#made like only one-third of them some kind of musicians

[redmarqar]

ever wondered what happened to the blu team in my au?me neither

anyway BEHOLD (AGAIN)- THE TEAM FORTRESS 2 ROCK AU: POST-BLU TEAM

drew some of them in pairs so they'll be going out of the usual class order!!

[laundrybiscuits]

Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half. 

He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak. 

It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try. 

Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame. 

“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England. 

“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”

“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.

Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go. 

Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie. 

Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off. 

He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway. 

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once. 

It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”

They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.

It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day. 

Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.

[quiet-admirer]

Devotion

As promised, here is a little excerpt from Chapter 3 of my current work-in-progress, an enemies-to-lovers M/M queer weight gain kink and feedist story, Devotion, about 2 hardcore punks in 1979 :) Enjoy!

The walk home from the 7-Eleven was tantalizingly, excruciatingly long at first, but once Ira threw out a “How d’you think that bassist tonight got tone like that?” they got to talking shop, and it was like Diego blinked and they were at his apartment door.

Diego flopped onto the futon with the box of SusyQs on his lap and unwrapped his third of the night while Ira unlaced his boots across the room.

“Want a drink? There’s beer in the fridge.”

Ira slid off one boot then the other and stood them neatly by the door. “I don’t drink. Or smoke,” he said with unrestrained disdain. “I don’t do anything. I’m not going to waste time and money poisoning my body and my mind. I want to actually experience my life.”

God, Ira being not only totally straight but also a self-righteous snob about it made so much sense that Diego didn’t know why he’d even thought to offer him a beer in the first place.

“I don’t. Grab me some mind poison, will ya?” Truthfully, he was more in the mood for a Dr. Pepper, but giving Ira a hard time was more satisfying.

Ira pulled a face. “Get it yourself.” He sunk into the couch next to Diego and nudged the box of snack cakes with his foot. “Keep eating, SuzyQ. When you get through this box I’ll order the pizza.”

Diego had never before met anyone who gave him a truly carnal desire to throttle them and yet at the same time kiss them to within an inch of their life. It was as if this one shorter-than-average man single-handedly generated so much irritation that it flooded Diego’s brain and had nowhere to go but to overflow directly to his dick. And somehow he’d also enjoyed every minute he’d spent with Ira in the days since they’d made up. Only Meena could’ve made Diego smile more than he had in the past few hours.

With so many opposing emotions flooding his veins, all Diego could manage was to stuff the cake into his mouth pointedly before retrieving both a beer and a Dr. Pepper for himself, and knocked into Ira maybe a little more than was necessary when he returned to the futon. It took him two more SuzyQs to feel levelheaded enough to resume his questioning.

“So, how does this eating part usually work? Do you handcuff me to the chair and make me eat? Blindfold me? Spoon-feed me like a baby? Am I supposed to act like I don’t like it – is making someone eat how you discipline them – or are you more of a praise guy? Or do you just jerk off while you watch?”

“Hm, well… Any of those, I guess. There isn’t one way to do it, everyone’s different. Just depends on what gets ya hard – and gets you eating, you know?” He looked at Diego thoughtfully. “You’re kind of creative, when it comes to weird sex stuff.”

“Thanks for specifying that the creativity is for weird sex stuff in case I got confused and thought you meant I was a creative person generally, or as, say, a musician.”

“You’re welcome,” Ira said with a nasty sarcastic smile. “With the guys I’ve been with, a couple of them did want me to tie them up and act like I’m forcing them to eat. That’s fine, I don’t mind that. My favorite is probably just feeding someone, though. So, basically I keep giving them food until they physically can’t eat anymore.”

“Huh, okay.” Diego was no stranger to that feeling, and it sure wasn’t a bad one by any means. He mulled the logistics over in his head. “Let’s try that. So, you’ll just keep handing me slices of pizza until I tap out?”

“Yep. And if you’re too full to keep feeding them to yourself but you want to keep eating, I’ll feed them to you,” Ira explained.

“Too full to keep feeding myself but want to keep eating…” Oof. Okay, this was sounding more and more like Diego’s kind of sex. “You know, I can really put it away under the right conditions, but… you’ve been with some serious eaters, huh?”

Ira laughed. “You could definitely say that.”

“And is there any roleplay or anything? Are there certain things you want me to say or things you want to say?”

He shook his head. “No roleplay the first time. Especially since you’re new to all this. I want you to get a feel for what it’s like eating that much. It can be a lot for some people.” Ira reached over Diego’s lap and retrieved the Dr. Pepper, and Diego let him even though it had definitely been for himself. Ira cracked open the can with a hiss and took a long gulp. “And you don’t just want to eat: you want to put your 30 pounds back on. But the thing about gaining a lot of weight is that it’s not like other pervert stuff where you can just put on a costume when you’re feeling horny; it’s not something you do here and there. You have to eat more on a regular basis.” Ira stood and paced halfway across the room before turning back again.

“Not everyone likes doing it this way – the eating a lot at once way. Some people prefer eating a little more at meals and snacking throughout the day,” he gestured in the air with his can of Dr. Pepper like he was a professor giving a lecture. “So, tonight we’re just seeing if you’re into this kind of eating. I’m going to be responsible for your weight gain, and– well, you already know putting weight on and keeping it on isn’t as easy as it looks, so I like to play to a guy’s strengths to get that to happen. That’s why I want to see what your real reactions are when we start out. We can add the fun stuff as we go.”

It sounded surprisingly sweet when Ira talked about it in a practical way and not just in a heat-of-the-moment ‘I’m going to be the one to put all this weight on you,’ cue evil laugh, kind of way. He was dominant in the sense that he was looking out for Diego; taking care of him. Not just fattening him up, but helping him gain weight. A dictator maybe, but a benevolent one, which on Ira was ridiculously endearing.

“I think I get it,” Diego smiled. “‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

Ira looked at him with distaste. “Is that from the bible or something?”

Diego snorted. He grabbed the phone off the upturned milk crate beside the futon and shoved it into Ira’s chest. “Just order the damn pizza.”

Diego finished the first box of SuzyQs and they’d moved to necking on the couch by the time two large pizzas arrived.

Ira opened the first box but paused halfway through reaching for the first slice.

“Oh, you said you were into leather, right? Do you have gear, or– anything you wanna wear while we do this?”

“Oh. No,” Diego scrunched his nose. “It’s all too big for me right now.”

“That sucks,” Ira said, with actual sympathy. He picked up the first slice of pizza, pepperoni, and offered it to Diego. “Maybe I can help you out with that.”

Diego took as big of a bite of pizza as he could fit in his mouth before taking the slice from Ira. “Please do,” Diego said through a full mouth.

“You should try them on for me so I can see what we’re starting with.”

“Sure.” He crammed in the rest of the slice and stood, kicking a box out from under the futon. Still chewing, he dug in the back of the closet for his jacket and pants.

They weren’t anything fancy, no bells or whistles, just a pair of black leather pants and a simple leather jacket; vintage, but he took a sense of pride in them all the same.

Diego stripped, then pulled on the pants without bothering to unbutton them. Kneeling, he removed the lid from the box.

“Boots. Harness,” he pointed. He slipped the harness on, then the jacket, and stood again. He had to widen his stance a little to keep the pants from sliding down.

Ira had another slice of pizza in hand as he joined Diego in the center of the room. Same as the first slice, Diego took a bite as Ira held it up for him before taking it for himself.

Ira circled Diego like he was inspecting him, appraising him. It sent a little thrill through Diego’s stomach knowing that as fat as he already was, it was clear from some of the things Ira had been saying that he still thought of Diego as pretty small.

Good. Diego never wanted to be this size again. Ira had better get a good look now.

After a final turn, Ira hooked a finger in Diego’s waistband and tugged a little, exposing about an inch gap between the leather and Diego’s skin. He did the same with the harness: a hand-me-down from a guy who probably had about a hundred pounds on Diego, so Diego had already been on the smallest holes of the buckled straps before he lost the weight. It would be easy to have a bootblack add in another set of holes, but that thought always made this size seem long-term, permanent.

So here he was: harness hanging limp off his chest, leather pants loose through the thighs, shoulders and biceps not quite filling out his jacket. But he couldn’t bring himself to be self-conscious. Ira’s hungry gaze roaming over him, and the quickly vanishing second slice of pizza infused the buzz of potential into the air. The space between himself and his leather wasn’t feeling quite so large tonight.

Ira was smiling as Diego finished slice number two. “You look hot. I’ve never really been that much of a leather guy, but… you might’ve sold me.”

“You should see me when they actually fit.” He brought his hands to his hips and gave Ira a cocky smile. “My ass looks really great in leather.”

“Already does.” Ira stepped in. His hands slipped past Diego’s jacket, fingers ghosting along Diego’s sides. “I can’t wait to get you filling these out again. C’mere.” He dropped back down next to the pizza box and beckoned.

Diego shed his gear. He didn’t bother with a shirt but pulled on a pair of well-worn, comfy sweats – a larger pair; tonight was calling for eating pants.

He settled on the couch next to Ira, making himself comfortable.

“I see somebody knows what he’s doing,” Ira poked at Diego’s elastic waistband.

With a smile, Diego reached for the next slice.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

hi mousey!! been a while since I sent you an ask

I was putting on my make up earlier today and an idea came to mind, I need to know your opinion on this

how do you think the sdv + sve bachelors would react to a farmer who asks to do their make up? which ones do you think refuse? which ones ask before the farmer does, "can you do it?"? and which ones just accept?

hope you have a great day <3

Hope you have a good day too, dear anon, and thanks for the ask! ☺️❤️

SDV and SVE bachelors react to the Farmer who asks to do their makeup:

Shane:

"Babe, I don't know anything about this."

Still, Shane tries to try to give them a makeup so they don't get upset.

Unfortunately, it didn't work very well.

But he does get a funny little face made of mascara on Farmer's cheek, heh.

Next time, however, he'll refuse, as he'll only make it worse.

Well, at least Shane and Farmer got a funny little memory.

Elliott:

Surprisingly, Elliott agrees right away.

And what's more surprising is that he manages to help Farmer with the make-up very well.

Everything is precise, neat and harmonious, like wow!

Surely our long-haired writer hasn't been a stylist before?

Elliott is happy to do Farmer's make up and tells them not to hesitate to ask him for help in the future.

Harvey:

"Oh, make-up? I'm sorry, my dear, but I don't think I can..."

Harvey does agree to help, though he doesn't count on success.

Totally calm when applying mascara to Farmer, but accidentally paints their cheek with mascara anyway.

On the third or fourth attempt, the doctor manages to give Farmer a simple and quite passable make-up.

Hey, a reason to be proud, he helped his loved one!

Sam:

Hell yeah, Sammy can do quite good make-up! A little different, though.

The young musician has been thinking about make-up for his music band for a long time, so he's had time to practice.

Even though Farmer needs a light, simple ("and boring" as Sam described it) make-up, he can still help them.

And will do very well with mascara and foundation.

"You sure you don't want cool make-up like metal bands? Eh, okay..."

Sebastian:

Sebastian definitely uses black eyeliner (my headcanon, you can't change my mind).

At times our dear emo was too lazy to do his own eyeliner, so will ask Farmer for help first. "Hon, can you help with the eyes please?"

Doesn't know much about the rest of make-up products, but if you need to emphasise your eyes, Sebby will never refuse a request.

And he'll ask for it himself if Farmer's okay with it as well.

Alex:

What make-up? He's not a girl!

To be honest, Alex has only had a couple of make-ups, which are usually done by gridball fans, and, well, that's basically it.

So if Farmer's going to the stadium, then Alex can help with cool sport fan make-up.

If it's just some regular make-up, then no, sorry. He can't do it.

He could try, but he'd end up with paint all over their face. Oh well, at least he tried.

Victor:

"Makeup? Oh, I've never done it, but my mom does her own makeup every day. Maybe she could help you?"

If Farmer insists on getting help from Victor specifically, he will politely decline.

He'd be interested in the idea, though, and a little later he'd watch tutorials on his laptop or ask Olivia.

The next time Victor offered to help Farmer with their makeup, wanting to practice.

"I thought it sounded interesting. Besides, we'll have one more common interest."

Magnus Rasmodius:

"Only with magic can I fulfil your request."

For Magnus, magic is almost the solution to all problems. He thinks magic will help here, too....

With his hands? Sorry, Farmer. A wizard certainly can't do your make up by hands. Only with a spell.

Well, he still has to remember the spell.....

Hold on, he should ask Camilla, she's definitely using that kind of spell.

Lance:

Another clever mage from the magical society where agree to help Farmer with the help of his magic.

He also watches his appearance and sometimes uses spells, but he doesn't do his own makeup and tries to take care of himself without cosmetics.

How then he knows the spells of instant perfect makeup is a mystery.

A snap of his fingers and in a second, he has perfect makeup on Farmer's face.

Though in the future he may learn a couple of basics on how to do Farmer's makeup without magic. Just because the process itself is kinda interesting.

[josephlikesmusic]

Live Show Review! The Saviors Tour (Denver)

I've been wanting to start reviewing the different shows I go to but haven't gotten around to going to one since I started this blog, until now! Green Day has been my favorite band for like 6 years now, and between the full album plays and how much I love the singles off of Saviors, I just had to go to this.

I had heard of the Linda Lindas before, but I constantly forgot to go check them out. I was pleasantly surprised to find out how young the band's members are, with the drummer being only fourteen years old! It's great to see musicians my age finding success in the music industry while also making great music. I love the whole cat theme the band had going on, and they all had great stage presence for how new of a band they were. I would love to see them live again, and wish the best for them in their future.

I've been a pretty big Rancid fan for a few years now, especially their album "...And Out Come the Wolves" and I loved the selection of songs that they played, although I do wish that they were given a longer set time. I know that Green Day was doing a massive set and that the Smashing Pumpkins are a bigger draw, but I would've loved to hear a few more songs out of these guys. Hopefully I'll be able to see them again in the near future as a headlining act!

I had seen the Smashing Pumpkins before, but I will say that I enjoyed this show a lot more. Maybe I was just disappointed that they didn't do an encore at their hometown show when I saw them headline at the United Center in Chicago... Either way, I always forget how many Smashing Pumpkins songs I enjoy until I go and listen and this was yet again the case with this show. I do wish that the band had a bit more stage presence, especially Billy Corgan, but their kind of music also doesn't really call for much. I wouldn't mind seeing Smashing Pumpkins live again, but I also don't think that I would go out of my way to watch them perform again. Two of their shows is enough for me lol.

Now for the big guns: GREEN DAY!! If you know anything about me then you know I'm the biggest Green Day fan ever actually. At one point I was in their top 0% of listeners in my Spotify wrapped, and used to be the top last.fm listener until people started to leave them on loop 24/7 to beat me (totally not salty about that). This was my third time seeing Green Day live, and I feel like every time they out-do themselves just a little more. It was INCREDIBLE seeing both Dookie and American Idiot live, and I just have so many videos of myself sob-singing along to about half of the songs they played. Seeing some of my favorite songs that I thought I would never have the chance to watch live was actually life changing. From Having a Blast and All by Myself off of Dookie, to Homecoming and Letterbomb off of American Idiot, I really was having the time of my life. I was also glad that I was able to see the singles from their latest album, Saviors, but I will NEVER get over the fact that they debuted 1981 the SHOW AFTER I SAW THEM LIVE LAST SUMMER. (They actually hate me personally) I am so grateful to be able to see that amazing set, Green Day really made a night that I will never forget and I can't wait to see what they do next. (PINHEAD GUNPOWDER PLEASE ANNOUNCE A US TOUR PLEASE COME TO COLORADO)

[adarkrainbow]

Tales from Broca street: The Mouffetard street witch

Let me begin with the first Broca street fairytale I ever encountered, as well as one of the most famous of the lot: "La sorcière de la rue Mouffetard", "The witch of Mouffetard street".

Once upon a time, in the Mouffetard street, in the aptly named Goblin neighborhood, lived a very old and very ugly witch who wanted to become young and pretty. [La rue Mouffetard is a real street, located near Broca street, in fact Mouffetard street is one of the oldest Parisian streets ; and the neighborhood is really called le quartier des Gobelins, because there is a famous manufecture there called "Les Gobelins"].

One day, as she was checking the Witches Newspaper, she discovered an ad that revealed the secret to turn old and ugly women into young and pretty girls: all that is needed is to eat a little girl, with tomato sauce. There is a caveat however: the little girl must have a name beginning with N. Immediately the witch is settled: she knows a little girl with an N-name... Nadia, one of the daughters of papa Saïd from the Broca street nearby.

As Nadia was coming back from the baker with some bread, the witch stopped her and, pretending to be a harmless old woman, asked her to go fetch a box of tomato sauce from her father's shop to bring it to her. Nadia, kind-hearted, agrees, not knowing she will be bringing by herself the sauce with which the witch will eat her. However, when her father sees what she is doing he tells her: "No. If this old woman wants something, she should come by herself to the shop, don't bring anything to her." The following day the witch goes to Nadia after she made the groceries, asking her why she didn't bring the sauce: when Nadia explains why, the witch decides it is safer to go buy the tomato sauce herself.

So the witch goes to Papa Saïd's shop, and tries to ask him for a tomato sauce box - however she keeps revealing by mistake her real intentions, much to the confusion of papa Saïd ("What do you want? / I want Nadia! / What? / No, I meant a box of tomato sauce! / Okay, small or big? / Big, it's for Nadia! / What? / No, I meant... big it's for pasta! / Oh, so you want to buy pasta with it? / No, I already have Nadia! / What!"

Hopefully papa Saïd clearly isn't bright enough to understand the old woman is a child-eating witch. The witch tries to have papa Saïd send his daughter Nadia to deliver the box at her house, or at least help her carrying it, pretending it is quite heavy... But papa Saïd, simple-minded, down-to-earth merchant that he is, dryly answers "We don't do deliveries, and my daughter has more important things to do: if this box is too heavy for you, leave it here!"

The witch is disappointed, but at least now she has the sauce.

To catch Nadia she designs a new plan: since Nadia regularly goes to the market of Mouffetard street to buy food for her family, she will disguise herself as one of the market' merchants to capture her. But again the witch has no real luck. The first time she becomes a butcher-woman, only for Nadia to come to buy chicken. The next market day she turns herself in a chicken-seller... but Nadia is here to buy meat from the butcher. So the third market day the witch decides to disguise herself as a merchant of both white and red meat... Only for Nadia to buy fish.

Deeply angry at the situation, the witch then decides to use her magic to become ALL OF THE MERCHANTS OF THE MOUFFETARD MARKET! And so she turns into all of them (267 in total). When Nadia goes to buy vegetables the next market day, the witch seizes her by the arm, and locks her within her cash drawer.

Hopefully, Nadia had a brave little brother named Bachir who, upon seeing his sister not coming home from the market, understood the witch had captured her. He took his guitar, disguised himself as a blind musician, and went to the market. There he started singing a song to "earn a few coins", despite the 267 merchant-witches not liking this very much and trying to dissuade him from doing so: the song was "Nadia, where are you?" (basically just him asking "Nadia, where are you, answer me, I don't see you, I need to hear you"). Nadia screams for help from the cash-drawer, only for the witch to realize it isn't a blind musician who is singing... They try to capture him, but Bachir knocks out cold one of the merchants with his guitar, which makes all the other market-vendors drop (since they are all one and the same, the witch).

Bachir goes to the vegetable vendor's cash-drawer and tries to open it, but he is not strong enough. While he is attempting to free his sister, the witch(es) wakes up, but doesn't stand up and keeps her eyes half-closed. Slowly, slowly, the 267 fake vendors creep on the ground, sliding closer and closer to Bachir in complete silence...

Hopefully, a strong sailor happens to pass by. Bachir asks him for help, to get the drawer unstuck and free his sister. The sailor is not sure: "What would I gain out of this?". Bachir simply answers: "When the drawer is unstuck, I'll take my sister, you'll take the money." The sailor is "Deal!" and promptly uses his strength to try to open the drawer - right as the witch pounces on Bachir.

In the confusion, the VERY heavy cash-drawer drops onto the skull of the witch, which cracks open with her brain spilling everywhere (it wouldn't be a good fairytale without some gore). And this also happens to her 266 copies across the market. Under the shock the drawer gets unstuck and Nadia is set free.

And it is an happy ending, as the children return home alive... and the sailors picks up all the money he can get. Gripari adds the quite gruesome detail that the sailor picks up the coins right out of the witch's blood.

The end.

[belades]

Okay so for a while now I've had an absolute Galaxy brained theory about Iono from Pokemon SV.

Namely, the theory is that she's straight up actually not human but is a Rotom.  As ridiculous as this theory is, I figured I may as well record all the reasons that led me to come to that conclusion, initially as a joke.  I don’t necessarily think it’s TRUE, but think all the details are worth compiling and sharing, so humor me.  If the pace of this seems weird, it’s cuz I’m adapting it from a twitter thread I just made.  Anyways, heads up, this post will contain spoilers for major game plot point.  I won’t spoil things directly but there’s allusions to really important stuff.  Anyways, as ridiculous as this sounds, I actually find it pretty interesting, so hear me out.

So for starters, first and foremost: her mouth.  She has the same mouth as Rotom, just like any mechanical object Rotom inhabits.  What she DOESN'T have is Rotom's eye color, but Rotom's eye color specifically changes based on what it's inhabiting, it is only blue in base form and the phones.  There's more to it though.   Second most obvious is her personality.  She's a mischievous little shit and it is frankly the best thing about her.  As simple as this is, it also completely describes how Rotom act.  Third simplest is that wild Rotom live nearby, even if they’re rare enough people are startled at the idea of seeing one outside a Rotomphone.  

Initially though, this just made me think it was EXTREMELY weird she didn't have a Rotom on her team.  This woman kind of looks like a rotom, notably has a personality like one, and lives near them, it feels like a glaring omission.  This caused me to jokingly hypothesize "Oh, she's a Rotom that is inhabiting an android body or an electronic doll, which is why she doesn't have a Rotom on her team".  Of course it was a joke, this is all pretty circumstantial evidence.  While it still is absolutely a goofy “what if” even now, it started to become a bit less of a joke as I thought about it.

The next bit's circumstantial but starts to add up with the other stuff.  Every gym leader in Paldea has an off type Pokemon that they Terastralize to be on type.  For all of them there's logic to it, even if strange.  Teddyursa like Honey -> bug (and it’s used by a pastry chef, thus would have honey).  Sushi chef sends out crab, sudowoodo goes from fake grass type to real grass type and the trainer considers it a form of performance art, Staraptor loses flying weaknesses, which goes into Larry’s side job, the musician has a guitarist, the cosmetic and perfume woman has a flowery fairy, the guy in the alps has a cloud bird who becomes protected from a 4x weakness.  All of them make sense and are on theme for the trainer’s brand, occupation, or the pokemon’s competitiveness.   Except for Iono's Mismagius.   So Iono for some reason has a ghost type that has nothing to do with electric type or her occupation.  Humorously enough, this makes Electricity Iono's primary type, and Ghost her secondary.  I can't think of any other reason for a mismagius other than perhaps, once again, “She’s a little shit” which is.... a lot more vague than all the rest.  

This is where things start to go from design and personality quirks to being actively strange.

If you talk to people around the city, some of them will comment on something weird they noticed about Iono when they think about it: she doesn't age.  They say she's been streaming for years (How many is unclear, but from the dialogue, presumably at least five to ten) and still looks the same, and they have no idea how old she is because of it.   Add to this the weird glitchy looking twitches she does both in and out of battle whenever she's startled (it is very much blink and you’ll miss it in battle), which I initially thought was simply a bad animation, and let’s be very real, it might be, this game was way overcrunched.

Anyways,  all this was stuff I noticed as I was playing through the main storyline and it felt increasingly weird and consistent, despite the implausibility of it all.  In fact, the implausibility of it all was the main thing bugging me and making me keep dismissing it as just a fun what-if.  Pokemon world technology is advanced, sure, but not advanced enough to make a totally visually convincing lifelike animatronic or android.

And then uhhhhh.... And then I beat the game.

As I said, I’m going to limit spoilers, but the whole "Technology isn’t advanced enough to make an android body humanlike enough to fool people into thinking it is one" is uhhh, no longer the case.  Albeit there are caveats to that.  Anyhow, what led me to decide to actually compile everything an actually post it was that a few minutes ago, I noticed something explicit enough that it ACTUALLY STARTLED ME, even though I've known about it this whole time but never put much thought into. 

Iono’s outfit.

(wait I just noticed putting this together that she also has Rotom’s horizontally split pupils, shit).  Anyways, back to her outfit.  Without straying TOO far into spoiler territory, her outfit is interesting because of her inner outfit.  It is very specifically a lattice of iridescent Hexagons.  And now I’m starting to think again about how her outfit appears to be a modified straightjacket, complete with belts to restrain someone. 

I don't expect us to ever get official confirmation on this, but wanted to share it.  

Also, because I sure as heck didn’t consider why it might be significant for a while, if you need a clue as to why her outfit being comprised of a lattice of iridescent hexagons is important, then without getting too much into endgame plot details, I’ll leave you with “what are they that would make this important” as opposed to the “Why is this important”

[jokeroutsubs]

ENG SUB translation: JOKER OUT: The audience knows we’re a real thing, not just a three-minute performance.

Original article from Serbian website Zoomer.rs.

Translation by @moonlvster

JOKER OUT: The audience knows we’re a real thing, not just a three-minute performance.

Before the frontman of the Slovenian band Joker Out knelt in front of a Serbian audience last Friday and on their request sang “Đurđevdan”, the popular band that gained international recognition at this year’s Eurovision received a Golden Record for the single ‘Carpe Diem’. On this occasion, Zoomer spoke with Jan Peteh and vocalist Bojan Cvjetićanin, whom the Serbian audience especially like because of his background. Bojan and Jan told us that they look at their Eurovision success from a distance, reveal details of their tour, as well as when the awaited third album is coming out.

Which city has been the most memorable one on the tour so far? Where would you like to perform and haven’t had the chance this time?

We liked it the most in Ireland, England, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Serbia, Croatia and Slovenia. This year we’ll miss a few countries we’d like to go to, which are Italy, Spain, Portugal, Morocco, there’s plenty. I think next year we’ll perform in some of the countries we missed this year. Nothing is confirmed, but the team has hinted at us about the possibility of going to Australia, America and Japan next year. We want to return to many countries, especially ones in the region. It’s really intimate, homely, the audience is warm, they greeted us better than we could’ve expected. Just love.

That means next year is reserved for a tour too, can we expect some new music or will you be busy with gigs?

The first half of 2024 we’re going to live in London, where we’re going to create and record the new album. In March and April we’re having a month-long tour, then summer festivals and at the end of the year another headlining tour. So a new album is coming out next autumn. We hope. (laughter)

Is it true that the new album will be in multiple languages?

It is. It’s going to be in at least three languages, which are, of course, Slovenian, Serbian and English, and it’s possible we’ll throw in more.

The unexpected boom after Eurovision has, on the one hand, given you a stepping stone, and on the other hand perhaps forced a prefix that isn’t always appreciated in the music world. What do you think of that?

I would absolutely say that it was a stepping stone for us. I believe that our result shows we’re not just Eurovision participants, but we have proven to the public that there is some sort of story and a longer period in which we have been creating and that this is a real thing, not just a three minute performance. The fact that we are coming to Europe, that people are buying tickets to our shows and singing our songs for an hour and a half, is enough of an indicator of Eurovision was a catapult for us as you could wish for, and that we have passed that moment of a few minutes.

Do you maintain friendships made at Eurovision?

We hang out a lot, yes. With Käärijä, Luke Black and many more, Monika from Lithuania, Let 3, we keep in touch with the guys from San Marino, we even performed with Wild Youth on our UK tour.

Where do you like to spend time in Belgrade?

Jan has only been here for performances, but I spend the most time around Cetinjska Street, I’ll say Marsh. (laughter)

What do you think about socially engaged music, are there any topics you particularly care about?

As a band we agreed not to take a political stand. We’re a group of musicians and we always speak out if a violation of human rights is in question, but for other political matters we’re not the right people to ask. We don’t think it’s fair for us to influence people because we have opinions. Just because we’re famous and have some kind of influence, we don’t have to be objectively right. In terms of social topics, we already sing about them in our songs. Our job is to bring people together into one space and to create a feeling of closeness, love and unity in them.

[rivetgoth]

Tbh I think one aspect of goth club environments that I find a bit frustrating, though generally keep to myself/my close circles who know I'm not coming at this from some massively judgmental angle but more passive observation and ultimately minor grievance, is that I think there's two pretty distinct camps in most of them where Camp 1 is "people who love goth [or otherwise dark alternative] music who want to hear it played loudly and dance while socializing with other individuals who love this music as much as them," and Camp 2 is "people who are weirdos and freaks [affectionate] who wanted to find a place where they could express themselves comfortably and safely and meet other weirdos and freaks." And these aren't completely separate spheres, but the two circles of this Venn diagram are not nearly as overlapping as you would think.

I consider myself first and foremost Camp 1 as the one and only reason I became goth and began participating in this community was the love of the music, the music has kept me alive and shaped me into the person I am today, the reason I go out to these events is for the music, and every close friend I've made in this scene has been through the love of the music, but I don't have any negative feelings towards Camp 2 and I relate to them in many ways as well. I think goth clubs are fantastic accepting spaces for queer people, kinky and sex posi people, autistic and other neurodivergent people, and people who otherwise just do not fit into the norm, whether it be due to something outside of their control or just having Weird Person Interests that have gotten them kinda stigmatized by wider society. I totally found solace in the goth scene due to being a lot of those things myself. But I still connect first and foremost with the people who love the music. That is THE THING that has kept me going. While when it comes to the exclusively Camp 2 people, a loooot of them kind of come out to these spaces specifically to be amongst other likeminded individuals and feel accepted for their weirdness, and the music is practically, just, like, incidental lol. Ironically they don't necessarily realize how much of the reason that these spaces ARE historically safe for them is due to what the music itself, the musicians making it, and the fans of the music have stood for.

The thing is I don't really think anything needs to be "done about this" or whatever, I hesitate to call it a problem at all, firstly I think that the dark alternative scene SHOULD be a safe space for individuals who exist outside of the norm and I don't think they should need to pass some sort of knowledge test in order to gain entry to these spaces, second of all I think many of them over time do come to love the music, even just by being around it enough to develop positive association, and third I think that supporting these spaces with physical bodies, generating financial revenue, etc is the best way of keeping them alive so ultimately it doesn't really matter how much or how little they know if they're showing up and materially supporting the scene. But I do think it's like... person to person, a little sad, I guess, that the dark alternative scene is so muddled with just the general broad category of humans that is "people who are weird and don't fit the norm" that it's kinda difficult to find people who are there because they love the music and a lot of the people who I get excited to connect with because they're openly trans or something reveal quite quickly they don't really listen to any of the bands I'm there to hear, they just heard from a friend who heard from a friend that you can meet other cool queer people and be GNC safely there. And that's great! It really is. But I do wish that the people who were going to these spaces without knowing much about the music would spend some time exploring it. I think they'd probably find a lot to love about it honestly.

[butterflyintochains]

The Starset Primer

Hey, all, just a friendly Messenger of four years popping in to tell you about my favourite band.

Starter Songs

Typically, Starset songs can be broken up into categories to get you started.

Lead Singles:

My Demons Monster Manifest The Breach Brave New World

Love Ballads:

Halo Starlight Satellite Solstice Otherworldly.

Heavy Songs:

Down With The Fallen Carnivore Frequency Into The Unknown Gravity of You Bringing It Down Telekinetic Other Worlds Than These Devolution Something Wicked Brave New World

Tele-Songs:

Telescope Telepathic Telekinetic Tunnelvision

Album Outros:

Rise and Fall Everglow Diving Bell Something Wicked.

My Personal Go-To List would be:

My Demons (the first ever Starset song!) Carnivore Halo Monster Ricochet Unbecoming Manifest Where The Skies End Diving Bell Leaving This World Behind Earthrise Infected Brave New World (the newest song!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✨The Albums✨

Transmissions (2014)

Their first album, technically made when it was just Dustin!

Singles: My Demons, Carnivore, Halo, Let It Die

A really solid debut album in general.

Their most iconic album to date, everyone likes this one.

A bit experimental, a proof of concept.

Vessels (2017)

The second album, and arguably their best.

Singles: Monster, Ricochet, Satellite, Telepathic

The most epic of the four so far, and the fan favourite.

Really long too! Over an hour of amazing songs!

Something for everyone on this album.

Divisions (2019)

Their third album, and last pre-covid.

Singles: Manifest, Where The Skies End, Echo, Diving Bell

A more industrial sound with a lot more traditional rock.

A bit polarising, some love it, some don't.

Really raw lyrics, if you're into that.

Horizons (2021)

Their fourth, and most recent, album.

Singles: The Breach, Infected, Leaving This World Behind, Earthrise, Devolution

Sounds like a movie soundtrack.

Another polarising album, but is a really consistent one.

Goes hard into emotional lyrics, and keeps you on your toes.

S5 (2024?)

The fifth, upcoming album, doesn't have a name or official cover yet.

Single: Brave New World

Sounds like it's gonna be super heavy, so we're all very excited!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Band Members

Starset are currently a seven piece band, apparently this is how it was always meant to be, so the lineup is permanent now, and will be for the foreseeable future! Each of the band members use a number, no one knows what the numbers mean yet, though.

The current lineup is:

Dustin Bates - Lead Vocals, Band Leader/Founder, and main songwriter. Ron DeChant - Bassist, Backing Vocals, Keyboards Brock Richards - Guitarist, Backing Vocals Adam Gilbert - Drummer Siobhan Cronin-Richards - Violinist, Keyboards Zuzana Engererova - Cellist Cory Juba - Keyboards, Synths, Backing Guitars

Dustin Bates - 3301

The leader, founder, and mastermind behind the band.

Main vocalist, and writes literally all of their songs.

Has a really cute French Bulldog called Ernie, who is kinda the band's mascot.

Has a Masters in Electrical Engineering, and almost had a PHD in Avionics, but gave up on it to focus on music. Scary smart, has written both of the band's lore books himself, and engineers their stage setup.

Has the most relaxing speaking voice ever, and 90% of fans are at least a little bit in love with him.

The only one who really does interviews.

He's just a really cool guy, and really seems to love his fans.

Ron DeChant - 5501

The bassist, and easily the second-in-command to Dustin, they were bandmates in Dustin's last band.

Lowkey manages the band, he books tours for them and helps handle logistics.

Was in the military before he became a musician.

Was the first person Dustin went to when he formed the band, so they're kind of the original two members.

Had to get the entire band and crew back to the USA from Russia as Covid hit.

Had to sit the European Horizons tour out due to shoulder surgery, but is back now!

Currently owns the whiteboard the band's lore was written on!

Brock Richards - 5502

One quarter of the core four of the band, plays guitar and is a backup singer to Dustin sometimes.

One half of the Starset Power Couple - he and Siobhan are married.

Seems like a really chilled out guy, but has apparently throttled someone to protect Siobhan once during the Vessels era.

A big gamer!

Has a really good knowledge of production, and a sick af guitar collection.

He, Dustin, and Ron are always front of the stage, Brock usually is at Dustin's left.

Has worked on music with Siobhan's other band - Lost Symphony.

Adam Gilbert - 5503

The final of the core four of the band who were there for the first album and tour.

Runs a drumming course called Drumabuse.

Also is an art major, who sells his works on the side.

Often stays longest talking to fans at VIP shows.

Dyes his hair a different colour for each album cycle apparently.

Has probably the biggest social media presence of the band, the rest being chronically offline.

Has gotten into controversy for his political views in the past, but let's hope he's more open-minded now.

Siobhan Cronin-Richards - 7701

The violin queen herself, Siobhan has been with the band as a permanent member since 2017, first performing with them during the Vessels era.

One of two members of the band with formal training in their instrument, Zuzana being the other one.

The other half of the Starset Power Couple with Brock.

From Michigan, but based out of Ohio and Florida.

Besties with Zuzana.

Has another band called Lost Symphony, kind of a classical/metal hybrid genre.

Hosts a podcast with the other members of Lost Symphony, which has become the Unofficial Starset Podcast.

Zuzana Engererova - 7702

The cello queen of the band, joined as a permanent member in the 2019 Divisions era, replacing Mariko Muranaka, and has been with the band ever since.

Is the only European member of the band, being Slovakian.

Has often talked about how difficult it is for her to play cello standing up, saying her back and shoulder hurt after tours are done.

Besties with Siobhan.

Based in Vegas, and plays cello at events there in the offseason.

Is also a frequent collab with Lost Symphony, I think she's a fourth member now, but I'm not sure.

Second most frequent band member on Siobhan's podcast, Brock being most frequent.

Cory Juba - 7703

The newest member of the band, completing the vision Dustin had back in 2013, joining for the 2022 Horizons tour.

Another could-have-been doctor in the band. Cory was apparently studying a medical degree before getting into music.

Has known Dustin for a really long time, and has helped with various projects of his.

Got the call to join the band while hiking in British Columbia.

Seems like a really nice guy overall, and goes crazy on stage.

Accidentally spilled water on the show laptop once, causing a lot of panic.

Helped out with synths and keys on the Starset rendition of Waiting on The Sky To Change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Lore

While most bands might have a concept album, Starset are a concept band, the entire band are built around a central story. You don't need to know the lore to be a fan of the band, but it helps.

Dustin has put out two books dealing with the lore. The Prox Transmissions in 2014, and A Brief History of The Future in 2024.

From what I understand, here's how it goes:

While working on his electricity experiments, Nikola Tesla accidentally receives a message from the 2040s from a far off planet called Prox. He ignores it. A few decades later, Stephen Browning receives the same signal, and enlists Aston Wise to help him interpret it.

The signal warns of an oncoming takeover by someone called The Architect, who is in charge of something either called The Architecture or The Everything Machine. The runaway technology creating something called The Brain-Machine Interface (BMI, kinda like Neuralink). Necessitating leaving Earth for another planet.

Browning founds the Order of Teslonia, aiming to keep the signal secret and work behind the scenes to ensure this future doesn't happen. Wise, however, seeks to make the information public. Forming the rival Starset Society, which leads to the band itself forming.

It's later revealed that along the way, Wise becomes The Architect, and leads said takeover, losing all control of the Starset Society in the process. Forming the New East, New West, and making the BMI mandatory for citizens. A rebellion forms to counter this takeover, while Browning's group are working to get everyone off world to Prox.

We don't quite know the ins and outs of everything yet, but this is the lore as far as I understand it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some Other Things To Know

Starset don't have concerts, they have Demonstrations.

Starset fans are called Messengers.

The band's three unofficial mottoes are: 'Spread The Message', 'Ignorance is Slavery, Knowledge is Freedom', and 'Fuck The New East'

The band have been fairly family friendly with lyrical content, until Brave New World came out, and Dustin said 'fucking' three times.

There's a song for everyone, you will find something you like.

We're a super welcoming community!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, yeah, that's about it!

Over and out!

I:S::K:F!

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

On the third day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A One-Bed fic with whiny sub!Jake, and it's a Neighbor's AU, too!

Christmas Song Pairing: “Christmas Eve" by Justin Bieber

Trope: One Bed

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, F. Dom, M. Sub, pet names, a tiny bit of restraint, a single tear, begging, oral sex (f. receiving)

Words: 4.4k

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind words and generous reblogs, tags, and comments, they mean the world to me! They're also addictive, just so you know ;) Anyways, this one got away from me a bit, so I've decided that each boy will have one longer smut piece and the others will be short and under my self-imposed word limit. Except for Danny. My love gets all the long smut.

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

“Mom, I frew up.”

You almost slammed the door on Jake’s face when he tiredly looked at you with his mournful, moony eyes, but the fact that his own joke only made his lips twitch told you that he actually had a reason to be at your apartment door at 1:45 am. 

The twins were good neighbors. Relatively, at least. You could sometimes hear them arguing through the wall, and other times, you had to send them a text to get them to stop playing their instruments into the wee hours of the morning. Your little duplex townhouse walls weren’t all that thick, but other than the occasional noise complaint that they always dutifully listened to, you were glad to have the happy-go-lucky musicians next door. With how many game nights you’d had and beers you’d shared, you’d even go as far to say that you were friends.

So, you sighed and leaned against the frame, looking at the man expectantly. “What do you need, Jake? This beauty needs her sleep.”

Jake nodded back to his own place, making a face that was both pitiful and disgusted at the same time, which was quickly explained when he said, “Josh brought someone home, and usually some headphones will fix it, but…oh god, please don’t make me describe my trauma.” 

He shivered in the cold December air, and that’s when you realized that he didn’t have shoes on and the only clothes protecting him from the wind were his threadbare sleep shirt and equally frayed plaid pajama pants. All in all, he looked like a little puppy, trembling from the cold and without a place to sleep for the night.

You were no monster; there had been enough nights in your life as a roommate where you wish you didn’t have ears at all that you recognized and acknowledged his pain, but the thing was, you weren’t sure what he wanted you to do about it.

“I won’t. But I..sorry, I’m just not sure what this has to do with me.”

Trying to make it as gentle as possible so that you didn’t put him off, there was really no roundabout way to go about the question. Especially not when its answer would get you both out of the cold.

Jake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Oh. Sorry, I just thought, you know, maybe I could use your guest room? I mean, if you’re comfortable with that,” he said quickly. “We’ve been neighbors for a couple years now, but I don’t want to assume anything. I would rather ask and get rejected though, than try than have to deal with that,” he said venomously, looking back at his place with that same pronounced frown on his face.

You appreciated his attempts to make it your decision but, again, there was just one problem. “I don’t have a guest room,” you explained, grimacing as his face fell. The situation must have been dire if he was that downtrodden after finding out that your second bedroom was an office since…well, since it was just you living there. “But…my couch does double as a futon. It’s not super comfortable, but if you wanted to crash there, I guess, feel free.”

Pure relief spread across his features, and you opened the door wider to allow him in, cursing yourself for not just bringing him in at the beginning and saving you both some body heat. “Anything,” he muttered, quite seriously.  “Literally anything else but what I was dealing with over there. She sounded like a fucking banshee giving birth. And there’s no way my hobbit brother is that good with his dick.”

You snorted, retrieving some sheets from a bin in your hallway closet. “Your hobbit brother… that’s also your twin? That one?” Jake bobbled his head, but didn’t say anything as he began to tug at the back of the couch to free the bed. “Also, it doesn’t have to be his dick,” you pointed out, but Jake shook his head violently at your revelation.

“No. No, no, nope, no thank you I am finished thinking about that twerp in any way, shape, or form for the night.” His words were less convincing when they shook like a dog’s growl as it played tug o’ war. He seemed to be losing the fight with the couch, and you stood there, shamelessly admiring his form in half-amusement and half-serious appreciation.

He had a backside that was better than yours, and after all the years of being ogled at by men as you went about your daily tasks, you figured the universe could look away this one time.

“Oh shit!” he yelped, falling back on that perfect ass as the couch came half-loose with a pop, a grind, and then the tinkle of tiny, flimsy metal screws hitting your floor.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, staring at your mutilated couch that was now propped up on one end and slanted in a way you were certain it wasn’t supposed to slant. And didn’t seem all too eager to go either back down or all the way out, no matter how much you half-heartedly pushed at it.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Jake said defeatedly after a moment. The apology was clear in his voice, and you knew this was bound to happen sooner or later; the couch was, after all, a remnant from your college days. Even then, it had been a curbside find that you and your roommate had tied to the roof of your car with borrowed bungee cords. “I’ll buy you a new couch.”

While you wouldn’t decline the help, it obviously wasn’t his fault entirely, so you shrugged and returned the blankets to their place in the closet. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. Contribute a fourth of the cost to a discount couch from Facebook Marketplace and I’ll let you off the hook, destructo,” you joked, turning around to face him again. Now that the couch option was gone, Jake was clearly unsure of where he stood, staying at your place.

“Your bed doesn’t happen to be a bunk bed, right?” he asked dryly, knowing that it wasn’t from the very few times he’d seen it. It got a small chuckle out of you as you thought about your options, considering a few different solutions when Jake sped the process up. “Well, sorry to bother you, Y/N. Thanks for letting me almost-crash here. I’m gonna…go bash my brains out.”

It was obvious he wasn’t fishing for anything else – he was genuinely expecting to go back to his flat of sin without another thought to finding a different solution, but you quickly took the few steps to get to him before he took off and met his questioning gaze. “Wait, Jake. Just…it’s late. Stay here, we can share the bed.”

Neighbor friends could totally innocently share a bed. Call it the proverbial cup of sugar. 

His eyes grew saucer-wide, and he jerked his head back slightly at the suggestion as if you’d just proposed he buy a leather flogger and build a dungeon. “Are you sure?”

You looked at him, completely deadpanned. The late hour was getting to you, and you just wanted to make it to bed before the sun came up again. “No, I was pulling your chain.” Jake smiled sheepishly as you continued, “Yes, dumbass, I’m sure. I offered, after all. And in the name of complete platonic-ness, either join me in bed or sleep in the street. Up to you.”

He obviously chose to follow you into your bedroom, and since both of you were already in your pjs, you slipped under the blankets as if it was the most natural thing ever. “Thank you again, Y/N,” Jake whispered, once you’d flicked the lamp off. 

“I’d say any time, Jake, but if you wake me up at this god-forbidden hour again because your brother is having sex, I’ll move.”

You heard his huff of laughter at your empty threat and you smiled, too, already starting to drift into that hazy state between sleep and consciousness. The fan and low brown noise you had playing from phone was enough to drown out the strangeness of someone else in the room with you – the extra intakes and exhales of breath, the scratch of blankets, the dip of the mattress – and you would have been totally content to fall asleep then.

If it weren’t for Jake’s incessant moving. 

The first time he shifted, it was fine – didn’t even register. But then he rolled over again. And again. And again.

“Jake,” you groaned, flopping your hand behind you without a care for where it landed. “Stop fucking moving.”

“Sorry,” he responded softly, voice a little higher than normal.

That would have been that, but then it wasn’t rolling over, but he was obviously still moving, and you could feel it. You might have had a Queen-sized mattress, but that didn’t mean you weren’t unconsciously hyper-aware of someone else in your bed when you were used to sleeping alone.

“Oh my god, Jake,” you exclaimed exasperatedly, turning your lamp on and abruptly rolling over to see just what the problem was. “What is wrong? Are you sleeping on a pea or something, princess?”

In the dim light from the wax melter candle plugged into your wall, Jake stiffened, and he didn’t answer.

Thinking your words came out too harshly, you sighed. “Sorry. I’m not mad, I’m just trying to sleep. Seriously, though, what’s wrong? Do you need to cuddle to get to dreamland or something?” you joked lightly in an attempt to clear the air.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Jake’s answer was so soft, you nearly didn’t hear him. But once his words registered, you furrowed your brow, confused and a little offended that he couldn’t even crack a joke back, because now you felt a little embarrassed of your joking suggestion. “Okay. Because one of us is a ticking time bomb or something? I wasn’t being serious, Jake.”

The offense must have shown through your thinly-veiled attempt to hide it, because Jake was silent for a second, and then croaked out, “I wouldn’t want you to hate me.”

Now laying down again, facing away, your confusion outgrew your offense, and once again, you rolled over, seeing that Jake had remained stiff as a board with his back to you. “Why would I hate you?” you asked genuinely, less edge to your voice.

But Jake didn’t answer. Didn’t have to, because when he shifted again, the movement originating from his hips and obviously something Jake was trying to suppress. You finally took in the way he was scrunched up, knees pulled to his chest and arms tucked where you couldn’t see them. You recognized that position, from one past boyfriend that always seemed to get an erection at the worst possible times.

“Are you…” you let the sentence trail off, and Jake sighed out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a creep, I promise,” he said with conviction, if a little shakily. Out of nerves, arousal, or fear, you didn’t know, but you felt bad for him all the same.

Sometimes it happened – you knew that. It was basic anatomy. It was also basic anatomy to understand why the blankets started feeling a little warmer, and why you began to get the same impulse to shift your hips as Jake seemingly had. There was a very attractive man in your bed, hard and a little vulnerable because of it, that you admittedly had experienced fleeting thoughts of desire for.

“Jake,” you said softly, breaking the tense silence. “I don’t think you’re a creep. And I also don’t want you to think I’m a creep.”

Jake peeked over his shoulder at you, straining his neck to catch a glimpse. “What? Why would I? I’m the one who got in your bed and– and fucking immediately got an erection.”

“Mmmhh,” you hummed, acknowledging the truth of his statement. “But I’m the one who’s having filthy thoughts about it.” When you heard his swallow harshly, you delivered the final blow. “And I’m the one about to offer to help you take care of it. If you want, of course,” you assured lowly. “If not, you can use the bathroom and we’ll never speak of it again.”

You waited on bated breath for Jake’s response, and he finally responded, his voice breaking in the middle of the word, “Please.”

Excitement lit up your extremities, and you tingled with a newly-found energy as you rubbed your thighs together, your body’s natural response now magnified tenfold with the promise of action. “Thank you Jesus,” you breathed, waiting for Jake to turn around. “Come on, Jake. Show me what we’ve got.”

He hadn’t so much as touched his shoulder blade to the mattress when you pushed the covers off, licking your lips at the tent in his pants. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” Jake asked, watching you watch him with a predatory gleam in your eye. “Because I’m pretty sure this has happened before, but I woke up with a mess to clean in the end. It wasn’t fun.”

You chuckled and gently put your hand to his cheek. “I dunno. Does this feel real to you?” You planted your hands on his chest and swung your leg over his hip. Once you settled your weight over his cock, a broken noise escaped his lips, and his hands came up to rest shakily on your thighs, flexing up into the friction. “Feels pretty real to me.”

“Pretty damn real,” he repeated, gulping down air and squeezing his eyes shut.

Shifting your hips so as not to torture the poor man, you watched him accept your gifts, and eventually his face relaxed as he let you work. “Good. I have to ask, though: what got you so worked up in the first place?”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to peel your shirt off, not when you wanted an answer. But the unwavering attention that Jake payed the slight sway of your breasts, moving with the little shifts of your body, was a suitable second prize. You upped the stakes again, though, splaying your hands out under his shirt and working it off, as well. The growing wetness between your legs was already beginning to demand more, and you didn’t intend to keep either of you waiting for long.

So instead of insisting on an answer, you got off and relished in the small whine that came from the man who blinked sluggishly at the loss of your weight and heat against him. But when you unceremoniously stripped your pants off and then smacked his hands away from his own drawstrings, you said, “No. My house, my rules, Jake. And the rule here is that I get to unwrap all the gifts you’ve brought me tonight. Such a good guest,” you cooed, dragging his plaid pants down until his cock sprung back up, bobbing with a shiny tip that was begging to be sucked.

Not one to keep yourself from what you wanted, you bent down and thumbed across the skin of his hip at the taste of salty precum, spreading across your tongue as you swiped and swirled it around his head, pulling off with a pop as soon as he gasped and bucked his hips up. “Please don’t stop,” he asked, so polite even worked up as he was.

“But you never answered my question,” you laughed with a shake of your head, mounting him again and spreading your cunt so that you could rub your clit along the length of his cock for your own relief. He moaned quietly and took what you gave him, no attempts to change the pace, the pressure, the movement – nothing. “You’ve been so good for me otherwise, Jakey. Answer me, and then I’ll get you all suited up so that I can fuck you. Get you the good relief you deserve.” He struggled to keep his volume down, but you saw the way his lips trembled. “What got you so worked up?”

He was apparently more desperate than he let on, though, because when he was able to find his voice, it was a weak little whimper that sent another wave of arousal through you; so much that it made your head spin with want. “The sheets,” he whined, fisting them in his palms. “They…they smell like you. And when you— you…” 

With your grinding becoming nearly too slippery to continue, you knew you had to fuck him soon before he came from this alone. “When I what?” you asked, climbing off of him to retrieve a condom.

You wiped him off for safety and then made sure the latex was securely on before you poised him at your entrance, waiting for his final answer.

Jake watched your with hooded, hazy eyes, desperation written out on his features. “I liked it when you called me princess,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled victoriously, sinking down on him until his balls were pressed against your ass in one go, and you felt him twitch inside of you. “That’s so sexy, princess,” you admitted. “Thank you for telling me.” Your eyes closed as you stretched yourself out on his cock, beginning to bounce on him. The resulting audio was almost better than the visual. You wouldn’t have pegged Jake as one to beg in bed, but he had been brushing off all the subconscious labels you’d attached to him since arriving.

“Holy shit,Y/N, oh god, your pussy is–” he cut himself off with a grunt as you slid your hands up his arms to his wrists to pin his hands to bed, watching as he immediately clutched at the pillows above where they lay, immovable with your weight resting on them. “Hold me down,” he cried out. “I– ah-h– please, please, please, fuck me harder,” he whined, shifting his hips up as you came down, the explicit sounds of skin meeting skin slapping out into the silence. 

“Yeah?” you panted, loving the way you had front-row seats to every face his features morphed into as you experimented with him – taking notes of what made him tick. “You like it when you can’t move, princess? When you can only lay there and take it?”

He nodded, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you lurched forward on your thrust down, taking him for the ride of his life. “I’ll take anything you give me, beautiful,” he breathed, straining against your hold as he got closer to finishing. “I don’t mind it a little rough.”

“Good to know.” You leaned down and let your hips slowly grind in circles as you pinched the skin where his neck met his shoulder between your lips, nipping it before saying, “Keep your hands there, and don’t make me tell you twice.”

Jake agreed willingly. “Anything.”

Your nails scraped lightly down the undersides of his arms to his chest, where you dug them in to make little crescent marks and continued your quest to make him cum harder than he ever had before. “Fuck,” you moaned on an exhale, trying to find your own g-spot with Jake’s dick. “You’re so good for me. Who knew that Jake Kiszka, rockstar extraordinaire, was such a whiny little princess in bed?” you chuckled, looking down at his red face, his shiny, open lips, his hooded eyes, looking at you like you hung the moon. Just to drive the point home, you combed your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp until you reached the back, where you tightened your grip to make Jake shout and arch back, exposing his throat to you. “That’s it,” you cooed. “Let go for me. Give it up. Cum inside me.”

He was obviously holding himself back, and he told you why when he panted out, “What about you? I wanna– I– please, please don’t make me cum yet,” he begged, squirming underneath you but still not letting his hands dip below where you’d put them and told him to stay. “I want to feel you cum with me! I don’t want to cum yet, I don’t want to be a bad fuck– I always make them cum,” he claimed, still thrashing, trying to get way from the steady pleasure tightening his balls and making him leak, getting him harder and harder and harder. “I can make you feel so good, Y/N, just let me– let me– shit, FUCK no no no no noooo—” he moaned, long and low and pitiful. 

His pleasure manifested throughout his entire body and he lost control for a second, jerking and spasming as he filled the condom to the brim. His teeth were bared as he drew breaths in to fuel the sobs and grunts that came out, his arms moved listlessly against the sheets in a sacreligious snow angel, and you could feel his legs twisting and bucking as you continued to ride him into oblivion. 

You finally slowed once a single tear fell from his eye. Wiping it away, you sucked the pad of your thumb into your mouth, watching his chest and stomach heave with a deep-seated satisfaction running through your veins. Still buzzing with excitement and arousal, you finally leaned down to kiss him, grinning as he kissed back desperately, vying for your every touch, word, and request and pliable with the desire to please you.

“So needy, Jake – crying because I wouldn’t let you help me cum. But don’t worry, princess,” you murmured, smoothing his hair back away from his fucked-out face. “I still intend to collect my pleasure. And these perfect little Cupid’s bow lips are going to get me there.”

He kissed your fingertips as you skated them across his mouth, whispering, “Thank you,” and then pushed himself up on his forearms, moving to crawl between your thighs. And as incredible as that would be to see, you stopped him with a palm in the center of his chest, pressing him down to the mattress once again. 

You shook your head. “Ah, ah. I quite like seeing you on your back for me,” you said, licking your lips. “You’re so pretty splayed out like this.”

Jake made a strangled noise and didn’t protest even for a second. “Works just fine for me, beautiful. Come here; let me show you how grateful I am for taking such good care of me tonight.”

He tugged at your hip and you went willingly, turning around so that you could see every shift, flex, and squirm of his body as you positioned yourself over him, hovering just above his face. You hummed. “Ready for me?” His response was to pull you down against him, and your clit throbbed as soon as it got friction again, making you sigh. “That’s it, princess, show me what that mouth can do. I want to feel how thankful you are that I let you into my bed,” you said breathlessly, starting to move and ride him again, this time higher up his body, but just as good. “That I was so understanding when you couldn’t control that cock of yours and that I used it so that you could get off.”

Even though you hadn’t established it (and you really should have), you lifted off of him when he tapped you, making sure he could breathe. But he didn’t take that time to take any deep breaths, only to say, “Don’t forget about the couch,” before licking into you again.

You smiled at his reminder, and reached back to grip his hair again. His whine traveled  throughout your pussy and made him sucking on your clit just that more enjoyable afterwards, sensitive from the vibration. He was quickly torn away from you as you bore down with more pressure, feeling your clit brush his bottom lip and then his tongue as he stuck it out for you to use for your pleasure. “You’re right. We can figure out a proper consequence later, though. You were begging to make me cum; I don’t think I should reward you for breaking my shit.”

With him manipulating that particular muscle, you quickly approached the peak you’d caught sight of while riding his dick, and you didn’t stop this time. You did, however, reach down to take his sensitive cock in your hand, roughly pumping it up and down until he cried out into your cunt, just to see him twist in overstimulated pleasure. 

“Come on, Jake, get me there, just a little bit more,” you directed, feeling your orgasm balloon inside of you. “Yes, Jake, yes, yes, yes– there you go-ooo, princess. Just what you wanted,” you keened, keeling over as you lost the strength to stay upright. You let Jake lap at you for a little while longer, shivering as he gently brought you down by avoiding your clit, but laving attention on the rest of your pussy. He cleaned you up like that, gathering all the excess slick on his tongue and swallowing it down. 

You were sure that he’d suck on you until you told him to stop, but eventually, you dismounted him, your stomach clenching as Jake made a small noise of complaint as his oral fixation was taken away. 

“Come here,” you sighed, opening your arms for him. You weren’t about to let him go to sleep without proper aftercare. It only took a small roll for Jake to plaster himself against you, legs tangling with yours, his fingers skirting across your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, and a sigh that puffed out warm against your throat as he relaxed into your embrace.

This time, when your fingers made their way to his long locks, you were gentle in petting him, softly massaging the back of his neck as your other hand rubbed comforting circles on his lower back. “I think I lied,” you said sleepily, and Jake made a questioning noise against your skin. “I think I want you to come here every time your brother has sex from now on. Okay?”

Jake placed a lazy kiss to your neck. “Is it okay if I don’t wait for Josh to sex? Who knows when the next time he gets lucky enough that someone looks down and sees him will be,” he giggled, fully aware that he was only a half-inch taller. 

You smiled, warmth spreading through your limbs. “Mmmm. Yeah, princess. You come over whenever you want to. I’ll keep the bed warm.” With one last kiss to his brow, you closed your eyes. 

Thank goodness for your shitty college couch.

~~~

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[kyuziipon]

wait I feel like I missed something what is the promise of the cherry blossoms im so curious

EHEHEHE I LOVE THIS QUESTION…

Ok so the promise of the cherry blossoms is my oc story about a highschool basketball club!! I named it that because cherry blossoms are a huge signifier of change and new beginnings, and I want a big part of the overall theme of the story to be that there’s always hope, there’s always room to grow, and you’re never stuck where you started, you can have a new beginning. I haven’t made any actual materials for the story (yet) mostly because I struggle with which format would be best to tell it in.

The story itself focuses on each member of the club, as well as the two managers and their coach. Every character has their own personal story, usually intertwining with some of the others in some way. The other main theme of the story is the idea that what you see on the surface isn’t always everything to a person, and there’s a lot more to them than meets the eye.

The characters:

Starting with the players on the team, we have the captain, Soga Umeno (his surname is subject to change cuz I don’t like how it flows). He’s in his third year, and cares very deeply about the other members of his team, but struggles with how at home he was practically forced to become a parent to his three much younger siblings.

After Soga, the vice captain is a third year named Seki Matsuda (aka Matsu). While Soga is very warm and caring, he is extremely cold and harsh. He believes putting 100% of your effort into everything you do is the best way to be, to the point of it being extremely detrimental to his well being. He is extremely sleep deprived, extremely exhausted, and extremely stuck in his own head. He’s very autistic and has ocd. He’s also (fallen out) childhood friends with the next character.

Onto the other two third years on the team, Kazuha Yumeno (aka Kazu) is the token pretty boy. He’s spectacularly gorgeous, but also spectacularly self centered and vain. Similar to Matsuda, he strives to be the best, but instead of in everything, it’s specifically in beauty. He has an eating disorder and hates himself so so much, and he sacrifices a lot of his life in the name of his beauty, which was a major factor in his and Matsu’s falling out.

For the final third year, we have Akihito Tsukimori. He was one of the first characters I made, when I still didn’t know what I wanted the story to be, and he’s not as fleshed out as the others. He’s a really laid back, cool type, who is a passionate musician who is stuck under his parents’ thumb and cannot pursue his dreams due to their desire for him to follow in family tradition and have some boring normal job, like a doctor or something (I never decided lol. He’s not my fave tbh). He plays trumpet.

For second year, let’s start with Yuta Ito. He was originally the main character before I got rid of the concept of a protagonist in this story. He’s a (mostly) pre transition trans guy who just transferred to this school and has always dreamed of being a professional basketball player, and goddammit he will stop at nothing to be allowed on the boys team and prove he’s just as good (if not better) than all of them. Spoiler, he is better than all of them, not for special reasons, everyone else just kind of sucks.

Next is Kiyohiko Suzuki (or, later in the story, Kiyoko). She was the second character I made and I LOVE her. Upon Yuta’s arrival in the club, she’s introduced to the idea she may not be as cis as she thought, and begins experimenting, only to discover she is in fact a girl. She really struggles with her family in this regard, but especially her relationship with her two older sisters, and the fact that her family favored her for being the “only son”. There’s a lot more to the sisters but that’s too much for this little blurb lol.

For the final second year (there’s supposed to be a fourth but I just… have never made him), we have Hideyoshi Akazuma (aka Hide). He’s pretty much a shoe-in to be the next captain, and he’s essentially perfect at everything he does. He and Yuta don’t get along, especially due to Yuta’s similarities to his twin brother. Hide is extremely pressured by his parents and teachers to uphold this perfect persona, and it puts a lot of tension between him and his peers, but more importantly, between him and his brother.

The first years are arguably my favorite, so let’s start with Daishi Edogawa, as he’s the easiest. Daishi is by far the tallest on the team, and is extremely awkward and nervous. He grew up raised by his mom and grandma, alongside his little sister, Tsuna. Due to this, he never really had any male role models in his life, and now is struggling with his relationship to being a man and his masculinity, and what all of it even means. He also has a crush on the following character, Madoka.

Madoka Kume is everything. He is my boy. I love him. He’s the second smallest of the cast, and matching to his appearance, he has a very strong childlike innocence (for the most part) and naïveté. He was raised by his older sister Utaha, after his mother decided she hated him and severely neglected him. Utaha could have her own section with all this stuff… anyway, Madoka is very aware that his disposition can make it a lot harder on his sister, and desires to become stronger and more independent to ease her burden, but throughout this develops an avoidance to asking for help. He is also autistic, dyslexic, and possesses some other ambiguous learning disabilities.

Following on to my ACTUAL favorite, Hotaru Ibe (previously known as Haruka). He is a former child model who was extremely talented and beautiful, but also very lonely and desperate for human connection. Due to this he experiences some of the horrors of the industry with a photographer acting as his friend and taking advantage of him. After a particularly bad incident, Hotaru quits, decides he’s never doing this again, changes his name and his entire look, and does his best to repress all his trauma with the desire to be “a completely normal kid”. He’s got a lot of shit going on.

And the final player, Ryuunosuke Itori (aka Ryuu), Hotaru’s best friend (Ryuu has a hella crush on him btw). Ryuu is the top of his class, and is extremely similar to Hide and Matsu. He works hard and is is very smart, but the stress starts getting to him. When his delinquent cousin moves in with him, Ryuu finds himself becoming friends with some unsavory types, and soon finds himself spiraling out of control after getting involved in some drug related shit and becomes more and more apathetic and less and less of who he was before. His and Hotaru’s stories (which are actually very intertwined) are probably the heaviest topics.

Onto the two managers, let’s start with Shunichi Itori, a third year, and Ryuu’s older cousin. He’s a delinquent involved in some gang stuff, and after getting detained overnight, his parents are finally fed up and tell him he’s not welcome in their house anymore. His aunt and uncle offer to take him in, if he agrees to put all of that behind him. He takes the offer, and at first he keeps doing bad shit behind their back. They force him to join the basketball club so Ryuu can keep an eye on him, but after he accidentally gets Ryuu involved with his friends, he seems to realize what he’s doing is kind of fucked up, and starts to work on becoming a better person and putting all that stuff behind him, with the help of the other manager.

Aiko Tachibana is a first year, and she’s the third character I made! Her story has shifted a lot, and I have yet to find one that works perfectly. She’s similar to a lot of other characters, she’s very childish but hates being seen this way, has strict parents with high expectations for her, and struggles with her identity. She has anger issues and hates when people don’t take her seriously and struggles with her self image over this. She also has a crush on Suzuki, and believes she likes “mature women”, which factors into her desire to be less childlike.

And of course we have the coach. Her name Maki Ikegami, and she’s an ex professional basketball player who’s career was ended prematurely after an injury. She’s a relatively new addition to the cast and I haven’t worked on her much yet, but she struggles with the new route her life has taken and the way she’s been completely displaced. There’s also supposed to be a club advisor, but I haven’t made them yet oops.

We also have a ton of side characters, such as Utaha Kume (she could have her own section she’s probably the most fleshed out side character), Kiriko and Kaoru Suzuki, Tsuna Edogawa, Ryuu’s currently unnamed prostitute friend (I can’t think of anything that fits her), and many other siblings and family members.

I’m also just now realizing how major a role sibling and family dynamics play in most of these plot lines (unmentioned is how Kazuha and Yuta’s respective brothers are major parts of their characters, among other things).

Sorry for rambling so much I just. Love this story so much and I get excited when anyone asks about it hshdhdjdh

[msclaritea]

"Biopics of massively famous musicians are rarely very good, often because they stumble at the question of whom exactly they’re being made for. Are you making a movie for the already initiated die-hard fans yearning to see the life and times of their hero reflected back at them in exacting detail? Or is your movie a welcome mat for novices, a breezy jukebox of greatest hits aimed at cultivating new generations of fans, goosing streaming tallies and catalog sales in the process? Most musician biopics never manage to resolve this tension, in part because they’re usually also serving a third master, namely the musician’s estate, which tends to hold its own, very specific ideas about on-screen depiction.

Bob Marley: One Love, the new movie about the late reggae superstar that’s produced by Marley’s widow, Rita, along with some of his children, is a biopic that does seem to know whom it’s for, which isn’t a point in its favor. The film is directed by Reinaldo Marcus Green (King Richard) and stars Kingsley Ben-Adir as Marley, who does his best with the role despite not really looking or sounding much like the real Marley. (Within the past four years Ben-Adir has played Malcolm X, Barack Obama, and Bob Marley, quite the triptych of historical figures.) Lashana Lynch plays Rita and steals the film in every scene she’s in, even if the movie’s script fails to elevate her character past the archetypical suffering-yet-supportive wife of a genius.

Rather than taking a cradle-to-grave approach to Marley’s life, One Love instead focuses on a single period of Marley’s career, his self-imposed exile to England in the aftermath of the 1976 attempt on his life at his home in Kingston, during which time he recorded Exodus, the 1977 LP that marked his full breakthrough into global superstardom. The film opens with the assassination attempt, after which we’re quickly whisked to London, where the film depicts Marley writing most of Exodus’ songs in a cloying series of “eureka!” moments that tend to populate movies of this kind. Snippets of Marley’s classic “Redemption Song” surface as a recurring musical motif in the film, and in one of the last scenes, we see Marley performing the song for his awestruck family in a sappy flourish that’s also anachronistic. (By most accounts, Marley didn’t write “Redemption Song” until 1979.) Periodically we’re treated to a series of flashbacks of the singer’s earlier life, a clichéd device that this movie could have used more of: Brief forays into Marley’s conversion to Rastafarianism are surprisingly well done, and a scene of a teenage Marley and the Wailing Wailers performing “Simmer Down” at Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One is the best moment in the film.

One Love is an inspirational tale about a Great Man who used music to unite the world, one that reduces one of the most consequential and complicated artists of the 20th century to a walking fount of genial aphorisms, the guy who suggested we all get together and feel all right. As such, the film indulges a decadeslong public appetite for a particular imagining of Marley that his estate now seems depressingly eager to feed. It’s been 42 years since Marley died of a rare form of melanoma at age 36, and I’m not sure there’s a musician who’s more literally iconic: Go to any commercial district in any part of the world and within minutes you’ll find an opportunity to buy something bearing Marley’s likeness. In the United States, Marley has been a staple of dorm-room walls for generations: The casual and underinformed co-optation of Marley by American bro culture has even inspired a recurring meme in which Marley’s name is erroneously affixed to an image of Jimi Hendrix.

To a certain brand of musical cynic, Marley has become the embodiment of a musician whom people own posters and T-shirts of but don’t actually listen to, which isn’t totally fair to most of the owners of those posters and T-shirts. Some of Marley’s music is still enormously popular: His 1984 greatest hits compilation Legend is currently enjoying its 820th week on the Billboard 200, a position it will likely maintain for the foreseeable future given One Love’s early, strikingly robust box-office projections. The only album that’s spent longer on the chart is Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.

But in the pop-cultural imagination, Legend has completely eclipsed everything else Marley ever released. The album has sold more than 15 million copies in the United States alone, while no other Marley LP has sold even 1 million stateside. From a purely mathematical standpoint, this would indicate that for many fans, Legend is the first and only Marley album they’ll ever listen to. I’m not sure there’s another greatest hits compilation that has played such an outsize role in the public definition of an artist.

Legend is a fine little collection, but the idea that it’s some sort of one-stop synopsis of Marley’s career is absurd. For starters, 10 of its 14 tracks date from the period of 1977–80, a four-year time frame that represents the height of Marley’s global popularity but is a relatively minuscule cross section of a staggeringly prolific, nearly two-decade-long recording career. (Five of Exodus’ 10 tracks are included on Legend, which I suspect is one reason that One Love is so invested in the album’s significance.)

This period also coincides with a time when Marley’s music seemed to take a step back from revolutionary politics, a tack that may have been driven at least in part by the aforementioned assassination attempt. The Marley canonized on Legend is not the Marley who sang “I feel like bombin’ a church/ Now that you know that the preacher is lyin’ ” or who called for “burnin’ and a-lootin’ tonight … burnin’ all illusion tonight” or declared that “Rasta don’t work for no CIA.” The dominance of Legend in the U.S. is particularly striking when one considers that Marley’s highest-selling album in this country during his lifetime was 1976’s Rastaman Vibration, which peaked at No. 8 on the Billboard 200 and includes such overtly political tracks as “Crazy Baldhead,” “Rat Race,” and “War.” Legend doesn’t include a single track from Rastaman Vibration, instead opting for romantic fare like “Is This Love” and “Waiting in Vain” and feel-good anthems like “One Love/People Get Ready” and “Jamming.” (For an excellent deep dive into the history and legacy of Legend, I recommend this article from the Ringer earlier this week.)

One Day’s Director Has No Regrets About the Movie’s Controversial Ending

Legend’s preeminence has helped turn Marley into the musical equivalent of a tourist destination, at which One Love is just one more cozy attraction. This is worse than a shame, because the real Bob Marley was one of the most remarkable musical talents of the 20th century. As a songwriter, he was so prolific that music seemed to pour out of him, a quality that has sometimes led to a naturalization of his gifts that veers into exoticizing primitivism. (One Love certainly partakes in this.) But rather than being some carefree savant, Marley was a fiercely disciplined and ambitious artist from the very beginning. He wrote and recorded his first single, “Judge Not,” in 1962 at the age of 16, and it remains an astonishing debut, an effortlessly catchy melody sung by a voice that sounds both nervous and supremely confident in a way that only a teenager can manage.

By the time he signed to Island Records in 1972 and began his ascent to international superstardom, Marley had already written a lifetime’s worth of great songs. He had a preternatural ear for hooks and crafted songs that were ready-made hit records, three-minute gems of perfectly crystalized musical ideas. As a singer, his indelible tenor rasp and thrillingly improvisational style were the byproducts of an extraordinarily well-honed sense of intonation and time. And during the 1970s, he fronted what might have been the best band on the face of the earth, grounded in the peerless rhythm section of drummer Carlton Barrett and bassist Aston “Family Man” Barrett, the latter of whom died earlier this month at age 77. (Aston’s son and namesake, an accomplished musician in his own right, plays his father in the film.)

One Love doesn’t know how to begin exploring this artist and his art in any way that even begins to be interesting. Instead it just feeds back the same sanitized and saccharine idea of Bob Marley to the same audience who has been eating that up for generations. It’s a movie about a poster. Over the end credits of One Love, archival performance clips of Marley flash onto the screen, and for a few moments we’re treated to sounds and images that are infinitely more magnetic and thrillingly alive than anything we’ve seen over the preceding 100-ish minutes. That Bob Marley, and the extraordinary body of music he left behind, is still out there for those who go listening for it, but this movie isn’t where you’ll find him."

[bigskydreaming]

So back to finishing up the last of my data pages/graphics for getting my patreon started, which I was hoping to get off the ground at the start of this month but had to delay. But my original stuff is largely gonna be the focus of it, and though I have multiple original 'universes,' I'm leading with The Firmament: a giant space opera universe that intermingles over a dozen different human civilizations who all have their own unique advantages - some biological, some magical, some technology derived, some location derived, etc.

One of them features a kind of symbiosis between a human civilization and ancient, bodiless entities of pure force and will known only as patrons. The concept for this started out as a YA novel I was writing over a decade ago before shelving it for ages. It's morphed drastically since then, though the underlying rules of this particular civilization remain largely the same as when I first came up with it, just....the focus of the narratives shifted in very different directions that forced the ideas and themes to evolve in different ways than I anticipated, stuff like that. The novel set in this part of The Firmament is now an adult sci-fi novel called Starlight Sonata, with a wildly different premise, third person POV instead of first, etc. None of the characters from the original YA novel made the final cut at all, though I might revisit them in short stories or something like that.

Really only the setting of the Impossible Academy stayed the same, aside from the overall 'rules' of the civilization. Though in Starlight Sonata its in the background and not the focus at all, just part of the established worldbuilding. Anyway, just thought I'd toss this out there because I'm kinda bemused by all the ways the ideas in this morphed from their initial concept to what it is today. Which should be more clear once The Firmament data pages/graphics get up and posted (after the generalized ones about the entire Firmament setting, each civilization has their own specialized pages and I'll be starting with the Patron and Muse pages).

From the original YA novel and premise:

In this fairly isolated star system within the greater Firmament universe, there's a race of supremely powerful psychic entities known as the patrons. They don't communicate with humanity or interact with them except for when they can be persuaded to through art - the only thing humans create that they're at all interested in or intrigued by.  And so in this particular galactic civilization, artists wield great power - they attend rulers and command armies, as with the backing of a patron, they can manipulate the weather, destroy cities, even confer immortality.  But first they must train at the Academy, in the hopes of attracting a patron of their own. And where they learn, sometimes at a terrible cost, that the favors of their patrons are unpredictable and sometimes dangerous....and can vanish as quickly as they're granted.

In this excerpt, the main character Teela (a Musician) gets her first glimpse of the Academy, along with three of her future classmates, an Architect, a Painter and a Dancer.

The sky-ferry rounded the cliffs and I leaned forward over the railing, eager for my first glimpse of the Academy.  I failed to realize doing so would put me partially outside the comfort of the ferry’s artificial atmosphere.  Chill winter winds tore at my face, chapping my lips and numbing my cheeks.  I gasped and shivered and most likely caught pneumonia, but then the towering spires of the Academy loomed up ahead of us and I forgot how to be anything but awed.

It crowned the red rocks of the mountaintop like a glittering, multi-faceted jewel, walls curving and climbing at dizzying angles that defied everything I thought I knew about geometry.  Buildings shimmered like pearls beneath the haze of the Academy’s perpetual twilight, the grounds blanketed by lush, sprawling gardens said to bloom year round in an eternal spring.  A spinning crystal orb balanced atop the tallest tower.  Riotous displays of color boiled and shifted within it and splashed across the sky above, rainbow auroras crashing against banks of clouds like waves upon a shore.

“The Painter’s Moon,” Alars said.  He leaned forward beside me, eyes following the same path as mine.  His fingers twitched against the railing.  “Imagine painting with the sky itself as your canvas.”

I was no painter, but I understood the hunger in his voice all the same.  Then the temperature spiked in a span of seconds as we crossed whatever border kept the Academy in its own space and time, untouched by the outside world.  The sky-ferry picked up speed as it skimmed along the side of the mountain.  We darted past hanging tropical gardens, the air thick and heavy with their perfumes.  Winds from our passage set delicate trees to swaying and howled through gaps in the cliffs, somehow turning into haunting melodies that I recognized: Ardakoff’s Requiem at Midnight, the Dosvai Dirges, Mariroja’s Pasionada ad Infinatum….great.

Even the rocks at this place played them better than I did.

We drew level with a waterfall thundering down the cliff-face.  It drowned out whatever Mira was saying next to me.  Spray misted our faces as the ferry rose to the Academy proper. 

It was impossible to gauge just how big it was, but then, a good many things about it were impossible in general.  Like the buildings that looked as though sculpted from ice and hovering above with no support whatsoever.  Or the sweeping silver staircase that climbed so high in the air it seemed to end in the clouds.  Or the bridge of water growing out of a fountain and supporting a handful of people as sturdily as one made from stone…but then, I supposed that’s why it was called the Impossible Academy.  What do you expect from a place crafted from imagination, unfettered by physics?

“Wait, hold that pose!”  Ezra shouted behind me.  I spun to see him viewing me through framed hands.  He pursed his lips in mock concentration.  “I have my first masterpiece.  Open-Mouthed Peasant Feasting Upon Flies.”

“Ezra, move away from the railing,” Mira said with an imperious eye roll I vowed to later practice in the mirror.  She held a perfectly manicured hand between them and studied it, as though gauging its effectiveness as an instrument of fratricide.  “I’m feeling dangerously justified in shoving you overboard.”

He scowled and sulked off.

“How are you related to him?”  I wondered out loud.

“Some kind of cosmic joke is my best guess.”  She sighed.  “No idea what the punchline's supposed to be though.”

[hwauroras]

THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제1장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, @hwalysm, pinterest

wc ≈1.2k. unedited. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san and artstudent!wooyoung). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - just seonghwa buying paint, san making him an offer to collaborate and wooyoung acting dramatic over frozen yogurt. if you're lactose intolerant, it's dairy free. wooyoung drops the f bomb once.

seonghwa stood before the mesmerizing array of paints, his eyes carefully scanning the vibrant colors and various sizes. each stroke of his brush held the essence of the mystery person he had long sought after - thus he longed for the perfect shades to bring them to as much life as he could possibly muster.

with contemplation evident on his brow furrowed face, he delicately picked up each tube, bottle and bucket, studying their hues as if they held the key to unlocking his artistic visions, before placing them back down and subsequently moving on to the next.

this mysterious figure demanded nothing less than the highest standard, the most absolute perfection. it wasn’t merely just a matter of finding the “right pigments”; it was about capturing the intricate emotions, fine distinctions and the very soul that resided within him.

as seonghwa continued his search, his fingers grazed the plastic of a particularly alluring bottle of midnight blue. his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the potential within its depths.

could this be the very bottle that will perfectly encapsulate the melancholic gaze, the subtle yet screamingly obvious elegance his muse carried?

or perhaps the soft, beautiful lilac, like the delicate blush of morning's first light, that could capture the whimsical grace and vulnerability he oh so desperately wanted to capture on his canvases?

or maybe even—

“oh, seonghwa. i thought i’d find you here.”

seonghwa turned his head at the sound of his best friend’s voice, his fingers still hovering over the bottle of midnight blue. he offered the younger a small smile, the conflict of choice still evident in his eyes.

“san? what are you doing here?”

“well..” san responded, curiously eyeing the deep hue seonghwa now held in his hands. “process of elimination. you weren’t in your art studio, and you didn’t answer your door - so i knew there was only one other place you could be at.”

seonghwa chuckled.

“clever. how can i help you, san?”

“well,” san began, his eyes shining with anticipation. “i have an idea.”

seonghwa raised an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly suspicious by his friend's enthusiasm. knowing his best friend, his ideas could either be incredibly amazing or incredibly stupid.

“what kind of idea?"

san’s mischievous grin widened as he continued to speak.

“i know you've been longing to bring this person to life, right? well, what if we combine our talents? i want you to help me with the cover art for my upcoming album."

seonghwa’s eyes lit up at the proposition. music and art, two creative realms of two passionate souls merging together - at the very least, it was an exciting and intriguing prospect to him.

“really? you want me to create the cover art for your album?"

san nodded, his eyes somehow sparkling even more. seonghwa couldn’t help but smile at the sight. music made san happy. the recording studio to san was like the art studio to seonghwa - a place of nothing but raw emotion and self expression.

“yeah, of course!” san exclaimed. “who else? you’re my best mate, you’re super talented, and i think it would be a great way to start bringing a voice and some sound to the person you keep painting. they obviously mean a lot to you. so what do you say, park seonghwa?”

seonghwa’s heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and excitement at san’s idea. not only was it a chance for him to collaborate creatively with the only person that ever believed in him - but it also provided him with an opportunity to not only see, but to finally hear even just a little bit of his muse. it was a chance to bring them to life, even if it was through a different medium. and even though it would mean he would have to show his muse to the world, maybe it could bring them back to him somehow. he set the bottle of midnight blue back on the shelf, its potential momentarily forgotten, as he turned to face san with his full attention.

"i would be honored, choi san.”

~

you watched as wooyoung stood before the mesmerizing array of film cameras, his eyes carefully scanning the various brands and sizes. each press of a button immobilized his precious memories and provided him with physical evidence he could carry to the future - thus he longed for the perfect camera capable of capturing such pieces of time.

with contemplation evident on his brow furrowed face, he delicately picked up each little machine, studying their lenses and functions as if they held the key to unlocking his artistic visions, before placing them back down and subsequently moving on to the next.

with a click of the tongue, you grabbed his arm, causing him to jump and glare at you.

“jesus christ, y/n. i almost dropped the fucking camera.”

“sorry, wooyoung. i’m just bored.”

“then why did you come along?”

you sighed, fighting back the urge to facepalm at his question.

“because you made me, woo. you begged and begged, and promised me frozen yogurt.”

you blankly stared at the purple haired man clutch his chest and sink to his knees, feigning betrayal.

“is that really how much you value our friendship, y/n? where the promise of some sweet, chilled cultures dictates whether or not you accompany me, your best friend and greatest person in the whole world, to a store that enables the upkeep of passion?”

“yep.”

wooyoung’s melodramatic reaction left you stifling a laugh but you quickly composed yourself - not wanting to draw any further attention to yourself.

"look, i really do value our friendship, woo," you reassured him, a mischievous glint in your eyes and a smirk creeping onto your face. "but i mean, come on. a little frozen yo-yo never has never hurt anybody as an added incentive, don’t you think?"

“ah, y/n, you wound me with your words. here i am, pouring my heart out into finding the perfect camera to capture the very essence of life and its beauty, and you reduce it to mere frozen treats.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics, quickly stopping and clearing your throat once you noticed the other customers starting to stare.

wooyoung, who was still on his knees, followed your gaze before looking up at you with an exaggerated pout and playful eyes. he extended his hand towards you, his voice dripping with faux sorrow and defeat.

"okay, fine. if frozen yogurt is all it takes to have you stick around and bask in my wonderful, unforgettable presence, then i graciously accept your terms.”

reigning victorious, you took your best friend’s hand and helped him to his feet, giving his cheek a playful squeeze as he brushed nonexistent dust off his clothes, signalling the end of his act.

as you stood side by side, eyes still twinkling at each other with shared mischief, you couldn't help but feel grateful for your friendship and the lighthearted moments you shared.

shooting you a warm smile, wooyoung tilted his head towards the cameras.

“well then. shall we?”

“well then. we shall.”

~

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading

[akitamafumis]

trying to go through life thoughts

I wrote some thoughts on the l/n starira AU that i am putting here for posterity . mainly .

I don’t really know where to start or how to go into this. I made a comment to frog about how i thought that thematically l/n weren’t too far off, at least with some things. There’s the difference between revue’s focus on selfishness, but i think in a way you can see those as the difference between theatre and music (non-theatre) as art forms. Does that make sense? It’s an interesting part of a band, that the thematic idea of selfishness literally can only go so far—anyone can hope to be the lead in theatre, but a drumset player can’t hope to play the melody (you’re about to pitch your idea for a set of chromatically tuned toms. There’s nothing i can say to you that would stick in your brain).

So that was kind of my general vibe. I felt like there were enough similarities to justify the differences to make it make sense. I was only doing it as a writing exercise and it kind of spiraled. Ppl have talked about how it’s rly hard to revue something else because besides just fun aesthetics for art, it requires upward work to try and justify the occurrences in the AU to make it actually work. So i thought, maybe, it’d be fun to try and work through those thoughts a bit and see what I could come up with.

The most major change of note is that Shiho’s parents work in theatre in some way—it’s super vague and I didn’t want to come up with any concrete answers just because it felt pointless to. One of her parents might be a rinmeikan graduate or a family member was a teacher there or something, hence how they ended up with an old Rinmeiki vhs, and a result of her parents being in theatre means her desire to be a professional musician is switched to a desire to be a professional actor. A lot of what ripples out from there in terms of their childhood is pretty self explanatory: they watch Rinmeiki, put on little plays together just the four of them, and then things fall apart as they grow older.

I wanted to get them relatively close to pjsk canon at the start moreso than starira’s, so the perf department is already closed while they’re in their first year. I think in the context of this story they had more members at the start of the year, but people (upperclassmen) dropped into general education just because they knew the department was going to close down, until it was just Shiho and Ichika. Upperclassmen are only 2nd years, bc the part of my brain that cares too much ab logistics thinks the school would let any third years graduate in their department before shutting it at the end of the year but ANYWAY.

Kanade and Shizuku showing up is just because i needed two people connected to two of our people. I don’t know what school kanade/25ji go to. MMJ are frontier they’re. Idols. I have no idea who frau platin is. Actual answer probably Iori. But instead. Haruhi Minamoto. Fuck you.

There’s a lot about what I did with honami that ends up feeling like favorite character favoritism. And it IS. But it was also tied to the fact she did brass band in middle school, so she’s converted to being the most theatre oriented behind Shiho. Rather than Honami being ostracized for what she is in canon, it’s for acting, which was mainly because i needed a reason for her to quit acting specifically. Centering acting does shift the fact that for both honami and shiho acting becomes the center of their straining relationship with ichika/each other, rather than their interpersonal problems. But revue generally ties personal problems and the stage up together, so i think it’s not an unfair thing to change, and it’s not so much a change for Shiho, anyway.

Also honami’s weapon IS NOT A SCYTHE. It is just a lance. They have pretty boring revue weapons. The scythe joke is ABOUT HER NAME ONLY. IT IS UNFORTUNATE, BUT MERELY COINCIDENCE. WE SHOULD KILL KOCHO SHIZUHA.

The. Story is meant to conceptually cover what would be the school story (partially)+opening arc… a hypothetical main story (which you will never see from me because SCOPE) would large scale consist of them trying to form an official association and performance festival, etc etc etc, alongside their individual character arcs.

As far as the characters, shiho’s follow up would cover um. Obviously. Saki and Ichika have both taken Shiho helping/joining the association to mean that she’s not planning on transferring but that is still very much on the table for her. Only Honami is aware that the . Fights within their group aren’t over yet which is meant to compound with a certain lack of confrontation.

Honami’s would center around that whole revue weapon business, and the sense of regaining her brilliance. There are certain elements that tie into pjsk canon in terms of her (re)finding the confidence to speak her mind and put her foot down more, slowly. I think also as a secondary thing she gets into directing, over time.

Saki’s the most vague in my mind. I think she’s got passion and conviction but a sort of lack of direction, even though those two usually lead to the third. It’s the least developed in my brain so far. There’s also maybe something about her illness, both in terms of recognizing her own limits and acknowledging them, but also in not sidelining herself from going for lead roles, or something.

Ichika sort of lacks a lot as a stage girl initially. In her idea that she has parts of the rest of the group in herself i thought about including some implication that she doesn’t know what she would pass on to the three of them in return, but i couldn’t fit a line in about it without drawing a lot of attention to it, and it would fly under the radar after that revue and not come up again for a while. She’s also still carrying baggage for assuming the fault of the department shutting down.

Point is, when saki and ichika agree about not fighting each other and only facing other schools from now on, they are entirely off base. Things aren’t really fully aligned.

Okay. Now for my least favorite part. I thought revue intros would be fun and now i have to talk about them a little bit briefly. All of them contain an element of their name, alongside. Okay.

Saki’s is a mess well okay that’s not fair they’re all a mess to me . The “Bright skies” in the opening references the her last name, and the reference to blossoms her first name. Hers also overtly. References Rinmeiki.

Shiho’s isn’t tied to rinmeiki at all and the name references are the most vague, but her is very. Situationally accurate and i think remains so. She does the hard carrying for the revue conversion and i think up until the transferring confrontation comes to a head she’s often sort of . Antagonistic in trying to push the rest to either rise to the challenge or give up. “Brilliance pierces through the artificial shades” is the reference to her name. Brilliance standing in for sun and um. Sun piercing through the treetops. Also the final line the use of the word rises.

Ichika’s guided by the light of stars is her name reference, alongside the “melody of our song” thing. Rinmeiki are referenced as well, “against the flow of history” and the thing about her being a hero.

Honami’s is so heavy handed it hurts me and that’s what she gets for being last. She references all four of their names, and doesn’t have a specific Rinmeiki reference.

They also all specifically reference themselves differently. Ichika and Saki as students of rinmeikan, shiho as merely a stage girl, and honami as part of the performance association (which technically doesn’t exist officially when she says that).

I think…that’s kind of everything I’ve got…at least for now. That’s the bulk of it, really, i think. I hope. I don’t know :)