#artist friendly interview

[faithfromanewperspective]

the western sydney work ethic, mental health, burnout, inequality and ableism

inspired by ashton irwin on artist friendly with joel madden and 17902 sustainable urban development at the university of technology sydney

I’ve teased the idea of writing this post for a while now, and now I’m sitting in my borrowed bed in Sydney with the graphs and maps from my course still at the back of my eyelids and still processing the Vibes of catching up with my childhood friends and wondering if it’s too early to go to bed if the sun’s still up—it’s time to let it out. Because I found a bunch of seemingly unrelated things and put them together in a way that helped me process my upbringing and the way it’s positioned me as I go through life even now.

For background of this post, the Greater Sydney metropolis has a very stark rich/poor divide, where a large strip from the west going to the south of the city have been left behind in a variety of ways. In my uni course I see the maps on income, education level, job overqualification, crime, violence… they’re nice and set out, and they validate what I already intuitively knew—just like everyone who grew up in the area I’m going to refer to vaguely as Western Sydney. These graphs put words to something I’ve lived when I was too young to process it, something I hear the impacts of in 5 seconds of summer’s songs like I’ve never seen in any other art ever.

I know many people relate too and I don’t want to say you have to be from Western Sydney to get it. There are plenty of other places with similar trends, but this strip of suburbs, half a city, is where I grew up and the case study I’m going to use for the phenomenon I’m going to describe in this post.

Having spent the last decade and a bit in a more conservative, more sheltered area of suburban Brisbane, where people take it slow and at least attempt to have fun without getting completely wasted; where people have high expectations for their lives and livelihoods they never quite meet and where they’re the kind of emotionally aware that you hear all about how stressful that experience is: this was the backdrop of my teens and young adult years to this point. It’s where I learned about mental health and neurodivergence and ableism and where I really explored what faith and spirituality is to me. It’s where I never quite felt comfortable when people were too polite, where I poured all the belief they had in me as a gifted kid plonked into that environment I wasn’t native to into the delusion that I could deconstruct the unequal education system of their own creation if I only worked harder than anyone had ever worked before. Then they would finally listen. It’s where I tried and tried to get help for my mental health and wasn’t listened to either, not when I presented so well and was simply unable to unmask until I was unable to mask at all. Where the slightest bit of hope caused me to forget everything that was hurting me, making it a struggle to work through even to this day. where I wondered if I was some superhuman for the fact that I can work my ass off without even realising it’s hard work, a smile on my face and arms open for connection as always (the mark of health they say) while being desperately unwell, hurting, thinking I had it good compared to some of the people I’d see crumple under the pressure, I should be kind to them (not understanding why I found them so, so relatable).

I am not a freak of nature, or superhuman, though I am neurodivergent and twice-exceptional. I am the product of my upbringing and my ancestors. I carry generations of culture from hectares of foreign lands my ancestors made their homes on (ethically questionably in some cases I do acknowledge) and became part of the ecosystem of. It is, like most difference, a gift and a curse. Something that makes certain measures of ableism not apply to me, but creates others in their place. I’ll get into this more later.

in the strip of suburbs united by demographics we call Western Sydney, farmers from the notoriously difficult land of the Murray-Darling and immigrants from everywhere on the planet, some Indigenous but few Indigenous to Australia, make up classrooms, neighbourhoods, workplaces. Think I Am Australian by The Seekers, but just the verses, as a snapshot of some of the stories representative of the people. Interwoven in the landscape. We celebrated Harmony Day on the 21st of March in my primary school. Everyone had a different cultural background. We heard different languages spoken on the street. There were stereotypes. There were scared people trying to find their tribe, build a life in Australia, away from the larger scale farms, get their kids a good education to do a trade or go to university. Fear and angst and hurt coexisting with an appreciation of the juxtaposition of others you’d never head admitted out loud. But the second verse of the Australian national anthem was written just for us, or might as well have been. Beneath our radiant southern cross, we’ll toil with hearts and hands… google the lyrics, you’ll get it, you’ll see why I wish the rest of Australia did too: for those who’ve come across the seas, we’ve boundless plains to share, with courage let us all combine to advance Australia fair…

No one with the power to acknowledge this I interact with these days remembers the second verse. Except 5 Seconds Of Summer, in their ridiculous little promo videos, who I’d bet the rubble that’s left of my parents’ old house as the new owners turn it into a mansion because Gentrification, have no idea of what a meaningful gesture that is.

I can feel the wounds of being torn from the good parts of that experience closing over. And so it’s time to give the often forgotten stories on an often forgotten piece of land that made me and also these four wonderful humans who we are today, the credit it deserves. Start by telling our stories.

One thing I love about Artist Friendly is it cuts straight to it. Joel Madden is just incredible like that—in a world coming out of the 2010s pop decade of dancing while the room is on fire (bloodhound, 5sos) put your rose coloured glasses on and party on (Katy Perry’s chained to the rhythm) (these I would consider more analytical quotes of the era, one whose vibe was ‘forget all the pain in the world, let’s party and sing about how horny we are’ which for all my cynicism I did find fun)—he kept up his punk edge, kept investing in new musicians, searching for and investing in what’s real. He also really loves Australia, and when you put our underdog-supporting attitude next to Good Charlotte’s songs you understand why. Anyway, the episode pretty much opens by him asking Ashton about his background, and relating from the perspective of working-class-emotionally-unavailable/immature-parents-who-showed-their-love-through-provision-and-really-did-try-to-be-there-but-had-none-of-the-resources. I like the positive take. It’s high time we stop being classist and ableist towards the people who’ve met our needs as much as they were able, but it still wasn’t enough. Who taught us how to take opportunities, work to prove our worth, and through it all couldn’t even afford therapy.

I used to think my family was rich because we lived in Australia and my parents had gone to university. Never mind the fact that I was born when they were barely older than I am now. Never mind the mould in the walls or sneaky Tuesday night washing of the school uniforms in the summer when we got sweaty and there weren’t any spares or the mismatched bargain bin clothes we wore or the bedroom I shared with my sisters. I knew the people I compared us to. And now I do really believe if I’d grown up a bit less frugal or even a few k’s out of the area I did I wouldn’t be who I am. I wouldn’t have the perspectives I have, nor would this podcast episode have me feeling so seen. Like, yes I lived a bit further into the city than these guys, close to the train line without any farmland where the house values shot up seemingly overnight and meant the area I grew up in is experiencing a very weird disparity as two cities collide within it today. But we grew up in the same era in western sydney, we grew up loved and knowing that was a privilege and we grew up knowing from a very young age we had to spend our whole lives working hard if we wanted life to be manageable and we better be polite and better not ask for too much.

yet we also grew up with hurt. From the trauma we inherited from our caregivers as we encountered the attitudes and fears with which they faces the world. From what we saw our peers go through much too young to be able to draw boundaries with the empathy we felt too much of and understood nothing of. From broken family relationships that were all too common. From religion that hurting people used to cause or at least stagnate hurt instead of healing.

when I was burning out and struggling as an unrecognised neurodivergent I used to wonder why my father would place such value on the Protestant work ethic when Jesus died exactly so we wouldn’t have to strive. And I acknowledge that the PWE is harmful to many disabled folk or literally anyone who has experienced the demands of life and had their stress invalidated for it. Including myself. But never having the expectation of a life of ease and luxury? I do appreciate that. It’s given me a whole different metric for how I view life, one none of my friends except those who are from those years of my life understand. No one in Brisbane or my online international friends seem to get it. But I’m sure when you see yourself in this post, that some of you will (we might be the largely unheard minority but I’m sure we exist. Joel Madden is proof of that). It’s given me a differently calibrated emotional pain scale in many ways. Different standards for when the warning lights come on (and I’m very perceptive of angst and disappointment and always see them in others to be worse than they are because of it). And when I look at everything this band has accomplished, I know it’s the same for them.

I have spent a lot of time these last years advocating for neurodivergent acceptance. I’ve done so in a way that made sense of the decade previous, of existing in a world of inequality I’ve always been so sensitive to and of expectations that I took on as opportunities (because what else have I been trained to do)? And yet so much of it is about funding and resources. And when there isn’t that? You make room for my favourite thing ever: grassroots, unofficial but beautifully organic loving neurodivergent affirmation. Plenty of rural folks, my grandparents included, hate labels, prefer focusing on strengths and equipping young people based on those than accommodating difficulties. They’re often seen as conservative, bigoted, ableist, and some of them are. But they bring with them an important lesson about how to live with the realities of the economy that they struggle in too, too much to support someone else. They don’t have the same impossible expectations of their neurodivergent progeny and protegees and community members that many who hold in their heads an idea of perfection they hope to bring to their families do (the kind of things sometimes only a diagnosis can free someone from, and nothing from the memory and shame of) and that—that is an important attitude for all of us to have.

Some people are unconventionally neurodivergent affirming while knowing none of the terms, or maybe trying to hold off using them because of the same economic and confidence reasons I’ve tried to unpack. Some rely on simple kindnesses and explanations that centre around possibility, and go nowhere near deficit. Some people know intuitively or through hard life lessons themselves (usually the latter) the value of stripping all but essentials from the functionality of everyday life. Not making it any harder than it is.

Of course you can drum on the tables in math class. My son is a musician, I get how it is.

Liz Hemmings is the only valid neurodivergence parent—I’ll say no more, it is how it is

Sometimes when we advocate for things we have to be aware that the way the dominant in-power often wealthy culture has figured it out isn’t always the best way to do things. Environmentalism is a prime example of this. This is why we need brown environmentalism and to decolonise and listen to our Indigenous stewards and share power.

You can take a lot of lessons from a place that’s as culturally diverse as Western Sydney. And you can see how a work ethic is facilitated, rather than gatekept. You can see why Ash, when asked by Joel if he’s scared of every getting back to that life (ref to poverty) his attitude is actually one of gratitude and almost reverence for the place that shaped him, that brought the band together and everything that came from that point forwards. That shaped their attitude and birthed the grit that got them through being on tour with one direction and I don’t think he said it but in Ash’s case I bet the empathy he has for the fans and the way he just wants to connect and create a fun experience but also one where we’re deeply seen by moving songs is because he knows what it’s like for so many people. You can’t not if you grew up like we did. You can see why Luke at any chance will say ‘we’re from Sydney Australia’. It has a way of sticking to you, the rich culture that’s a patchwork of orphaned cultures, the way everyday life is like one of those adventures you emerge from with strong bonds usually only found in fantasy novels. You can see that the band is proof that those bonds exist in real life.

after a decade and a bit pretending I know what leisure is and how to have fun without Bad Angst I’m glad that this proof is still in my life. I’ve still got close friends from primary school and few can boast that (we might not quite be Calum and Michael in that regard, but they still have other friends from primary who they’ve kept in touch with despite geographical separation as I have).

Now I’ve acknowledged this and traced the strings that are much easier to see when my own life is mirrored in a podcast episode, maybe I can find the good among the cultural dysphoria in the circles I do have in Brisbane, and do value still for what they are even if they’re not quite the same. Now that I can see how a world of too many opportunities and not enough freedom can burn someone out who came from this background, with the type of brain that flourishes on being a latchkey kid and sketchy hangouts with deep conversations and questionable substances but crumples under expectation and too much choice and politeness, I can put my life back together in a way that validates who I am and where I come from, rather than what those around me tell me should be good for me.

as, I can tell by this interview, these guys have. I want to be able to talk about suffering without people acting like it shouldn’t be something we can comfortably say out loud, as Ashton does here and through music. My art isn’t quite the same, but the purpose behind it is so, so similar. I relate a lot to the importance he places on spirituality, even if I’ve tried to do something with Christianity that it, in the mainstream at least, isn’t built for and probably can only partially do on its own. Maybe the epitome of humility is being able to learn from other religions and see them as gifts from God even as, and I include Christianity here as well, anything can be dangerous if used in a way that it wasn’t meant for: anything with power to heal has power or hurt too. I’ve got so much respect for how Ash does it. I think this episode really cemented for me that, and I feel like it’s something we as a fandom don’t talk about enough because of their characterisation (and fair enough, if you’re famous you don’t want people dissecting every part of you, and I’m not going to do that just give a generalised compliment): these guys are so incredibly resilient and intelligent and invested in creating healing and they’re really fucking good at it. They might present themselves as goofs with one braincell that create bops and fan over other celebrities as if they themselves aren’t famous too, but so much of that is humility and them baring themselves in ways that are sustainable and really emotionally mature (for the most part) to be relatable to us as fans and invest in making that connection genuine. They’re not pretending, because they understand how it is to be human.

and you don’t get there by being some sort of Untouchable Philosophical Genius Figure. you get there because you’ve lived in community and you’ve survived hard things because of other people who’ve done similar and created authentic art too. You get there often because you have to: because putting on a fake show and doing stuff for likes and popularity was never going to work and will only screw you up in the long run and you’re worldly enough to see that from a young age and learn from your own intuition and empathy and experiences. You get there because you lived your whole life being resourceful and being street smart and doing what it takes to make good decisions and invest in yourself (who else do you have who’s worth more than that) and your future. Doing what it takes to make sure you’re alive to learn how to do better at things you’re behind in that might keep food on the table in the future, because there’s none of that oh-it-won’t-happen-to-me attitude. That part is very sustainable which I love. I also really really relate to it and have found it something I would get complimented on when I was younger, too young to be so mature. But I never attributed it to myself. I knew somehow, abstractly, I was disabled and nearing my limit and everything I do I did so I could survive. It’s the western Sydney work ethic.

and yet this often beautiful phenomenon has its ugly side. If you know you’re neurodivergent even without the words—more often than not the only people you see who you relate to are those who didn’t make it, who fell off the horse of functionality and into things like addiction and other things that exacerbate the inability to empower yourself. You figure that when you’re honest with yourself you’ll be dead by 25. Sometimes you give up on trying to prevent that and wonder if it’s even worth it to attempt to keep going: is your life really worth that effort?? What I’ve described is a combination of the experiences of many people I know, aspects of it are mine, and aspects mirror things I know these guys have mentioned about themselves (I’m going to leave it at that vague level of detail). You wonder why people believe in you, is it only because any other option is unmentionable? But what if you let them down like you know (fear) you will? And burnout is the epitome of this: the need to let go of trying. And without a decent amount of privilege it’s impossible to return from.

I’ve been there and scrounged at straws of privilege I do have, pretending I’m doing my job to the level that others expect while letting go of every expectation I have on myself. Still problem solving outside every box on how to get back on my feet because I know nothing else, radically accepting that I might not and whittling down all my needs in life to the most essential, that I might still survive even at my limited and diminishing capacity. While always relating to those our society sees as failures. I’ve borrowed from other cultures that aren’t my own to have a stubborn sense of worth while trying to keep afloat in a society and economy that says it’s conditional. My spirituality comes in here, as do my problem-solving skills: again, maybe this culture fears burnout more than anything, but maybe it has half a toolkit on how to get out of it. Only half. I have to pair it with what I learn from others too.

and even through that, I’m immensely privileged to have savant skills and a generally able body. Just like when you make it big as a musician you’re privileged by that. Against a backdrop of I’m-nothing-special. I’ve always struggled with questions of my felt worth, because I’m so conscious of my privilege and ability that sometimes I get the two muddled (though I know my ability doesn’t define my worth in things I do poorly at, and my persistence technically doesn’t either but I’ll be damned if I don’t try and try and actually find doing badly more validating of how I see myself than when I do well, so I chase it again and again, my dad is the same, it’s what makes us so adventurous). I understand the consciousness of things that are going well not lasting, and pouring creativity for new ventures into things like selling candles. Instead of letting achievements make me believe I’m someone more important than I am, using them as ways of giving myself space to do whatever’s next, dial off the pressure a little bit.

I understand appreciating others’ sensitivity and the social capital they bring everywhere rather than their material wealth or achievement and when Ash praised Calum for that and said it made him look bad I felt that. Both the experience of being that counter-cultural person who doesn’t give a shit about money but values connection so, so much more (and from all I’ve written, you can see why, can’t you) to still never being able to be as good a person as I see the need for in the world.

I understand missing family and constantly grieving that, as I weigh up the city of my childhood with the friends and culture I love versus the city of my youth with my feathered family who are my children and who I hate to miss birthdays of and the like, same goes for my sisters and parents and grandparents, the way Ashton, the only band member with younger siblings, hates missing all their milestones too. I feel privileged that Brisbane and Sydney are so close to each other and nothing in my life is as far as Los Angeles. I understand the nostalgia for Sydney. This whole post is proof of it.

I understand the unbreakable bonds between people who make this kind of art together. I understand putting disagreements on the back burner and realising the connection through writing is so much bigger and the connection can overcome whatever is going wrong. Heck, I feel privileged to understand and relate to how such brilliant brains work (nature: neurodivergence I won’t go any further into as well as nurture) as well as the environment that made them what they are.

all my life I’ve longed for that kind of community and connection I’ve seen largely in fiction, sometimes between people in real life. And I think having written this analysis (it’s taken me til my bedtime or later) I do have all the ingredients there. All the ability to make it, both in the practical way I relate to and am there for my friends and whatever I do in my silver bridges tag. In the neighbourhoods I eventually design that foster communities with all the good parts I’ve described but without the inequality and minimal poverty and hurt and violence. To everyone who’s shown me these things in myself that are so worth working for and I know I’m not savantly immediately good at, I am so so incredibly grateful. the city as a whole. My family and friends. The celebrities I grew up nearby and those who invest in people like them. People like me. May I keep investing in people: people like you. because what is humility but knowing there’s always something to learn, and what will bring all of us forward but learning it and putting it into practice in love and empathy that drives a grit that no amount of striving for striving’s sake can manufacture?

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Starbucks is HOME. I showed up for my interview and a barista gave me a Free Drink. The interviewer was a touch late so I was just vibing, and that same barista brought me a cake pop because they accidentally made an extra. The interviewer is gay. I think everyone that works at Starbucks is a little bit gay. I love it there.

[jasonaaronpro]

Lux & Ivy: Sustainable Fashion and Local Artistry in the Heart of Indy

Explore Lux & Ivy's world of sustainable fashion and vintage treasures! Owner Sara Baldwin chats about her eco-conscious mission and participation in the upcoming Sustain Art & Music Festival. Don't miss this insightful segment!

Join IN the Loop TV show and Renée Michelle Merrifield as we explore Lux & Ivy, a one-of-a-kind vintage and sustainable fashion boutique nestled in the vibrant Monon area of Indianapolis. Meet Sara Baldwin, the passionate owner of the shop, who shares her dedication to sustainable fashion and supporting local artists. Discover how Lux & Ivy is making a positive impact on the community, and learn…

[janovavalen]

✧when social media calls so does the questions || walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: after fans have created more and more of a scene with y/n l/n and walker scobell they are asked about it in their first interview together.

warning: friendly reminder the people/faces i use are just for the aesthetic ofc imagine it’s you bc we’re on that level of delulu<3

as they day went by y/n sat in her hotel room with her dressers, makeup and nail artist all around . this was probably one thing y/n enjoyed about being who she was and doing what she did.

she got to say there while people made her look pretty at the amazing work they did on her. however, though some of the dresses and suits she had to wear were sometimes out of the ordinary or just tight in general, they always made sure to capture her natural color and make her outfits look beautiful on her.

today y/n would be getting interviewed after she got ready—so was aryan, leah and walker of course. she was beyond nervous, exited? but definitely mostly nervous. she hated when she had to sit in front of a camera—well, it came more naturally when she was acting because she wasn’t really being herself.

but when it came to being interviewed, she was half of the time being told what to say, monitored at all times and some other genuine answers were cut out. she guessed it would probably be more dramatic for the audience and the interviewer.

‘miss. l/n, your being called’ one of her managers called out to her as she was just getting her last piece of clothing on.

‘oh—okay!’ she called back. as her stylist got her finished up and ready she smiled and thanked everyone who gave her a huge smile back while they waved her goodbye.

but before she could leave, she obviously had to take some pictures.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

the second y/n stepped out of her hotel room was as if on the sam strike as the rest of her friends. aryan, leah and walker came out of their separate room with their outfits on.

leah wore a beautiful dress and her afro, aryan wore a simple green shirt and black pants and walker wearing a black jacket with dark blue jeans.

‘okay why is it only me and leah going all out for these outfits?’ y/n placed her hands out motioning to the fact the boys were dressed as if they were going out on a casual walk and y/n and leah to the met gala.

‘well…talk to my styalist with that because i can’t give you an answer’ aryan commented with a smile as y/n laughed a bit. holding her phone in her hand along with her purse.

walker had subconsciously found himself waiting for her to walk beside him which didn’t go unnoticed by aryan and leah.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as the group walked outside was then the lights began flashing in a hurry. the dark sky around them already causing enough ruckus to other people trying to sleep in the hotel, y/n and the group has stopped to give the crowd what they want.

their pictures.

as they did y/n and walker stood arm to arm. him holding the back of his hand along the back half of her back.

while they smiled, waved, posed and did some silly things out of habit. they finally seen their car was ready, signaling it was time to go, so they all began to walk.

but as y/n did she had felt her shoe get caught on something causing her to stop for a second, walker behind somehow able to feel her presence stopped immediately and looked down to her shoe.

‘oh—wait i got it it’s okay—‘

‘no wait let me help’ walker pulled back and leaned down on his knee to see her heel was stuck on the vent of the ground outside. once he got it out someone yelled—‘it’s like a real life cinderella story!’ causing the crowed to awh and flash their cameras faster.

y/n placed her hand over her mouth and nervously laughed as did walker who placed his hand back against her back and let it hold there as they walked.

when they got in the car they immediately sighed of relief from the outside media not being able to get as good pictures but still tired of course.

‘i don’t think ill ever get over this—the lights might be the cause of me going blind to be honest’ leah mumbled while holding her head in her hands, enjoying the heat of the car in this time of day which was a bit cold outside.

‘yeah, i think we should i hide all night and only take pictures in the day or something so they don’t use pictures’

‘that just gives me even more the reason to stay home, so i’m going along with that plan’ y/n smiled at aryan who laughed.

as they drove to their destination, they all had to take pictures and of course videos for their spam’s and personal cameras rolls for memory’s.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when they arrived to their interview destination, the four of them sat in their chairs.

leah and y/n sat next to each other. walker and scobell seated next to each other—so the order being leah, y/n, walker, and aryan.

‘okay, are you guys ready?’ the interviewer asked with a warm smile, they all nodded their heads and y/n gave a nervous thumbs up as she smiled making walker laugh.

‘okay, we’re on in—3,2,1–‘

looking a bit over at the camera pointed towards her she started—‘hello my name is racheal james and i am here with—‘

‘leah jeffries’ she smiled

‘y/n l/n’ she nervously twisted with her hands—

‘walker scobell’ who gave a smile and soon—‘aryan simhardi’ who waved to the camera.

‘hi! hello, welcome hope things went well as you got here?’

‘uh yeah—y’know, paparazzi, yelling, lights—it went amazing’ walker looked at the racheal who laughed, y/n smiled a bit while she touched a bit of her face as leah and aryan laughed a bit.

‘as usual, as usual—so! i have been dying to ask, how did you guys all get along when you were casted for percy jackson?’

‘uhm, we did pretty good? i mean i came in a bit late since my character doesn’t show up till episode four so i got a bit more time to pack at home but y’know, i think i get along with them amazingly’

‘yeah—i mean, when we all met y/n she was very warm and an inviting person, every funny and so energetic i just love her presence’ walker told while looking at y/n who warmly smiled and placed her hand over her mouth.

‘okay! the two of them!? i can’t! they always do this! it’s constant—‘ leah pointed at the two as she yelled and laughed making y/n and walker nervously laugh.

‘that’s what i was going to say! is it always like that?’ racheal smiled at them.

‘oh my—yes! all the time. on set, at dinner, hang outs—anywhere!’ aryan commented while y/n shook her head with a eye roll and walked just smiled, his face red.

‘okay but wait—so, as you all know, the comments on instagram are going insane over walker and y/n i wanted to ask how do you two feel about it? is it uncomfortable? is it truth or just fans being fans?’

‘uhm….i wouldn’t call them fans just more of very distant friends and family? but im not uncomfortable with it all all—‘

‘yeah no i’m not either, it’s kinda funny and amusing to see everyone piece things together more than some do in the show’ walker shrugged as y/n laughed.

‘ou? so, are you denying or backing up on the rumors that the famous (c/n) and percy jackson may be lovers outside of percy jackson?’

leah immediately looked at aryan who’s eyes snapped to walker and y/n.

the two of them nervously touched their faces while shrugging—‘i—um?’

‘yeah, so…y’know?’ the lot laughed as they watched the two teens nervously try to figure out what to say.

‘okay! i’m sorry i’m sorry to make you uncomfortable! let’s just move onto the next question yeah?’ she smiled while flipping through papers.

y/n placed her hand over her face and sighed deeply to calm herself as for walker who looked at her with a smile and a red warm face.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

about a couple hours later when the interview was done y/n and walker decided to split from the group who had happened to all want to go out to dinner just to hang out.

walker badly wanted to be with y/n but not when she was occupied with the other group, so he pulled her away from the group for a little bit just to talk which y/n didn’t mind in the slightest.

the two of them were standing on the sidewalk as they talked and laughed together.

‘when she asked what was going on in the comments i’m not going to lie i kind of freaked out like i was like—dude what the hell do i say? what do i do?’ walker revealed as he sheepishly moved a bit closer to y/n who did as well.

‘oh my god—same, i was so nervous i didn’t know what i was going to day next to try and recover from that’ she laughed as walker nodded his head in agreement while he placed a small hand on her arm which she didn’t take note of.

after a laugher died down a bit, the two of them stood in a bit of silence as they felt the cold air breeze past them. since y/n wore a outfit that had no jacket, walker had given her his jacket back at the restaurant after seeing cold chills on her arm.

as y/n held her arms with the jacket getting warmer, walker couldn’t held but admire how pretty she looked under the yellow light of the street pole next to them.

‘you looked really pretty’ he smiled as she placed a hand over her mouth to smile widely before placing it back down to her side.

‘thank you…your not too bad yourself’ she teased as he faked a gasp making her laugh. this only prompted him to go after her with his arms around her shoulders as she laughed out loud while he moved their bodies to the side aggressively.

her face being mashed between chest and arm.

‘oh my god! my makeup!’ she cried out with a laugh as he completely ignored her with his own laughter.

once they were done moving he leaned down to give her a kiss on her cheek making the both of them grow warm and red. she smiled deeply while placing her arms around his waist. the two of them embracing each other in the dead of night.

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yourinstagram if you guys don’t know…i’m literally terrified of doing almost anything thanks to final destination

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dior.n.goodjohn dude imagine the cars just blowing up out of nowhere while you guys were driving it…

↳ yourinstagram I WAS IMAGINING THAT THE WHOLE TIME WHILE WALKER JUST LAUGHED LIKE WHATS FUNNY?

↳ walker.scobell IT WAS FUNNY BC U WERE CRYING 😭!?

↳ yourinstagram that was supposed to stay between us.😒

↳ walker.scobell oh. 

iamcharliebushnell that’s insane you thought that while driving the whole time

↳ leahsavajeffries i would’ve just got off at that point 😭

↳ walker.scobell oh trust she tried but i didn’t let her leave me on there alone after i paid for that

user282 AHHH MORE WALKER AND Y/N CONTENT<33333

user200 they’re hand feeding us at this point bc omg😭

user1011 i literally love them sm—DID YALL SEE THOES PAPARAZZI PICS OF THEN CUDDLED UP OUTSIDE???

↳ yourinstagram PAPARAZZI PICS?

walker.scobell

liked by yourinstagram, leahsavajeffries, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansimhardi and others

walker.scobell i think y/n enjoys my phone more than her own phone

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yourinstagram i enjoy your phone bc u have storage 🧍🏽‍♀️

↳ walker.scobell OUUUU so just take all mine? got it got it

↳ yourinstagram DONT ACT FUNNY ON HERE BC U TOLD ME TOO U TOLD ME IT WAS OKAY!?

↳ walker.scobell *gulps*

dior.n.goodjohn LOOK AT MY CHILDRENNNNB OMG

iamcharliebushnell they grow up so fast☹️

↳ walker.scobell why r u guys acting like your nearing your eighties

user111 LOOK AT THEMMMNM OMG GGOGMGMGMGMGM

user1034 they’re cuties

user77 i can’t believe they’re actually together like someone don’t pinch me if this is a dream i don’t wanna wake up from it

↳ yourinstagram awh😭?

↳ walker.scobell okay this is adorable though

walker.scobell

liked by walker.scobell, dior.goodjohn, iamcharliebushnell and others

walker.scobell no comment

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dior.n.goodjohn GET THHHHHHHHHHHH SHHHHH OUT PF HERE OMG

iamcharliebushnell okay but how many times have they hung out without us is the real question

leahsavajeffries alright yall not to much

↳ walker.scobell HUH😭

yourmom i’m so happy you make her happy☺️

↳ walker.scobell awh mrs.l/n

↳ yourinstagram awh mom STOP☹️

yourinstagram that busted up camera ain’t give no promises

↳ walker.scobell that’s what happens when you drop it like thirty times…

user11000 LOOK AT THEM GUYSSSSSS AHHHH

user220 i’m so happy i shipped them the second i saw them on screen together and irl

user1479 the fact they are literally two half’s of a whole is proof soulmates are real

taglist: @callsignwidow

[makingqueerhistory]

Queer Ducks (and Other Animals): The Natural World of Animal Sexuality

Eliot Schrefer with Jules Zuckerberg

This groundbreaking illustrated YA nonfiction title from two-time National Book Award finalist and New York Times bestselling author Eliot Schrefer is a well-researched and teen-friendly exploration of the gamut of queer behaviors observed in animals. A quiet revolution has been underway in recent years, with study after study revealing substantial same-sex sexual behavior in animals. Join celebrated author Eliot Schrefer on an exploration of queer behavior in the animal world—from albatrosses to bonobos to clownfish to doodlebugs.

In sharp and witty prose—aided by humorous comics from artist Jules Zuckerberg—Schrefer uses science, history, anthropology, and sociology to illustrate the diversity of sexual behavior in the animal world. Interviews with researchers in the field offer additional insights for readers and aspiring scientists.

Queer behavior in animals is as diverse and complex—and as natural—as it is in our own species. It doesn’t set us apart from animals—it bonds us even closer to our animal selves.

[heritageposts]

🍉 Bashar Murad - MASKHARA بشار مراد مسخرة

From a 2021 interview with Bashar, where he explains some of the choices behind his music video for Maskhara:

[...] Meanwhile, the coffee cup reading is a metaphor of family expectations, and the pink outfits, the pink lighting and filters, and pink roses stuffed into a military tank are a nod to pinkwashing – the promotion of the queer-friendliness of a political entity to distract from human rights abuses. As a gay Palestinian himself, the latter hits close to home. In 2019, Bashar attracted global headlines through his involvement in Globalvision, an alternative concert that was livestreamed simultaneously with Eurovision in Tel Aviv – which had been plagued with pinkwashing controversy. "We didn't get the same number of viewers as Eurovision, but it still felt like we were doing something important," Bashar recalls. "Eurovision is a very queer event. It's also a musical event, so it was not just pinkwashing, it was also artwashing. As a gay artist, it was so important for me to make a statement. "They were also emphasising the fact that Eurovision is not political when it's the epitome of politics. It's different countries voting for and against each other and flags being waved everywhere. "But when it comes to Palestine and our voices, we were shut down. We were told that no, this is not a political event, this is a party and this is a happy event."

. . . continues at The New Arab (5 Mar 2021)

[wip]

just how many official tumblr blogs are there? i just recently found out that this one and changes exists which seems less than ideal

Hey, @limelocked!

Great question! We have, we hope, a great answer for you. First up is a comprehensive list of all of current active staff blogs.

You can find ’em by simply searching each name, + @, in the search bar. (i.e., @action)

@action: Highlighting Tumblr’s long-standing social justice priorities of racial justice, mental health, equality, and beyond.

@art Exploring and featuring original artists on Tumblr.

@artistalley: Supporting local artists on Tumblr by buying directly from their storefronts.

@artistpicks: Monthly curated experience by artists and creators on Tumblr.

@best-of-reblogs: A curated collection of some of the best reblog threads on Tumblr.

@bigweekon: Tumblr’s beloved podcast highlighting recent trends, memes, and more.

@blackexcellence: A showcase of things all Black, all excellent, past and present—literature, fashion, music, historical spotlights, and beyond.

@books: Exclusive interviews and curated content from authors, publishers, and book fans.

@changes: Your go-to for new Tumblr launches, bug fixes, and updates on platform.

@creatrs: A network that connects artists, makers, and builders with brands.

@emporium: The Official Blog of the Tumblr Shop™, run by Brick Whartley back from the Island.

@entertainment: Exclusive content and features from across TV, film, and streaming.

@engineering: Behind-the-scenes work on how Tumblr engineers build Tumblr.

@fandom: Home of Fandometrics, Tumblr’s weekly ranking of entertainment properties.

@fashion: Runways to streetwear and every style in between.

@featured: Featuring exclusive content from Tumblr’s many good, good blogs.

@gaming: Exclusive and curated content across mainstream and indie games.

@getloudr An in-kind ad donation program dedicated to amplifying marginalized voices.

@happytuesday: A blog dedicated to all our Tumblr Tuesdays, posts featuring users based on a weekly theme.

@humans: A blog we use so we can reply in the notes of various posts.

@kpop: Exclusive content and a curated experience of K-Pop on Tumblr.

@labs: A way for engineers at Tumblr to experiment in public.

@music: Exclusive content and features on all your favorite musical artists.

@postitforward: Supporting the community with resources for mental health, self-care, and wellness.

@prideplus: Your home for all things LGBTQIA+ on Tumblr.

@radar: Sharing four pieces of original posts from Tumblr artists per day, hand-curated by our team from across the globe.

@staff: The ultimate source for big news, platform updates, and everything that makes Tumblr, Tumblr.

@support: News, tips, and nerdy details from Tumblr Support.

@tee: A blog from your friendly neighborhood Tumblr user, Tee.

@todayontumblr: Daily curated content around trending topics on Tumblr.

@wip: Dedicated to feedback and questions from Tumblr users to Tumblr staff.

There’s more. For our global audiences, you can find all the localized Staff blogs. They’re linked here!

We also have a carousel in the feed somewhere called “Official Blogs,” but it might be that we need to make that more obvious or provide a dedicated feed or page somewhere.

Leave that last point with us, but we hope that helps! Thanks for your question, and have a good day.

(And a tip of the hat to you, @lizzieonka! Consider them tagged)

Best,

—Caragh, Cates, and Cyle

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 3

Pairing: Professor!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance. Spoilers for the Red Rising Saga by Pierce Brown.

Summary: Having to see Stunna day in and day out is physical torture. So much so that you have to take matters into your hands. However, once Stunna learns that, he has an alternative to benefit you both.

Word Count: 7,193k

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW, I needed this in my life. They're so cute, I can't stand them. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Artists need it for their enrichment.

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @amethyst09 @harmshake @satoruya @theunsweetenedtruth @ciaqui

If there were nine circles of hell, you were most certainly in the tenth. Stunna walked in thirty minutes ago wearing a delicious black outfit. It was simple. A black polo shirt, black slacks, no show socks, and white tennis shoes. He wore a few rings, gold bracelets, and a gold necklace peeked out from his collar.

He was, in a word, completely sexy without even trying. And it was absolutely wrecking you. True to your word, you didn’t wear anything provocative. You didn’t wear dresses or skirts, just a heavy rotation of leggings and graphic T-shirts.

But you thought that he was still checking you out. That you caught little glimpses of him smirking or his eyes roving over you. 

Stunna did not keep his word, however. He continued showing up to class like he was being interviewed for television that day. All of his outfits had been cataloged thoroughly by you and likely by every other person in the class. 

The first week without him was torture beyond compare. The second week felt like your chest was getting cracked open. You saw him a few times a week and you had agreed to not text him. To not call him. And try like hell to not think about him. 

That lasted for about…two classes. Before you were running back to your dorm in the middle of the day and letting your vibrator work off some of those nasty thoughts from class. The vibrator was good but paled in comparison to the size of his massive dick. 

It couldn’t compare to his hands running over you, manhandling you, or to his filthy words whispered in your ear. You looked away from him unless he saw the look all over your face. But just like with everything else, he seemed connected to you on a deeper level.

His eyes found yours and his jaw flexed. You clenched your thighs and shifted in your seat. Catching on, Stunna cleared his throat and moved across the floor towards a podium. He got everyone’s attention.

“I hope you all did the reading assignment because I want you to break into smaller groups and share your thoughts about the latest chapters. We have enough for about three to a group, I’ll let you pick since you’re adults. But please, if you’re going to partner with friends, actually discuss something about the book,” he said. 

That caused a few giggles but your stomach only sank. You didn’t truly have friends in this class. You weren’t the type that was friendly to everyone simply because you were taking the same class.

“Wanna be my partner?” The strawberry blond girl next to you said. You were pretty sure her name was…Samantha? 

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t really. You didn’t want her to spontaneously start talking about Stunna. Sitting through his class was bad enough. But pretending like his initials weren’t sewn into your heart was another level of acting that you weren’t great at.

She had recruited someone else, a boy named Khalil that almost rivaled Stunna in good looks. He was lighter with a fade, strong jaw, and a football player build with big arms, narrow waist, and powerful legs. If you weren’t already spoken for, you’d be crushing on him. As it were, no other guy did it for you now. 

You introduced yourself formally to him and he smiled. His smile was cute. But nowhere near as devastating as Stunna. 

For the next couple of minutes, you discussed the book from the homework assignment. You talked about what you liked and didn’t like about the characters. You heard Stunna moving about the room, checking in with groups and posing challenging questions. 

You dreaded the moment he made it to your group. “What you think about using Reds as an entire labor force? Keeping them ignorant, dumb, and too stupid to see that they weren’t getting any closer to the dream?” Khalil asked.

You turned your head to him, confusion likely flitting across your face. You didn’t mean to be biased, but you hadn’t thought he’d have something intelligent to say. He was as quiet as you and you saw him doodling most of the class. 

He smirked. “I’m not all good looks,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes at the joke and shook your head. “I find it funny that a lot of these sci-fi authors can understand using people for labor is wrong, highlighting the conditions they’re under, and the sheer insidiousness of oppression, but lack any real Black people in their books.” 

“Then again, do you really want the Reds to be Black? They damn sure ain’t gonna have any Black golds,” Khalil said.

You laughed, because sadly that's the truth. The Red Rising Saga was an interesting series, but honestly, adult sci-fi writers bored you to tears. They were so stuffy and too into their own wordy prose that they lost the whimsy. The excitement of exploring a new world. 

You didn’t need to know every single soap at a market when the more interesting story was about the two main characters who had to find common ground. 

Samantha looked completely lost, turning a shade of red that you didn’t think was possible. You stared at her, wondering if she would say anything. You weren’t going to do the work for her or give her an easy out. Khalil seemed of the same mindset as he looked at her as well.

“Well, I find it extremely noble that Darrow did all of this for his love,” Samantha said. 

Coward. “Yeah but in this day and age, are we really still fridging women?” You asked. 

She was saved from answering from a delicious aroma preceding an equally delicious man. Stunna interrupted, leaning against a desk near your group. He asked what you were discussing and you finally lifted your eyes to meet his.

Huge, huge mistake. You could get lost in those eyes of his. Like sitting underneath a dark night sky looking for stars. You smiled briefly at each other before you turned your attention to Samantha who turned a darker shade of red. Seriously, you were starting to get a little worried.

“We were…um…” She faltered as Stunna looked at her. 

Again, jealousy reared its ugly head as she hemmed and hawed her way through a bullshit answer. But you saw the way that she tossed her hair back, batted her eyes. Giggled even though there wasn’t a damn thing funny about the book or your discussion.

“We were talking about the role of women in the book. How Io was fridged and even though there are other women, they are distinctly cold and calculating most of the time. In a society based heavily on Roman culture, it’s a wonder he bothered to put any women at all in it,” you said. 

Stunna leaned back, turning his attention back on you. Whoops. You should have let Samantha fumble through her answer. Or better yet, have Khalil come to her rescue. Black dudes usually did after about five minutes of second hand embarrassment. 

“I’m sure the author would have gotten flack for not including women or sending the dangerous message that women can’t perform in war games,” Stunna said. 

“I’d rather they not do it at all. That’s better than having to sit through ten pages of pining because one of the main girls followed the winning side,” you said.

Just like that, it seemed like you and Stunna were the only two in the room. He listened, which was rare, but he seemed to genuinely think about what you were saying. 

“So say you were there, fighting and trying to win the war games. What would you have done?” He asked. 

You smirked and launched into all the things you would have done differently. The war games funneled down to a rivalry between two men who got personal. War wasn’t personal. Not when one of the qualifying tasks was killing someone and being let out into the wild with the survivors of their matches. 

Stunna listened with rapt attention. You felt like beaming under it. He made you feel like the sun and your body warmed the more he asked more questions. He was clearly the more professional of the two of you, because he included Khalil and Samantha in the discussion as well. 

“Good work, this is a good group,” Stunna said. He moved on to another group, passing by you once more. You gasped as he moved as if it were a physical weight on your heart for him to go too far away from you.

Samatha sighed loudly. “He must think I’m a total idiot. You two were so prepared. And me? Ugh. ‘Um, I think I would have aligned with Darrow’,” she said, mimicking her own voice. 

“Your answers were just as good, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Khalil said. And there it was. Like clockwork. Goodness forbid she put herself down and has to live with it.

“Do you think he would even go for a student? Obviously not someone in his class, that’s wrong. But like…after?” 

Khalil laughed and shook his head. “No, I doubt he’d risk his job for something that stupid. You have thousands of appropriate guys to choose from at this school,” Khalil said. He gave you a look, like he couldn’t believe Samantha was serious. 

You smiled and shook your head. There was no way that Stunna would breathe in Samantha’s direction. Because he was already breathing in yours. Once more, you felt the weight of all that transpired in Punta Cana. 

You had no way of knowing that you were boning your teacher, that couldn’t be held against you. The second time though…you still had flashbacks of getting bent over his couch and possessed. Owned. The way he staked his claim and made sure that there were no doubts in your head. You were sprung, in the worst way, and you didn’t know if you could make it to the end of the week without him. Let alone another ten. 

Class winded down and Stunna congratulated everyone on their ideas and going deeper. Your cheeks burned. You were never going to think about anything else all day.

You had been sitting in a puddle of your own arousal since Stunna walked into the room. You needed to get to your daily sesh as soon as possible. Because the gold gleaming off of his skin was making you drool. You had already cooked up a pretty nasty fantasy in your head and you needed to get it out of your system or risk going crazy.

“I just want to remind you all that my office hours are open. Scheduling is preferred but if you need extra help, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Stunna said. Oh, make that two nasty fantasies in your head.

He let class out and while you packed up your things, Khalil got your attention. “I just wanted to say that I really liked what you were talking about in class. I know people start to roll they eyes when it comes to the role of women in books, but you’re right. Darrow wouldn’t be doing half that shit if his wife was still around,” he said.

“Thank you! I just kept thinking that the entire time I was reading. Like ugh. To be fair, the way she died was horrific as shit. That’d call anyone to drastic action.” 

“See exactly! I..um,” Khalil said and licked his lips.

The class was nearly empty by now. You zipped up your bag and threw the strap over your shoulder. You were nearly bouncing with the desire to get with your vibrator. In a short amount of time, Stunna turned you into a sex fiend. Desperately chasing the high of having him inside you and soaking you with his cum. 

You tilted your head at Khalil. If he didn’t spit this shit out, you were going to run him over. 

“Is everything okay here?” Stunna asked. 

You gasped, feeling caught or exposed. You wondered if your horniness was written plain as day on your face. The way you wanted to climb him in this outfit. You could see his skinny ass ankles and now you very much understood every regency show you watched. That bit of ankle was killing you. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just talking about the book. I’ll, uh, see you later,” Khalil stammered and then disappeared so fast, there should have been smoke on his heels. 

And now you were alone with Stunna. Dangerous. Dangerous territory. 

“He seems nice,” Stunna said with a small smile. 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, opting for a tease. You knew it was wrong. You had no reason to doubt the way Stunna felt for you. But being apart from him was killing you. You had no way of knowing if the time apart made him realize how inappropriate this was. If it was better to cancel the 12 week waiting period and move on. 

The silent gasp stole all the breath in your lungs. Thinking about not being with him instantly made you dizzy. 

“If I was? Would it change anything?” He asked. 

“No,” you said, your voice small as you looked at him. This shit sucked. It sucked, it sucked, it sucked. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to throw your arms around him and hug him at least. Damn. You couldn’t even touch him without risk of it leading to rumors. 

“I miss you,” he said softly. 

“I miss you,” you said. 

You stood and stared into each other’s eyes, a mirror of loneliness and wanting. 

“You don’t have to be jealous. You know that,” you said. 

Stunna ran a hand down his face, looking weary. You hated this. You hated that you couldn’t comfort him. You wanted to hold his hand and walk across the beach again. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that I am. That he’d be more appropriate than I would,” he said.

You swallowed around the huge, dry lump in your throat. You didn’t want to call attention to the elephant in the room. You didn’t want to think about the end. Your anxiety leapt off with all the implications of his words. 

“Are you…saying that we…” God, you couldn’t even get the words out. Tears were already burning and you were not an easy crier. 

“No! Fuck no! Hell no!” He said. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. There were too many conflicting emotions. You needed your brain and heart to line up. Because while you were sad about a possible ending, you couldn’t help admiring the cut of his arms across his black outfit. 

“I bought a calendar to mark off the end of class. You’re mine and I meant that,” he said.

You giggled to cover up how much you were desperate to hear that from him. “Good. Because so did I,” you said. 

He laughed but it ended quickly as you went back to sharing and communicating without words. You ached to ask him what he’s been up to, what he’s been reading. You had a lifetime of his to catch up on and you wanted to know every single detail. But you didn’t have that kind of time. 

“I should probably…” You said.

“For sure. My bad,” he said. He stood up, letting you pass. You smiled at him and took a few steps, that chain connecting you two growing taut. 

“Can you come over tonight? I…miss you so fuckin’ much,” he said. 

“I can’t…” You said.

“I know. I’m sorry for asking. That's not fair,” he said. He nodded and avoided looking at you.

You sighed. You needed to walk away. You needed to think about the bigger picture. If you two slipped, even once, it would spell disaster. All it would take is one person overhearing you, one person asking too many questions, one person catching the way you two looked at each other…

Your chemistry was a physical thing. You felt it every time you looked at him or thought about him. You weren’t sure if it was the same for him. If he felt this all consuming urge to run to you and never let you go. You were sure that his feelings were strong. But how strong? 

Strong enough to survive a public scandal? He just got here. You refused to be the cause of him losing his job, ending up a national joke, or have this following him around for the rest of his career. He was just getting started. You couldn’t stand in the way of that. You wouldn’t. 

Armed with that knowledge, you had just enough self-preservation to leave the room without another word. The shit hurt, like it always did. But then again, you and pain weren’t strangers. You said hello to your old friend, letting the ache wash over you and remind you that this was for Stunna. He would always come first.

“Dammit,” you huffed. You made it one month with no physical contact from Stunna. No text messages or dirty pictures to tide you over either. Just your imagination, horniness, and ole reliable. Until ole reliable stopped working mid sesh.

 You clicked the button but the damn thing was gone. Finished. You really needed to get a rechargeable one but you would die trying to plug that thing in somewhere for a few hours. Stella and Angela would never let you live it down. 

You tossed it on your bed and tossed on the nearest bottoms, a skirt that covered what it needed to. You went looking through your room for spare batteries. You just needed a little more time. You were soaked with sweat already, feeling like the nasty girl Stunna praised in Punta Cana. 

Stunna gave a rare lecture today. Finished with one of the books on the list, he swerved into poetry. He talked about plays as well, Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe. He heard everyone’s groans, thinking Shakespeare was so high school.

But then Stunna had to go on and start reciting some of the words to Romeo and Juliet. He went on about how it really shouldn’t be taught to teenagers. Not because it was too complicated, but because teens needed to do a little growing up to appreciate Shakespeare’s words. 

There needed to be a little heartbreak before it sunk in just how much these two wanted to be together but were separated by circumstance. God. He had the entire class melting with that one. 

You especially. You felt like he was talking directly to you. The pining, the yearning of Romeo and Juliet. There was a reason that story had endured for hundreds of years. There was a reason he had to be the one to teach it. 

“There’s beauty in yearning, isn’t there? Humans love to torture themselves but never more so when it comes to matters of the heart. Unrequited love, loving the wrong person, giving in to things that you know you shouldn’t. Indulging in something so bad but it makes you feel so good. That is why poetry exists. To shine a light on these moments,” he had said and fuck, you wanted to push him down on the desk and suck the soul out of his body. 

You couldn’t get out of the classroom fast enough. Too keyed up. Too horny. Burning with the need to jump his bones but unable to do so. And now your vibrator wasn’t working and there wasn’t a damn battery in the fucking dorm. 

You searched Angela and Stella’s rooms, not finding a shiny fucking Duracell. Does no one need batteries these days? You longed for the junk drawer at home that was always good for one more battery. It was magic and you missed it. 

“Fuck,” you said. You went back to your room, leaning against the doorway. You had a very important executive decision to make. Your next class wasn’t for some time, but you didn’t have that much time. You needed to get off and had a hard time cumming with just your fingers. 

You could walk away, but then…why deny yourself that pleasure? You were already denying yourself riding the tilt-a-whirl on Stunna’s dick and you couldn’t handle these thoughts in your head any longer. 

It was a miracle you made it a month. You made sure not to linger after class anymore. You were weak. You could feel your resolve crumbling every time Stunna looked at you. Every time he spoke, joked, or engaged a different student in a friendly debate, you felt like stripping down, bending over, grabbing your ankles, and letting him have his wicked way with you. Other people in the room be damned. 

Shit. You already answered your own question. If you couldn’t have him, then you needed Little Stunna. Yes, you named your vibrator after your incredibly hot and untouchable teacher and you’d take it to your grave. 

You slipped into flip flops, grabbed your keys and wallet, and headed out of the dorm. You had time. You had time. You repeated this to yourself as you left the dorm building and headed across campus towards the bookstore.

It wasn’t the first time you’d gone commando but you felt like everyone could look at you and see what a horny pervert you were. You felt a spotlight burning into your back, broadcasting that you were just neck deep in a fantasy where you were a confused girl lost in the woods and Stunna was a half naked jungle man helping you find your way, with a pit stop on his dick. 

Listen, Brandon Fraser pretty much ruined you for all other men until Stunna came along. You watched George of the Jungle one too many times. So much so, you had the campfire song from the movie etched into your memory. 

I’ve been waiting for you all my life, hoping for a miracle

I’ve been waiting day and night, day and night

Would there ever be a moment that you didn’t relate absolutely everything back to Stunna? Probably not. 

The bookstore was clean and fresh, somehow giving off an incredible Academia aroma that couldn’t be achieved anywhere else. It smelled like learning. Like school spirit. 

It was blissfully empty and you made a beeline towards the technology section. You scanned for double A batteries, eyes lingering on other stuff. You debated if you should get another pack now or when you needed it. 

You still had three more months to go. “Fuck,” you sighed. Three more months. They might as well tell you that you really were in the tenth circle of hell. You’d believe that an eternity at college, studying the same shit over and over, and staring at your untouchable hot professor was a punishment designed particularly for you. 

Fuck it, you’d come back later when you weren’t a delicate mess at the moment. You couldn’t handle one more fucking thing…

You backed into the aisle and into someone solid. “I’m so sorry!” You screamed, turning around and staring up into Stunna’s beautiful face.

“I’m very sorry, I wasn’t looking,” he said. When it clicked that it was you he bumped into, he immediately stepped closer. His warm hands hovered around your arms like he wanted to steady you but knew he couldn’t touch you.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked. You wanted to die. He was the last person you needed to see at the moment. The absolute last.

You still had images of him in nothing but a loincloth fresh in your mind. Surrounded by dozens of animal pelts. You butterball naked and spread open for him. You rubbed your forehead. This shit wasn’t normal. 

“You don’t seem fine,” he said, lowering his voice. “What are you picking up?” 

You hid the batteries behind your back. You didn’t know if he saw them already, but best to pretend anyway. Pretend that you were here for something innocent and not because you were slutting him out in your fantasies. 

“I got a little bored in between classes and thought I might pick up a book,” you said, totally making that shit up on the fly.

“A book,” Stunna repeated.

“Yup, we are in a bookstore,” you said with a nod, to prove your point. 

“What kind of book?” He asked. He straightened up, clutching his own book to his chest absently. He smirked. You ought to have seen it for what it was and not encouragement to continue with your obvious lie.

“You know that one…mystery author I love,” you said, waving your hand around.

“Really? What’s their name, maybe I’ve heard of them,” he said. 

You looked around for help, but you were at the back of the store. The academic bookshelves were behind him and faced horizontally. You could only see the end caps from where you were and there were no leisure books listed. 

Those were all the way at the front of the store. Fuck. “Brain freeze,” you said and shrugged. You were painfully aware that you didn’t have any panties on, likely still had some of your essence between your thighs, and Stunna was right there. 

He wore a plain olive green shirt, a cream sweater, and light brown pants. Once more his ankles were exposed, and his huge shoes. He looked damn good. 

He checked you out as well, nose flaring at the skirt. He lifted an eyebrow to you. You folded your arms.

“I didn’t think I was going to bump into you. You can’t dictate my clothing choices all the time. I told you to dress like a bum,” you said. 

“I gotta stay fly. What are the batteries for?” He asked. 

Heat flooded through you, making the bookstore swelter even though air conditioning pumped out of the vents. You looked down at your folded arms and the batteries. 

“Remotes. You know, you can’t have too many backups. Those damn things are constantly going out,” you lied again. 

Stunna smirked and stepped forward. He towered over the short shelves. “What’s it really for?” He asked. He said your name and it sounded like both a plea and a demand all wrapped into one. 

“For something I don’t wanna tell you about,” you said. Your cheeks were burning and your stomach did somersaults. It would win the Olympic gold medal four events in a row if it could. 

“Why not?” He asked. He sounded so patient. So demanding. So in control that you couldn’t help the tiny sigh escaping. 

“It’s crossing our line,” you said. 

“Tell me anyway,” he said.

You couldn’t look at him as you finally said, “My vibrator ran out of juice while I was fucking myself with it,” you said. 

The heat of his gaze made your body flush. “You’ve been using a vibrator? For how long?” He asked.

Dangerous, dangerous territory. But you were tired of fighting. Of being good. “Since about the third class,” you said. 

He leaned back, running a free hand down his face. “You really thought a vibrator could replace me?” He asked.

“No! That’s why the fucking batteries are shot to hell. I’ve been using it so damn much, I could be a spokeswoman for it,” you furiously whispered. 

His eye traveled lower to your skirt and the way that you stood with your legs practically crossed. His eyes continued to move and you were starting to get nervous. What was he seeing? What was he putting together in his head? 

“Did you finish?” He asked.

“Stunna…” You warned. You already crossed so many boundaries. You were in public. You were discussing this shit in public, as if you were ready to throw your degree down the tube. Ready to throw his career down the drain before he had a chance to get started. 

“Did you finish?” He repeated, a lot slower and a lot lower. It wrecked havoc on your lower body. 

“No,” you answered. 

“Office. Meet me there in five minutes,” he said. 

He brushed past you before you could say anything else. Before you could list the ways in which this was a terrible idea. Your mind helpfully offered all the ways in which this could go wrong. You stood there for a beat too long, staring at the batteries in your hands. 

If there was a chance for the real thing…no, no, no, one of you had to be an adult about this. Had to stick firmly to your side of the line and not cross it. But you were tired. Weary. Fighting a mental battle every day as well as a physical one. You needed him. You just plain wanted him.

You still bought the batteries because you weren’t that fucking stupid.

You rushed over to his office, pretending like everything was fine. You were not on the way to do something incredibly dumb and immature. But fuck you needed him inside of you. You needed his hands on your ass. Spread open over his desk, chair, couch, or the floor. Wherever. 

You were absolutely an addict for Stunna. You could admit it now that you were on the way to do this. You didn’t know why people continued to lie and say, “It just happened”. No. There was always room for doubt. For second guessing. A moment where you had to stop and use your brain. 

You were using your brain. It was just telling you to, “Ride that dick”! In the English building, you took the elevator to the admin floor where teachers had their offices. It seemed empty, most of the offices open with the lights off. 

You still drifted until you found his office. He was seated behind his desk, looking pensive. You could leave. He didn’t have to know you were here. It was a momentary lapse. Nothing more. 

Before you could back away, Stunna looked up and caught you in the doorway. He stood up, pulling you inside. He checked the hallway before closing the door and locking it. 

“Stunna, you know we can’t…especially not in here,” you said. You widened your eyes. Tried to give voice to all the reasons you couldn’t do this. 

He didn’t respond. He just crossed the room, grabbed your face, and crashed your lips together. 

“I just want to help,” he said. He went back to kissing you, to providing you with the much needed oxygen you had been missing for the past month. 

You moaned into the kiss, dropped your keys, wallet, and batteries on his desk and then hugged him to you. You couldn’t stop your hands from roaming, searching, seeking, and re-learning his body all over again. What made him sigh, what made him hiss, what turned him on. 

You bit his lip and he gasped, moaning. His tongue played with yours. Your teeth scraped together. You never felt more complete, more whole, than standing here in his arms once more.

The month disappeared in your eyes. You were transported back to that night in his hotel room. Like no time had passed at all. You were back in his apartment, two bodies meeting each other over and over again. 

His hands went down to your skirt, but he didn’t push. He toyed with your naked ass, squeezing the globes, and fingers skirting closer and closer to the middle. You shook violently in his arms, dripping with arousal already. 

You’d have thought some ancient beast possessed you and made you a vessel of horniness. You just wanted to be filled up. Connected. 

Stunna pushed you until your butt hit the desk. You sat down and spread your legs. He spread you even further. He kissed down your neck. “You gotta be quiet,” he whispered.

Yeah, right. He kissed down your neck before dropping to his knees. He flipped your skirt up and looked his fill at your glistening pussy. He gave you a nasty wink before he dived in, licking the seam of your pussy lips before finding your clit.

You arched and gasped on his desk. One of his hands came up around your throat, trapping any sound you would make. He used his other hand to drape your leg over his shoulder, opening you up to where he could get all of you.

He suckled on your clit like a starving man. Slurped and licked every inch of your pussy. He dipped his long tongue into you, shallowly fucking you. You gripped the edge of the desk, immediately feeling like you were going to burst out of your skin.

It only took a few more licks for you to burst completely, cumming on his tongue. You made tinny, airless cries and he had to apply pressure to your throat to keep you from screaming out like you wanted. 

You shook and twitched on his desk and he continued eating you out like he wasn’t finished. On the heels of the first, you were plunging right back into a second orgasm. Or maybe this was a delayed continuation of the first. Whichever it was, you were out of breath by the time it ended.

Stunna stood up, wiping his mouth and using his tongue to get the rest off of his lips. He kissed your forehead, leaving a wet spot there that you never wanted to clean. You melted, sighing into him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you said. So much better than your vibrator. 

“I needed it, too. I’m sorry I crossed our line, but that skirt…hearing you been taking care of yourself…” He bit his lip and you wanted to know what the hell he was thinking. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been taking care of yourself. I seem to recall some filthy words about a shower?” You asked.

“The shower, the bed, the kitchen, the table. There’s a lot of surfaces in my apartment,” he said. 

That only thrilled you. That he had been getting himself off to thoughts of you. “Not the same, huh?” You asked.

“Not at fucking all,” he said with a grin. 

“Well…you don’t have anyone coming for office hours?” You asked. You were already here. Already crossed that line. You might as well go for gold. 

“Nope,” he said, a wicked smile crossing his face. Perfect man with his perfect teeth. “We should behave though. These walls are thin as hell.”

“I can be quiet if you can,” you said. You hopped off the front of his desk. You grabbed his hand and led him around it to his side. You pushed him into his chair. He lifted one eyebrow at you, a smirk hovering on his lips. 

“What you got in mind?” He asked. 

You kissed him instead while you freed his dick from his pants. He helped you push them down enough so it wouldn’t interfere. You turned around, wiggling your ass a bit. You looked at him over your shoulder and the look he gave you….rooted you to the spot. 

You were both so deeply in love with each other. You just knew, from the crinkle in his eyes, that you were it for him. And he was it for you. 

You scooted into his lap, legs on the outside of his. You lifted up, grabbed his thick dick, and then slowly slid yourself down on it. You shared a quiet groan as he slid into place, slid right back home where he belonged.

It wasn’t the best angle for riding, but if you rode him cowgirl, you’d have to stare that love in the face. You acknowledged it, but it was still scary as hell. You used the desk to lift your ass and sit back down on his dick. 

Stunna grabbed your waist, helping you along. He cursed softly as he moved you a little faster. You meant to be the one doing most of the work, feeling only slightly guilty that you relied so heavily on his powerful legs to stroke into you. 

But he showed no signs that he was on that same wavelength. He only kissed the back of your neck, softly moaning in your ear. Wretched little sounds that drove your pleasure higher. 

Your mind sunk into a fuzzy comfort as you quickly rode him. “Perfect, fucking perfect. You’re perfect,” he stuttered in your ear.

Your pussy gripped onto him, sucking in the sheer massive size of him. He was thick, for sure, But he was thick everywhere. From the tip to the base, he had a consistent hardness that felt like you were really getting piped down. 

You bobbed on his dick as much as you were able to, both chasing an incredible high. You just needed…a little…

Stunna’s fingers moved forward, gathering up slick, and then played with your clit. His rough fingers flicked that little bundle of nerves until you were shaking and crying. He used his other hand to cover your mouth.

You tried, you really did try to stifle your moans. It was not easy. Not when every part of you wanted to let out a scream to rock the foundation of the building. You wanted to scream for everyone to hear that you were in the throes of a powerful orgasm.

Stunna cursed and then he was joining you, flooding your pussy with his cum. You would never get over the sensation of his hot, pulsing cum shooting out of him. You shivered, pussy clenching around him like it wanted to keep it all inside.

Stunna dropped kisses to your cheek and the back of your neck. “How the hell did we make it a month without this?” He whispered. 

“How the hell are we going to make it another?” You asked.

You fell into temptation. You finally made love to him again and fuck. Your fantasies were severely lacking. You needed to ramp them up. You had to build that wall back up between you. 

“You saying this becomes a monthly thing? Congrats on a month without sex, here’s some head,” he said.

You laughed softly. “I mean…” You weren’t opposed to the idea. You could hide one encounter. You could keep this off campus, at his place, like a dirty secret in the night. At this point, you had no self-respect. Not when it came to Stunna.

“No, no. We have to be good. This was…”

“Perfect,” he said. You giggled while he nibbled on your ear. Fuck, you missed him. Missed being in his arms, filled up by him. 

You wiggled your ass. “Quit playin’,” he said, injecting a level of dangerous warning in his tone. 

You wiggled your ass again. You were playing with fire, but hell, the heat never bothered you anyway.

You turned to look at him and give him a saucy wink when a knock sounded on his door. You froze.

Your heart rate jumped to a thousand beats per second, fingers glued to his thigh. Your stomach turned watery, fear unlike you’d ever felt thrumming through your veins. This was it. The moment you got caught.

You’d look back at this moment as The Moment. The Moment when your life came crashing down. You were literally caught with your teacher’s dick inside you. There was no way this wouldn’t be in the news cycle this very evening. 

You could picture the jokes. Getting Extra Credit. Oh, is that what the kids were calling it these days? A little Hot for Teacher.

Stunna’s hands went back to your waist, squeezing slightly. You looked back at him. His eyes were wide but he looked calmer than you did. He lifted a finger to his lips and you nodded. 

The knock sounded again, and then again before the silhouette in front of his door went away. Neither of you said a word for five minutes straight. 

Stunna was the first to blow a breath. “I think we’re okay,” he said.

You scrambled off of him, removing his softened dick, and then went around the desk. You needed a physical barrier between you at the moment. 

“I’m sorry–” You lifted a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not mad, I-I’m really fucking scared,” you said.

“I know, I’d never put you through this…”

“I’m scared for you, you idiot. If they catch us, you could kiss working here goodbye. You just fucking got here,” you said. Unfortunately, there were no panties to indignantly pull up. 

You were still a bit wet with his cum dripping out. But now you were full of dread and worst case scenarios. 

“Me? Whoa, whoa, don’t worry about me,” Stunna said. 

“How could I not? I–” It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him you loved him, but you weren’t ready for that. Wasn’t sure when you would be. It was scary to love him after a short period, to look at him and know that he was your soulmate. You knew he felt similarly, but soulmate? Would that freak him out? 

Stunna stood up, stuffing his dick back in his pants. He fixed himself and came around the desk, invading your personal space. 

“I’m the one that dragged you here. I’m in the wrong. And if this were to get out, don’t you ever try to protect me,” he said.

“You get to protect me but I can’t protect you?” You asked. 

“No, that’s not the way this works. You protect yourself, always. I’ll protect you,” he said.

You laughed bitterly. “You’re so full of shit. You think I’m gonna stand there and let you take all the blame?” You asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you need to do,” he said.

You scoffed. You grabbed your things off of his desk. “Fuck you, Stunna. I’ll be damned if you fall on the sword for me. I’m an adult. I can make up my own mind,” you said. 

“Don’t you get it? I can’t live with myself if I fucked up your degree,” Stunna said. 

“And I can’t live with myself knowing I fucked off your job,” you said quickly. “This isn’t a game, Stunna. This is your life.”

“You are my life,” he whispered. 

You reared back as if he’d yelled at you. He stepped forward, cradling your head in his hands. 

“I know it’s sudden. I know it hasn’t been a lot of time. I know I’m probably scaring you. I just need you to be okay. I’ve been able to hold it together this past month because I know that in a few months, I’ll have my life back. But not if I jeopardize this for you,” he said. 

“Then how do you think I feel? How could you think that I don’t feel the exact same way?” You asked. 

Stunna kissed you softly, like you had all the time in the world to do so. You didn’t know how long he kissed you for, only that you felt loved and cherished the longer his lips were on yours. 

“We’re just two idiots in love then,” Stunna said. 

You smiled at him, all the wonderful, gooey feelings tangled in your gut. 

“Two idiots in love.”

Need more Stunna? The Secret Big Stunna Files

Part 1 | Part 2

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Believe You, But Tell Me Again

(x)

Summary: Y/N is wondering if Jensen still sees her as he used to.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of fluffy smut. Sexy af Jensen. Rockstar!Jensen. Definitely a warning. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (f receiving), Brief fingering, some slightly insecure thoughts, established relationship. Fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 3,314

A/N: This fic is a request by @lacilou .

I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I can't get this out of my head. Jensen, in the photo you're using for Off and On Again. Where he's super hot, and he knows it. Kinda cocky but totally in love with the reader (established relationship - married, long-time girlfriend??) And reader doesn't understand why he's so into her, but she KNOWS it even though Jensen has to remind her with "Feel this? It's all for you, "while he's holding the reader's hand over his bulge. If you could throw in "this what you want?" while he's slowly stroking himself as he walks towards the reader, lust in his eyes.

I hope you enjoy it sweetie, and everyone else too.

The dividers below were created by @talesmaniac89

The lights were bright, slightly blinding, as Y/N sat in front of the two cameras aimed at her. There were two cameras so they could decide later on which side was her better side. Or possibly her worse side, depending on the tone of the interview. 

Y/N squinted at the primped and stylish woman sitting across from her getting her makeup touched up. She wondered, would this interview be a friendly one? An interview to say, “Look everyone! Aren’t the Ackles great?” Or would it be one of those interviews that had an edge of nasty hovering just beneath the smile of the interviewer. 

She watched this interviewer, Shauna, pull away from her makeup artist, scowling. “It’s fine, Lisa. Just leave it alone.” 

Uh oh.

The interview started off friendly enough, touching on the things most journalists talked to her about - Jensen’s incredible skyrocketing success, his status as a rockstar icon, what a talent he was. As Jensen’s biggest fan, Y/N always enjoyed those kinds of questions. She couldn’t get enough of bragging about her ridiculously talented husband. 

But then the mood of the interview shifted and Shauna started asking much more pointed questions. 

“Now, Y/N, you and Jensen have been married over a decade now, right?” Y/N nodded. “Is there a secret to your success?” Shauna was smiling, but Y/N could see that her gray eyes were calculating.

It was a question she’d been asked a lot in the last couple of years as their ten year anniversary came and went. People seemed very interested in the fact that their marriage had lasted so much longer than had been anticipated. When Jensen had started dating her, just a nobody from nowhere, everyone had predicted it wouldn’t last. 

People on social media and angry people with podcasts all had an opinion on their relationship.

-- She’s not cut out for the limelight.

-- It’s way too hard for someone like her.

-- She’s not used to the media. She’s gonna break under the pressure.

-- He’s a rockstar who could literally get any girl he wanted. So, what’s up with him picking her?

-- It won’t last. These showbiz marriages never do.

But ten years on, now people were wondering how they actually made it to a decade. “What’s the secret?” They all wanted to know.

“There’s really no secret, Shauna.” Y/N said with a smile. “When two people are madly in love with each other, when they respect each other and work together as partners, staying together becomes much easier.” 

It was a variation on the same answer she’d given dozens of times. It happened to be true, but Y/N was still tired of trying to find new ways to explain to people that they got married because they loved each other, and they stayed married because the alternative was unthinkable for either of them.

Shauna smiled a sharp smile. “And in all those years, you’ve never been worried about the rock and roll lifestyle…leading Jensen astray?”

Y/N kept smiling because she couldn’t falter and let the reporter know she’d scored a hit. They weren’t usually that pointed with the infidelity question. Usually they skirted around it, saying things like, “Does it ever get hard when he’s on the road?” or “You must miss him when he’s touring. How do you keep tabs on him?” 

Y/N’s personal favorite version of this question came from a middle-aged woman reporter with lipstick on her teeth. “Have you ever just shown up to surprise him, or tried to catch him being naughty?” It was said with a cheeky grin as though they were just besties chatting, but Y/N had wanted to snatch the woman bald.

Shauna’s version of the question was the closest anyone had ever come to asking her outright, “Do you worry about your husband cheating on you?”

Y/N kept smiling and shook her head. “No, never. If you knew Jensen, you wouldn’t wonder about it either. He’s the most loyal man I’ve ever known, and the most honorable. I know beyond a doubt that he doesn’t take our vows lightly, and that he would never, ever hurt me like that.”

Shauna seemed slightly taken aback by Y/N’s adamant, genuine answer, clearly expecting some anger or some kind of dramatic reaction from her. When she didn't get it, the reporter just smiled again.

“So sweet.” Was her response, acid dripping from her words.

***

The day of interviews had taken quite a bit out of Y/N, especially the last one, and she was tired as she wandered out to the limousine that was waiting to take her and Jensen back to their hotel, whenever he was done with his part of the press junket.

The limo driver opened the door for her and smiled. “Fatima says Mr. Ackles is almost finished and will be out in about ten minutes. Do you want to wait for him? Or should I take you and send another car for him?”

Y/N smiled back and shook her head. “No, let’s wait for him.”

“Okay, great.” The driver said as he closed the door behind her. 

In less than ten minutes, she saw Jensen push out of the double doors, and amble towards the car. He wore black jeans that clung to his thick thighs, and a gray t-shirt covered by a black, long-sleeved denim shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins and corded muscles in his forearms - muscles he’d gained by long hours spent playing the guitar.

As he got closer to the car, she watched him push a hand through his long hair, sweeping it off his forehead, and she sighed deeply. Good God, he was so stunningly sexy. 

Even when he was just walking, he moved with the same seductive grace he used like a siren song onstage. No matter how many times Y/N watched him in concert, she never got used to that kind of magnetic, cocky seductiveness that poured out of him when he was singing. He knew he drove people crazy. He knew it, and it just made him smile.

He was smiling now as he climbed into the car. “Hey beautiful.”

Y/N smiled tiredly at him, feeling her heart warm at his usual greeting. When he settled into the seat, he reached over and pulled her into his lap.

She squealed lightly as he lifted her, and then chuckled. “You know there are seatbelts we’re supposed to be wearing.”

Jensen shrugged and squeezed her tighter against him. “Nah! I gotcha.” 

Y/N laughed again. “Oh, okay then.” She said, snuggling closer to him. The interview had knocked her off kilter a bit, and it felt especially good to have Jensen’s arms wrapped around her. 

She tucked her head under his chin, and he ran his big hand up and down her arm. “Hey,” he said with concern lacing his voice, “everything okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a long day sitting in the same room, being asked basically the same questions.” She shrugged. “I just wanna get home. Or, well, hotel.”

Jensen accepted her answer, kissing her forehead and then her lips. “Me too.” 

They ordered in their dinner, neither of them keen to face more crowds and questions, and spent the evening watching some trashy reality TV before calling it a night a bit earlier than usual.

Y/N went into the bathroom to get ready. She brushed her teeth and took off her makeup, and as she stood in front of the mirror she looked at her face closely. 

There were some lines there that hadn’t been there when she first met Jensen. She knew there was a gray hair or two hiding amongst the rest that also hadn't existed back then. 

She pulled her silk nightgown tight against her body and could see where she was rounder than she had been when she was younger. Her muscle tone wasn’t as good. 

I should hit the gym more, she thought.

She pinched one of her love handles and pulled at her skin, wondering what Jensen really thought about all these changes. She knew he loved her, knew that he’d always found her attractive. But how was that holding up these days? Did he still feel the same kind of heat for her? Did he still want her as desperately as she still wanted him?

She jumped slightly as Jensen popped up in the mirror behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. He wore his pajama bottoms and nothing more. She looked at his biceps flexing around her as he squeezed her back against him, and his round, muscled shoulders, broad and strong, and she sighed. He was still so unbelievably perfect.

She lightly tapped his forearm where it rested just below her breasts. “You scared me.” She said, her voice accusatory.

He chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.” He caught her eye in the mirror. “But you seemed to be lost in thought.”

He moved his lips to her temple. “What thoughts are swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours? Hmm?” He murmured. 

She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.” 

Jensen’s face in the mirror wore a disbelieving look. “Don’t believe that for a second.” He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms so she was facing him. A small line of worry was creased between his brows.

“You’ve been quiet all evening; something is obviously on your mind.”

Y/N shrugged again and looked down at their bare feet. “Just tired.”

Jensen put his knuckle under her chin and made her look at him. “Y/N. Tell me.”

Y/N was caught completely by surprise as her eyes welled up with tears. She didn’t know where these doubts were coming from or why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was just one too many snide questions.

Jensen’s face crumpled as he saw her tears. He cupped her cheeks and brushed them away as they spilled over her lashes. “Baby.” His voice was worried and confused. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, nothing happened. Really. It was just this reporter.” 

Jensen waited for her to continue, but his worried expression darkened slightly in anger.

Y/N bit her lip and debated what to tell him, how to explain the feelings she barely understood herself. Finally she just went for the honesty they’d always had with each other; they’d never been afraid to ask for what they needed from one another, and what she needed was reassurance.

“Do you still want me? I mean, the same as you used to.”

Jensen seemed completely taken aback by the question. Clearly that hadn’t been where he expected this conversation to go. He shook his head.

“Why would you even ask that? Of course I do.”

Y/N frowned. “Don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Please, tell me the truth. Are there things about me you’d change if you could?”

Jensen’s expression turned thunderous and he dropped his hands from her cheeks to grip her upper arms. “Y/N.” He said firmly. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from? Of course I don’t want you to change.”

“I don’t mean my personality, or whatever.” Y/N explained wiping her tears away with both hands. “But my face or my body, the way I look. I know it isn’t the same as when we first met.”

Jensen shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Well no, you don’t look exactly the same as the day I met you over a decade ago.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “But you know, I’m pretty sure I don’t either.”

Y/N felt her skin flush. “But you’ve just gotten hotter.” She frowned. “Guys do that.” 

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Jensen slammed his mouth down on hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and invading her completely. She let out a little whimper as his hands let go of her arms to grab her ass and press her hard against him. He kissed her long, deep, swallowing every soft moan.

When he pulled back his voice was husky with want. “Baby, I don’t know where these questions are coming from, but I know the answers.” 

He grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his hard cock where it tented his pajama bottoms, obviously not restrained by underwear. She bit her lip as he closed his eyes and groaned when she wrapped her fingers around him. 

“Feel this? It’s all for you, all because of you. Fuck, Y/N do you see what you do to me? Still? Always?” He pushed aside some of the bottles and jars that littered the countertop and lifted her onto it easily. His hand slipped between her legs and he groaned at her bare, wet pussy. “Believe me when I tell you that I want you. Every day. All the time. Years don’t change that.”

He shook his head. “In fact they just make things better cause now I know what happens if I do this.” 

He dipped his head, sucking her satin clad nipple into his mouth, while his thick middle finger slid inside her body at the same time. A strangled cry left her lips and she thumped her head back against the mirror.

She felt him smile against her. “Exactly.”

He took his hand out of her to tug on her nightgown. She shifted slightly so he could pull the silky material over her head as he continued.  “And yet, your body’s always a revelation to me. It never stops fascinating me.” His eyes followed the path of his fingers as he trailed them down her arms and then over the soft swell of her breasts. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin and her nipples puckered.

He circled his forefinger around the tight little bud, before dipping his head once again to flick the tip of his tongue against it. 

Y/N moaned deeply and wrapped her fingers up in his honey brown locks. “Jensen.” She gasped as he sucked her breast into his mouth and drew on it deeply, causing her cunt to clench and quiver.

He pulled her forward, to the edge of the counter, and then dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her wide open so he could reach his tongue up to tease her hole. Y/N plunged her hand back into his hair and tugged on it before pushing his head harder against her dripping pussy. 

“God, fuck Jensen, yes.” She rambled.

He hummed against her folds before nibbling at her clit, making her knees try to lock around his ears. But his superior strength kept her legs spread wide so he could feast. He breathed hot against her, alternating between flicking his tongue against her clit and sucking it between his plump, luscious lips.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was bucking against his mouth as she rode out her climax while he lapped up her juices. She panted desperately and tugged on his hair again, begging him. “Please Jensen, fuck me. I need to feel you, need you inside me so badly.”

Jensen stood and scooped her off the counter, walking back into their bedroom. He laid her out on the bed, making sure her head was propped up on the pillows, before stepping away from her. He moved far enough back so that she had an unencumbered view as he slowly lowered his pajama bottoms. 

His cock sprang free to lean, hard and dripping, against his stomach. Y/N felt her mouth go dry and a keening moan erupted from her throat as he gripped himself in his fist, pumping slowly.

He walked towards her one slow step at a time. His voice was a growl. “Is this what you want?” She nodded, biting her lips and trying desperately not to come again, just from watching him.

“Tell me you want it.” Jensen ordered.

Y/N nodded again, almost frantically. “Yes, fuck. I want it. I want your cock.” She reached for him as he stood barely a foot from the side of the bed. “I need it. I need you.”

Jensen climbed onto the bed on his knees, grabbing up her wrists with both hands and pressing them into the pillows on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes as he spoke. 

“And I need you too, Y/N. I need you desperately, obsessively. I need you every waking minute. I need your love and your kindness. I need your good soul and beautiful heart.” He entered her in one hard thrust and she cried out. “But I also need your soft body. I need to sink into you. I need to feel you move against me. I need to hear you say my name like a moan. I need to feel you clench tight around me.”

He began moving slowly, sliding in and out of her with silky, unhurried movements. “I will always love you. I will always want you. And I will never need you any less than completely.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded and gasped as his cock slid over her sweet spot. “Yes. Yes.” Was all she could manage to chant. But it satisfied him and he began to move faster.

He switched positions slightly so he could lift her hips off the bed, hooking her knees over his forearms. He began to slam into her, hitting that same sweet spot over and over until Y/N was screaming out her overwhelming pleasure and falling into euphoria. 

Jensen continued to jackhammer into her, grunting harshly with each thrust. He pounded into her pussy over and over until she was once again on the precipice of bliss. As his hips faltered, he dropped one of her legs so he could slide his thumb between their bodies and swirl it against her clit. She screamed again and fell for the third time, clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, along with her own.

The familiar aftermath of damp skin pressed together and lungs starved for oxygen, brought Y/N a kind of all encompassing satisfaction and peace. When Jensen finally rolled off of her, she rolled with him, so she could slot herself up against his side, wrapping one arm over his ribs and laying her head on his chest as he ran his fingers teasingly up and down her back making her shiver.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Jensen broke the silence. “Y/N tell me the truth.” He said, and Y/N could hear the protectiveness and anger on her behalf permeating his tone. “Did someone say something or do something to hurt you today?”

But she just shook her head. “No, it wasn’t any different than a million other interviews really.” She shrugged. “Something about it just hit me, I guess.”

She raised up on her elbow, chin in her hand, to look at him. “But if you tell me you love me as truly, madly, deeply as you did the day we met, then I believe you.”

Jensen frowned slightly. “Are you comparing me to a Savage Garden song?”

Y/N giggled, but ignored the question, kissing him softly before laying her head back down on his chest. She smiled against his skin as she spoke. 

“I believe you, but tell me again.”

Jensen’s breath ruffled her hair as he sighed contentedly. “I will love you, and desperately want to devour you, every single day of my life - for the rest of my life.”

Y/N nodded, and her voice was full of confidence as she snuggled closer. “Thought so.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[istadris]

More about that plotbunny of Bowser hiring Luigi as a dealer for one of his casinos.

(Disclaimer: lots and lots of artistic liberties about how casinos and card games work, this is Mario world after all)

At first, Bowser doesn't want to hire Luigi. At. ALL. If it was just up to him, he would just punt the nerd back to Mushroom Kingdom.

But as Kamek points out, not only did he give his word, but if he fires someone just for being good for the job they're applying for, what kind of message is it sending ? If there is one reason Bowser's kingdom is running smoothly despite the regular beatings the kings gets from a pair of silly plumbers, it's the good work relationship between Bowser and his troops : he's a demanding boss, but not an unfair one.

Plus, it's bad enough he fails regularly his world invasions, but hey, world conquest is a hard job, so that's forgivable. But being a sore loser at a card games ?? That's not a good look for Bowser.

So fine. Green Mario is hired in a big show of pretending to acknowledge his enemy's skills. At least Bowser will be able to pretend he's bossing around the actual Mario for a while.

Doesn't mean he can't get his revenge otherwise.

Yes, he can't fire Luigi...but if Luigi is too weak to hold under pressure and quit, that's not on Bowser, is it ?

So Bowser nonchalantly orders the casino manager to make sure the new hire knows what he's in for. Or in other words, push him so hard he quits on his own.

At first Luigi is just put on slot machine filling duty; a boring, tedious job with a lot of noises and loud clients everywhere. Luigi bears it ; he's done that gig before and he's seen much worse as a full time plumber. And while he's doing that job, he befriends several of the maintenant workers, who for the most part are kinda curious about what a human (and a Mario Brother, no less) is doing here.

He's also very, very clumsy. To the point the manager starts to wonder how this is the same guy who beat Bowser at poker. And you know what, he's curious. Screw what Bowser said, until the king butted his head in the job interview, the human had an interesting resume and the manager is not losing more money, he wants to know what the new guy can actually do.

He puts Luigi at one of the tables as his last chance. Either he makes money, or he's out.

And Luigi makes money.

A.

Lot.

Of money.

Bowser visits the casino around about that time, already gloating inside : surely by now that wimp has run back to Mario crying, right ?

Instead he sees Luigi at one of the main Picture Poker tables, charming up the players (and it's something Bowser never expected to see, Luigi being confident and charming -wait why is he finding him charming ??) and large piles of coins piling up on his table.

Turns out, when your casino's style is mostly built around reminding players how tough and impossible to beat you are, a friendly and innocent-looking dealer who encourages you with dorky catchphrases and a cute little laugh is a BIG draw for players who think they still have a chance.

Bowser is FURIOUS (and just slightly horny). But he still can't fire Luigi; not only is he good at his job, but by now word has spread of how Luigi has been hired in the first place, making it very hard to not look like he's a sore loser who can't even win a card came against the "weaker" Mario Brother.

Brother who has the GALL to offer him to play at his table. And smiling on top of that!! That cheeky little thing !!

On his way out, Bowser grabs the manager by the collar : next time he's back, Luigi better has walked out on his own.

The manager appreciates Luigi's work, but he's not putting his job on the line for the new guy. But he's here to make money, and now he's decided to squeeze Luigi out of every coin the human can bring to the casino.

He increases his hours, raises the amount of money he's supposed to make every night, gives him back-to-back shifts, sends the most agressive players to his table (although the bouncers step in if things get too heated).

Usually a dealer is just here to deal, keep count, welcome players, announce hands, that sort of thing. But in Darklands casinos, there are special tables where you can play against the dealer, either on one-on-one or as a normal table; the games there are very high-stake, in an all-or-nothing fashion : you win against the casino, you earn a LOT.

It's the toughest job of the casino : not only the dealer is both player and house, but given these are high stakes games, you can't just put a newbie in charge there. You need a shark, a cold-blooded, lucky son of a bitch who can handle pressure.

The manager sends Luigi there : "you screw up, you're out". Piling up more and more pressure on the poor human's shoulders. As for the other dealers, they feel sorry for the new guy but they certainly won't stick out their necks for him.

But despite the stress and hostile conditions, Luigi isn't Mario's brother for nothing : despite his meek, non confrontational personality, Luigi can be extremely stubborn. He doesn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him quit and so he holds on.

Thankfully, he's got unexpected allies on his side : the maintenance/cleaning crew he's befriended before are outraged at the treatment and decide to help him out. Sneaking him treats and drinks on long night, disturbing games so he's got an easier time winning, arranging tables and chairs to make the other tables less attractive, hiding stuff around. Of course the other dealers notice and some of them are furious...but some start to realise that if Luigi is expected to hold up such high standards, what if these standards become the norm ? And they realise they really don't want such workplace conditions.

Things are getting out off hand. Revolt is brewing in the casino. Bowser gets winds of it and is tempted to close everything on a whim, but Kamek steps in yelling about the revenues the casino makes and how Bowser should get the situation back under control.

Screaming won't solve things, as the entire crew is one bad word away from quitting or going on strike. And he's not going to negotiate with Luigi!

Kamek : "Sir, either fire him or get revenge on him but DO SOMETHING ! He's the mastermind behind this conspiracy!

(He's really not.)

...fine, Bowser decides, he's going to negotiate with Luigi.

Who still doesn't want to quit.

But offers Bowser a deal :

One game a night, until they go through all the casino games. They count each victory and once the total is done, if Bowser has more points, Luigi walks out. If Luigi has more, he gets back a normal work schedule and he can finally focus on his damn job.

It's a stupid wager. It's ridiculous. It's outrageous. Insulting, even.

And Bowser still takes the wager.

Because he finally picks up on something: for some reason, even after everything, Luigi wants to play against him.

You can guess where this goes.

[lazzlady]

“We just have a couple of questions, my child.”

An Exclusive interview

Friendly fire to a awesome artist!

Teri and Rep (c) - @tatatale

.

.

[sgiandubh]

Saint Cillian and the photoshoot

I haven't watched Peaky Blinders and I am not really planning to. By the same token, I am still pondering if losing three hours with Oppenheimer is a brilliant plan or a desperate patch for a long, rainy Sunday afternoon. Hell, I even have no idea if it's still shown anywhere in Athens and have plenty of other things to get myself busy with. So I can't tell you anything about Cillian Murphy's acting abilities - besides the obvious 'he's been around for quite some time now, and not too shabby', I have absolutely no idea.

Two days ago, the UK edition of the GQ magazine proclaimed Murphy 'The Man of the Moment' and celebrated it with a substantial photoshoot you can peruse here: https://www.instagram.com/p/C3S27bfgO1X/?igsh=aGYweGg5bWpkOWo4

Yes, it should totally ring a bell:

Phew...

Or... uhm, this uber cringey...

Now imagine I am the not-so-friendly diplomat in Mars Attacks and I know next to nothing about gender on Planet Earth. Remember (LOL)?

Ahem. As a Martian, I would surely think, based on that photoshoot and with no particular curiosity to double-check, that Cillian Murphy is projecting here, as a wonderfully sarcastic friend (thank you, dearie, always 🙌❤️😘😘) put it in a recent convo, 'a flamboyantly gay, fame whore vibe which is the opposite of everything Cillian is. '

I have no reason to question my wonderfully sarcastic friend's sanity. The man is married since forever to Yvonne McGuinness, a real visual artist with real credentials (uh-oh!), plus he is also a very dedicated father of two teenage boys. Intensely private Murphy never talks about his love life/marital bliss in the scarce interviews he grants. And I bet no cuckoo 'snark corner' exists in his fandom (he has to have one, right?) to question this absolutely legitimate PR strategy.

This also should make absolutely clear to the Disgruntled Tumblrettes and other cheap trolls out there that, once and for all, actors cannot choose their photoshoot outfits or poses. These are, of course, discussed by said actor and his/her PR with the magazine people, the photographer and his team. But ultimately, the overall concept and its implementation are left to the magazine (who ordered and paid for the shoot) and the creative team. Trying to fathom someone's sexual orientation based on an ephemeral image, tailored to fit a particular type of targeted content, is akin to the deepest, most worrying brand of delusional stupidity.

Video killed the radio star, double standard and parochialism killed OL's fandom more surely and effectively than *urv & Paul C's in(s)anity.

[girlgerard]

the way every single thing the band are doing goes against modern music industry standard. in a time when two-minute tiktok-clippable lipsync songs are making the most profit, they drop a 6-minute metal ballad where you can barely even hear the lyrics and the guitar breakdown is something out of ten years ago. in a time when live shows are expected to be professionally costumed and filled with dancing and planned theatrics, they’re selling out stadiums talking about their favorite comic books and covering themselves in random fluids and playing cuts so deep 2/3rds of the audience doesn’t even know the set and being so unapologetically bizzare they’re causing actual discourse. in a time when sanitized and airbrushed documentaries are the only format an artist is allowed to speak in, their makeup carefully applied for the interview lights, their words rehearsed and perfect, the band is taking the grittiest, shakiest, hand-held footage of their smiling faces and their joyful audience, produced by their friends and crew they’ve known for years, refusing to polish and perfect anything.

mcr left the music scene after their label kept trying to make them radio-friendly. appeal to the new pop sound of the 2010s. the entirety of conventional weapons deals with the anger gerard felt over having their creativity shoved into a box, having all of their artwork go through the meat grinder to be the most profitable instead of real.

and now they’re back. and they’re big enough and secure enough and confident enough to go against everything profitable and everything realistic, numbers-wise. they’re back and they’re here to fucking stay

[thelittolpinkstudent]

hello, hello! i’m officially home and on easter break ☺️ it’s very nice to be home, especially since i won’t be back until i move out! this week was pretty chill, but i did have an authors conference to go to two nights in a row for my fiction writing class. it was honestly really cool because they were all comic artists! i liked the different expression they can get by mixing both writing and art.

i came home late last night, and i’m very grateful to my friend from high school who happened to be driving through the area on her way back to our hometown. otherwise, i probably wouldn’t have been able to come home this weekend!

i did a lot of shopping and bought some new clothes and craft supplies today. i also started mapping out my april bullet journal, which i’ll hopefully finish tomorrow. i might also have a casual job interview tomorrow for the summer? i’m not 100% sure since my dad is the one in communication with the place i’d be working at (he’s very friendly with the whole staff, including the people who run the place!), but i’m hoping this job works out so i can save up some money for the next fall and spring semesters since as of right now, getting a job on/off campus isn’t plausible 🤞 gotta pay off those loans too!

whoops this ended up kind of turning into a brain dump, but next week i’ll be back to the grind until finals are over in may! i hope you enjoy my pictures of campus these next few days. happy easter to those who celebrate and i’ll talk to you soon! 💕

[pop-punklouis]

I feel it's not fair at all, poppunk is not my type, On the other hand, I love Louis's voice in 1d songs, and back to you , and couple songs from walls album. And that's it, I don't have anything new to listen to from him. I know this is my problem and my musical taste and it's not Louis's fault. But come on do something like back to you that more people loved it, what's wrong with that? If we want to be logical pop punk has its own fans but they are in the minority.

I know his prejudice fans always says, that's fine, he'll be fine, don't worry about him, let Louis be for us, we don't want to share him, becoming number one is not his goal, but isn't it? Wasn't he happy when he was number one in the UK? I know the fans made it , but it's not like Louis said I'd be upset if I became number one and I don't want it and I refuse to accept it.

He says he doesn't care about commercial success, but who wouldn't want that. When you have the ability and talent, what's wrong with using it and singing a song that will bring everyone's attention to you? I really don't understand why Louis doesn't want to sing something that is popular with the majority of society?

1) this is such a weirdly self-serving ask of an artist like: “create music i want to listen to. if not, i cant listen to it and you’re not going to be successful.” perhaps, louis isn’t making music for you but for himself and if that isn’t for you, that’s fine. but that doesn’t mean he isn’t successful…..?

2) louis made mainstream pop music with one direction for five years. and tried his own hand at it for the first half of his solo career. he’d been in that world for a decade. and for his solo career, it wasn’t really that successful. and most importantly he wasn’t happy??

3) louis has made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to make pop music. that his heart belonged in the indie rock/pop-punk scene. and always has. there’s been remnants of that in his style, his interests, and some of his music for years. he’s given countless interviews and talked himself about the pressure that was put on him to dress up as someone he wasn’t with these major record labels. to hide his accent. to create radio friendly music. to be a puppet on a string for them. he wasted years of his career dealing with that pressure and those contracts.

4) FITF, an album that was created as the most authentic body of work he’s released yet, is what got him the number one. it wasn’t walls. it wasn’t any of the strictly EDM work he released. it was FITF. it was an album that featured the sound that he loves and wants to strive towards going forward. it was louis clear vision babe.

5) louis has seen a growth in his career and his venue sizes that is exponential in just one year. and this isn’t because he’s releasing mainstream pop music. it’s because he’s being authentically him. his music is better. his tour is bigger. his presence is brighter. it’s gravitating so much good his way because of the content he’s creating and how it’s translating to his crowds and him as an artist. he’s a much more confident person than he was just a couple years ago. he’s a much more self-assured person.

6) FITF is part of the reason he’s being booked for these festivals now. it allowed him the growth in his fanbase and live shows to attract fests. if he was still creating music like Walls, i’m not sure if it would be shaking out the same way. and with how his music sounds now, it is open to attracting new fans especially in these big festival settings. most of the songs from walls don’t have the capacity to do that. and that’s just the reality.

7) there isnt just one metric of success. success has many different forms. numbers and charts aren’t the only way to succeed. and louis has lived in that world of success. he’s done all of those things. he’s hit those milestones. they feel good, but they aren’t a driving force behind why he does what he does. he does what he’s doing now because he’s finally being able to show who he is sonically. who he is as a lyricist. who he wants to continue growing into going forward in his career. he’s succeeding through his own journey in the industry. and he’s doing a damn good job controlling that for himself.

8) there’s nothing wrong with pop music. i love pop music. there’s a reason why pop music is popular. but asking your favorite artist to reshape who they’ve steadily been building themselves to be all because you don’t like the sound and you think they need to follow a one-dimensional version of success is….. sad lmao he has worked so hard to be where he is. to feel authentic in the music he’s putting out. and for someone to be like “um anyways i don’t like this. go back to what you were trying so hard to not be. i liked your music better that way” is just ????

9) indie-rock isn’t unsuccessful. it isn’t dead. it’s very alive and successful. genres don’t have to be pop or mainstream to be successful. give music much more credit than that, please.

[songbirdseung]

love at first sight / choi yeonjun

As you stepped into the building of Big Hit Entertainment, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. You were here for a work-related meeting, and the fact that you were about to meet and work with one of their stars, Yeonjun from TXT, was making your heart race. You had heard a lot about him, both as an artist and a person. He was known for his talent, charisma, and personality. Your assignment was to interview him for a feature article, and you were determined to get a unique perspective on this young superstar.

You walked through the hallways of the agency, greeted by the hum of creativity that filled the air. As you approached the designated room, you took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a voice called out from within. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, your eyes meeting the one and only Yeonjun and his manager. Yeonjun, He was sitting on a couch, engrossed in his phone, scrolling through something.

Yeonjun looked up from his phone, his deep brown eyes studying you for a moment before a polite smile crept onto his face. "You must be Y/N, here for the interview," he said, rising to his feet. He extended his hand, and you shook it, feeling a jolt of warmth at the contact.

"Yes, I'm Y/N," you replied with a friendly smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Yeonjun."

He nodded, gesturing for you to take a seat. "Likewise. Please, have a seat."

As you settled into a chair across from him, you couldn't help but admire the aura he exuded. Yeonjun was remarkably good-looking with his perfectly styled hair, sharp jawline, and that captivating twinkle in his eyes that hinted at a world of stories.

The interview started, and you were amazed at how open and eloquent he was. Yeonjun spoke passionately about his journey in the music industry, sharing insights into his experiences as an idol and his growth as an artist. You were eager to understand the artist behind the fame, and Yeonjun's initial responses had already set the tone for an engaging and insightful conversation.

You noticed the dedication in his eyes as he talked about his musical journey, so you probed further to learn more about the sources of his inspiration. "Yeonjun, could you share some of the artists or musicians who have inspired you the most on your journey? How have they influenced your own music and style?"

Yeonjun's face lit up when discussing his experiences as an idol, so you decided to delve deeper into the challenges he had faced and how he had grown through them.

But as the conversation delved into his personal life, you noticed a shift in his demeanor. He became guarded and distant, especially when the topic of romance came up.

"Yeonjun, can you tell us if you've ever experienced love or a romantic relationship?" you asked, trying to tread carefully.

He let out a short laugh, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Love? Relationships? I've always been too busy for those things. It's not something I ever think about."

You couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to be so anti-romantic. However, you decided not to pry further and switched to a different topic. The interview continued, and as you spoke with him, you noticed how his guard gradually lowered, and he started to share more about himself.

It was during a break in the conversation that you saw a glimpse of a different side of Yeonjun. He was momentarily lost in thought, a wistful expression on his face. It was a fleeting moment, but it intrigued you. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the anti-romantic Yeonjun than met the eye.

The interview concluded, and as you were gathering your notes, Yeonjun leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Y/N, can I ask you something personal?"

Surprised by his sudden interest, you nodded. "Of course, go ahead."

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, and then he spoke softly. "Have you ever met someone and felt an instant connection? Like, you couldn't explain it, but you just knew that you wanted to get to know them better?"

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected question. "Yes, I suppose. It's happened to me before."

Yeonjun nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I had that feeling when you walked into this room, Y/N. It's strange, I know, especially for someone like me who's not into all that romantic stuff, but I can't help it. I felt a connection, a curiosity about you from the moment you walked in."

As the interview wrapped up, Yeonjun walked you to the door, and you exchanged contact information. The encounter left a lasting impression on both of you, and as you said your goodbyes, there was an unspoken understanding that this wouldn't be the last time you'd see each other.

Over the following weeks, you found yourself drawn to Yeonjun in ways you hadn't expected. As your conversations continued and your friendship deepened, you couldn't help but wonder if the charismatic young idol might be on the cusp of experiencing something he had sworn off - love, thanks to a chance meeting with you.