah-yes Joonie, I’ll take it all,” Your eyes close in sheer submission. “Take anything you give me.”

“Cause I know what you need, yeah?” You nod again as his hand loosens in your hair to squeeze at your cheeks and pucker your lips. “No one else. Just me. Just me and you.”

“Just us.” He lets out a puff of air at your words- satisfaction maybe, or excitement- but it seems to have been enough when he bends you back against the glass and grips at your hips. 

Excitement buzzes through your bones at the feeling of his talented figures hook into each side of the lace there. He pulls slowly at the fabric, too fucking slowly, so slowly that you think you might lose your mind if it wasn’t for his hands and overall commanding presence tethering you to some lose grip of reality. 

He grins when he sees the mess you’ve made, all thanks to him. Pride blossoms in his chest, like it, always does when he gets to see a physical manifestation of the effect he has on you. 

The panties are gone, but you barely register it. He could have thrown them out the window for all you cared, the only thing you could possibly focus on is his fingers, skilled and devilish on your finally bare pussy. He’s still teasing of course, relentlessly, never giving enough pressure, never focusing on one spot for too long- circling around your clit, dipping into your hole but never more than a single knuckle. Evil bastard. He taunts you with sinful words as he goes.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” A pinch to your clit and you whine pitifully. “Soaking my fucking hand and I barely have to work to get you this wet,” A generous drag of his thumb against your swollen bud and your hips buck in a desperate attempt for something, anything, just more. “That’s how fucking easy you are for me, my perfect slut, made to get fucked by me.”

“Joonie, please, please, I am, ‘m your slut, Joonie-” Your begging is cut off with an abrupt sob when Namjoon plunges two of his deliciously thick and strong fingers into your weeping cunt with little pretense. 

“This? Is this what you were fucking begging for? Just needed something to fill your desperate pussy, hm?”

You don’t answer- you can’t, not with him pistoning his fingers in and out of you with an unforgiving pace and an even better curve and arch. Your mouth is open in silent cries at what he’s giving you, as it’s both so much but not nearly enough to take you over the edge, to bring you the peak you so fucking desperately crave.

“That’s all you ever want, isn’t it though? Your pussy filled and your head empty,” More spanks are landed on your ass as he speaks, punishing you for something he loves about you. “Always so needy for me, just like you should be.”

You whine and buck your hips frantically, knowing you don’t need words to beg him. He knows your body well enough to understand that you’re pleading for more, even if he’s finger fucked the words out of your head. It might even be more delicious this way.

“I know, baby, I know,” He speaks softer now, as if he’s talking you through a nightmare and not knuckle deep inside you as we speak. “Just need to get fucked so fuckin’ bad, don’t you baby? Can’t even fucking help it.” He coos; how can he still find you adorable like this, doubled over and stuffed full of his fingers, breasts spilling out of the top of your dress.

“You gotta cum for me first though before you get what you really want,” His other hand reaches around your front to rub brutish but calculated circles into your swollen clit and your cries become even more wanton and needy. “Gonna stuff you full of my cock, promise, just need your tight, filthy cunt to cum around my fingers first, alright baby?”

You nod frantically- “Yeah, Joon, gonna cum soon, need it,” You wish you can see him as you reciprocate his crude promises to the best of your fucked out abilities. You know he must have the biggest shit-eating- or is it pussy eating- grin on his face as your breath catches on every other syllable. “Need your cock so fucking bad.”

“You’ll fucking get it,” He sighs out, bending over to mouth at your neck to whisper into your ear. “Now fucking cum.”

The command is a trigger for you almost like even your body knows that it belongs to him. You orgasm on shaking, unsteady legs, eyes shut tightly, as if letting any light in would overwhelm you to the point of no return, and fingernails digging into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself. Your moans are a combination of your lover’s name and incoherent babbles while Namjoon gracefully coaxes you through the ordeal, soft mumbles of what’s to come in your ear, and hands still incessant at your core.

His voice, which sent you tumbling over the edge of the earth is also what brings you back, calling you his good girl, perfect girl, my girl. His hand is gently petting at your messy hair, pulling you to an upright position, though most, if not all of your weight is being supported by him. 

He tilts your head up by your chin, getting a good view of you- blown out pupils, heaving chest and sweaty skin. He’s so fucking proud because he did that, it’s all him, you don’t fall apart like this for anyone else, and no one else can cause his cock to strain against his pants the way you do. The perfect match- and the wicked grin you give him when your eyes meet his only confirms the notion. You’re both as beautifully depraved as one another. Soulmates, if you believe in that kind of thing.

Namjoon does believe in that kind of thing. And you’re his person. This notion is only further confirmed when he moves his calloused hand down to your neck and wraps around the soft skin there; and your grin doesn’t falter a bit, but instead, it widens a fraction. The sight makes his heart jumps in his chest in time with his cock jumping in his pants.

“Good fuckin’ girl…” He’s referring to both you cumming on his command and your unwavering submission. It’s beautiful and so are you. “I think you deserve a reward, baby.”

At his words, you suddenly feel as though your orgasm hasn’t quite sated you, but wracked up your neediness several notches. The sound of his zipper being undone is enough for your pussy to slicken even further; you feel like a mess but you’re revelling in it and you know he is too.

Your dress- the fact that you were even still wearing it had slipped your mind somewhere in that mind-blowing orgasm- is pulled over your head, leaving you bare in front of appreciative and loving eyes. He kneads at your tits for fleeting moments, even teasing your already hardened nipples and you keen, every single part of you oversensitive and buzzing.

“Up against the window now, baby,” He steels you by the hips and shuffles you forward, breasts once more pressed against the chilly glass, but you don’t have to bend over so much as arch your back and present yourself for the taking. 

His hands grab at your waist, grip strong and surely going to bruise, the marks leftover for him to trace and press sweet kisses to in the days to come. It is sweet now, but lustfully so, while he rocks his hips, the thing you crave most still two layers away as it grinds against you.

He doesn’t bother actually undressing, he likes the visuals and the power dynamic of your naked form against his completely covered one too much. Instead, he unsheaths himself from the confines of his pants, cock hard and at attention, small beads of white collecting at its angry red tip. He’s so hard, so fucking hard because you make him unbearably hard. 

You’re a minx and a menace, even when you don’t realize it. Right now, however, you're fully aware of it, pushing back on his now bare cock, looking over your shoulder to smirk at him. You just might fucking kill him, he thinks.

“Joonie, come on-” You’re not quite begging anymore. Your voice has taken on a playful lilt with a hefty side of undeniable lust. “Gimme your cock already, just fuck me, need to feel you in me, fucking me, cumming in me-”

He interrupts you again. Not with a spank, or his fingers inside you, but with his hand finding home on your neck once more. He adds pressure, restricts your breathing ever so slightly and your heart skips a beat. “What, you get what you want and you turn into a greedy tease? Ungrateful fucking whore,” He slides the length of his cock along your dripping heat, you’re so fucking tempting and he thinks he might be the strongest man alive for not sliding into you right then and there. “I’ll give you my cock. You know I will. And I’m gonna fuck you so hard, make you cum so hard I’m gonna have to carry you out of the hotel when we check out tomorrow morning, and all those prissy bitches in the lobby are gonna see my cum dripping out of you because you’ll be so stuffed full of it.”

You swallow and he can feel the movement of your throat against his palm. His grip softens for a second and he sighs into your ear as you soak his cock before he even begins to fuck you.

“Fuck me Namjoon. Please.”

The dam breaks- he can’t hold himself back anymore, not for a million dollars, not for the entire damn Louvre. He slides into you, filling you to the brim in mere seconds and your groans harmonize with each other. Two proverbial puzzle pieces locking together, the head brushing against your cervix. The fear that you might split in two over his girth is no longer there, instead, it’s just bliss as you know no one else will ever fit with you like he does.

He throbs within you and you clench around him, wondering if he’ll just fucking move because if he doesn’t you might just have to bite his goddamn head off-

And now he’s cutting off your inner monologues too, as he pulls almost completely out of you only to pound back in with force and heat. Your whines are high pitched and his growls are low and grumbling as he starts to properly fuck you, to batter your needy pussy.

“Shit, Joon, oh my God,” You stutter out none too gracefully and his hand tightens once more around your throat, the goal to restrict your breathing enough to drive up your oversensitivity into overdrive. His own maddening breaths and grunts tickle your ear.

“That fucking good, huh?” He laughs airily. “Love when I can make you like this, my little bitch, keening and begging and praying.” Puffs of air fog up the window, and no doubt there’ll be crude outlines of you by the time you’re done, your own little piece of crude and fleeting art and it will be beautiful, but nowhere near as exquisite as the hand around your neck or his length sliding in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

His hand still at your waist slides to your ass, landing a few more lingering spanks to make sure the pink hue will last well into tomorrow and you groan at each one, all the sensations too much in the best way possible. When it’s the colour he wants he gropes it roughly, fingernails digging in just enough to leave little crescent marks in their wake. As he pulls at the flesh there he notices your untouched hole, tempting him just by being there.

He lets his thumb ghost over your asshole; the idea had always enticed him. Now it’s even more so, so taboo and brilliantly so.

“One day I’ll take this hole too, huh?” He lets his finger rub over the whole, not penetrating, only teasing, only tempting. “You’ll let me have all of you, won’t you.”

“You already have all of me,” You counter, because it’s true, especially now, with the way he has you in his grasp. “You just have to take it.”

 He groans at that- you know how to make him crumble, don’t you? You’ve got him wrapped around your pinky finger, but there’s only one finger of yours he wants. “Gonna put a fucking ring on that finger soon, baby. Then we’ll really belong to each other,” Your whimpers make him grin and his hips stutter at their pace on your cunt. “But for now-” He’s falling apart, you can tell by the way he’s choking through his words. “For now, I’ll just make sure everyone knows your mine by painting your beautiful body with my marks, my bruises, my cum.”

“Are you gonna cum in me, Joonie?” The mere idea of it makes you clench tightly around him, needing to milk him until he does. “Please…”

“You want my cum?” You nod, a hand coming off its place to grab at his head beside yours, at his silken locks, now laden with sweat. “I’ll fill you with it, baby, might even knock you up-” You both gasp at his words, his thrusts becoming even harsher and your pussy gushing even more around him. “Then everyone will really fucking know who you belong to when you’re carrying my fucking baby.”

“Namjoon, I’m gonna-”

“Cum around my cock and milk it dry, my perfect greedy whore? Then do it. Fucking do it.”

And you do- you fall headfirst into yet another mind-boggling orgasm, so full, and as you do, his hand tightens once more, all your breathing cut off. He only does it for a few seconds, before moving his hand up to your face, puckering your lips, but it makes a fucking difference, your eyes rolling back into your head, cries sounding something like Namjoon’s name tumbling out. You might even thank him, you’re not sure.

At the peak of it, he reaches his own release, cum spurting into you and somehow it feels even better and the pleasure might be making you insane. He groans your name, and from his mouth, it sounds like the most beautiful ballad you’ve ever heard. He cums so much, and so hard you almost take it as a compliment, some of his cum spilling out of you and onto your thighs, and probably onto the tiled floor, it’s just so fucking much.

The world is still around, like you and Namjoon are the only things not frozen in time, chests heaving and overheated. The lust fades slowly, at the same rate his cock softens within you though he doesn’t pull out quite yet. As the lust dissipates, you’re left with a love for the man who can fuck you within an inch of your life and hand-feed you a silly, childish sundae not twenty minutes later as you watch your favourite episodes of shitty sitcoms and mumble I love yous into ice cream frosted lips. 

The cum has been cleaned off of both of you, and the floor, because, yes, it did drip down a little, and you’re bare-faced and cozy pyjama laden and he still looks at you the exact way you did when you were decked out in diamonds, luxury brands and makeup.

Yes, you might just write a novel about all the ways you love Kim Namjoon.

#btsbookclub #btswritingcafe #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon one shot #bts one shot #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #im iffy on the ending but!!!!! u know #jdskfndsk #happy namjoon day!

[michaelmilkers]

I saw in one of your tags that you mentioned how 21 pilots made emo pretentious and im actually curious about why you say that (not hate i just never knew about them that much)

my friend you have asked me about a topic i am very knowledgeable and very angry about so prepare yourself for what you have wrought

it isnt just twenty one pilots but theyre just the biggest and most popular example

like. take my chemical romance in the early-mid 2000s aka the peak of emo. it was very melodramatic and theatrical, the way emo should be. there was a presence of “we are not like other people” in a lot of the songs, but it was never just that. it was more of a “we have been cast out and we kinda suck but thats okay.” one of the best examples of this is, ironically, i’m not okay.

take, for example, the opening to the mtv music video:

[Ray] You like D&D, Audrey Hepburn, Fangoria, Harry Houdini and croquet. You can't swim, you can't dance and you don't know karate. Face it, you're never gonna make it. [Gerard] I don't wanna make it, I just wanna...

this immediately establishes the song as being about social outcasts and people who dont fit the mold. the fucking tag line of the song is “i’m not okay” ffs, that really tells you all you need to know about the song. but the important thing is it doesnt take itself too seriously either. the music video takes place in a private school, and shows scenes of the band members eating lunch alone, being bullied by jocks and preps, etc., but it ALSO shows scenes of frank putting swim goggles on in chemistry class and ray drawing on his test with a crayon and then licking it, and at the end they all ambush and beat the shit out of a guy in a mascot costume. all of this is cut up by text saying things like “if you ever felt alone” “if you ever felt wronged” “if you ever felt anxious”

do you see the juxtaposition here? the music video could very very easily be a fake deep bullying psa, but its not, because while theyre getting bullied and playing their music in a garage they are also, unequivocally, total fucking losers for obvious comedic effect. it is a very exaggerated and lighthearted version of real phenomena, which makes it more relatable to a wider audience.

the same can be said about the song itself. it has some pretty heavy and angsty lyrics (”i’m not o-fucking-kay”) but the instrumentals are punchy and energetic and catchy and gerard’s vocal delivery is very theatrical but also very deliberate and he still puts real emotion in the words. it sounds like its taking the piss out of not being okay, which is exactly what i as a clinically depressed 13 year old needed, and i bet a lot of other people can say the same. i’m a loser and thats okay. i fucking suck in school and thats okay. i feel shitty and thats okay. i’m not okay and that, in itself, is okay.

with twenty one pilots, on the other hand, there is no theatrics, theres no taking the piss, theres no over-the-top melodrama that made emo what it was. 

take, for comparison, the opening lines of heathens:

All my friends are heathens, take it slow Wait for them to ask you who you know Please don't make any sudden moves You don't know the half of the abuse

and this presents, immediately, one of my biggest criticisms of twenty one pilots: their rampant appropriation of mental illness.

because my first thought when hearing this is as an abuse survivor and someone with ptsd they can kiss every single square inch of my ass.

Welcome to the room of people Who have rooms of people that they loved one day Docked away Just because we check the guns at the door Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades You're loving on the psychopath sitting next to you You're loving on the murderer sitting next to you You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"

they try to do the same kind of nuanced poetic lyrics that my chemical romance did and in my opinion is just doesnt fucking work because they take themselves SO. FUCKING. SERIOUSLY. it sounds JOYLESS. 

and the song closes out with this:

Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed (It's blasphemy) I tried to warn you just to stay away (Away) And now they're outside ready to bust (To bust) It looks like you might be one of us

this is what i mean by pretentious. there is a clear separation of the person/people from whose point of view the song is told and the people the song is meant to be listened to by from the greater population, but theres no high energy or comedic self deprecation to counteract it. 

now take some lyrics from heavydirtysoul, a song i actually really like the sound of, im not just shitting on this band bc its not to my taste yall:

There's an infestation in my mind's imagination I hope that they choke on smoke 'cause I'm smoking them out the basement This is not rap, this is not hip-hop Just another attempt to make the voices stop

Nah, I didn't understand a thing you said If I didn't know better I'd guess you're all already dead Mindless zombies walking around with a limp and a hunch Saying stuff like, "You only live once." You've got one time to figure it out One time to twist and one time to shout One time to think and I say we start now Sing it with me if you know what I'm talking about

right back at it again with that appropriation of mental illness symptoms! and some dumbass critique of our generation that doesnt fit in with the rest of the song at all, closing out the verse with “we are not like you” shit. the vocal delivery at least has more energy than heathens, but the lyrics just feel like a mishmash of different points theyre trying to make that have nothing to do with each other.

the best line of the song is undoubtedly “death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit” but its poetic just... for the sake of being poetic? its one of those lyrics that sounds like someone came up with and was like “bro we gotta put that in a song” but then couldnt actually figure out how to fit it into a song in a way that would flow. another example of this is “i cant drown my demons they know how to swim” in bring me the horizon’s can you feel my heart. not shitting on bring me the horizon, i really like sempiternal, but thats another line thats just poetic for the sake of being poetic. and to be put on t-shirts. i know this because when i was 12 i had a shirt that said “i cant drown my demons they know how to swim” on it.

i could do more analysis on other mcr songs, namely welcome to the black parade and famous last words, but i would be here for literal hours and idk if people actually care that much.

to sum my points up:

they take themselves too seriously. they appropriate and romanticize mental illness (forgot to mention that top’s website, at one time, described their music as “schizoid pop” lol). they pull a lot of “We Are Not Like Other People..,.,.,,...” shit. 

that last point is not inherently a bad thing, for example the new slipknot album is literally called “we are not your kind” but the song that contains that line as a lyric is all out life, and corey taylor is screaming that entire song and the instrumentals are reminiscent of speed metal with how fucking energetic they are. its edgy and its GREAT. twenty one pilots just sounds like they think theyre the shit.

also, and i want you to read the following sentence in a bass boosted voice to best understand how i feel when i say this:

the twenty one pilots cover of cancer is an embarrassment that completely misses the point of the original song and changed it into a weird amalgamation of lo-fi synth pop.

emo music is dead. thank u and goodnight.

#Anonymous

[thesassiestcolor]

Anymore of those STRQ song recs? (ya I actually listened to them assdfghkllhg)

Okay this anon has just given me persmission to go HAM so buckle up (and thank you!) and let’s expose me my music taste lol

Summer:

These are going to be pretty generic bc we don’t really know how she was and some just based on Headcanon bc lmao you asked

Make You Feel My Love - Adele bc I’m basic

Radio Ga Ga - Queen Summer was definitely a Queen Stan and Radio holds nice memories

What Would You Do - Bastille (this will NOT be the only Bastille on this list lmao get ready)

Right Before my Eyes - Cage the Elephant damn imagine being like the Kindest and living in a world like remnant this woman should have gone crazy

Where Are You Now - Mumford and Sons for the Mood

Good Grief - Bastille bc I don’t know HOW she handled TRQ in early days

Rabbit Heart - Florence + The Machine TALK to me about soft characters going feral lmao

Taiyang:

Let’s be honest most of these are about Raven or Summer or his kids bc he’s got a lotta love to give

Remains - Bastille (VS album) this ones actually about picking up pieces of grief so :)

Agnes - Glass Animals similar to ^ let it sink it

Didn’t You - Bear Attack! Bitter about Raven

Rewrite the Stars - Zac Efron, Zendaya I try not to include musicals but damn this one speaks for itself

My Sweet Lord - George Harrison for the Mood

Shame - Bastille this ones to Qrow lmao kill em

Slow Motion - Saint Motel love is GOOD babey!!

Love of my Life - Queen for sad

Two Days Later - Fink please allow this song to sink in to your soul and the meaning reveal itself in the oddest of ways

Little Boy - Barns Courtney see above ^

Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra for the sunshine man aesthetic

Hyacinth House - The Doors him and Qrow get high ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ruby Baby - Dion don’t imagine him singing this to baby ruby!! It’s too cute!! you’ll die!!

Raven:

Im gonna try not to include too many from my super long strq post I have but there’s repeats I think are really good because I’m Emo

Get Free - Lana Del Ray take a shot every time a major theme of these songs is being torn between two desires - this is shot one

Glory (Bunker Session) - Bastille this one’s just a feeling

Delilah - Florence + the Machine bc shes Bi and summer let her have fun for Once in her life lmao

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde this is Fuck Ozpin 2.0

Caught - Florence + the Machine Shot #2

Killed Queen - Queen obligatory queen song bc they’ve been on my mind lately lol

Giants - Bear Attack! Pre Beacon her and Qrow dreams babey

L.A. Woman - The Doors because.

A Woman’s Game - Karliene this is actually a Game Of Thrones fan song about Cersei Lannister but lmao Cersei and Raven have a ton of similarities anyway (not the brother thing omg)

St. Jude - Florence + the Machine damn I hope you like Florence lmao me? associate catholicism and religious guilt with the Branwens? never

Chainsaw - Losers because it sounds badass

Qrow:

It’s time for Full Emo and for me to be Pretentious af and some rock because come on

Voo Doo Child - Jimi Hendrix I told you there was gonna be badass rock babey! Let’s get it out of the way! Others include:

D’yer Mak’er - Led Zeppelin

Free Bird - Lynyrd Skynyrd this isn’t a joke (and the solo mysteriously lines up with the vs Winte fight lmao)

Wanderer - Dion I wouldn’t say this is rock but listen to it with a hint of irony

The Ocean - Led Zeppelin last one I promise

I Want to Break Free - Queen Ok Queen is only sometimes rock lmao

Lethal Combination - The Wombats back when him and Raven were tight

Two Evils - Bastille ironically, also for him and Raven

Hypocrite - Cage the Elephant as per usual w/ CTE, everything sucks and it’s our fault

An Act of Kindness - Bastille when Summer being Nice for no reason just knocked him on his ass

Out of my Head - The Wombats for that alcoholic feel

Arsonist’s Lullaby - Hozier because every single lyric about giving up to a predetermined trait about yourself is Amazing but especially “I knew something would always rule me....all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach” destroys me every time

Always Something - Cage the Elephant speaks for itself and everything sucks

#holy shit this took longer than i wanted it to but lol NEVER give me permission to speak!! #rwby #strq #team strq #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #raven branwen #ruby rose #song rec #and i didnt even include musicals!!! #sfw #it’s me talking #asks #anon

[fanfictionformost-blog]

Bob fic

It was a regular day at the record shop you worked at, You were wearing your usual black ripped skinny jeans and a band tee. Today the band on your shirt was The Violent Femmes, you were gonna wear your Catfish and the Bottlemen shirt but you split coffee on it when you were headed out your door so you had a last minute costume change. Your bright red hair was pulled half up and half down and fell past your shoulders in ringlet curls. The shop was empty at the moment sort of an afternoon lull. You sat at the register listening to the alternative music pumping through the speaker hung all around the shop and playing with your hair when four very familiar boys walked in. It was non other then CATB, your heart started pounding out of your chest. You kicked yourself for spilling your coffee now that you knew you could have gotten your shirt signed. Even though you were nearly bouncing with excitement you had to stay professional, so you decided to remain at the cash register until they needed help and then you would ask for a picture. You tried your best not to stare.

Bobs pov

The boys and I walked into an old looking record shop that Bondy wanted to visit, It had a good atmosphere. I followed Van over to the  section (he was looking for any vinyl by the streets) When i saw a beautiful red head out of the corner of my eye. She made me do a double take, Benji noticed and nudged Bondy. “You should go say hi” Bondy said now drawing Vans attention to the situation. “If you dont I will” Van said now staring at the unknown girl, I just shrugged and started to fidget. “No Bob saw her first, sorry man” Benji said before winking and pushing me toward the girl.”Err no i...” I started to say but it was too late, The girl looked up saw me coming and sweetly said “Im Y/N, how can I help you today?” she seemed a bit nervous it was cute maybe she knew who i was. “Oh uh...Do you have anything by the 1975?” I asked for the first band that came to mind that was not my own, that would have seemed pretentious. “of course, come with me!” she said cheerfully then left her station to lead me through the records. When she walked past me she slightly brushed against me and i noticed her hair smelled of strawberries, what a perfect smell for such a pretty red head. 

Y/N pov

I couldn't believe I was leading Bob Hall to look at records, I wanted to squeal I was so happy. I must have been smiling ten miles wide. “Here we are.” I gestured to the albums “Can I help you with anything else?” I asked as professionally as possible trying not to giggle. “Uh...no i guess not” he answered very quietly. “Okay... I know you are probably trying to relax but i am a huge fan of your band, could i get a quick picture?” Asked taking my opportunity. He sort of lit up and said “Oh yeah no problem! Do you want me to hold our camera?” You nodded and handed him your phone set to the front facing camera, he held it up and took a nice photo of the two of you. “Thank you so much! I hope this was not too much of an inconvenience.” you said shyly. “none at all, I love yo meet fans.” Bob said making you feel much better about asking. “you are by far my favorite drummer” you said gaining a bit of confidence. Bob blushed and thanked you before the rest of the boys walked up smiling and joking about something with one another under their breath. “Find anything you like Bob?” Van asked with a wink making Bob blush even harder. “Yeah...” he said grabbing a 1975 record and shooting Van a funny look. “Well is everyone ready to get rung up?” you asked and the boys nodded. Back at the register you checked everyone out (Bob in more way then one) he went last, when you went to hand him his bag he blurted out “Wanna come to our show tonight? I can get you in.” You just looked at him for a second before shaking off the dumbfound feeling and saying “Yes! It sold out so quick I couldnt get a ticket, you are a life saver.” He asked you for your last name “So I can give it to security that way they will let you in.” You gladly gave it to him. “you will be able to come backstage after too, you know to see what its like” This last statement made you lose all professionalism and you began to hop up and down, red curls bouncing with each jump. “Oh my God im so excited, can I hug you? Or is that too weird?” 

Bobs pov

She wants to hug me... “sure hug away” I said extending my arms. She was warm and her hair was soft, the hug only lasted a few short seconds before she pulled away. I could have stayed hugging her all day. “Well i will see you tonight” She said still bouncing, it was very cute. “yeah see you then, do not work to hard.” I said regretting the last part immediately after it left my mouth, i didnt want to sound cheesy. “Oh I wont, my boss will be lucky if he can get me to focus for the rest of my shift hahaha.” she said with a laugh, she had a lovely laugh. I waved goodbye and walked out the door with the boys, I was nervous but also looking forward to what the night would hold. This was definitely the best visit to a record shop that I ha ever been on.

This was my first requested fic! i hope you like it!           

#catfish and the bottlemen #bob hall #fanfic #fanfiction

[wot-tidbits]

Three years of the good and the absurd.

For these three years I have seen and received the good and the absurd. This post is about the absurd part of my experience with the fandom. I want to show you something. I want to show you my true face which has been seen by some members of the UAF in the last three years but it was kept secret among a selected few. Till now. Here are some quotations regarding my persona. I hope you will enjoy it as much I did.

Note: Narg = wot-tidbits

“They exist in an abyss of being Narg Therin, they couldn’t source if their life depended on it”

“it started as something someone made for the community to be nice, to periodically make posts but they forgot to write the code to allow it to source stuff and through its arguments it has gained sentience. “

“wot-tidbits is just a ball f irony”

“It just looks like he's having a low traffic week and is looking to stir things up a bit.”

“The guy's got a biger hero complex than I do and that, my friends, is saying something.”

“wot-tidbits is a mess tbh”

“Person 1: does anyone know why Narg also goes by LightOne? it's always struck me as rather pretentious

Person 2: Because they're pretentious?

Person 3: I suppose the answer might actually be that simple.”

“Person 1: You can't even claim he uses emotion to fight against logic, pfft.  he just uses... not-logic, by the sounds of most of what I've read and seen

Person 2: He wants attention with the least amount of effort

Person 3: He just wants to be a content-producer and will do anything he can to put stuff in the WoT tag. Even if it's trash and nobody wants it.”

“tidbits is a dick”

“breaking news: wottidbits is trash”

“Person 1: oh gosh, Narg's a butt

Person 2 : Let's forget he even exists”

“yall don't even know how much I want to hurt wottidbits right now”

“Don’t bother with arguing with Narg. They don’t listen. Honestly, the only reason they’re so well followed is because it’s easier for lazy people to wait for Narg to reblog something than actually hunt down the writer/pay fucking attention to the tag.  They’re basically an agrigator.”

“sounds like a dumb child. he's probably 13”

“im gonna go shower and wash myself of the filth that is Narg's shitty opinion”

“oh my god wot tidbits is a mess”

“this jerkface influences a lot of people”

“I don't even want to acknowledge wot-tidbits anymore. I don't want the fandom to develop any schism. But it's inevitable and I don't support him.”

“He sounds so... conceited. So pigheaded. So woolheaded.”

“(he’s) super ignorant and has no udnerstanding of human interaction nor how to construct arguments in a meaningful way other than throwing mud and being a whiny pissbaby”

“stubbornly blind”

“Crazy bastard.”

“Narg is trying to make himself out to be the only rational party here, because otherwise he'd lose his big following. At least some part of it, anyways.”

“such an amazing child he is”

“ ‘Do you really think that if a person wants to go deep in the fandom, they are going to miss this blog [wot-tidbits] at the end?’

We can only hope.”

“since when are we associating narg with the word intelligent except as antonyms”

“NARG YOU FUCKERS I WILL KILL YOU”

My note : Some days later the same person wrote to me a message about my hint for a death threat: “I'd also like to say if anyone has told you to kill yourself or anything of such the sort they are not welcome in this fandom.”

I hope it is not necessary to state explicitly that I wasn’t bothered by this so called “death threat”. It is about the amusing irony of the contradiction above. I love such beautiful irony.

So these aren’t anonymous’ messages sent to me thinking that they cannot be identified. I know exactly who said every single line above. First of all I am not bothered for all the labels and shading thrown at me. If I wanted some sort of revenge I wouldn’t keep them a secret on my laptop for so long (most of the quotes are written in 2015). And I still keep the identities secret. I “exposed” them not to show how grumpy I am but to show that I knew what was going on since day 1. I knew and I didn’t do anything when the time for reaction would be perfect.

The next quote is a good example:

“They very rarely reblog shit from me. >_> I always thought it's because most of my meta is focused on less mainstream characters (because for some inexplicable reason they don't seem to harbour any kind of grudge against me)…”

Yes, then and even today I still don’t harbour grudges for all the misunderstandings around me. I am not personally offended despite all of the above. I still want united fandom. I am still ready for civilized conversation. I put my love and dedication about WOT in front of my ego. That’s it.

Let the Light keep you safe.

LightOne

#my post #unreasonably attractive fandom #the unreasonably attractive fandom

[larksinging]

☃ ☂ for nyssa, ☘ ⍤ for ivypool, ☼ ❀ for maive!

nyssa

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one?

nyssa prefers the summer, if only because she grew up in a warm environment and so she prefers warmer seasons. plus, she’s an edgy assassin, i’m sure she enjoys the more outdoorsy past times of summer. as for least favorite... i’m gonna say spring, since she’s from the arrowverse, and there’s ALWAYS some bullshit happening in the spring. but no, really, she might not like it because it’s a weird frantic edge where everyone flips out because winter’s over, but it hasn’t settled into the stready warmth of summer yet.

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

hmm, she’s pragmatic about it. rain can provide good cover for moving stealthily, as it obscures a lot of the senses. she’s had to utilize the cover of rain too many times to have a personal opinion or dislike of it or anything. then again, i feel like the league and their cult of death would have some pretentious reflection on rain as giving life and adding to a cycle they help balance yadda yadda yadda. 

ivypool

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

she believes in luck as much as the next person, really. she’ll say it’s bad luck if you miss a catch or something, but she doesn’t believe strongly in it. 

fate, on the other hand, yes. she’s a warrior cat, and a starclan believer at that. fate is... a huge part of her culture, it’d be hard for her not to believe in it. but at the same time, she’s been on the short end of the stick of fate (she is the example of what happens to the every day person who ISN’T picked to have a grand fate). so while she believes in fate, i’m not sure she liked it. it’s... weird for fight cats, you know? she believes in fate, but she’s not happy with it. 

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep?

okay i’ll just say my hc is pretty similar to the voice they assigned to her in the ready as i’ll ever be map, so 

her voice isn’t super high, but it might be a little higher than you’d expect. it’s not... gravelly, or anything. rich and solid, more like. when she’s really emotional it can get a bit sharper or thinner, and definitely drops into a growl when she’s pissed, but it’s got a certain smoothness that can be commanding when she needs

maive

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

since i cant find a clear answer about modern wolves, im gonna say her breed is more naturally crepuscular, so... there you go! she’s more inclined towards dusk/dawn or night, since it could get pretty warm in the middle of the day where she lived. but on denny, she doesn’t have too strong of a preference. but still i think she tends towards being crepuscular, because it seems useful enough. then again, she’s also a legend, and what... does time even mean for them. 

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

this may sound surprising, but she loves them! thats because they were popular in her pack. when you’re a sophisticated society of wolves, you find ways to make due with scavenged objects to serve as luxury items. stray feathers, pretty shells, shiny rocks, large skulls... those are all prized as decorations. flowers were good temporary accessories, so a flower crown is kind of the equivalent of like... a necklace, or a nice outfit. not literally, since she understands the concept of jewelry now, but it was wolf jewelry. so a friend giving another friend a flower crown has different connotations to maive than it does, say, us. it’s like offering to do your friend’s makeup! 

#denny is a cursed place #thanks! #numinousbones