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queers-gambit · 7 months

Text

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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vulpisnocturna · 1 year

Note

hot things about Itachi's mannerisms that he does without realising?

Anon, you want me to die? Okay okay. Mostly SFW, a lot of simping going on. I’ve got a few, the last one is especially cute 🥰

- This man has no idea of the power his voice holds. His tone is always mellow and he chooses his words carefully, but that rich cadence and deep voice is just- I just know he got all the bitches (i am bitches) ready to kneel on the ground he walks upon

- Eye contact!!! He always makes everyone feel like they have his undivided attention. And his eyes are his biggest power, so he needs to keep them on everyone. But with the people he trusts, it’s just constant eye contact! This includes during sexy time, and it’s just-

- He sits like a mf king. This man was probably trying out intimidating poses before Sasuke got to the fight, and boy oh boy did he deliver! The easy stretch of his legs, the nonchalant hand resting on the cloak… look, he exudes power, and it’s hot and I don’t care

- His hands deserve a category of their own. Have you seen them??? The nail polish (slay), the long, slender fingers, the ring. I just know Itachi has an artist's hands. Pretty and elegant, with graceful, tapered fingers and veiny back of the hand (kill me I am a slut for hands)

- He likes cats (hot and very valid)

- His little smirk (I am deceased). He doesn’t show emotions often, but that little smug smirk is just-

- He loves to tease people. I don’t know what it is, but I just know deep down, he’s got sarcasm for days and he loves to use it

- I have this headcanon that when Itachi’s interested/curious, he tilts his head a little. I don’t know if I’m weird for classifying this as hot, but listen, it looks like a feline stalking a prey. It’s valid, and that’s that.

- He has manners. You know how he knocked before trying to kidnap Naruto? How he uses honorifics even with Kakashi, before he puts him in a coma? Manners.

- He can cook

- His hair. It’s not a mannerism, but the girls that get it, get it.

- He is observant: he sees it all and he notices when something’s not right

- He has brains for days. Not only is he blessed with impossibly good looks, he is also incredibly smart. I mean, what more could you want?

- Despite being a prodigy, smart and beautiful, Itachi is not going to rub it in people’s faces. He knows he’s powerful, but he never underestimates anyone

- Wearing a necklace. I don’t know what it is, but jewellery on him looks stunning

- In a modern AU, he definitely would open a car door for you

- He would walk with his hand resting on the small of your back (tell me that’s not the hottest thing ever)

- Definitely rolls up his sleeves when he wears a shirt. And ofc he’s blessed with amazing forearms

- Drives with his hand on your thigh, or holds your hand and changes gear without letting go of it

- Is a malewife. He cooks, he cleans, he does it all

- Is secretly possessive

- This man is such a giver. He’s constantly thinking of your pleasure during sex

- holds eye contact with you when you two are having sex

- Would be the type to tip your chin with his finger to kiss you

- chokes you against a wall 🥰🥰🥰

#fanfiction #writing #naruto #archive of our own #itachi #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi headcanons #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha smut #itachi imagines #itachi smut

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marypsue · 2 years

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There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY.

Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life.

The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it.

But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do.

The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose?

It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them.

Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards.

So. Paint that t-shirt.

(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)

#this post brought to you by: me being so so sad about zoomers having crafts and Making Thing With Your Hands Badly stolen from them #also by me listening to a radio show on How The Sony Walkman Changed Music And Where It's Going Next #ready for the san andreas fault to open up and swallow silicon valley whole forever folks #anyway. followers i am getting down off the cafeteria table now.

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miueo · 3 months

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𐙚 my little idol ♥︎．。．:*･° chap i ✿

ᰔᩚ ︶ྀི new legacy .

summary : you're currently in a new girl group underneath jyp entertainment ! your group is performing well on charts, you have a stable fanbase, and many bops to listen to! you try your best to avoid dating scandals for the sake of your reputation and status but it's all ruined by a very popular group of boys.

pairings : ot8!skz ♡ femidol!reader !

warnings : no smut in this chapter ; heavy on smut, sexualization & objectification, perversion, obsession, taboo / dark concepts (for some members, not all !) , mental physical / health issues (depression, anxiety, etc.), coercion, unsolicited pictures, more to be announced.

notes : hiii !!!! i am currently in guangdong… ive been traveling so much lately, sorry for the lack of content. THIS IS JUST AN INTRO CHAPTER!

taglist : @p0eticjust1c3 @yunjinswifee @sky00ung @pinkdranks @bloominhos @mi-mi-mu @nasiaisan @kitkat1sstuff @hyunjinhoexxx @theinsanebish

selected song for fic :

in the bustling heart of seoul’s entertainment scene, amidst the glittering promise of fame and the relentless pursuit of dreams, there exists a young talent whose voice echoes with the power to stir souls. her name is song y/n, a gifted vocalist whose journey to becoming a k-pop sensation began with a passion for music that bloomed in her hometown.

from an early age, y/n’s voice enchanted audiences, drawing praise for its depth and emotional resonance. encouraged by her family’s unwavering support, she embarked on a path that led her to jyp entertainment, where her talent would be nurtured and polished to perfection. in the rigorous world of k-pop training, y/n’s dedication and natural ability set her apart, particularly her ability to convey emotion through every lyric and melody.

selected for her exceptional vocal skills, y/n found herself among the chosen few to join 4ura, a newly formed girl group at jyp entertainment. with three other members, each bringing their own strengths to the table, 4ura aimed to carve out a place in the competitive landscape of k-pop. for y/n, being part of 4ura wasn’t just about achieving stardom; it was about fulfilling a lifelong dream and sharing her music with the world.

as rehearsals filled her days and anticipation fueled her nights, song y/n stood on the brink of a future she had once only dared to imagine. with determination in her heart and the power of her voice as her guide, she was poised to make her mark as not just an idol, but as an artist whose presence on stage would resonate far beyond the lights of seoul.

❁

at the forefront stands y/n song, the group’s main vocalist hailing from the vibrant streets of new york city. blessed with a voice that effortlessly transcends genres, y/n’s journey to stardom is a testament to years of dedication and an unyielding commitment to her craft.

beside her is olivia wong, the group’s main dancer, whose electrifying moves reflect her upbringing in the bustling metropolis of hong kong. with a dance style that blends precision and grace, olivia brings a dynamic energy to 4ura’s performances, captivating audiences with every fluid motion.

adding to the group’s allure is minjeong kim, renowned as 4ura’s visual, drawing inspiration from the natural beauty of jeju island. with a magnetic presence that commands attention, minjeong’s ethereal charm and captivating gaze make her an undeniable visual powerhouse within the group.

completing this quartet of talent is autumn yang, the group’s main rapper with roots tracing back to the sun-drenched shores of california. autumn’s sharp lyricism and charismatic delivery bring a fresh perspective to 4ura’s music, adding depth and diversity to their sound.

❁

beyond their individual talents, 4ura thrives within the supportive community of jyp entertainment, fostering close relationships with labelmates nmixx, stray kids, itzy, and twice. from collaborative performances that electrify audiences to backstage camaraderie that strengthens their bonds, 4ura and their fellow jyp artists form a tight-knit family united by a shared passion for music and a drive to push boundaries.

as they prepare to debut on stages both local and global, 4ura stands poised to make an indelible mark in the world of k-pop. with their unique blend of talent, charisma, and ambition, they are ready to carve out a place among the stars, promising a future where their music will resonate far and wide, leaving an unforgettable imprint on the hearts of fans everywhere.

everything is so perfect right now. what could possibly ruin this beautiful moment?

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d3arapril · 11 months

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modern!ellie headcanons

my take on modern ellie. why? cos i love her 🙄 pls enjoy! feedback appreciated as alwayssss~ <3

✧ warnings: brief we3d mention but other than that, none! just ellie being ellie. safe for all audiences!

ellie was quite reserved when u first met and now ur dating she can still shut down sometimes but she's working on it

she's quiet if she doesn't know u...if ur close... ur gonna wish u weren't

literally NEVER shuts up sometimes?? she can be like one of those wind up toys and chatter on and on for HOURS if she's in the right mood

knows random facts about the most obscure things

"babe did u know that there are more than 60,000 tree species on earth??" *silence* "uhhh.... thanks el?"

CHRONICALLY ONLINE!!! knows every meme under the sun, would still use xD un-ironically if u didn't bully her for it

her tiktok screentime is probably like 7 hours a day bc she could spend endless hours just laying in bed scrolling, u get home from work/school and she's sent u 30 messages. u watch every single one <3

she's fairly active on instagram but doesn't really care about followers etc... just posts random photos whenever she feels like it and has several photo dumps dedicated to her fav pics of u. has a highlight called ‘❤️’ with pics of u

would comment on other ppls tiktoks but not post her own vids.. she’s a bit of a troll sometimes LOL

bites her nails/fingers all the time til they bleed... it's a habit

u got her the nail polish that tastes nasty to try and help her reduce the amount she bites her nails but she just started enjoying the taste of it 😐

"i thought this was supposed to taste bad???" she'd ask u with a thumb shoved in her mouth

so obviously gets bitches but is so oblivious to her surroundings and doesn't notice people ogling at her whenever you're walking around together

however if people are looking at u?? its on sight

gets very jealous very easily and has a mad short temper. lowkey toxic sometimes

will wear an 'i love my girlfriend' t-shirt without even being asked because..she loves u..duh?

leaves u notes all around ur home... u open the fridge and she's written on the empty carton of milk that she left in the fridge :/

'i love u ps were out of milk :('

wears flannels/hoodies, vests/plain tshirts and baggy jeans (maybe skinny jeans if she’s feeling crazy. u tell her she’s outdated) with converse every day. 'lesbian uniform' she calls it...

carabiner queen but doesn't actually have any keys attached to it, just keychains... her fav is the spiderman one she won at the arcade. also has a fidget cube attached. Locked And Loaded

tobey maguire is her favourite spiderman :) closely followed by andrew garfield. she says she’d probably have a crush on him if she liked boys. also loves wanda.. obviously

listens to old 2016 rap.. fetty wap has been in her top 5 spotify artists for the past 2 years

also listens to deftones (her fav songs are teenager and cherry waves btw)

uses wired earphones still because she can’t let go.. they’re busted and chewed up to hell but somehow are still going strong

i’m a strong believer that ellie would LOVE watching berleezy and quotes his videos ALL THE TIME. it's "..and bricked.... hello!" whenever she sees u looking nice (which is all the time to her)

knows all the fnaf lore (somehow?? shes never even played it)

super light sleeper, always tossing and turning and she's actually fallen out of bed several times bc she gets so ridiculously restless

always sleeps in until she only has around 15 mins left to get ready. is somehow rarely late

she has no skincare routine but has perfect skin 🙄 just washes her face with some random cheap face wash she found on sale and moisturises when she remembers. she also doesn’t use conditioner bc she ‘doesn’t believe in it’ but has soft hair? tf

always staring at u? she frowns a lot but when she looks at u her entire face softens and she has that lil half smile that she doesn’t even realise she’s doing

u guys have an intricate secret handshake that she practised in her own time so she could get it right

her journal is full of sketches of u, poems about u… girl is so in love sometimes it scares her a lil

made a scrapbook for ur birthday full of everything she’s kept from everywhere u have been together, she even kept the stickers from ur starbucks drinks and stuck them in there <3

wrote a lil song for u and waited until ur bday to sing it to u for the first time… she got so embarrassed straight after so she just hid under the covers

big ol stoner! if u dont like weed she won’t smoke when she’s with u but if u also smoke/don’t mind she’ll loooove to smoke w u. gave u her fav grinder as a token of her love

tried to make special brownies but u both burnt them to a crisp 😔 el tries so hard to be optimistic (for once) “it’s fine babe we can just eat it anyway” “ellie it’s literally crumbling when u touch it…”

tried to stick n poke herself several times but couldn’t commit so she just has unfinished pieces on her upper thighs

loves head scratches and pants like a dog when u scratch the right spot

is this emoji 🧍🏼‍♀️ frequently

that’s all folks (for now……) …. i love her

#ahhhh shes silly goofy and unstable. i love her #ellie #my writing #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcanons #tlou headcanons #tlou fic #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ellie williams smut #sorryyy tagging this again #only way 2 get stuff seen :(#ellie tlou

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togglesbloggle · 6 months

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In Defense of Bad Things

'Bad' here meaning mostly 'amateur'; stuff made enthusiastically by people at an unprofessional level. Art with visible gaps between what the artist imagined and what they achieved, products of flawed craftsmanship. I suppose everybody can appreciate them to some extent, it's a rare parent that doesn't put up their kid's drawings on the fridge in one way or another. But it turns out to be a fully general skill you can cultivate, and the more I do, the more I'm glad I did.

Partly, it's the teacher thing; finding delight in amateur work is one of the ways to find delight in the process of learning. Cultivating a love of striving-qua-striving can help make you a force for good in the world, as people start to feel safe trying to do things when you're around, even when their efforts are wobbly. You get to participate a little more in the process of atoms spinning themselves into ideas, even when there aren't any illusions about whether you're helping cultivate some revolutionary genius in the field.

And partly it's a fabulous way to build community. By necessity, our professional-level skills tend to be at the service of other people, performed for economic benefit; that's kind of how you get professionally good at something in the first place. When we're acting for our own sake, and among friends, most of what we do with one another is amateurish. I only cook middling-okay, I can't hold a tune that well, I'll never be a speed runner for anything. If you can only enjoy singing from the hundred best singers in the whole world, manufactured and polished by major studios, then you and your friends will sit shoulder-to-shoulder and passively listen to music. But it's so much richer an experience to sit face-to-face, actually singing together, even badly; you expose yourself to so many new ways to appreciate and respect one another, building relationships on what you've accomplished and not just by witty criticism or liking the same things.

And partly it's because some of the most powerful and innovative artistic experiences are in high-churn environments with low expectations and low barriers to entry, if only because those catch the passionate and driven young people that have been otherwise overlooked by our systems. The golden age of webcomics meant that a ton of the actual art involved was pretty lousy, but it also produced work that people still talk about today. D&D began as a profoundly unpolished collection of handmade rulebooks sold at cons in a plastic baggie. By the time these products of enthusiastic amateurs filter themselves through various levels of popularity and absorb mainstream cash influx, they're often risk-averse and missing a lot of the bold spark that inspired their fans in the first place; others will simply never drift towards the mainstream at all. I'm not saying you should be the person who goes out to dig through the slush piles of the internet looking for overlooked art, unless you want to be-- but sometimes a work of actual staggering genius also happens to be a Supernatural fanfic by a first-time author who's a little hazy on commas, and if that's a dealbreaker, you're going to miss out on some profoundly valuable experiences.

And hiding behind all of these things is, like...

Our appreciation of beauty has an odd structure, right? When things are done very skillfully, by brilliant artists with years of training, we can usually appreciate those accomplishments. And when we're looking at nature without human influence, and especially when we think very deeply about natural processes and understand them in context, we often rediscover that sense of beauty. There's just this bizarre hole in the middle where we declare things 'ugly'; as if a little skill is worse than none at all.

I really don't trust that gap. It feels like a trick my brain is playing on me, you know? It has me suspicious that a lot of what I consider 'ugly' or 'bad' is not a very direct experience of the world at all, or an informed judgment. That it is, rather, a declaration of (self-, social-) identity; a desire to be seen as a person of good taste, or as somebody who does things well, or just more primitively as one of the monkeys who is in the good-stuff-tribe and not one of the monkeys who is in the bad-stuff-tribe.

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aquareegia · 10 months

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Transcript of Will Ramos' essay on Sleep Token for Rock Sound magazine

I might play in a metal band as part of my job, but I don't listen to much metal music anymore.

A few years ago though, I remember one of my friends saying to me, "Dude, you've got to check out this band Sleep Token… They're pretty cool".

I'd never heard the name before, but I'd listened to 'Hypnosis' and a couple of other songs from the band's second album, 'This Place Will Become Your Tomb', to see what they were like.

Hitting play for the first time, I was caught off guard. You hear the guitar and these slamming instrumentals and instantly you think, 'This is about to fucking kick ass'. You're so sure that the vocalist is about to come in with some gnarly screaming, but then you hear this man singing, and he's singing so beautifully. I didn't see it coming at all, and as soon as I heard it, I knew that it was exactly what I needed to hear.

At the start of a long drive that I had to make on my own, I hit play on 'This Place Will Become Your Tomb' from the beginning for the first time. As the record began with 'Atlantic', I was vibing to the sound of the music, but as it rolled through each track I started to get more and more caught up in this incredible sonic journey. By the time it was over, I realised that I'd been on this emotional roller coaster of love, pain, happiness, sadness and nostalgia.

Boom, that was it - I was hooked on that album. Every single song on that record was so freaking incredible to me, and I needed to know more about Sleep Token. Believing that my friend and I were the only people in on this hype, I spoke about it to my band one day, and they said to me, "You need to listen to 'Sundowning'!" I was so mad that they knew about this band the whole time, and nobody ever told me, but I went back and listened to Sleep Token's first album like they suggested.

I remember thinking it was very different. It's not as polished, but it's very dynamic and so beautiful. I think it definitely says something when you can see the progression of a band from just their first and second albums. From then, I knew they were onto something incredible.

It feels like more and more people have been catching onto that hype over the last year, and now it seems as though their name is impossible to ignore. I remember when they released 'The Summoning' at the start of 2023, the day after they'd released 'Chokehold', it felt like it all went crazy. They had something like 4-million hits on that song in just two days, and now, it's got over 70-million plays on Spotify. It was the beginning of a huge explosion for Sleep Token, and the first time I heard it, I was genuinely confused by it. It's so ridiculously versatile, and on my first few listens I felt like the super jazzy outro didn't fit at all, but the more I listened the more it began to click. I remember at the time I showed it to Elizabeth Zharoff, a vocal coach from The Charismatic Voice, and the outro was immediately one of her favourite parts.

She's from a completely other world of music, so to hear her approval showed me how capable Sleep Token were of reaching people outside of the metal scene.

I might not listen to metal music anymore, but Sleep Token are revitalising heavy metal. It brings back the nostalgia that I felt when I was a little kid listening to this type of music for the first time and being like, 'Holy shit, what is this? This is so cool'. I had started to lose that feeling over the years, but every time I listen to these songs, all those emotions come flooding back. In my opinion, there's no band out there that sounds like them - and that's a truly impressive feat.

Merging metal with pop, R&B, and rap influences, and bridging all these different gaps that many artists have historically been afraid to explore, there's something here for so many types of music fans. For a long time, metal bands have been putting themselves in a box. There's been this idea that a metal band needs to be heavy, that you need to have a breakdown in every song, and that you need to tick all the boxes in order to succeed. It's been so refreshing to see the evolution of the genre over the last few years, and to see bands like Sleep Token bring all these different sounds to the forefront of metal.

It brings a whole bunch of unique people into the fold. People love to say that metal is dying, but it's music like this that keeps it alive. It doesn't just move the scene forward, it expands it.

Now, there are all these people who didn't listen to metal before listening to Sleep Token. R&B and pop fans are coming into this as fans of Vessel's singing voice and hearing all these metal influences along the way. The second verse of 'Take Me Back To Eden' has this great rap-inspired singing part, and it's these little things that speak to different people in different ways. All of this feeds into our community in some crazy way, shape, or form. It's welcoming people into a genre that they may never have been exposed to otherwise, and I think that s a beautiful thing.

As a vocalist, one thing in particular that draws me to Sleep Token is Vessel's voice. I have always been a screamer, but I've always wanted to be a singer at the same time. I always practise on the side of Lorna Shore, but in my mind I'm like, 'This isn't very good. My voice is not fit for metal at all, as far as singing goes'. When I first heard Sleep Token though, one of the first things I noticed was that Vessel and I have a very similar range. Hearing him lay down all of these incredible parts, it makes me realise that I can actually sing metal vocals.

Back when I first discovered them, I wanted to cover their songs in the hopes that more people would hear them. Now, I just want to cover them so that I can sing something that is in my range.

Obviously though, his voice is much more dynamic than mine because he's been polishing it for a very long time. He does a crazy vibrato and can switch between his head voice and chest voice super easily. It's crazy stuff, and as someone who has been a vocalist for so long, I can appreciate the techniques he's using. I love to hear the different ways he's able to blend his voice into the genre.

Another thing that makes his voice so unique is that it's so emotional. When I hear Vessel sing, I can truly feel the emotion behind his words. He might be this otherworldly figure singing about an ancient deity, but there's a distinct humanity to his vocals. You can sense his sadness and pain, and whether people realise it or not that draws a lot of people to Sleep Token's music. They're the band that you can listen to at two o'clock in the morning when you're driving down the road alone. They're the perfect companion for those moments where you're upset about something, and you just need to listen to something that feels like a release.

That's a beautiful thing, because when you write music, you want people to feel the same emotions that you're feeling when you're writing it. The way that Vessel translates all of that is so incredible, and it's arguably my favourite thing about the band. Between his vocals and the instrumentation behind them, you feel exactly what they want you to feel. Even before thinking about what I knew about Sleep Token, when we were thinking about what we wanted to do with Lorna Shore, that was the goal. We wanted to bring a little bit more emotion into heavy metal music, and now they've done that and brought the singing into it too. Metal's now even more emotional because of the way he uses his beautiful voice, and I think that's what this genre has needed for a long time.

The truth is, from the moment I first heard Sleep Token, I knew they were one of those bands. Between their studio quality, their musical skill, and their ability to conjure up their own lore to incorporate into the music, I could see that they had the potential to be something truly special, they just needed that little push.

As soon as they got that with 'The Summoning', that was it - they were taking over.

First impressions are a big thing, and I think 'This Place Will Become Your Tomb' will always be my favourite album because of the way I first connected with it, but 'Take Me Back To Eden' is phenomenal. They have been able to get all of their emotion out in so many new ways on those songs because there's even more happening from a musical perspective. They've managed to strike the balance between heaviness and beauty perfectly and that's what we strive to create with albums. The goal is to create an album you can sit with, front to back, and feel the waves of emotion. A record to let yourself feel those things, and an opportunity to sit in isolation whilst you experience that journey.

It's a feeling that's amplified within Sleep Token's live shows, and I was able to catch them at Blue Ridge Rock Festival in Virginia. Lorna Shore were also playing, and we had a meet and greet scheduled for that day. It was scheduled to take place from 7pm until 7:30pm, and Sleep Token's set started at 7:30pm. I was a little antsy, because I know that meet and greets always overrun by half an hour or so, and they were the band I was most desperate to catch.

I was sitting there, it was 7:29pm, and the meet and greet line was still as long as it had been when we'd started. I started to hear 'Chokehold' playing in the distance, and I felt so sad.

People online were messaging me to tell me that Sleep Token were playing, and I was like, 'I know! I can hear them, but I'm stuck here!'

That's where it started to set in how freaking massive Sleep Token were becoming. They're one of the biggest metal bands that I'm aware of right now, and there were so many people watching that set. They refer to their live shows as rituals, their fans are the congregation, and the stage as a place of worship. It's something that could easily seem tacky if a band did it with little consideration for the details, but they're so committed to what they do.

After about three minutes, as I heard 'Chokehold' coming to an end, I stood up and said, 'Alright everybody, I've got to go. I'm so sorry, but if you know me, you'll understand'. The people who come to our meet and greets know how much I love Sleep Token, so they were like, 'Dude, go!' I sprinted out of there, leaving the rest of the band still doing the meet and greet, and made my way over to the stage. I thought I was the only one who wanted to see their set, but ten seconds into running I turned around and saw Of Mice & Men's singer, Aaron Pauley, following me. We started running through this huge crowd together, and everybody was so excited. I'm not the type of guy to leave a meet and greet early, but I needed to witness that set. It was an act of true love!

Even when they post on Instagram after shows, the captions are always like, 'The ritual has been completed in Copenhagen'. They totally absorb themselves in the spiritual aspect, physically, visually, and sonically. It's a brand, and they completely own that brand. They've made it exactly what it is, and they stick to it.

When I saw them, they had four people onstage doing harmonies with them, and they just stood there in their cloaks.

They didn't move throughout the entire set, and I began to picture it as a church choir at the side of the ritual. The whole experience does feel super spiritual, and they don't just give 50 per cent to the theming, it's 100 per cent. People feel the emotion, see the way they embody this ideal, and hear this incredible music - and I think that's why people are so ready to absolve themselves in this spiritual moment.

Everybody has a different connection to every song because of the different things everyone goes through in life, but they get to experience all of that in a place where everybody else is feeling something too.

Vessel's vocals translate into their live experience so perfectly, too. His screams are even better live than they are in the studio, and he still sings beautifully, which is so impressive. I was genuinely doubtful that he was going to be able to hit all of those vibratos and do all the other crazy vocal work he does on the albums, but he hit every note. Sometimes, he doesn't even hit the notes that he does on the studio versions, but he hits another note that is equally as stunning. He's a true performer.

You can tell a lot about a band from their live performance, but as a band in the modern age you also have to put a lot of thought into your promotion. The way you come across on social media is important, and the way that people perceive you is largely down to how you come across online. That's why I've always been fascinated by Sleep Token choosing to keep the identities of their band members a secret, refusing to do interviews and placing the focus on their visual identity.

I definitely think that's played a part in their success, because it's allowed the music to take centre stage. I remember when I was first talking to the rest of Lorna Shore about Sleep Token, they told me about the lore behind the band and that the members are all anonymous. That was before 'The Summoning' came out, but since people have caught on there have been some serious investigative deep dives, so l'm pretty sure the internet has found out who Vessel is.

I didn't look that up though, because personally for me, I always really appreciated the fact that they were totally anonymous. I like the feeling that Vessel is just a voice in the ether. You can hear it, but you can't classify it as being the voice of any one person, it's just this intriguing mystery. I've heard a lot of people say that it reminds them of when they first got into Slipknot because when a lot of people I know first listened to that band, nobody knew who was behind the masks. They were just a bunch of dudes making music with no outside perceptions, but then obviously people found out. I think that Sleep Token have that similar allure for a whole new generation, but sadly for me that mystery was shattered when I met them after a show.

It was great to meet them, but I also really didn't want to know who they were. I loved not knowing and I think that the anonymous aspect of what they do plays such an important role in the impact they're having on the heavy metal world.

It's a bit of a double-edged sword because everyone wants to know their identities, but once you do know - you miss the anonymity.

There's something special about the way they're putting their music out into the world with no need for individual validation, and I think it takes a lot of guts and confidence in what you're creating to do what Sleep Token are doing.

Usually, you almost want everyone to know who's in the band, because often that helps push you forwards. If you have someone in your line-up who's been in a well-known band before, you want to use that name to get yourselves out into the scene more. Sleep Token aren't anybody, and that takes a lot of courage and humbleness to do. There's no predisposed idea of what their music is supposed to be or what it's going to be, and that's part of the magic.

It's something that also comes out in the lore, the symbolism, and the cryptic clues that Sleep Token scatter throughout everything they do. There are Reddit threads dissecting every single word in the songs and analysing each pixel within their visuals, but it's not something I've had the chance to fall into just yet.

When I first listened to 'This Place Will Become Your Tomb', I could only find one or two articles about Sleep Token online.

They were basic articles explaining the idea of the band and what they were trying to do, which I thought were cool, but I never really looked it up again.

Over the last year or so, it seems that these conversations have spiralled. People are coming up with these different ideas about the band's story, and there are all these hints appearing constantly. I don't know any of the Easter eggs yet. I'm still just fascinated by the music and their wicked aesthetics, but I love that they've got people talking. It's become this kind of community around the band, and as someone who grew up in this scene, seeing artists who are able to foster that feeling amongst fellow music fans is such an incredible thing.

I think that's one of the reasons why Sleep Token have been able to find success on such a wide level so quickly, because there's a constant conversation about them. If people aren't talking about their music, they're talking about the lore and the stories behind it, or they're talking about the potential identities of the band members. They have this perfect package in place that lends itself to a world class metal band, but they're achieving it at such an incredible speed.

They thought out every single element of this band before they even started, from how the melodies work with the vocals, to the emotion and the quality of the sound. A lot of people put out music that sounds like they're hitting a trash can, and whilst they might have really good singing over the top of it, you can't ignore that trash can. Sleep Token have got incredible production value though, which is even more impressive when you consider how versatile their sound is.

It's so well thought out that you hear new things in each song on every listen. If you listen to 'Take Me Back To Eden', the title track of their third album, there's an allusion to a particular part of 'Chokehold', and it's details like that which make their production so unique. They wanted to make sure that it came out perfect, and maybe - like all musicians I know - they think they could have made certain parts of it better in retrospect, but I honestly can't imagine how.

Between the versatility, the emotion that people feel when they listen to it, the heaviness, the quality, and the songwriting, Sleep Token don't cut any corners anywhere. That's why they're already playing these huge, career defining shows, and putting out music that's changing people's perception of heavy music as a whole. It's so exciting to be a Sleep Token fan, and I just want them to write even more mind-blowing music and play even bigger places because they truly deserve it.

The bigger the places that they play, the better they're going to sound live. They're already playing arenas over in the UK, and with the size of those venues I just know they're going to sound absolutely incredible. They're reaching heights much higher than most metal bands that I know, and the bigger they get, the better their production value is going to be all round.

'Take Me Back To Eden' only came out earlier this year, but I already can't wait to hear them put out more music. lf what we heard on album three is the direction that they're going in, I'm very optimistic to see what the future holds for Sleep Token. I imagine at one point, they're going to make it on the radio - and honestly it could happen sooner rather than later. I knew it when I first heard them, and I'm even more certain of it now - they're going to be huge.

#tumblr if you don't post this again after i've spent over two hours on this so help me istg #sleep token #sleep token worship #will ramos #lorna shore

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stuffeddeer · 11 months

Note

rock band member dazai where he’s often in the media for drama between him and his previous ex band partner and you happen to run into him (anonymously!) on a chatting app. eventually his “personal conflicts “ he tells you about him and a ex friend start to align a lot with a certain famous singer’s tabloid scandals, so you bite the bullet and ask if it’s him or if he is just going through the same exact specific events dazai is. he ends up revealing his identity and you end up getting backstage tickets to his shows and he ends up just as obsessed with you as you are (chuuya is pissed that somehow that shitty dazai got a partner before him)

its u.

Dazai’s heart rate picked up at the two grammatically incorrect words that popped up in his notifications. You’d been so close to figuring it out for weeks; Was today finally the day?

wdym

Right: play dumb. There’s no guarantee you figured out who he is, so he just needs to stay calm.

Sure, week after week he’d tell you stories from his life that popped up in magazines and circulated around online the next day or so, always causing you to come back and flaunt it in his face that your favorite guitarist had done it “bigger and better” (even though the stories were the exact same). You frequently pointed out similarities in them (being him and… himself) to the point where he almost saved and told you several times, but something always held him back. Maybe he should just finally rip the bandage off.

A photo message came in. It was a screenshot - a screenshot of a picture Dazai had sent you. In the background had a bright red circle around something small. He zoomed in, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Couldn’t you just type it out? What a hassle - oh.

Yeah, he should’ve listened when his manager told him to pick it up and display it properly.

The image was a bird’s eye view of his hand, flashing his fresh coat of nail polish and his rather messy wooden floors (and his cute orange halloween socks). Nothing too damning upon first glance. Sure, you’d mentioned that your favorite band’s guitarist had painted his nails the same color, but that was mere coincidence, right?

No. Because this lazy moron couldn’t put things away, in the top left corner of the photo - the area circled in red - showed an opened package with the platinum record his band was gifted for their most popular song. Why would he have that if not a member of the band himself?

He looked up from his phone blankly, staring at the package still nestled on the side of his room. The only difference from the photo is that it had been pushed slightly to the side since then, stopping him from tripping over it. What a stupid mistake; Dazai had always been much more careful than this (except when he wasn't).

dude

u let me gush to u ab URSELF????

im embarrassed

Dazai smiled. Well, at least things weren’t awkward.

It had been a few months and you and Dazai were happy to talk in person now that he didn’t have to hide his face. You’d been backstage at many of his shows, meeting his bandmates and spending time in person. It had honestly been so much fun, but sometimes Dazai missed the cat and mouse game he’d been playing when you were unsure of his identity - back when you texted him rumors and articles about his own life, saying how crazy it was that your favorite artist went through the same things as him.

He’d woken up earlier than he wanted to due to the myriad of calls blowing up his phone. “What..” He grumbled, not even bothering to check caller ID. “Who is this?”

“You asshole! You got a fucking partner before I did? And they’re hot, too! No way they settled for you,” Chuuya continued to grumble while Dazai put him on speaker phone, tuning him out. Whatever he was yapping about didn’t matter once he noticed a notification from you.

do u know this guy? he seems to be goin thru the same things u r…

A link is included, leading Dazai to an article with a picture of him and you. The first thing he notices is how smitten he looks with you, causing him to blush very faintly as he smiles to himself. Is that really what he looks like around you?

Rockstar Dazai Osamu Finds New Fling - Or Maybe More?

More, definitely more.

“Are you listening, asshole?” Chuuya shouted from his speaker. “How’d ya get a partner before me?”

Dazai smiled, saving the paparazzi shot onto his phone. “My height, definitely.”

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missmonsters2 · 2 years

Text

—LIBEROSIS | SIX

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Right. Now things are going well and Wednesday should be basking in the vindication of it all. But now there's other things that keep her up at night and it's maddening. Wednesday used to never care and now she wished she cared a little less.

Warnings: Pining & Angst. Dramatic!Wednesday. Enid, is focused on her boat. Thing, is the GOAT. Xavier, just expects no peace.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: Wednesday: things are nice right now. I should create more problems :|

Part Five

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Liberosis: Noun. The desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's a certain bliss when things go well. It's like a well-thought-out plan that came to fruition, bearing the fruits of desired results.

It always brings Wednesday acute satisfaction.

She should be basking in all the glory and victory that her actions have brought her—to know that her suffering wasn't for nothing.

Yet, as Wednesday sits out near the lake under the shade of a willow tree while reading a book, she feels—discontentment.

Winter has long passed, and Wednesday misses the weather.

The day was warm and sunny, with a slight soothing breeze—terrible. On top of that, everyone seemed to have gathered around the willow tree, trying to relax under the shade. She had Enid and Yoko on her left, yapping like chihuahuas. Xavier, Ajax, and Eugene sat a few feet in front of her, playing some kind of game.

On her right, you sat a foot away, chatting with Bianca and her fellow sirens next to you. The conversation she'd be listening to hadn't been anything of interest, but Wednesday supposes that Bianca wouldn't spill her plans for the Poe Cup race with everyone else around.

Every so often, Enid would lean over her, trying to say something to you, and it would make Wednesday stiffen uncomfortably.

"Wednesday," Enid frustratedly sighs as she tries to lean over Wednesday to say something to you. "It'd be so much easier if you switched seats with me. You're just reading anyway! You can do that at the edge."

Enid starts to move to get up, but Wednesday turns her head and glares at her roommate. "If you so much as try to force me out of my optimal seating, I will dump all your nail polish over the balcony."

Enid gasped, hand to her heart dramatically as if it was the worst thing she could ever hear.

"Really, Addams?" Bianca asked with a sardonic expression. "You've lost your touch on the threats."

Wednesday raises her brow at her rival. "Enid is unique and stupidly no longer fears my homicidal threats. I have to get creative with her to instill fear."

"What's so optimal about that seating anyway?" Enid grumbles, but Wednesday see's the blonde looking at you with a smirk.

"The shade," Wednesday answers briskly. "This is the only spot without a speck of sunlight getting through."

You suddenly laugh, grabbing everyone's attention. You look over to Enid and smile. "Why don't you and Yoko come and sit in front of me?"

"But I want to lean my back against something," Enid whines with a frown.

"If the boys move in front of you to play their game, I'm sure Ajax would be happy to let you lean against his back," you smirk while Ajax looks at his girlfriend happily and nods.

"But we're going to be in the sun," Xavier complains.

"Count yourself lucky," Wednesday looks at the artist, her face deadpan. "As much as I adore the aesthetic of ghosts, the complexion doesn't suit you."

"Fuck you," Xavier gives her the middle finger. "I don't want to hear this from someone who looks half-dead all the time."

"I've spent my free time in cold lockers," Wednesday looks back at her book. "What's your excuse?"

Xavier grumbles in reply, but the three boys get up to readjust so Enid can sit peacefully in front of you and resume her conversation.

Wednesday relaxes more comfortably now that her left side is free. Wednesday was side-sitting, her knees both on one side, facing away from you as she held open her book in front of her face with one hand. Her other hand rests against the grass between the two of you.

Soon enough, the chatter resumes and becomes static noise to Wednesday, and when it does, she stiffens. You've placed your left hand down against the grass, and the very tip of your middle finger brushed against Wednesday's.

You're talking animatedly with Bianca and Enid, and no one else seems to notice Wednesday's inelegance. It seems no one is paying attention to her at all anymore.

After a few moments, Wednesday swallows. She looks carefully at those around her, ensuring they're all lost in their own conversations. There's something that she particularly wants, and she should simply do it.

After all, she's gone through enough emotional suffering because of you, and the last few months have shown her that she's evolved enough to hunt down the desires she didn't think she'd ever have.

Yet, fully moving her hand to grasp yours seemed more difficult than solving murder mysteries.

Wednesday shifts, hinting at you what she wants.

Nothing changes as you're too lost in your conversation with Enid.

Wednesday purses her lip in annoyance. Perhaps it was a mistake to have Enid move in front of you.

Wednesday shifts again, the tip of her middle finger brushing against yours more intentionally. The hint was very obstinately clear now. Or, it should've been.

You don't budge.

A thought drifts through Wednesday's mind. She has lamented over you, suffered because of you, chased after you. The least you could do is take her fucking hint.

Just grab it, Wednesday tells herself. Grab it and crush it—

You shift, sitting straighter, and move your hand to fan yourself from the warm weather.

Wednesday doesn't know why you'd ever think she's enticed by the sun.

She detests the sun and its warmth.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday sits at the pond's edge, staring out into its vast, clear reflection. Little fireflies hover near the surface, dancing their way back and forth. Her face is strained, her eyebrows furrowed in their natural way, and her lips pressed in a line.

"Oh, you're here."

Wednesday turns around and sees you entering from behind a tree. She nods in acknowledgment. "Of course," she plainly replies and then demands, "why are you late?"

You smile at her, and it both irritates Wednesday and delights her.

"Henry wanted to show me his mindscape," you reveal. "He's been excited about it all week, so I thought I'd go see it now rather than during my free period. The verdict is that he might need some work because precisely nothing changed or happened."

You sit next to her, grinning at her blank face before you fall onto your back, staring at the moon.

"Why not during your free period?" Wednesday asks as she kicks the side of your shoe, signaling to turn onto your back. You turn over with a puff of breath, focusing on your wings to come out and unfurl.

Wednesday watches in interest as she always does. She anticipates when they'll fully heal, and she'll get them to see them fully stretch. She feels titillation at the thought of them spanning wide enough to block out the sun.

It occurred to Wednesday then that one; she was looking forward to something that seemed so…frivolous and, frankly, embarrassing. Second, Wednesday believed that your presence in her life would be a more permanent fixture.

The image of her mother pops up in her head, and she feels unwell.

"Well," you drag her out of her thoughts. "You have fencing at that time, right? I thought I'd come watch your match against Xavier."

Wednesday is initially silent, feeling something stir in her stomach at your words. She applies the salve leisurely and thinks about how it doesn't matter how fast or slow she administers it because you won't be running off anywhere after.

"It won't be anything special," Wednesday monotones. "Xavier will pathetically lose after seven and a half minutes."

You laugh. "Well, I'll enjoy the seven and half minutes of it then." You hum, your wings trill as Wednesday ruffles some of them to apply the salve. "Tickles," you mumble, and Wednesday feels the comfort of it.

Soon enough, Wednesday finishes, and you turn around and sit back up.

"Anyway," you interject and smirk. "Since you'll only be fencing for about seven and a half minutes, why don't you play hooky with me?"

"And do what exactly?" Wednesday asks flatly with her brow raised.

"Hm," you hum, tilting your head. "I wanted to see the Jericho town but Larissa won't let me leave the school grounds for the next couple of weeks."

"Oh?" Wednesday raises her brow in intrigue but then follows up with, "You call Principal Weems by her first name?"

You nod. "I mean, yeah, in private only since she said it was okay. I guess it's weird to call your guardian Principal Weems after hours."

"On the contrary," Wednesday tilts her chin to the side. "I believe we should refer to our birthmakers by their name to establish distance."

You roll your eyes at Wednesday, trying to hide your smile.

"Why is she trying to keep you locked in this penitentiary?" Wednesday asks.

"Jericho grows these flowers—draeconiums. They're usually harmless and have a short bloom lifecycle," you tell her. "But I believe this year they bloomed under an eclipse."

Wednesday recalled the eclipse last week. Enid had been so excited about it and made plans with everyone to watch it.

It was boring.

"Anyway," you continue on. "If that happens, draeconiums produce a certain sap in its stem that's very, very poisonous to faeries. It's the only thing that can cut a faerie's wings off."

"Poisonous sap?" Wednesday's brows furrow.

You nod with a hum. "The sap hardens and it's harder than any metal to exist."

Wednesday processes the words. "Interesting."

You laugh. "Don't tell me you thought just anything could cut off my wings."

Wednesday's silent.

"If wings that could grant wishes could be cut off that easily, I think my kind would've gone extinct long ago," you chuckle.

Wednesday's not really thinking about that (although she was under that impression). She's thinking about how hard this sap would be to come by and probably how faeries would make it their business to find any draeconium saps to keep the outside world from having it.

And she thinks of your mother and burns.

"So, I don't think I'll be stepping out of the academy anytime soon until the draeconiums wilt and the sap isn't potent anymore."

Wednesday looks at you and nods. It would be prudent to keep you away from things that could end your existence.

"I wonder what we could do," you muse and then shrug. "I guess we can just hang out."

It was something in the way you say it that formed a knot in Wednesday's stomach. "You sound bored," she keeps her tone flat. "Do you grow tired of my presence already?"

"If I was then I suppose I'm a masochist for inviting you to play hooky with me," you look amused. "We don't have to do anything special to enjoy our time. Why would you think that?"

"I told you I wasn't dating material."

You raise your brow at her. "We're not dating."

You continue speaking about different things, and Wednesday just sits there silently, letting you ramble on.

But later that night, she lies awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling with her arms folded over her chest, restless.

Of course, there was no basking in the glory and her victory of chasing you. She had caught you, and now she didn't know what to do with you.

Grow closer and become more like her mother, or distance herself and—

Wednesday couldn't even finish that thought.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your eyes narrowed on Wednesday's form.

You should be angry, considering how Wednesday seemed to be distant lately. She still spent all her time with you, but it was like her mind was someplace else.

Even now, Wednesday was staring out the balcony with a larger frown than usual.

But you're not angry, especially since you've had your fair share of avoidance with her. You suppose you're lucky Wednesday still lingered around even if her mind was elsewhere.

"Wednesday," you call softly. She looked at you, her face blank and unrevealing.

"What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong," Wednesday answers, and it's terse, and it's biting you to warn you to stop asking questions.

You shuffle closer and watch as Wednesday tenses, leaning away from you. You'd thought it would hurt your feelings, but you see something past the discomfort in her eyes, and it makes you push forward.

"Wednesday," you repeat. "You can tell me what's wrong." The way you say it is soft and unassuming, and it offers security instead of pressure.

Wednesday reluctantly shares what's on her mind at your probing. It takes her a few minutes, but eventually, she opens her mouth.

"Despite achieving the results I wanted when it came to you, I worry about the fact that I become more and more like my mother every day. It's disgusting."

It was so unexpected that you bit your tongue to refrain from laughing. You're pretty sure that though Wednesday more than tolerates you, she would still kill you.

You try to come up with something to say, but you can't help but tease her.

"You worry a lot for someone who has yet to go on a date with me."

Wednesday glares, and you chuckle. You feel relaxed knowing what the issue is.

"What exactly do you worry about when it comes to being like your mother?"

"That I'll fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family."

"Well," you smile dryly. "I think we're okay on the biological family front unless some kind of a miracle happens with the reproductive system. Otherwise, I think you quite enjoy having a little bandwagon of misfits to call your chosen family."

Wednesday's jaw only locks tighter, but you continue on.

"Regarding being a housewife, do you really think the person you'll be with—me, in this hypothetical scenario—would expect you to be a housewife?" You raised your brow. "While I personally think there's nothing wrong with being one, I know that isn't you, and nor would I want you to be one if that's not what you want."

You slowly reach out to grab her hand, smiling when Wednesday allows it. "I hope the person you choose to be with will work with you in building a home that you both take care of together. Although—once again—I, in this hypothetical scenario, can't cook and may burn everything to the ground, which I know you find arson thrilling, but I promise you it's not romantic in that situation."

Wednesday's lip twitches, and you smile wider knowingly.

"As for falling in love," you sigh. "I'm not really sure what you want me to say, Wednesday."

The raven girl tenses up at your words, immediately frowning. You stroke her palm with your thumb, attempting to soothe her.

"I struggle with it sometimes too," you admit. "I believe most psychologists would say every problem we have in our life can be led back to our childhood or our parents."

"But I think, at the bare minimum, we should get to choose how we love and what relationships we develop," you look into Wednesday's dark eyes. "Your parents seem like lovely people—" Wednesday scoffs—"but I don't quite think we'll ever behave like them."

You pull Wednesday to sit next to you on the ground, slumping and leaning your head against her shoulder. You link your arm through hers, and Wednesday finds it easy behind closed doors.

"You think too much, Wednesday. There's no rush, and we've made it this far, so we should take our time. I'm not going anywhere."

Wednesday relaxes, and you can feel it against your body. She feels a lull of peace settle over her as her mind settles.

Still—

"And if after time passes, what shall you do if I decide to leave?"

You look at her seriously. "I will have no choice but to accept it, but not before pushing you down a flight of stairs of at least 20 steps and framing it on Bianca."

"Bianca?" Wednesday raises her brow at you.

"She'd be the most believable suspect," you tell her, smiling as you joke.

But it's probably the most romantic thing Wednesday has ever heard, and she looks at you with a soft gaze you've never witnessed before.

"Promise?"

PART 7

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

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allthegothihopgirls · 5 months

Note

What kind of music do you think each of the Batfam members listen to? (Besides Jason who is obviously a Mitski stan)

OH I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!!!!!! i'm gonna tryyyyy and take this seriously

starting off i think alfred's music taste influences just about everyone in the manor to some degree. lots of classical music flowing through the hallways at most hours of the day, the music reminds everyone of home. i think it's a general rule of thumb in the family that if you want to locate alfred, just follow the sound of mozart.

drawing off a bit of canon, i think dick listens to a lot of popular 80s stuff. the cure, joy division, the b-52s, billy joel, abba etc. that one panel of him humming 'here comes the sun' also comes to mind, i think he'd enjoy the beatles. however i do think he'd also be into some soft rock, maybe just a little bit of more intense stuff too. fleetwood mac's a big one i think he'd like. i've mentioned in a post before how i think dick would enjoy foo fighters in his post-robin rebellion phase, and i stand by that.

i do also enjoy his insane love for david bowie in the live-action titans adaption... very dear to me. i take that as gospel. also have a slight feeling he's a bit of a jazz guy once in a blue moon.

however i don't think he'd be overly into music, (the artists though, that's a whole other thing), i think he's also just happy to flick on the radio to some random dated station... or, don't crucify me... the top hits of the day.

i think jason's taste is a bit more refined. he's the #1 victim of alfred's classical music agenda, sitting in the library he's got something like 'lacrimosa' looping endlessly.

unlike dick who's got a happy-go-lucky approach to music, i think jason feels into it a bit more. he's joyriding through the city and listening to slipknot, sleeping with sirens, misfits etc etc. he's just looking for background music, maybe he's playing dashboard confessional, or... hear me out... lana del rey. he's out on patrol and is playing 90's rap through his helmet's bluetooth.

i think he'd also enjoy amy winehouse, the boys next door, no doubt, alice in chains, and maybe a bit of lorde. he's definitely into more indie bands too, local stuff. makes his own mixtapes and you'd only be able to recognise like 20% of the bands by name. he's also the one batfam member who i think would go to war to defend the songs he feels deeply about.

tim's a bit more difficult to narrow down, but i'll throw 90s alternative out there; jimmy eat world, oasis, radiohead, weezer, pearl jam type stuff. i'm also very set in my ways about femme-pop tim, which is definitely more out there and harder to justify. in terms of that i think beyonce, rihanna, and britney spears are the big three he'd enjoy.

i just think he likes anything with a beat tbh, it's not so much about genre or the actual song, as it is about the mood. similarly to dick, i don't think he's typically meticulous with defining his taste or anything, just happy to listen to whatever's making him feel good.

as for damian, i think anything with soothing instruments entices him. mainly classical, but not just limited to european stuff, i'm thinking of tyagaraja, toru takemitsu etc just off the top of my head. he'd also like elton john, queen, and other older artists with a polished vocal and avantgarde nature. i'm also going to put cartoon soundtrack music into the mix, specifically songs from adventure time. for whatever reason i'm also super drawn into the idea of him being big on kpop, although i don't know enough about the genre to make specific assumptions.

steph (ik she's not exactly batfam but i'm including her anyways) listens to predominantly female artists, and oscillates between very uplifting pop stuff, and.. societal hatred. so i think on one hand she's very into marina and the diamonds, kesha, and olivia rodrigo, but also paramore, hole, fiona apple, lorde etc. in contrast to all of that though she's also a huge fan of the beatles' solo careers, particularly paul mccartney.

cass is into a lot of the music she's done for ballet performances. the music for the snow queen instantly comes to mind as something that would be a favourite of hers. this might be a bit out there, but i think she'd enjoy grimes a lot, mostly because of how enriching it is to just listen to the sounds of, without having to pay much mind to the words she's speaking (grimes never really makes a lot of sense anyways). apart from that i don't think she really listens to all that much music, maybe some 2000s pop she hears on the radio driving around with steph.. i did enjoy the all star gag in batgirls (2022).

babs has a pretty similar taste to steph i think (i believe steph may have gotten some of her taste from her). she's a big fan of stevie nicks, gwen stefani, maybe the cranberries, hole, dolly parton, janet jackson, lauryn hill, and lesley gore. i'd like to say she enjoys a bit of 70s eccentric too, the doors, blondie, bowie etc. i don't think she's overly fussed with what she's listening to, as long as it doesn't sound too watered down and modern-pop like.

and i don't really know enough about duke to make assumptions, so i'm just going to let him sit out of this one. i also don't think bruce has any time for music, except for a bit of classical to help him concentrate every so often.

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 month

Text

tuesday again 8/20/2024

a little light this week bc i had a fairly wretched week, medically speaking

listening

hozier's nobody's soldier would have been on every 8tracks mix for every character. THEEEEE blorbo song of all time to the point i am already annoyed at the thought of seeing it on every spotify mix. fuckin owns tho. very fun mod sixties heist taste to the horn arrangement

youtube

reading

thank you philip.

polished off the Marauders (2019-2022) comics. i liked the first volume way more than these three-- they didn't quite deliver the same quality of art or swashbuckles-per-minute. also this was probably not a great choice for someone who has forgotten what little she once knew about the xmen, even though they came at the beginning of a reboot.

why did i read these? mostly bc they were readily available or with short wait times at my library and my bestie is making me watch all the xmen movies. a girl gets curious about comic books sometimes

surprisingly, i came across this one from the Pocket integration on the firefox new tabs

McDonald likens the functions of Spotify to Google Maps. “Google Maps doesn’t do the exploration for me, but it’s helpful if I go somewhere,” he says. Rather than taking us on guided tours, it provides the tools for us to navigate somewhere new. Much as it shows us what’s nearby and how to get there, and flags notable landmarks others have visited, Spotify helps us access most music, lists global listening trends, and introduces us to artists similar to those we already know. But it’s communities that help us home in on a destination Spotify can help us explore.

part two of breaking down infamous academic paper mill Hindawi and why it was bought by Wiley anyway bc they did seemingly no due diligence, bc as a whole they do very little actual work in the publishing process.

i have included a very long quote bc it is one of only two things that made me genuinely laugh out loud this week (the other was phil unsticking a claw from the couch by backflipping herself out)

One issue of Wireless Communications and Mobile Computing from 2022, edited mostly by Hamurabi Gamboa Rosales, took an average of about 20 days to go from initial submission to revision submission. This is not unlikely, it’s impossible. The easiest way to explain this is with an analogy. Say there’s a pothole outside your house, and you call the council. You tell them ‘there’s a big hole in the road outside my house!’ The person at the other end, rather than tiredly telling you to fill out a form - which is what councils do all over the world, in my experience - instead yells ‘MOTHER OF GOD! WE’RE RIGHT ON IT!’ Twenty minutes later, a bitumen truck comes HURTLING around the corner of your street at full send, with the road workers hanging out the back of it, the driver leaning on the horn and yelling ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY! POTHOLE!’ They pull up outside your house, and you see the brakes go hot. But the guys don’t even wait for it to stop, they jump off while it’s slowing down, and they grab pry bars and a burner and a kettle of bitumen, and they start hammering out the edges, pour the bitumen and start slamming it with hammers almost at the same time. In about six minutes, the hole is filled and flattened, and they admire their work for about four hundred milliseconds and SCREAM off the way they came. No sooner has the truck disappeared, then your phone rings - and it’s the council worker from before. ‘POTHOLE! *pant* *pant* FIXED! Happy to be of service!’ *click* That’s how likely the entire editorial process taking 20 days is.

watching

i don't understand why the third xmen movie isn't named x cubed. it extremely is not their last stand there are like a dozen more movies to go. gun to my head i could not tell you what happened in this one. whatsherface did look good as hell though

and now for the movie i actually want to talk about, Monkey Man (2024, dir. Patel). imdb says:

An anonymous young man unleashes a campaign of vengeance against the corrupt leaders who murdered his mother and continue to systematically victimize the poor and powerless.

i am so so so lucky that my favorite kind of fight scene — fast, brutal, right spaces with improvised weapons-- is fashionable. pour it DIRECTLY into my open mouth

i think i generally agree with a broad sweep of reviewers here when i tell you that this movie is gorgeous and grossnasty at the same time, there are a lot of ideas that aren't all quite resolved, and i am much more interested in why it has a hell of a lot of ideas (part of why they don't all get resolved).

patel's first movie, it feels very much like a movie of someone who isn't sure they'll be able to do another one, so throw everything you've got in here. a sort of famously rocky production and shoestring budget, but you would not know it. the club scenes are especially dripping in glitz and, like many stage productions, have a lot of clever editing and strategic deployment of mirrors and repeats. there's a fight scene with hanging mirrors near the end where the mirrors can't have been more than fifty bucks each but it looks SO fucking sick.

i am much more willing to go to bat for this movie and ignore some of the rough edges bc it is so refreshingly earnest, and despite the style references, is very focused on being its own thing. at some points it's going to feel like The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis) bc every movie made in a post- The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis) world is going to feel a little bit like The Matrix (1999, dir. the Wachowskis). or like when the above gif happened in the movie it did not make me want to turn it off and go watch the first john wick.

people who live in india or are part of the diaspora are a little cranky about the political parties of the film, which had to be neutered for release. while i don't think i would have grasped all the nuances even if we did have the original cut, i think it's likely some of the characters would have resolved a little cleaner if that original intent was still there.

why did i watch this? i think patel is easily as hot as tumblr darling mifune. while drafting this post i got distracted sooooooo many times trying to pick the perfect gif. some of them are too hot!!!

playing

fallow week

making

just stayin alive! just livin the fuckin dream!!!

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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cowgurrrl · 8 months

Text

Lavender Girl

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A field trip [4.7k]

Warnings: financial stress, school fight, June once again introduces an ex, having a muse is creepy and weird, flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, June putting her art history knowledge to work

Most days, you're a good teacher. A teacher that students want to eat lunch with or inadvertently include in their silly TikToks. Most days, you're patient and kind and only have to raise your voice a handful of times, if only to be heard over the blanket volume level of teenage conversation. Today is not one of those days. "Guys!" You yell, pausing the music on your computer and turning to look at your class, obviously annoyed. "We're supposed to be talking about Picasso. I don't know why I'm hearing so much conversation about lunch." It's a lie. There was a fight between two students at lunch. It'd also been the topic of conversation in the teacher's lounge, but still.

"Miss, we already talked about Picasso!" One of your kids bemoans, and you raise your eyebrows at them.

"So, if I asked you right now, you could tell me what historical event his painting Guernica is supposed to depict?" You ask. The entire class goes silent as you wait for a response that never comes, and you sigh. "Please, do your work."

The day started with getting yet another email from another gallery, this time from down south, telling you they loved your work but not enough to showcase or buy it. Then, a text from your manager letting you know that paychecks will be late because of technical issues with the system, even though you're already beyond broke. Then, a sad text from Andie about how she's feeling homesick and misses you and wishes you could get on a plane to come see her. Then, to top it all off, an email from your ex, Henry, popped up the second you pulled into the school.

Hey, long time, no talk! I hope you're doing well. I wanted to reach out and let you know I've got an exhibition going up later next week and wanted to invite you to the opening. It's about-

You didn't read any further, anger and a wave of past emotions drowning you before you could. You and Henry were together all throughout college. You met during a freshman art class and were inseparable after that. He was tall, sensitive, and had a penchant for listening to country music when he worked, leading to many delirious nights spent crooning to Emmy-Lou Harris together. He surprised you with new paint and spontaneous trips to scenic parts of Texas to fuel your inspiration. You were happy for a long time. You even thought you'd marry him at one point. He wanted to be the next young, groundbreaking artist, making you his muse, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were also an artist. Your work would go up in galleries and exhibitions, and everyone in your small program would gossip about the two of you. "He's so talented. It's insane," you heard one of your classmates say once. "And she's so beautiful."

The compliment dug under your skin and stayed there as your relationship failed. You didn't want to be a muse anymore. You stopped letting him paint you in various states of undress and started asking for more alone time to work on your own stuff. You went from being the perfect, polished doll he could position however he wanted and started living in your paint-stained jeans and old, ratty shirt. You started arguing more and more, first about little things like why he left his paint water cups everywhere, and then about big things like your decision to pursue teaching and the "inspiration" he found in an impressionable freshman. He suddenly moved out after graduation without a word, leaving you to nurse your wounds in a half-empty apartment for the rest of your lease, and you hadn't heard from him until this morning.

There's something more than the sting of hearing from him all these years later that bothers you. You're a high school art teacher struggling to make ends meet, and he's doing exactly what he set out to do. He's getting his work in front of his eyes and receiving praise for it. "Why do you wanna be a teacher when you can just be an artist?" He asked you one morning as you studied for your certification exams. "Or, at least, an artist's wife."

"And what if I'm not good at that?" You asked. "Then what? I'm just supposed to be your muse for the rest of my life? Have kids to fuel someone else's inspiration and have no time for my own work? Wither away while you go on to make art and give talks and become a cynic? Fuck that."

You stand by what you said, even all these years later, but there is an irony in that, even as a teacher, you don't have time to do your own work. Still, fuck that. The bell rings and signals the end of another class, and you quickly stand as students start packing up their stuff. "Okay, guys. Remember, your art history essay is due in two weeks! I'm excited to read all about everything you've learned since we started this unit. I love you, and please make good choices." You announce, hoping that at least some of them are listening to you, as they spill out of the classroom and the next students stream in. Ellie's sweet face is a welcome reprieve when she walks in.

"Hey Bellie! How's your day going, kiddo?" You ask, and she smiles. You'll swear up and down all day that you don't have favorite students, but if you did, Ellie would be one of them.

"Good. I have my signed permission slip for the art club field trip." She says. After your experience with Joel outside the bar, you couldn't sleep and knocked out all the field trip paperwork before falling asleep on your couch. But you weren't safe from his lips and broad shoulders, even in your subconscious.

"Oh, my hero! I've been meaning to remind everyone about those. Thanks for getting that in so quickly." You say as she hands the paper to you, Joel's scribbly signature at the bottom. Somehow, you're not surprised that the box indicating he wants to be a chaperone is ticked. "Perfect. Your dad knows when the field trip is?"

"Yeah. He wrote it down on his calendar and everything." She says, rolling her eyes fondly, and you laugh.

"Well, good, because I'm gonna need all the help I can get when I'm dealing with you guys."

"Hey!" She feigns offense as the bell rings, signaling the end of the passing period, and the last of your students comes running in. Ellie takes her seat near the front, and you grab your silly, colorful pointer to talk about Guernica, which is still proudly displayed on the board. After a quick art history lesson, you release them to work on the projects they've been working on for a week now. They still have a few more days before it's due, so more than half of them are slacking off quietly, which you're fine with. As long as you get a finished assignment at the end, they can do whatever they want.

You play quiet music as they work to help them focus and answer some emails. One email that catches your attention is from the parent of one of your students, Dalton, who's an amazing football player but is less than passionate about art, to say the least. You emailed his dad to let him know he was missing some assignments and could still turn them in late for only a slight penalty, but if he turns in nothing at all, you'll have no choice but to fail him. You also CC'd the football coach so he'd know the academic standing of one of his star players. Needless to say, you've been subject to a few not-so-nice emails from all parties involved.

Once you're done firing off another round of emails, you decide to step away from your computer so you don't have to see the next reply until absolutely necessary. Walking around the room to answer questions, give opinions, or just hear what's happening in students' lives always makes you feel better. In one period, you helped a handful of students put the finishing touches on their projects, heard the latest gossip, and talked one of your girls out of sending a nasty text to the boy who just broke her heart. And they say teachers aren't important.

The second you get a little bit of peace during your planning period, your phone buzzes with a notification. Given all the notifications and messages you've received today, you're hesitant to even pull it out of your pocket. But curiosity wins, and you open your phone to find a text from an unsaved number.

Is there anything I should bring to the field trip? Snacks, gum, alcohol?

You laugh to yourself and start typing a message back.

Alcohol won't be necessary, but it might be good to bring some lunch and a few snacks. I think we're gonna try to have a picnic or something at the museum.

Yes, ma'am.

You still feeling up to chaperone? Teenagers are no joke.

Do I need to remind you that I've raised two? I think I can handle a few more.

Oh, I can't wait to see this.

It can't be that hard, right?

On the day of the field trip, it turns out to be that hard. The only adults accompanying twenty teenagers to the museum are you and Joel. They're excited to be out of school and doing something new, but you can feel your migraine starting before you even get on the bus. Thankfully, the ride to the museum (and the traffic) calms them down, and they're more manageable by the time you arrive. A curator meets you outside the front doors and begins by walking your group through the outdoor sculptures, giving a little bit of history of the museum and the pieces themselves. The kids ask insightful questions and take turns snapping photos or even sketching a rough outline of the piece before moving on to the next. You stay at the front of the group while Joel manages the middle and back, silencing kids with a stern look. You fight a smile when you catch him and Ellie lingering at a sculpture, whispering to each other before he urges her forward and takes a sweet picture of her smiling in front of it.

After the initial walk of the grounds, you stop to have lunch in a sunny garden and listen to the kids gush about their favorite part so far and what paintings they're most excited to see inside.

"Miss, what's your favorite thing here?" Kayla asks.

"I like Dream Village by Chagall. If you find it before me, you'll have to let me know." You say. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Not yet. Maybe I'll find it today." Kayla says.

"I like that attitude!"

"Kissass." Jacob coughs, and you both give him a look. You can feel Joel's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you stare at Jacob.

"What's my policy?"

"Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Yep." You say, and he sighs.

"You can be anything you want to be, but you're not allowed to be a dick." He mumbles.

"Exactly. So, please, be nice," you say as you fish around in your lunch box for something. "Here, have a cookie. It might help make you feel a little better." He mutters a little thanks and unwraps it, already in a better mood after one bite, and you smile.

"You just carry around cookies, waiting for a kid to be in a bad mood?" Joel asks, and you turn to look at him. He's wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans with sunglasses sitting atop his head, but you think it might be your favorite thing he's worn in your presence. You like it when he wears color.

"It was my cookie, but he needs it more than I do," you shrug. "Besides, things like that are a great morale booster. It's hard to be grumpy when you've got something sweet."

"I'm inclined to agree with you." He quips a little too smoothly, his eyes flicking across your face and down to your lips, and you feel your cheeks getting hot. Thankfully, all the kids have returned to their own conversations and couldn't care less about what the Adults are talking about.

"You're relentless." You whisper.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers back, and you sigh. If you were a stronger or better person, you might be able to think fast enough to come up with a response, but you're not. So, you just look at him and rack your brain for something to say but come up empty. "That's what I thought." He smiles and offers you his sweating Dr. Pepper can as a peace offering. You roll your eyes at his smug look but take a sip anyway.

Once everyone is done eating, you all stand and make your way into the museum lobby, the kids already chattering about what they want to see.

"Okay, you guys are free to roam but please, please, please remember that you're representing not only the school but also me. Be respectful and kind, and please don't act like you've never been in public before, okay? Go, be free." You say before the kids split off into their little groups with their obligatory activity in hand. Ellie stays near Joel, only a little shy, until Kayla turns around suddenly and waves her on.

"Ellie, c'mon!" She says. Ellie takes a few steps in her direction before turning to look back at Joel.

"Go. I'll be okay." He says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go. Have fun." She doesn't need any more encouragement after that and skitters off with the rest of the kids, leaving you and Joel alone in the atrium.

"She's doing really well." You tell him even though he can clearly see for himself.

"Thanks to you."

"All I did was give her a push."

"Take the credit. You deserve it." He says, his lips pulling into that award-winning smile.

You fall into silence as you walk through the different galleries, Joel never too far behind you. Sometimes, he'll start at the opposite end of the room and work his way down until you meet in the middle, making a deliberate effort to bump your shoulder or hand as he passes. Other times, he'll stay right next to you, and, for some reason, it doesn't bother you. You like being so close to him and feeling his eyes work over the piece like it's a puzzle he doesn't quite know how to work. When he can't stand the quiet anymore, he'll whisper a question to you about the artist or the history, his breathing fanning out across your neck and making the hair there stand on end.

After moving through a big part of the museum together, you and Joel end up at the same painting as the dull hum of voices fills the space between you. You smile to yourself, practically hearing him trying to find something to say as he stands there and observes how the lines of bright colors follow each other. Some are stark and almost resemble lightning in how they move around the canvas, but others are muted, blended together with careful precision and patience. It's hard to imagine what West Texas could've been like in 1953, but this makes it a little easier.

"What's this one supposed to mean?" Joel mumbles, leaning ever so conspicuously into you.

"I can't tell you." You mumble back, and he finally turns to look at you head-on. You meet his eyes with an amused smile, and he shakes his head at you.

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"I can't tell you what art is supposed to mean to you. I can't tell anyone that."

"But, you're a teacher."

"If you're asking me for an art history lesson, I'd be happy to help, but that's about all I can do for you."

"'S cruel and unusual punishment."

"If art and culture are cruel and unusual punishment, why'd you sign up to chaperone?"

"Maybe I wanted to see my friend," he says, bumping you with his shoulder, and you laugh a little too hard. "What? We can't be friends? Is there a school policy against that, too?"

"Nope, no school policy. I just," You pause and revel in how enraptured he looks at every movement, pause, and breath you take. "I already have friends, so..."

"Oh, and you're 'fraid of bein' too popular?"

"Famously." You say, and he chuckles next to you. You go back to staring at the painting quietly with him so close you can feel his body heat. You're the one to break this time, knocking him with your shoulder to get his attention again. You didn't need to. When you glance at him, you see his focus is on you, not the painting. "It's Texas. Canyon, to be more precise. Up by Amarillo where there's nothing but cattle and desert. O'Keeffe taught out there for a few years and wanted to paint something that showed how big the West is. It's supposed to make you feel like you're two feet tall and seeing the sky for the first time. For her, it might've been the first time in a long time she'd gotten to see a sunset that big. So, she painted it so other people could enjoy sunsets like that. It's like a love letter."

"How d'you do that?" He asks once you're finished explaining, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"Do what?"

"Make little things seem so beautiful." He answers easily, like you asked him what color the sky is. You don't know what to say. What are you supposed to say to something like that?

"'S just what art does." You shrug and break away from his gaze to look at the painting, if only to not feel him staring into your soul.

"No, it's what you do to it. 'S why those kids love you so damn much. You make everythin' feel like a masterpiece, even the little things." He's not flirting. He's not trying to persuade you to do one thing over another. He's genuine and heartfelt. You swear you would start crying if you had a little less sleep. You take a deep breath and lean into him for half a second, just enough to feel his body against yours, before standing upright again.

"Thank you."

"It's what friends are for," he says, leaning into you in return. "I should make sure they haven't seized the museum or anythin'."

"Oh, I can do it. You're a guest."

"And you work too hard," he stops you. "Take a break and enjoy what you love. The world won't end if you take some time for yourself." If ever there were awards to be given out for sweet talking, you think Joel Miller would win all of them.

"Okay," you say, and he walks behind you to move on to the next section. "You really wanna be my friend?" You ask before he can fully pass behind you, looking at him over your shoulder. He smiles devastatingly, light sparkling in his eyes, and nods.

"I really wanna be your friend." He says softly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. He lingers for a second or two before finally making his way to the group of students, leaving you to scrutinize the painting you've been staring at for God knows how long.

The day crawls to an uneventful close, with you forcing all the students to take a picture in front of the museum for the yearbook. Joel takes your phone out of your hand and all but pushes you in the photo, and your students lovingly welcome you into their little group. In exchange, you grab Joel's phone and take cute pictures of him and Ellie for their own memories. They smile almost identically, and Ellie makes a fake annoyed face when Joel kisses her temple. Your fingers brush against each other when you hand it back, and for a second, you can feel the callouses from his job. It feels like unlocking a new piece of him or a new quirk.

Too bad this isn't a date. Too bad nothing can ever come of this. Too bad you had to meet this way. Too bad. Too bad.

The ride home is quiet and full of the clinking of backpacks and new souvenirs. When you get to the school, parents are waiting in the parking lot with fast food dinners and excited ears to hear all about their days. Almost everyone immediately slinks home, tired and happy, before you can even get close to the school doors. Almost everyone. Joel and Ellie help you carry your backpack and some things you bought for teaching purposes at the museum into your classroom. The school is virtually deserted, and you return to your room to find all the lamps flipped off and mostly positive notes from the sub.

"Dad, what are we gonna do for dinner?" Ellie groans as you sit in your chair and open your email quickly before you can pack up the rest of your stuff. Their dinner debate becomes background noise as you find your inbox full of annoyed messages from Dalton's parents, coaches, and even Principal Martinez regarding his grades. Under all that vitriol sits Henry's half-read message about his gallery opening, and you feel the perfect bubble of your day burst around you. Joel and Ellie seem to realize it because they're both quiet when you tune back into their conversation, and you turn in your chair to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks, and you snap out of it, putting on your best teacher everything-is-fine face.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just some emails. It's not important." You wave her off, but Joel isn't so easily convinced. He thinks for a second before pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them to Ellie.

"Go get some practice driving." He says, jerking his head toward the door, and Ellie's eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Just bring the car to the front, and don't hit anything!" He says, but she's already taken off with the keys and her stuff in an excited whirlwind. You laugh at her enthusiasm, and Joel leans against one of the desks near you, crossing his arms in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Your whole face fell when you opened that computer."

"It's nothing."

"If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to tell me if somethin's wrong otherwise I can't help you." He says, and you fight a smile.

"I don't know how you're gonna help me with this one." You say. He bumps your foot with his and gives you a pleading look. Big brown eyes on men like him should be illegal, you think.

"Talk to me." He begs quietly, and you take a deep breath.

"When I was in college, I dated this guy. He was an artist, too, and we were like the little power couple of our program. Things ended kinda badly and abruptly, and I hadn't heard from him since graduation until last week when he invited me to his gallery opening. I really don't want to go alone because, honestly, I haven't been able to get anything showcased in years, and I'm embarrassed. Plus, he broke my heart and made me feel like shit for a few years." You can't stop the words from falling from you once the dam is broken, but Joel doesn't flinch.

"Well, you've got friends to go with, right?"

"I do," you say. "But I want to invite you."

"Oh." He says, seemingly unintentionally.

"Oh." You repeat. "You can say no. I just thought... since we're friends and all now."

"I just... I don't..." he struggles before finally giving in to what he wants to say, what you think he's wanted to say all day. "I don't think I'm smart enough to go to somethin' like that. I don't know anythin' about art. I don't even know how to dress for those kinda things."

"Nobody knows anything about art. Not really, at least. Especially not Henry."

"You do."

"Then I'll stick with you all night and feed you lines about composition or some shit," you say. "And you just wear a nice shirt and some slacks. Maybe a suit jacket if you're feeling snazzy. It's really not as big a deal as people make it seem. We'll go, drink wine, say something about the colors, play nice, and then we'll leave. I'll have you home by 9:30. Earlier if you really hate it that much." He rolls his neck like he's rattling something around in his head or thinking about your offer, and all you can do is watch him and the way his Adam's apple pressing against the delicate skin of his throat. You're convinced he's gonna say no.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He finally asks, and you laugh.

"Not a date."

"Sounds like a date. You even promised to have me home to my girl at a reasonable time."

"Fine, it's a friend date."

"A friend date?" He raises his eyebrows at you, and you nod.

"It's perfectly normal to go on friend dates, Miller. You're just behind on the times."

"Seems like I am. Maybe you can bring me up to speed during the gallery opening?" He says, and your shoulders drop in relief. "I'll pick you up if you agree to help me not look like an idiot."

"You won't look like an idiot."

"Not with you there, I won't." He says, and you want to laugh, but you also want to tear up a little at his kindness. It's been a long week.

"Thank you, Joel. Really. I owe you." You say, and he nods.

"'S my pleasure," he says. For a minute, you two just stare at each other in your empty classroom like teenagers with an obvious crush. You think that's what you feel like. You think that's all you'll ever be able to feel for him. "I should go. I've got an impatient teenager waitin' for me."

"Yeah. Go get her some dinner, and I'll text you the details." You say as you stand to walk him out. He stands to his full height, opens his arms, and approaches you. You didn't think you were hugging territory, but as his arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but hug him back.

"Goodnight." He says into your hair, lingering for another moment before disappearing as fast as he appeared.

"Goodnight," you say. With that, he starts walking to the open door with a smile stuck to his face. "Hey, Joel," you call before he can step over the threshold, and he turns around to look at you. "Art is for everyone, and even if it wasn't, you're more than smart enough to enjoy it."

"Yes, ma'am." He says with a half-salute and a wink before stepping out of your classroom. You let yourself rest against your desk and take a deep breath. Finally, you let yourself pull out your phone and read the rest of Henry's email detailing the time and place of the gallery.

I hope you can come. It would really mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you and even though things ended the way they did, I still love you.

See you soon,

Henry Hall

"Fuck that."

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blasphemous-lies-and-deceit · 2 months

Note

"calloused hands in soft hands" from the hand holding prompts for GerryMichael?

@melandrops asked: comparing hand sizes?

Two prompts that fit so well together, I couldn't resist.

"Why's it so cold in here? Michael whined as he took his seat. The theater was incredibly air conditioned, which would certainly be nice after a warm summer day, but it was autumn, and he could tell it would become unbearable very quickly. Gerry shrugged as he handed Michael his popcorn and drink, shrugging off the leather jacket he always wore, regardless of temperature.

"Maybe they're expecting a lot of people," he suggested, taking back the snacks and handing Michael his jacket instead. Even in the shadowed theater, he could see Gerry was blushing faintly. "And a lot of moving around, once everyone starts doing the Time Warp."

"Oh, right, that's a good point." Michael pulled on Gerry's jacket, unable to hold back his grin as he did. It didn't fit him perfectly, but wearing it always gave him a thrill. It had only happened a few times so far, but he loved it each and every time. "Are you going to dance?"

"Maybe," Gerry evaded, sitting down in the seat next to him. He scrubbed at the lipstick "V" that marked his cheek, glancing over at Michael. "Are you?

"Of course I am." Gerry's arm was resting on the armrest between them, and that was the most perfect opportunity that he couldn't pass up. Michael reached out to put his hand on his, ever so casually, and watched Gerry's face turn even more red as he fought a smile. His hand flipped under Michael's so he could hold it properly, palm to palm and fingers laced together. That was just lovely. "It's tradition, you know, just like the rest of the audience participation. You have to dance the Time Warp." Michael couldn't hold back a giggle before continuing. "It's just a jump to the left-"

"Don't you start," Gerry cut him off with a laugh. His knee was jittering restlessly, and Michael hoped it was in excitement. It wasn't every day someone had their Rocky Horror cherry popped, and he was honored to be there with Gerry for it. "I think I already know most of it, from listening to the soundtrack."

"There's a big difference between listening and experiencing." The theater was growing louder as more people filed in, so Michael leaned closer to Gerry, pressing shoulder to shoulder with him. "It's a lot of fun with an audience who really gets into it."

Gerry nodded, looking around at the other groups around them. "So I've heard," he said, a touch of excitement leaking in. It might have been for the show, but maybe also for rarely-felt sense of belonging that Michael was also feeling. The usual audience for these events was shamelessly queer and alternative, and Michael basked in, watching Gerry's face as he took it all in. He wondered if Gerry had ever experienced it before, and that was why he was looking so wonderious and delighted, like he'd finally found something he hadn't known he was missing. He really knew the feeling.

Michael looked down at their hands, hoping Gerry hadn't noticed his staring. Gerry's hands were very textured, covered in tattoos and faint lines of scars. His fingers were tipped with cracked nail polish, a pair of heavy rings proving a cool contrast against his skin. Michael could feel calluses pressed to his palm and against his fingers, harsh but welcoming, and wondered if they were from Gerry's harsh lifestyle, or from his art, built from the talented way he wielded a brush. It was a very lovely artist's hand, and Michael loved seeing it in his.

He also loved how Gerry touched him with those lovely artist hands. Michael flushed as he remembered the last time they had slept together, and Gerry had touched him so beautifully, bringing him such wonderful pleasure. Perhaps after the show he could convince Gerry to go back to his again. Staying in bed with him all weekend sounded just perfect to him.

Michael flexed his fingers, and Gerry did too, keeping their palms pressed together. The size difference between their hands made him giggle, which finally pulled Gerry's attention back to him. He glanced down and smiled too, stretching out his fingers in a vain hope of reaching Michael's fingertips. There wasn't a chance. "You hands are so big," Gerry chuckled.

"Yours are so small," Michael countered, closing his fingers around Gerry's entire hand. They weren't really, but in comparison to his they seemed to be. Pulling their hands up, Michael pressed a kiss to the back of Gerry's hand, watching him turn incredibly red at the action. "I like them."

"I...like yours too," Gerry returned awkwardly, obviously flustered in a very lovely way. It was simply adorable, and Michael wondered how else he could make Gerry flustered like that.

The theater darkened further, eliciting cheers from the crowd as the show was about to begin. Michael tucked Gerry's hand under his chin, content to hold him close for as long as he could. At least until it was time to do the Time Warp again.

#the magnus archives #tma fanfic #gerry keay #michael shelley #gerrymichael #doorkeay #rebelwriting

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joesalw · 8 months

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Not her coming out with an album with a long ass title. She wants to be Lana so bad. SZA was robbed for AOTY, Kelly Clarkson was robbed for best pop VOCAL album (I mean, c'mon now).

Scammys are constantly snubbing Black creators in the major categories. Only 3 black women have won AOTY in the 66 years of the Grammys existence. Two of those albums were cover albums of mainly white acts ( Unforgettable...with Love by Natalie Cole and The Bodyguard Soundtrack by Whitney Houston). The last BW that won AOTY was Lauryn Hill's "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" which won 25 YEARS AGO.Even Mariah Carey hadn't won this category. What baffles me the most is the fact that the most awarded artist in the Grammys history hadn't won a single one AOTY and only has 1 (ONE!) award from the big 4 (Record of the year, Song of the Year, Album of the year and best new artist). She'd won it for Single Ladies. Out of all the hit songs she has, that was the only one that got awarded (imo one of her worst songs).

Renaissance got snubbed last year. And this year we see a tendency of streaming artists (Ariana's newest song comes to mind first) following the Renaissance's sound and house music's becoming trendy again. The Grammy voters even said 'We didn't vote for Beyonce on AOTY because she's won too many already'. Too many my ass. This woman's won only one Grammy outside of the genre category. And the genre categories they put black and brown people in are truly outrageous. No matter what they do, no matter how many new sounds and sub genres they invent, they will always be boxed into R&B and Urban categories. I mean, her country song from 'Lemonade' album 'Daddy Lessons' got snubbed in the country category and got rejected a nomination for being 'not country enough'. Bitch, please. From the first five seconds it's obvious to even non-country listener that it in fact, is a country song. And people that vote for this stuff are supposedly professional musicians and music experts. These same people box The Weeknd's music into R&B categories when he's clearly making pop music.

Jay-Z's speech was just a cherry on top for me. After Swift in her acceptance speech said that " I want to say 'thank you' to the members of the recording academy for voting this way but I know that the way that the recording academy voted is a direct reflection of the passion of the fans" while smugly polishing the Grammy, this man went on stage to get his lifetime achievement thingy and completely obliterated the same institution that Swift was ass kissing just a few minutes prior. He went on and said: " We want y'all to get it right. At least get it close to right. And obviously it's subjective because it's music and it's opinion based. [About his wife] She has more Grammys than everyone and never won AOTY so even by your own metrics that doesn't work. Think about that: the most Grammys, never won AOTY. That doesn't work. Some of you are going to go home tonight and feel like you've been robbed. Some of you may get robbed, some of you don't belong in the category. *everyone gags* No, no. When I get nervous... I tell the truth. But outside of that, we got to keep showing up. And forget the Grammys for a second, just in life, you gotta keep showing up until they give you all those accolades you feel you deserve, until they call you chairman, until they call you a genius, until they call you the greatest of all time". To me that sounds like "POC have to work twice as hard to get half as far". Not a big Jay fan but the speech was great. I'm sure he got his ass whooped on the way home for saying that.

Then the Grammys have proven him right by celebrating white mediocrity by giving Midnights AOTY. The outrageous thing is, only three Black women have won AOTY, she now has four. And many talented black people don't have a single one. The bodies of work that transcend genres, cultures and languages. The bodies of work that have much better musical components and lyrical content. The bodies of work that can stand the test of times and sound fresh and new even 10 years after their release. Artists that aren't afraid to step out of their comfort zone, experiment with genres (Whatever Swift calls 'experiments' don't go outside of the pop genre (Country-pop (Red), synth-pop (1989, Lover), electropop (rep, Lover), acoustic pop and alt-pop (Folkmore)). Beyonce, Kendrick Lamar, TLC, Missy Elliott, Usher, Kanye (his artistic side), Alicia Keys, Lil Wayne, Frank Ocean, and many more black music creators deserve their flowers. They are the ones that are inventing new shit and setting trends in various genres of music, they are the ones that put the most effort into their presentation and live performances. I'm sick and tired of the major showbiz institutions overlooking black, brown, asian, indigenous excellence. These people deserve to be rewarded for their hard work in the same capacity these institutions reward white (anglo) people. I'm sick of people celebrating white mediocrity and overlooking art of different cultures, ethnicities, races.

Now she's gonna be insufferable for at least another year. I've been listening and enjoying her music for the past 5-6 years (not a fan but a casual listener) for the lyrical content of her songs but she's not a poet in any way. Lana's been a staple for me in that regard. And the fact that she dragged her on stage to have that "Adele to Beyonce" moment just gave me the ick. I wouldn't be surprised if Swifties are taking Jay-Z's speech as a sub for TS's wins (haven't gone on twitter yet). I mean, if the shoe fits. Also wouldn't be surprised if she herself took it as a jab to her ego. She's also clearly drunk and possibly on some ❄️ (just my opinion). The only deserved AOTY she has is the Folklore one. And don't get me started on her EMMY win. The fact that a visual masterpieces like Lemonade and Homecoming lost to Carpool Karaoke is absolutely absurd to me. Also the fact that her visual album for her "Lion King" project wasn't even nominated when every single one of those in the category were comedy specials is especially infuriating (If anyone's interested, some of the music videos are up on Youtube). And Swift comes along and swoops up hers in a bullshit category with no actual nominees? Nah, things don't work like that. Or at least, they shouldn't.

Anyway, SZA and Lana were robbed. Victoria Monet's won Best New Artist, Miley got her first win, Phoebe Bridgers went home with the most wins of the night and everyone only talks about Taylor Swift. I'm patiently waiting for the tower to fall. She desperately needs a reality check. This drunkard didn't even acknowledge Celine Dion who handed her the award. I mean, she didn't even look at her. But proceeded to have a cringe and unnecessary handshake with Jack Antonoff. You're in a professional setting, behave like an adult and save those handshakes for the afterparty or do it behind the stage after giving a speech. She proceeded to drag Lana on stage to the point where she was trying not to fall. At this point I'm convinced that swifties have brainwashed her into the thinking that the nicest thing she can do for someone is grace them with her presence. Ana Clara's family serves as a great example.

Her hair was a miss, she looked like she was wearing a wedding gown and the black gloves didn't help. Her make up made her look old. Her accessories were excessive and tacky and it looked like she was also wearing hip pads, shoes were giving late 00s-early 10s. Overall, fire the whole styling team. You're a global superstar that's a billionaire and you look cheap as fuck.

TL;DR : She shouldn't have won. Lana and SZA were robbed. She once again made the night about herself and her narcissism peaked in the moments where she'd accepted her awards. Black creators are criminally overlooked. She ass kissed the grammy voters and Jay-Z shamed them just a few minutes later and was right. She needs to get rid of her stylist, hair stylist and make up artist. Another drunk award show. Beyonce should have at least one AOTY. Sick and tired of people celebrating white mediocrity in show business.

Sorry for the long ass paragraph, just felt like it was a safe space to vent 💜

you guys can vent all you want. I'm here for it🤏

#anti taylor swift #swifties dni #scammys

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