#at what point do I admit the first song I learned to play on guitar was blood gulch blues

[bachissidehoe]

take me away - itoshi r.

chapter 5 of 7 in the blue lock band series. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 6. chapter 7.

synopsis: rin is the only band member y/n still has to write an article about, but he just gives her nothing. he doesn't talk or even answer questions, to the point where it almost seems like he's teasing her. actually- that seems to be exactly what he's doing.

warnings: smut; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; oral (receiving); pussy drunk; a hint of cnc; submissive!reader; fem!reader; minors DNI

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

w.c. 3.2k

Itoshi Rin. The elusive, mysterious, unbothered bassist of Blue Lock. The thing about Rin is that y/n has no idea what he knows or what he’s thinking. Does he know anything about her experience with his brother? What about with Isagi? 

Since y/n started here, she’s probably only exchanged a few words with Rin. It’s only ever in passing, a light nod, perhaps an eye roll. 

“So Rin, what made you want to become a bassist?” She asks, sitting on the couch across from him while conducting her interview with the raven haired musician. 

“My brother played guitar. So I played bass.” He says flatly, his fist resting under his chin, a faraway look in his teal eyes. It’s like he’s bored, he’s been bored the whole time. 

Y/n sighs. She’s really getting nothing out of him. Rin’s the only band member she’s hardly covered in her social media posts, the only one she has left to write about. He’s even more introverted than his brother, and even more of a dick. 

“So you’re very inspired by your brother?” She follows up, trying to get him talking. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

“Well what would you say then?” She tries her best to maintain professionalism, but he’s making it difficult. She’s past annoyed, she’s pissed. She almost thinks he’s doing it on purpose. 

Rin shrugs. “I want to be better than Sae.” 

Finally. Something. 

“Better? Can you elaborate?” 

“What more do you need?” 

“Can you just-” She stops herself, taking a breath. “I just want to learn more about you. Your fans want to learn about you.” She forces a smile. 

Y/n directs her gaze back to Rin, briefly meeting his hypnotizing stare. He’s been looking at her, watching her get frustrated. As her eyes meet his, she can almost see a hint of amusement. He’s enjoying this. 

“I’d prefer they know nothing about me.” He says, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. And he tries to hide it too, that asshole, bringing his hand over his lips to touch just under his nose. 

Y/n takes another breath. “You like this huh.”

“Like what?” He looks back at her, trying to hide his devilish smile. 

That’s enough for y/n. He pushed her far enough. “You’re fucking pissing me off Itoshi. This is my fucking job. Can you stop being a dick for two seconds and answer the fucking questions so I can go back to not talking to you and you can go back to being an asshole like usual? Please?” She breaks, balling her fists as she feels her cheeks turning red. 

And he laughs. For the first time ever, potentially in history, Itoshi Rin laughs. 

“Rin!” Y/n stands up, slamming her clipboard on the table in front of her. She can feel her ears burning, her breath getting hot. She’s seething with anger. 

“Why do you even care so much?” 

“Why do you care enough to piss me off about it?” She snaps. 

He pauses briefly, slightly tilting his head as he looks at her from his seated position. “It’s funny.” He admits. 

“Oh my fucking-” y/n turns around, her fists balled next to her hips as she attempts to leave the room entirely. 

“Oh come on don’t be like-” Rin reaches for her, grabbing one of her wrists and spinning her back around. “Sorry, it’s just kinda hot when you’re angry.” He smirks. 

As if y/n wasn’t red enough already, she feels her cheeks get even hotter, partially from anger- partially from…arousal? 

For Rin to purposely be angering her because he finds it hot- it’s sadistic. Itoshi Rin, the youngest band member, the most mysterious. He hardly brings girls around, yet has garnered a subset of dedicated fans, desperate to break through that thick outer shell. The way he plays and sings is destructive, messy, choppy, yet it’s perfect- it attracts those who want a piece of that destructive nature.

“It’s- what?” Y/n is practically speechless, her breath caught in the back of her throat as she struggles to avoid eye contact with the bassist. 

“It’s-” He forces her gaze to him. It’s unreadable. “Hot.” He repeats. 

“Can we do the interview Rin or are you gonna continue whatever the fuck this is.” She says, her voice low and uncertain. 

Rin’s the last one she’d expect to come onto her. She even expected Reo before Rin. And still, she can’t tell if he’s messing with her or he actually wants her. 

“It’s a waste of my time y/n.”

“I literally cannot stand you.” She snatches her wrist away from his light grip and calmly sits on the couch, smoothing her skirt with her hands before picking up the clipboard she was taking notes with. 

Rin stands a few feet away, a smirk still playing at his lips. It’s all a game to him, he doesn’t care about anything besides being the best. 

“The first song I ever wrote included some of the lyrics that became “Take Me Away” on our first EP.” He finally says, taking a few steps toward her. 

She looks up, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he suddenly decided to do a nice thing for her. She fears if she thanks him or asks him any follow up questions, he’ll stop talking. 

“I was 6. Sae was playing something and I started humming along, eventually coming up with the second half of the chorus- “I don’t wanna stay, I’m gonna go mad”. Sae liked it and so I played bass for him.” He explains. “That’s enough for you, right?” He resumes his rude demeanor. 

Y/n scoffs. “Yeah, I guess.” It’s a nice story though, if only he’d stop being a dick and talk more. 

He turns around, taking a few steps toward the exit of the backstage dressing room. 

“Rin, wait.” She says, cursing herself for deciding to continue the conversation at all. 

He turns around, trying to hide that devious smirk. It’s like he planned the entire thing. Y/n expected Bachira to be into teasing her like this, but Rin? It seems out of character. He’s never even talking to girls, he’s the only one who hardly ever engages with fans, he stays away from most social gatherings, and it’s always a chore to get him to do interviews with the rest of the band. Even his brother is less of an asshole. He’s the last person y/n would expect to toy with her like this. 

“What are you getting at here?” She asks with a sigh. 

“I just don’t see what’s in this interviewing stuff for me.” He shrugs. “But whatever. I’m kinda into you, so.” 

Y/n can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but she can’t stop her heart from skipping a beat regardless. It’s annoying, since she really doesn’t like Rin at all. 

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah sure. You’re so into me, alright, eat me out then.” 

“Oh, sure.” He says it casually, way too casually. As if that’s the response he’s been anticipating from her this entire time. As if he was perfectly aware that’s how this would end. 

“Uh, wait-” She starts, watching him strut back over to her with the same dead look in his eyes. And he drops to his knees in front of her. She gulps. “What are-”

“Doing what you asked.” He places both hands on her knees, slipping a few fingers just under her skirt, enough to graze the skin of her thighs. 

“But-” She stutters, gaze locked onto his unreadable, striking teal eyes. “Are you serious?” It’s all she can say, it’s the only thing she’s honestly been thinking of since they started this whole interview. 

“Yeah.” He says flatly, sliding one hand fully under her skirt, squeezing around the plush skin of her thigh. 

Her face is flushed, she’s past the point of subtlety. It’s unfair of him, truly. He shouldn’t have this immediate effect on her, just from the tight grip he has on her thigh. Well- maybe not just from that- there was the teasing, the way he looks when he makes eye contact with her, the smirk-

She sucks in a breath, feeling his fingers trace further up her skirt. 

“No shorts huh?” He asks, his eyes fixated on the way his hands hike up the thin fabric. 

“No.” She answers, though it comes out more like a light gasp. It’s embarrassing, really, how little it takes to turn her on. Any self-respecting person would have laughed Rin off and gotten over it. 

Not y/n. 

Instead, she can’t help herself from falling directly into his trap, from allowing the sensation of his touch to sweep through her entire body, making it nearly impossible for her to let herself walk away unscathed. 

His fingers reach her panties, and he snaps his eyes back to hers, watching her pull her bottom lip between her teeth in anticipation. And he smirks again, that devilish, beautiful smirk. She can practically feel herself gushing as she looks at him. If he wasn’t so damn hot- fuck- he wouldn’t be able to get away with this. 

“Gonna take them off.” He sighs, hooking a finger under the soaked fabric and sliding them down her legs, a trail of wetness coating her inner thigh as he does. “Stop me whenever you want.” He says it under his breath, but he makes sure to make eye contact again with that same dead look in his eyes. 

She doesn’t answer, just takes in a few quick breaths. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his finger dancing dangerously close to her begging hole. 

“Yeah.” She confirms with one of the short breaths she’s been holding, her eyes snapping shut as she submits herself to the will of Itoshi Rin. 

She doesn’t even like Rin. He’s such an asshole. 

But his fingers feel so nice tracing her rim, making sporadic circular motions that only make her wetter. It stops mattering how she feels about him personally, and it stops mattering even more when he forces her thighs apart, dipping his head between them like this is all he’s ever wanted. 

Itoshi Rin knows what he’s doing with his tongue. 

Fuck. 

Y/n’s entire mind goes blank as he licks her, his nails digging crescent moons into her thighs as he holds them in place. 

If anything, y/n would have guessed that Itoshi Rin was a virgin, considering he shows absolutely no interest in anyone. In the case that Itoshi Rin was not a virgin, y/n would have guessed he was selfish, taking only what he wants from someone and giving nothing in return. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed that Itoshi Rin would be between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her clit, letting light moans slip as if he’s the one enjoying this. 

It’s like he was made to be licking her pussy, like he’s supposed to taste her, swallow her, force her thighs to shake in his grip. He forces his tongue into her tight hole, moaning as he feels her clench around him. 

His movements are intense and uncalculated, and he pulls her closer, thrusting her entire body onto his tongue like he’s desperate for it. Like he’s starving for her, like he wants to devour her. 

All y/n can do is let out quick breaths, often coupled with short whimpers that feel like they’re stuck in her throat. He’s not holding back though, the more the taste of her sinks into his tastebuds the louder he gets. 

“Rin-” She warns, unable to control the shakiness of her thighs as she finds herself hurdling closer to her edge, much faster than she expected. 

“Mmm hmm~” He acknowledges, his eyes closed as he flicks at her burning clit, building her up to her release. And as soon as he feels her let go, he plunges his tongue inside her, soaking up every drop of the fluid that rushes along with her orgasm. He won’t let anything go to waste, he drinks it up, reaching his tongue inside her as far as it can go, using circular motions to absorb everything he can. 

And Rin doesn’t stop. Even after she whines for him, after she fights his grip to attempt to squeeze her thighs together. He doesn’t stop, it’s like he can’t even hear her. So much for telling her she can stop him whenever. He continues flicking at her clit, fucking her with his tongue, he keeps his grip tight on her thighs. 

“I finished- ah~” She attempts to force his head up. “Rin-” 

“Mm mmm-” He shakes his head, his tongue still inside her as he refuses her request to stop. He won’t even stop for air, y/n can’t be sure if he’s even breathing. 

And he keeps going, circling the rim of her pussy, teasing her entrance, pressing his tongue into her clit. Y/n can feel her body becoming overstimulated, every movement he makes feels like she’s being electrocuted. She can’t stop shaking, whining, begging. Her thighs burn from clenching her muscles so hard, her eyes are blurred with a thin layer of glassy tears. 

“Y-y-you g-ott-ta s-sto-stop-” She struggles through her words, desperately fighting a battle between loving every single flick of his tongue and being completely unable to handle it. 

He finally lifts his head, his eyes fluttering open to look at her breathless, shaking figure. “Y’can give me another.” He says, softly. His eyelids are heavy as he takes a few long, smooth breaths. He hardly even lifts his head at all, his breath still tickles her inner thighs. 

His words cut through her mind like butter, smoothly slicing through every last cell that was willing to protest. And she can only lay there on the couch, her clipboard long forgotten on the coffee table in front of her, every intention she had of getting information out of Rin to publish in an article has been cast aside. 

She doesn’t fight him anymore, instead sinks her body deeper into submission as his tongue returns to her pussy. He doesn’t stop, it’s impossible for him. Her taste overwhelms him, leaving him desperate for it. If she keeps getting wetter, he has more to suck out of her. He laps at her dripping hole, the drool and wetness coating his lips and chin so beautifully. His skin glistens with her all over him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Someone will probably hear him. He’s not subtle about how much he loves this. With every breath y/n takes, her walls clench around his tongue, and he can’t help but moan into her. He wants it so bad, he wants more. 

Itoshi Rin is pussy drunk. 

“I’m- fuck Rin-” Y/n gasps, choking on her breath as she feels a second orgasm creeping closer. 

He moves to flick her clit with his tongue, alternating between fast flicks and wrapping his lips around it to suck it between his teeth. It sends her hurdling, it’s a feeling unlike any other she’s felt. 

And then he adds his fingers. He slips two inside her hole, pumping them and curling them inside her enough to make her tremble. 

He has to be getting tired, he has to need another breath soon. 

“R-rin!” She squeaks, an overwhelming sensation rocketing through her body, a rush of fluids following along with her orgasm. 

He only shoves his fingers in further and sucks harder on her clit, gathering her slick cum on every inch of his fingers, his tongue, his lips. It’s like this is the greatest thing he’s ever tasted. He could eat her every day, morning, noon and night, whenever she asks for it. How pretty she sounds when she cums for him, how sweet she tastes, how that tight little pussy grabs for him, how her thighs clench around his head like they’re desperate to keep him sucking on that needy clit. 

“Another~” He comes up only for a second, begging her body to recover enough to let him take her there for a third time.

Y/n’s fingers lace through his dark hair, gripping hard as she pulls him away from her exhausted hole. 

“Can’t y’just fuck me?” She gasps, breathless, holding his hair as tightly as she can. His eyes lock with hers, his face covered in drool and cum. He looks so damn pretty like that, with beads of drool dribbling down his chin and his eyes glazed over with a drunk look. 

“Why’d I wanna do that?” He hums, forcing his hair out of her grip and reattaching his lips to her cunt. 

“Ah~” Y/n gasps, unable to form a response. Rin, truly, only wants to taste her. He wants to eat her out until she’s unconscious. He wants to make her cum as many times as physically possible. “Please~” She whines, though she’s not sure if she’s begging for him to stop or to keep going. 

Her body writhes against him, every nerve and muscle begging for a break. But when she sees him, pathetically on his knees between her thighs, his head disappearing over and over as he puts his entire body into licking her clean, she can’t help but fall further under his spell. He’s destroying her, it’s hungry, it’s dangerous. 

“I- I’m gonna cum- a-again-” She gasps, hiccuping as her third orgasm overtakes her. The overstimulation tears stream down her face almost as ferociously as her squirt streams down Rin’s. And his fingers- he doesn’t stop with them either. He fucks them hard into her, almost like he’s trying to force her cum back to where it came from, like he expects to reach deeper and deeper with every thrust. 

He finally comes up, breathing heavily. Y/n doesn’t know how he didn’t pass out, it hasn’t seemed like he’s been breathing this entire time. 

“R-r-r-in p-plea-please” She begs, though she’s not sure what she’s begging for. 

He leans his head on her thigh, looking up at her with a pathetic set of intoxicated teal eyes. He slides his fingers out of her, holding his eyes on her as he takes them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them as he takes in every drop. 

“Fuck-” She sighs, her vision blurry and her body weak. 

“You taste so damn good.” Rin licks her inner thigh, laying his head there as if he wants to fall asleep. 

“Did you want- like did you need to-” Y/n struggles through more words she has absolutely no right to be capable of saying. In her state, she really shouldn’t have the ability to speak at all. 

Rin just shrugs, wrapping his arms around her thighs once again. “No, I came during that.” He admits. “I have extra pants here.” As if it’s no big deal.

Itoshi Rin. The bassist of Blue Lock, the one who never brings girls around, the one who never talks to fans, the one every interviewer complains about because of his shit attitude. He’s the one sitting here, between y/n’s legs, still drooling over her pussy, cumming just from eating her out. 

“How ya feeling?” He asks, though he doesn’t sound concerned. 

“I’m just hanging by a thread.” She breathes with a smile, proud of herself for referencing the same song Rin did earlier, the story he told her to appease her. 

“So we’re back to where we began again.” He smirks, humming a lyric from that same song. 

[nichuuu]

Beats Me - 1: Squeaker

Shin Ryujin

Tags: Smut, Subby Ryujin, Teasing, Foreplay, Really shitty story

Words: 5k+

You weren’t afraid to admit that you’ve never felt so lost in all your life. 

The university campus was sprawling as it was, but in the midst of trying to find the recording studio, you’ve somehow found that this place seemed to be bigger than it was. The halls seemed to constantly shift themselves, twisting and warping the layout of the campus as you struggled to locate that damn Arts block.

After about 20 minutes of sheepishly asking for directions, craning your head to look at signs that always seemed to be pointing in the wrong way and lots of cussing, you finally managed to locate the studio—15 minutes later than you were supposed to reach—and frantically knocked on the door. The muffled music coming from inside stopped.

The heavy looking oak door swung open. 

“The fuck do you want?” The girl at the door crudely asked. 

“H-Hi… I’m uh… I’m here to try out for the band?” You meekly replied. 

She scanned you up and down. 

“You’re the squeaker drummer?” She questioned. You didn’t exactly know what the word squeaker meant, but you nodded nonetheless. 

“Y-Yeah…” You said. She checked her watch.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” she remarked. 

“S-Sorry… Got lost…” You apologised. She shot you a glare. 

“Getting lost isn’t an excuse, you should’ve—”

“God dammit Yeji! Just let the damn boy inside!” A voice came from within. The lady in front of you—who you assumed was Yeji—shut her mouth, her lips forming a thin line. 

You were scared of her already. 

“Get in and get your ass on the drum kit,” the scary woman barked, stepping aside to let you in. 

You’ve never run into a room so quickly in your life. 

You stepped in, quickly noting that the entire room was full of girls. They all stared at you, and you gave a shy bow before haul assing towards the vacant drum set and setting your bag down. You contemplated on adjusting the height of your seat, but the fact that you could still feel that lady glaring at you made you think otherwise. 

You unzipped your bag and pulled out your drumsticks. 

“Do you have an iPad or anything we can use to give you your charts?” The scary lady asked, shutting the door.

“Uh… No,” You replied. She sighed and shook her head.

“Hopeless” She muttered. 

Not the best first impression. You thought to yourself.

“Yeji, Don’t you feel like you’re scaring him a little?”  The woman behind the microphone voiced her opinion. 

“I would treat him better if he was on time,” Yeji hissed. 

“You and your ‘Professionalism’,” The lady behind the microphone sighed. She turned to you. 

“Hello! Sorry for the… Harsh welcome,” She said. “What’s your name?” 

“O-Oh uh… M-Myeong-seok,” you stammered. 

“Nice to meet you Myeong-seok,” She smiled. “Just do your best today, we’ll see how you fair.” 

You nodded and picked up your sticks. The lady behind the microphone turned back to the front.

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You, from the top!” She announced. 

Having played that song before, you found yourself with new found confidence as you sat up straight in your stool.

You said a silent prayer before the guitar riff came, launching you into the first song.

~

The session went better than expected. Even though you felt like a toddler lost in a supermarket half the time, you managed to grasp a basic beat through most of the songs they played. They did some Rock, some pop, did some jazz and a few other funky genres you weren’t too familiar with, but you never stopped to ask questions, fearing another tongue lashing from Yeji. 

To your delight, you managed to secure your spot as their new drummer. The news came like a spark of joy, but the spark was instantly extinguished by Yeji, who informed you that the band was to do a gig at a nearby bar in a week's time. You had exactly one week to get your shit together, learn the pieces and memorise your charts. 

“No stress,” The Bassist unhelpfully added. She looked scary too.

You’d gotten a grasp of their names. Guitarist 1 was a girl they called “Kkura”, the pianist’s name was Ji-min, or “Karina” as they called her at times. Guitarist 2 was scary lady Yeji, the Bassist Ryujin and the vocalist Eunbi. You prayed you got their names right.

The band practised on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, each practice starting at 4pm sharp. You took note of that, noting from your earlier interaction with Yeji that she despised tardiness.

“Be punctual or I’ll have your head on a pike,” Yeji snarled before leaving the room with her guitar strapped to her back. 

“Don’t mind her, she’s a little moody today,” Eunbi assured you. You could only nod, the fear leaving your body as soon as Yeji walked out the door. Eunbi proceeded to toss you a set of keys. 

“Keys to the studio, everyone gets one set.” She explained. “Come in whenever you want to practise. Just don’t break anything in here or the school will have us knee deep in debt.”

You stared at the keys in your hand, processing the fact that you were now a part of a legitimate… Well… Somewhat legitimate band. 

“See you this Friday Myeong-seok,” Eunbi waved.

“S-See you!” You waved back. She left the room together with Ji-min, leaving you alone with Ryujin who was still busy winding up her wire. You decided to leave her to it, pocketing the keys to the studio and slipping your sticks back into your bag. Being as silent as you could, you shouldered your backpack and got up to leave. 

“Yo squeaker.”

She was staring right at you. You could feel it.

As mentioned before, she struck you as a scary person, with her bob cut and leather jacket giving you the vibe of an 80s gang member. She looked ike the type of girl who would beat you up for staring for too long. You slowly turned to face the bassist, and you were pleasantly surprised to find a smile on her face. 

“Good stuff  today… You were pretty sick on the kit,” She complimented. 

“O-Oh… T-Thanks?” You replied, failing to hide the fear in your voice. 

“Chill man, I won’t eat you,” She assured you, sensing your tension. “Do I really look that scary? Is it the jacket?” 

You hesitated before nodding a little. She smirked and shrugged it off her shoulders. 

“I wear it cause I’m cold. But if it makes you afraid of me, I’ll take it off,” She mused, the black leather slipping off her shoulders to reveal the crop top beneath it. “Name’s Ryujin by the way.”

“I uh… I kinda know….” You told her nervously. She raised her eyebrows.

“You are one sharp feller,” She remarked. 

“Well… I… I just… Listen,” You explained. The short-haired girl scoffed. 

“Don’t we all?”

You managed a chuckle, finding yourself easing up a little. 

Maybe she wasn’t so scary…

“You free tomorrow Squeaker?” She asked, zipping the bag containing her bass guitar shut. 

“W-Why?” You couldn’t help but inquire. 

“I wanna practise with you. Bassists and Drummers go hand in hand, I need your cues and your beat to help me,” She explained, slinging her bass over her shoulder. “Think you can come in at around 2:30pm?” 

You quickly ran through tomorrow's schedule in your head. Lectures ended by 2pm tomorrow, leaving you ample time to get to the studio.

“S-Sure… I can make it,” You agreed. Ryujin flashed you a smile.

“Coolsies. See you tomorrow then,” she said, giving you finger guns. You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you replied with a nervous thumbs up. She laughed and punched your shoulder lightly. 

“Ease up bucko, we don’t bite,” She winked. “Lock up, for me okay Squeaker?” 

You nodded. Ryujin waved before swaggering out of the room, helping you switch off the lights on the way out. 

She seems chill. You thought to yourself, fishing the keys out of your pocket. You exited the room and locked the door, marking the end of your day as you headed off towards the exit. The sun had begun to set on the campus by the time you walked out of the gates.

“2:30pm… 2:30pm…” You muttered to yourself over and over as you set off. You vowed not to be late.

~

The next day rolled around. You sat through lectures as usual, listening to your Prof drone on and on about something related to ethics, or maybe it was morals… 

Hell, it was so convoluted you didn’t know anymore. 

As soon as 2pm struck, you were up and out of your seat, heading towards the exit. The beauty of not having a good professor was the fact that they couldn’t care less about when you left their lectures. 

You made your way to the recording studio with much less difficulty this time. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and turned on the lights and air conditioning, the practice space whirring to life as you shut the door—which was as heavy as it looked—behind you. You beelined it for the kit and fished your sticks out of your bag. You got out your tuning key, which you brought today since the kit sounded like shit the day before, and got to work on adjusting the kit. Yes… You have to tune drum sets too, you know?

When you finished, there was still 20 minutes till Ryujin was due to arrive, so you settled on getting some practice in. Luckily for you, you happened to bring your charts that you painstakingly printed last night (that hole in your wallet will never be patched) and set the folder containing the sheets down on the score stand. 

You quickly got to work, doing your thing on the kit as you waited patiently for Ryujin to arrive. She came in 10 minutes later than she should have, something that Yeji would’ve definitely killed her over, but thank god she wasn’t here. 

“My bad Squeaker. Prof decided to go on a tangent about his divorce,” She apologised, setting her Bass Guitar down on the couch and unzipping the bag containing it. 

“And how are we today?” She asked, pulling her instrument out its bag.

“Good… I guess,” You replied. 

“Splendid,” She answered in English with a British accent. You chuckled at the randomness of the girl. 

You waited patiently for her to hook her instrument up, fiddling with your drumsticks as she slug her Bass over her shoulder and plucked a string, a deep note filtering out of the amp behind her. 

“That is sexy,” She mused, nodding her head in approval. “Alright Squeaker, let’s get to work.”

She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking the excess wire off her foot before signaling that she was ready to begin. 

The session went as you expected, the two of you going through each piece and taking notes on your respective scores. At some point, Ryujin stopped to get a sandwich from downstairs, but she was kind enough to get you an iced Americano. 

“This is on me,” She said, tossing you the bottle that contained your beverage. You set your sticks down just in time to catch the bottle before it could hit you square  in the face. Ryujin cackled at her bad throw before getting back to her instrument.  

You went on afterwards, rejuvenated by the coffee bought by Ryujin as the two of you continued with practice. As goofy as she could be, Ryujin was surprisingly skilled with her instrument, hitting catchy fills and a few high-skill licks that left you wide eyed. You got the chance to mess around for a bit, pulling some shenanigans of your own on the kit that got nods of approval from your practice buddy. 

“Good shit today,” She sighed with satisfaction as the two of you packed up for the day. It was somehow already late in the evening. 

You hummed in agreement, neatly getting your scores back in order and getting them back inside your bag. 

“Let’s get dinner, my treat,” Ryujin suggested. 

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna waste your money,” you politely declined.

“Wasn’t an offer. We’re getting dinner Squeaker,” She grinned. She never seemed to run out of surprises…

You locked the room up and set off with Ryujin, settling on a tonkatsu place near campus. She ordered a round of alcohol for the two of you.

“So… How long have you been drumming for Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, sipping her glass of beer. 

“For a few years now… Started when I was eight,” You answered. “Took some classes for a while then stopped because of money issues, but I joined Concert Band in middle school and highschool. They had kits there so I just practised.”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows, nodding in approval. You decided to try your hand at carrying a conversation, something you were never really good at.

“W-What about you? H-How long have you been playing Bass?” You asked. Ryujin took another sip of beer.

“Me? Not too long… Started a few years back after graduating from College. Wanted to do something with my life, you know?” She replied, wiping the foam off her mouth.

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of your beer. You understood what she meant. 

“Besides, playing Bass was a good substitute for sleeping with guys,” She added out of nowhere. The TMI statement almost made you choke on your beer. 

“W-What?” You coughed, flabbergasted. Ryujin shrugged. 

“I was fresh out of high school and lonely as fuck okay?” She defended herself. “I slept with a couple of guys… And maybe one or two girls… But I needed something to do didn’t I?”

You didn’t know how to respond, and you preferred to keep it that way. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She interrogated you. “It wasn’t even my fault half the time! I just had a few drinks with the guy, and the next thing you know it I’m being railed on my hands and knees. I don’t even know how I got there, honest.”

No words could describe how you felt about the sharp turn this conversation had taken. 

“Come on Squeaker, stop giving me that look,” She sighed, picking up her beer cup and swirling the liquid gently. “For all you know, what I described might just happen tonight…”

“MOVING ON!” You exclaimed, almost in a scream. Your attempt to change the subject of the conversation earned you a few nasty glares from members of the public, but you’d rather be shamed than talking about sex with a girl you just met yesterday. You had done the deed once with your ex, but you didn’t particularly derive any sort of pleasure from speaking about the subject.

Ryujin giggled to herself and sat back in her seat. 

“Alright alright… You’re uncomfortable, I get it,” Ryujin teased in a sing-song voice. The blush on your face was un-concealable as you kept your eyes glued to the beer in front of you. 

“How did you find out about us Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, deciding to drive the conversation back towards music. You inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, finding the courage to look Ryujin in the eye again.

“W-Well uh… Someone handed me a flyer for your band during orientation and—”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Ryujin stopped you. “Orientation? You’re a freshie?” 

“U-Uh… Yea… Military Service,” You explained. 

“God damn! That means you’re older than me!” She mused. 

“W-What? H-How does this affect anything?” You inquired. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“Who said anything about affecting shit?” She asked. “I’m just making an observation Squeaker.”

Your hopes of her ceasing to call you “Squeaker” were dashed. You’d have to live with the nickname from now on. 

“Sorry for interrupting, you were talking about flyers?” Ryujin urged you to continue. 

“R-Right,” You continued, getting back on track from where you left off. “I saw the flyer, saw that you guys needed a drummer, so I contacted… Eunbi I think… Who’s phone number was on the flyer?”

“Eunbi’s” Ryujin confirmed.

“Right, yea… So… That’s how I got the try out I guess…” You said. Ryujin looked unimpressed.

“Wow… That was far from what I expected,” She told you flatly. “I was thinking that you had some moral conflict or something, but no. You just saw the flyer and decided to go for it?”

“U-Uh… Yea…” You answered, unsure how you’d disappointed her. 

“Ew, boring,” She said rather bluntly. “What took you so long to come in then? We’re in the middle of the first semester.”

“Uh… Eunbi… Eunbi didn’t reply to me till last week…” You explained. 

“That’s pretty fucking hilarious,” Ryujin sniggered. You shrugged.

“It is what it is,” You said frankly. 

At that juncture, the waiter came with your food. Two plates of freshly fried Tonkatsu, paired with a bowl of steamed rice, was laid on the table. 

“Oh damn… This looks good,” Ryujin remarked, a hint of glee in her voice. You agreed with her, but you just didn’t vocalise the opinion. Ryujin handed you a set of cutlery from the drawer on her end.

“Dig in Squeaker,” She told you as you took the cutlery from her. You didn’t need to be told twice.

The food was as delicious as it looked, and it went perfectly with the icy beer that you sipped intermittently.  

The breaded cutlet disappeared from both your plates almost as quickly as it came. The speed at which you both wolfed down that meal was a little worrying for you, but the satisfaction derived from that meal somehow seemed to neutralise all that. Satisfied with the food, Ryujin called for the bill. 

“Hey… Let me pay for a little bit of it at least,” You offered. 

“Nope, my treat,” She declined. 

True to her word, Ryujin made the waiter stay far away from you as she handed over her card. As much as your morals gnawed at your conscience to pay Ryujin for the cost of your meal, a small voice in your head knew that she’d just reject it. 

The bill came back, and the waiter returned Ryujin her credit card. With a smile, she thanked the staff and kept her card. 

“Thanks Ryujin,” You said. She waved it off.

“No worries Squeaker,” She grinned, standing up from her seat. “If you don’t mind, could you help me with my Bass? Might need you to carry it home for me.”

You quickly got up and helped her carry her Bass guitar. It was the least you could do to repay her for her generosity. 

“Thanks Squeaker. My apartment isn't too far from here, just help me carry it till we get there,” She said, gathering her things. 

“Damn… You have an apartment?” You asked. 

“Parents wanted me out of the house so badly that they bought me one,” She explained, a proud smirk on her face. 

“W-What? Why?” 

She looked you in the eye.

“I brought home too many boys for their liking,” She simply said, adding a wink at the end of her sentence. “Come on, Squeaker! Help me carry this damn guitar back so you can get home before midnight!”

You travelled a few streets down, Ryujin’s Bass slung over your shoulder as you followed her back to her apartment complex. The weight of the guitar made you understand the pain of actually needing to bring your own instrument from home. 

You made it back to her apartment. You knew her remark of getting you home by midnight was a lie when she pulled you in together with her.

“You can leave your shoes here,” She instructed, shutting her apartment door behind her. 

“I really don’t think I should be here…” You began. 

“Oh for fucks sake Squeaker. Stop being so nervous about everything!” She teased. 

You could only sigh and slide off your sneakers. Ryujin’s apartment was small but cosy, and surprisingly neat as well. She had all sorts of vintage posters decorating her walls, a couple of fairy lights adorning the window sill and a few photos on her shelves and cabinets. You spotted an amp in the corner of the room, and you figured that you should place the Bass Guitar down. 

“What can I fix you up with? Booze? Juice? Tea?” Ryujin asked, walking over to her fridge and opening it up. You headed over to the amp to set down her guitar.

“Tea sounds nice,” You said.

“Booze it is!” Ryujin called back.

“I said—Ah never mind…” You sighed, a gut feeling telling you that there was no point in arguing. 

After placing down her Bass, she invited you to have a seat on her couch. She had a few cans of beer in her arms that she set down on the coffee table. 

She cracked open two cans, handing one to you and taking one for herself before relaxing on her couch. You sat there rigidly, both hands on the cold can.

“Why are you so tense?” Ryujin questioned. “Am I making you nervous?” 

“N-No… I’m just… Jittery when it comes to new things and new people… It’s in my blood,” You explained. She smirked. 

“That’s why we have alcohol dude,” She reasoned, tapping the beer can in your hand. “Drink up, loosen up!” 

She clinked cans with you and guzzled down the entire can, shooting you a look that pressure you to do the same. You hesitantly raised the lip of the can to your mouth and tipped it back. The cold, icy and bitter beverage flowed into your mouth, burning your throat on its way down. 

“There you go, that’s the spirit!” Ryujin encouraged you as you gulped down what was left of the first can. Your outings with your platoon had built up your alcohol tolerance, but you still weren’t exactly the best when it came to alcohol. 

“Good job. Now have another can,” Ryujin said, cracking open two more cans and handing one to you. 

“I don’t think I should—”

“Just fucking fucking drink it.”

The second can turned into a third, and the third can into a fourth. By the fifth can, you were starting to get a little woozy, and you knew that you should stop. Ryujin however, seemed to be very against that. 

The sixth can went down easily, and the seventh even easier.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you somehow found yourself stripped down to your undies in Ryujin’s bedroom, furiously making out with her. Her tongue explored the insides of your mouth hungrily, the taste of beer still in her mouth. This entire day had been a trap, but you just didn’t know it. 

Her mouth left yours, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you as she gazed into your eyes. A smirk tugged up the corner of her lip as she slowly got down on her knees. Her sports bra supporting her bust gave you an excellent view of her plunging cleavage as she tugged down your boxers. Your cock sprung out from its restraints, twitching out in the open as Ryujin grasped a hold of it, slender fingers wrapping around your length as she pumped your cock. She licked her lips in delight. 

She wasted no time in wrapping her lips around your cock and taking you straight into the depths of her mouth. The eye contact she maintained with you almost drove you over the edge as she rocked back and forth, building a steady pace as she slurped on your dick. Her hands supported themselves on your thighs as she drove you deeper and deeper, the head of your cock poking the entrance to her throat. You couldn’t bear to keep watching her bob up and down your cock for too long, and you forced yourself to look up. The moans leaving your mouth kept coming in a steady stream, your hands finding themselves entangled in locks of Ryujin’s hair as the woman you just met yesterday devoured your shaft. Her tongue busied itself, swirling around your sensitive head and delivering occasional flicks to the underside of your member. She was clearly experienced in giving head. 

“Jesus Ryujin…” You managed to moan through the haze of your tipsiness and pleasure. Ryujin lets your cock pop out of her mouth, stroking your shaft—now slick with her saliva—with a corkscrew motion. 

“My mouth is good… But playing Bass over the years has made my hands even better,” She giggles. Her fingers grip your throbbing shaft tighter, her palm pressing into the underside as she forces you to watch her stroke you. She shifts the pressure to her pointer finger and thumb, squeezing the tip of your sensitive head. Your head whips back, your mouth opening wide to let out a soft sigh. 

“That’s it squeaker… Moan for me…” Ryujin encouraged, increasing the intensity of her hand’s assault on your penis. “Tell me how good my hand feels…”

“Fuck… It’s so damn good,” You hiss through your teeth. That smirk crosses her face again. 

“That’s what I thought…” She whispers. “But enough of this foreplay… I want this inside me.”

She lets go of your cock, a move that was both disappointing yet somehow relieving to you as she gets up on her feet. Ryujin makes quick work of her sports bra, tossing it into the growing pile of clothes before quickly pulling down her panties and kicking them away. You now knew what was hiding below that leather jacket…

It was safe to say that Ryujin could easily make a man throb just by looking at her body. Her curves were in all the right places, her snatched waist accentuating her figure and that round, plump ass looking ever so delectable. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Are you gonna keep fucking me with your eyes? Or are you gonna get over here and fuck me for real?” She asked. You didn’t need a second invitation to walk over and grip her waist firmly. Your cock pressed against her defined abs, the skin in contact with your slick dick glistening as traces of her own saliva are left on her. She gripped you by your cock and pulled you over to the bed, where she laid down on her back and spread her legs wide. The pink flesh of her glistening pussy was a sight to behold, her folds slick with her fluids and the insides of her thighs flushed with arousal. 

“You can eat me out another day,” She hissed, reading your thoughts. “Just put your cock in me and fuck me like an animal.”

While the former statement made you slightly disappointed, the latter was too appealing to be turned down. 

You were above Ryujin in a matter of seconds. Her hand held onto the base of your shaft, lining your head up with her entrance. Giving you the slightest of nods, you popped your hips and buried yourself inside her tight body, entering the Bassist for the first time. 

A sharp gasp left her lips, her legs wrapping around your waist. Her heels pushed you deeper into her tight little cunt, her slick warm walls gripping you firmly as she whispered into your ear.

“Fuck me.”

You weren’t sure where you found the strength in you, maybe it was the alcohol messing with you. You pounded Ryujin mercilessly, her body rocking violently with each thrust as her cute tits jiggled deliciously. The cries that left her mouth mixed well together with the background of skin slapping against skin. The squelch that came from your cock entering her over and over again was one of pure lewdness, akin to music in your ears. 

You found a steady pace, fucking Ryujin with long hard strokes. Her eyes widened with each entrance, a sigh and the occasional cuss leaving her mouth every time you drove yourself into her wet little pussy relentlessly. Ryujin was a beautiful mess beneath you, and she also seemed to be very vocal when she wasn’t mewling into your shoulder.  

“Oh fuck fuck fuck… That’s it… Squeaker… Fuck my little pussy…”

Her body bounced deliciously, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head as her moans began increasing in intensity and volume. Her bed creaked in protest, rattling and shaking under the force of your thrusts. Ryujin dug her nails into your back, an outlet to release the pleasure that crashed into her body in rapid waves.

As much as you wanted to fuck Ryujin like this forever, her skillful foreplay mere minutes ago didn’t allow you to last too long inside the bliss that was Ryujin’s pussy.

“Ryujin… I’m… I’m gonna cum,” You grunted. She managed a smirk that quickly twisted into a lewd expression as he slammed back into her. 

“On me… Cum… On me…” She rasped. 

Your pace quickened, each breath you took becoming shallower and shallower as you pumped yourself furiously into Ryujin’s tight body. The pressure continued to build at the base of your cock, slowly working its way up from your tingling balls to the tip of your cock. A few thrusts later, you finally couldn’t take it and withdrew yourself out of Ryujin’s cunt. You furiously stroke your shaft with your right hand, and with one, two, three pumps, you explode onto Ryujin’s hot body. Her abs become the canvas for your load, hot bursts of semen painting her abdomen in ropes of white as your orgasm takes you. Your hand never stops stroking your cock, pushing out rope after rope of your seed as you empty yourself onto Ryujin. She sighs softly with each shot onto her, closing her eyes to savour the feel of your warm cum splattering her body. 

It takes you a while to recover from your high, but Ryujin was patient enough to wait for you, idly playing with the cum on her tummy as she watched you with a smirk. 

“Was… I that good?” She giggled. You managed a nod.

“Amazing…” You breathe. She sits up on the bed. 

“Then you’re in for round two of this amazing experience.”

She got up and bent herself over her desk.

Your still hard shaft throbbed at the sight of her round, plump ass protruded out and ready to be taken. 

“I want you to make me cum like this… And don’t you dare stop till I’m a screaming mess,” She hissed aggressively. 

Rejuvenated by her lewd words, you get up and take your position behind her. With an open palm, you deliver a slap to her right ass cheek, enjoying the sight of the plump flesh rippling from the impact. Ryujin clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Quit playing with my ass and rail me Squeaker,” She growls. 

“Impatient are we?” You ask. She shoots you a glare. 

“When did you start talking so much?” She asked.

“When did you start being such a slut?” You fired back. 

“I’m not a slut,” She argued. 

“Then what are you?” You questioned. That seemed to make Ryujin think for a bit. 

You decided to use that window to surprise her. 

“I’m a—FUCK!” She screamed, her snarky response cut off by you penetrating her once more. She somehow felt even tighter in this position. 

“Got you,” You grinned, your cock throbbing inside her wet, slick heat. She glares at you and opens her mouth to try and say something, but her words turn into a moan when you slam back into her, the delicious flesh of her ass rippling as the base of your crotch makes contact with her juicy cheeks. 

“You have a great ass Ryujin,” You compliment her. 

“T-Thank you…” She manages. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

“As you wish,” You reply. 

Reaching forward, you grasp a palmful of her tits and give it a squeeze. She supports herself against her desk as you begin to rock her body once more, drilling yourself deeper and deeper into her pussy. Her moans fill the room, a delicious arc of her back forming as she tilts her head back to look you in the eyes.

“Pull… My hair…”

Happy to follow through with her request, you make a makeshift ponytail with a handful of her dark hair and yank back. She lets out a sharp gasp, her walls tightening as you clench your fist tighter around the lock of hair. 

“Yes yes yes yes…” She pants, eyes half lidded with pleasure as she struggles to grip the desk properly. Her walls were tightening around you by the second. 

You pull back harder on her hair, pulling her upright. You wrap one arm in front of her, pulling her towards you. Her back flushes against your chest, her eyelids snapping open as she makes eye contact with you. 

“I’m cumming… Oh god I’m fucking cumming…” She gasps, gripping your forearms in a vice grip. 

She continues to let unfiltered gasps leave her throat before she finally reaches her high. Like the beautiful mess she already was, she screams at the top of her lungs, her insides clenching onto your cock as she twitches in your arms. You fuck her relentlessly through her orgasm, chasing your own high as your sensitive member feel every pulse, every twitch of her freshly fucked pussy, your cock spearing her repeatedly. You fuck her twitching body like there was no tommorow, hips thrusting furiously till you hit your second orgasm for the night. 

Pulling your dick out just in time, resting it on her plump ass and stroking yourself to completion. Her butt glistens with your cum, some of the slimy, slick fluid sliding off the curve of her round bottom and dripping onto the floor. Your shaft glistens with your mixed juices. 

You both struggle to catch your breaths, panting against each other as you rest your head on Ryujin’s shoulder. 

“Tell… Tell no one about this… Got it?” Ryujin manages to pant after some time. You nod weakly against her, fully drained this time. She slips out of your arms and wraps a hand around your waist. 

“Come on… Squeaker… Looks like you’ll be crashing with me tonight…”

You didn’t have any energy to argue against her, so you join her in crashing into her mattress and settling in for the night. As sleep took over your body, you felt Ryujin cuddling up against you. 

“We… We’ll talk about this tomorrow…” She whispers. “Goodnight Squeaker.”

You managed a one-worded reply. 

“Night…”

Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall into the welcome arms of rest.

_________________________________________

What is popping. I’m not dead guys, I just don’t use tumblr as much (I swear I’ll try and be a little more active). Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one and I apologise if it’s bad, I read through it once and decided: Eh... Fuck it, let’s post. Contemplating on making this a series if you guys like it enough. I suck at smut so I’m not too sure if this even has the quality to be a series but eh... I’ll leave it to democracy to decide if this is worthy enough. You guys let me know if you want to see this turn into a series.

Have a nice day :))

Also, Legend for some of the terms I used:

Squeaker: Newbie. I stole it from Whiplash lol.

Charts: Slang for sheet music. Also referred to as “Scores”

Snare: The goofy part of the drum set that gives you the funny “Kat” sound. I think google will explain it better. 

Tuning Key: Key that tunes. (Wow!!!)

Score stand: The thing that holds your sheet music

[lilacmingi]

PRACTICE ROOM KISSES

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Jooyeon x fem reader

Word count: 660

Note: First Jooyeon drabble! I loved his long hair during Hair Cut era aaaaa it was so pretty

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Your boyfriend, Jooyeon, dropped down onto the couch in the practice room with a melodramatic sigh, his head falling into your lap. You let out a snort in response to his theatrics, staring down at him with a fond smile.

"My fingers feel like they're about to fall off." He whined.

"You're weak." Jiseok teased from across the room. "I could play for hours."

"So, you want practice to go over?" Gunil asked, making Jiseok's eyes go wide, his head shaking vehemently.

A chorus of chuckles filled the room in response to his reaction.

"I'm serious. We can stay later if you want." The eldest continued to tease.

Again, Jiseok shook his head.

"Y/n, can you play with my hair?" Jooyeon asked cutely, staring up at you with round eyes.

There was no way you could deny him, firstly because you loved playing with his hair, especially since it had gotten so long, secondly because you couldn't say no to his pleading eyes.

Your fingers threaded themselves through his long tresses, the vibrant magenta that colored the ends for Overload had faded, but that didn't take away from the beauty that was Jooyeon's magnificent mane. You thought he would cut it after Hello World, but he continued growing it and has kept that up for much longer than you would have assumed. In all honesty, you hope he keeps this long hair. It suits him well and you enjoy running your fingers through it.

You absentmindedly twirled a strand around your index finger, letting it fall and slowly undo itself. Jooyeon's eyes closed as you combed through his hair, a blissful sigh escaping his slightly parted lips. Changing tactics, you went from carding your fingers through his hair to braiding a strand of it, listening to the other members talk amongst themselves.

"I was thinking in this next run through of the song, Jungsu could-"

The entire band groaned, cutting off Gunil's sentence before he could even get to the point of it.

"C'mon, Gunil, we're supposed to be taking a break." Seungmin complained.

Hyeongjun nodded in agreement.

The leader pouted, slumping slightly in his seat before heaving a sigh. "You're right."

"Y/n?" Jooyeon called softly, his eyes open and staring up at you.

"Mhm?"

"Can I have a kiss?"

Your eyes went wide at his request.

"In front of them?" You whispered.

"They won't notice."

Flicking your eyes up to the group sitting about the large practice room, you checked to make sure they were all engaged in their own conversations before looking back down at Jooyeon who had an expectant look on his face.

You licked your lips, taking another glance up at the other members before leaning down to kiss your awaiting boyfriend. He hummed immediately upon contact and you could feel him smiling slightly against your lips.

When you tried to pull away, he brought his hand up to the back of your head and halted your actions, pulling you back down to his lips. You had to suppress the small squeak that nearly left you in response to Jooyeon's bold action. He pressed his lips more firmly against yours and began to kiss with more fervor, carding his fingers through your hair.

As much as you would've liked to keep kissing him, you didn't want to draw attention to yourselves, so you pulled away.

"Jooyeon." You scolded in a whisper.

He laughed in that little cackle of his, not ashamed of what he had done at all.

"I'm still not sure if I like seeing those two being all mushy." Seungmin cringed.

"I've learned to ignore it." Hyeongjun murmured, tuning his guitar.

"I think they're cute." Jungsu admitted.

"Not when they're sucking face." Jiseok's expression twisted in distaste.

Your cheeks were set aflame at his words, which made you look down at Jooyeon who had a smugly satisfied smile on his face.

"You said they wouldn't notice."

He gave a shrug. "I lied."

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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[yuri-is-online]

i’ve got this picture of Yutu being kind of artsy from your description. besides, being an outcast probably means a lot of solo hobbies from no friends. maybe a bonding method for Yutus with a father that is more artistic 👉👈

You have such a good point about being an outcast driving people towards solo hobbies σ(￣、￣=) certain Yutus are more outgoing than others but that does only get you so far.  Of the ones I have written about, Floyd! and Cater! Yutu both had friend circles before coming to Twisted Wonderland, while Ace!, Azul!, and Riddle! Yutu were certifiably friendless.  Bonding between Yutu and a more artistic dad hmmmmm let's see...

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of my fyuuture kid au, you can find an explanation of it here and here, or look at my masterlist for all of the posts.

Vil! Yutu

... really likes to paint and draw, when I first wrote about him his unique magic involved temporarily bringing his paintings to life.  My brother used to dig through old fashion mags when he was teaching himself to draw and I can see Yutu doing the same.  So when he finally gets to see a not tortured version of his father and finds out he is a model on top of being an actor?  He's so eager to learn about all of it, and Vil has got to be thrilled to share.  You know between him and his own dad Vil has got to have a nice collection of vintage designer items he's willing to let Yutu have a look at.  Yutu has drawn his dad a lot, receiving a drawing someone has made for you is already beyond flattering, but when it's from a family member?  Forget the fridge, Vil is getting this framed.  I can also see him maybe commissioning Yutu because he wants to make sure he never under sells his work.  He is a member of the Schoenheit family, he is allowed, nay required to have a great deal of pride in himself.

Cater! Yutu

... likes playing guitar and he loves playing with his dad.  He's not really interested in playing with the other pop music club members, Yutu is a bit shy around his dad's friends.  When he's stressed he likes to play a few songs and sing, something I could see working for Cater too.  While I'm talking about Cater, I don't think he'd make a bunch of magicam posts about his family, just in general.  He uses magicam as a way of maintaining his false happy facade, his want to date Vil comes at least partially from his presence on magicam, some of his real self is on display there sure but a lot of it is exaggerated and fake.  When he has something real he wants to keep it away from the rest of the world, so while his followers absolutely are told he's #taken #blessed they don't know about the details of his relationship.  At least not if it's a healthy one.

Jade! Yutu

... is someone I haven't written about before but he is also very into music, just not jazz music.  Not that he hates jazz, he's just stuck in that teenage phase of refusing to admit the things his dad likes are cool, something Jade reasonably “sniffles” about but that's not to say music isn't a bonding point for them.  He also plays bass, just an electric not an upright one, and Jade enjoys listening to Yutu play.  He's very supportive and surprisingly soft in his praise for someone who just got done listening to his kid scream out a punk rock song.  As long as Yutu is willing to do some hiking with him (which he is) then he has no real problem with what his kid likes, if anything I can see Jade enjoying their differences.  Life is boring if everyone is the same.

Rook! Yutu

I've been thinking about Rook, just as a character recently and one of those things that's been stuck in my mind is that he was very shy as a child.  To keep this from becoming just general information about Rook! Yutu, unlike his father Yutu never got over his shyness, so a lot of their bonding revolves around Rook encouraging Yutu to see the beauty in himself.  He books tickets to shows, symphonies, and ballets in advance so he can make sure Yutu knows when they are going out and can prepare himself to be seen in public.  They plan their outfits together in advance, look up information about the company and what they are going to see so they can appreciate the art just that much more.  On the day of Rook makes sure to kiss Yuu goodbye,  and promises to come home safe.  But not to worry, he always has Yutu help him pick out a bouquet of flowers to bring back for you.  (Unless you're allergic to pollen in which case he'll bring home something else.)

[osgoss]

My BKDK Band AU (part 1)

Aka my self-indulgent Drummer Bakugou x Bassist Izuku

First things first, Izuku probably learned how to sing first and became part of a choir before he learned to pick up an instrument. He always wanted to play in a band as a kid, and he'd join katsuki's rehearsals just to watch him play.

He only takes interest sometime in his graduating year of high school, when his music teacher (toshinori cough cough) points out how interested he looks while watching katsuki and his band rehearse for a class project. Izuku pretty much throws around excuses as to why he never really learned how to try, from choosing choir first or finding the guitar too complicated, and 'ahh the drums were always kacchan's thing not me' or just not having the talent to play an instrument. Intrigued, Toshinori points out the bass guitar, which isn't as flashy as a guitar or drums or even piano, but certainly just as important as the other instruments, and how learning it would be easier ("what with less strings and less complicated chords, you know?"). For a moment Izuku thinks, a bit hopeful, but then immediately shuts down because he 'wouldn't really have the time to practice it now, and assuming bass guitars are about the same price as an electric guitar, I don't really have that kind of money right now haha'. And then Izuku's final reason would be that he would never dare to outshine or much less step on the same stage as Katsuki Bakugou, the famed drummer.

Toshinori then goes on a tangent of how drums and bass most often than not go hand in hand. While pianos and guitars and singing take care of the melody and tones, drums and bass are important for both the tempo and rythm of a song.

The next time they meet, Toshinori is giving Izuku his old bass guitar, and thats the start of Izuku's journey to learning the bass!!! Personally I like to think Izuku is on the higher notes when it comes to singing, and so bass would also be a refreshing start for him!

As for Katsuki, he's always adored the sound of Izuku's singing voice despite never admitting it. Yet I like to think he has a core memory of them when they were kids, and Izuku sang to him to cheer him up. He never really visited the other's choir practices or rehearsals, but whenever there was a school event or Izuku was asked to sing, Bakugou would always listen intently. In fact, he might've even developed a certain hate for his own voice, with how loud and gruff his voice is, ever since he was a kid. This was the main reason he chose to pick up an instrument, too. He wanted to shine just as much as Izuku in his eyes anyway.

Oh and the reason why Bakugou got a head start on learning the drums was because he had a gameboy as a kid and liked to play rhythm tengoku ALL the time. He got so competitive over it, too.

When Toshinori announces that Izuku will be a part of the band for the project, Katsuki freaks the fuck out. They have this fight for a while, a few weeks before the presentation of their class project, ykno classic bkdk misunderstanding yowza <33 what with Bakugou feeling intimidated by how much Izuku is growing, while also having the slight fear of never hearing Izuku sing again (he feels stupid for it, but never admits it out loud). He does his best to make him give up or discourage him and tell him "you're better off using your ugly nerd voice", which of course Izuku takes the wrong way (can you blame him tbh), and yet Izuku finds himself challenged but hopeful. He doesn't want to throw away the chance (and the guitar) that his teacher gave him. The chance to finally be on the same stage as his childhood friend, to shine just as brightly and beautifully.

They still do rehearse together despite this, and through all the struggle, there are times when their practices turn out better than expected, and in these times, Izuku isn't sworn off at as much.

And then a big fight goes down between the two of them, and they're both angry and arguing because they're running out of time, and Izuku still can't get one part correctly. Bakugou has always been a perfectionist at heart, and Izuku has always respected him for it. But for the first time, Izuku feels just how far apart they are in skill, and he hates it. For now, all he can do is appologize and say "I'll do better" in any semblance to reassure the blonde, but they both know there's just too much at stake amd too much missing. Izuku spends the rest of the night practising until his fingers get blisters.

In the end, Izuku couldn't back out because the other bassist wasn't any better at the bass than Izuku was because he'd thought the greenette wouldn't be replaced at all. In the end, he couldn't perfect the segment he'd wanted to in time, not even on the night before the presentation, no matter how many band aids he used to wrap his blistered up fingers.

On the day of the presentation, Bakugou was driven to a boiling point, repeatedly starting the song over and over until Izuku got it right. Not having a single care about the audience of parents and teachers bellow. Only when they'd finally asked his mother to coerce him to play the song one more time, in full, and in a way Bakugou didn't want to, had Izuku realised just how much their relationship had deteriorated. Playing a song as a band had never felt so restricting, feeling as if your bandmate was your enemy. Feeling as if the people you were playing with didn't want you there at all. For Izuku's first experience on the stage, he was crushed to bits. Turned into a no one. A deku.

When he goes back to the music room to retrieve his(toshinori's-) bass, he finds the strings purposefully cut and left on display, and it doesn't take him a second to know who's behind it (most likely one of bakugou's 'friends' to send him a message). "We can always replace them," Toshinori reassures, "it would've been a real problem if they messed with the back." But the damage had been done, and the message was received.

(To Be Continued...)

"Toshinori-san, do you think I have what it takes to be a bass player?" The question catches him off guard. He takes a moment and then moves to sit beside the younger boy. "Hm. Well, you do have a bass in hand, don't you?" He makes eye contact with the other. "Doesn't that make you a bass player already?" And the boy bursts into tears.

They all pass and graduate despite the kerfuffle of their last project, and Izuku decides to go into a deep dive into learning the bass over his summer break.

Phew!! Wow, this took a lot longer to edit and write ngl, but it's my first written AU!!! YIPPEEEE!! This was actually meant to be a crack AU, due to an ongoing meme in the bands communities where bass players and drummers often get a long well and end up being 'shipped'. So i thought it'd be funny if bkdk was like that, and surprisingly, my brain just decided to brainworm the HELL out of it. So here we are! I'm definitely already working my way into making part 2 so u don't have to worry about that! Hope yall enjoyed reading!!!

[notroosterbradshaw]

fluff and smut! maybe where Rooster and reader are friends who are choosing to spend the holidays together (him because no family and reader because family sucks) and they realize they like each other. something about getting caught underneath the mistletoe (that Rooster put up btw this was a plan) and it evolves from there.

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble. it’s 3.2k of Rooster Christmas smut. I couldn’t get this out of my head so it got its own one-shot. the inspo hit different, so this is for you, darling nonny, whoever you are in the tumblr wilderness! xo 

It had been the perfect Christmas Eve: drinks at The Hard Deck, Rooster on the keys drawing in a raucous crowd, late-night pizza collected on the way home and you found yourself cackling on the couch with Rooster and Phoenix around 2am. "I am so happy I decided not to go home."

"You are welcome to join our little orphan Christmas any time you like," Rooster handed you a wine glass with a wink. You sat on the couch in the living room, Natasha perching herself on the floor, the colourful flicker of the Christmas tree the only real thing illuminating the room. 

"Thank you," you told him, your fingers grazing his and it was beyond the point you could avoid the flirt in your voice. You knew you'd made the right choice to stay. You'd been flirting with him all night, there had been enough wisecracks from everyone that you were cute together.

"You can cut the sexual tension with a knife," Hangman broadcasted at one point.

"Mistletoe, Rooster?" Natasha teased, finally taking her leave and heading for the guest bedroom you were supposed to share with her. "Merry Christmas, friends," she said, disappearing. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Or do," she teased and you both heard the door close.

And finally, it was just two of you. You loved Natasha, but if you didn’t find a way to get Rooster to yourself, you felt like you’d spontaneously combust. You had just enough liquid courage to hide the shyness in your smile and he had to admit, he was feeling a little bold too.

“Just us,” you said, stretching your legs, your sneakers lost on the way in and he reached for your calves, massaging them from the other end of the couch. “I have heard you for years at a piano, but I gotta say, the guitar is a surprise,” you noted the instrument in the corner.

“Love to play,” he admitted, with a shrug. “Sometimes the only way I can unwind from a long day.”

“The only way?” you dared ask. 

His lip quirked. “I said sometimes.” 

You hummed. “Can you play me something?” 

He seemed surprised by this. “Okay,” he said a bit uncertainly. “Dealer’s choice though,” he said, popping up and crossing the room for his acoustic. 

“Surprise me,” you allowed it with a smile, as he sat back down, pulling the guitar to him. His long fingers gently strummed and he shook his head, adjusting the tuning. When he seemed happy a moment later, he looked a little bashful. “I don’t generally play for intimate audiences like this.”

You grinned. “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.” 

He took a deep breath. “Well...” he started and laughed coyly. “Okay, okay. Be kind, I’m just learning this one,” he composed himself, strumming the first few chords and you couldn’t pick it, but the song was so familiar...

I would climb any mountain Sail across a stormy sea If that's what it takes me, baby To show you how much you mean to me

“Foreigner,” you covered your face with your hands. “I love this song,” you told him, scooting closer. His voice that you’d heard sing so many times had you enraptured. You could not be more attracted to him if he tried, and right now, he wasn’t having to do anything except be himself. He was so much more than just Rooster Bradshaw, the naval aviator. You kind of wished he was Bradley Bradshaw, under you as you came.

You couldn’t help yourself, and you may have sounded like nails on a blackboard, but you went for it anyway. He chuckled quietly as you joined in.

And I guess it's just the woman in you That brings out the man in me I know I can't help myself You're all in the world to me

Spying the mistletoe again later as he strummed some random chords, the words of the song long gone ."So, does it work?" You pulled yourself off the couch and wandered away as Rooster stopped playing and put his guitar out of reach. It was now or never, you realised.

"Does what work?" Rooster asked, a little confused.

"Does the mistletoe work?" you asked again, standing underneath it and pointing up casually.

Recognition crossed his face and he eased a slow smile. It was starting to become your favourite thing about him. The way the side of his mouth quirked was incredibly sexy. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it. Rooster stood to his full height, took a deep slug of his whiskey and approached you as you eased back against the doorframe.

"I fuckin' hope so," he said, taking the last step and he could touch you now, the mistletoe he put up for this purpose alone dangling precariously above you. "Wanna find out?"

"I really think we should," you told him, reaching for the white V-neck tee he wore, pulling him to you. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, you hoped and prayed it didn't fizzle and he could feel the sparks you were sure you were feeling between you all night.

His lips were remarkably soft, plump, and extremely kissable and you could swear, he was smiling against your lips as he closed the gap between your bodies and wrapped his arms around your waist, his strong hands pressing into your lower back. Your body felt perfect against his. You recalled afternoons on the beach gawking at the well-worked peaks and ridges now under your touch, something you never dreamed. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said between breaths, tongues and touches. 

“Me too,” you admitted.

“How drunk are you?” He asked softly.

“Pizza helped sober me up enough to know I really want this. Probably made me a bit more ballsy than usual.”

It appeared to be the answer he wanted. “Tired?”

“Could stay up all night if you want me to,” you told him as he revealed a dark chuckle, caressing your jaw and leading your mouth back to his. He hitched you into his arms and you could feel how hard he was. If only he knew how turned on you were with him… how turned you always were in his presence. He disregarded his successful ploy of planting the mistletoe and carried you to the couch, letting your body fall onto him as he collapsed back and you straddled his lap, taking control of the kiss you both refused to break. You adjusted your posture, rolling your hips forward over his straining cock. He groaned, head rolling back. “I want you, Rooster,” you whispered to him.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m aching here. Let me just savour your kiss a while longer, okay?” He licked his lips and claimed your mouth again. “We don’t need to rush.”

But you were desperate. You had planned this whole seduction act when he asked you to stay for Christmas. Tomorrow Hangman was putting on a spread and you knew if you didn’t tell Rooster how you felt right now, you weren’t sure if you’d have the courage again.

You’d been deeply in lust with Bradley Bradshaw for so long, your body ached for him, and you ground on him to let him now. He held your hips and helped you work against him. He was so confined to his jeans and asked if you could take them off.

Rooster sat back and gave a casual shrug, leaving the next moments to you. You reached for the belt, loosened his fly and he cursed, your delicate fingers anything but around his dick. “Raise your hips?” You asked quietly and he did as requested as you laced your fingers in the waistband of his jeans, dragging them to his knee as he raised his feet from the floor and you disregarded them altogether. “Better?” You asked.

He scoffed a laugh, noting his lack of modesty in his boxer briefs. “I suppose. You look so sexy. Do you want where this is going? I need to know where to stop because I’ve wanted this so long, I dunno if I can give you what you deserve as slow and sweet or just to fuck you hard and fast.”

Both seemed delicious to you and he patted his powerful thighs, a seat you greatly appreciated. You picked up the skirt of your dress and drifted onto his lap, so close now you could feel the outline of his cock against your clothed core. “I wanna ride you,” you told him. “I’ve wanted to for so long.”

“Can’t wait to feel you,” he was doing everything in his power to remain calm. He’d pleaded to hear your words for so long and it was better than he ever expected. 

“Thought about it so many times,” you confided.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he sighed, brushing his hands through his mussed curls. 

“Have you seen you?” you asked him, tracing a gnarly scar on his shoulder.

“Have you seen you?” he retorted. “You are so fuckin’ far outta my league. If I had half a hint you were into me, I would have made a move months... years ago.” 

You gave him an easy smile. “So I guess that’s out.”

He laughed quietly. “Can’t take it back now,” he agreed, trying to remain calm. He really had no idea you felt like this, had such an urgency for him because if he knew, the politeness would have been over months ago. But, he figured, it was a nice full circle fucking near the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. It would be pretty hard to forget this day and moment. 

First kiss, first fuck. December 25. 

He was a simple man after all. 

“Hey,” you smiled fondly at him. “You with me?”

He grinned, hitching you closer to him. “Yeah, I’m so fuckin’ with you.”

“Then show me.”

“Well, I’m enjoying you in charge, but I will give you anything you want,” he reasoned.

You were encouraged by his words and may have suddenly grown bashful as he giggled quietly. You reached for the hem on his tee and lifted it over his head. “Your body is in so much better than I give you credit for.”

He rolled his eyes. To be honest, he knew. He worked hard on it so at times like this, whoever was with him knew it too. “Come here,” he laughed quietly. “Lemme show you what I can do with it, kid,” and he kissed you again. 

You appreciated his hands, they wear incredible. Strong, and everywhere. Tugging your hair, gripping your chin, pressing into the sides of your ribs, curling under your breasts, looking for the zip on the back of your dress - 

You gave him a negative hum. “No zip,” you giggled.

“Well, ya need to give me a hand here, because I got no fucking clue,” he teased. 

You gently pushed him back into the couch and stepped back, bunching the material in your palms and raising the soft garment over your head, letting it drop beside you.

“Oh,” he managed, mouth dry at the sight of you, naked except for a measly scrap of underwear. He reached for the whiskey before him and took a sip. As you moved back to him in only your undies, his eyes never left you. He offered you the glass that you finished and placed back on the table. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful. Lemme have you,” he urged, reaching his hands but you playfully hesitated. “If you’ll have me?” he looked at you with big puppy dog eyes.

That was new, you realised. You had to laugh as you dropped your undies to the floor and he eagerly removed his boxer briefs. His body hard, heavy and wanting. You held his face as his eyes fluttered closed to kiss you and you seated yourself again. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body against his. He could feel how wet you were - his inner thigh covered in your slick. 

“Can I touch you?” he begged.

“Anywhere,” you granted, kissing across his chest and again, his hands took the lead. Strong and they massaged your hips, desperate to touch every searing part of your body. His hands groped your ass and he gasped as you beat him to the punch, your soft palm lopping around his long cock and massaging in a rhythm that was, well frankly, perfect. 

“You beat me,” he joked, kissing you while you continued pumping him. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” you didn’t cease your actions as you kissed away his dismay.

“My condoms are in my room,” he muttered. 

“You clean?” you asked as he nodded once. “It’s your lucky day, champ, I’m on birth control. It’s okay,” you reassured him. 

“You sure?” he raised a concerned eyebrow.

“I’m a big girl, I make my own choices. And if you say you’re clean, I trust you.” 

He nodded slowly, impressed with your moxie. “You keep getting hotter in my estimation. Each time I think I’ve got you figured out... I realise I don’t know a goddamn thing.”

“Well, I’ll let you know something for now.”

“I’m all ears.” 

“Stop talking, start fucking,” you demanded. “Have you always been this chatty?” you teasingly accused.

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, guiding your eyes to his cock and you started again. “That’s perfect baby, but I don’t wanna cum in your pretty little hands.”

You nodded, adjusting your body closer to his and sunk down on his dick. It was a sweet stretch, Rooster’s clearly had something to strut about. You’d heard the rumours in passing about Rooster’s BDE and you could now comment on the affirmatory.

“That is...” your eyes rolled a little, bottoming out and adjusting to him inside you. “Amazing.”

“I know, baby,” he held your hips, watching intently where your bodies met and he waited keenly for you to move, but surprised him by kissing him and if it wasn’t the hottest thing, his tongue melding with yours. He appreciated the cockwarming, it was so personal and kind of sexy and when he least expected it, you started to slowly roll your hips, raising and falling along his cock. He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to see every single move you made, how your body flowed, how much you were enjoying yourself.

He desperately chewed his lower lip as you flicked your hair from your eyes, a little more intensity to your movements now and he was excited to move his hips to your rhythm, pushing his hips up and enjoying those oh-so-sexy moans that escaped those pretty lips you chewed to keep from calling out.

The next time you fuck, he vowed, Phoenix would not be in the next room. 

“Yes, baby, that is amazing,” he murmured, gripping your hips and forcing you down on him.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” you told him and kissed him madly. “Touch me, Rooster, please,” you begged.

He released your hips and protectively wrapped an arm behind you. He’d never understand why men couldn’t find the clit. They didn’t deserve the gifts that came with it if they didn’t dedicate the devotion it required and deserved. You hissed as he slipped his middle finger on the sensitive and you chewed your fist.

“Fuckin’ wake her,” he encouraged as your moans got louder, his wet tongue tracing around your nipple, and you wrapped your arms around his head, begging him to continue what he was doing. “Christ, you’re so tight. You’re so close.” 

“Wanna cum,” you managed, driving your hips further down and he hissed. 

“Come on, baby. Lemme feel you,” he dared. “You are so so so,” he grunted, his hip speeding up and needing the friction. “Sooo fucking close.” 

“Fuck,” you cried as Rooster’s hips pistoned roughly into you, and you saw stars. It was one of the most intense orgasms you’d had as you bit into his brawny shoulder to avoid yelling out. Rooster held both your hips, forcing you down on his, desperate for his release. “Do you want to finish another way?” you asked him sweetly, panting, spent. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, darkly. He gave a slow nod as you stood, legs a little shaky, and he bent you over, your hands gripping the end of the couch for life. 

You knew this would be a rough ride.

He breathed, collecting himself, his strong hands caressing your back and the curve of your ass that you slowly wriggled back at him enticingly. He let out a raw laugh. “Yes baby, I see you,” he licked his lip, almost unbelieving this was how his night ended up. “I see you.” 

He pumped himself a few times before gently pushing into you but there would be nothing sweet about it. He wanted to cum, and bonus if you did again after before, but he wouldn’t last long in this position. He teased you with his first few thrusts, savouring how wet and silky you felt but it only encouraged him. He clutched your hips and started to give his all, the sound of skin slapping harshly as you tried to keep your balance, his quads ripping into your ass and hamstrings, your unsteady legs faltering. 

He was all around and surrounded you. Had he always been this big? Had he always been this strong?

The whimper you made when he slapped your ass was one of the sweetest, hottest sounds he’d ever heard. His hips snapped into you harshly as he started to come. 

“God dammit,” he breathed, quickly pulling out and catching himself in his palm as he came white hot. “Holy shit,” he shuddered, lowering his chest to cover your back as you smiled and looked back, reaching and kissing him crudely. He held you tightly, kissing you with as much vigour, standing you and pulling you to face him. “You okay?” he stroked your cheek with his knuckle, a smile tugging at his lips. You were so blissfully fucked out and he’d never seen you more beautiful. You reached for his boxer briefs, realising he might want to tidy up. “Thanks.”

“Why did we wait so long for that?”

“I dunno,” he breathed with a laugh, tossing the underwear away. “C’mere,” he flopped onto the couch, and you snuggled into him. You tried to hide a small yawn, resting your forehead on his shoulder, bashfully. “All night?” he teased. You giggled into this golden skin.

“Might need a kip,” you admitted. He tenderly wrapped his arms around you and you trembled anyway. 

“Sure you’re okay? Not sore?” 

You shook your head. “Cold. Adrenaline waning.”

He kissed your temple and found his tee near his feet, latching on close enough to reach. “Ease back, baby,” he said quietly and lowered the shirt over your shoulders and moved back to lie down. “Get that kip, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, peppering hisses around his chest and he groaned. “Merry Christmas, Rooster.”

“Merry Christmas. Thank you for staying.”

“Thank you for planting the mistletoe,” you giggled as he grinned at him, sleep finding both of you quickly. 

“Well, this was bound to happen. About time, losers,” Natasha whispered to herself with a small smile, looking at Rooster on his back and you snuggled into his chest in his tee from last night on the couch. A throw blanket covered any lack of modesty from her gaze as the lights from the tree zoned in and out. “And ew,” she tiptoed out, closing the door behind her. 

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[marimayscarlett]

They all said the band could continue depending of which member would leave. Rammstein sound is Paul, Flake and Oliver first, lyrics and voice, Till. I believe if Schneider or Richard left, the band could continue with new members. Most famous riffs are from Paul after all, and the slow songs are from Oliver. Many guitarists could do as much as a good job as Richard and I doubt the majority of the public would notice outside the fandom. From Flake himself : depend on who's leaving.

Hi 👋 (

Wow, ok, there's a lot to unpack here. I'll try to work my way through it. (This is long, and I don't expect anyone to really read this.) I have to admit, I was a little taken aback when I opened this ask. In my opinion, it is strange and quite presumptuous for an outsider and a person who has no part whatsoever in the creative process of this band, to presume to be able to assess who in the band is dispensable. Following the logic of your thought process, in the sense of "many guitarists could do as much as a good job as Richard", you are discrediting any creative input and output this man has ever done in Rammstein, Emigrate and any band he was in before. That seems pretty unfair to the founder of a band you seem to like. (And interesting that once again the criticism is aimed at Richard - this man gets that from fans quite often...). Schneider also seems to find no mercy in your eyes and seems replaceable to you.

What I'm missing in your overall thought process, which looks at the matter from a purely technical point of view, is the interpersonal relationship between the members, the creative influence on one another, the support, the exchange of ideas between them which brings up new ones - all these factors which play a role in making the music what it ist.

I also find the statement that the quiet songs are from member x and the riffs from member Y too simple. Rammstein always emphasize how much of a democratic system they are, it's well known how many influences go into the songs. Sure, many components of the songs come from ideas of the individual members, and yet I think your statement is too short-sighted, that's not how songwriting works at Rammstein (something Richard also had to learn). A few examples that show how diverse the influences in the creative processes of the songs are:

In the song 'Engel', a riff from the song 'Be up to know' by Orgasm Death Gimmick is used - Richard's old band.

The song 'Mutter' dates way back - a first instrumental version was found on a demo tape by Richard from 1994. He himself mentioned he wrote this song for a wedding.

The song 'Heirate mich' reuses a riff from the song 'Klaus Kinski' by the Magdalene Keibel Combo, Flake's and Paul's old duo. Another riff which dates back to this Combo is used in 'Herzeleid'.

A little example for the band's creative instrumental process in a song: In 'Los', Till plays the harmonica, Olli couldn't stand it, Paul liked it and fought hard for it. Schneider contributed a lot to the aesthetic of the song with his blues guitar skill.

For 'Du hast', Flake and Richard largely contributed - the song is build on synth sequence by Flake and a riff by Richard.

The musical idea from 'Mein Teil' comes from Paul.

'Wilder Wein' was written musically and lyrically by Till (to impress the ladies).

A big joint project of the band was 'Deutschland', based on a demo tape by Richard, who was thinking of his family when writing the song.

While this wonderful post (@namelessrammgirl sure has a way with words 🤍) today listed what each band member contributes to the band, I'd also like to let the guys speak for themselves on the subject of the band ending and leaving - as we all know this has been a recurring theme:

Richard doesn't totally believe that the band can function if one member leaves. However, he says that looking back at music history, something like this always works, but the old chemistry is no longer there. He is very open about the fact that he would be ready for something other than Rammstein and would try out new things. He also talks about a rule within the group that if one of them quits, they continue to participate financially - so the subject of leaving (not only for Richard, who has often entertained this idea) was probably a general topic in the band. [source]

"As long as we feel that the ship is still sailing and the port has not yet been reached, we will continue. But if we were to enter a port, I wouldn't be sad." This statement comes from Paul. "We haven't talked specifically about an end yet, but we are aware of the fact that Rammstein is a finite story, even if there is no plan for it yet." This statement is from Schneider. [source] Both make it clear that Rammstein will come to an end for them at some point, Paul also mentions in this interview that the untitled album contains "truly a lot of blood, sweat and tears, anger and stress", Richard mentions that his ideas, even though he got on really well with Paul, were criticized a lot - as you can see, things are always bubbling in this band. It's not a question of who can do what technically well, there's a lot of interpersonal stuff at play here, which makes the band uniquely successful and the work in it uniquely difficult.

So while we shouldn't look at everything through rose-tinted glasses, the potential issue of 'who leaves the band and how do they move on afterwards' should absolutely and only be a matter for the people involved. We as fans should, in fact, be happy and grateful that after 30 years, internal conflicts, accusations and a terrible year 2023, this band still manages to work together, give us tours and unique music. It's always easy to moan and make suggestions for improvement - but in my opinion, it's not at all helpful.

[aspoonofsugar]

Adam: Stick It To The Man

When the world has screwed you And crushed you in its fist When the way you're treated Has got you good and pissed There's been one solution Since the world began Don't just sit and take it Stick it to the man

Stick It To The Man is a song from the School of Rock musical, which is referenced in Hazbin Hotel's episode 6:

Vaggie: "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man". Are you fucking serious? Adam: Uh, yeah. Sure got me here, didn't it?

Why is that so? There are two reasons:

Alex Brightman, who plays Adam, is also the protagonist Dewey Finn in the musical play

Adam and Dewey share several similarities to the point that Adam alludes to Dewey in some way

In short, Dewey's story inspired Adam's, so School of Rock can be useful to analyze Hazbin Hotel's First Man.

SCHOOL OF ROCK

Here comes a short summary of the movie/musical for whoever has never watched it (and should). If you already know the story, feel free to skip it.

Dewey Finn is a penniless musician, who dreams of becoming a rock star. He has no job and lives with his friend Ned and Ned's girlfriend Patty. All he does is playing rock with the "No Vacancy", his band. However, he is considered too over the top and self-centered by the other members and is expelled. Meanwhile Ned's girlfriend gets fed up with him and imposes an ultimatum. He either pays the rent or leaves.

Dewey finds himself in a pinch. On the one hand he wants to win the Battle of the Bands, but he has no band. On the other hand he needs to buy time and find some money to pay Patty. So, when he answers a phone call for Ned and discovers his friend is asked to be a substitude teacher, he decides to take his place. He poses as Ned Schneebly and starts teaching a class of kids.

He soon discovers the kids are gifted at music and devises a new plan. He forms a band with his class, so that they can all take part in the Battle of the Bands. By doing so, he starts truly bonding with the children. He encourages them to discover more about rock, nurtures their artistic talents, creates a strong sense of comraderie within the class. Basically, the kids were used to a strict environment, but through Dewey, they taste freedom, creativity and learn to challenge the system. Dewey himself starts changing, as he becomes more responsible and selfless for the kids' sake.

The kids pass the audition and are admitted to the Battle of the Bands. However, just before it, Dewey is asked to report his students' progress to their families in a teacher-parent meeting. There Patty and Ned arrive and unmask him, so the situation degenerates into chaos and Dewey is forced to run away.

All seems lost, but the kids have grown fond of Dewey and forgive his lie. They escape school, go to their teacher's house and encourage him to take part with them in the competition. Dewey and the kids make a great performance and get through to the public, including the parents, who realize how much Dewey's "rock lessons" have helped their children. In the end, the class doesn't win, but they get an encore.

In the epilogue, it is revealed Dewey is teaching music in an approved after-school program. So, Dewey finds his place in society, all while teaching the new generations how to live in a rock'n roll way.

So, what does the detestable Adam have in common with the lovable Dewey? Well, for starters, both love rock.

I FUCKING ROCK

Adam: I know. I fucking rock.

Adam has a rock motif, which emerges strongly in his first meeting with Charlie. He plays in a rock band, has studs on his tunic and materializes a golden guitar he performs a metal solo with:

Adam: Guitar solo, fuck yeah!

Not only that, but his song Hell Is Forever is hard rock, whereas the other pieces are inspired by traditional musicals.

Dewey too is passionate about rock and loves playing. In particular, he dreams of becoming a rock-star:

Dewey: I'll be strummin' my axe in a basement dive with my totally kick-ass band! When an army of A&R men will arrive with pens and contracts in hand! And they'll whisk me away in a big, black car And the record execs, and the girls from PR They'll know from the start what a major league star I will be! Just wait and see! (...) I'll rise and I'll rise and I'll rise And the wings of my soul Up where I belong! And I'll climb to the top of Mount Rock And be part of that heavenly scene With Odin and Zeus on the base and the drums And Thor playin' tamborine And Elvis and Janice and Kurt will appear And Jesus will toss me a beer And we'll jam 'round the clock! At the top of Mount Rock At the top of Mount Rock At the top of Mount Rock!

These are the beginning and the end of the song When I Climb To The Top Of Mount Rock, which is Dewey's introductory song.

He imagines to kick ass with his axe-guitar:

And his badass band:

While climbing to the top of Mount Rock to be part of a heavenly scene:

Oh look! Adam got Dewey's wish! Why is that so? Let's head at the heart of the two characters' foiling.

Both Adam and Dewey feel like losers.

Adam loses not one, but two wives to Lucifer:

Lucifer: Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer… or the second, bow-chicka-pow-pow!

Dewey is instead broken, has no success and is forced to live with his best friend:

Patty: Give up your dreams Your dreams are lame and weak Can't you see you're talent free You sad, deluded freak Time's up, you loser And soon you'll have to pay Sell the vinyl, pawn the amps And put your little dreams away

Both are also very childish to the point of being men-children:

Adam: Here's my personal favorite. You'll love it. Charlie: Uh…thanks. Charlie tries to take a piece of rib, but her hand passes right through them, as they fizz on and off from the touch. Adam laughs. Adam: I got you again, bitch! Fuckin' hilarious!

Patty: No more excuses, there's nothing to discuss Ditch your pointless, futile dreams And join the grown up world like us

This immaturity shows in their power fantasy of getting revenge on the world. They wanna prove their detractors wrong:

Dewey: And no one will call me a loser again Or tell me what I can't do!

The difference is that, at the beginning of their respective stories, Dewey is failing, while Adam has succeeded:

Adam: Are they Winners? Are they Sinners? 'Cause it's cut and dry.

Adam is by his own definition a winner, as he has been judged worthy of Heaven. He can enjoy an eternal life of happiness and bliss, while looking down on his most hated rival, since Lucifer is instead banished to Hell.

In short:

Dewey and Adam are losers, who share a childish dream of fame and success

Dewey has this dream negated to him, whereas Adam fulfills this fantasy

Adam is Dewey's desire incarnated. He is a winged soul (quite literally), who has reached the very top. He can play his music with angels and he himself is a legend:

Adam: So, I was playin' this gig, and for some fuckin' reason, this virtue chick was diggin' on the drummer, and it's like, "do you know who I am? I'm fuckin' Adam. I'm the original dick!" All dicks descend from me. You think you want drummer dick? No way! I'm the Dick-fuckin' master!

He is the rockstar Dewey dreams of becoming. But is he really the embodyment of rock? Let's take a closer look.

THE BAND IS MINE

Dewey: You think you'll be just fine Without me, but you're mine You think you can just kick me out of the band? Well, there's just one problem there The band is mine! How can you kick me out of what is mine? Well, you're not hardcore Unless you live hardcore!

School of Rock starts with Dewey being kicked out of his own band because he is too selfish. Later on, he slowly overcomes his selfishness as he forms a new band with the kids. By working with them he realizes what it means to be part of a group. Not only that, but as a teacher he listens to the kids and helps them discover their individuality:

Tamika, a student: I was lost, lost and in pain So much hurt bottled inside All the things I should've said I just kept trying to hide And I thought nobody could But you, you understood i needed to share And only you would listen Hoped someone would care And only you would listen You raised my voice up taught me not to fear I've learned who I am because you're here

Adam too is part of a band and he is its leader:

Adam: Haha, yeah! Ladies, let's fuck shit up! [accompanied by a guitar sting] ATTACK!

Adam's bond with the exorcists can be commented on multiple levels.

1- A man among women

Adam is the only man among an army of women and he is the one in command. This ties with Adam's misogyny. As a matter of fact he builds a harem of badass ladies ready to fight for him. In a sense, Adam has his own army of groupies to objectify:

This is shown also through his biblical motifs:

Adam's favourite food is ribs because in the Bible Eve is created from his rib. Similarly, he makes the exorcists at his image and likeliness. He sees them as an extension of himself.

Adam: You were on the front lines, I wouldn't forget a bad bitch like you. It's why I named you after the best thing ever. Vaggie.

He is the one giving Vaggie her name, just like in the Bible Adam names animals. So, Vaggie is symbolically equated to a beast.

On this last point, he probably named the other exorcists, as well, which leads us to three considerations:

Adam chooses for Vaggie the most insulting and objectifying name possible, as he literally calls her vagina.

Lute too is called after an object. Not just any object, but an instrument angels play. She isn't supposed to be a performer, but just a musical device.

Typically, the one naming another person is their parent.

2- Parent and daughters

Carmilla abt the exorcists: By showing you the flaws in your own fighting style. Yours and all your sisters'.

The exorcists are "sisters" and Adam is their authority figure and metaphorical father. He is the one giving them names and a place to belong. However, they must obey his orders and live up to his standards. Cause, if they don't:

Vaggie is taught to fight, kill and hate. The moment she gives in to pity, she is immediately punished and discarded with no second thoughts. She is even used as a cautionary tale:

Adam: Prepare to slaughter every sinner in that shit hotel, and you all remember Vaggie? Exorcists: Boo! We hate her!

In short, Adam acts towards the exorcists as an abusive parent, who gives conditional acceptance. They have value only if they succeed. This one-sided mentality is perfectly shown by Lute and Vaggie:

Lute telling Vaggie to kill her: Do it, then. Correct your mistake.

Vaggie to Charlie: I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to never fail you. If I can't help you, what's the point of me?

Lute sees Vaggie sparing someone, be them a sinner or Lute herself, as wrong. Vaggie is sure Charlie won't love her back, if she isn't useful. These behaviors are not innate in the two girls. They are the result of their upbringing by Adam. The First Man's controlling nature shows also in his band's looks.

3- Mask and horns

Adam has all the exorcists comform:

They wear the same mask, the same horns and the same uniform. Basically, they all dress the way Adam likes. Moreover, the exorcists have their faces hidden because they are not allowed to be people. They can only be Adam's copies. Soldiers under him.

What's interesting about this is that Adam's style is rock and metal inspired, so he forces the girls to adopt this look too. However, rock is supposed to be about self-expression, freedom and rebellion. Adam instead takes this aesthetic and turns it into a repressive military uniform. He takes something born to challenge the system and turns it into the system.

THE MAN

Dewey: THE WORLD is run by the Man. Oh, you don't know the Man? He's everywhere. In the White House, down the hall, MISS MULLINS, she's the Man. And the Man ruined the ozone, and he's burning down the Amazon, and he kidnapped Shamu and put her in a chlorine tank! Okay? And there used to be a way to stick it to the Man, it was called rock 'n roll. But guess what? Oh no. The Man ruined that, too, with a little thing called MTV! So don't waste your time trying to make anything cool, or pure, or awesome, 'cause the Man is just gonna call you a fat washed up loser and crush your soul. So do yourselves a favor and just GIVE UP!

Dewey teaches his students about the Man, who represents the system and corrupts everything, even rock'n roll. Well, Adam is the embodyment of the Man.

He is hierarchy:

Adam: 'Cause Hell is forever Whether you like it or not Had their chance to behave better Now they boil in the pot 'Cause the rules are black and white There's no use in tryin' to fight it They're burnin' for their lives Until we kill 'em again!

He is misogyny:

Adam: Just try to chillax, babe You're wasting your breath Charlie: Hehe…

He calls Charlie a loser and tells her to give up her dream:

Adam: Fuckin' Hell is forever And it's meant to suck a lot! So give up your dumb endeavor 'Cause you don't have a shot!

He presents himself as a hard rocker, but is actually the enemy of rock itself. After all, he is the very first man:

Charlie: Wait, your name is Adam? Like the first man Adam, that means you…Oh… That explains so much.

Adam's true nature is conveyed through his design, as well. He is one of the few characters with no animal motif because his animal motif is that to be "the man". That's it. And despite wearing metal and rock accessories, his tunic resembles a letterman jacket. He is an arrogant jock masked as a rocker.

Adam isn't who Dewey wants to really become, but he is who our rock'n roll teacher risks to become, if he doesn't grow up. A betrayal of rock. Let's consider this:

Dewey: I pledge allegiance… to the band… of Mr. Schneebly… and will not fight him… for creative control… and will defer to him on all issues related to the musical direction of the band.

This is what Dewey has the kids repeat when they join the band. It sounds like a cultish creed. Luckily, as the story progresses, Dewey learns to work with the students and helps them express their needs and personalities. Adam, instead, doesn't develop and traps the exorcists in a violent and controlling environment, where their personhood is negated. He is both:

The leader of an extremist religious cult

A rockstar surrounded by adoring fans

This double metaphor is conveyed through a religious reference:

Adam materializes a group of golden exorcists (both an army and a band), which alludes to the golden calf. According to the Bible, Moses goes up to Mount Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments, but takes a long time and the Israelites lose hope. They start adoring a calf made of gold, only to be called out by an angered Moses once he gets back. In short, the golden calf is a false god, an idol. Adam too is an idol, both in the religious sense and in the musical sense. He is a fake angel and a fake rocker. He lives in Heaven, but his beliefs are rotten. He plays hard rock, but his spirit has nothing to do with it. He is a sinful angel and a metaphorical rockstar who sold himself out. So, he is the fake calf that needs to be broken.

How does one do it? Dewey teaches his students the answer:

Dewey: Get all of your aggression out They try to stop you let 'em know Exactly where they all could go And do it just as loudly as you can Stick it to the man

And who is the one who sticks it to Adam?

CHARLIE, CHILD OF ROCK

Charlie and Emily: If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again

This stanza of You Didn't Know is Charlie's answer to Adam. The First Man sings that Hell is Forever, whereas the Princess of Hell believes redemption is not only possible, but necessary for Heaven to work. Charlie's reply addresses a systemic issue and challenges the status quo, which is why it is much more punk rock than Adam's stance:

Adam and Lute: There's no question to be posed He's unholy, case closed Did you forget that "Hell is forever"?

In general, the court scene makes clear who represents the system (the Man) and who is trying to change it (the Rocker). Adam is in a position of power over Charlie and is backed up by Sera, the highest authority in the room. Charlie is instead at the very bottom of the hierarchy, as she is a "hell-spawn" and the Devil's daughter. This is shown by the seating arrangement:

Adam and Charlie are the two sides arguing, so they should be on the same level. However, the First Man seats in a higher position than the Princess of Hell. That symbolically conveys Sera has already decided who is gonna win:

Sera: Well, you failed to control the demons' unrest, and now Lucifer is involved, setting up an audience for his misguided daughter.

No matter what Charlie says or does: she has no chance to begin with. And yet, for just a moment, she and Emily break the order:

They look down on both Sera and Adam and call out their hypocrisy. The two girls tower over the two angels because they have the moral high ground. They sing in princess-like voices, but their lines slap as the hardest and noblest rock can. This is why their duet is a reprise of Hell is Forever. They are schooling Adam on what rock'n roll truly is.

Adam might look the part, but Charlie is Hazbin Hotel's true rocker, just like she is the messianic archetype of the series:

Angel Dust and Vaggie: Can't we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood? Charlie: That's an… option you could choose Angel Dust and Vaggie: Works for us! Charlie: But, who hasn't been in his shoes? It starts with sorry!

Jesus: He who is without sin among you, let him throw a stone at her first (John 8:7)

In the Gospel, an adulteress is brought to Jesus, so that he can order to stone her. Jesus instead asks that whoever has never committed sin throws the first stone. Nobody does and the woman is saved. This is similar to how Charlie steps in for Sir Pentious and convinces Angel and Vaggie to show mercy.

Charlie is clearly inspired by Jesus to an extent. She is the one willing to embrace humanity as a whole. Especially the wretched, the sinners and the outcasts:

Charlie: I can hear all their stories The lost and displaced And I know that they're more of an acquired taste But if I open the door and I give them a place At my Hazbin Hotel It'll be a happy day in Hell!

Adam is linked to an empy golden idol, whereas Charlie is set up as the savior of the world.

When it comes to the School of Rock motif, Hazbin Hotel takes Dewey's character and divides him into two:

Adam is Dewey's want. He is who Dewey initially wants to be. A shallow rockstar, who is self-centered and childish. A selfish prick showered with praise and success.

Charlie is Dewey's need. She is who Dewey eventually needs to be. A helper. Someone who makes the silenced voices heard. Dewey discovers he can be a rocker in a new band with the kids. Charlie slowly grows into the Princess of Hell thanks to her found family of misfits.

These two sides of Dewey and of rock itself come to a final clash in the Hazbin Hotel's reinterpretation of the Battle of the Bands: Extermination Day.

THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS

School of Rock's climax is the Battle of the Bands, where the School of Rock (Dewey's new band) faces off against the No Vacancy (Dewey's old band):

The Hazbin Hotel has a sign with the words "No Vacancy". That is used in hotels when there are no rooms left. However, it also alludes to the School of Rock's rivals.

The competition is where Dewey's character arc reaches its conclusion in two different ways.

He is unmasked, but the kids forgive him and accept him for who he is.

The School of Rock lose the battle, but they are the moral winners, as they touch the hearts of the public. Thanks to this, Dewey himself learns what rock is really about:

Summer Hathaway: What's wrong? Dewey Finn: What's wrong, Summer? Didn't you hear? We lost! Freddy Jones: Hey, chill out, dude. Rock isn't about getting an A. The Sex Pistols never won anything. Lawrence: Don't let the Man get you down. Zack Mooneyham: Yeah I mean, dude, you gotta cheer up. We played a kick-ass show. Dewey Finn: We did, didn't we? It was unbelievable, wasn't it?

Adam's Extermination Day is an inversion of both these resolutions.

1-Unmasked

Adam is forced to show his true face, as Lucifer breaks his mask:

And who is the real Adam? He is a man who can't get over a woman (Lilith) choosing someone else (Lucifer). So, he acts as a bully to hide his wounded masculinity.

Adam's real essence is hinted at by his final outfit, which has a golden leaf on the front. This is a reference to the fig leaf the biblical Adam uses to cover up his nudity out of shame. Such a detail can be read in two ways:

As an inversion of the original story. In the Bible Adam covers his penis, while in Hazbin Hotel the First Man puts emphasis on it through an accessory.

As a metaphor in line with the religious tradition. Biblical Adam hides his reproductive organ out of embarassement. Similarly, Hazbin Adam hides the fact he isn't such a great lover by overselling his sexual prowess. Both are ashamed of their dicks, even if for different reasons.

In short, Dewey is unmasked, but discovers a rocker behind the loser. Adam instead gets outed as a loser behind the rockstar.

2- Winning and Losing

Adam overpowers Charlie, but is stopped thanks to the bonds the girl nurtured throughout the series. Charlie can't win against Adam by herself, but this is ultimately not important. As a matter of fact Adam is defeated by Lucifer, killed by Niffty and proven wrong about redemption by Sir Pentious.

So, Adam loses, but he is given one final chance to mature and change by Charlie. However, he refuses it:

Adam: No… you don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something! I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers-!

Adam's final rant reveals the Man behind the Idol. both in a religious and in a musical sense.

On the one hand Adam compares himself to God, which is blasphemy. This just makes the juxtaposition with the Princess of Hell stronger, as Charlie references Jesus's sacrifice during her final stand:

Adam: Why would you endanger your immortal life for these sinners? Charlie: They’re my family!

On the other hand Adam's speech can be juxtaposed to Dewey's final one to the kids:

Dewey: Okay, listen up, you guys, we only have one song to let these guys know who we are…so I think we should play Zack's. Zack: But why? I mean…really? Dewey: Yes! The thing is, you guys, I ain't that good. I'm not, I can admit it, but, dude, you're ten years old, you're already better than me, your song rocks harder, so let's play it! But hey, you know what? That's just one guy's opinion. This ain't my band, it's our band, we all have a say.

Adam is so self-centered he makes the whole universe about himself. Dewey instead accepts he has not enough talent to be a rockstar, but realizes he can help others bloom. Adam torments his descendants by exterminating them. Dewey finds happiness in nurturing the new generations. That is why the teacher is eventually loved by his students, while the exorcist is killed by a metaphorical child:

STICK IT TO THE ANGEL

Niffty: What can I do to help? Charlie: How about this. If you see an angel, stab it!

Niffty is:

An abused housewife who adores being ordered around by "bad boys"

Everyone's inner child, which is why she is cared about, as if she were a kid

She is the perfect character to land the finishing blow to Adam. On the one hand the First Man is dominated by a masochist woman, who thinks nothing of him. On the other hand the Man-Child is killed by the embodyment of childhood itself. Adam is a fratbro who fails to question his toxic masculinity and a person who never grows up. He is the Man, so he is rightfully stuck by one of Charlie's rock students:

Lucifer: Hey, y-ya got somethin' stickin' outta your… your thing there.

Katie Killjoy: The janitor said, quote, "Charlie told me to stab, so I did".

As a matter of fact it is Charlie, who teaches Niffty how to stick it to the man. She confirms herself as the true rock teacher, just like Dewey. That is because both realize "rock" is not about individualism, but about community. Like a class. Like a hotel.

CONCLUSION

Hazbin Hotel uses Adam's musical inspiration to comment on his character and on what he represents thematically. He is introduced as an expy of Dewey Finn, but is soon revealed as his deconstruction. He is who Dewey would be if he never got to the School of Rock and never learnt what this musical genre truly stands for. In short, Adam needs some rock repetitions :P If you read up until here, congratulations! Hope you enjoyed it and that it wasn't too unclear or confusing :)

[dichromaticdyke]

🗣 - Silly question, especially since this is your blog and you can say/do whatever, but is there anything you've always wanted to talk about/say/ramble on about Skwisgaar that you feel like you've never had the chance or right opportunity to talk about?

*deep sigh* what a can of worms.

skwisgaar with the yard wolves. wolves are the ones who led him to his guitar, who chased him into the hole where he would find his destiny. they were there when he re-learned his destiny, standing with him as he become the first member of the band to learn of his divine nature. the wolves are there with him when no one else is. he's not a lone wolf, as much as he wants to believe he is. he has to run with a pack, just as the swedish wolves and the yard wolves do.

birds of prey. his ancient animal form being a white owl or falcon, the flash of the hawk or falcon or whatever (i'm not a birder idk what these are someone help me) in his "Ams a God" song along with the wolves. his freedom, his ability to tear anyone else apart, but his ultimate grace winning out.

the fact that he has the most drastic wardrobe shift from anyone else. the white-on-white with a swedish belt buckle contrasted to the rest of dethklok's dark colors, signalling him as an outsider, a foreigner, someone on the fringes of the band. he doesn't even speak in any of these flashbacks until he's arguing why he should be the only guitarist of dethklok. and not only does he change his tune on that, but realizing that he does need another guitarist to elevate himself is what finally gives him a connection to the rest of the band, shedding his white-on-white and swedish belt bucklet to darker clothes and a skull, more closely matching the aesthetics of everyone else.

his passion for playing guitar overriding anything else. his drive for perfection, even at the risk of his own body. i can't remember the exact moment i decided skwisgaar was mine, but if i had to guess, it would be the skydiving moment for that exact reason. he's dedicated to his craft, no matter what, in a way that no one else in the band can match.

he's goofy more than anything, and he longs for approval. he struggles both with his language barrier and his undiagnosed autism, but he desperately wants everyone else's approval, though he'd never admit it. the way he gets defensive and angry when no one likes his idea for murderface's gift always stands out to me. his debilitating insecurity goes beyond just guitar. it took years, but he does want to be included in the band, he does want to be friends and family with these idiots, but he's scared of abandonment and he has walls up by default.

he was in a million bands. they all either broke up, kicked him out, or he left. dethklok is the only one that worked out, and i think part of him always worried that they wouldn't. he got to a point with them that he felt like he didn't have to worry about that anymore, but then nate and pickles had to go and fuck that all up. he says, "i was gettings pretty used to dis gigs" as a wall, to act like he doesn't care, to try to convince himself not to care. but look at him in the press conference:

and look at him compared to the rest of the band:

he is visibly more upset than any of them. he cares about dethklok--the band, the music, his friends, his family--more than anything in the goddamn world. and it makes me fucking angry when people paint him as just the pretty, slutty, mean blond of the group, because he arguably has the biggest goddamn heart, he just hides it because of his fear of losing everything and his toxic masculinity. but fuck he loves them all so goddamn much.

[nukaberries]

Ahh im so happy to find a blog that writes new vegas! I got into it recently and its so fun! Sometimes i get tired of hearing the radio especially if im travelling way too much, so i just start singing any song that pops into my head or talk to the companions like they're real pfft

im also way too cheery for my own good lmao, game devs knew what they were doing when there was no push button for running, you know how many times i ran into mines and kept running 🧍🏽

I kinda wanna know how the companions would react to that? A Courier who practically bounces as they walk and if its not the radio or them talking to fill the silence, its them singing as they shoot radscorpions !! Couriers not half bad at singing either! They mostly sing quietly while walking the mojave for obvious reasons but on a night they feel especially safe, they'll be singing so well people will wonder why they're not making holotapes for mr new vegas to play (esp if they say the radio gets annoying at times)im sorry this is long im just excited to see a new vegas writer that hasnt left their blog 🤧

I'm SO late to this one, I'm so sorry! But I'm so glad you're enjoying New Vegas! It's tied with Red Dead Redemption 2 as one of my favourite video games! And I'm exactly the same when I play New Vegas, the radio's never off and I have no spatial awareness. I hope this was worth the wait!! (Sorry again lmao)

//

Companions React to a Loud/Chatty Courier (Includes: Arcade, Boone, Cass, Lily, Raul and Veronica)

Arcade Gannon Admittedly, he's a little intimidated at first. He agrees to go with the Courier since there's no point in him sticking around Freeside where he's not helping anyone. He just doesn't realise he's taken up with the most obnoxious person in the West. He's not annoyed by any means, in fact, the singing is actually quite a nice change from the radio. The constant talking is a little overwhelming for him at first though, as someone whose trying his best to keep his past with the Enclave a secret. He knows the Courier means no harm, and he feels a little guilty having to shut down their questions about him, knowing that they only mean well. They do bring out a different side to him he didn't know he had and he sometimes finds himself humming along to either the radio or Six's singing.

Craig Boone At first, he's annoyed by the Courier, but it's not like he has anything better to do. They're his best chance at wiping out the Legion, even if their incessant talking and singing is a little too much for him. He doesn't have a problem with them, but he prefers silence to having to begrudgingly answer someone who talks at a million miles per hour. The only time he'll really voice his complaints is when he actually needs them to be quiet, such as if they're trying to stealthily take out enemies, thankfully the Courier seems to know when to turn off their radio and stop singing. Eventually, the constant chatter and the singing - that he'll never admit is actually enough to rival the radio songs - become background noise he learns to appreciate. He'll never join in with the Courier's singing, but he tries his best to answer their questions and respond to their comments.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy Cass is another one who can't stand the Courier's chatter and singing at first, however, she's more than willing to voice this. A few times, she actually hid the Courier's Pip-Boy while they slept, unfortunately for Cass, they'd already memorised all the lyrics to Johnny Guitar and sung that on repeat for most of the day. It was starting to reach the point where Cass was certain they were doing it on purpose. The singing she hated, but the talking? She didn't mind the talking. In fact, Cass actually looked forward to the talking, she often struggled to make friends, considering her problems with whiskey, so it was nice to just make conversation sometimes. Sure, she'd still keep trying to put an end to the singing, no matter how good it was, but the talking Cass could live with.

Lily Bowen The first time Lily started travelling with the Courier, she was thrilled. Everyone in Jacobstown took life a little too seriously and being with the Courier was a refreshing change for her. Unlike most of the other companions, Lily actually loves the singing and the talking. She'll even suggest that the Courier tries their hand at singing on the Strip, the Tops and the Atomic Wrangler are always looking for new acts after all. Lily will even try and sing along with them, before realising her voice doesn't exactly compliment or rival the Courier's, but so long as they encourage to join in, she always will. The talking is just as lovely for her, it's nice to know that the Courier still cares about their grandma, even if they are growing up so fast.

Raul Tejada Never in all his years of being alive has he met someone like the Courier. It was one thing that they managed to deal with Tabitha, but the fact that they did it with Radio New Vegas playing on full blast from their Pip-Boy? Raul wasn't sure whether to be impressed or absolutely terrified. He leans more towards the latter once he starts travelling with them, struggling to keep up with the Courier constantly asking him questions about where he's from and what his life was like before the war and how he turned ghoul. Like Arcade, Raul finds it overwhelming and eventually asks politely if the Courier can calm down a little with all the questions, thankful when they actually oblige. He learns to love the Courier in spite of their loud habits, even being happy to fix their Pip-Boy when it stops letting them connect to the radio stations. It's against his better judgement, but they seem grateful for it.

Veronica Santangelo She immediately bonds with the Courier over their love for Radio New Vegas. Veronica wishes she had her own Pip-Boy so she could listen to the radio in her own free time, since lugging a radio around the Mojave Desert doesn't seem like the best idea. She absolutely loves the Courier's singing too, insisting that they don't forget her once they make it big in some bar in New Reno. She also tries her best to be the Courier's backup singer when wandering the wasteland, however, she accidentally stumbles up on a lot of her lyrics and trying to pronounce "Agua Fria" at the start of Big Iron quickly becomes the bane of her existence. Veronica also loves to gossip with the Courier, about her love life - and the Courier's if they're willing to disclose it - and all her least favourite things about her commanding officers in the Brotherhood. Whenever she travels with Six, Veronica manages to get a lot of off her chest

[the-baby-lasagna-blog]

We Won This Together - a Baby Lasagna fanfic

Who: Baby Lasagna / Marko Purisic Request: i would like to ask you if you could do a enemies to friends to lovers fanfic about Marko x female reader. Like the reader is representing Switzerland (sorry Nemo- is till love him 🫶🏽) and both her and Marko are always high on the odds. Like one day it is her song and the other day it is marko’s the first and so on. They always have a small competition going on between them. And for example during the finale she would look at marko and wink at him every time Switzerland got 12 points. And even during free time between the semifinals and final they would always tease each other and so on. Like even the journalists would always ask them questions about each other and they would answer with full of sass. Requested by: @wife-of-jonathan-kent Word count: 1277 Warnings: none

With the bookmakers there had only ever been two songs which were tipped to win the Eurovision Song Contest this year: yours and Marko's. Both of you were participating with similar types of songs: rock genre, sung in English, and both containing a piece of dance that was already being mimicked everywhere. Every day it differed who was leading the polls, you or him.

You had met Marko a few times before the Eurovision, back when he was playing guitar for the band Manntra. Somehow, you had had the feeling he didn't really like you. He didn't speak much and kept mostly to himself, so you weren't quite sure what to think of him either.

But your opinion on him changed rather quickly when you got to know him better during the Eurovision. In the days leading up to the big final, the whole world seemed to go crazy for both your songs, and the media wanted nothing more than to get the two of you together for interviews.

That was how you learned that Marko's behavior, which you had interpreted as hateful and rude, was in fact caused by his shyness and lack of confidence. You were the complete opposite of that: outgoing, strong-minded yet bubbly, and not backing down from any challenge. You realized that his behavior towards you before, was probably because he was somewhat intimidated by the whirlwind that was you.

Slowly, Marko started to open up to you, and you got to know the other side of him. The side that was joking, rather cheeky and funny, and the two of you were getting closer.

---

Today was the big day: the final. Both you and Marko had performed rather early in the show, and now began the long wait in the green room. Your delegation and Marko's were assigned booths next to each other, so you chatted happily with him all during the evening.

"According to the last polls, you're back on top," Marko winked. "For now," you teased, "but I know you can have me switching on positions at any moment." Marko mulled over your words, whilst frowning at the big screen which showed the live show. "I might," he finally grinned, "but maybe I like you on top."

You nearly spit out the sip of water you had just taken. "Mr. Purisic!" You laughed. "Go wash that mouth." He chuckled cheekily. The shy, silent Marko of earlier in the week had disappeared completely, and you were glad to see he apparently felt confident and safe around you now. And you had to admit: maybe you felt some things for him as well.

Your conversation was cut short by the results ceremony starting. "Good luck." You winked at Marko before returning to your own entourage. "You, too," Marko answered sincerely. "May one of us win."

---

The results ceremony was a rollercoaster. Just as with the bookmakers, you and Marko were constantly switching for the number one and two position. Every country was either giving their 12 points to you or him, and the difference in points between the both of you was only marginal.

Even though nerves coursed through your body, and you were sure Marko's as well, you and Marko started a running gag. Each time one of you got the 12 points, you made a joking or teasing gesture to the other one. It went from a wink to a hand kiss, and from a thumbs up to the sign of the horns. Each gesture was met with loud cheers from the crowd, who had fully fallen for the obvious connection between you and Marko by now.

After all the jury votes had been announced, the difference between you and Marko was only 20 points. Right now, you were in the lead, but everything was still possible with the televotes still to be announced.

As was to be expected, you and Marko were the last two to receive your televotes. The show's presenters were building up the tension, and you actually feared you might faint from the nerves.

You startled slightly when someone suddenly grabbed your hand. It was Marko. Probably against every regulation, he had sat down next to you in your country's booth. "We've done this together so far," he chuckled. You felt his hand tremble around yours, and you knew he was just as nervous as you were. The beads of sweat standing out on his forehead betrayed the downright panic going on in his head. You couldn't blame him, you were feeling the exact same thing.

"And the winner is..." This was the moment. It was either you or Marko, and, frankly, you were happy with either result. It was far more than you had expected anyway, so you would gladly take a second place as well. Marko's hand tightened around yours. He gave you a terrified smile as you looked at him, a look, you were sure, was mirrored on your face.

"The winner is..." The presenters were making you wait for it. You and Marko both squeezed each other's hands half to mush with nerves. And just when you thought you were going to pass out with the tension, the presenters suddenly exclaimed the result.

"Switzerland is the winner!"

It didn't immediately land with you. You heard the words, saw them on the big screen, but somehow they didn't make sense yet. Marko was the first to wrap his arms around you, hug you and congratulate you, before he retreated and left you to celebrate with your team.

Everything was a blur after that. Every person you came across congratulated you, as you went back out on stage to accept the trophy and make a short speech. The winning performance of your song you gave wasn't even an active memory. You sang and performed completely on auto-pilot whilst in your head you were still coming to terms with what had just happened.

Only when you stepped off the stage, clutching the trophy in your hands, was when the rollercoaster of emotions of the past weeks finally came out. Everything you had ever worked so hard for, suddenly burst out of you in a waterfall of tears.

There you stood, backstage, crying into your hands covering your face, with loads of crew still hurrying around you.

"Hey." You felt arms snake around you and pull you into a warm, loving hug. You half-opened your eyes and immediately recognized the white lace of Marko's costume.

Marko gently held you in his arms as you now buried your face into his shoulder and continued sobbing. "I'm sorry I beat you," you sniffled. Marko's chest shook under your face with his rumbling laughter. "No, no," he said softly, "I'm glad I lost to you."

You slowly lifted your head to look at him. Your make-up was all smudged from crying. "Nice look," Marko teased. You laughed, trying to undo some of the damage with your sleeve. "Jerk."

"But I mean it." Marko's tone turned sincere. "I don't mind losing to you." He slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed you protectively against his side. "Maybe we can agree that we won this together?" You suggested with a grin. "I like that." Marko smirked happily.

There was a moment of hesitation on his face, before he slowly leaned in to give you a kiss. He went slow enough that you could have protested at any moment, but you weren't even thinking about it.

Marko released the kiss, but kept his face close to yours, looking deeply into your eyes. "Because, let's face it," he grinned, "I might not have won Eurovision, but I surely won something else."

If you would like to make a request for a fanfic, you can do so through my Ask Box. Please do read this post, to see some topics I won't write about.

[gingerjunhan]

heyy!! i was wondering if you can do a jiseok imagine where he teaches reader how to play the guitar! something really domestic and fluff

i absolutely love your writing btw !!💗

☆彡 ahh such a sweet request! Thank you anon! Fair warning, I don’t have experience playing the guitar (although I’d love to learn), so if things here aren’t exact that’s why. Hope you’re having a great day, and tysm for the love! 🩷

word count: 841 | pronouns used: none | genre: established relationship, domestic cuteness | cws: none!, lmk if I missed any :)

You were laying on Jiseok’s bed, doom-scrolling through TikTok. At the foot of his bed, Jiseok was practicing his guitar- strumming away at a tune you didn’t recognize.

“What’cha playin?” You asked in a sing-song tone.

“I’m trying to think of some ideas for some new songs.” He admitted, not looking away from this hand on the neck of his guitar. “Shh… don’t tell anybody.”

You laughed lightly at him and turned your phone off. “You’re so talented,” you stated. “I wish I could do that.”

He finally looked at you fully. “Do what?”

“Play the guitar. I mean, look at you. Everything you play sounds so good, and you’re able to write entire songs on your own.”

Jiseok fought back a smile as an idea popped into his head. “I could teach you.”

“What?”

“I could teach you how to play the guitar. I have more than one. I could give you lessons.”

You thought about this for a second. If you were being honest with yourself, you would feel pretty embarrassed if Jiseok tried to teach you how to play the guitar and you ended up being terrible at it. Then again, you would rather be terrible in front of him than an instructor.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’d let you teach me.”

Jiseok’s face lit up. “Great! Then it’s time for your first lesson at Jiseok’s guitar school!” Jiseok takes off his guitar strap and hands you the instrument. “For lesson one, I’m just going to teach you some basic chords.”

You nodded your head as you put on the guitar strap and placed a hand on the neck of the guitar- mimicking the position that Jiseok had only a few moments prior.

“Okay,” Jiseok began. “You have six strings on a guitar, and each one is tuned to a different note. From the top down they’re E, A, D, G, B, and E again.” Jiseok pointed to each string as he announced its matching letter. You must’ve made a face, because Jiseok chuckled at you. “If you forget, you can just ask me again. I won’t mind.” You nodded at him, and he continued on. “Each of these little lines on the neck of the guitar,” he ran a finger over them once again, “indicate different frets. What string you press down on each fret determines what note you’ll play.”

You studied the neck of the guitar, only being a little distracted by the sight of Jiseok’s hands. You took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality.

“Okay, I think I’m good.”

Jiseok smiled at you and scooted closer. “It’s time to learn your first note! We’re gonna start with C major.” You nodded once again and turned your attention towards Jiseok’s hands. “You’re going to put your pointer finger on the first fret of the B string.” You stared at the strings, trying to remember what letter went where.

“Which one was the B string?” Jiseok laughed and reminded you which string was which, and you finally put your pointer finger where it was supposed to go.

“Next you’re going to put your middle finger on the second fret of the D string.” You stretched your fingers across the neck of the guitar and did so. “Lastly, put your ring finger on the third fret of the A string.” You once again did as you were told, and you looked at Jiseok for the next instruction. “And now…” he began to root through his pockets, eventually pulling out a guitar pick. You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped your lips as he handed it to you. “You play!”

You held the pick in your right hand as you strummed over all six strings. A soft, somewhat sour note played. You grimaced to yourself, wondering what you did wrong.

“That wasn’t bad!” Jiseok sounded oddly happy for you, despite you just playing a sour note. “You just need to press down on the strings harder. Here, let me help.” Closing any gap that might have been left between the two of you, Jiseok wrapped his arms around you, placing his own hands on top of yours. His right hand wrapped lightly around yours while his left hand mimicked your finger placements, helping to push down your fingertips into the guitar strings. “Try it again,” he spoke softly to you. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. If he wasn’t flush up against you, you’re sure a shiver would’ve run down your spine. You used your joint hands to strum the keys again, and this time an actual sound quietly emitted from the guitar.

“How was that?” You asked, turning your face towards Jiseok. He turned towards you also, your noses almost bumping.

“Perfect,” he said with a smile. You could see it in his eyes that he was proud of you for doing something that you thought was so simple. He took your closeness as an opportunity and gave you a kiss on the tip of your nose. “You’re an expert already.”

[thislovintime]

A closer look at the making of Stranger Things Have Happened:

“That’s another reason that we were friends for life, because I saw him shine when, you know, there were no Monkees, the Monkees idea wasn’t even on the horizon. And he was a wonderful performer and a wonderful musician, and I saw him like that. And I think the fact that he got that from me, that kind of respect all through that period, probably helped the bond as well. And I remember that, after The Monkees’ resurgence, I think it was about, it might have been ’90, ’91 or something, and I said, ‘Peter, why haven’t you made a record? All these guys have made solo records, and you haven’t.’ And he was so humble, he just said, ‘Well, you know, no one has asked me.’ And I said, ‘Jesus, Peter, I have a studio, I have a record label, I have distribution.’ I said, ‘Why don’t we, at some point, make you a solo record, and we’ll shop it, you know. And the worst case scenario, if literally nobody likes it but us, we can put it out on my label, which is distributed by Capitol. So we can’t lose, you know.’ And, you know, I just, I just said, ‘Let’s just do that.’ And I, I must admit that my vision of the first album, because I had seen him perform this organic acoustic music, I wanted to present him doing those, those banjo things. I wanted to make, essentially, an acoustic record, so that I could demonstrate that there was no… no phony stuff behind him, that he was the guy doing this stuff. I wanted to present that so it would shift peoples’ conception of him. Yes, he’s a Monkee, and he was famous and he was a teen idol. He was also always this musician, he played the acoustic guitar — he really played the guitar, he really played the banjo, he really played the piano. And I wanted to do that. But he said, ‘James, you know, I’m not that guy anymore. I want to do a rock ’n’ roll — I’m a rocker, I want to do a rock ’n’ roll record. And I wanna do, I like all these synths and stuff.’ So I said, ‘Okay, well, I mean, let us… let me see what I can do to help further your vision.’ One of the things I’ve always done as a producer is try to figure out what the vision of the artist was, and then serve that. And I learned that from reading about George Martin, who never discouraged The Beatles. He never said, ‘That’s a stupid idea, we can’t do that.’ He always tried to help bring to life whatever the vision was that the artist had. So that’s what I tried to do with Stranger Things Have Happened. Tried to just assist him in realizing that vision. […] [With the 7A re-release] I went back and revisited the record, and I’ll tell you the truth, I liked it a lot. I was, I was genuinely surprised by how much I liked it. I mean, it was Peter’s thing, not mine, and it sounded like a Peter record. It didn’t sound like one of my records; if you listen to my stuff, it’s much different than that. But I liked it, you know. I thought it was very inventive and very varied. […] [As a songwriter, Peter] was always trying to do something which you hadn’t heard. Which is pretty rare, because many of the hit songs that you hear are derivative, they sound like some other hit song. Peter always wanted to write something that you hadn’t heard before. […] I mean, his writing was interesting, you know, and fun to play. Always surprising.“ - James Lee Stanley, The Monkees Pad Show

[marshmallowprotection]

"I'm not sure about this. Are you sure this is what idols wear?"

You nodded. "Yes, I'm sure that I'm sure. I know this isn't like your usual outfit but that's the point! You want to get out of your bubble when you're performing on stage, Ray. I can't wait to see a different side of you tonight."

His Savior came up with the brilliant idea to put on a rock show, and Ray was the first one who 'volunteered' to do something. Even if you were quite certain that he didn't volunteer himself for that, you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. He liked to sing, it was something he admitted to you during the vulnerable hours of the night, smiling with sincerity in his words about how much he enjoyed humming along to songs that were your favorites.

Of course, even though he liked to do that, he didn't know anything about how to play a guitar or sing along to a song without losing his breath. Yet, that's what the Savior told him to do... to play along and make himself presentable for the believers. It was a tough act, but it wouldn't go wrong.

You would make sure he didn't fail.

He didn't know what he was doing... but he confessed that he was happy to put on a show if it meant you got to watch him. He wasn't the type to deny how much he really wanted your attention, and you weren't the type to let him go even a moment without knowing how much you wanted to watch him. Even if he was afraid to perform, he could find you in the crowd and pretend it was just the two of you for a confidence booster!

His cheeks were dusted with a fine layer of pink. He gave a tug at the choker you fastened around his throat and swallowed. "So, this is the kind of style you're into, prince[ss]?"

Though, you had to admit as much as you were trying to help him, there was a selfish reason for your actions. You were curious what it would look like if you could convince him to wear something edgy to contrast against his princely appearance. His ethereal hairstyle made you wonder if he could rock both of those styles without any trouble and you were happy to learn that he absolutely could. 

He was a dashing, debonair prince and daring, yet wicked alternative man!

You were already accustomed to his everyday attire, but there was something about seeing him in an outfit that was more revealing than usual that made you excited.

It was nice to see more aspects of his body that he normally wouldn't show off.

Ray was the kind of person who tried to hide every part of himself because he was insecure about what people thought of him, but he never had to be afraid of what you thought of him. You wanted to see every part of him and if he would allow it, you would continue to ask for more and more and more. 

You trailed a finger down his exposed chest with a grin. "It's one of the styles I'm interested in... say, Ray, after tonight, would you like to try more styles for me? After all, you're my prince... but you can be so much more than that, right?"

His sharp eyes met yours. Even with how shy he could be, whenever he felt like you met what you said, his confidence came through the roof. Ray caught your hand in his own and smirked. "Don't you want to see if I can fit the role of this character first, dollface?"

"...!"

Ray chuckled. "If this is what makes you excited... I want to be see it through to the end."

[originalswifty89]

To the people who feel the need to constantly comment on posts about Taylor Swift with statements like “I just don’t get the hype, she’s so overrated, I’d never pay to go see her,” THATS FINE.

(General Rule: Not everything you see on the internet is for you specifically. I’m sure you are very special, but not everything out there is directly created for you. It’s perfectly fine to scroll past a post without sharing your every thought on the matter and just letting other people enjoy what they want)

Her music and style may not be for everyone and that’s fine. No one is forcing you to even try and like her. When people make posts or articles about Taylor, they write them for the others out there like them who DO care. Who do “get it.”

Many of us who were close in age to Taylor when she first hit the scene have been here the entire time because she was able to put life (yes, teenage-type) experiences that we had all been through into beautiful lyrics that were relatable to us. It felt like she was someone we knew. Like one of our friends or even someone we saw ourselves in!! She was very open about who she was and what her life was like. She was very technically savvy and found ways to make connections with her fans from afar.

Young fans heard her, saw her, and admired her right from the start because she’s just so sweet and really tries to be a role model for her younger fans.

Older fans heard her and appreciated her art and work.

Taylor is the kind of artist that we only fell more in love with the more we learned about her- not just artistically but personally. She made everything so freaking personal for her fans: she has stayed late after events to meet every single fan, she would stop fans on the street to take pictures with them, she has sent fans Christmas gifts, she has sent fans money, she doesn’t cancel shows, she always sings live, she plays games with her fans and is playful with us over inside jokes, she leaves secret messages and clues in her work for us to find, she hand picks fans from the internet and from her shows to come meet her (she has never done paid meet and greets), she makes homemade deserts for her fans, she literally invited fans into her homes numerous times, she shows up to fans weddings and sings for them, I could truly go on forever describing how amazing she treats her fans and what a incredibly kind person she is.

But early on, she always had one thing that set her aside from all of the other pop-stars that we knew- she wrote all of her own songs and played guitar. Every single song she has put out has been written either entirely by herself or written with other writers to convey a concept that Taylor came up with. This may not seem impressive to those that compare her to the Beatles, Springsteen, Elvis, whoever- but that’s the point. She’s a pop-star being compared to the literal greats of all time!!! She was 15 when she landed her first record deal, but what most people don’t realize is she was even younger when she signed with Sony as a song writer. 14 years olds. 14 years old and she had a job writing songs for a major company. That is impressive. No matter what style of music you are interested in. She has amazing range with her music. Sometimes she just makes poppy bops for the sake of fun, sometimes it’s a poem about her deepest fear at in the forms of a song, sometimes it’s a pop sounding song with a deeper concept, she has more reach than people want to admit to.

The fact that all of her music is produced in her mind is special, whether or not you think it’s great music, it’s special. And it’s even more special that millions of people around the world relate to and enjoy it.

Early on Taylor made her mark on the music industry, but even more importantly, she engaged with her fans and treated us like close friends. She didn’t put up a wall or place herself on a pedestal like most celebrities did at the time. She understood that her success rested squarely on her fans’ shoulders, so she made very strong bonds early on and we’ve been here the whole time. She wasn’t just someone who’s songs we liked, she was someone we liked who also happened to write relatable songs.

So the next time you feel like posting “i don’t get it on a Taylor Swift post,” remember this.

[marvelous-mushroom-lady]

After Sundown

A TLOU Short Fic

HEAVY FORKING SPOILERS FOR THE LAST OF US PART 1 AND 2

I’M WARNING YA!

Alternative Title: After The Thud

TW: Mentions of: violence, suicide attempts, child death, Injury, deadly injury, acts of violence, near death experience, childhood trauma. Ghosts. Angst, so much forking angst. Grief, moving on, dealing with mortality and letting your loved ones go. Let me know if any other topics should be included here that I missed.

Word count: I honestly don’t know. I’ll be updating this post as I go and reblogging every time I do. 

Premise: Joel Miller is dead as a doornail. And now he’s going to find out what comes next. I took some inspiration from the way ghosts work in The Haunting of Hill House and Bly Manor (My fave depictions of ghosts honestly).  Just had to get this out of my system after reaching the part in the game where Ellie is bouncing baby JJ on the truck.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last thing he hears is a wet thud. He remembers Ellie whimpering, though he barely saw a blur of her bruised face not far from his. He wanted to say something reassuring, tell her it’s alright. Tell her she did her best. Tell her anything really. But his lip is busted, he’s missing teeth and his tongue is swollen. And he’s so weak, waking up only to sink back to a dark pool of unconsciousness. He was close to dead before, but never like this. His body always managed to jump start before, now it was admitting defeat. He knew this was final. And all he could do was turn his head to his little girl and attempt... Well, anything. Say her name, sigh, huff. Anything, goddammit. But nothing comes out except shallow breathing. And then a sharp swing. A wet thud as he feels his skull cracking. That happened before, too. But there was always a sharp headache right after.

The pain doesn’t come. He sees mostly flashes of white, and blurry memories and visions go in and out of focus. Him and Tommy going fishing with their old man when they were little. Learning to play the guitar. Listening to Metallica in the car on the way to work, coffee cup in hand. Sarah taking her first steps towards him, big hazel eyes open in wonder and a big toothless smile on her face. She’s older now, scampering a big rock on a hike. Tommy’s laughing at her. Ellie reading from the shitty jokes book and giving him that satisfied grin. Tess is there too, in small and big moments. Nursing him to health after he got shot. Ellie again, clambering a dinosaur at the museum. Tommy sharing a beer with him back at the bar in Austin. Playing the guitar on his porch in Jackson. Ellie saying she might learn to forgive him. He suddenly remembers he shed some tears when she left. Probably one of his top 5 moments. 

He blinks as another flash jolts him, almost as if waking from a dream. He’s standing in a field. The sky is bright orange over a sheep farm. It looks like Wyoming still. He even remembers passing this place by on horse with Ellie on one of their patrols. He sees a young woman in the distance, with a baby in her arms, reclining over an old truck. The baby is cooing and laughing at his mother, who bounces him up and down and singing him a silly song about a small potato. He takes a good look at the woman, and runs forward to make sure. It’s her. She’s older now. Her hair is shorter, her eyes are tired. Her skin is tanned and new freckles appeared on her cheeks. More worry lines too. But she seems happy. And she’s still a goofball, bouncing the black haired boy and chuckling. It’s been a while, Joel realizes. He starts feeling it too, like he was gone for a while and missed her. He moves a bit forward, planning on what he’s going to say. But Ellie doesn’t notice him. The baby, however, does. Points right at him and smiles, but Ellie looks through him and snuggles the boy. “Yea, that is a pretty sunset, isn’t it?”

He feels his throat catch. He doesn’t try to say anything. Ellie’s happy and safe, that’s all that matters. She gets to live and raise this kid who looks suspiciously like Jessie. (He tries not to think too hard about remembering her and Dina kissing at the winter dance and how that all makes sense. He’s not ruining this moment with overthinking.) Ellie will teach him how to play guitar, and how to hunt. Maybe even how to draw. She’ll tell him terrible jokes. 

“His name is J.J.”

That voice. Joel freezes, refusing to follow it. He hasn't heard that voice in over twenty years. She sounds close enough to run to.

“She’s living with Dina now.” The voice continues, matter-of-factly. He shakes his head and slowly turns around. He notices the wind blowing, but he doesn't feel the cold air. And then he’s surrounded by his little girls. She’s still fourteen. She’s wearing the same shirt and pants, and she’s barefoot. Her honey colored locks are down. Her hazel eyes are light in the sunset. She’s smiling calmly, just like she did whenever he’d go down to breakfast after her. 

“Hi, dad.” She beams. He doesn’t say anything. He can’t move. He can hear Ellie behind him telling the kid they’re gonna see how Mama is doing. He turns around to see her get up and go up to the house. He feels his eyes sting. As they turn away, J.J. keeps looking at Joel and Sarah, waving them goodbye. Ellie laughs, and Joel tries to memorize that sound. “What, you’re telling bye bye to the sun?” she giggles and pets the boy’s thick black hair. He stares until they’re inside, and then turns back to Sarah. She’s standing patiently with a knowing stare. Then he sighs and goes towards her slowly, almost scared that this is all a fragile mirage he’s going to break any minute. Sarah’s running towards him, closing the gap as he leans and catches her in his arms. She even smells like her favorite shampoo. This is all one hell of a near death experience. It’s too much, too cruel, But Joel doesn’t care. She’s laughing and holding him tight, her giggles slowly turning to whimpering into his shoulders. He’s crying too, to his shock. 

“I missed you like crazy, Scamp.”

“Missed you too.” She giggles through tears. They stand like this for seconds, minutes, or hours. The sun is already setting by the time they pull back. They sit down in the now darkened field, only illuminated by the moonlight and whatever light is shining from inside the house. 

“How long have you been here?” Joel blurts, his hand holding Sarah’s gently. 

“A while. I sometimes try to follow her into doors but I don’t always end up where I was.”

That confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. 

Sarah smiles sadly. “I followed you around, too, you know.”

Joel gulps and turns to look at her with shame and guilt, but she just keeps smiling. “I didn’t see you do all the bad things you’ve done. I saw the good you did more.”

“Not a lot of traveling then.” He chuckles. 

She leans against him as though they’re home on the couch, watching a movie. “A lot more than you think.”

He sighs. “So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m...” He trails off. He looks at his baby girl and tightens his grip on her shoulders. “We’re gone. What happens now?”

“Well, we can move on, if you want to. I saw plenty like us do. I just felt like sticking around.”

“You didn’t have to watch me, you know.”

“I think I did.” She sighs, her eyebrows furrowing. “I think I may have helped you flinch.”

Joel’s taken aback. “Flinch?”

“Yea. When you put that gun to your head.” She stretches her legs and feet, like she always would when they had serious conversations. “I saw you. Screamed at you to stop, tried to grab your hand but it went through you. So I just touched your face instead. And when I did -”

He pushed the gun away right as he pulled it. He feels almost angry with himself. How could he do this in front of her. It’s a silly thought, really. He didn't know she was there. Then again, maybe he did.