#tbhc my beloved

[damsel-in-mistress]

thinking about the time Alex wrote the lyrics "I have a feeling that this whole thing might just turn out too clever for its own good" in a song on an album that quite literally turned out to be too clever for its own good - just think of all the hate it got for being different bc ppl were stuck on the puzzle (pun fully intended), unaware they were missing the precious piece of Al's writing evolution that is Everything You've Come to Expect and The Last Shadow Puppets

TBH+C is a fucking masterpiece

[angelolsenwife]

i wanna stay with you, my love, the way some science fiction does *goes insane*

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

when all else fails atleast I've got my undying obsession with concept albums to keep me company 🙏

[dustzvacuumcleaner]

[notmygrave]

uhode -> sciencedfiction

[misskattylashes]

This essay is so big, it needs two parts!

The EYCTE cycle

Part 1

From ‘I Just wanted to be one of the Strokes’ to ‘I’m scared of love’ and why I don’t think we will get TLSP 3 any time soon.

There is no doubt that Planet Milex is a different place to where it was in 2015. Back then, they hung out in LA, treated girlfriends like third wheels, were pictured cuddling and behaving like a couple outside The Kills gig, and then went onto record Everything You’ve Come to Expect.

Planet Milex 2024 seems like a desert. No official pictures of them together, the only indication they are still in each other’s lives being Miles frequently mentioning in interviews about hanging out with Alex, still sharing clothes, a picture of them walking the streets of Shoreditch, a sneaky photo at a Scott Walker tribute concert (which interestingly was taken down immediately). Then ultimately, Alex wanting his beloved to be the support act for the final days of the tour, when it was clear at times Alex felt a little overwhelmed by it all, and of course, Miles was there to hold his hand and bring him back down to earth.

‘Maybe I was a little too wild in the seventies’

It’s interesting out of all the Monkey’s songs, it is I Wanna Be Yours that Alex then merged with Star Treatment (often adding ‘I just wanted a jet ski for the moat’ – more of that later), which kind of confirms who I Wanna Be Yours is about – I have no idea why no none has ever questioned the addition of ‘secrets I have held in my heart’.

I think the EYCTE period was one where feelings deepened and promises were made. The one to watch is Miles. At the beginning of the promotional period, Alex looks like an adoring boyfriend, but Miles is quite composed and whilst flirty with Alex, it’s no more than he ever was before, during the SIAS and AM eras. By the end, in the days of Sziget and Rock en Seine. Miles is looking like a soppy puppy with eyes full of love (pretty much how Alex has looked at him since 2008!). But judging by the lyrics of Star Treatment (which Alex started writing during EYCTE), Alex was aware their little bubble couldn’t last ‘here ain’t no place for dolls like you and me’, but Miles, having fallen hard thought they could keep it going.

Alex went off to France to record TBHC leaving Miles stranded in LA, friendless and a bit lost, meanwhile Alex went through a period of self-reflection and justifying to himself why he had let Miles down. Not all the songs on TBHC are related to Milex, Alex was influenced by a whole variety of things, but songs like Star Treatment, Golden Trunks, Batphone and The Ultracheese address their situation. The Ultracheese even ends ‘I done some things that I shouldn’t have done, but I haven’t stopped loving you once’. I see TBHC as Alex’s ‘excuse album’. Sorry I let you down Miles, but look what a big superstar I am with all these big responsibilities, but know I love you’

Miles on the other hand was angry and hurt and wanted to lash out. Coup de Grace is full of angst with thinly veiled digs at Alex (of course during the official promotion, Miles said it was about Hannah his ex but I do think mentioning Alex’s personal information in Killing the Joke is kind of telling). Wrong Side of Life is possibly one of the saddest and most desperate songs I have ever heard. And on Silverscreen, how do you explain Two Faced Johnny as being a woman?! The only hint at self-blame is on Too Little Too Late, with the lines ‘I’m too fickle set in my ways, I’m too little too late’ – which has echoes of Troubled Son. Personally, I think one of the reasons Alex possibly wanted to go back to how they were prior to EYCTE was because Miles had never committed before (see most of AM!) and it was a case of do the hurting before being hurt. But CDG ends with Shavambacu, which in an interview Miles said was about an ex and they used to call each other Shavambacu as a silly little name (cue footage of Miles calling Alex Shavambacu on stage). And the last line is ‘oh honey I love you’. Like TBHC, CDG ends with a declaration of love.

In between CDG and CTS we have the night at La Cigale (which I will write about in a different post) where I think their fall out came to a head, because not long after that, we have grainy footage of them hanging out in East London. At the same time Miles is writing Change The Show, and whilst the songs are still a bit angsty, there is a lot more pragmatism. See Ya When I See Ya stands out, and we have the ‘Johnny’ character again, but instead of being angry with Alex for his double life and secrets, Miles has resigned to himself he’ll always be there for him and keep his secrets for him. I think because they had reconciled to a degree, Miles realised they weren’t going anywhere, but it didn’t mean Alex didn’t annoy him. Final track Adios ta ra ta ra indicates exasperation at their constant battles, but there is still an air of resignation.

Part two tomorrow

[leafjoon]

Between the Lines - pt. I

tbhc!alex x reader this chapter is bascially a slow burn, fluffy vibe charged w some sexual tension between the reader who is in college n our beloved alix who becomes her editor. warnings: age gap, alex is 33, reader is in her 20's, cursing, alcohol.

In the heart of the university campus, a quaint café served as a haven for students. Seated at a cozy corner table Y/N and her best friend, Sophie, found comfort in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of hushed conversations.

The soft glow of pendant lights cast a warm ambiance over mismatched wooden furniture, creating a warm atmosphere. Amidst the rustling of students immersed in textbooks and the distant murmur of espresso machines, Y/N and Sophie navigated the labyrinth of academia.

"Ugh, I suck," you groaned, holding your English lit paper in your hands.

"You don't," said Sophia.

"I got a C, Soph."

"Didn’t you do this on three hours of sleep?" she looked at you.

"Yeah," you grumbled.

"You'll do better next time."

"Ugh. I know. It's just such a blow to my confidence," you said, sipping on your ginger tea.

"I know. But this grade doesn't determine your skills. You're great at writing," she said, swirling her spoon in her iced coffee.

"Well. That's debatable," you replied.

She glared at you.

"Fine, fine. I'll stop talking shit about myself," you rolled your eyes.

"Good." She said pleased with your answer. 

You scanned the coffee shop and saw students going about their normal routines. Some of them were hurrying to get to their lectures on time. Others were lazing around in their seats, talking to their friends. Chatter filled the room as you let out a stressed out sigh. You sulked, not knowing how you were gonna recover from this grade.

"Anyway, as I was telling you. I asked my dad about Mr. Turner. He said you can give him a call and ask him to check out your novel."

"Oh god,” you groaned. “I mean-thank you so much. I don't wanna seem ungrateful, I just-I don't know. It feels awkward showing someone my short novel. If you can even call it that,” you rambled.

"I get it. I get embarrassed when I show my tutor my paintings. And he always has something to say," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Soph, your paintings are incredible. And your guy is good."

"That's true," she said, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

You smiled at her. You loved your best friend. You met in high school and became close friends senior year. You used to spend hours at each other's places, watching shows and mulling over the characters. She was one of the few people who was there for you through thick and thin and you weren't afraid to show your vulnerable side to her, insecurities and all.

"I'll send you his phone number and you can contact him whenever."

"Okay. Will do." You said, scrunching your face.

"If you don't do it, I will.”

"Ugh, I'll do it, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it."

"I can't wait to go out on Friday. I need to get drunk and forget," you groaned.

"Same. We've been too stressed out lately. We need to let loose," Sophie added.

You and Sophie had a tradition. No matter the circumstances you always went out on the weekend. You often drank alcohol at your favorite bar or club and danced until your feet were numb and your hearts were pounding. Then you stumbled to one of your dorms and ate junk food or watched a shitty movie.

Sophie looked down at her phone, her clock reading 1:47 PM.

"Well, I have to run. I have Literary Criticism soon,” she remarked.

"With Mr. spits when he talks?" you replied.

"That's the one," she said, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

You chuckled. "Good luck."

"I’ll see you later," she leaned down, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You, on the other hand, finished your lectures for the day. Your Mondays weren't as rough, consisting of only two lectures in the morning and god, were you thankful for that.

Your eyes darted to your phone screen, after you received a notification from Sophie.

Alexander Turner

+378 09 998 890

Anxiety gnawed at you. You took a deep breath and told yourself It’s fine. He gets paid for this kind of job. He’s probably seen worse writing.

You decided to be brave and text him as there's no way you were calling him.

Hello Mr. Turner. Peter Herring recommended you as an editor. I am currently working on a short novel and I am interested in hiring you. Would you be interested in that? Thank you in advance.

You typed it out, reading it again. You erased the words ‘short novel’ leaving it blank. 

"Ugh." You said out loud. You decided to retype it and send it without thinking too much, letting out a sigh of relief.

As you were scrolling on your phone, it suddenly started vibrating and a number appeared. It read Mr. Turner.

Oh god. Why the hell is he calling me? Doesn’t this guy know how to text?

You answered your phone hesitantly, bringing it to your ear.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi." a low voice spoke.

"Um. Is this Mr. Turner?"

"Yeah. What's your name, love? You didn't introduce yourself," he said in a thick British accent.

"Oh-um, I'm (Y/N)."

"Alright, (Y/N). You're interested in hiring an editor, is that correct?"

"Yes." 

"Great. How's Wednesday evening work for you? 7pm, my office? We can discuss the details then."

"Um, Wednesday evening? Yeah I'm good with that," you said.

"Alright. I'll send you my address then. Don't forget your novel," he added.

"Yes. Thank you," you sputtered.

And with that he hung up the phone. You stood there bewildered at this phone call. You just agreed to go to this random man's office on a Wednesday. You had no idea he was british. Why didn't Soph tell you he was british?

Well I guess you have an editor now.

*

In the sanctuary of your dormitory, you and Sophie nestled on your sofa as you found comfort beneath your favorite blanket.

"I had no idea he was british! His accent was so thick Soph. Like, I had never heard it before."

Sophie was laughing at you. "I thought I mentioned it."

"Well you didn't. Nothing could have prepared me for that. He was so swift and straight to the point. Skipped all the usual bullshit."

"Yep, that's Turner for you," she replied.

"How did your dad meet him again?" you inquired.

"Oh, he was his student in college. Mr. Turner lived in London for a few years and then moved here after my dad recommended him for this sort of writing position," she shrugged.

"Huh. That's interesting," you said. "Hey, what does this guy look like?" you asked, your curiosity peaking.

"Hmm. Let me show you his Facebook," she said. 

"His Facebook?" you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

"What? He doesn't have Instagram. He's in his 30s." she added.

"Right," you nodded. You got up and sat next to her, both of you staring at her phone. She found his Facebook page and clicked on his photos.

"He's kinda cute," you said, breaking the silence. Sophie chuckled at your reaction. "He’s good looking," she shrugged.

He had big brown eyes and medium length hair that went past his ears, down to the nape of his neck. His beard seemed neat and trimmed.

"Don't get any ideas now," she looked at you, teasing. "I'm not. I want to see how he looks like so I'm not completely blind sided when I get there."

"Anyway," you continued. "Do you wanna sleep over tonight? My roomie's not here."

"Oh my gosh, yes. I'll go grab my stuff," she exclaimed. "Okay," you said in a singsong and slumped down on your sofa, stretching out your legs.

You couldn't help but feel jittery for Wednesday. You let your thoughts wander for a little, wondering what he was like.

*

The week was passing quickly, and it was finally Wednesday. You were preparing to leave and go to Mr. Turner's place. To say you were a little nervous would be an understatement. Your palms were sweaty, and you weren't sure what you were wearing was appropriate.

You questioned if you looked like you were trying too hard as you opted for baggy brown suit pants and a red shirt with long sleeves.

Ugh. I'm sure he doesn't give a rat's ass about what I'm wearing.

As you put on your big leather jacket and wrapped a black scarf around your neck, the words he spoke echoed in your mind. "Don't forget your novel." As you went back to your room, you made sure to grab your novel and quickly stuffed it into your tote bag as well as your dorm keys. You couldn't help but wonder if any of his clients had ever forgotten theirs.

You decided to take the bus to his office and followed the instructions he texted you.

102 Ave Street. Nr. 32. If you have difficulties finding it, call me.

As you strolled around the neighborhood, you spotted a house with the number 32. You walked past his charming little garden and couldn't help but admire how nicely maintained it was. 

Now, standing in front of his door, a mix of excitement and nerves crept over you. Unsure of whether to give a knock or press the doorbell, anticipation filled the air. You decided to knock.

As you took a moment to take in your surroundings, the sound of the door being opened reached your ears. Stepping into the view was a figure of a pale man.

"Uh, hello," you said, extending your hand for him to shake. "Good evening," he said, a slight awkward smile on his face. He glanced down at your hand for a few seconds before finally reaching out to shake it.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Turner," you said, maintaining the handshake. "Likewise. Please, come inside and feel at home," he invited you.

"Thank you," you quietly replied as you stepped into his house, though a slight feeling of uncertainty lingered. It almost felt like intruding. "This way to my office," he directed, gesturing towards the left.

"Would you like a drink? Coffee or tea?" he asked. "Uh, tea would be fine. Thanks."

As you walked into his office, you settled into one of the inviting chairs positioned near his desk. Your gaze wandered to the oak wood bookcase that adorned the room, its shelves overflowing with a collection of books. Your eyes were drawn to the carefully placed plants that created a warm and inviting atmosphere. You wondered if anyone else lived in this house, although it seemed empty by the looks of it.

"Here you go," he interrupted your thoughts, setting down a mug with hot tea. "I brought you ginger. I don't know if you like it or not," he said with a serious tone. "Oh, that's my favorite actually," you said, smiling awkwardly.

"Great. Careful, it's hot," he looked at you and gave you a half smile. You blushed a little and brought the mug to your mouth, taking a sip. "So, did you bring your novel?" he said, staring at you.

You tried to speak and swallow at the same time and ended up choking on your drink. You coughed for a few minutes as Alex stared at you, his face laced with concern.

"Erm.." he shifted so he could tap your back. "Try to look up. It should help," he said.

You followed his instructions and looked up at the ceiling, coughing. Your throat seemed to calm down.

"S-sorry," you barely managed to say. "No worries. You alright?" 

"Yes," you exhaled and took out the novel, handing it to him, trying to move past the awkward situation. "Thank you," he muttered.

He took your novel and opened it, setting it down on the desk. Your legs were only a few centimeters away from each other. You shifted slightly, not wanting to invade his personal space.

You realized he hadn't asked you to send him your novel and wondered if you had made a mistake. Perhaps you should have asked him about it.

"Um... should I have sent a digital copy of it to you?" you questioned. "No, it's quite alright. I prefer reading it in front of my clients," he said, his gaze not leaving the book.

You felt awkward, to say the least. It wasn’t pleasant having someone read your work right in front of you. Especially when you thought editors usually familiarize themselves with your work beforehand.

You fumbled with your fingers, unsure what to do with yourself. Bringing the hot mug to your lips, you took a few sips. Your eyes wandered around the room and settled on Alex. He looked like he was studying your work, wearing a serious expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed.

He looked handsome. When a few strands of hair fell on his face, he tucked them behind his ear. You felt your cheeks heat up and looked away before he could catch you staring. 

As you anxiously awaited his response, doubts clouded your mind about whether any of the sentences you wrote were coherent. You nervously retrieved your phone from your bag, feeling the clamminess on your palms. However, before you could reach out to a friend, he abruptly spoke up.

“S’good,” he looked up at you nodding. “Really? But you didn’t read that much.." you weren't sure what to say.

“I don’t need to. I can see that it’s straightforward and has a clear direction. It’s a bit wordy though and needs some work.” He added.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded. He noticed you slumped a little and found it endearing. He had to remind himself of your age and sensitivity.

“But don’t fret. It’s nothing we can’t fix,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Right,” you smiled politely. You looked at him for a split-second and then glanced down at your hands.

“Well. I need to read the rest of your novel now. I only wanted to give you a clear picture of what we were gonna do in the upcoming weeks and how this works,” you nodded.

“For now we can meet once every two weeks and then see how your work progresses. Does Wednesday work for you, around this time?” “Uh-yes. I can do that.”

“Perfect. I want to recommend two books for you to read that could help you with your writing. Could you grab “On Writing”, by Stephen King from the bookshelf there?” he pointed to a book with a brown hardcover.

You stood up and spotted the book he was talking about. “This one?” you asked. “Yes. And also the “Bird by Bird” on your left.” You looked around but didn’t see the book he was talking about.

He stood up, approaching you, his chest pressing lightly against your back. His hand reached out just above your head, and a tantalizing scent reached your nose. The subtle blend of cigarette smoke and lavender emerged from his clothing.

“That’s your right,” he said behind you, amused. “Oh, right,” you chuckled awkwardly.

He got back to his desk and handed you the book, your fingers grazing his.

“You don’t need to read these in over a week. This isn’t school,” he chuckled. “But they should help you improve and explore different methods of writing.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Turner,” you mumbled. “Oh, feel free to call me Alex,” he said. “Okay. Alex,” you replied.

You felt strange saying his name in such a casual manner. It felt like you were talking to a friend your age, not a 30 something year old accomplished editor and god knows what else.

“Oh uh, how do I pay for this?” “My secretary will contact you for that. The first session was meant for us to get acquainted and make sure that we are a good fit."

“Great,” you said.  “Alright.” He looked at you. “Right. Then I’ll be going. Thank you, again. It was nice meeting you,” you mumbled. 

“It was nice meeting you too,” he smiled and guided you to the door. You waved goodbye, and exited his house, the cold autumn air surrounding you. Well, now you really have an editor.

*

Alex didn't expect, well, you. He knew you were younger but god, were you a pretty little thing. His usual clients were a lot older and well, half of them were men.

He tried not to get carried away as his mind swirled with different thoughts about you. He didn't want to be creepy and he never wanted to give you that impression. So he tried his best to be professional.

But you were making it so hard. With your pouty lips and your fumbling hands every time you waited for a response from him. You wore these perfectly fitting tops that hugged your body. Occasionally when you moved around, the fabric would subtly reveal a glimpse of your midriff, making it impossible not to gawk at you. He thought you were simply adorable.

"So, how are your classes going? Anyone giving you trouble?" He asked, genuinely interested. "They're going well," you trailed off, sighing. 

"It's one of my professors. I don't think he likes me," you murmured. "Who?" he asked. 

"Professor Miller," you slumped a little. "Oh. Well I don't think he likes anyone if that makes you feel any better," you laughed. "No but seriously, what’s the problem?" he asked.

"I have the lowest grade in his class," you said, rolling your eyes, a little embarrassed to admit. "Grades aren't everything (Y/N). I've had my fair share of shitty grades too."

"What if I just suck though?" you asked, finding it unbelievable how comfortable you felt talking to him after knowing him only for a few weeks. "Nah. I would have dropped you by now," he teased you.

You gasped. “I’m only joking. You have a lot of potential,” he said, softly gazing into your eyes.

You smiled, feeling at ease.

"If you want I can help you with your assignments. Give you tips and such. Free of charge," he joked.

Both of you couldn't help but notice that your knees were touching but you felt comfortable staying close.

"Are you sure?" you asked. "Yeah. What else am I gonna do with my time?" he said. "Thanks," you said, feeling like this is beginning to border on inappropriate. But you didn't care.

"How about tomorrow, after your classes, you come by and we can see what we can do."

You nodded. "Okay. Sounds great." 

*

You had entranced him. He knew it was inappropriate. He was your editor, after all. And much older than you. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand the idea of any of these college guys having you. You were too good. Too sweet.

He wanted to be the one who owned you. He often imagined what it would be like to graze your delicate skin with his fingers. Make you shiver under his touch. Or how you mouth would feel around his coc-

"I hate writing!" you exclaimed, getting up from his couch and pacing around. You guys had moved from his office to his living room. He wanted you to feel comfortable.

He listened to you intently as you explained what you meant to convey in your latest pages. He could have easily done this over an email, but no, he had to see you. Your low voice, sweet like honey, reached his ears.

You sighed. "I don't know. I feel like I'm losing sight of my story. I have no idea what to do next." You said, biting your lip.

"Maybe you should leave it be," Alex replied.

"Huh?" you questioned.

"Well you've been working really hard at it lately. When was the last time you did something else you were passionate about?"

"I-," you paused, "I don't know," you mumbled, sitting down next to him again.

"See? You need to forget about it for a while. Create some distance."

You mulled over his words. "Is that what you do?"

"Course. Every artist does."

You looked at him like the world hung on his lips.

"Yeah. I can try that," you said, a worried expression on your face.

"No," he laughed. "Don't take this as another assignment. I mean really forget about it. Do something that doesn't make you think about writing."

You thought about it for a while and asked "Like what?"

He hesitated. "Well." Fuck it, he thought. "I have two tickets to the theater tonight," he raised his eyebrows slightly. "One of my friends canceled on me and you can join me if you want.”

His gaze met yours as you registered what he asked you. He looked at you, biting his lip, worrying if he had been too forward.

"What's the play about?" you asked, caving in. He tried to contain his smile and continued "It's ballet. The last swan lake."

"Oh, I've always wanted to see that," you said. "Great. We can meet in front of the theater at 7:30. That alright?" he asked. 

"Yeah. Sounds good," you replied, trying to contain your enthusiasm. "I'll see you later then."

*

As you were getting ready in your small bathroom, you couldn't help but feel nervous about tonight, butterflies swirling in your stomach. We can meet for a drink beforehand, if you want. My treat. He told you a few hours ago, wearing a shy smile.

You had reluctantly agreed. You wanted to spend time with him so badly but you felt like you were doing something wrong. You hadn’t even told Sophie yet.

You got dressed, slipping on your silky tights past your legs. You decided to wear a delicate black dress with long sleeves that exposed your plush thighs. Pairing it with your leather jacket and your red scarf, you slung your small handbag over your shoulder, getting ready to leave.

You decided to take your earphones with you and listen to music to calm your nerves.

When you arrived at the charming bar he had picked, you flung the door open and entered. lThe cozy ambience enveloped you as you stepped inside, a welcoming contrast to the crisp evening air outside.

Alex, already seated at a secluded corner table, looked up from his menu, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of you entering.

As you made your way towards him, the gentle flicker of candlelight played on the edges of his features. "You made it," he said, rising from his seat and pulling your chair out for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your cheeks rosy from the cold. You sat down, not knowing what to do with your hands or where to look. This felt strangely intimate.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked you.

“Uh. What are you getting?” you replied.

“Probably a beer.” He said.

“I guess I’ll get a glass of white wine then,” you replied, feeling somewhat awkward. You didn’t expect in a million years to have drinks with your editor.

“You sure? You can get anything you want. Like I said, it’s my treat.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Yeah I’m good,” you replied bashfully.

After the waiter brought your drinks you started delving into conversation.

"So, um, tell me more about yourself," Alex prompted, his gaze lingering on you.

You giggled, sipping your drink. "Well, there's not much to tell. Just a struggling student trying to make it out alive."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "From what I've seen, there's more than meets the eye."

You met his gaze, and the air shifted, charged with an unspoken tension. "You know, I never expected my editor to be someone who could make me forget about writer's block."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe I'm just that good at my job."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between discussions of literature, shared interests, and personal anecdotes. As the night progressed, the topics ventured into more intimate territories, the subtle dance of words revealing layers beneath the surface.

"You have this way of making the mundane sound interesting," you remarked, now both on your second drink. You could feel your face heat up from the alcohol.

Alex leaned in, his gaze intense yet inviting. "Maybe it's the company that makes it interesting."

The words lingered in the air, a palpable tension settling between you. Unspoken desires sparked beneath the surface.

"Well, I find the company interesting too," you replied.

A hint of a smirk crossed Alex's face as he took a sip of his drink. "Careful now," he said. "Interesting company can be quite... distracting."

A subtle blush crept onto your cheeks. "Distracting can be a good thing." you replied.

"What are you distracting yourself from?" he asked, his gaze lingering on yours.

“I’m not sure. Everyone has problems, I guess,” you looked down at your hands.

“Anything you want to share?” he asked. 

“Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you chuckled. 

“You could never,” he replied, his tender eyes meeting yours. You stared at each other for a few seconds before you cleared your throat and looked at the time. “Oh, I think we should get going,” you said.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Alex said and he gestured to the waiter for the bill. You thanked him for the drinks and promised you would return the favor next time you saw him. He agreed but knew he wouldn’t let you pay for anything, especially since you were just a student.

You had an amazing time seeing "Black Swan" at the theater. The ballet was captivating, and the music was incredible. You also noticed Alex glancing at you a few times throughout the show. 

After the show, Alex walked you to your cab. Under the streetlights, there was a quiet moment filled with something more than words. You exchanged a look that said it all, a shared understanding between you. As you got into the cab, Alex stood on the sidewalk with a thoughtful smile and waved goodbye.

When you arrived at your dorm, your phone vibrated. 

Did you get home safely? - Mr Turner. 

Your heart fluttered.

Yes.

Great. Good night. 

Night.

After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you huddled into your bed and drifted off to sleep, embracing your pillow. The night ushered you into a world of dreams.

[sophaeros]

golden trunks theory but i've forgotten how to do literary analysis:

so i think much like a lot of tbhc golden trunks is about a juxtaposition between intimacy/desire and the facade u have to put up as a public figure

like the opening verse/chorus are so starkly plain in the mental image they describe. it's just a simple portrait of an intimate night falling asleep together, and theres a very secretive tone created by the words "whispered" "admit". so from the get go we know immediately that it's about "true love" → romantic connotations, and this true love is associated w the night ie secrecy

this is a stark contrast to the second verse and bridge but esp the bridge where he plainly says "in the daytime". usually the day and light are associated w truth and revealing things but here he uses the daytime to talk about "a fresh new pack of lies", in contrast to the nighttime's "true love". the fact that the bridge is about being a celebrity and contending with lying for the sake of public relations is made very clear w how he says "bendable figures" → public figures who just bend/conform to the narrative crafted by pr managers, and most obviously w the use of the word "publicise". in an interview w la times hes asked if he enjoys being a pop star (w all the pressure and attention that entails) and he says "i have very little basis for comparison. the band has been going on for a larger fraction of my lifetime than it hasn’t." so as a very private person even leaving conspiracy theories about sexuality aside hes obv familiar w trying to keep the details of his relationships out of the spotlight. + this idea of the nighttime being the time for truth has been used before in diwk so it's a consistent theme

lots of people say the song about politics bc of the second verse cuz they say it's about (eugh) donald trump but i feel like thats a very surface reading. it's very out of place to me for him to have this randomass political commentary in a love song that he never brings up ever again which is why i dont think it's actually political commentary (or well, not Just, the pitchfork interview shows that is Is aware of politics obv it's just not the Point) it's just another angle to illustrate the idea of a public facing facade. he states in an interview that he thought of the wwf, which has given us the very interesting concept of kayfabe: the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic. the public persona, like a wrestler w a dramatic theme song, is larger than life, rehearsed, beloved and famous, and also very much fake. 

this next part i said entirely as a joke making shit up while talking to my mutuals but then i was like wait maybe i was cooking. we're getting into more speculative rpf territory here but essentially i thought it was very interesting how he specifies that this is "the closest thing to a love song on this record", and also that the character it's centred around is one that he "made". many of his past love songs everyone knows are about his real actual love interests (eg shes thunderstorms was about alexa. alexa was a tv presenter) and now here's this song that is about simple, straightforward admittance of desire towards someone that doesnt exist. summed up in my og message to my mutuals, "hes singing to the amalgamation of his lovers an imaginary ideal to whom he can be simple and honest with in a way he can't quite bring himself to be in real life". i honestly feel like this gels well with the ultracheese's last two lines; a vague admission of guilt, of complicated feelings, vs capitulating to honesty and tiring of lying for the sake of pr ("i'm sure you've heard about enough"). + i find it interesting that golden trunks is that only tbhc song that has never been performed live

++ this idea of duplicity and lying has come up a lot in his discography but in tbhc specifically the bside anyways has the line "what a place for both the opposite sides / of my double life to finally collide"

and finally. the absolute funniest part of golden trunks.

Let me set the scene: sometime between Axl Rose getting braids (2002) and People Just Do Nothing jumping the shark (right now), those brothers in melodic yarns Turner and Kane, plus “another human being” – let’s call her “The Girl”, shall we, to save her poor mother’s heart condition? – are intertwined among the postcoital flotsam of an upmarket hotel room. “Hey, I’m glad you came,” Turner is alleged to have said, forever on the right side of etiquette and politeness in such matters. While Kane, in his sludgy Scouser lilt acknowledged, “Ah, thanks, man.” At which point Turner sat bolt upright in his sparkly gold briefs (unconfirmed) to stress who, in fact, his grateful aside was aimed at: “Not you, you wally. Her!”

sauces: - quotes curated by genius - la times - gq magazine / tumblr post

[homoirrealis]

"The way some science fiction does"...

Loved a recent post from @drinkingbitterboy where he is talking about Hillsborough Park posters and how they look a bit like voyager golden record... Check it out here. And it got me thinking... Consciously or subconsciously, his music oozes sci-fi and space references... Not only with TBHC, which is in a category of its own... but across years of his work and interviews: - "She's made of outer space/And her lips are like the galaxy's edge/And her kiss the color of a constellation falling into place" - "The lunar surface is what my friends nicknamed the room in my house in L.A" Alex said - "And as we gaze skyward, ain't it dark early?" And more... use comments to add your favourite - there is definitely more... But coming back to the point made in the post linked above, the line "no matter who or what it meets and what wonders it sees, it carries a piece of home with it and a map of how to get there" got me thinking about how he uses sci-fi main ploy, creating other worlds in order to comment on this one... Alex seems to be always teetering between a notion of: a) creating a record to preserve a moment in time, to travel to it like through the Stargate. After this I more and more think about it as the keys on a device, a portal, a dial to travel between time and space, to a better future or a comforting past... Alex said:"I like the idea that records can sometimes feel like places the listener can go and get lost." that you trevel to at warp speed chic, of course, and staying for a little while... Thanks, mahaonthegram for cementing the idea of Stargate in my mind - credit on visual below to her.

b) Lamenting a future with dreams of heading skyward to outer space, but the reality seemingly earthbound and fixated on what it's in our hands and newsfeeds. Part reflecting on human nature, part resentfully Amusing ourselves to death... - To begin with, "TBHC" and "The Car" give me very strong Solaris by Stanisław Lem vibes... In Lem's own words: "Man has gone out to explore other worlds and other civilisations without having explored his own labyrinth of dark passages and secret chambers, and without finding what lies behind doorways that he himself has sealed” Alex always seem to be saying - we look skywards, we are dreaming about better future, we travel bloody space, yet we always stuck with "rocket-ship grease down the cracks of my knuckles"... In the book, while being surrounded by beauty of space, in his head he is grounded on Earth by his problems, fears, hopes, secret desires and longings... Lem, similar to Alex, makes a point that human obsessions and desires are as strong as any gravitational force, and it only takes a vision of one’s beloved for man to lose himself completely, let alone recover from that and then have strength to discover some external fascinating aspect of the universe... For Alex it might be his creative process, when all of the demons come out to play... it might be creative somebody that he feels gravitational pull to... or a lover... - Furthermore, references to the cheap thrill of social media, "stackable party guests", "hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase", even "weekly chats with God" being video calls... He is enjoying some parts of his life no doubt, but there is a strong sense of resentment too... and longing... because, well, he "Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am". His main mantra to himself being "dance little liar monkey", " stayin' strong for the crew/Wardrobe's lint-rollin' your velveteen suit/And smudgin' dubbin' on your dancin' shoes"...

The sad part is that he says that he needs to be reminded that "it ain't a race when my invincible streak turns onto the final straight"... Like worrying that there is nothing more to it... Scary thought that...

Technological advances really bloody get him in the mood indeed.... It was a very long one, let me know what you guys think....

[glorious-blackout]

hello lovely! 💞 4, 5 and 15 for the arctic monkeys asks 🥰

Thank you! 🥰😘

4) Which member of the band would you most like to spend an afternoon with and why? how would you spend your time?

Honestly that would be Alex, for the very boring reason that he's the only one that's likely to share my love of a quiet afternoon with a book 😅 I feel like it'd be fun to browse bookshops with him and just chat about music and fangirl over Ennio Morricone and Breaking Bad for hours.

(also it would give me an opportunity to wax lyrical about the fact that TBHC is one of the best albums he's ever made and pick his brains over all the weird and wonderful characters/scenarios he must have envisioned while writing it...)

5) Which album means the most to you?

Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino my beloved 💖 I adore The Car as well and consider those two albums my joint faves from a musical perspective, but TBHC just hits different. I vividly remember listening to it for the first time on a long bus journey, watching the world go by as Arctic Monkeys finally *clicked* for me. It gave me a whole new appreciation for Alex's writing and his instinct to try something completely new (releasing TBHC after AM went stratospheric was a super ballsy move in retrospect) and the album inspired me to start writing again after over a year of writer's block. I just love how weird and spacey and Bowie-esque it is and the adorable story behind the album art is the icing on the cake 🥰

15) Favourite Arctic Monkeys B-side?

Honestly I'm less familiar with their b-sides than I should be (though I've listened to most of them at least once) but I have a soft spot for The Blond-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap and Who The Fuck Are Arctic Monkeys.

You and I gets an honourable mention because Richard Hawley is awesome and I also like their cover of Red Right Hand, though nothing could surpass Nick Cave's original for me 😊

[damsel-in-mistress]

I launched my new fragrance called 'Integrity'

I sell the fact that I can't be bought

is part of my Roman empire. The SASS. The wording. The entire fucking song, really.

[spicy-shibe]

🕯️🕸️Hello and welcome to The Moth Cave🕸️🕯️

You can call me Mountain, V2 or Mitchell! I’m 19, Agender and my pronouns are they/he/moth/moss. I’m a copinglink to Mountain Ghoul from the band ghost and V2 from ultrakill!

I’m not going to stick to any one specific thing I made this blog as my space to word vomit and post abt all the things I like <33 (mostly ultrakill, dungeon meshi, helluva boss atm)

Feel free to talk to me whenever I like talking 2 ppl <33 (even tho I’m kinda ass at it 💀💀)

Likes:

Arctic monkeys (AM, FWN and TBHC <33)

ULTRAKILL (I HEART GABEV1 AND V2 IS LITERALLY ME IRL)

The Band Ghost (Mountain, rain, aether, copia and Terzo my beloveds)

IC3PEAK

Watcher/Buzzfeed unsolved

Goth music (xmal Deutschland, ghost dance, crimson scarlet and dance macabre r my current fave bands) I’m a baby bat!!

FNAF!!! (<3333 glamrock chica, toy chica, toy Bonnie, foxy and Michael afton my absolute baby girl)

The Mandela catalog (I’d kill for Cesar, Jonah, Sarah and I’m an Adam Murray apologist)

MLP (I’m a Luna and fluttershy kinnie 😔)

TOH!!( I’m also a Lilith clawthrone kinnie☹️ and hunter my beloved)

HALLOWEEN!!! AND AUTUMN IN GENERAL TBH

Dark academia (autumn and cryptid academia as well)

Cryptidcore (Mothman and Fresno night crawlers r my faves)

MY OCS<333 and writing/painting/drawing them (and just art in general)

I’m a Dan and Phil Stan forever tbh those r my dads, if they go I go

Electric guitar

Welcome home (Eddie and Frank r the only characters ever)

My chemical romance (danger days and the black parade are so good U G H)

Helluva boss and hazbin hotel (mentally ill abt the sexy gay British bird)

Dungeon meshi!!! (Kabru is me irl btw, if u even care)

DNI:

Proshippers

Homophobes/transphobes

Racists

Nsfw agereg/ddlg

If ur gonna be a dick abt literally anything I like 💀💀

Any sort of anti recovery accounts (like thinspo or those who feed into others psychosis etc etc)

MAPs

That’s all for now and thanks for reading!! <33

[blxckwidow]

tbhc my beloved

[spinmehpropeller]

Tbhc live show Alex

[lovelylusts]

Stop the World || Alex Turner || Request

Pairing: Post-TBHC!Alex x Virgin!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: first time/loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, cute lil petnames like doll, handjob, protected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it plz), where can i find a man like this?

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: pre-rona times obviously. thank you for your patience, my dear anon! i hope this was worth the wait!

In which your first sleepover with your boyfriend of 7 months leads to your first time.

There were no words in the English language that could really describe your past few months with Alex. All of your boyfriends before him were terrible - self-centered, only ever talked about themselves, cheaters - but Alex was so different from them that you were nearly convinced he wasn’t human. He was always a gentleman, always ensuring that he would respect whatever boundaries you set in place - whether it be discomfort with PDA, or having to tell him you were not yet ready to take the “next step” in your relationship, he was always respectful towards you.

And that brings you to your first time spending the night at Alex’s house, roughly seven months into dating. To say you were nervous would be an understatement - you knew that you were ready for whatever may happen once you two were under the covers of his queen-sized bed, but you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of butterflies arising in your stomach as you neared his house, your overnight bag sitting in the passenger seat beside you and you gripped your steering wheel. You took the familiar turn into the driveway to the gate that led to the high-class neighbourhood in which he lived, filled with white two-story houses that were a bit too close together for your liking, pressing the four-digit code into the keypad before driving into his neighbourhood towards his house. As the distance between his house and your car closed, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered more and more rapidly, until you parked your car in his driveway and your chest felt heavy.

It’s just one night, you thought to yourself. Everything will be ok.

You dragged yourself out of the driver’s seat of your car, walking around to gather your bag of belongings from the passenger’s side before trekking towards his front door. Your hands were shaking lightly, your head feeling a bit fuzzy, and you began to fear that your nerves would ruin your quality time with your beloved boyfriend. But when you saw him open the front door, presumably after hearing your car door be slammed shut, you felt your nerves begin to melt away - not all of them, but you definitely felt a lot better than you did during your car ride.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted as he neared you to take your bag from you, his long hair tied in a messy bun with a few loose hairs flowing in the cool breeze. “How was your day?”

You were relieved that he wasn’t bringing up any of the pressures you felt regarding your night with him, and that he was going about conversation in his regular manner - whether or not he could sense your tenseness, you weren’t sure, but you still appreciated the normalcy. You carried on the conversation as he led you inside his house, which you always thought was a bit too big for just one person, and smiled as he turned to face you and bring you into his arms. You were enveloped in his warmth and distinct cinnamon-like scent, nestling your face closer to him as if you were scared of losing grasp on this feeling.

He always made you feel so warm inside.

Your afternoon together went as per usual, with him listening to your gossip about co-workers, and you listening to new demos and song ideas that he had come up with in the gaps between visits. But as the night drew closer and closer, and you stood behind him with your arms wrapped around his torso as he prepared dinner, you felt your nerves come back. You prayed that he couldn’t sense the sudden tenseness in your body, or the mild shaking of your hands.

“What’s wrong, love? You feel tense,” he said, concern laced in his tone of voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied in response, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any further questions.

“You sure?” he asked, as if he could see right through your lie. He moved over to dump the pasta into the strainer that sat in the sink before turning to look at you as he spoke, leaning against the counter. “Seriously, what’s going on? Are you nervous to spend the night with me?”

“I…” You lowered your head in shame, staring at your minor scuffed boots. “Yeah. I am.”

“Love, you know I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, right? We don’t have to do anything like that if you don’t want to.”

“The thing is that I want to. I really want to. But I’m just scared, because, y’know, it’ll be my first time doing any of that stuff, and I don’t wanna mess it up,” you admitted, unable to look at your boyfriend as you feared his reaction to what you deemed an overreaction.

“It’s fine to be nervous. If you’re really ready to take that step, then I promise I’ll be gentle,” he said. He turned away from you to divide the pasta into two bowls and cover them with meat sauce before placing them at the table - again, the table was quite big for somebody who lived alone, but you figured it was because he had company over quite often. You two tried to move past the awkward conversation from the kitchen, instead going over your respective work affairs with laughter and smiles.

By the time the sun had completely set, you were both immersed in watching a random sci-fi movie that he picked from his extensive movie collection, though your mind was noticeably elsewhere, your eyes on the screen, though you were not processing a single thing that happened. You were weighing your options, going through each pro and each con of sleeping with Alex that night: you could either wait and just put off your nerves, or you could do it now and not have to worry about it in the future.

“Alex, love, I think I want to get it over with,” you said. You could feel him tense up beside you, though he quickly relaxed himself so as to not worry you.

“Are you 100% sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

You swallowed, trying to breath slowly and deeply to calm your racing heart. “Yes. I want to do it.”

He reached forward to grab the tv remote from the coffee table, the screen going black at the push of a button, before he stood up and reached out his hand to assist you in standing beside him so he could walk with you towards his bedroom.

The room followed a neutral theme with paintings depicting a variety of different autumnal nature scenes, and a few fake plants littered the window sill. He had a king-sized bed with very simple beige bedding, a few throw pillows centered on the mattress decorated with various stitched patterns in varying colors to stand out against the monochromatic setting surrounding. Unsure as to what you were supposed to do, you turned to face him as he approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked, his already thick Sheffield accent growing thicker and his voice had become a bit deeper, softer.

“I am,” you nodded, looking deep into his dark brown eyes, seeing that his pupils had blown out as your eye contact continued on, before you felt him walking you backwards towards the bed until your knees hit the mattress, causing you to fall backwards onto the thick comforter. 

You watched as he unbuttoned his off-white button up, untucking it from his chocolate brown trousers and tossing it off somewhere, followed by the plain white wife beater he wore beneath it. You assumed you should follow after him and began to remove your own clothes, unbuttoning your blouse and throwing it to the side, followed by your pants.

“You’re so beautiful, doll,” he awed, a small smirk forming on his lips as he dropped his trousers to his ankles before stepping out of them. You could see that he was hard beneath his black boxers, and evidently he was quite big, which made you feel a bit nervous, but you calmed yourself by reminding yourself that he would take care of you. “I promise I’ll be careful, ok?”

“Ok,” you sighed out, your voice a bit shaky as he climbed on top of your nearly bare figure, pressing a kiss to your lips as he trailed his right hand down to play with the hem of your underwear right next to your heat. You felt the familiar tingle of arousal between your thighs as his fingers neared your sex, until you felt the pads of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive clit over your black underwear. You whined, bucking your hips against his hand and begging for him to further. “Please, I want your fingers. Please, Alex.”

Alex smirked against your lips, his hand pushing past the top hem of your panties until he was met with your soaking core, running his fingers through your arousal before bringing them back up to your clit to begin rubbing small circles over it. He kissed your neck softly as he listened intently to your sweet moans, taking in how your hips slightly rocked against his hand and your chest heaved. You felt a finger prodding at your tight entrance before slowly pushing in, your walls contracting at the odd intrusion - it was only something you had experienced on your own, but this was the first time somebody else had touched you this way. You never wanted to forget the feeling of his long finger thrusting against the soft spot within your walls. Ever.

“How does that feel?” he asked in a husky voice.

“S-so good,” you moaned out. “M-more. Another finger. Please, Alex.”

A second finger slid into your tight hole, a slight burn accompanying the stretch, but it wasn’t something you were completely unfamiliar with due to your own exploration through late nights on your own. His thumb still toyed with your clit as he thrusted his middle and ring finger against the internal sweet spot, leaving open-mouthed kisses, and every so often a hickey, on the skin of your jaw, neck, and collar.

You finally felt comfortable moving your own hand towards his body, a moment of confusion evident in the way he faltered for a bit before he realized what your intentions were, letting out a low groan as he felt your hand wrap around his hard member.

The two of you lied there, wrapped in each other’s warmth as you worked in tandem to prepare for the main event. You both momentarily forgot that you would be losing your virginity that night, though you were shortly reminded when a third finger plunged into you. Your thighs were shaking, the familiar knot growing in your stomach (notable quicker than when you were on your own.

“Alex… I think I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, unable to raise your voice in fears of being embarrassingly loud.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Cum around my fingers.”

He groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers, the motions of your hand around his cock pausing as you cried out his name, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you came harder than ever before.

“You look so beautiful when you cum,” he said, pulling his hand out of your underwear and removing your own hand from his. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I want you, Alex. I’m ready, I promise,” you said, still breathless from your orgasm. Although you were weak, you were still able to remove your bra and underwear; now your bare body was on full display as he worked on removing his own underwear, his large cock springing out from the cloth confines. From jerking him off, you could already tell he was well endowed, but now that you could actually see the member, your worries came back.

Is he gonna fit? How badly is this gonna hurt? Should I still go through with this?

“Doll,” he calls out, interrupting your train of thought. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I-I want to. I’m just nervous it’ll hurt,” you admit, leaning on your elbows and looking up at him, trying not to be distracted by his bare state.

“I prepped you, but if you’re nervous, I can do some more,” he suggested as he walked over the the nightstand beside you, opening the singular drawer from the dark wooden table, grabbing a silver packet - obviously a condom - from the disorganized drawer, before looking at you with concern.

“No need. I’m just nervous. Were you nervous your first time?” you asked with curiosity.

“Of course I was. But, I was also a horny teenager who was desperate to knock boots, so… Are you sure?”

You nodded quickly, watching as he tore the condom wrapper over and placed the piece of latex over his member before he climbed on top of you, holding himself up on his forearms. His member was resting against your lower abdomen, his lips pressing soft kisses to your next as he tried to soothe your worries. Before you knew it, he was grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance, asking you once again if you were ready, before proceeding to push forward. You cringed at the intrusion, a whimper leaving your swollen lips upon feeling the burning stretch of your walls as he pushed his hips closer towards your own, his thick length filling the tight virgin canal.

“You doin’ ok, doll?” he asked through a grunt. It wasn’t necessarily an unfamiliar sensation for him; however, it had been a while since he had been intimate with somebody on this level, and he had not been with a virgin in quite some time. Your walls felt so warm around him, so tight, and in that moment he felt so lucky that he had the high amounts of self-control that he did, because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper with a tremble, and you could feel the sting of tears forming in your eyes; you attempted to blink them away, but they only hazed your vision and trickled down your temples onto the Egyptian cotton pillowcase. “Keep going.”

He nodded at your wish, kissing you gently to distract from the ever growing pain between your thighs, whispering to you to keep breathing and stopping every few pushes to make sure you were reading to continue. He eventually bottomed out, and you felt as if you were able to finally breathe normally, melting into his touch as he brought a hand to your face to wipe the tears off of your flushed face.

“You’re doing good,” he praised. “Let me know when you want me to move, ok?” He ran a large hand through your hair, kissing you all over your face as you calmed down.

“I’m ready, Alex. Make love to me,” you pleaded to him, grabbing his biceps to brace yourself for the upcoming main. He slowly began to pull his hips away from yours, steadily dragging his cock out of your sopping heat before he pushed forward again at a matching pace, intently watching your reactions to make sure he wasn’t hurting you too badly. The pain was unlike anything you had experienced before, but you welcomed it with open arms and the knowledge that it would soon fade into something more desirable. So you waited. You waited with tears until the pain subsided, whimpers and sobs of pain derailing into breathy moans and cries of his name as you held him so closely that he felt as if you feared letting him go.

You felt as if you had reached the ultimate euphoria as you felt him thrust into you, though you were certain he was not going as hard as he normally would in fear of harming you - he was always so gentle with you, and he wanted to take care of you now more than ever so as to not make your first time unpleasurable.

He felt as if you two were made for each other in every sense of the word - it was the way your hands fit perfectly together, the way your lips felt against his, the way your laughter made him feel as if his heart was going to grow so large it’d explode, the way your small sounds of pleasure filled his ears as he filled you in a way he hadn’t filled anyone else.

The familiar knot was slowly tying itself in your core as he began to speed up his thrusts, the burn had subsided completely and now you felt as if you were weightless and floating as he pleasured you. Then his fingers had once again made their way between your bodies to make contact with your clit, rubbing circles in the same manner as before. Many soft sounds filled the room, such as his low grunts, and your quiet whimpers, and the bed creaking ever-so-slightly as he rocked his body against yours.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his skin as you wrapped your legs around his lower torso, the knot now too noticeable to ignore. Your orgasm washed over you almost instantaneously, your body shaking as you came so hard that you swore you saw inverted stars against the white-hot flashes behind your closed eyes, a loud cry of his name leaving your hips as he overstimulated you.

“Fuck,” he moaned out, the constricting of your walls bringing him closer to the edge; and before he knew it, he too was finishing, filling the condom with his hot seed. He rolled off of you, collapsing on the bed beside you as he came down from the intense orgasm. “Well… how was that?” he asked after the brief moment of silence.

“It was… amazing. Thank you, Alex.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“Because I can.”

[sunshineofyourlove1967]

1 4 12 14 38 and 50 !

hellooooo thank you so much!!! im so glad you’re back, i’ve missed you so much!!!!

1. name your top three favourite songs: oh jeez alright so i think it’s…… in no particular order because i’m too weak to —- them lmao - ….why even try by hippo campus  - i don’t know why is this song so incredibly important to me, i discovered it like, i think a month ago or so? or maybe longer. but i wasn’t at like, the brightest place in my life and i was drawing while listening to it on repeat and kept listening to it for like, four days straight basically without getting tired of it, and it calmed me down so incredibly much, then i listened to it on the bus on my way to exams and back while reading, and i still listen to it every few days and feel so peaceful and transparent and understood, like the lyrics are fairly depressing but i’d found incredible comfort in them,  ‘on and on, the feelings burst and then they fall - till later on we won’t get back to patch things up’ like??? and the whole lyrics, what it speaks about, it’s so definitive, conclusive, irreversibly fatal, like there’s no going back but also no need to worry about things anymore, nothing will be the same as it used to be, but somehow the song was what made me cope with the fact and helped me find perhaps a more optimistic approach to it all, even if at the time it was more of a medium which i explored the lost, wandering, searching kind of sadness through. it’s not just the lyrics though, it’s the feel of the whole song, the guitar and bass and the tempo and all those little unique elements (the instrumental part before the bridge!!!!!!) and even if i won’t be listening to it in a month, a year, ten years, i think it’ll always remain special and unique to me and will always speak the same language as the part of my heart that had needed it so desperately at the time!!

god, how do i name my other top favourite songs after this dksfjhkdf

probably star treatment by arctic monkeys - we’d waited so long for the album even though we made peace with the fact that am was the last thing we’ll ever hear, and i lost my shit when i found out about the news that there was indeed another album coming!!! and then the tiny tbhc snippet on youtube aaaah i remember learning the guitar riff to it immediately and playing it over and over!!! and then we listened to it in my room when it came out and i was stunned the second i heard the opening piano and the backing vocals, and then the ‘as we gaze skyward, ain’t it dark early?’ part towards the end RUINED me and i still cry my eyes out every time i listen to it…. so yeah. am still do really own my ass sddfdf

and the third one……… hhhhhh how am i supposed to choose. probably something off everything you’ve come to expect by tlsp. the entire album is Packed with absolute total fucking bangers and it collectively destroyed us (also the whole tour…………..) probably pattern or element of surprise!!!! or aviation or the title track or used to be my girl or the bourne identity ( oof ) or hhhhhh i really can’t choose, let’s just say that the entire album shares the 3rd position lmao 

4. favourite album cover: oh i like this ask a lot!!! i rly love the cover of revolver by the beatles, it’s so iconic and i adore the style of it, the cover of tranquility base hotel + casino by am bcs,.. c’mon. (i actually made my own version of the model alex made sdkfjhf it was so fun!!! but my hands almost died) andddd is this it obviously, definitely maybe by oasis, and the cover of cullah the wild by cullah is so cool!! (he’s a practically unknown 28yo artist and he has such cool and creative songs!! it’s a mixture between like, alternative blues and alternative hip hop and something uniquely weird and experimental lmao and he releases an album on his birthday every year for free and i love him so much!! he definitely deserves more recognition)

this is what the cover looks like!! (and ‘where you do belong’ off the album is my absolute all time favourite)

12. what’s your favourite era of music: gotta be 50′s, 80′s, 90′s and 00′s, esp the alternative and garage rock scene

14. do you play any instruments? i do!! i play guitar, (acoustic only but god i want to get an electric one so bad) bass guitar, ukulele and i used to play soprano flute in elementary school lmao 

38. what’s a song that has inspired you: i usually pick songs that inspire me, give me certain imagery or provoke certain mood in me and just put them on repeat while i’m writing, so it’s gotta be…………………….. why even try by hippo campus (god this is getting embarrassing how many times am i gonna mention this song sdfdfsdfkdfjf but it’s SO AMAZING and so important to me), to bring you my love by pj harvey!!!! set your arms down, heads up and so good by warpaint, packt like sardines in a crushed tin box, life in a glasshouse, you and whose army?, i might be wrong by radiohead, the entirety of carrie & lowell by sufjan stevens, esp blue bucket of gold and john my beloved recently, and the cmbyn soundtrack by him: mystery of love, visions of gideon and futile devices!!

50 - put all of your songs on shuffle and list the first ten! - alright! so - 

daydreaming - radiohead

heavy storm - first aid kit 

underneath the sky - oasis

la parisienne - zaz

she came in through the bathroom window - the beatles

we no who y r - nick cave & the bad seeds

blue bucket of gold - sufjan stevens (oh hello!!)

the orange monkey - pj harvey

je hais les dimanches - édith piaf

a place i know - cullah (hmmm)

thank you so much for the ask!!!!! it Really kept me entertained for a while lmao thank you!!!