#behold my questionable music taste

[gothiclit]

@merrymorningofmay & @sofyarostova both tagged me to spell out my url with songs so. here we go!

G - guyamas sonora by beirut

O - one hundred hands by shelleyan orphan

T - thus always to tyrants by the oh hellos

H - hannah hunt by vampire weekend

I - i'm on fire by bruce springsteen

C - context by jessica law

L - lividi sui gomiti by måneskin

I - i sometimes wish i was dead by depeche mode

T - the jeweller's hands by arctic monkeys

and i'm tagging @dykejohnmilton @samodivas @famousblueraincoat1971 @frankensteincest @narratorstragedy @berkeley-mews @ohgirlieplease and whoever else wants to do it <3

[rraaaarrl]

These graphics are so uglyyyy 😭 help

[self-written-god]

T | 1625 | m/m Steddie human/wingfolk | fantasy | winged!Eddie, wing grooming

The business was slow at first, but as the word spread, more clients were coming, including those that paid a lot for full treatment, from cleaning to waxing, and sometimes even dyeing. In a year, the salon became the best known in the region, with some arguing it was the best one. Maybe it wasn’t the biggest achievement considering the services provided were still hard to come by, but it was an achievement nevertheless.

Robin saw wingfolks from many species and all walks of life, but the man that walked through the door one Thursday afternoon was a sight to behold.

He was dressed in all black, the alternative type that didn’t mind cutting a hole through a shirt to accommodate his wings. The clothing matched his feathers, dark like coal and opalescent when the sun hit them just right. Black wings were rare in general, and their owners also kept to their circles. Steve could count on the fingers of one hand the times he worked on them in the past year of running his business.

“Welcome to Robin’s grooming service, how can I help you today?”

Instead of a greeting, the man looked around, studying the salon walls and the man who greeted him.

“I’ve heard you take in all the customers?”

Steve straightened his spine. It was a question he’s heard before, in many intonations.

“Yes, we care about the wings, not who they belong to or what color they are.”

He’s heard about salons that refused to treat black wings, running on a prejudice that black wings belonged to demons or, as some called them, corrupted angels. Thus why they kept to themselves.

The man relaxed a bit, finally approaching the counter. 

“Are you free today?” he asked, fingers drumming nervously on the wood.

“Yeah, I have noone scheduled. What would you like to get done?” he smiled, hoping to come off as reassuring as possible. His client didn’t look very convinced though. He fidgeted with the feathers of his right wing, curled slightly towards himself.

“Just the basics. I don’t have much money and,” he hesitated before admitting. “I’ve never been to a groomer before, usually my uncle did it, but his arthritis got worse, and, you know…” he shrugged sheepishly, realizing he's sharing more than necessary. “Long story short my band leaves for our first tour this weekend and I wanna look good on stage.” He smiled, finally, and Steve could read the pride and excitement behind it, despite how small it was. He offered his own, wide grin back.

“Congrats on the tour, man. It sounds like a special occasion.”

“Thanks, it kinda is, isn't it?” The man scratched his cheek, the sheepish grin back.

"My name's Steve, I'll be working on you. What's yours?"

"Eddie."

The man notes the appointment down in his calendar, then closes it.

“Well, let’s get you stage ready then. Would you like some tea? I have a great yasmine blend. Do you prefer to lie down or sit?”

“Sit, I think. Tea would be great.”

“Gotcha. Get comfortable, you can change the music, adjust the chair however you like. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The man sauntered to one of two stations in the salon, the one with the chair, tracing the leather before he turned to the radio and a stack of cassettes beside it. The wide selection of genres proved that the owner cared about his clients’ comfort more than imposing his taste on music on everyone. He shuffled through them, finally settling on an Aerosmith tape to pop it in. He settled on the chair, watching the man lineup needed supplies. A steaming mug of fragrant tea was settled down next to him.

“Thank you,” he said, following him with his gaze and then listening intently as he ran him through the process and the tools he’ll be using. First, came the brushing, to get rid of anything his feathers don’t need. It took him a moment to loosen up to the fact that a stranger was touching his wings, but when they finished the first one, he was relaxed enough to engage in some small talk.

“What’s the name of your band?”

“Corroded Coffin. We play metal, mostly covers, a few originals.”

The man hummed.

“Sounds fitting. Are all your bandmates winged folks?”

Sometimes this line of questioning would rub him the wrong way, but the groomer’s intentions seemed genuine. Besides, he got raving reviews from people Eddie trusted.

“Our drummer is fully human, but other than that, yes. Only mine are black, though.”

“They are beautiful,” the man said, and he blushed under the compliment, glad to be turned away from him. “Pity I don’t get to work on black wings often.”

“Well, if you do a good job today, who knows,” he offered. “Maybe I’ll need some grooming when I come back from the tour. Someone’s gotta brush away the leftover coke.”

Steve snorted.

“Oh, it’s this kind of tour? Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll? I’m fine with coke, but cleaning up sperm will cost you extra.”

Eddie choked on his spit, head snapping back to see the man’s cocky smirk. He could feel his cheeks heat up, imagining scenarios in which cum could get up there.

“Thanks, I think I'll manage,” he choked out, turning back away.

“I mean, it takes two, at least, and a good partner should help with it.”

“I guess so,” he mused, red faced against his arms, and the topic simmered out. 

“Were you in a forest recently?” the groomer asked instead.

“Uh, yeah, why? Oh no, is there a tick?!”

“No, no, don’t worry,” the man chuckled. “Just some pine needles. And twigs. Found a small pinecone too,” he said, showing him the findings in his palm.

If he gets any redder he might faint.

“Uh, that’s not cool, I’m usually more careful, I swear I’m not a slob-”

Steve stopped him, patting the bare skin between his wings soothingly.

“My friend has wings too, I know how easy it is to get stuff stuck in them after just a short walk through the woods. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about."

Eddie grumbled into his arms, melting further into them as if he wanted to disappear. The rest of the brushing was uneventful, with Steve mostly talking about his winged friend. Her name was Robin, the namesake of the salon, and she was a co-owner of the place. It seemed like they were close, but not once did Eddie get the idea the feelings between them were romantic. 

“Now I'm gonna clean them for any remaining dirt, then just conditioning and we’ll be done.”

Eddie nodded, watching him swap the supplies for the next task. 

Five minutes in proved him wrong for thinking brushing was his favorite part of grooming. Steve was way more attentive than his uncle, gently rubbing the suds into feathers. Under his touch, and with a faint smell of jasmine, he started dozing off. After the third time he jolted himself awake, Steve gently said:

“It’s okay, you can nap. You wouldn’t be the first one. I’ll wake you up to pick the oil when I’m done.”

Eddie nods once, and settles his head on his arms, letting himself drift off.

He’s woken up by a warm hand soothing the knobs of his spine. He purrs at the touch, still in a sleepy daze, before catching himself. The man chuckles, but doesn’t comment. He offers him a slim brown bottle.

“I have others to choose from, but I think this one would work for you.”

Eddie screws it open and takes a sniff. 

“It smells…” he searches his brain for the right word. “Foresty.”

“Yeah, Do you like it?” The man is grinning again, so Eddie rolls his eyes before admitting that yes, he does. Steve takes the bottle back. “You can go back to sleep, or I can make you some more tea or coffee if you’d rather wake up before leaving.”

As appealing as another nap sounded, Eddie didn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of the man.

“Coffee sounds great.”

“Gotcha. Be right back.”

He returned bearing coffee and immediately went to work. He rubbed the oil on his palms before applying it to the feathers with the same motion he’d been cleaning them with, slow and attentive.

Maybe not going to sleep was a bad choice, but Eddie determinedly sipped on his coffee, just letting himself enjoy the treatment. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” the man spoke up, surprising Eddie. He made a hum of encouragement. “For a favor, actually. I’d give you a full treatment for free as payment, of course.”

Eddie turned back to look at him, now curious. The man was focused on his wings.

“Just spill it, man.”

He breathed out, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“I’d like to add your wings to my portfolio,” he motioned vaguely to the walls of the salon, decorated with photos of wingfolk. The main focus were their wings, some of their faces weren’t even shown, though some had make up and hair done - a secondary specialization for the salon. “Most of those are of my friends, but none of them have black wings. I’d love to have yours displayed.”

Eddie frowned. 

“You want my wings on your wall?”

“Greatly.”

“Wouldn’t that scare off customers?” he reminded. 

The man only huffed.

“Good, I don’t need people like that around me.”

Eddie was stunned into silence. He turned back to settle against the chair, considering the photos on the walls.

“Okay. I’ll contact you after the tour?”

“I’d love that. Thank you,” the man said with a smile in his voice and went back to work.

[reidscanehand]

Politics of Lonely

Inspired by this song by Isabel Pless Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUfem!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort/Fluff TW: discussions of loneliness, cursing, self-doubt This is, honestly, a pretty self-serving write on my part, but I really need something like this and, since that likely won’t happen, I wrote it. I also really love Isabel Pless’ music, so any chance I have to introduce people to her stuff is a win in my book. Hope you like this and love you! xx 

~ If success is subjective, then what's the objective of a lonely life fully lived well? - Isabel Pless ~

Spencer Reid is not a stalker. Truly. And he never had any intention of finding out Y/N’s Saturday schedule. In fact, knowing anything about it at all makes him feel incredibly weird. However, the mind works in mysterious ways and a genius mind even moreso. Meaning, that, once he accidentally happened upon a part of this regularly occurring and particularly well-kept to schedule, he just so happened to be able to slowly (not nearly slowly enough for his comfort) piece together her schedule for the rest of her day off. 

Seeing her at his favorite bookstore had been a completely unexpected (though entirely pleasant) surprise. His favorite booksotre isn’t exactly a secret, and he knows he mentioned it to her when she’d asked him about a certain edition of Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but he somehow had never anticipated actually seeing her there one Saturday morning. 

But, sure enough, he turns the corner and there she is. He immediately turns back behind the shelf, out of her view, pressing his back into the endcap, his breathing suddenly far more labored than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a secret either that Y/N is a beautiful woman. And to see her, standing in a pool of light, almost comically, perfectly provided by one of the gorgeous skylights in the store, was a quite a sight to behold. The crush that’s been burdgeoning since her arrival to the BAU fills his chest fully, as though his heart is accepting what his mind already knew: he more than likes Y/N. 

“Spencer?” her voice breaks his reverie. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes,” he manages to say, “why would I not be?”

“You’re leaning against the bookshelf pale as a ghost and breathing like you’ve just run a mile,” she states, her smile perking up the ends of the sentence with disconcerting charm. “I’m just making sure you’re not running from someone or something.”

“I, um, read something that scared me,” Spencer says, lying desperately (badly). 

“Oh?” Y/N asks, her eyebrow arching upward and her slight smile deepening. “What were you reading?”

“Um,” Spencer drops his eyes, thrilled to see an abandoned book right near his foot. He leans down and picks it up, not even glancing at the cover. “This one.”

Y/N glances at the book, then looks up at Spencer, her face alight with barely contained laughter, “A Guide to Pigeons of North America?”

Spencer looks down at the book in question, he’s horrified to see a (rather terrifying) picture of a pigeon on the cover. Fucking hell. 

“Um...yeah,” Spencer almost sighs at his own stupidity, “I, uh, I’m scared of pigeons.”

Putting himself in such an awkward position distracted him from how overwhelmed he felt as Y/N spoke to him. Simply enough, they’d chatted for a few minutes about books, which only reconfirmed the two things he already knew to be true: 1. Y/N has excellent taste in many things, especially literature. 2. It wouldn’t take too much for him to fall in love with her. 

As they walked out the door, she’d eyed him carefully.

“What is it?” he asks softly, barely resisting the urge to reach over and push her hair back over her ear. 

“Would you, um,” she chews her lip, like it’s her turn to be nervous. “Would you like to, um, get a coffee with me?”

Spencer stares at her for a moment too long, a tad caught up in the blissful spring weather and how pretty she looks in her little dress and how the sun is shining just so and-and she’s floundering. 

“You don’t have to, obviously, I just usually go to get another coffee after stopping here and...and I just figured you might-”

“I’d love to,” Spencer cuts her off, his own voice sounding far away in his ears. 

She stares at him for a moment, a smile overtaking her features, “Wonderful.” 

And it had been wonderful. Truly wonderful. Maybe the best Saturday Spencer had had....ever? They walked to the coffee shop, where Spencer easily deduced she was a regular, just as she seemed to be at the bookstore. She’d then walked him to the Farmer’s Market, picking out produce for her week and gathering bits and bobs for her dinner that evening. 

As they parted ways when he walked her back to her apartment, she stared up at him suddenly, eyes still shining with remnants of smiles from the afternoon. 

“Thank you for...for spending time with me today,” she almost whispers, her voice is so quiet. 

“Thank you,” Spencer corrects her slightly, “for letting me tag along.”

“It’s...um, it’s just that I usually...” she trails off, her face quirking up awkwardly, “I usually do this alone. And I don’t mind being lonely, I guess, but it was...nice, more than nice, really, to have someone to do it with for once. I know my...preferences can be kind of boring, so I really appreciate you...wasting an afternoon with me.”

Without a second thought, Spencer lurches forward, tucking her into a tight hug that she settles into almost instantly. 

“I had so much fun,” he assures her, before releasing her from the hug, arms still around her, staring down at her intensely. “And it certainly wasn’t a wasted afternoon.” She beams at him and hugs him again. They say their goodbyes and he walks out, dusk just settling in, a smile still on his face.

~~~

He’s hoping to have another opportunity to ostensibly...run into Y/N, to sort of maybe...extend the afternoon into an evening, somehow gathering the courage to ask her on a date.

But, cases get in the way. Case after case hits the team like a neverending treadmill, keeping them going for almost a month non-stop. They return from a rather harrowing case in Kentucky and, the team assumes, anyway, Hotch draws some sort of line with Strauss. 

“We’ll work tomorrow, starting at 10,” Hotch announces as the team takes their seats on the jet, “just for paperwork purposes. But then the weekend and Monday, you’ll have off.” 

Everyone practically cheers with joy, chats already brewing about plans for the long weekend. JJ texts Will, excited to spend the weekend with her boys. Emily texts some old friends, planning to meet up with them along with Derek and Penelope. Rossi laughs when they ask him to join, then sighs deeply and admits that he’ll need the Saturday off, then he’ll need to work on his newest draft on Sunday and Monday in order to keep his editor off his back. Hotch taps out, too, excited to finally spend a weekend with Jack. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Derek asks. “Wanna meet us at the bar tomorrow night? I hear Emily’s friend is single.” 

She giggles demurely and then rolls her eyes, “Actually, I think I’m going to see if my sister wants to drive down from Maryland to see me. We’ve been meaning to catch up for a while now.”

Spencer’s happy Y/N has plans to finally see her sister, who she’s mentioned missing quite a bit recently, but he’d sort of been hoping to see her on Saturday, if just by chance. 

“What about you, Pretty Boy?” Derek asks, turning the attention to Spencer. He feels his face turn beet red.

“Um...I, uh...” he flounders for a moment then clears his throat, “I’ve got some books to read.”

The rest of the team seems happy with that answer, but Spencer can feel Y/N’s eyes on him, a gaze he avoids as the plane takes off back home.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight, Spence?” Emily asks over the phone. It’s around 10am on Saturday morning and Spencer’s pouring a second cup of coffee - a necessity as this is the second call he’s received about this evening’s festivities.

“Why are you guys so annoyed with the idea that bars really aren’t my thing? Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one not coming. JJ’s with Will and Henry, Hotch is with Jack, Rossi’s still working, for God’s sake, Y/N’s with her sister-”

“Y/N’s sister cancelled on her,” Emily corrects him offhandedly. “I was sort of hoping to convince her to come, too, but-”

“When did that happen?” Spencer demands abruptly. There’s a pause as Emily’s clearly taken aback by his reaction.

“Yesterday afternoon after you left,” Emily explains. “She’s pretty down about it, actually, which is why-”

“I have to go, Emily,” Spencer interrupts her. “Thanks for the invite, but I’ll be busy.”

“Busy?” Emily asks incredulously, even as Spencer hangs up. “Busy with what?”

~~~

Spencer’s not exactly sure what his plan is here, in fact, he most decidedly doesn’t really have one. But he knows...he knows he should do something. On his way to Y/N’s apartment, he passes the Farmer’s Market, his height and the open air facility making it possible for him to look around, not seeing her there and moving on. He passes the coffee shop, walking in and almost blindly ordering his favorite, tacking hers onto his order without thinking twice. He looks around, hoping she’ll just happen to be there, but determinedly continuing towards her apartment complex when he still doesn’t see her. It’s a last ditch effort at the bookstore, but Ron, the owner - seemingly fully aware of the situation - tells Spencer without any prompting that Y/N hasn’t been in today. 

So now he’s standing in front of her door, the slightly lukewarm coffees in his hands making him feel even more awkward. He knocks quietly, considering doing it again when the door suddenly opens. He almost can’t breathe when he sees her. The usual glow around her is dimmed slightly, her adorable matching pajamas still on despite noon swiftly approaching. She looks tired and sad somehow and it tugs at his heartstrings. 

“Spencer?” Y/N asks, looking up at him in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um,” he chastises himself inwardly for being so unprepared. “I know how much you were looking forward to seeing your sister and I’m sorry she cancelled on you. And I know it might be...be stupid, but I thought that maybe...maybe you’d want to spend another Saturday with me? And then maybe...maybe we could just spend more time together generally? Because I...the most fun I’ve had in ages was the Saturday I spent with you and I...” he trails off, staring at her, cursing himself for his own discomfort. 

“Spencer, I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to hang out with me just because I’m...lonely,” Y/N says sadly. “I don’t want to drag you along just because-” 

But he cuts her off then, the determination of earlier in the day settling over him again as he places the coffees on the ground next to her door, stepping forward and reaching for her hands, which she - thankfully - allows him to take easily. 

“I know,” he whispers, “I know what it is to be lonely. And I wanted you to know that...if you want, you don’t have to be...lonely, that is. Because I’d...I’d like to...love to, really, be with you. Spending time with you isn’t anything but a joy. You wouldn’t be dragging me, if anything I’ll damn near skip along beside you.”

Her eyes have widened, mouth parting slightly, but that makes her laugh and smile as she meets his eyes again. 

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, smiling down at her. “Not just today, but...for however long you’ll have me, actually.” And with that he presses a kiss to knuckles of her hands, bringing them to his chest. 

Y/N smiles up at him and he can tell it’s the first time she’s smiled in a minute. She meets his eyes again, the twinkle from that Saturday over a month ago returning as she glances towards his lips. 

“Would you like to go to the bookstore with me?” Y/N asks sweetly, her eyes flicking back to his mischievously.

“Yes,” he whispers, stepping closer, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. 

Her smile deepens, “And then maybe the coffee shop? I think the ones you brought might be cold.”

“Yes,” he chuckles softly, tugging her impossibly closer and dropping a kiss to her shoulder. Y/N shudders slightly, but smiles into his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“And then the Farmer’s Market?” she suggests shyly. “I could make us d-dinner, if you’d like to stay.”

“I’d love to,” he replies almost huskily, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“We could eat outside,” she whispers teasingly, starting to laugh.

“We could,” he answers, pulling away slightly to look down at her properly, “if a picnic’s not too funny for you.”

“It’s not that,” she shakes her head. “It’s just that we’ll have to be careful.”

“Careful?” Spencer asks, pushing the errant lock of hair behind her ear, like the universe giving him a second chance to do so. 

“Yeah,” she nods, clearly trying not to burst into laughter, “you know, to avoid the pigeons.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and tugs her back into his chest, finally pressing a kiss to her lips. 

~ “I think you’re the one.” - Isabel Pless ~

Taglist:  @shadyladyperfection @cielo1984 @rainsong01 @pessimystic-fangirl @saspencereid @takeyourleap-of-faith @andreasworlsboring101 @avidreider  @aizawaxkun @babyspencersslut @no-honey-no  @andrewhoezierbyrne @subhuman-queer @ncsls0515  @uhuhuh @whatamidoinghp @spongeshxt  @itsametaphorbriansblog @vgirl-10123  @stand-tall-pineapple  @padsfirewhisky @ceeellewrites @dahliasbouqet @drayshadow @cal-ifornication-blog @theetherealbloom  @eevee0722 @questionmymentality @wintermuteway @ellesmythe @mac99martin @ssa-githae @cherrystay​ @calm-and-doctor​ @icedcoffee187​ @devilswaldorf​ @annemijnisdancing​ @half-blood-dork​ @blameitonthenight21​ @happyreid187​ @goldeng1rl8​ @meangirlsx​ @honestlystop​ @lastpasttheposts​ @avengers-ass-emble17​ @bauhousewife​ @averyhotchner​ @underscorecourt​  @fan-girl-97​ @coolbeans3​ @boxofsparklingmuses​ @allaboutsml​  @ssareidbby​ @percabethfangirl​ @buckyluvbot​ @v-is-obsessive​ @tanyaherondale​ @usuck​ @mitchiri-nek0​  @kaitlynpcallmebeepme​ @miraclesoflove​ @meganskane​ @babymetaldoll​ @ivebeenthinkingboutu​ @rockin2thebeats​ @infinite-tides​ @onlyhereforthefanfics​  @g-l-pierce​ @thisiscalm-andits-doctor​ @art-and-thoughts​ @exhaleli​ @allthecolorsneverseen​ @measure-in-pain​ @acidicbloody​ @hotchnerxo​ @her-storybooks​  @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91​ @bilesxbilinskixlahey​ @wilbur-rabbit​ @twilightlover2007​ @ssamorganhotchner​ @h0tch-r0cket​ @wheelsupkels​ @jhiddles03​ @lovesammikinzz​@scargarcia-magshotchner​ @chaoticconnoisseurgiver​ @baueoud​ @mischiefmanaged71​ @gspenc​ @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @kajjaka​ @chickensrule​  @marvel-mars @wanniiieeee​ @gublur​  @rousethemouse​ @unionjackpillow​  @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid​ @meowiemari​

Link to My Main Masterlist

Link to My Spencer Reid Masterlist

[inhumanliquid]

Yk what? Actual pinned. Fine. Fuck it.

My timezone. Btw. (link)

I'm always too tired to commit to anything.

I'm Blair (or Belphie or a million other things). My pronouns are anything but she/her.*

If you "Ms." or "Mrs." me I will fucking maim you with my claws. If you "man" "woman" or "girl" me, I'll explode you, but "boy" is great.*

*Both "girl" and she/her pronouns are fine when funny or from friends.

I support all sorts of weirdos and freaks simply because the cishet, nt white guys want everyone that isn't "normal" to die.

I'm a very bitchy alterhuman. Feel free to ask questions about that, such as these ones (link).

Aroace fictorose homoflexible gaybian. Omniaspec.

Behold my ever-expanding list of "fake" identities. (link)

I'll make get fucked banners (link) upon request, if I feel like it.

Yes, my icon is actually me.

I'm a tranny, a faggot, a cripple, and more. Don't like that? Fuck off.

I got assigned two platonic partners on January 31st 2024. To see that mess, check out #platonicule posting

I'm obsessed with ✨️creepypastas✨️, Obey Me, Honkai Star Rail, and Sanders Sides. Prepare yourself for fandom spam reblogs from time to time.

Infodump to me or I'm stealing your knees.

Hate anons are funny to me.

My stance on every online discourse ever (link)

Playlist I made based on a guy who stole my entire identity (/hj) (link)

Shit I like to stare at (link)

Post I made out of spite for the Obey Me devs (link)

Post I made with footnotes and linked references out of sheer autism (link)

Spotify Bullying Me for my music taste (link)

Icons I'm using on Tumblr and Discord (link)

[kodzukii]

🗯 THE WIND KNOWS ME (BUT I WANNA KNOW YOU BETTER) ft. kise ryouta.

SUMMARY !   in which kise ryouta hears the wind — but not when it comes to you.

PAIRING !   kise ryouta x gn!reader

GENRES ! fluff, romance

WARNINGS !  none!

TAGLIST ! @n0vad (send an ask to be added <33)

WORD COUNT !   670+

NOTE !  i’m a little amazed i actually wrote smth ngl 🤧🤧 anyways hi knb fandom this is my debut <33 ik y’all are dead rn but hopefully this gets a few people to rise from their graves a lil bit 💗 also if the tense is a bit weird ik sorry abt that i rarely write in present tense <//3

kise ryouta hears the wind.

the ceaseless chatter and shuffling of his classmates continues around him. “hey, wanna be my partner?” floats around the room, receiving varied yes or no responses. kise sincerely hopes he may be able to dodge the question just a little bit longer. his gaze stays trained onto the half opened glass barrier next to his seat, giving him a view of the vast, azure sky outside. he sighs discontentedly, mechanical pencil spinning between his fingers. his weary pout deepens the more his fist indents his cheek. 

through his peripheral vision, kise sees a figure walk toward him. he inwardly groans, realising that the dreaded question is now floating towards him. what a shame. he may have jinxed himself this time. with the softest of sighs, he turns toward the figure and – oh crap, not her again. he plasters a smile onto his lips before his displeasure can show. 

“oh, kise-kun! i couldn’t help but notice you don’t have a partner yet! you look so all alone.”

her voice is so grating that kise can almost taste how disgustingly saccharine it was. her bright, glossy lips form into a pout as she says this, and kise muses that the overly cakey makeup on her skin does nothing to hide the rotten personality (and zits) underneath.

“ah… i spaced out while everyone was picking their partners. so it seems i’m the odd one out,” he says with a laugh, voice like honey.

“well, well. i seem to be all alone as well.” 

kise nearly gags at the seductive tone her voice had now taken. her lips seem more red now than ever as she leans in a bit, allowing kise to catch a whiff of her vanilla (artificial– and cheap, he notes) perfume. 

“oh, is that so?”

the wind becomes louder.

“soooo, we’re perfect – i mean, it’s perfect! silly me.”

he wishes the wind would drown out her laughs – it was like a broken violin grating against his eardrums.

“i suppose. but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all.”

and this beholder sees nothing beautiful in front of him.

“you’re right! always so insightful, kise-kun!”

kise thinks his laughs are starting to become out of tune, too.

“heh, of cour--”

“kise-kun? you dropped this in p.e.”

the wind suddenly begins to quieten.

“hey, we were–!”

“(l/n)cchi! i was wondering where that went. thank you so much for returning it.”

to him, the way you glowed was akin to that of an angel. this beholder was proven wrong today. and though he’s never believed in abstract concepts such as fate, today he finds himself thanking the lucky stars midorima seems to oh-so-adore.

“it’s alright. be more attentive of your things next time, okay?”

wow, he really wishes he could hear you lecture him more often. however, before he could do more than nod and say “okay”, you have already left, only a whisper of (and very much natural) scent left in your wake.

he watches you take your seat, scribbling notes in your workbook, likely something to do with the assignment. he thinks he hears the girl’s noisy calls for his name next to him, but his intent gaze stays trained onto your figure. the thoughtful hum that slips from your lips is music to his ears, and he can’t help but find your focused expression rather attractive. and… you’re alone? 

the wind is silent.

the chair scrapes from beneath him as he rises to his full height. with the girl forgotten behind him, he walks toward your desk in confident strides. he sees you look up when you sense his presence, and he sends you a smile as he closes the distance between you two. you smile back! wow, your smile is gorgeous. gemini must be on top of oha asa’s list today (maybe midorima is onto something with his belief in fate, kise thinks).

“hi again, kise-kun. do you need something?”

“yes, actually.”

kise ryouta hears the wind.

but never when it comes to you.

[weird-al-song-tourney]

Are there any songs that you think its a missed opportunity for Al to have not parodied yet?

Well honeslty I'd love for all the artists that rejected him to have yknow...not been a bunch of sticks in the mud. >:[

But honeslty I'm surprised songs like "Call Me Maybe" , "Despacito", "Gangam Style" or other songs that yknow got...crazy ass popular didn't get weird Al'd. Not that I super WANT that but I think he'd do great with em.

One song I think he could do is like, how have we not heard him parody Take On Me? Or something like Livin' On A Prayer (Squidward On A Chair fills the void tho)

This is a personal one bc the song happens to be very important to me but I'd love to see Weird Al do a parody of All Star by Smash Mouth. It's iconic meme status these days combined with Weird Al's style would be amazing. Heck even other Smash Mouth songs too like Walkin' On The Sun.

Or maybe parody something like Don't Fear The Reaper, but that's one I mention because my dad & I bonded over that song a lot.

Oh man & y'know what? I'd LOVE if Weird Al did a style parody of Ben Folds! That'd be a sight to behold.... (shoutouts to over the hedge btw)

I also would LOVE to see him do an AC/DC Parody one day. As a fan of both I wish he'd have done a parody of like Highway to Hell or Thunderstruck. I mean come on he'd nail it. 💅

If anyone else has any ideas of what you think he should parody please reply or put your ideas in the tags. I'd love to hear it!!!!! Because my musical taste cannot do this question enough justice singlehandedly.

[doki-doki-lesbians-club]

That's SUPER cool that you were into MCR and GIR back in the day--and that they both helped you out on your journey to becoming who you are now! :) I admittedly never saw the light on the former until alternative radio where I was played "Black Parade" in its entirety for the first time--a religious experience I rarely feel in modern rock. XD You have good taste!

For my part, it was Michael Jackson who was a central figure in stirring confusing feelings in me (I listened to "Thriller" and "Off The Wall" a fair bit in my teenage years, right before his death and while he was still a cause for snarky playground humor). Ditto other retro '70s/'80s artists like Led Zeppelin; Earth, Wind, And Fire; Queen; and Prince. (My dad's a classical music teacher with decidedly old-school music tastes.) Things have changed a LOT about me since I was 12, to put it lightly. XD Polyam and Enby/Bigender Pride for life, though!

(Also, can I just say I LOVE when you thank people for the asks you get? I don't see other people on this platform or elsewhere do it NEARLY enough, and I really appreciate feeling and being heard like that--that my questions give you joy and smiles. Keep up the good work and keep being awesome! <3)

Aww you're so sweet (;w;) I absolutely will keep it up!!!

I didn't mention Queen as I hadn't discovered them until after I realized I was trans, but as soon as I heard them I thought "wow, they're queer, aren't they?" and lo and behold! XD

And hell yeah, pride for life! I very briefly thought about Non-binary when I was identifying as genderfluid (my stepping stone to escape masculinity and discover my long-lost femininity) so I know that identities and labels can be a journey to find and then a whole other journey to finally feel true. So happy you found yours :3 you're always welcome here!

And as always, thank you for the ask~!

[gretavanheatabove]

smokin’ sammy

just dumping a fic i never posted here! i wrote it sometime this past winter so it does not scream a summery vibe, but def a cozy vibe, hope u like it!

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!!!

pairing: sam x fem reader 

word count: ~4,000

summary: a one-shot in which fem reader and sam get high and get busy ;)

Sammy shuts the passenger door behind him and grins over at you, lifting your purse from the floor and holding it in his lap. “Can we crank the heat, please? My buns are freezing!” You smile back, nod, and adjust the knobs on the dashboard. Sammy reaches over your head to the sleeve of CD’s on the visor and pulls one out, inspecting it thoroughly. Maybe it’s just the heat kicking in, but your face feels flushed, and you hope your music taste is up to his standards. He sees you eyeing him and suddenly becomes mock-serious. 

“Hmm….” He mumbles, turning the disc over in his hands but careful not to touch the reflective surface. “I suppose this will do.” He shoots a wink at you and puts the disc in the drive. A mellow romantic song begins playing, one that always reminds you of summer. Right now, it’s just above freezing and there’s snow sticking to the ground. This time of year, the sun sets so early that 6 pm feels like midnight. You pull out of the lot and begin the drive back home. 

After a minute or so of contemplative listening to set the mood, you bring up your plans for the evening. “So, Sam, I picked up something for us to share tonight. I just missed you so much today, I figured we can waste a little time together? It’s in my bag there.” While cigarettes aren’t exactly your thing, you and Sam share plenty of other smokable substances. And, god, he looks so good smoking. It must be a combination of drawing attention to his lips, exhaling thick clouds, and the way his eyebrows gather in focus. Truly something to behold. 

Right now, though, his eyebrows are raised and his mouth is open with that sweet smile, revealing his top row of teeth. “You did? I love you!” His hand found the back of your scalp and he began massaging it as you drove. Sam seems to really like receiving gifts, not because he likes “stuff”, but because he likes to know you were thinking of him and thought he would like something. You often bring him pretty rocks, a fun shirt, or some kind of small-batch beer he hasn’t tried before. He just lights up. But his favorite kinds of gifts, of course, are ones he can share with you. 

“Wanna smoke when we get home?” You question, already knowing the answer to follow.

“Yes, please!” 

You pull in the driveway shortly after, and the music stops when you remove your keys from the ignition. “Wait, it was in the middle of that song! Can we finish the song at least?” Sam must have been more interested in the CD he picked than you thought. His hand leaves your hair and lands on your knee, keeping you in the car with him. He gives you the biggest and softest puppy eyes he can muster and says, “I’m feeling soft and romantic. Let’s listen to it.” Your heart melts on the spot, and the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. It never gets old, the sweet things he says and does to you. 

You turn the car key two clicks, letting the battery power the radio. The car is still toasty, just the way Sammy likes it. “Baby, why don’t we smoke your surprise out here and keep listening? Then we can go in and put our comfy clothes on, have some hot cocoa?” He nodded enthusiastically at your suggestion. “Perfect.” He passes you your purse, never one to dig through without explicit permission and direction. You thank him and reveal a fragrant joint, expertly rolled. Putting it to your lips, you begin digging in your bag for a lighter, getting increasingly frustrated that one would not appear. 

Sam opens the sunglasses compartment above and pulls out a blue Bic lighter, and another two joints fall out with it. You both laugh, though his is closer to a giggle, and he puts them back, turning to you and lighting the twirled tip of the paper for you. He looks at your eyes as you stare down, waiting to get to the green as the paper burns. When you realize he’s studying your face, you lock eyes for a couple seconds, sharing a soft gaze. You finally reach the green and pass the joint to him, and he gracefully accepts it between his long, calloused fingers. 

He faces forward again, still taking in the music as he inhales deeply. Now it’s you who’s studying his profile. You love the way his nose swoops, the way his eyes squint and lips pucker. He exhales a faint cloud and the scent fully engulfs your noses. A cough that erupts from his chest, another big smile illuminating his lips and eyes. “Jeez louise!” He bursts into laughter and passes the j back to you, a few more coughs slipping out. His laughter is contagious and it takes a second to compose yourself before hitting it again. 

The smoke makes its way down your lungs, the sweet flavor mixing with the smokiness of the burning paper. Your mind drifts to focus on the music playing, the soundtrack to your session. It’s soft, sweet, and heartfelt. Looking over at Sammy, you see he’s leaning back in his seat, reclined comfortably. You meet eyes again and smile under his gaze. Everything is feeling alright. You’re both relaxed, content, and very much in love with each other. And, after a few minutes, baked like a cake. You go silent, spacing out and enjoying the moment. Whenever you check back in, Sam’s giggling to himself about something. He makes himself laugh more than anyone else, but you’re a close second. Sweet boy.

The smoke stops, but you non-verbally agree to sit and finish the last two songs. After sharing a few sips of water, you lean in to Sam and he closes the gap with his lips. They were soft and warm, pushing up into yours. His mouth tastes like smoke, but at least it’s a much sweeter smoke than usual. He sets his right hand on your upper thigh and his left hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in even closer. You give in and move as close as you can, center console preventing things from getting too heavy. You stick to slow kisses, just enjoying the sensation of touch. You lace your fingers in his hair, too, trying to lessen the height gap between you two. Chills dance across your skin. 

As the final song ends, a comfortable silence rings out in its place. The next time you separate for air, you take a longer pause, forehead to forehead and eyes fluttering closed. You can feel Sammy’s breath shift as he starts to smile again, and the silence is ended. “Let’s go inside. I wanna get cozy with you.” Until he spoke, and your eyes opened, you didn’t notice that the air became frosty and your fingertips were chilly. You nod and gather your bag and keys, and the two of you quickly slip in through the front door.

Once safe inside, you both drop your coats and shoes. Sam sneaks his arm around your waist and nearly drags you to the bedroom. You turn on a bedside lamp and hear Sam call out, “Jammy time!” He digs through his bottom drawer, pulling out a pajama set with a paisley pattern and a button-up top. He yanks his socks off like they’d been hurting him all day and changes into his set. You grab fluffy socks, one of Sam’s t-shirts, and a very oversized hoodie. He’s already plopped on the bed when you finish, lying flat on his chest like a starfish. You climb to sit over his waist, pushing your fingers across his scalp. He groans, loving the sensation. “Baby, please do my neck after. So sore.” He mumbles. 

You smile at his request and make your way down to his neck. He releases a deep sigh through his nose, melting at your touch. You love helping him relax after a long day of practicing. You wish you could be at every rehearsal, but you end up being the opposite of helpful most nights. Seeing you makes Sam want to finish up and come home, so you try to stay out of their way. Occasionally, though, you come by with dinner or beers to cheer the boys up. 

“Want me do your back, buttercup?” You ask, putting pressure between his shoulder blades. Sam nods and props himself on his arms, awkwardly trying to undo the buttons of his top. You help him and shimmy the sleeves down his arms, leaving his back exposed before he plops back down. His smooth skin is decorated with little freckles and moles like the stars. You lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder before continuing to massage him. Though his eyes have closed and his face is smooshed into the mattress, evidence of a smile peeks through the corners of his eyes and his brows are slightly raised.

After a couple minutes, you leave a few more slow, soft kisses across his skin, something you like to do as a way to display your affection. You sigh and lay your face on his warm skin, leaving five quick kisses in the same spot over his spine. He giggles and mumbles into the blanket, “Hey, that tickles, ya rascal!” He reaches up and playfully swats at your arm, then he gently runs his fingers up and down it. 

“Sorry, Charlie.” You climb off and roll next to him and he opens up to face you. He sighs and smiles, reaching over to boop your nose, and you realize how red his eyes are. You nose-laugh and move in to kiss him. First it’s soft and tender, but becomes more passionate. His hands find the back of your neck and pull you in, and you press your hands to his bare chest. You kiss long and hard, breathing heavily. You wrap a leg around his waist and your bodies are flush, but you wish you could be closer still. His hand slides down your back and finds the bottom of your oversized hoodie, reaching under to cup your ass and pull you in against him. 

He speaks breathlessly through messy kisses, “Baby, let me taste you. Taste so sweet, I miss you.” You nod and finally pull away, sitting up to slide your panties down your legs. Once they’ve met the rest of the laundry in the pile, Sam pushes you onto your back and sits on his knees, then using a hand he separates yours. He licks his bottom lip and pulls it into his mouth, staring for a brief moment before his eyes flick back up to yours. He places his hands on your waist. His thumbs rest over your hip bones, tracing small circles with light pressure. He leans down and you feel him softly exhale before his lips meet the wet heat between your legs. Your eyes shut and you’re reminded how high you still are. Sam licks with perfect pressure that makes you see stars. 

He finds the perfect spot that makes you moan a drawn out “Uuuhhhhh,” and you latch onto his hair with a fist. “Baby, baby, baby,” you mumble under your breath. He pays close attention to your swollen clit, pushing little circles against it. You let out a quiet “Fucking fuck,” as your shoulders lurch forward and feel him smile against your pussy. His grip on you tightens and his thumb presses into your hip, holding you down to the bed. You peek down at him and his eyes are still smiling as he works on you, crude wet noises fill the silence created by the snow falling outside. Sam would do nearly anything to draw moans and swears from you. You grow impatient wanting to touch him and call out, “My turn to give, Sammy.” He doesn’t give up, though, he just looks up at you with his eyebrows nearly touching. He gives a “mm-mm” before pulling away, the cold air clinging to your wetness in place of his mouth. You let out a quiet whimper at the loss of contact and sit up. 

Sammy gets up and finishes undressing, revealing his hard cock. The tip glistens with pre-cum, a mouth-watering invitation to your tongue. You scoot towards him and reach out a hand, but he steps to the side and climbs next to you on the bed. His lips hang open in concentration as he directs your limbs around him, laying you down on your side. He lays down in front of you, his head propped up by your waist and his feet at the head of the bed. You caught a glimpse of his filthy soles as he inches down more and pulled your legs around his head. Remind someone to clean that floor later, you think. He buries himself in your pussy, resuming his earlier pace, his arms around your ass and pulling you close. His cock now hangs in front of your face and your lips part. You wrap your arms around his waist and begin licking up the pre-cum. He hums into you and the vibrations only add to the incredible sensation of him between your legs. You lick up his length from the base up and slap your face with his cock a few times before taking the tip into your mouth with gentle suction. 

Sam continues his feast while enjoying how warm and welcoming  your mouth feels while he fills it up. You take him deeper and deeper, sucking harder now and bobbing your head. The sounds of slurping, smacking, and your quiet gagging filled your ears, only making you wetter and wetter. His cock hits the back of your throat a few times as you concentrate on breathing through your nose. It’s hard to focus with a foggy head and the two fingers Sam slips inside you. He begins curling them just so, forming a rhythm. Hitting the perfect spot, your moan is muffled by his cock in your throat. He continues pushing into your g spot as you lose your focus and pull off him. You try to keep up at least a slow pace stroking his cock, but it doesn’t last. 

Your moans grow louder and louder and your eyes screw shut as you try to focus on the filthy sound of your soaking pussy being finger-fucked. “M-more baby, harder faster please please,” you beg, already feeling close to your orgasm. His focus leaves from his mouth as his fingers take the lead. You whimper and your leg twitches. You peek at Sam to see the delicious look on his face as he conducts his business. His mouth still hangs open, jaw tense, and strands of hair hang over his dark eyes. Your viewing is cut short by three pumps of his fingers tossing you over the edge. Your eyes clamp shut again, your body convulses, and you let out a strangled moan expressing just how well he’s done.  Your hands grab onto his leg and he keeps pumping while you ride the full length of your orgasm. It passes and leaves you breathing heavy for a minute or so. 

When you finally sit up, Sammy’s standing next to you drinking from a glass of water. You stare as his silhouette is backlit, his messy hair hanging down. He pushes it back into place just so as he gulps down a few more sips. You look him up and down and he appears relaxed, his breath even and his cock still hard. Your eyes catch here for a moment and he looks over at you, passing you the water. “Drink up, buddy. We’re not done yet.” He smiles at you with soft eyes watching you drink. He lays back on the bed the normal way, head in the pillows, taking himself into his hand and continuing without you until you’re ready. You watch his every movement in awe and swallow hard. “Climb aboard,” Sam instructs, patting his leg with his free hand. 

You follow his directions and drape a leg over him. You place your hands on his shoulders and his hands find their home on your waist again as you hover over him. You reach a hand down and stroke him a few times before sliding the tip of his cock through the folds of your pussy. You whine as you run it across your clit and slap it a few times leaving Sam groaning impatiently as he ached for you. “Alright, alright, you done teasing?” You smile playfully and briefly consider torturing him just for asking, but decide against it. His eyes look black as he gazes up at you, and you can’t resist anymore. 

“I am.” You spread your wetness down the length of his cock with your hand and sink down onto it, inch by inch. You hiss quietly as he stretches you and fills up your tight pussy oh-so perfectly. He moves a hand to the back of your neck, supporting it as your head falls back into his touch. You sigh, deeply and contently. Sam is a little less content and leans forward to decorate your exposed neck with soft, wet kisses. You come back to Earth and begin rocking back and forth on him, then shifting your knees a little better underneath you, you begin a bounce. He groans and closes his eyes, his free hand exploring your back and reading your skin. “Uh, shit,” you hear him mutter. His voice is hardly audible over the wet slapping of your skin against his balls. You switch up your angle a bit in search of the right spot and he starts fucking up into you. Your head falls forward towards his and he hits your g spot again. “Shit, Sammy baby, feel so fucking good,” you gasp. 

“Your pussy’s so tight and wet for me baby, love how you feel.” You whine at his words, and feel glad you got him going. You love dirty talking and getting each other worked up. 

Your hands find his face and you leave a few open-mouthed sloppy kisses on his mouth as you both collide in rhythm. “You fill me up so good, stretching me out, s-so big Sammy-” You’re cut off by your own pornographic moan. Your words must spurn Sam on in his quest to fuck you stupid, because he pulls you in close to his chest and starts slamming into you in a quick rhythm. He keeps this pace for a minute before letting you loose. 

“Come here.” He puts his hands under your ass where it meets your thighs and holds you over him, just the tip of his cock still inside you. You push all your weight into his hands before he pulls them away, leaving you crashing down onto him. You cry out at the sensation and he moans, his eyes closing tightly. His hair spreads over the pillow beneath him and he looks absolutely ethereal under you. His hands lift your ass back up and reset you to fall back onto his cock again. Each time you drop is as intoxicating as the last and each draws a sound from you both. After a short while Sam lifts you off of him and pulls you by your legs to lay down. He hovers over you, leaning down to for fleety kisses. “I love you, I love you,” he spoke through his kisses. Your hands grow needs as one intertwines with his hair and the other traces down his body. 

“I want more.” You wrap your legs around his waist and he lines himself up, and slides in slowly. “So perfect for me, you fill me just right.” He cups your face and finds his rhythm before kissing you again, more slowly but hard. Your teeth clash as he quickens his pace. He buries his head in your neck and you hear a heavenly moan escape his lips.

“Jesus christ, peanut, I’m gonna cum for you, okay?” You nod and lace his hair in your fingers again, this time holding a stronger grip to keep him muttering into your ear. ���I’m gonna fill your little pussy with cum, baby, are you ready?”

You help him over the edge by dirty talking back. “Yes Sammy, please, I wanna feel your hot cum inside me, need it so bad, please please Sam!” You let loose several moans as his pace falters, he grunts, and slows down a bit. You feel the warmth inside you and you know he’s cum, hard. He stays in place above you and thrusts four more times before slowly sliding out. He stares down in wonder as his cum spills out of your pussy, and he catches some on his fingers. You open your mouth and put out your tongue so he can give you a taste. You suck his fingers clean with a pop and he kisses you once more. 

“You want another, love?” His fingers ghost over your clit and cause you to shiver, the stimulation being too much. You shake your head and smile lazily, eyes squinting up at him. “You sleepyhead, huh?” You nod and sit up, wincing at the soreness. Sam grins and helps you up. “Go clean up real quick, I’ve got the bed.” 

“Thank you, Sammy.” You scamper off to the bathroom, the air cooling down your bare skin. You wash up and brush your teeth, and head back to the bedroom to find Sam remaking the bed with clean throw blankets. He’s even refluffed the pillows. You come up behind him and he turns to face you, giving you a sleepy grin. He sits down and pats the bed.

“Come cuddles.” He scoots back into his side of the bed and crawls under the covers, opening them up for you to crawl in after him. You lay down and pull up the covers and he presses his chest to your back. He kisses you on the crown of your head and tangles his legs up in yours. 

Though both tired, it’s still a bit early to go to bed. You sit in a moment or two of silence before Sam says, “Do you ever think about how, the sun and the moon are different sizes, but from Earth they look about the same? Such a weird coincidence.” You broke out laughing at where his mind had wandered, as though his dick wasn’t still pressed against your bare ass. He’s half hard, but he usually is during snuggling. It can make it difficult to sleep sometimes, honestly. 

“I guess I never thought about it before. That is weird.” You settle back into his chest a bit more and wiggle your hips into place. He groans and nose-laughs, thinking you were trying for another round already.

“Settle down, girly. Just cuddle for a while.” He sighs and his breath tickles your hair.

“I know, I know, I’m settling. Promise.” You take a deep breath and catch Sam’s scent. Not the smell of his cruelty-free hair products or vegan hemp lotion, but his own personal scent that he leaves on his clothes, the sheets, your hair. “You smell so good. Did you happen to lock the door when we came in?”

He hums in thought and says, “No. Did you?”

You laugh. “No, I didn’t either. And we never had our cocoa!”

“Let’s get it later, I’m so cozy here right now. Just a nap and we’ll get up okay?” You nod and melt further into his warm skin, letting your sleepy haze quickly consume you. 

You awake in the dimly lit room a few hours later, the lamp still on in the corner. Sam’s leg was over your waist and he had a hand cupping your tit. He snores a low snore. You imagine it would be less cute if it started waking you up, but luckily it never did. You shimmy out of his gangly limbs to get up and he stays dead asleep. You pull Sam’s paisley PJ pants off the floor and slide them on for some extra warmth. With a click you turn the lamp off and slither back under the covers, this time with your face buried in his chest. How sweet is he? you think, taking deep breaths of his scent and drifting back to sleep. 

[skinnedbutalive]

A month or so ago i hosted a small event for my audience: i asked people to send me my oc's names to know a random fact about them. Straight up questions were also appreciated, but it was not strictly required :) Here is what came of it:

This one was an announcement picture to get audiences attention to the event. Hand: So, are you ready to answer questions? Nadan: It's almost like giving an interview, no big deal. Alvi: i guess.

I once told a tiny frivolous fact about Hand hating blue socks, so one user asked the character why, and added, that if Hand won't answer, they'll address it to Alvi :D Hand: don't you da- Alvi: when he was a child he had a nightma- Hand: SHUT UP! Alvi: -about blue socks biting his feet o- Hand: NOT ANOTHER WORD YOU DIRTY TRAITOR!

Erist: In the past i was afraid to go outside. Be it night or day it was all the same, because it wasn't the Darkness that i feared. It was the thought, that they'll see me and figure out I survived, that gave me chills.

Rint: it's not that i avoid mirrors, but every time i spot my reflection i see my father. This makes me feel... strange. I try not to think about it.

Vasdemar: i couldn't come up with my signature for quite a long time. I wanted something awesome, calligraphic, with hooks and loops. But after ten times i got lazy so it transformed into a simpler one.

(Nemeska and her dream to catch a huge fish :D)

Elmir: Me? You really want to know something about me?? Give me a minute, it's so unexpected. Hmm... I... can't perceive myself separately from my flickerist. It guess you can say Rint and I are the same person, but i am, obviously, his best and smartest part. Although he forgets about it all the time.

Oftentimes I like to observe the life around me. To sit by a crowded street and feel the winds breeze, to listen to footsteps falling on metal, to see faces, smiles, to hear wisps of conversations. To behold. In these times my body...is an obstacle.

Brin: i've been taking antipsychotics since i turned ten. Tastes like shit.

Lugar: andrederas, coleuses, clivias, ferns, succulents. I know unnecessary amount about houseplants, nearly as much about ornamental plants, and a bit about wild ones. It's the most pointless knowledge i have. Can't stand them.

Erist: over the entire history of its existence humanity came up with many fascinating things. Music is the most to my liking. Motley, groovy, lyrical, dance music, folk music, classic music. It gives me melancholy not being able to enjoy it in my current circumstances.

(At the end I'd like to note i found out my twi didn't allow strangers to dm me. The problem is - hopefully - fixed now, so please try again if i didn't answer you! I probably didn't even see your message. So sorry for that, I'm an awful twitter user :'3)

[techtainia-makes-things]

I don’t have time to properly proof read this, but I’ll be busy for a few days and wanted to get this posted before then. Enjoy the MTMTE Megatron x reader Formal.

—

The heels of the shoes on Megatron’s holoform clicked against the marble flooring that was so white that it almost hurt to look at it. The ballroom just beyond the door was surely a sight to behold. Along the curved walls, long, finely carved pillars held up a magnificent dome with an absurdly large, probably diamond, chandelier hanging from the center. Windows were placed high above the ground between each of the pillars, except for one with a large archway leading out onto an absurdly large balcony, or maybe it was a fancy deck.

This was surely the lap of luxury, and he hated every second of it.

His jacket was too tight, and so was the red tie that a passing butler had forced upon him. It was all stuffy, and loud, and…

Wow, were you stunning.

You rushed down the hallway towards him as fast as you could in the stiff shoes you were wearing. The long tail of your blazer fluttered behind you and shone like silk. It probably was silk. The pants were large and flowy as well, almost skirt-like. The cut and neckline accentuated your shoulders like a dream. The entire outfit held in all the right places. 

Megatron couldn't keep his eyes off you.

You brushed a hand through your significantly shinier than usual hair and gave him a gentle half smile. “Sorry I’m late. The maids had no clue what to do with me.”

“You almost missed our walk-out.” He hid his admiration behind a stone cold glare. 

You held your gloved hands up. “I know, I know, but I’m here now.” You lock one of your arms with his. “The question now is: Are you ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You didn’t answer, and he didn’t push for one. Maybe it was for the best.

The two of you stepped down the polished marble stairs with caution, with your free hand holding onto the handrail for dear life. The heels of your shoes were just a little too high for your taste. All the people watching you in suits and fancy gowns you could never hope to afford even the fabric for just made it worse. That and the dead silence at the announcement. 

“We are proud to present Megatron and, the Duly Appointed Liaison of Human/Cybertonian relations, Y/N M/N L/N (Full name).”

Megaton supported your weight as he helped guide you to the ground. The party resumed with blaring classical music and far too expensive drinks.

You glanced over to Megatron, “You never answered my question.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “I am as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The first dance was the hardest. It was so much harder to be loose when the world of the rich and wealthy was watching you. You pushed through it, and miraculously, Megatron managed to not step on your toes this time. 

The song ended. You both drifted apart as a younger looking man asked you to dance. The dance with him was stiff and awkward as well, especially since you have never seen this man in your life. You rushed away as politely as possible when he asked if you came here often. 

It was far too crowded and stuffy inside. You stepped out onto the deck made of just as fine marble as the rest of the place. ‘These people have far too much money to spend,’ You thought as you examined a budding rose-like flower in a large vase on the railing. The marble and dome were nice, but far too much.

Megaton noticed you leaving, and with two obnoxiously small drinks in his large hands, he followed after you. You were staring up at the few stars that were not blocked out by the lights and lanterns when he arrived. The maids had definitely chosen the right outfit. “Mind if I join you?” He asked as you started down the stairs towards a garden that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

You gave him a lopsided smile. His spark fluttered. “Not at all.”

The two of you eventually landed on a bench surrounded in foliage with the drinks in hand and a small platter between you. “These are really good.” You took another bite out of one of the hors d'oeuvres. “Far too fancy though.”

Megatron chuckled goodnaturedly, but had a distant look in his eyes. “Agreed. I have to wonder about the condition of the rest of the planet.”

You leaned into him. “I do too. You feel terribly guilty about all of this too, right?”

“Of course.”

You nod. “Good. You’re improving faster than any of us thought you would.”

He gave you an odd, subtle smile. “That means more to me coming from you than you could ever know.”

“Anyways, I’ve heard you’ve been writing recently.” You took a sip of your drink.

“In fact I have.” 

“So who/what is the new muse?”

Megatron froze. He would rather dance with everyone in that ballroom than tell you about the flowery poetry he wrote about your private dance lessons. Or your divinity. Or your lips. Or the other endlessly wonderful things about you. “Most of it is frustration. Rants, if you will. Stolen moments and the clock ticking towards my trial.”

You place a firm hand on his shoulder. “At least we have these stolen moments together.” No matter how much you cared for him, you couldn't just brush off how he was, in fact, undeniably guilty. “At least you’re still alive. And quite frankly, I’m glad that I met you.’

Megatron looked down, unable to meet your eyes as he tried and failed to stop the pulsing of his spark for you. “And I as well.”

As the night inside died down and people started to leave, you got up and held out your hand to him. A slow song played from the inside at the perfect volume. “May I have this dance?”

Megatron took your hand, making an act of drawing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “Most definitely.”

He was shocked when you assumed the position from your first practice, with one of your hands locked with his and the other on his chest. He wrapped his free hand around your waist. 

It was not really a dance, more of a light sway to the music, but it was looser than ever before, almost romantic. Your face heated up at the thought and pink lightly dusted the high cheekbones of Megatron’s holoform. 

Those dance practices were so worth it, even as you both laughed on your way back up the stairs so you could both change and board the Lost Light yet again.

[thesinglesjukebox]

MITSKI - MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

(Mostly) Our Love Ours All Ours

[7.64]

Ian Mathers: Critical support for maybe our greatest current musician, who keeps the really key things in mind. Namely, never releasing a record that crosses the 33-minute mark. Sure, it's more important that this beautifully intense murmur of a song hits me square in the heart in ways that are too personal to articulate here right now, but I don't want to lose sight of the 33-minute thing either. [9]

Andrew Karpan: Sugary and alive, Mitski deserves this, a hit record that will likely be remembered as the millennial answer to "Fade Into You." Or, as Mitski says it best, in a marketing appearance promoting the song for the Genius brand, "to love is truly the best and most beautiful thing I ever did." [10]

Nortey Dowuona: Mitski is apparently a star now. For several years, she made earnest, plaintive songs which were received by a small but willing audience who was delighted to feel the same way as a generational talent who could sincerely speak to them. Then, by Be The Cowboy, she blossomed into a star, something more than a person who made earnest plaintive songs, a massive ball of heat and light who shone so brightly she couldn't see anything anymore. And of course, she tried to return to being at the very least a white dwarf, but supporting a solar system is so tied to the fact of being alive and being an artist that exploding and erasing the ties that bound her could not be done by deleting Twitter. Mitski, just like the sun that spins the planet on which I wrote this word, was not going to implode because it was valid for her health, her ability to live with being a creator of life would return. And eventually she would return to music as well, creating this slight, barely there country ballad about the possessive nature of her love. The sun loves us just as much as Mitski loves you and could exist without us too, but who would behold its beauty? Not Genius, that's who. [9]

Hannah Jocelyn: This song floated by without incident on first listen to The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We - songs like "The Deal" and "I Love Me After You" were more impressive to me, for its reconciliation of Mitski's claustrophobic distortion with her more traditional songwriting. Then it went stratospheric on TikTok then it went stratospheric everywhere. Maybe it's because the unassuming quality made it perfect as background music, maybe because it's two minutes; it might also be really damn good. The qualities that make Mitski so beloved are still there, especially her unpredictable chord progressions and intensity -- she can't go through a love song without a line as theatrical as "nothing in the world belongs to me." Yet there's no self-sabotage or dissonance; it's just plainly beautiful and timeless. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: She's always tended towards the jazzy and dirgelike, but this is Mitski in peak form: the lyric is a sketch exquisitely rendered -- while on Be the Cowboy, she wrote short stories in her stanzas, this is something even more skeletal, a narrative embedded within the slightest of narrative shifts. Patrick Hyland's production work has always worked to accentuate the more subtle accomplishments of Mitski's music; here he outdoes himself, taking what could have been an overly fussy mid-century torch song and allowing it to breathe with a certain country plainspokeness. And yet I do not love "My Love Mine All Mine" quite as much as I want to love it -- it feels like a song that answers all of its own questions from an artist that does her best when she leaves more open to interpretation. [8]

Vikram Joseph: There's really nothing wrong with what Mitski actually gives us here - a tasteful, timeless-sounding ballad, smooth and crystalline with pedal steel melting into the scenery. I think I just miss the angst and dissonance of her older work - even when Modern Mitski sounds sad, she's sad in an oddly arch way which sounds like she's three degrees of separation from the actual sad person. As a pathos-laden expression of dedication, "My Love Mine All Mine" at least works better than "Me And My Husband", a song I will never be able to take seriously, but it does very little for me. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Mitski is better when casual poignancy isn't the point. Her best songs steamroll over you, be they big or small, sad or extra sad. "My Love Mine All Mine" finds a nice Goldilocks zone to secure her a hit, but this lovely ballad is simply just that. [4]

Alfred Soto: I like Mitski when she gets sinister or worried over programmed beats and yards of guitar. This synth-country landscape flattens her like it did Jenny Lewis and Kacey Musgraves. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: The Nashville instrumentation is just decoration. And the TikTok virality is misleading (or not, if you ignore the conventional wisdom that everything that blows up there is memeshit). On Be the Cowboy, Mitski's music began a slow arc toward Jerome Kern balladry and songbook standards, and "My Love Mine All Mine" continues the drift. What she loses in visceral emotion, she gains in haunting lineage. [8]

Tara Hillegeist: "Lynchian" is an adjective applied to excess most often in film, rather than music; Mitski's career provides ample food for thought as to the reasons for such a disparity. The birthing pangs of her current style were anything but as simple, as many of her past musical compositions often aspired to be -- to pack such naive melodies with enough antic heartache that one's ribcage bears the internal bruise is an aspiration that can easily go awry and leave one stranded in the land of the maudlin and mawkish, rather than piercingly insightful, and there's more than a few examples of both littering Mitski's back catalog by now. But to listen to "My Love"'s almost lysergic deployment of a swooning orchestral blush; the way Mitski's voice ripens almost to rotting with that obsessive slow-dance of a chorus ... this is music for the bugs to pick clean an American corpse to. Angelo Badalamenti would be proud. [9]

Tim de Reuse: Dripping with Nashville cash, Mitski's pathos no longer derives from a plucky indie-upstart unpredictability. There is no unsteadiness in her voice anymore; she chews the microphone to sing about the end of her life, wishing only for a symbolic, cosmic victory. Here she plays a ghost, or a corpse, preserved in a glossy, gelatinous mix, and barely able to raise her voice above a casual mutter. It's gorgeous, and also deeply unnerving. I didn't know Mitski could do unnerving. Even in death, she surprises. [8]

Jonathan Bradley: A twilit romantic slow jam that draws cozy darkness as literally from its slow organ drift and sepia pedal steel as it does its actual moonbeam lyric. This is comfortable terrain for Mitski, whom I picture composing every one of her songs while driving along a rural road on a dark night, but there's no shame in repeating yourself if you're good at it. [7]

Brad Shoup: In my household, "My Love Mine All Mine" is most notable for getting Caitlin Rose into the Top 40. She's only here on vocals, but her ethos -- cozy existentialism that uses the pedal steel like a flashlight -- is all over this. This may not be as distinctive as, like, the plaintive noise-pop of "I Don't Smoke." But the sway is still the same. And her impossible requests are just as devastating. [8]

Oliver Maier: Sometimes I don't think I know how to write about music. I think everyone who tries it has probably felt that way at some point, some sense of the inadequacy of their words, the impulse to throw up their hands and say "just listen to it" (complimentary) or "just listen to it" (derogatory), because what do you say about a song that it doesn't say itself? What an extraordinary act of arrogance to attach yourself to something someone made and try to explain it to anyone, however careful or empathetic you are in doing so, however many times you qualify your opinion. I imagine this anxiety probably lurks in some form, in some place, inside everyone who has tried to do this stupid, circuitous, fucking frustrating thing. People like to talk about things, though. It feels good to do, like a magic bridge that you can feel forming between yourself and someone else when they articulate something that was inside you too. I listened to this song non-stop for a week when it came out, and I barely know what to say about it. I think it's wonderful. Just listen to it. I feel very emotional thinking about Mitski and the path of her career in a way that makes me a bit embarrassed. I feel very emotional hearing her sing about the fundamental, indissoluble value of a feeling that she has, only holding it, not needing to clutch or cradle it, letting its light seep out from between her fingers. I find it so moving to hear someone who has -- largely unwillingly, it must be said -- become a symbol of self-pity and depressive angst sing with such easy generosity towards themselves. It's hard when you are so used to seeing a magic bridge between yourself and another person collapse, or perhaps when you rarely see it built at all, to reserve some dignity for the silly, hopeful part of yourself that keeps seeking out planning permission. Just listen to it. What an extraordinary act of arrogance to attach yourself to another person and think they could see you and think about you the way that you do them. Sometimes I don't think I know how to be in love. I'm going to keep trying anyway. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[polarisbibliotheque]

Music Tag Game \o/

I was tagged by the ever wonderful @kaus-quietis to show you (and consequently talk about) my questionable musical taste :D

Thank you so much for the tag, dear!! Music is so important to me, it makes me sparkle with joy when someone wants me to talk about it!

Originally, I wanted to pursue a musical career, but it was strictly forbidden by my family. Only now I'm starting to get into art, but music has always been a secret passion for me "^^

So without further ado, first one is the music we have in common, second one is mine:

Why did I underline a few in Kaus'?

Siouxsie and the Banshees and DIO are two artists that I've heard of and want to check out more of their music. Siouxsie, I haven't heard, but given the fact I like The Cure, I think I'm gonna like it. DIO, I've heard a couple of songs, mostly from my Guitar Hero days, and I do like it. Gotta check more music.

Arctic Monkeys, I think I have a couple of their songs on my playlist. I don't know MUCH about them, but the songs I have, I enjoy very much!

Rachmaninoff, I listen to whenever I'm on a piano listening mood. Given that Matt Bellamy from Muse is very much inspired by him, I listened to a lot of Rachmaninoff when I was in high school - but I don't really have one specific song I like to listen to. I'm more of a Tchaikovsky girl, given that I do adore all his ballets too xD

A little bit more about mine

My musical preference is everywhere, but there are two important moods: beautiful idyllic romantic Studio Ghibli style and let's set the whole fucking world on fire style. Also, there's the good vibes fun type of music.

Regarding favourite bands: Muse and U2 are at the very top of my list, since I was a kid. I love their sound, their feeling, experimentation, lyrics, visuals... Everything. I borrow a lot from them when writing and playing.

Also, I absolutely adore Matt Bellamy.

Cazuza and Skank, if you never heard about them, they are Brazilian musicians with GREAT songs. From Skank, I recommend Resposta, Garota Nacional and Vou Deixar as starters. From Cazuza, the poet of Brazil, I recommend Ideologia, O Tempo Não Para and Brasil. Get the translation of the lyrics - you're gonna cry with O Tempo Não Para. I guarantee it.

On OSTs: I listem to them a lot. When I was a rebellious little piano player, I found in OSTs the common ground with my family who wanted me to play classical music while I wanted to play rock n' roll. I have a deep love for it now - and I gotta say, Cyberpunk 2077 has one of THE BEST OSTs I've ever heard in my life. So many songs from it on my playlist :')

I'm also using it and Darksynth and Industrial Metal while I'm writing my Cyberpunk-style book, it's more than amazing.

Johnny Silverhand is ALSO amazing, I love that unlovable man, he definitely inspired my whole book and another personal story I have which is literally a woman who talks with ghosts and her guardian angel who is a recently deceased rockstar :)

Well, regarding piano: like I said, I'm more of a Tchaikovsky person, love most of his work. I also like Liszt, Debussy, Mozart, Vivaldi and such; but I also love searching for piano covers of modern songs you think are never going to turn out good - but then lo and behold, they do.

That's 'cause I like playing music by ear on the piano. My mom says what she likes about it is that she never imagines the songs I choose could sound good on the piano, but I make it obvious that the melody of the song itself is beautiful. I don't think it's a "me" thing, I think we often get distracted by everything else in the song, we tend to ignore that ultimately what we fall in love with is the beautiful melodies behind it.

Overall, I like controversial people who make music, art and lyrics that make people think. I like a more sort of in-your-face kind of thing, that actually says things and fights what's seen as conventional/conservative society. I do think art is a way to fight the system and being counter-politically-correct is an inherent part of it (with its limits too, I have to add).

I'm aware it's an extreme point of view and not everyone agrees with it, you're welcome to disagree with me, don't worry! ^^

I'm a product of catholic school

Now, after all my musical blabbering, I also have to state I have an unhealthy thing for bassists and guitarrists. Dunno why, I fall in love with them and I adore musical people. I could happily drown in their music, no regrets.

My tendencies are bigger towards bassists, though

And this is the son of a b*tch who decided to claim my heart currently and I'm hating it, my personal nightmare.

I'll leave you with that currently xD

I was going to recommend a few songs from each artist I listed, buuut the post is already too big. I'm gonna do it in a next post!

you got me talking about music, I'll never stop now

I'm no pressure tagging @furyeclipse and @princesssakurasylveon, I thought you guys might like it and I am curious about what kind of music you love ^^

Also, if anyone else wants to do it, you're tagged too!! Go!!

[findingvigilante]

Date: May 15, 2022

I took a break from research this morning and decided to grab breakfast at Fennel's. Despite what everyone in town says, the breakfast there is actually really good. I got my usual which was the early bird special that consisted of eggs, bacon or sausages, toast, two pancakes and coffee or juice. It tasted exactly how I remembered back in high school when the place first opened up for business.

As I was eating, I couldn't help but think about the shadow in my window last night. Before I left to go out this morning, I stopped to ask my landlord if it was possible for anyone to climb the front of the building. He said "not unless they can stick to walls". Maybe it was just my imagination after all. It was late and I was tired, so my mind began to play tricks on me. That sounds a hell of a lot better than the idea of someone actually watching me from outside my window late at night.

Adrian had taken my dishes away, offering a cute dimpled smile as I got up to leave. He had headphones on and I could hear the faint tune of "Blitzkrieg Bop" by The Ramones coming from them as he quickly cleaned off my table and wheeled the dishes away in a tray, his head bobbing to the music. After paying for my meal, I headed back out to my car and decided to drive around town to see if anything had changed over the last ten years.

As expected, nothing really changed. I saw some familiar faces and they saw me but that's as far as my socialization with the townspeople went. I mainly didn't want to get out of my car because a group of people walked out from behind O'Rourke's wearing white hoods that resembled a pillow case and I immediately put my head down to avoid accidentally making eye contact with them. White Dragon and his crew weren't people you wanted to mess with. Evergreen was riddled with these Halloween enthusiasts but as goofy as they looked, they still struck fear into people who had the misfortune of encountering them.

The police station was my next stop. Two officers greeted me at the front desk, their smiles immediately falling when I asked if I could get my hands on copies of all their Vigilante reports. When they asked me why, I told them I was a reporter for the Daily Planet and I was writing a story on their local superhero. Their response? They laughed. Right in my face. And then proceeded to belittle me by saying "why is the Planet so interested in a small town killer?" I wasn't about to tell them that it wasn't necessarily the Planet that was interested, but they were starting to annoy me so I left the station feeling frustrated and questioning myself and this entire story.

But lo and behold, I get a call from my contact Charlie at 3 in the morning, saying there was an explosion outside Wild Estates Apartment Complex and I might be interested in seeing if the Vigilante was involved. Naturally, I drove over there as soon as possible. The complex looked exactly the way it did from my childhood when a few of my friends used to live here. It was famous for drug deals and the occasional failed demon summoning (don't ask).

The parking lot, or what was left of it, was filled with debris from surrounding vehicles as well as crawling with the police. Their lights flashed red and blue, lighting up the area as they scoured the lot for evidence of what caused this....explosion? It looked like an explosion but then again, I wasn't an expert in forensics.

Detective Song was on the scene along with her partner Detective Fitzgibbons. The scene had been taped off with the typical crime scene yellow tape, so I waited patiently on the other side for a quote. Song finally noticed me standing there with a pen and paper and rolled her eyes. She asked who I was with, seemingly surprised when I said Daily Planet. I asked if she thought Vigilante was involved and she gave me an odd look but said no. They had a call about some sort of explosion in the parking lot but the description of the perp didn't match that of Vigilante. When I asked if they had any suspects in mind, she declined to answer. Then I was escorted off the scene by Fitzgibbons.

I'm back at my apartment trying to piece together why the parking lot looked the way it did. The pavement looked like some kind of blast struck it. A powerful one at that. Metahuman? No. Can't be. Evergreen is too boring for a metahuman to suddenly show up. The cars were destroyed beyond recognition apart from one: a very patriotic looking car that felt familiar but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. As I'm typing this, I'm listening to the police scanner for any sign that my mystery masked man is involved. Nothing so far, and my eyes are starting to burn the longer I stare at my screen. Tonight, I added a reminder on my phone that tells me to lock the windows and shut the blinds.

The last thing I needed was a late night visitor standing over me as I slept.

[gregthecoolnerd]

So my buddy, @hikari-ni-naritai tagged me in a music meme to list some albums you've listened to recently. So challenge accepted, though mine are probably gonna be a little more different.

Swamp by Lil Darkie

Lil Darkie is one of the most eclectic artists I've discovered in recent years. While he's mainly known as a rapper, he does so many songs under different genres, it's crazy. Swamp is a good example of this containing songs that can be classified as rap, but also punk, metal, alternative rock, folk and ambient songs as well. Even the rap songs fall under different sub-genres of rap such as experimental hip-hop, alternative hip-hop, trap metal, punk rap and even straight up traditional hip-hop. Darkie is also a gifted lyricist making fun of conformity, censorship, bigotry and many of the other ills of society as well as opening up about his own personal life. If you have an hour and twelve minutes to spare, I highly recommend it.

Glow On by Turnstile

Turnstile started off as your typical band heavily influenced by the punk scene of the 80's to 90's taking obvious cues from guys like Sick of it All, Black Flag, Bad Brains, Suicidal Tendencies and Leeway. However with their last album, "Time + Space," they began to incorporate some more eclectic influences, which on this album, they go more full bore on. The album is still punk, but it's got bits of everything from metal, to grunge, to acid rock, to pop, to funk and R&B thrown in. It gives the album a really unique feeling that makes it a lot of fun to listen to and one I would highly recommend.

Dimension Hatröss by Voivod

If you ever wondered to yourself, "What would it sound like if you merged Rush, Motörhead and The Ramones together into a single band," then boy do I have good news for you. Voivod is just the band to answer that question and boy do they do a great job doing it. This album is pure thrash metal genius, with a proggy and experimental feel to it, following the insane exploits of the band's cyborg mascot, Korgull. It's a kick ass and amazing concept album full of killer riffs and solos, sweet drum parts, fantastic basslines and lyrics that sound like something you'd read in an old issue of, "Heavy Metal," or see in an old 80's sci-fi anime. Really awesome stuff.

U-Void Synthesizer by Machine Girl

The best way I could describe the sound of Machine Girl’s music for the most part would be that it sounds like a lawnmower fucking an old 56k modem to death while a dude screams lyrics about his hatred for authority and society. Definitely not to everyone’s tastes, but then again, that’s the point. But if you want a unique combo of glitch, breakcore, drum n’ bass, industrial, punk and metal, you can’t go wrong.

Song Machine by Gorillaz

I didn’t think Gorillaz would ever make another album that could match the genius and eclecticism of Demon Days and it’s companion D-Sides ever again. But lo and behold they proved me wrong and delivered with Song Machine, an absolutely wonderful collection of songs spanning many genres of music with collaborations from Robert Smith, Beck, slowthai, Slaves, ScHoolboy Q and many others. Simply a wonderful listen.

That’s all I have right now. I don’t really have anyone to tag, so whoever stumbles across this can do it.

[peppertaemint]

Hello, I have questions kkkkkk that I hope you tackle if you are not busy. I am simple person who like simplicity in music and the videos as well. When it comes to the song it does not need to have that many layering or a lot of shouting for example music videos like that of jimin's serendipity is my jam, jk's still with you song I love and magic shop from bts I love. I am someone of a Michael bolton , Phil Collins music fan (some might say I am boring I know). Question 1 is if I am like this does this mean I do not know art in music because I like simple and basic stuff. If a music video is dramatic e.g with hellfire, dragons, snakes mating or peolpe with horns on the forehead killing each other doesn't interest me does that mean I am not art person and I lack imagination which means I know nothing about music. Does an artist have to release songs about being consumed by darkness, having mental breakdown, or having no sense of belonging in this world for it to be considered true art? Do artist have to be naked, kissing or making love on the screens for it to be deemed worthy of being a good music video. I know I have asked lot of questions. The last one being does me having a simplistic taste of sunshines and rainbows and a friend of mine being into the intriguing dark themes means that we become biased if when it comes to analyzing jhope and jin's solo careers.

Hi Anon,

The simple answer is no. Simple things are not bad. A very simple artwork can be full of meaning. But, simple does not equal rainbows and sunshine. Rainbow and sunshine are the content or subjects of the art. The point is - true art has to do with meaning and how the audience receives it. Only the beholder can judge what true art is... which means it's subjective and changes from person to person.

There's nothing wrong with liking music that is light or easy listening. Or that is sweet, cheerful and charming only. This is personal preference. We all have it. I love yacht rock. Give me Hall and Oates any day. 💀

Art focused on dark subject matters can be simple or complex too. It can be well executed and meaningful or badly done and offensive. Or boring. The presence of a snake does not art make. (Omg I really am old)

So, when it comes to different groups or the BTS solos, we should respect everyone's personal taste. But respecting taste doesn't mean you don't get an opinion. You can say I don't like that because of XYZ. You're also allowed to take a critical approach should you choose. But, music is meant to be enjoyed first and foremost. ❤️

Will your preferences make you biased? Of course. Everyone single human is biased. It's impossible to avoid. All you can do is listen to others' perspectives and try to understand them. This will make you aware of your own biases.