#real fans save bands

[lovelylesbians]

after watching the feeling of falling upwards i can’t help but have my mind go back to this iconic michael tweet and be comforted knowing that the love we as fans hold for @5sos is returned by them just as strongly

#5sos #michael clifford #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #the feeling of falling upwards #5 seconds of summer #real bands save fans real fans save bands

[smelyalata-m0n1c4]

idk if you asked me a year ago if i wanted to die i totally would've said yes but ever since foundations and the reunion tour i've been so much happier it's crazy

#real bands save fans #mcr5 #mcr #mikey fucking way #summer of like #party poison #big round butt #idk how to use tumblr #big fart

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

#what if they’re both secretly famous and clueless about each other #this is called ‘Upstaged’ #part two soon #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #baseball player steve harrington #famous steve harrington #meet cute #saved your life trope #famous eddie munson #rueswriting

[astonmartinii]

i don't wanna be funny anymore | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem podcaster!reader

i don't wanna be funny anymore, i got a too short skirt, maybe i can be the cute one. is there room in the band? i don't need to be the front man, if not then i'll be the biggest fan

based on i don't wanna be funny anymore by lucy dacus (this song speaks to me, i love lucy (she's also AMAZING live))

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 341,203 others

yourusername: hey girl hey, new ep coming at you fast this friday all about rotting. as the twilight weather rolls in and it becomes the season of all too well, we'll talk about rotting, how we can do it right and how not to lose your mind this october (a cautionary tale, i've already lost mine)

view all comments

user1: my queen hands down five stars already

user2: the bag is so real and the way i know it's a tote that does NOT stay on your shoulder

yourusername: it's the enchante tote, shameless plug for my man

danielricciardo: you singlehandedly sell out my totes every time baby

user3: not this actual fan erasure 🤨

user4: babe be real, she has a massive platform and there was a direct correlation between the first time she plugged a tote and the fact that they sold out that day you guys just love being mean

user5: i'm mean cause i don't want some leech taking credit for dan's hardwork and his fans?

user6: he fucking said it? you guys grasp at straws every time so try and justify your agenda against her

maxverstappen1: idk what rotting is but i'll still listen to every second

yourusername: thanks maxy, though i'd say going on the sim for up to 14 hours of the day is bordering on rotting

maxverstappen1: productive rotting !

yourusername: yes, i guess your sweet little treats are trophies?

maxverstappen1: that would make sense (don't tell my trainer but i do enjoy the little fruity drinks from starbucks)

user7: yall wanna say we're mean but she's literally invalidating max, saying he's rotting on the sim is so invalidating to everything he went through when he was younger

user8: how did we get there? this grasp on straws has to be studied... from a joke about the sim to invalidating abuse?

user9: i honestly thank the lord for dan and max because they're so supportive no matter the shitstorm that yall throw at y/n everyday

user10: literally max is even listening to podcasts... real friends, i hope one day she feels confident enough to come to races

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen, georgerussell63 and 1,034,239 others

tagged: yourusername, enchante

danielricciardo: buckle up, enchante is going to the rodeo 🐎

view all comments

user13: i shall be breaking the bank

user14: dan so smart, he looks like a good boyf for including y/n but didn't include her face

user15: yall ever listen to yourself talk, you need to be put in time out for real

yourusername: we all know the phrase, save a horse, ride a...

danielricciardo: daniel?

yourusername: YUP

user16: ugh there are children who are fans of daniel, she's so gross

user17: do you ever get tired of doing all of that mental gymnastics?

yourusername: can't wait for the tote drop for this collection, yall WON'T be disappointed

user18: yes, i will always trust mother's tote recommendations

user19: anyone who carries that much shit knows what makes a good tote

yourusername: this one has survived two dostoevsky book, an unreasonably large water bottle, a laptop and microphone

user19: thank you ma'am

maxverstappen1: real love is dressing as a cowgirl for your needy boyfriend

yourusername: the things we do for love (i actually had so much fun)

user20: here y/n goes doing all the publicity, but never going to races, clearest gold digger attention whore wag of all time

user21: surely a real attention whore would go to every race to get the screen time and papped and all that jazz?

excerpt of y/n y/ln's podcast where she addresses her absences in the paddock.

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 412,349 others

yourusername: life recently lol, the enchante tote is taking a beating

view all comments

user24: she's such a crybaby making dan use up an entire portion of his interview to coddle her

user25: she doesn't come to races cause of people like you invading her privacy and being rude and here you are ... proving her point

danielricciardo: pretty lady i can't wait to be back in your arms

yourusername: waiting outside the airport now

danielricciardo: we haven't even taken off yet babe

yourusername: i know i just miss you and can't wait to see your handsome face

user26: dan must be saying this shit at gun point cause there's no way he actually thinks she's pretty

user27: are you clinically blind? cause we must not be seeing the same girl

maxverstappen1: the aperol rawdogging the bag, you are SO brave

yourusername: living life on the edge, is this that thrill all you drivers talk about?

maxverstappen1: i may drive at over 200 kmh but i'd never risk my tote like that

yourusername: is it worse that i have a jar of olives in there as well, one drop and it's so over for me

maxverstappen1: OLIVES? remind me NOT to hug you when you pick us up

danielricciardo: if you want that hug you gonna have to get in line boy

user28: she picks them up from the airport? that's so cute

user29: someone tell her the gross girl aesthetic isn't cute

user30: babe don't worry no matter the aesthetic you have daniel will never want you x

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, christianhorner and 982,344 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

maxverstappen1: finally went on my bff's (no 1 in the world) podcast after i finally convinced her yall ain't shit - oh and dan was there for emotional support x

view all comments

user31: SO ICONIC

user32: ep on repeat forever, they're so funny

yourusername: for a man who hates podcasts, you were a star i think the memes hit you hard

maxverstappen1: i enjoy the PROFESSIONALS could you imagine doing a podcast with lando

landonorris: why am i catching strays

danielricciardo: i wouldn't say that too loud, i got about 20 texts as soon as you posted this demanding i ask y/n to be on the show

yourusername: oooooooooo the girls are fighting

landonorris: so can i come on?

yourusername: i'm sure we can schedule something

maxverstappen1: don't say i didn't warn you y/n

user33: ugh now she's going to whore around the rest of the grid

user34: for real wasn't dan enough? she's not even pretty enough to whore herself out

user35: you people have no reading comprehension cause you see how dan says yall are insane and yall keep proving him right

danielricciardo: i'm so proud of you pretty girl

yourusername: i love you cowboy

danielricciardo: forever obsessed with you

user36: i'm living for y/n basically telling all these insecure weirdos to fuck off

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 603,451 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: who was gonna tell me these cars are loud as shit irl

view all comments

user39: someone tell sky to stop zooming in on her i don't pay to her her ugly ass

user40: cry your heart out bro everyone else is happy

danielricciardo: oops i think you're my lucky charm you now have to come to every race ever sorry not sorry

yourusername: gosh i think that might be true - i'll be there! (but for real you are so so talented and don't need a lucky charm)

danielricciardo: i'm just so happy to share this with you, i love you so much, i'm sorry people have been so cruel

yourusername: people are passionate about you and rightly so, but i appreciate you protecting me baby

user41: imagine being this irrelevant and demanding protection in the paddock ... the audacity

user42: you finally came to the paddock and this is what you wore?

user43: she's wearing danny merch? if she didn't yall would have a problem with that as well so please just be quiet

maxverstappen1: i need you to come every weekend cause you're the only one drunk danny will listen to

yourusername: we had practice with all the wine tasting we did for his wine line

danielricciardo: i am NOT that bad

maxverstappen1: tbf it's usually him just crying about how much he loves you

yourusername: AWWWWWW (i also cry about how much i love you)

user44: gosh this is my favourite f1 couple

user45: hopefully now she has her dose of fame she'll fuck off

user46: HAVE A DAY OFF

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,451,677 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: as we're nearing our two year anniversary i wanted to say a couple things. one. i love you so much. when you came into my life i was in a bad place and you truly taught me to love myself again and how to love my sport again. you're the most amazing woman ever, the kindest soul and the most beautiful girl ever. two. i am so thankful for the support i have, i do not allow the disrespect some have given y/n. you guys have no real perception of relationships between athletes and fans. you do not have the right to comment on y/n in the way you are. you take extremely low blow and have the gall to confront her in public as well. do not call yourself a fan of mine when you treat the people i love like this. my team will now begin to monitor comment sections and will seek to block and report accounts doing this. thank you and i love you y/n.

comments on this post are turned off.

note: hope yall enjoyed!! i love danny and i saw the danny ric honky tonk this morning and had to write about him. i'd also had this idea for a while but didn't know who to write for lol. please listen to the song i love lucy so much and the song is so relatable xx

also anyone who has requested - i am working on them (but as per some questions in my asks, as for right now i do not write for footballers, if i become less disillusioned with the sport (thanks chelsea) this may change)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #astonmartinii

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage show

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 5k

synopsis. you finally get to meet your favorite band and the lead vocalist takes a liking to you. He decides he shouldn't keep such a beauty to himself.

or

hobie fucks you in front of his bandmates

🍒・．❕warnings. exhibitionalism (sex in front of bandmates), p in v sex, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, oral (m receiving) drinking, smoking, save a horse ride a cowboy, public sex, hobie has a bit of a god complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, this is a bit toxic but gets sweet at the end y'all so hold on

Backstage Show pt.2

This was your dream. Ever since coming across a small underground punk rock band, The Mary Janes, you've dreamed of attending one of their concerts. Now you were here, your body pressed up against the side of the stage of the small venue, so close to your idols you thought you might faint. Your body was clad in leather, from your skin-tight skirt to the oversized jacket you had draped over your shoulders. Your shirt was torn, black, lacy bra exposed, a beg for attention really.

All of the members of the band were attractive and all had their individual groupies but by far the fan favorite was Hobie-fucking-Brown. Lead singer and bass guitarist. A tall, lean fellow with the most beautiful voice you've ever heard in your life. He was a charmer, a flirt, known for giving the occasion groupie a chance and the night of their life or dating one from time to time.

Your hands grabbed at the edge of the stage as the lights dimmed and everyone in the building began to scream including you. It grew even louder when the band came on stage, the girl next to you was screaming her head off, hoping to grab the attention of Hobie as the thick soles of his boots made the very stage vibrate under your hands.

You stopped screaming when you saw him. Your breath simply stolen away from you but you supposed that might just be the people behind you pressing as they tried to get as close to Hobie as possible. He was breathtaking. All his features were so sharp, from his cheekbones to his liner-framed eyes. You liked the lean muscle of his body, the way his spiked armband pressed into the muscle, how his torn up, sleeveless crop top revealed the valley of his abs and low-waisted pants revealed his happy trail.

You obsessed over the way he smirked at the crowd and sent them absolutely buck wild. He grabbed his microphone and adjusted it, raising it to his height so he could speak into it comfortably. "'Ow's er'ryone doin' t'night?" His accent is thick but not aggressive to the ears nor incoherent. The crowd goes absolutely wild including you, you scream until your voice is raw, hoping that maybe those pretty eyes of his will land on you.

"Er'ryone lookin' good t'night." His eyes scan over the crowd, making their way back to front, side to side. Then Hobie’s eyes landed on you, in all your fishnet, leather, and spiked collar glory. He paused for a moment, his tongue dragging across his pierced lips before the corner curled into a smirk. “Some lookin’ real good.”

And from then on, he had his attention on you. Sure, he certainly had everyone in the room on a leash and the few people in the front were able to hold hands with him for a few milliseconds and get a few acknowledging glances. But he made it clear that you were the one on his mind. He bent down and caressed your face with his silver decorated fingers while singing before moving on.

You grabbed your polaroid camera you had hanging off your side like a bag, using it to snap pictures of what you could only describe as the best day of your life. Everytime Hobie neared, another picture was taken and printed out on the spot. You barely let them develop before placing them in your bag.

Hobie noticed this and came back to you, sitting down with his legs hanging off the edge of the stage, pressed against your chest. “You havin’ a good time, luv?” He asked as his band began to play the intro to the next song. You were so mesmerized, so starstruck, that you couldn’t even formulate words. You didn’t trust yourself to speak because you knew if you tried, you’d say something stupid like you’re in love with him, you’d do anything for him. So you nod like you’re completely braindead, fawning over him. 

“Might I see ya camera?” He pointed to the device in your hand and immediately, you handed it to him without thought. You melt when he grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in. Hobie kissed you, his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips. It was a moment you never thought would ever happen to you. His lips were on yours and you knew this was your chance.

You kissed him back and let him slip his tongue past your lips. His tongue pressed against yours, a little ball piercing meeting the soft flesh of your tongue. With a little bit more confidence, you grabbed his shirt, slid your hands up his collared neck, felt his skin because you might never get to have this chance again.

He took this chance to snap a picture of the two of you kissing, letting it print out as he placed it back between your hands.

“Hobie! Stop fuckin’ around an get up here, mate!” His drummer called from across the stage with a hint of impatience. Hobie broke away from you with an annoyed sigh as he glanced back over his shoulder for just a moment. When he looked back at you, he offered one of his pearly white smiles. “You min’ stickin’ around aft’a the show fa me, luv?”

You nod, still not trusting yourself to say the right words just yet. Hobie pecks your lips, a goodbye kiss with the promise to see you again soon, before he stands and grabs ahold of his guitar to finish the show. You swore, if you weren’t in love before, you definitely are now. You were in love with the way he drew all attention to himself without even trying, so confident because he had nothing to prove. Undeniably sexy in every single way,

So once the show came to a close and the crowd slowly dispersed across the venue, most finding themselves at the bar for a drink. At first, you had no idea where Hobie was. The place was absolutely packed and the thought of anyone being able to take a single step without bumping into someone else was laughable. But it soon became clear when people began flocking in one direction, girls screaming out his name as he came around, asking for autographs on any part of their body they had to offer and he was happy to oblige. He went around signing people’s chests just above their tits and the bottom of their backs like his name was their tramp stamp.

He saw you between the swaths of people and smiled, wading himself between people to get to you. “There ya are, luv. Been lookin’ fa you.” Hobie tossed an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into the side of his body. He smelled of sweat and the musk of his cologne and you thought you might just cum from the smell alone. You looked up at his towering stature as he greeted other fans. His jawline was sharp, adam’s apple prominent in his throat, his lips thick and kissable.

Hobie looked back down at you. “You wanna go backstage wit’ me and my mates?” A long, slender finger came and wrapped around a single one of your braids. He was so charming, so easily able to persuade those around him to listen to him. He made those around him feel like they’ve known him for years, like you’ve spent your whole life together. 

Finally, you were confident enough to stop acting like you didn’t have a lick of intelligence. You slid your arm around his waist to return the same kindness of intimate closeness. “Of course.”

Hobie raised his pierced brows in slight surprise. “So you speak.” He teased you lightly, placing his hand on top of yours as you held his waist and pulled you closer. He began to lead you towards a door that led to backstage.”Wha’s ya name, doll?” He leaned in to you so he could hear you better as you say, “Y/N.”

He hummed softly. “Suits you. Pretty name fo a pretty girl.” He kicked open the door so he didn’t have to let do of you. He kicked the door closed behind him, making sure it was closed al the way before bringing you around a few short, winding halls until you reached their little hangout spot. All three others of his band were already lounging about, feet kicked up, with some bottles of whiskey and a joint being passed between them. The room smelled heavily of weed and booze but the aggressiveness of it didn’t bother you. You’ve spent your entire life in environments like this.

“Yo er’ryone, this is Y/N.” Hobie introduced you, finally letting you go once you were in an environment he was more comfortable in. They all nodded and greeted you cooly, probably already high. They were all friendly, complimenting you on your outfit or telling you they thought you were pretty in a way that didn’t make you feel uncomfortable while Hobie went to sit down in a dingy recliner next to a messy coffee table.

“Com’ere, pretty girl.” Hobie motioned you over to him and without hesitation you came, placing your things down on the table. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table and took a large swing of it as he grabbed your hand gently and pulled you into his lap. His hand was on your thigh, fingers slipping beneath the webbing of your fishnets. God, he was so sexy looking up at you like that. The way he gripped your thigh already had you growing wet at the thought of his fingers sliding beneath your skirt.

“Gotta be ‘bout the prettiest girl I done ever seen. Right boys?” He doesn’t look over the side of his recliner at them, just takes another swing of his bottle while staring up at you with eyes telling you exactly what he’s imagining now. You’re imagining the exact same.

They all agree with various sounds of approval, knowing not to tread too much on Hobie's obviously marked territory.

You shift in his lap, the wetness between your thighs growing evermore uncomfortable. Hobie leans forward and begins kissing along the side of your neck, his hand still possessively gripping your thigh. His lips graze your supple skin so lightly it sends shivers through every nerve in your body. "Hobie."

"This can stop. You just say the word." He made sure to let you know that you had no obligation to do anything with him. You appreciated the gesture but you would do anything short of murder for him. This was a moment you've been dreaming of for so long, you were scared that this very moment right here was a figment of your delusional imagination and you'd be waking up in your bed any second now.

But his lips kissing you was very real, his hand stroking your hip now was the realest thing in your world right now.

“You wanna drink, luv?” Hobie asked you, shaking the bottle in front of you. You were never much of a drinker but you didn’t mind a few sips here and there and you were sure you’d need some liquid courage for a moment like this. You reached out for the bottle but Hobie quickly pulled it out of your range and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Lemme do it. Get on ya knees fa me, doll.”

You don’t even think about refusing. Not an ounce of hesitation plagues you as you slide off of his lap and onto the floor in front of him. You get on your knees, leaning forward, back arched as you positioned yourself between Hobie’s legs. You thought you were probably flashing your panties to his bandmates but you didn’t care. How could you when Hobie drabbed your chin with those beautiful fingers of his, nails painted a solid black. “Open ya mouf.”

You do so. You part your lips and let your jaw hang open as he tips the bottle against your lips and lets the bitter liquid pour down your throat. He’s sure not to give you too much so you won’t choke. You close your mouth and swallow, looking up at Hobie through hooded eyes and long lashes.

“Go’ myself a good girl, didn’t I?” Hobie pet your head as you placed it on his thigh much like a pet who worships their owner. “You’d do anythin’ fo me, wouldn’t you?” He asks because he knows that you’ll undoubtedly say yes. You love the way he pushes your hair out of your face to get a better view of you as you look up at him like he’s more than just a man.

‘You’d do anything for your god too, wouldn’t you?” You ask him, making it very clear how you saw him and that there was very little you wouldn’t do for him. He was your god, your religion, your everything. You were a devout disciple, on your knees ready to worship.

Hobie smiled at your words. He liked you, knew from the moment he saw you that you’d be entirely worth his while. “Why don’t you show me how much you love ya god then.” He relaxed into his chair, slouching as he took another sip. His hand was in your hair, pulling you closer to the growing bulge in his pants. “Would you like to be the sta’ fo a bit, put on a lil’ show fo the rest of us?”

You glance behind you at his bandmates, all of them staring at you, waiting to see where this would all go. When you look back, Hobie’s staring at you with a raise brow. A question. Do you wanna? I won’t make you, luv. You drag your tongue over your lips, wiped clean of your lipgloss from his kiss earlier. You bit your lip and reached towards his belt to undo it. How could you turn down a moment like this? The thought of them all sitting there watching as you suck off their leader made your pussy tremble. You’ve always played with the idea of people watching. Tonight had to be a dream.

You undid the buckle of his belt and pulled it from its slot before moving into his pants. Hobie assured you to take your time as you reached into his pants and pulled him out of his restraints. He was already half hard in your hand, weighing heavy against your palm as blood rushed into the appendage.

You wet your lips again as you began to stroke him. Your delicate fingers wrapping around and pulling at the smooth, satin skin of his cock. He had to have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, nice, long, and veiny with a Prince Albert’s piercing sitting pretty and shiny at the tip of his cock. You salivated at the sight of it as it grew harder in your hand. You bite your lip and glance up at Hobie who’s already smiling at you. “Like what ya see?” You love what you see, wanted him to shove it down your throat.

Hobie takes over for you, grabs his cock and jerks it a little harder. Little beads of pearly precum dripped from his slit and rolled down the underside of his cock before meeting his hand. He takes his time, staring at you and that pretty face of yours that caught his attention in the beginning.

He tapped his length against your cheeks in a way that was almost degrading but you leaned into it, stared into his eyes as his bottom lip caught on his teeth. You let him smear his precum across your plush lips before parting them to let him drack his tip against your tongue.

“Got yourself a proper lil’ slut, didn’t you Hobes?” One of the other band members chuckle as you part your lips further and stick out your tongue. The others laugh with him including Hobie who takes up your hair in a makeshift ponytail and presses your head down, sliding his cock into your mouth as far as you could take him. “Gotta nice lil’ wet patch on ‘er panties.”

You found a guilty pleasure in the way they talked about you like you weren’t even there, an object of pleasure. Hobie used your mouth as his own personal toy, controlling the way your head moved up and down his cock, pressing to your limit, until you’re gagging and choking on him. He slapped your cheek lightly. “Eyes up here sweet’art.” You look up at him, eyes swelling with tears each time his length slid down your throat and triggered your gag reflex.

His head hell back against the cushion of his chair as he moaned lowly, “Relax tha’ throa’, doll.” His eyes never left yours no matter how good that pretty little mouth of yours made him feel. Hobie let his own mouth fall open as you took him in down to the hilt, your nose pressed to his pelvis. “Gooood fuckin’ girl.” He holds your right where you are, watching with a sadistic smile as you gagged. Your hands gripped his thighs to brace yourself, tears streaking your cheeks.

Hobie let you go after a few seconds and you fall back, panting for air with your lips slicked with saliva. The moment you caught your breath, you had your lips wrapped around him again, bobbing your head with an eagerness to please, to put on that show he was talking about. You are your back more, the outline of your pussy revealed behind your panties for his bandmates to gaze at.

“Keep goin’ jus’ like tha’.” Hobie was practically falling apart beneath you, his breathing hitching and his eyes barely open while he watched you take him down like a champ. “Fuck…ya killin’ me, doll.” His voice was breathy yet tireless and came out like a low rumble that only made you wetter. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad.”

But Hobie wasn’t ready to cum just yet as pretty as you’d look swallowing his cum. “Get on up fo me.” He pulled you back by your hair and you released him with a sticky pop of your lips. He made you to stand up between his knees and held you by the waist, his hands so large it made you seem small by comparison.

“Le’s put on a real performance.” He whispered to you with a smile that could only be described as devious. His hands were suddenly hiking up your tight little skirt to circle your waist, fingers between the netting of your stockings, tearing them open enough to create a whole right at your cunt. “Turn ‘round.” And you did, following every movement of his hands as they positioned your body. Until you were sitting on Hobie’s lap with your legs spread, feet on the armrests of his chair, panties pulled to the side so everything you held so dear was on display for his bandmates to oogle at.

Hobie wrapped an arm around your waist and used his free hand to slide his saliva-soaked cock between the equally soaked lips of your puffy little pussy that’s been screaming and begging to be fucked. You tremble as his piercing dragged across your sensitive little clit. “Already nice and wet. Din’t even needa touch ya.” He chuckled into the shell of your ear before kitten-licking it.

It was easy to slip in, hardly an resistance at all. You whimpered at the way he could so easily push that thick cock of his into you, at how he stretched your walls. You turned your face in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes of the men sitting on the couch across from you. They all watched intently, something predatory sparkling in their eyes at the sight of you.

“Uhn-uh, luv.” Hobie hissed out as he bucked his hips up into your little cunt that so eagerly accepted him. “Look at ‘em. Look at wha’ you’re doin’ to ‘em.” You turn your head to glance and find them all palming themselves through their pants. Shameful and embarrassed, you hide your face again and attempt to close your legs but before you can, Hobie’s are already pinning them apart, keeping you just how you are.

“Start bouncin’ then.” Hobie forces you to move your hips, rocking them against his cock as your greedy little pussy takes in more of him. He slaps your exposed pussy red and raw when you take too long to move, leaving you sensitive and teary-eyed. “I said start bouncin’, or are you stupid now?” His voice bites a little with a command but just between the two of you in a hushed whisper, “Jus’ tell me to stop if you don’ wanna go on, sweet’art.”

You shake his head at your offer, bracing yourself as you begin to flex your thighs and lift yourself up before dropping right back down on his cock. You let out a broken little moan as he plunges back in, the curve of his length pressing into your walls just right. That wonderful piercing of his only amplifies the pleasure. “Hobie~” You whine his name as he soothes his the rough pads of his fingers against your aching clit as a reward. “Keep goin’.”

You ride like your very life depends on it, crying out his name like he might be your only chance at salvation. You don’t care that your thighs are burning as you push them to their limits. You’re cock-hungry and everyone in the room knows it. The sound of your creamy, wet pussy being fucked and your whiny moans mingle with Hobie’s deep, guttaral ones. He hisses out his words like he’s barely holding on to sanity. “Bes’ fuckin cunt ‘ve had in a long time.”

And when you simply couldn’t keep going as you were, your legs exhausted from carrying up and down and back up again, Hobie grabbed you, held you up, and fucked you just like that. The way he fucked you was borderline cruel, abusive even. He bullied his cock into your pussy and played with your clit like the strings of his guitar, leaving you so wet that your thighs were slick with it. Skin clapped against skin, your faces’ shimmering with sweat.

“Pull up ya shirt… let’ em see your tits.” Hobie let out between breathless pants. You did just that, pulling up your shirt enough to let your breast free. They bounced with his harsh thrusts, the peaks of your nipples pebbling at the cold air coming in contact with them. You could tell they were all trying to restrain themselves, swallowing harshly at the sight of your near defiled body.

“H-Hobie…I’m– cumming!” You could feel it falling upon you much like a tsunami. It seized your body and held you, drowned you. Your pussy clamped down around him and trembled with it as Hobie played with your pussy and dragged you through it. It had no mercy on you, left you feeling dizzy and your mind foggy. Your back arched, muscles twitching against your will, and your pussy left white streaks of cream against his cock.

Hobie wasn’t done with you though. “Turn ‘round, doll.” You hardly even removed yourself from his cock as you turned around on his cock, now facing him. Instinctively, you began to ride him, your hands grasping his shirt for leverage as he leaned back and enjoyed the show for himself. 

“Lookin’ all pretty and fucked out, aren’t ya luv?” He reached across you towards the table for a joint. He placed it between his lips and grabbed a lighter to light it, still watching you as he took his first drag and tossed the lighter to the side. He loved the way your tits bounced in his face, the way there wasn’t a single thought in that pretty, empty head of yours. Like his mates said, a proper slut for him.

He blew the smoke into your face and slapped your ass before grabbing your waist. “Should keep ya ‘round. Nice way to relax after a show, yeah men?” Hobie looked at his mates already rubbing one out themselves, too sexually frustrated not to do anything. He took another drag and let out the smoke in a breathy moan. “Fuckin’ me up here, doll.” He gritted out while grinding his hips into you. “Migh’ haveta keep ya ‘round. Can’t get good pussy like this nowhere else.”

Hobie pulled you in to kiss you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You could still taste the remainder of your cherry lipgloss mingling with the alcohol and weed in his breath. You wondered if it was possible to sew two people’s lips together because you never wanted to stop kissing him ever again.

He began to smile into your kiss, a wicked idea coming to mind. “Lemme give you a autograph, luv. Get up and get on ya knees again.” You didn’t understand at first until you felt his cock twitch with the telltale signs of an orgasm on the horizon. So you got up, a string of cum leaving you two connected before breaking. You got on your knees again.

“Gotta nice pair o’ tits there.” Hobie wrapped his ringed fingers around his length and began violently jerking himself. You look at him, slick lips parting to speak. “Can you sign them for me?” You ask like one of his fangirls only hoping to get a moment like this one.

He held his joint between his fingers and sat up a bit more as his stomach tightened, abs revealing themselves even more. “How can I refuse a fan?” His brows furrowed with concentration as you push your chest forward in front of him, pressing them together with your hands.

Then his face relaxed all at once, his lips falling open with a single moan as he came. His cum came out in ribbons of white, landing on your chest in intervals as he twitched. Hobie was the prettiest when he came, every muscle in his face relaxing except his brows that seem to tense. You like how he coated your chest, how his cum rolled between the valley of your breasts as down your naval.

You felt owned now, possessed, marked. And you swore you’d never be able to have sex with another man again after tonight. You watched Hobie in utter admiration as he placed his joint back between his lips and reached back to the table to grab your camera. He snapped a picture of you. Your defiled body, your owned body, immortalized in a picture.

Hobie grabbed the picture as it printed out and waved it about through the air until it developed then placed it down on the table. “Come on, less get you cleaned up, doll.” He made himself decent before helping you up onto your shaky feet. He glanced at his mates as you two passed them, them all still wanking off, and he scoffed. “Pervs.”

“Fuck you, Hobes!”

He took you to the bathroom, used some wet paper towels to clean his come from your body and fix up your outfit as best as he could. “Sorry ‘bout the stockin’s, luv. I’ll buy ya new ones.” You didn’t expect him to be so sweet, no one has ever cleaned you up afterwards. Your face was hot as you looked at him. “Can I… have a second?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Hobie shrugged, leaned down and kissed your cheek right at the corner of your lips. He offered a sly smile before leaving you to yourself to go back and joins his friends. You could hear him behind the door, “Could you wankas put ya…well…wankas away?”

You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water. You tell yourself that this isn’t real. You tell yourself you didn’t just have the best sex of your life with your idol. The more you splash your face, trying to wake yourself from thai dream that can only end in disappointment, the more you realize this isn’t some pathetic figment of your imagination.

When you come out of the bathroom, everyone’s hanging around. Hobie’s back in his chair with his joint and the polaroid he took in between his fingers. Your things were in his lap meaning you’d have to go to him to grab them.

He stands for you, putting out his joint in the ashtray much to the dismay of the others. He takes your things and brings them to you. “There ya go, sweet’art.” Your fingers brush when you grab them from him and he gives you the picture too. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you. “Hope to see you at our next gig.”

You think he must say that to all the fangirls he hooks up with. You’re nothing special you tell yourself. You glance at the other members wearily. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“You too, darlin’.” They’re all sweet despite watching you get fucked by their friend and jerking off to it. Do they do that kind of stuff often? Was this not an uncommon occurrence for them?

You’re almost humiliated as you leave, stalking towards the nearest exit to take a cab home. You look at the polaroid of yourself, on your knees with cum on your chest. You rub your thumb over it and when you shift it into your other hand to put it in your bag, you see ink smeared on your fingers.

Your brows furrowed and you flipped the photo to find a number scribbled down on the back. Your fingers smeared the ink but not enough to make it incomprehensible. All the numbers were clearly readable, carefully placed like he wanted to ensure you’d be able to read it.

You almost had a heart attack right then and there. There was absolutely no way he was just giving out his number to anyone who came across his path. This meant you were special, something out of his ordinary. You squealed, jumping right there on the cracked sidewalk, gaining the attention of those around you.

Holy Shit.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown fic #hobie brown #rockstar hobie #black!reader #spider punk fic #spider punk #spider punk smut #hobie brown x reader smut #hobie brown x black!reader

[ystrike1]

MY SWEET BUNNY CAGE - By Uruu akua (8.5/10)

I think more popular ASMR CD's should get comic releases. Specifically high quality comic releases. Sometimes yandere comics aren't worth buying, and that's the awful truth. Awkward art styles. Bad endings. The genre is still full of "passable" content. This is the whole package. A good CD and a good comic with great art. Very worth collecting.

Our heroine is a spunky brat. A petite woman that doesn't get taken seriously at work. Everybody dotes on her, because she looks so young. She's frustrated by it. She hates it. She's a fully grown adult with a good career. She thinks her kindly coworkers are very annoying.

They tell her she shouldn't walk alone at night, because she's an obvious target for pervs.

She doesn't listen.

She argues with a weird guy that seems drunk, or even mentally ill, confidently.

She can take care of herself.

She wakes up in a degrading, frilly outfit. Her room looks like a castle fit for a princess. Her hair has been expertly done and her handcuffs are frilly lace bands.

The weirdo from before has kidnapped her.

She doesn't know him.

He's not secretly her childhood friend.

He's nuts.

She protests pretty hard. Crazy guy is rude, presumptuous, handsome....and unbothered. He seems to think he's above the law. Possibly because he's rich. Custom BDSM gear is expensive. The crystal chandeliers everywhere are a dead giveaway too.

He's not crazy and stupid.

He has a plan.

He tries to explain. She looks like his old pet. That's why he took her. He totally didn't plan ahead. Ignore the tailored outfits. He's totally not using the rabbit thing as an excuse to take her specifically. He totally didn't wait until she was alone at night. He doesn’t exactly hide it. The rabbit excuse is full of creepy layers. In his twisted head it somehow justifies his stalking and the kidnapping, and his overall ownership of her.

Her catty attitude makes him fall even further. It kind of saves her, I think. Before he wasn't interested in her real name. He was just going to give her his rabbits name. When she lashes out at him he asks for her real name, which could indicate that he started following her purely because she is his type looks wise.

She continues to resist, so he cuts up her cards. He takes her phone. He destroys her things in front of her. He doesn’t care if she's bored. He wants his new pet to wait for him. To like his company....because life is boring and theres nothing else to do.

Gags, ropes, chains, threats. Kesedo isn't gentle all the time. Rabbit is convinced that he will kill her if she doesn't cooperate.

He just wants affection though. Really bad. He tries to buy her love with sweetness just as often. His logic is very twisted, but again I like his arrogance. He behaves as if winning is natural for him, and Rabbit is just throwing a tantrum because she's hungry.

She attacks.

He likes that too.

His character design is fun as well. This is in a modern setting. His frilly sense of style actually indicates he's a fan of Lolita fashion and cute things. It's not JUST a standard prince outfit. It's a preference.

Also, this story is getting an extension, and I trust it will get better.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #MY SWEET BUNNY CAGE #lolita fashion

[submariini]

When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #eurovision #the article in full

[sporadicthingcollection]

Smash or Pass: Part 2/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Violence, description of injuries. Word Count: ~3.7k.

A/N: Someday I'll figure out the best way to make a tag list on here (if anyone has any experience with that hmu). Hope you enjoy this one~

---

PART 2: In which you lend a helping hand, provide clown care, and tell a joke.

Swords clash. Punches fly. Bodies go flying. The band launches into a rousing up number. You admire their dedication until a chair flies past your head. You should get out of here.

You get to the door, but you stop. Where’s Buggy? He was just right there, but there is now occupied by a man with a big hat and a bear club.

More importantly, why do you care? Well, you know why you care. You just went over this. It’s because you’ve got a stupid little crush. You shouldn’t care but you’re so liquored up that you do. This was probably his plan all along—

A guy comes at you with a sword. You duck beneath him, punch him in the dick, and throw him out the door and into the street. No cheap shots in a bar fight. 

And then you see it: a candy cane-striped patch deep in the throng. You skirt the edge of the brawl to get closer to it.

For a drunk guy with no hands, Buggy’s doing pretty well. Kicking, headbutting, body part separating. Cheap shots galore. You suppose it helps that he’s not fighting to win, but to get the hell out of here.

He’s almost at the edge when a mountain of a man hooks him around the neck with a wire of some kind. You expect him to separate his head, but his eyes go wide and he thrashes to no success, scrabbling at the wire.

Oh, that’s bad. Real bad. What do you do? C’mon, girl, think! There’s gotta be a way for you to lend a helping—

Hands! There they are! Smacking into everyone and everything as he tries to recall them. You grab one and then the other. You look around to return them but now there’s a whole scuffle between you and him. Three very large men all whaling on each other. There’s no way you’re getting through that.

“Hey!” you shout. He can’t hear you over the din. “Buggy!”

Still nothing. The pirate pulls tighter. He gasps and struggles.

Somewhere in your brain, you know this is the perfect moment to make a break for it. He’s occupied, won’t see you leave, and can’t follow you back to the ship.

But you can’t leave a man to die just to save your own skin. Especially when the brawl started because he was trying to defend you. C’mon, think of something!

…Oh. Duh.

You take a deep breath. You hold his hands over your head. "Hey, big nose!"

Buggy's head whips towards you as his eyes fly open, burning with white hot rage. It vanishes as he sees your trophies, replaced with awe.

It's a nice look on him.

One hand zips out of your grasp to jab his assailant in the eyes. The other grabs you by the collar.

You shriek as your feet leave the ground, lifting you up and over several dozen brawling sailors. It sets you down gently behind the bar, safe from the throng.

You’ve never flown before. You’re not a fan. But you are grateful, even if he did put you down so far from the exit. “Thanks,” you croak.

The hand shoots you a finger gun. You can practically hear the click of his tongue as the thumb flexes. How’d he hear you over the chaos?

Right next to your ear, a low voice says, “Don’t mention it.”

You scream and throw your elbow back, colliding with something hard. The low voice grunts as you jump away, and you turn to see Buggy clutching his nose.

You grimace. You know how pointy your elbows are. “That’s your own fault, sneaking up on a girl in the middle of a fight.”

He gives you an incredulous glare. “That’s not your line. You’re supposed to say…” He assumes a high-pitched voice. “‘Oh, thanks for the help, Captain Buggy! My hero!’”

You really hope you don’t sound like that. “Go soak your head. I saved you!”

He sneers at you, but he strokes his throat. An ugly ring of bruises will certainly be there later. “I had it under control.” 

“Bullshit!”

“I’m sorry, did you want to be dragged into an alley and used like a two-bit whore—“

A loud crack cuts him off. He blinks, looking more shocked than anything. His eyes roll back, his shoulders slump, and his head lolls forward. The rest of him follows and Captain Buggy, your hero, goes down like a sack of potatoes.

He hits the floor in a big puddle of assorted spirits, making a slap that you can only compare to when a pancake hits the ceiling. It would be funny if...

...actually, it's pretty funny as-is. You wish you were sober enough to commit the sound to memory.

Anyways, a chair in a bar fight really ought to be cheating. Then again, this is a pirate bar. The patrons are pirates. You are pirates. Everyone is pirates. It's pirates all the way down in here.

You catch the chair as it swings at you, and you see your assailant is, in fact, not a pirate. It’s the bar matron, scowling.

“You,” she grumbles. “This is your fault, you know that?”

“I didn’t ask him to help.” You yank the chair from her hands and toss it away. “And I didn’t ask to get felt up.”

Her eyes widen. “Is that what…?” She sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Guess I can’t be too surprised about that. The boys have been spoiling to fight all night.” She looks down at Buggy. “Sorry ‘bout your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. You really hate that you don’t hate the sound of that. But that would eventually make you Mrs the Clown and that you cannot abide by.

You wrinkle your nose. “Not my boyfriend.”

She scoffs. “Man started a brawl for you. It’s only a matter of time.” She kneels down and hooks her arms under his shoulders. “There’s a room upstairs we can stash him in. Grab his legs.”

You do so. On three, you both heave up… and he separates in the middle. The bar matron gasps in horror.

In his maybe-concussed definitely-drunk stupor, Buggy giggles. It’s kind of cute. Not at all menacing the way it’s been before. High-pitched. A bit like a weathervane squeaking in the breeze.

“Pull yourself together, dickhead,” you say. When he doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Devil Fruit,” you say to the matron. “I’ll be right behind.”

Carrying a pair of legs is far more difficult than you expected. You can’t pick them up bridal style. Dragging them by the ankles is no good, either. You resort to throwing them over your shoulders, one leg on either side of your neck with your hands on his shins. An inelegant solution, but the only one you’ve got.

You’re halfway up the stairs when you feel something twitch against your head. Something hard. Something stiff. Something that seems like it’s pretty thick, based on the weight against your ear.

Your cheeks burst into flames. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Buggy’s cock. Don’t think about how you were wrong about Buggy having a small cock.

The matron leads you to a small room right under the roof. A bed, a trunk, and a dry sink with a wash basin are the only furniture, but a marvelous view of the harbor from the window makes up for it. If it wasn’t dark, you could probably see the Merry from here.

She tosses her half of Buggy onto the bed. You follow suit. The mattress squeaks as they bounce and, with a pop, the twain meet and he’s a whole man again.

“Devil Fruits,” the matron mutters, shaking her head. She turns to you. “You can stay here ‘til he’s well enough to walk, but I want you gone by morning. Got it?”

You nod, only to grimace. “I, uh, don’t have much money. I don’t think he does, either.”

She waves her hand as she exits. “Just don’t come back and I won’t collect.”

You realize a problem. “Th-There’s only one bed.”

“One of you can sleep on the floor.”

The door closes. You are left alone with the muffled sounds of a brawl, the rhythmic breathing of a mostly unconscious clown, and your own turbulent thoughts.

Again, you are presented with an opportunity to leave. Can’t follow you if he’s out cold. Save your friends. Save your ship. Save yourself.

And again, you hesitate. He drank a lot with you. And you did laugh quite a bit. And dancing with him was like floating — the good kind, not the kind with disembodied hands. And he whacked some guys about to manhandle you. And then he pulled you out of the fight.

How was it he had described you? Back on the Merry, when he read you like a picture book? ‘Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around a third time, you just can’t help yourself.’

Boy howdy, do you hate how accurate that is.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t moved since he hit the bed. You pat his cheek. “You alright?”

He stirs slightly. “Mfmn.”

That’s not good. With a sigh, you put on your triage hat. Seeing as how he got bashed on the noggin, might as well start there. "Sit up.”

He mutters something incomprehensible, but doesn't fight you as you guide him into a sitting position against the headboard. It takes a moment to untie his bandanna.

You're expecting sensibly short hair. Or perhaps missed-a-few-trims-touching-his-earlobes medium-ish hair. Maybe even brushing his shoulders in what guys consider long.

But no. What you get is honest-to-god long hair, textured by salt water and adorned with little plaits, flowing out of the bandana and waterfalling down his back. In need of a good brushing, perhaps, but otherwise healthy.

You want to run your nails through it. Twirl a few strands around your finger. Pull a comb through it. Cut a lock to braid into a rope bracelet, the kind sailors give to their sweethearts to remember them by—

You give your head a good shake. Where did that come from? That’s weird. Don’t do that.

Gently, you part his hair to inspect the scalp. A few small cuts, but nothing worth wasting gauze on. A nasty lump, though. That'll for sure hurt in the morning.

Satisfied, you let his hair fall. His face is next, but this literal clown makeup makes it hard to tell what's blood and what's not. Rummaging around in your satchel, you pull out your rubbing alcohol and a gauze pad and dab away.

It doesn’t come off easy — this is definitely the good shit — but you get enough off. Barefaced Buggy isn’t much different than the regular one, just less obfuscated by whacky colors. High cheekbones. Strong, stubbly jaw. Cleft chin. He'd be handsome if it weren't for the nose… or maybe he is anyways? Some cultures like big noses. And you know what they say about guys with big noses—

Nope. No. Knock it off. Gonna behave yourself? Good. Back to work. Where were you again?

Nose. Right. Speaking of which, you're still not convinced it's not real. The intrusive thoughts win this time and you give it a pinch and a pull.

It's real. He gasps and snatches you by the wrist as his eyes pop open, wide and darting around. They’re the color of a calm river on a cloudy day, though the river is rough at the moment. Why does such a repulsive man have such pretty eyes? 

"Easy, easy," you say. "I'm just checking you out— up."

If he heard the slip, he ignores it. After a moment, he drops your hand and lays back with a sigh. "W'happen?"

A few spots of blood stick to your fingers, coming from a small cut down the middle of his nose. You couldn't tell on account of the... well, everything about it. "Someone got you from behind with a chair." You go to dab at the cut. "Knocked you out cold. Smashed your face on the floor and gave you a bloody nose."

The rage returns. He snatches your wrist again. "What about my nose?" he growls, voice raw.

On one hand, you like that husky tone. On the other, this rubbing alcohol is stinging your fingers and you're not going to entertain his insecurities. "You landed right on it. A schnoz that big and it didn't do a damn thing to break your fall."

He does not like that. He squeezes tight enough to hurt and pulls you in closer. The river in his eyes whirls and churns. "You're talking a lot of shit for someone all alone in a room with Buggy the Clown."

Not a single word of excrement has left your mouth. "And you're talking too much shit for someone with a busted nose," you spit. "You want it to get infected? Scar up? It'll look even worse."

It's blunt, but you're right. And you know he knows you're right. He's a fool, but he's not foolish enough to not listen to a professional.

What you don't expect is the way his face drops for a moment. All of the anger, all of the bluster, all of it gone. All that remains is a boy with shocked eyes. Hurt eyes. Vulnerable eyes.

But only for a moment. The walls go back up and the angry man returns, albeit at a simmer and not a boil. He drops your wrist and scowls, avoiding your gaze.

Your stomach sinks. Being snippy is one thing, but you don't like being mean by accident. Even to a jerkoff like him.

With a gentle touch, you take his jaw. "This'll sting," you say as you press the pad to his nose.

He hisses, but doesn't pull away. "How bad is it?"

Now that the blood's gone, not bad at all. "Just a scratch. Won't even need a bandage."

He fixes his gaze somewhere past you. “Shame.”

And you continue to feel bad. It doesn’t look that bad on him. You were right earlier. It does suit him. You discard the pad. “Sorry ‘bout what I said,” you say. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

Buggy he continues to look past you. He waves his hand, only to flinch. He tries to hide it with a scoff.

Your soft eyes don’t miss. “Give it here.”

He huffs and grabs the injured hand with the other, yanking it off at the wrist. He plops it in your own hand and crosses his arms.

You almost laugh. But you hold it back.

You pull his glove off, revealing calloused fingers and shredded nails. When the seas get rough, he works the ropes with everyone else. And he's been at it awhile. 

"You're a career sailor," you say. You're not sure why you're surprised.

“Only trade I know,” he says.

Fingerbones intact, if not a little bruised at the knuckles. "Piracy pay that well?”

He gives a bitter smile. “You’d be surprised what you make in tips.”

Maybe you’re just drunk or maybe that was actually kinda funny. Regardless, a laugh almost manages to escape this time. Almost. You catch it in time for it to turn into a weird snorting sound.

The bitterness evaporates like mist in the morning sun as he finally turns his gaze on you. His smile brightens his whole face, scrunching the rivers of his eyes into little oxbow lakes.

Yep. He’s handsome. That little crush burns in your chest.

You swallow some infatuation-flavored bile. "Take your shirt off," you say. "Wanna— Wanna check your ribs."

He regards you for a moment. Wordlessly, he pulls his scarf from his neck and tosses it to the floor. Next goes the sash-belt thing. Finally, he shrugs out of the vest.

You're not sure what you're expecting. A sea of scars, perhaps? The mottled, diseased skin of a syphilitic sailor? A gaping void where his heart ought to be?

No. What you get is an expanse of smooth skin, dipping and rising with mountains and valleys of lean muscles. Hair covers his pectorals, thickest on his sternum. A soft belly pushes against his waistband as he breathes — not a gut by any means, but a logical consequence of indulging one's every desire. A thin trail of fuzz leads down below his trousers, growing thicker as it dips below. The carpet matches the drapes, apparently...

Your cheeks heat up. Don't even think about it, girl. Just check him out and be on your way— up. Check him up.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" you ask. You trail your fingers down his ribs, gently poking and prodding.

"Not particularly." Pressing the side of his pec makes him hiss. “Alright, maybe there.”

You lift his arm — his hard, wiry arm — and lean in close. A bit of a bruise is blooming, but it doesn’t look too serious. What is serious is how distracting the smell of fresh sweat is.

His sweat. On his skin. Glistening. Like dew. Musky. Tangy. Tasty.

He says something and it doesn’t even register. The thoughts drown him out. Do it, they say. Stick your face in there.

A light poke to your cheek yanks you out of your… whatever the hell that was. You turn to see his hand hovering. Its fingers wiggle in a wave. “Hello? Anyone aboard?”

You shake your head hard enough that you can feel your brain bouncing around. “Sorry. Thinking about contusions.”

“Should I be worried or not?”

You press your thumb into the bruise. “Does it hurt to breathe?”

He squeaks like a mouse. “When you’re doing that, yeah!”

The sound of pain is a big turn-off for you, which is exactly what you need right now. You jam your finger against the bruise one more time just to hear him yelp. “You’re fine.”

You drop his arm. You try to move away as quickly as possible while still looking casual and not tripping over yourself. You fail and land on your ass. Not hard enough to hurt, but an uff escapes you all the same.

Buggy giggles, peering down at you. “I love a good pratfall.”

He looks good from this angle. Above you. That worries you. “You’re completely fine. Worst thing you’ll have in the morning is a lump and a hangover.”

His brow wrinkles. “Not gonna check out my legs?”

Oh, you’ve already spent plenty of time checking out his legs. Nice boots. Muscular thighs. Trying to figure out if the bulge in the crotch was fabric or something else.

You grab the edge of the bed and haul yourself up onto it. “Do they hurt?”

“Sister, all of me hurts.”

You sigh. “Bring your knees to your chest. First one, then the other.”

His left knee joint pops out from its rightful spot on his leg. He presses it to his chest, then repeats the action with the other. He looks at you expectantly. “Now what?”

A banged-up half-naked clown, sitting on a bed, holding his knees in his hands. The situation is amusing enough, but something in his expression, the tone of his voice… it breaks you.

You slide from the bed back onto the floor as loud, cackling peals burst forth like floodwaters through a dam.

It feels good to laugh so hard. It hurts your ribs, your stomach, and your cheeks, but it's a good hurt.

The fit subsides, leaving you flopped on your back, arm slung over your eyes, trying to catch your breath. A few giggles bubble forth, and you do your best to swallow them.

You fling your arm from your eyes to see Buggy gazing down at you, resting his head on his arm, eyes scrunched up. “Didn’t think that one would get you."

“Shut up.” You climb up to your knees. “And stop making me laugh.”

“But you’re so cute when you laugh.”

You snort. “You tried that one earlier.”

Buggy frowns. Deeply. He moves his head to his fist, leaving his gaze level with your own. “But I meant it.”

“You’re full of bird shit.”

You try to move away, but he grabs your arm and guides you back down. He stares right into your eyes, straight into your soul. “I meant it,” he says firmly.

For a moment, you believe him. Your voice of self-doubt is silenced. The voice of what an unladylike laugh. No man could ever find that attractive. How do you expect to get a husband sounding like that?

His voice disturbs your ruminating. "Y’know, if you join my crew," he says, "you can laugh like that all you want. As loud as you want. Whenever you want."

It's probably the alcohol. It's probably because he's half naked. It's probably because you're a weak woman. Whatever the reason may be, to your horror, you do consider it.

It could be a good time. You enjoy his company. You enjoy laughing. You enjoy adventures and making mischief and romance. Both the kind with the wind in your sails and the kind with a man in your arms.

Perhaps even this man.

But you can't. You know you can't. He’s cruel. He’s crazy. You couldn't live with yourself if you betrayed your friends. Not to mention that there'd be no escape if it all went wrong.

In your moment of weakness, he slips a finger under your chin. Millimeter by millimeter, he guides you closer. His eyes drift shut as his nose bumps yours.

Don’t do this, your good sense screams. You’re drunk. He’s drunk. Stop thinking with your snatch. Don’t—

The slightest bit of nerves quiver in his voice. “Something wrong…?”

Everything. “Nothing.”

You push forward and finally, finally, your lips meet his.

It’s nothing like your previous kisses, sudden and sloppy. This one is slow. Measured. Gently crackling like the soft flame of a low fire, radiating warmth.

A featherlight moan escapes him as you pull away. His eyes search your face, bracing himself, waiting for something, hoping in vain that he won't find it.

You lay a hand on his jaw, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “What is it?”

His gaze drifts to the side as he inhales sharply. “Waiting for the punchline.” He swallows. “No way something this good could happen to me.”

This poor, pathetic man after your own heart. “I got a punchline for you. What did the sawbones say to the clown?”

Shining eyes peer at you. “I dunno. What did the sawbones say to the clown?”

“She said...” You lean in close. “‘Kiss me again.’”

Those eyes go wide.

---

Part the 3rd goes up Thursday!

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown

[bigfatbimbo]

Hello, my dear! Love that you/others enjoyed my thought and rambles! Speaking of emojis, because I'm a bastard, can I be 🍆 anon??? If that's taken, I could also go for 💦 anon?? Also, forgive me for any spelling errors, wrote this at 2 am

* ----------- * ----------- *

Vee's Dom 2: Even More Rambling (because these idiots won't leave me alone)

- If their dom ever become famous, which is likely, and the fans create edits of them, the Vees would absolutely save those vids and watch them over and over again (Imagine walking in on them watching edits of you LMAO, or even you coming over to where they're sitting cause the sound keeps looping and it's obvious that they're watching the same video straight)

- Let's talk about the clothing situation here

* With Vox's freaky ass wanting to keep you close always, it's probably led him to steal your underwear, and might even wear it, but you'll never know. I can also see Val doing the same thing but being hella more shameless, enough to even show YOU that he's wearing them and if you want them back, you better take it off of him

* Velvette probably has taken more comfier clothes, things you would wear for staying in, like old shirts, band tees, or shirts that are well loved

* Valentino has tried, and failed, to return some of the clothes he took. It's kinda hard to take those clothes back considering they look more like rags with how many holes and substances covering it.

- With a built dom

* Velvette will "off-handedly" mention about creating clothes that cater to more muscle-y/bigger builds, and will insist that she needs you to model/do photoshoots for her (she's definitely not using this opportunity just to have more photos of you flexing in HD)

* Vox will 100% build you a personal gym in the tower, but said gym will be covered in cameras/cctvs, all pointed in different directions

* Val would ask you to train his actors, and he will watch supervise said sessions, just to make sure the actors do right (which is totally not a reason for him to watch you flex on his workers)

* Obsessed with pinning Vox to the bed, I bet he'd find it so fucking hot that everytime he tries to close his legs, we just pry them open.

- i know I've talked about punishments, but what about rewards??

* Letting Vox cum as much as he wants (though by the end of it, Vox might start to wonder if it's more of a punishment instead of a reward)

* Willingly let Velvette mess around with some of your clothes/putting you in different fashion designs/putting makeup on your face

* Dare I say even let Valentino call SOME shots during sex, again, SOME shots (do remind him that even if he tops you, he's still your bitch)

- Also rotting in my brain regarding these whores:

* what if you were more powerful in terms of magic/connections/influence/money? (I just know my problems would simply ✨ disappear ✨ if I had a muscle mommy/daddy)

* what if they met you via social media and they immediately hivemind that "yes, this is my dom, right here" ? Like let's say you're an entertainer/dancer right, and one of your viral vids had been a dance to don't go insane (it's the belt dance, boo if you're curious)

* Being in the limelight also means being in the subjective eyes of everyone, and I know for a fact that the Vees have a lot of haters/threats, but what if you protect them from it (bodyguard scenario????)

* ----------- * ----------- *

I forgot to say this during my last ramble, but, If I may, I would love to absolutely read one of your takes regarding my sub!val ideas, but only if you want to/feel for it.

Btw, on a totally unrelated sidenote, I know the blog is primarily hazbin hotel, but I gotta ask, how we feeling about Arcane Sevika?? Cause I am feeling a lot (missing my muscle mommy as fuck bro)

Anywaaays, have a good day!

xoxoxoxo ❤️

This has been in my drafts for almost ALL WEEK and i’m finally coherent enough to give my thoughts!

Can I just say how much I love the Vees with a well built reader. Like I have no real character study-ish explanation for why in my brain i’m like “they’d be obsessed with that.” But I know for a fact it’s absolutely true.

I’m going to focus on your little side notes at the bottom though. So if they met you through social media I feel like you would definitely start off knowing Velvette first. But even before they start talking to you they would absolutely stalk your page and send fucking edits or something back and forth.

But the Vees with a very powerful reader is very interesting to me. Because like while yes, they’d love to be totally on top of hell, but it’s very convenient for them, and hot and hot and hot, to have your support. Because like super powerful big scary respected dom privilege mixed with their constant self entitlement and attitude? And if anyone says anything about it you fucking destroy their status, business, or hell, even them simply because you can. “Do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” “Yes, of course I will, my love” TYPE BEAT AHHH.

And that leads us to the bodyguard idea because jesus christ. Like this is literally such a mix of the well built buff reader and powerful one I just talked about. Also they would argue for your attention 1000% worse in this case.

ALSO CAN I JUST SAY, YOUR SUCH A BASTARD FOR LITERALLY BEING 🍆 ANON. you’re literally DICK ANON. are you proud 🤨🤨

#hazbin hotel x reader #the vees x reader #sub vees #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut

[eiightysixbaby]

i've got you under my skin now

word count: 2.9k

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. SMUT SMUT SMUT. kind of asshole!eddie but he's really just a moody baby, oral (m receiving), masturbation, reader and eddie argue but everything is consensual, really just absolute filth with a plot.

summary: you're an up-and-coming musician in the rock scene and have been asked to join corroded coffin on a song. only thing is, their singer - eddie munson - proves to be challenging to collaborate with.

author's note: my first lengthier work so sorry in advance if there are errors! this is a daisy jones and the six inspired one-shot, and for the sake of this fic i directly reference the title and lyrics of the song 'honeycomb' from the tv show - but you really don't need to know the book/show to understand. ok anyways hope u all like it and here u go @taintedcigs i know u've been waiting for this one em i hope u love it!!

“Honestly Eddie, I don’t care anymore! I’m not listening to your little rockstar tantrum. She’s coming in, and she’s joining you on the song. That’s final.”

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

“Tom, you don’t fucking get it man. Clearly. My song is perfect. What do we need her for? She doesn’t even have an album out, she’s made no name for herself. She’s going to ruin Corroded Coffin.” Eddie continues pestering, despite Tom’s insistence against it.

“No, Eddie, see that’s where you’re wrong. You wrote a good song man, okay? A good song. But just a good song. She could make it great. You haven’t heard her sing like I have. She has real talent.”

Eddie scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Oh a good song, huh? But you said the label liked it. Why change it?”

Tom sighs, taking a step towards Eddie. “The label didn’t dig the song… okay? They said it needs more, otherwise they’re gonna pass on it.”

“So you fuckin’ lied man, fuck-“ Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine, whatever, she’s gonna sing on the song with me. But that’s it.” Eddie grumbles, storming out of the small room.

•••

“He doesn’t get it, guys, he doesn’t fucking get it!” Eddie yells. “This is my song. My fucking baby. And this... bitch is gonna come in here and destroy it. I don’t need her singing on the song - I don’t need anyone to make my music ‘better’” he spits.

The thing is, things have always gone Eddie’s way since Corroded Coffin gained traction in the music world. Eddie writes the songs, Eddie dictates which songs go on the album, so on and so forth. This makes sense to Eddie, and if you ask him, he’s being completely fair to the rest of the guys in the band. ‘Of course I let them have a say in things. I don’t care what rumors you’ve heard - it’s a fair process around here.’ It’s only natural that he can’t handle the idea of someone else singing on his song. Eddie is always the one singing, save for Gareth and Jeff doing backing vocals.

Eddie thrives off of being liked. The way the fans hang onto every word he sings- it’s electric to him. He’s addicted to the way people adore him. And he’d never admit it to anybody… but he’s nervous you might just show him up, and then *poof* no one cares about him anymore.

“Come on, Eddie. Ease up a little! This could be fun, you never know.” Gareth says, following Eddie back and forth as he paces the recording studio.

“I give you like, 20 minutes before you’re in love with her… or bending her over a table.” Jeff interjects, screeching when Gareth throws a drumstick at him to shut him up.

Eddie can’t get a rebuttal in before the door swings open. Tom walks in trailed by a young woman. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman Eddie’s ever see- nope. Nope. Not going there. What was that?

“Guys. This is Y/N, as I’m sure you could guess. She’s here to record ‘Honeycomb’ with us today.” Tom smiles politely at the group, jolting Eddie from his thoughts.

“Y/N, hey. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Gareth, this is Jeff, Greg, and I’m sure you know Eddie - the star of the show.” Gareth goes around the room, pointing at all of the guys.

You meet Eddie’s gaze as Gareth talks, and your breath hitches in your throat. Of course you know who Eddie is- you’ve seen him on magazine covers and in interviews. You’ve always thought he was alluring, but he’s even more gorgeous in person. Long, curly hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Tattoos trailing up his arms and chains around his neck. His signature ripped black skinny jeans that hug him so well in all the right places… fuck. Focus. You are not here to sleep with Eddie Munson. You redirect your attention to Gareth as he finishes speaking.

The rest of the guys all greet you warmly - except Eddie, you notice - who gives you a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod.

You walk straight up to him, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you Eddie. Thank you so much for letting me be on the song - seriously, it means the world.” You say, exaggerating sincerity a little.

Eddie reluctantly shakes your hand. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

He walks away to set up a microphone before he can think too hard about the way his heart pounded as your hands touched.

•••

The recording session starts, and take one of the song has begun. You insisted on using the same mic as Eddie, who begrudgingly allowed you to stand beside him, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. The contact sends chills down his spine. Eddie sings the first lines confidently into the mic, not making eye contact with you. Tom, along with the rest of the band watch the two of you intently from the sound booth. Honestly, Eddie has to admit everything is going smoothly. That is, until the chorus starts. Eddie sings one lyric into the microphone… and you sing a different one.

“Woah, woah, okay, stop!” Eddie yells to Tom to cut the track, pulling the clunky headphones off of his head. “Those aren’t the lyrics, what are you doing?” He’s turned to face you, incredulous.

“Um I- I’m sorry, did he not get my version? Does he not know?” You say, avoiding eye contact with Eddie to level with Tom.

“Your version!? This is my song- you are here to sing on my song. Not to rewrite the damn song!” Eddie hisses, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, darling, I’m here to make your song better. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.” You narrow your eyes at him, a syrupy sweet smile on your face.

Eddie’s face is burning, his whole body is burning. You weren’t supposed to write new lyrics. This is not happening. And for the love of god stop staring at her lips, Eddie.

“Eddie, uh, let’s give her version a shot, yeah?” Tom says, framing it like a question, but Eddie knows he doesn’t really have a choice.

The track starts from the top again, and Eddie finds that his hands are trembling as he holds your songbook. He sings the lyrics as you have written them, and his stomach sinks as he does it. He hates that you’ve changed his perfect song. He hates that he was made to look like an idiot because Tom didn’t tell him you had rewritten anything. And most of all, he hates that he can hear how good your voices sound together. He hates that he thinks he’d like to hear the sound of your voice for the rest of his life, on the rest of his songs.

“Oooh, we could make a good thing bad,” the two of you sing out in unison, and the song ends.

Eddie stares at you and you stare at him, chest heaving and absolutely beaming. The rest of the band are looking at the two of you in awe from the sound booth. Eddie can’t bring himself to smile, can’t bring himself to let you know that he thinks you really might have made his song better. Can’t face you while his mind races with thoughts of grabbing your face and kissing you. Instead, he hands you your lyric book and hurries out of the studio.

You excuse yourself to the group amid their praises and follow him out the large wooden doors. You’re surprised to find the lobby empty, but then you hear noise coming from down the hall. Walking over to a small closet, you peer in and see Eddie in the dim light, leaning against the wall, hands covering his face and his head tipped back.

“Eddie, what was up with that?” You ask him gently, closing the closet door behind you for privacy. “I thought we sounded great.”

“You rewrote my fucking song!” He booms over you. “That wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to sing on it with me and that would be that.” He’s stepped towards you, leaving little room between the two of you in the already-cramped closet.

“It’s not my fault Tom didn’t tell you I changed some of the lyrics, okay? I didn’t expect you to be blindsided like that. But you could’ve been more mature about it!” You defend.

“Who the hell do you think you are? No- seriously, tell me. Corroded Coffin has worked so hard to make a name for ourselves. I have worked so hard. And you just waltz in here like you own the place? What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s words come out sharp, bitter, but there’s an emotion behind his eyes you can’t quite place. Fear? Maybe.

“Oh get your head out of your ass already, Eddie! I made your song better! We sounded fucking amazing together- the label might actually want it now!” You’re screaming back at him at this point, heat rising in your face as he steps impossibly closer to you. “And don’t even get me fucking started on the Corroded Coffin bullshit. Do you even give the other guys a say in what happens in this band? Cause you seem like a big cocky crybaby who always gets his way. I may not be rich and famous like you are but at least I’m not a fucking prick!” You’re seething, and you press your hands to his chest in an attempt to shove him backwards.

Eddie stops you, though, grabs you by the wrists. Firmly, but not hurting. His huge brown eyes haven’t stopped boring into yours. He thinks his heart might sprout wings and fly out of his chest. He thinks he might hate himself forever if he doesn’t get to have more of you.

“What- now you’re speechless? Don’t have anything to s-“ Eddie cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours like his life suddenly depends on it. Maybe it does.

You’re caught off guard, frozen in place for only a second until you kiss him back, pushing him up against the shelves behind him. His hands leave your wrists and hastily scour your body. You’d think he was a man starved the way he grips at your hips, lips basically devouring yours all the while. Eddie gasps as you lean down to his neck, sucking red and purple marks onto the skin that Jeff is definitely going to mock him for later. He can’t bring himself to care. He grabs your face in his hands to meet your lips once again, needing more.

“You wanna know something, Y/N?” Eddie says between kisses, moving down to nip at your neck. “I can’t fucking stand the way you came in here so confidently today-“ another kiss to your neck. “The way you came right up and sang into the same mic as me instead of using your own, like you just own the whole room-“ another kiss, and another “I can’t stand the fact that your lyrics are better than mine- that maybe you made 'Honeycomb' something I couldn’t make it,” he’s talking through gritted teeth, agitated and yet completely enamored with you. “I hate that the entire time I was watching you sing, I couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock..”

Before you can respond, he’s unbuttoning your jeans, pushing you against the opposite wall of the closet, taking control.

“I think you’re absolutely insufferable and immature” you breathe out, pulling his hair out of its ponytail so you can run your fingers through it.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, but it’s arrogant, smug. “You can spit whatever insults you like, sweetheart, but you’re absolutely soaked right now.” He gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he does. His fingers had slipped inside the waistband of your pants, and are now circling the lace fabric of your panties.

You feel yourself clench around nothing as his fingers tease your core. You let out an involuntary moan, rutting your hips down against his touch. He gets the hint and shimmies your jeans down your legs, and you slip out of them after quickly taking your shoes off. You meet his gaze again as he tugs his jeans down slightly, pulling his cock free from the thin fabric of his boxers.

And - oh my god - he’s fucking huge. Thick and long with a dripping pink tip. You swallow, hard, and you swear you feel your mouth start to water. Suddenly you can’t figure out how you’ve survived this long without him, and you certainly won’t be able to after this.

“Get on your fucking knees, babydoll” he purrs, lips inches away from your ear.

You oblige, of course, settling yourself so that your pussy rests on the toe of his combat boot, aching for whatever friction you can get. You take his cock into your mouth without further instruction from the rockstar, and he inhales sharply above you.

“Fuck, baby, shit-“ Eddie groans, collecting your hair in one of his hands and tugging, his cock twitching slightly in your mouth.

“What, big shot, can’t handle it? Should I tell the press that Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin comes three seconds into a blowjob?” you tease him, but you can’t ignore the way your head spins at his praise.

“Shut up and fucking suck it, sweetheart- I can handle it.” He hisses.

You don't need further instruction. Your tongue works on his cock, licking a stripe up his length and then kitten-licking the tip. Eddie’s seeing stars as you engulf him entirely in your mouth once again. You go at it for a while before he feels you rutting yourself against his boot.

His laugh is devious, wicked. “So desperate for me huh, sweet thing? Gonna get yourself off while you suck my cock, baby?”

You want to retaliate, taunt him back, do anything to make yourself seem like more than a pathetic fucking whore for him, but you’re dripping through your panties and the friction is so, so delicious you can’t stop your movements. Warmth is beginning to pool in your stomach and you need this release. You take him as deep into your mouth as you can, his tip practically nudging the back of your throat, gagging around him. Eddie thinks he might die, seriously, this is it for him. ‘Rockstar Dies In Supply Closet With His Dick Out’ he can see the tabloid headlines now. He tugs your hair and holds your head still as he starts to fuck into your mouth, reveling in the moans and mewls you let out beneath him.

“Shit, sweetheart, you feel s’fucking good around my dick-" he grunts, throwing his head back as he picks up his pace. "Go ahead and touch yourself for me, sweet girl. I know you need more." He says roughly.

You happily let him throat-fuck you as you tug your panties down slightly, bringing a hand down to allow your fingers to rub harsh circles into your clit. You feel yourself getting closer, a coil tightening more more more as he fucks into the heat of your mouth. You can sense his movements getting erratic, and you glance up to look at his face. He's delirious, so fucked out, and you feel as if you could melt into a puddle right here at his feet as you watch him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, sweetheart, shit- you want it in your mouth?” He asks you, brown eyes blown out wide as he awaits your response.

You nod, mouth too full of him to speak, and you squeeze his heavy balls in your free hand as he thrusts faster faster faster into your mouth. He lets out a strangled moan as his cock twitches, ropes of hot cum coating your tongue. You quicken your pace on your aching clit and it doesn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap. You cum all over your fingers and Eddie's boot that still rests beneath you, as he finishes riding out his high above you. He watches you as you swallow his load and he silently swears to himself he’ll do whatever he can to have you like this more often.

“Fuck, baby, you soaked my shoes huh? You okay?” He asks you tenderly, grabbing your arms to pick you up off the floor and steady your shaking frame. You nod, collapsing against him, head pressed to his chest. The two of you stay like that for a while, listening to each others heavy breaths before Eddie finally breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being a dick about having you on the song, okay?” He says, his voice softer and far more unsure than you've ever heard it. “You made it better- I really fucking mean that.”

“I know I did.” you reply, shifting to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “A few more rounds of this," you gesture around the two of you, "and I think you’ll have made it up to me” you smirk at him.

“Alright, sweetheart, same place same time tomorrow?” Eddie teases, and you laugh. That’s a sound he thinks he could get used to.

•••

When the two of you walk back into the recording room, Eddie's neck littered with hickeys and mascara smudged around your eyes, no one says a damn word.

"'Honeycomb' take three anyone?" Eddie asks.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

[dykefaggotry]

[image id: an ask from @harbingerofskulls that reads: "im gonna b real i only knew the jerking off i would love to hear you elaborate more if you want to go on the whole situation" /end id]

answering here so i can save as a draft without risking the ask disappearing bc tumblr's been doing that lately but

oh god </3 for everyone else- it's talking about this post. sooo i'm gonna go through each one bc i've been feeling insane for several weeks. i'll do my best to cite my sources lmao

i don't know (johnny johnny)

this is referring to this unreleased VERY early beatles track from 1960. the audio quality is absolute shit & as such unfortunately people love to put words to it that don't make much sense in either direction (i.e a lot of mclennon fans want to hear "you're in love with me" and a lot of people that hate mclennon will just make up the weirdest lyrics that make 0 sense so it's Not Gay). some of the lyrics that ARE clear make it obvious this song is about the two of them running away together- at one point i'm fairly certain paul says "how am i gonna tell my father that we're leaving town?" probably referring to them leaving to hamburg. which would be fine but some of the other lyrics areeeee..... very..... Hm. like multiple times paul refers to john as "my boy" and there's bits of them talking about not knowing what to tell their friends & wanting to just run off together alone. if i were the other members of the band having to record this i would have killed them with hammers <3 also the entire end is just paul going "oh johnny" like 1 million times. okay. sure. also since the lyrics ARE so garbled i mean i guess people could be right about it saying "how am i gonna tell my father you're in love with me" but i just don't hear it. still, a very gay song about running off together and getting away from everything and everyone, complete with moaning the other's name </3

2. paris

this one is a huge part of McLennon Fandom Lore lmao but for good reason. not citing sources on all this bc it's one of those that's just Fact & can be found in like any beatles biography or thebeatlesbible.com (my savior) but. for john's 21st birthday, he got 100 pounds from a rich relative. instead of taking his girlfriend or any of his other friends, he decided to use the money to take paul to spain. but they stopped in paris on the way and just decided to stay there. which i mean like. taking your best friend over your girlfriend to the city of love is a little weird but it's not THAT weird. it's everything else that makes people want to chew glass about it. including some of the other things on this list. like this audio of john just goofing around singing about paris and paul, with such hits as "my cheri, my pau pau my pau paul." which is :| okay best friend. and paul has this picture hung up in his house that he took of john sleeping in paris. okay. sure. why not. (although ig there's some doubt about if the photo is from paris? either way it's a picture paul took and has framed in his house which is incriminating enough my man). also NOT in the original post but may pang, a woman john had a brief affair with in the 70s, wrote a book called loving john. in it, there's this quote:

After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.”

okay! also in an interview once he said:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing.

(interview with david scheff for playboy in september 1980)

3. if i fell

this one i already made an insane post on that started my spiral into posting about the beatles publicly </3 but, essentially, the song "if i fell" by john is..... well it's most likely about paul. he said it wasn't about his wife but that it was auto-biographical and he never really had any public affairs that weren't flings, certainly not a lover. but most damning is he wrote the complete lyrics for the first time on a valentine's day card addressed "to paul with love" with some hearts and arrows pointing to where the lyrics were written. absolutely insane. made me insane.

4. oh! darling

rawest paul song of all time if i do say so myself lmao. but it's just.... Highly Suspicious, that's what it is. a Lot of beatles fans/historians will admit this song is most likely about john but they won't admit that it's fucking romantic if it is. like.

like that is so blatantly romantic idk what to say other than that. also, in the official recording on abbey road, there's Several points where paul says "darling" that sound more like he's saying "johnny" which is what he called him. people brush it off by saying it's his accent, but there's a very clear difference between when he's saying "darling" and when he's saying "johnny". i mean the Lore behind this is that it was written right when things were splitting up between them (& the rest of the band) so it makes sense and it's why most people are willing to accept it's about john. it's just insane to me that they'll accept it's about john without considering the implications of that.

5. the real life demo

this one made me want to light myself on fire i won't lie to you. but here it is! john had a song called "real love" and this is a very early demo of it. but instead of the lyrics that came to actually be in the song (which are thought to be about yoko but let's not get into the fact that it was on a tape labeled "for paul" but whatever), it includes john fucking crying as he sings saying:

"was i just dreaming or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way... la la la la farm..."

which can quite literally be about no one else but paul, as this demo was recorded when he'd just had two children with his wife linda and linda was pregnant with their third child. they'd moved to a farm in scotland. hearing this audio clip did genuinely make me want to lie down in the dirt for a week. also "i used to hold you in my arms" just... yeah. god. when people think it was unrequited idk what to say, really.

6. If Paul Were A Woman-

shoving these two together but. in april of 85, paul said in an interview about john and yoko's relationship:

"I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, 'Who’s this?' You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…"

okay bestie <3 and what would make your relationship different if you were a woman? interesting! and yoko had something similar to say. in this audio, she says:

"I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul."

just reminds me of being a kid and telling my best friends "if i were a boy i'd date you" lol. incredible. does anyone here know about bisexuality.

7. stuart!

not much to say here except that john had a best friend, stu sutcliffe, who died young & before that had been the bassist in the band. paul fucking hated him sooo much oh he SEETHED. a lot has been written on that relationship but it was.... very interesting to say the least. it could have just been about the band, or just jealousy over john's friendship, but take that with a lot of john biographers suspecting john had feelings/even a sexual relationship with stuart and it paints a very Interesting picture to say the least

8. john's bisexuality

here's a compilation of quotes about it, but john was more than likely bisexual. which has nothing to do w paul, really, but more to do against people that like to claim they were both Heterosexual Men. although an interesting quote in this compilation is him saying he's "had paul" lmfao

9. paul's post-beatles work

there's just.... there is so so so much here i don't even know where to begin. @ringompreg has a good compilation of paul songs here. a lot of them do take a bit of Lore but like..... it comes down to the fact that both him and john have/had admitted many times to using their lyrics during The Breakup Years to talk to/reference each other and sooooo many of these lyrics are insanely blatant. the two i mentioned were tug of war and let me roll it, both of which are acknowledged to be about john by most people WITH NO ONE BOTHERING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT which..... tug of war has this:

we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled? dancing to a beat played on a different drum? this is what gaylors think gaylor conspiracy is but paul mccartney is really out here saying this shit.

and let me roll it is so fucking blatantly romantic but every reviewer is like haha! what a cool song that's "making fun" of john and clearly in his style! like are straight people stupid genuinely. anyway:

bonus to that but about JOHN'S solo work :)))))) he wrote a song called "watching the wheels" and when you consider he very much responded to MANY of paul's solo stuff it's :)

which as a response to let me roll it would just be... so devestating but it may be a stretch idk if i'm onto anything there it's just worth Mentioning

and there's a lot of others, a lot of them in that post up there. like far too many where paul mentions falling in love with a friend like Alright.

10. paul's first lsd trip with john/"i know" "i know"

this one is less blatantly romantic but it is just insane. here's an article. and a quote from george martin about it. the first time paul tripped on acid w john was bc john accidentally took some and he took him home & then took acid w him bc he didn't want john to be alone on the trip :( but, notably:

"And we looked into each other’s eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that’s what we did, round about that time, that’s what we did a lot," the singer recalled, "And it was amazing. You’re looking into each other’s eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn’t, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away."

he also apparently saw john as the, and i quote, "emperor of eternity" during this trip??????? okay

SOMEWHERE i can't find it rn and i'm getting lazy but somewhere they (i think paul?) talk about the fact that they used to just stare into each other's eyes and then say "i know" "i know" which. considering john's song "i know (i know)" makes me crazy

11. in my life/i will

these are really just some devastating songs with lyrics that make you really raise your eyebrows. for in my life, written by john, it's just an incredibly romantic & sweet song that is again, not about his wife. given that the lennon estate is still out here posting pictures of paul to those lyrics i have to say it's a liiiiittle suspicious. and i will is...... it's one that paul insists is not about his girlfriend at the time, jane asher. and when you look at the lyrics vs how him and john met.... like. the song goes:

and the story of how they met was that paul saw john repeatedly before they ever met, when he didn't know who john was other than that he thought he looked cool & admired his sideburns (lmfao). and when they did finally meet, it was when john was singing at a garden fete (party) and paul was in the crowd just Mesmerized. so. well. you can see.... you can see how fitting that is. makes me crazy makes me want to chew glass actually

12. "we were each other's intimates" and other insane quotes

"we were each other's intimates" is a paul quote about john which is just insane but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. here's a ton of quote compilations.

13. "literally everything else"/honorable mentions

some honorable mentions go out to: john going on stage w elton john & playing i saw her standing there and introducing it as "a song by an estranged fiance of mine" okay! the "just like starting over" demos. okay! which isn't even to MENTION the fact that paul locked himself away in the studio listening to "just like starting over" on repeat for DAYS after john died like???? john saying repeatedly that he considered paul & yoko to be his two major partners in life including in an interview the literal day he died. a whole ass rpf movie where they kiss & talk like they're ex-lovers and dance in central park (two of us) made by the same dude that made the let it be movie like. he knew them personally? he worked with them closely? and the only thing paul had to say about it was just essentially that it was what he wished would've happened like???????? i can't find a super reliable source for this so take it w a grain of salt, but apparently paul referred to mclennon fanfiction as "beautiful stories" and doesn't mind them being written. paul also had a cat that had kittens & he named two of the kittens pyramus and thisbe after fictional lovers he and john played and he gave pyramus (the character paul played) to john :|

and literally so much else like all of this and it's not even all of it. it's not even close to all of it. i didn't even get to talk about the way in "get back" the documentary, paul started talking about john leaving the band for yoko and how john would choose her over them and then he got teary eyed, started choke laughing, and then started singing "build me up buttercup" before looking at the cameras and stopping. what the FUCK was that about! IT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE SONG "TWO OF US" THAT'S SO OBVIOUSLY ABOUT JOHN THAT IT HURTS. it's. it's not even scratching the surface. they were just genuinely insane about each other.

#mclennon #this is long but it had to be to expand on every reference i made in that post FJADJFASDF

[whumpofalltime]

friends, enemies, lurkers, we've made it to the

Whump Of All Time Finals!

What's the whumpiest whump of all time? Help us decide!

Find links and propaganda under the cut. Quarterfinalist and later match-ups are untagged, so your votes and reblogs matter! Make sure you click through to the main blog to find the run-off poll to crown third place, as well!

ROTK:

(spider attack, rescue)

"The Lord of The Rings, when Frodo gets bitten by a giant spider and left for dead by Sam at the end of The Two Towers, and then when Sam finds him in The Return of the King being held prisoner and whipped by an orc."

The Young Blood Chronicles (Save Rock and Roll's music videos, Fall Out Boy):

(link)

"Everyone gets bloodied, bruised, beaten up, tortured, rescued, limbs are amputated - it's brutal. Alone Together is particularly strong."

sorry for being late, but you want YBC propaganda? then you're getting YBC propaganda. I know you're a FOB fan, but I will be writing this for the benefit of those who don't know what YBC is, for better propaganda purposes! and yeah this is gonna be LONG. sorry.

So! The Youngblood Chronicles (shortened to YBC) is a series of 11 music videos made by the band Fall Out Boy, for their album Save Rock And Roll (you know this album, it's the one with My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark on it). The whole thing is quite short, less than fifty minutes long (even shorter if you don't count the uncut version's credits!!), and every single music video has some element of whump in it. This propaganda is gonna break down each individual music vid, and at i'll also talk a little bit about the irl context the album was written in, and why even THAT can be a little bit whumpy if you're insane like me!

(note: i'm going in the original release order over the uncut order, hence why i'm starting with MSKWYDITD instead of The Phoenix)

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark: Arguably the least whump-y out of all of them, but man, seeing all of Fall Out Boy's discography and memorabilia be burnt while people are dancing around the destruction? Man, when you know the real life stuff (the reception the band had in 2009, leading to them to take a three year hiatus)... and at the end, you see four guys bound in the back of a van!! And that van is getting burnt!! Burn everything you love and burn the... ashes.

The Phoenix: NOW here's the first of MANY whump tastes you'll get. Patrick Stump, the singer/cutie of the band, gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, has his hand CHOPPED OFF and mailed to his bandmate/best friend Pete Wentz, then gets tied down and utterly tortured by women who are laughing at his misery the entire time, getting prodded and stabbed by tools for... well, you'll see. By the end of the video, Pete and the other two members of FOB (Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley) have been kidnapped by these mysterious women too, with Pete specifically getting kidnapped by the blonde woman he was in bed with when Patrick's hand got delivered to him. If you enjoy cute boys getting tied down, covered in blood, and writhing around like worms while getting tortured... well you'll enjoy all of YBC but specifically you'll enjoy this!! I did :D! The war is won, before it's begun, release the doves, surrender love...

Young Volcanoes: Good news, FOB has been reunited! Bad news, by the women who dismembered Patrick! And now all the band members are tied to chairs, hooked up to IVs full of god knows what types of drugs, and blindfolded (all except Patrick). They are then forced to drink, snort hard drugs, and are force fed Patrick's organs! Yep, all four of them are forced to eat their lead singer's guts, and are so fucking drugged up they don't even realize what's happening (and now you know what the women were doing to him in the last mv, and you even get a nice little shot of the hack job of stitching him back up)!! Patrick hallucinates everyone having fun, but of course, at the end, all of them are knocked out because of the drugs. Americana, exotica, do you wanna feel a little beautiful baby?

Alone Together: This is the song the OG propaganda mentioned, and for good reason. All four of them are shipped off into little personalized torture rooms, and, well, tortured! Pete is able to break out and even steals the hook from the girl who was torturing him, but little does he know that'll be his own undoing... also, in general, this song has some whumpy elements, specifically the line "my heart is like a stallion/they love it more when it's broke-in"... but notice how easy it is to hear "broke-in" as "broken"! At the end of the video, Pete is at least able to find Patrick (Joe and Andy have NOT been having a good time, either!! But sadly, they aren't found by Pete, but Pete DOES find Big Sean), and is even able to attach the hook to the stump (ha!) where his hand used to be. But something is clearly wrong with Patrick now. His eyes are yellow, and as the song ends, we hold on him, sneering and twitching. This is the road to ruin - and we're started at the end...

The Mighty Fall: First off if you say this is the worst song off of SRAR I will hunt you for sport. OKAY ANYWAYS, chronologically this comes after MSKWYDITD, and yeah, the four guys are the members of FOB. Pete is able to free himself with Patrick's new hook hand, and is able to get the other three out while Pete is hacking up a lung from the fire they just barely escaped. But they're not done getting their shit rocked yet. A gang of children show up (the leader being the kid Patrick waved at right before he was kidnapped back in the Phoenix MV), and proceed to separate them and beat the living shit out of them. The leader kid who's chasing Patrick plays something on a boombox... which triggers Patrick to go yellow-eyed again (from here on out i'll call it "going Youngblood" or "Youngblood self"). It was confirmed in the commentary track that ANY music would cause him to go Youngblood. And knowing Patrick IRL fucking loves to create/compose music... yeah! Take something he loves and turn it into something that drives him insane!! I'm normal!! And also the irl parallel you could draw to his solo career doing the same thing to him (on a less uh Dramatic level but you know)!!! Ouch!!!! Big Sean is able to save Patrick, but at the cost of his own life (and a killer rap verse... HELL YEAH I'M A DICK GIRL, ADDICTED TO YOU). Oh, how the mighty fall in love...

Just One Yesterday: The last vestiges of comfort you're gonna get for a WHILE. The four are separated, getting even more beaten up, Pete vomits up a snake, Andy gets his shit rocked by a homeless guy, Joe has to use white sheets as a makeshift tourniquet bc his leg got fucked up in The Mighty Fall MV, and Patrick is picked up by a kind stranger (hi Foxes! you have a very pretty voice! PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!). And finally, finally we get a hope spot. Fall Out Boy is reunited (the part where Andy just grabs onto Patrick's arm, in disbelief they're both alive... augh!!! AUGH!!!!), and for a moment, it seems they've been delivered to a hospital... before Foxes' eyes go completely black, looking at Patrick... and turns on the radio. She's able to trigger the Youngblood. And now Patrick is gone. The other three scramble into the hospital, Patrick not far behind, determined to kill them to stop the noise in his head. If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday...

Where Did The Party Go: Patrick, now fully consumed by the Youngblood brainwashing, is now stalking his bandmates in a hospital. Patrick is seeing visions of the hospital as an abandoned party, Andy has to painfully disinfect the wounds he's gotten, Pete is able to call for the police, and Joe... oh, poor Joe. He barricades himself into a room, but not well enough. Patrick finds him, and kills him, slitting his throat with the hook hand, showing no remorse at all... until Andy and Pete find them. The Youngblood wears off, and Patrick looks to what he's done, and is horrified at what he's done to his friend. And, bad news for him, the police are here, ready to arrest the murderer. All Andy and Pete can do is watch as tears roll down Patrick's eyes. And for the extra IRL context, this was the first song written for the album that made Pete and Patrick realize they had to get FOB back together... so lets match that with a music video where the member who helped get the band together in the first place dies. By the hands of the kid he found. Let's fade away together, one dream at a time...

Death Valley: Joe gets... uh, a little comfort? I mean, he thinks he's getting sent to heaven but goes to hell, buuuuut I think doing drugs in rock and roll hell with Tommy Lee is actually a pretty sweet deal, better than the deal the other three got! Pete and Andy are being interrogated while Patrick is in a jail cell. We find out that the cult that kidnapped them, Silence the Noise, is lead by Pete's girlfriend from WAAAAY back in the Phoenix MV, Courtney Love. And at the end of the MV... Patrick is bailed out of jail by Silence the Noise. They have him again. And this time, they're not gonna let him walk out until he's fully under their control. 'Cause tonight it's just fire alarms and losing you...

Rat a Tat: Silence the Noise has Patrick, and they utterly brainwash him, A Clockwork Orange style, with electroshock stimulation to keep him from looking away or closing his eyes, until there is nothing left. Patrick Stump does not exist anymore. Only the Youngblood, pliant under the control of Silence the Noise, tasked to destroy what he once loved; music. Andy dies at the hands of the cult, and now Pete has to protect a briefcase, the thing that got them into this mess, and keep it away from Silence the Noise, all while his best friend hunts him down. Are you ready for another bad poem?

Miss Missing You: THE WHUMPIEST OF THE WHUMP. What if we were best friends but you've been driven insane and I know the only way to stop you is to kill you and it was my fault you got into this mess and I was the one who gave you the weapon that will be my own undoing. What if we both died at the same time. What if we died, both of us failing the mission we had before us. What if that was a reference to one of their first music videos. What if this song was originally written for Patrick's solo album but he realized it was more of a Fall Out Boy song so it was scrapped until now. What if there's a legit argument to be made that half the lyrics for this song was written by Patrick. What if we were both boys. Grips walls, yeha i'm normal. If you don't watch ANY other music vid, watch Miss Missing You. Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger. The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger.

Save Rock And Roll: And our final track gives us a final bit of comfort. Patrick is able to overcome the Youngblood, and gets into heaven, where all of FOB is finally, finally reunited. God (aka Elton John) gives them new instruments and brings them back to earth, so they can do what they love; play music together. Which just so happens to release people from the control of Silence the Noise! But, because we can't have nice things, a cult within Silence the Noise got a hold of the briefcase, and summoned a spirit that starts to kill everyone. FOB stands together, and blasts the evil spirit, the blood coming up to the gates of heaven and covering Elton John in it. And... that's how it ends. No true resolution. Just Elton John covered in blood, as the song fades out. Oh, no! Wherever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to save rock and roll!

UH. AGAIN I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LENGTH. but i really wanted to express just how much WHUMP they manage to fit into less than fifty minutes, all backed by an amazing album colored by the three years they were apart. colored by how they grew, colored by how bad the hiatus was for Patrick specifically, colored by how Confessions of a Pariah got Pete to reach out to help him, and this album came out of it, Fall Out Boy came back out of it, and now here we are, ten years later, with the title track being performed every night for their concert, with all the band singing the final lines together, and the line you are what you love, not who loves you hitting every single night.

SORRY. LISTEN TO FALL OUT BOY. thanks for letting me rant.

#final round #tournament poll

[muzansfangs]

Enjoy the silence.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, slight somnophilia, oral sex (f!reader receiving), slight overstimulation, morning sex, enstablished relationship, Shinji’s piercing on his tongue is a warning itself.

Plot: you had convinced your boyfriend Shinji to accompany you to a concert. He loved music, but he loathed the band you supported. For the sake of you, he had let it slide, although he complained all the way back to your flat. The morning after, you woke up to an immense pleasure engulfing your nether regions, only to find out your boyfriend’s shit-eating grin giving you a sweet good morning.

Track: Enjoy the silence – Depeche Mode “All I ever wanted, all I ever needed is here in my arms. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm”.

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Some golden rays seeped through the curtains, lazily illuminating the bedroom with a soothing orange light and the comforting warmth of the sun raising up in the sky. It was early, right, and you were still peacefully sleeping into your bed with the white blankets tangled in your legs and your boyfriend’s head resting on your chest. The sound of the chirping birds outside your window woke him up, his heavy eyelids slowly opening to greet the new day ahead of him.

His head ached a little, the aftermath of the rock concert you had dragged him to still affecting him quite badly. Maybe he should have stayed sprawled on your sofa yesterday night. Still, he could not turn you down. Not after the puppy eyes you had given him to his first refusal to accompany you there.

He lifted himself up the elbows, eyes darting on your body and your delicate features. You were still sleeping, chest raising and falling rhythmically, lips parted as you navigated through the mysterious roads of dreamland.

You were so beautiful, so perfect for him, even if you literally drove him mad at times. If he closed his eyes, he could still see you dancing beside him, screaming at the top of your lungs all the lyrics of the band he loathed oh so much. Still, you were so happy and dashing, shining among thd dancing crowd, and he loved seeing you smile like that. Yet, he had to somehow get back at you. He could not resist and restraining himself was not an option.

Being into a relationship for quite a while had granted you the chance to explore each other limits. You had told him more than once in the past that you were not bothered by the idea of him initiating intimate activities, while you were asleep. You trusted him blindly and, being touched by the person that had saved your life countless times in past, felt right, no matter the circumstances.

Shinji sighed, crawling down your body and carefully grasping your left leg to make some more space for him to move during the act. As he switched his gaze from your sleepy face to your panties, he made sure to slip his slender fingers underneath the straps and slowly pulled the item down your legs. A goddess, you looked like a real goddess.

From that position, the former Captain of the Fifth Division could enjoy the way your chest raised and fell in your slow and steady breathing, admiring the gentle curves of your body in awe. His pierced tongue swept out of his mouth, as he was lost into thinking about the way the the metal sphere over his tongue would have soon stimulated your bundle of nerves.

“Here we go, love…” he whispered lowly, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face as he lowered his mouth down to your heat.

At first, you did not even seem that affected by the gentle licks of Shinji’s tongue. You were clearly still too tired for having danced all night long, singing and pestering your boyfriend with facts about the singer only a true fan could know, to wake up right away.

You should have probably clamped your mouth shut on your way back to your flat, but you were too euphoric not to comment on the event you had attended. Maybe, though, you just wanted to enjoy the pained face crossing your boyfriend’s sharp features, whenever you praised the band.

Now, as Shinji delicately gripped your thighs, half-lidded eyes scrutinizing your face in hunger, you could sense something stimulating your pearl deliciously. As you stirred in your sleep, you whined softly and your hips bucked, causing Shinji’s nose to unintentionally bump onto your clit.

“W-What… Shinji?” you whispered softly, eyes still closed as your mouth hung open in pleasure.

“Good morning, darling” the blonde man replied, his hot breath fanning your soaked cunt as he greeted you with his slightly high-pitched voice.

Oh, now you knew what was going to happen.

You sighed and smiled lazily, your hand reaching down to allow you to run your fingers through Shinji’s irregular bob. It was an affectionate sign for him to continue, because he knew you could never get enough of him and his own special way to give you oral.

“Ah, no. That’s not how things work. Your voice is so melodic, ya know? I enjoyed listening to you use your voice all night long yesterday! Use your words for me one more time. What is it that you want?” the man asked, a snarky smirk on his glistening lips, as he flicked his tongue teasingly over your most sensitive area.

Jolts of electricity made your body shake, as you gasped and bit onto your bottom lip in pleasure. He knew where to touch you, how to drive you insane and push your buttons.

“You’re mean…” you muttered, pouting down at him, as you finally opened your eyes and met his bright ones.

And, dear God, what a sight to wake up to.

“Blame it on the Hollow inside me…” he purred, biting the inside of your thigh softly and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down to your heat. His lips felt heavenly on you and the small moans falling from your lips were the unconfutable proof that you were loving his touch and that you craved more of it.

“Shinji, please. Baby, please, I can’t take it… Make me cum” you breathed out, making him wink at you and chuckle at the pathetic state you were in so early in the morning and he had not even involved his fingers yet.

“I got it, I got ya, baby… Now, let me treat that pussy right” he purred, not caring about punishing you anymore, as his lips started to suck at your aching clit passionately.

There was only one thing that mattered to him and it was not driving you crazy, or getting back at you. Shinji Hirako only cared about you, your needs and your love.

No matter how many times he had to follow you down roads he did not like, he would have endoured anything to see you happy. No matter what, no matter where.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I’m sorry for being late with updates, but I have been so busy. However, I have completed another one-shot for my event. Yay, I feel at peace with myself. Why? Because it’s a smutty one and it’s officially kinktober! This is a little shorter than I had originally planned, but I guess it will suffice this time.

Likes, comments and re-posts are appeciated!

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @stygianoir @quinnies-blog @electronicwitchcollection

#shinji hirako x reader #shinji hirako #hirako shinji x reader #shinji x reader #shinji x y/n #bleach x female reader #bleach x reader #bleach x you #shinji hirako x you #hirako shinji

[horrorjunki3]

Texas chainsaw massacre slashers with m!reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of insecurities, sexual content if you squint, Discussion of PTSD and Mental illness for choptop and nubbins and unsafe driving

The reader is meant to be interpreted as a men -> trans inclusive ♡

Thomas Hewitt

♡ I feel like Thomas would like a sweet/kind partner -> he has alot of insecurities and you being kind would go ALONG way.

♡ I personally Headcannon that if Tommy was Queer Lunda May knows and picks up on your attraction to Thomas -> how you react to him is what would save your life! She just wants her boy to be happy after all

♡ His first thought when he sees you was that you were just so handsome and when you smile at him he gets all flustered! -> If you compliment his mask, eyes or hair during this time he will kind off shut down till Lunda May steps in to help!! Matchmaker she is!

♡ He'd think your perfect -> nothing could make this man change his mind - Regardless of your insecurities he'd love every part of you

♡ I think he'd love to see you and his momma getting along! Sometimes when he sees how sweet it is he can't help but pull you away and smother you

♡ His a very physically affectionate person -> However at the beginning of the relationship he is very shy and clumsy about it. Once he gets more comfy with you tho his constantly touching you in very wholesome and affectionate ways like holding your hand or a peck on the cheek -> he was raised to be a gentlemen after all

♡ I feel like Tommy's ideal date is cuddling outside of a night time, just basking in his boyfriends love

♡ when Tommy first asks you out he gives you a letter telling you everything he loves -> although he can't speak it doesn't stop him from expressing his love for you through words of affirmation

Choptop/ Robert Sawyer

♡ I feel like Chop would like a guy who has a unique fashion sense or shares his love for music

♡ He loves passionate people -> if you generally love something with all your heart he just listens to you and smiles

♡ I strongly headcannons that he'd let you live if you're a fan of his band Cornbugs.

-> Imagine recognising his voice and stuttering out that you know him -> name a song you like and he will be so smug and flustered

♡ He'd call you pet names like "Big boy, Big daddy, pretty boy, or babe"

♡ Loves when you call him handsome -> after his plate he didn't think anyone would see him as handsome or love him again -> kiss his plate he will melt

♡ He'd love driving Speeding at night and listening to music -> alternatively he will slow down if it scares you

♡ He'd love if you shared your taste for music with him -> makes him feel like he can understand you better

♡ will write love songs for you and sing them -> sings about how perfect you look when discussing your passions

♡ His extermly affectionate! And will grope you at any moment! Your his man and he finds you so perfect he can't help it.

♡ He'd have nightmares and PTSD flash backs -> will come to you for help because you make him feel safe

♡ Please act like a groupie for him -> he doesn't care if it's real or not he'll melt and kiss you like his starving everytime you do

Cornbugs song reccomendations: spot the psycho, pigs are people too, cornbugs and anything from the album "celebrity pyscho"

Nubbins Sawyer

♡ This sweet sweet boy!!

♡ You pick him up hitch-hiking but alternatively to other people you ask questions, listen and care about what his saying. When he takes a photo of you -> you most likely pay him and ask for one of you guys together bc how could you not? His so cute!

♡ He'd take photos of you constantly -> occasionally he'd let you take photos of him. I headcannon that there's this one beautiful photo of him sorting through photos with a smile and it's so cute. (A/N: I've gotta draw that omfg!)

♡ Tells everyone about you -> asks victims if they think his boyfriend handsome - lord help them if they say no

♡ He calls you "Darlin' , Sweetheart and handsome" -> call him pretty boy he loves it!

♡ His ideal date would be having you in his bed while he takes photos of you -> this isn't necessarily sexual he just thinks your perfect and wants to capture it

♡ He loves showering with you and getting spoiled! His so touch starved and loves to be cuddling you, sitting on your lap or anything he just loves it!!

♡ It's cannon that he has Schizophrenia and there will be days that are harder for him -> please be there for him during these times.

♡ He will tease and mock you but it's done lovingly -> doesn't like it when anyone else does it

Bubba sawyer

♡ Much like Tommy Bubba needs a gentle and kind partner! Please tell him his pretty! Tell them they're good!

♡ I headcannon that Bubbas gender queer and uses he/they pronouns!! Please love and support them! Tell him, he looks pretty when they do their make up!

♡ If your sweet and kind to them -> they'll wanna save you like with stretch! Compliment him and call him how pretty he is and he will choose you over the saw!

♡ Bubbas extermly loyal once you become his family he -> he will do anything for you!

♡ They will carry you - even if you think they can't they'Il make an exaggerated noise and just lift ya! They are sooo strong

♡ Gift giving is there love language and they'll make you little brackets and stuff

♡ His a giant teddy bear and loves cuddles and kisses!!!

♡ They will melt if he sees you Helping them family regardless of if it's to do with meat or cleaning! They love their family and seeing you love them? It's the best sight ever

♡ Bubba wants kids! So he'll definitely want to adopt some lil Bubbas or have some animal babies -> they love cats but are never allowed to keep them:( Maybe if you both beg his brothers you can keep them!!

#thomas hewitt x male reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher x reader #slasher x you #chop top sawyer #thomas hewitt #nubbins sawyer #nubbins x reader #chop top x reader #robert sawyer #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #leatherface x reader

[argumentl]

2024/01/20 aknot only Gorilla Hall Osaka - Report

I only applied for this date on this tour, so I feel super lucky to have gotten it, especially for such an iconic anniversary!

This was my first time at Gorilla Hall, but the entrance process was super organized and easy. I had quite a high ticket number, so was fairly far back when I first got inside, but I could see the stage, so wasn't too bothered. HOWEVER, there are no rails in Gorilla Hall other than the front rail! So as soon as the lights went down for the show to start, there was a big rush forward, and I pretty much found myself nicely mid crowd, only a few meters from the front, shimote of course! Happy!!

From the start there was so much fan service! Kaoru and Die standind together, Die and Toshiya standing together, Kaoru and Kyo standing together, everyone gathering around Shinya....even in the first few songs!

Die and Toshiya in particular looked...close. At one point Die stood behind Toshiya and rested his chin on Toshiya's shoulder, spoke in his ear, and after that even got down on his knees and played his guitar while looking up at Toshiya! 

Yes, I did see the other members a bit this time, haha. There was a spotlight behind Kaoru for quite some time, which would shine directly into my eyes and blind me whenever he stepped out of its beam, so I was forced at times to look elsewhere to save my eyesight 😂

Kyo was still bald, all white make up with black eyes. He looked really spooky. 

Toshiya was in his sparkly dress to start, and for the encore he wore a leopard print shirt, with the tiniest tight shorts ever. I only saw his shorts at the end when he stood up high on the truss, and I initialy thought he had lost his trousers somehow, haha (his shorts really just looked as small as underwear), but then i realised this was his actual outfit 😂 

Kaoru was in his black jacket/white shirt/waistcoat combo, looking like a total aristocrat. Blonde hair, combed back 😍 And for the encore he wore a White Zombie band tshirt! 

Kaoru was using his pink ganesa for Yurameki at the start, but changed to a few other guitars during the rest of the show. He also took off his black jacket few songs in. 

The set list was amazing, as follows:

mode of adam

yurameki

Schwein no isu

Zomboid

Eddie

Mouai ni shosu

Myaku

304 goushitsu

Tsumi to batsu

Obscure

Byou shin

Karma

Unknown...Despair...a Lost

zan

ΕΝ.

Akuro no oka

Followers

Filth

Child Prey

So many of these songs were songs that I was listening to when I first became a fan of Dir over 20yrs ago, so it was actually surreal hearing them all live together like this. Especially having just watched the newly released footage from 1999, hearing Schwein, Tsumi to batsu, Byou shin, Karma together...omg, it was overwhelming! 

And Akuro no oka! The audience was quiet for the whole song, and gave a respectful applause when it finished. It was really emotional. 

My fave part of the encore was actual during Filth! Something came over Kaoru, its almost like he became the song...he was roaming the front rows of the crowd with his eyes, but his facial expressions just exuded the MOST erotic filth! Its like he was thinking about dirty, dirty things, and it showed on his face! If I had been in the front few rows, I would be dead for sure! 

At one point I saw him pointing straight in my direction, with his head tilted and eyes half closed, but that wasn't during Filth, haha. 

I didn't catch anything this time, but I did get watered on by Kaoru, Toshiya, and Die, so Im happy! Kaoru's bottle flew straight over my head, and when I was on my way out I saw a big puddle of (real) blood on the floor where it had landed, so Im assuming there was either a struggle, or someone had slipped on the water that splashed out of it. But there was a venue staff member standing there to stop people walking through it on the way out. 

Kyo, Shinya, and Toshiya left the stage, and then Kaoru smiled and pointed at Die before leaving. The Die came over and tapped the mic, and said, 'Can I say something?' 

He gave a really emotional speech about how they have come this far due to the support they have from fans and people around them, and he acknowledged that Dir en grey will have to end one day, due to the members being only human. But until that time, they will continue to cherish playing lives and being with fans. Then he said like, 'so Im not gonna let you die before us, promise me' 

You heard it everyone, you gotta look after yourself, and keep living for Dir, and they will do the same for you!

#dir en grey #psychonnect #report #osaka

[small-sinclair]

Sinclair Band!Au Headcanons (and a story)

Au by: @arkunder

************

During a show, Bo was handed a gender reveal paper. He looked so confused but opened it. He told 3,000+ fans that a couple was going to have a girl.

They crashed a wedding by accident. They ended up staying and partying! They even did shots with Grandma! Bo ended up French kissing the bride before leaving.

Vincent held a baby during a conference. Why? It was crying in the mother’s arms and needed new arms. So, Vincent took them and held them for the whole time.

Whenever they go out to eat, Lester gets the hottest thing on the menu. He loves the spice.

Bo and Vincent do staring contests.

They play rock-paper-scissors over who does dishes on the bus.

You’ll always find Lester eating the cheesiest grilled cheese whenever he does interviews. He’ll even bring an extra for the interviewer, too!

There’s fishing gear in the bay of the bus. So, Bo and Lester will go fishing if they’re by a lake while Vincent draws or writes music.

Speaking of nature, Bo fought a gator while some kids were swimming. He didn’t care about saving the kids, he just wanted to fight a gator. (He own and dragged the dead lizard to shore, took a photo, and brought it home to made gator gumbo.)

The twins do jam sessions before the show starts. When the roadies are setting up the stage, Bo and Vincent would go out and play chill/vibe music to pass the time. They Vincent takes lead while Bo follows.

When it’s really muddy outside and he’s left unsupervised, Lester rolls in the mud. Bo would yell at him but ends up fighting him in the mud while Vincent watches from the bus with a camera.

Now for a thought (Bo x Reader):

Bo is in love with a sound person, y/n. Every little thing you do makes Bo crazy. He is flirt and a charmer by nature around the crowd and when he performs, but he only wants to win one heart. Your heart is the only one that matters.

When sound check is done, Bo will bother them and talk. No matter what he does or say, he doesn’t get anything from your. He does think about giving up for a moment but the fire gets rekindled after a show. He was leaving stage when he heard drunken fans bother you as you were trying to get out of your little booth. He watched like a wolf, his eyes slowly starting to burn with anger as they started slurring their words and hanging an arm around you. He saw how uncomfortable you were and heard you tell them to leave.

Then he heard a hard backhand against your cheek and one spitting.

That was enough to kill them. He left the shadows and stood behind you, dry blood still on his face from the performance. They were so out of it that your attackers thought it was real and scrambled away. His arms wrapped around you protectively, one over your shoulder while the other wrapped around your waist, as he held you close.

“Don’t fight monsters alone,” he drawled, his voice heavy and smelt softly of whiskey.

You wanted to say something, anything, but nothing left your throat. You leaned back into his arms and rested in his chest as he buried his head in your neck. You could fell his anger boil and fade. He knew you were safe. He knew you were okay in his arms. He knew you were there away from the drunks and the noise. He wanted nothing less that to keep you like this.

That’s the moment he fully fell in love with you and your cotton candy smiles and eyes all over again.

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x s/o #bo sinclair house of wax #sinclair band!au #slasherbland! headcaons #slasher band!au #slasher band au