#A$AP Rocky number | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenofallimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Meguru Bachira with a black s/o

LISTEN!! I picked up the 2 volume of the manga on accident when I went to target and I’m in love w him the man of my dreams!! Not taking blue lock right now bc besides Isagi and kunigami i don’t remember any other characters name or anything about them😅 feel free to talk to me about him tho I have SO many thoughts👀

** can you tell this is just me rambling 💀

Megaru💕:

- this pic gives me butterflies holy shit

- WHEW this man has huge unhinged sunshine energy

- Like giggling and kicking my feet how he’s the happy go lucky character trope (I.e hinata) but they make sure you remember he’s not “soft”

- Like the way y’all be uwuing hinata that is a grown man😐 he was throwing fists the WHOLE SERIES but he don’t know about sex? Bffr

- Anyway he’s definitely a switch but kinda leaning more top? he definitely just wants to fuck he don’t care who’s on top

- He’s so cuddly it’s adorable

- Getting neon yellow nails to match his hair>>>

- Definitely would like to match fits w you when y’all step out

- WOULD GET YOU AN ANKLE BRACELET W HIS INITIALS ON IT SO HE CAN KISS YOUR ANKLE WHEN HE PUTS YOUR LEGS OVER HIS SHOULDERS!!

- Most fashionable couple FR

- Always has to be touching you in some way

- Holding your hand, arm around you, hand in your pockets

- Wants to make sure you’re there and won’t slip away from him

- Imagining him going to meet your family and he’s SWEATING like he knows he’s not everyone’s cup of tea and really doesn’t want to start anything

- “You are good at soccer so you have like + 100 points right now”(watching Latino people watch the football on the Olympics is so scary 😫)

- Imagine your family watching his games😭 embarrassing bc now I’m imagining a room full of dads and uncles glued to the tv and cheering him on like he can hear it💀💀

- “You so skinny you need to eat more!”

- He’s charming your aunties to steal plates from your house

- You get in the car and he has like 3 Tupperwares full of left overs

- Great with kids because they think he’s cool

- he’s breaking they ankles in soccer tho he’s not gunna play nice w kids

- If “play where it’s safe cuz it’s NOT over here” was a person

- Like he can go 0-100 in a millisecond so if someone tries him

- Very “who’s gon beat my ass about it??” Type beat

- People think y’all are so cute bc he’s so smiley and sweet to you

- DEFINITELY says filthy shit in your ear too

- Like he’s cuddly w everyone he likes so you’d be no different but he’s slipping his hands up your shirt

- Number one hype man when you get your hair done

- So extra

- “My baby so cute🥹🥹”

- Box braids are his favorite bc he can put charms and stuff in your hair

- also medium long locs bc imagining him walking up to you and pushing them out your face to see your eyes🥺

- Freak

- Probably sends you links to sex toys and is like

- “👀👀??”

-“I’m a visual learner btw”

- The MOST unserious character in this whole series so far

- His song is rodeo but just the flo Milli verse i WILL NOT ELABORATE!!

- Once he get to doing that thing where he lower his voice just call in sick bc you probably not walking

- Not that he doesn’t care about your pleasure it’s more he’s fucking until HE taps out so your brains can be soup but he’s not done so,,,,hold on?

- If you like me and a few inches shorter than him will be smug about it

- His personality is big enough to count as a size kink but being a little taller makes him get a big head

- Talks you through it the whole time

- Switching back and fourth between degrading and praise so fast it makes your head spin

- “Hm? Don’t tell me my little slut is tapping out? You were begging me so nicely earlier”

- only one who can say babygirl and it not be cringe 🤭

- “be a good boy and spread your legs for me, hm?”

- Really sloppy kisser during sex too

- Will tell you to stick your tongue out for him

- On the rougher side of kinky stuff

- Fucks you like it’s the last time he ever will every time

- Don’t care about getting caught bc either way he’s not stopping

- Probably how you’d end up sleeping w him and Isagi I fear

- Isagi is so sweet and megaru is MEAN

- Isagi trying to go slow and be gentle and Megaru over here pulling your hair calling you a pretty whore

- this man In grey sweatpants would end me

- APART OF THE SHORT KING BIG DICK CREW

- he’s tall by Japanese standards but juuuuust 3cm above average in American height

- he already walks out the shower naked w NO care in the world

- probably walks around the house like that too Ngl

- “I am returning to the natural state of my birth” I will glue your clothes to your body sir :/

- feel like he’s more girth than length like don’t get me wrong he def has a third leg but he’s gunna have to work you open

- “ Oh don’t worry, I’ll make sure it fits”

- Act right dick™️ so don’t push him too far in public

- Definitely a bad influence!! You’re trying to be normal in public and he gives you a look

- Next thing you know he’s on his knees for you in a bathroom or an empty hallway🙄

- In the locker room so many times the rest of his friends already know, and when you two disappear they not stepping foot in there

- Buys you lingerie because he’s your biggest hype man

- When you feel confident you’re the most sexy

- “Mmm you look so good in that cute outfit, you won’t be too mad if I tear it off right?”

- Spreads your legs wide and will make you look in the mirror and watch as he fingers you open

- The type of man who fucks you so good you would get his name tatted on your ass

- Your family actually is probably like “don’t you go corrupting that sweet boy”

- And behind closed doors he’s got his hand holding your hair in a tight fist as he makes himself comfy in your throat

- “Let me hold your hair up for you💕”

- L$D- asap Rocky is also his song

#my writing #x black reader #blue lock #bllk imagines #blue lock smut #Megaru bachira #bachira imagines #bachira meguru #blue lock x black reader #x chubby reader #blue lock bachira #bachira smut #meguru smut #Spotify #blue lock meguru bachira #meguru x reader

236 notes · View notes

awildeternity · 1 year ago

Text

Kendrick Lamar vs Drake, my own little rant

FIRST OFF, THIS HAS CREATED SOME OF THE MOST IMMACULATE MUSIC I'VE EVER LISTENED TO. I AM VIBRATING AND NOT MANAGING TO CALM DOWN, SO I'M GOING TO RANT ABOUT IT. There's so much background to this. Drake was the one to originally put Kendrick on the world stage. Kendrick was literally an opener for one of Drake's tours back in 2012. That was before Section.80, which was Kendrick's first real studio album, and even then it was more of a mixtape at the time. So, Drake and K-dot were always basically involved with one another. However, while I don't know all of the background to it, I'm pretty sure Drake has been taking shots at literally like half of the rap game for the past few years. Future, A$AP Rocky, Kanye, and obviously Kendrick a couple of times. Saying that his first big hit was basically because of Drake, and that he kept doing features with big artists like Rihanna (LOYALTY.) and SZA (All the Stars). This all leads to a lot of bullshit recently. I'm not EXACTLY sure on the timeline (Feel free to correct me if there is anything wrong), but there are a couple of notable events, notably Drake using a *AI VOICE OF TUPAC* in a song (which led to him getting a cease and desist and a LOT of heat because, well, obviously.) Kendrick accuses him of being a culture vulture, basically trying to appropriate the Black US culture that he did not grow up with. LET'S REMEMBER DRAKE WAS ORIGINALLY BORN IN A GATED COMMUNITY FOR WHITE PEOPLE IN TORONTO. HE HAS NEVER BEEN "HOOD", NEVER LIVED THROUGH GANG VIOLENCE OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. HE STEALS ACCENTS TO SEEM LIKE HE BELONGS AND BASICALLY APPROPRIATES THE CULTURE LIKE A BITCH. I'm pretty sure J.Cole also dropped a song that called himself, Drake and Kendrick the "Big 3" of the Rap Game, to which Kendrick responded in Like That by saying "Fuck the Big 3, [] it's just big me." which obviously means that he considers himself a step above both of them. That's basically when we get to the most recent stuff, and the MEAT of the topic. Drake drops Push Ups. It is some tame shit, let's be honest with ourselves. That song calls out the fact that Drake "handed" Kendrick his first number one hit, which, yeah, he kind of did, but whatever. There's picks at Kendrick's height, his foot size, the fact that his label TOP DOG takes 50% (Hence the lyrics "drop and give me 50" and the push ups title, dropping a song and giving TPE 50% of the profits) Also calling K-dot "wiped down" by more popular artists like SZA, Travis Scott and 21 Savage. Also weirdly enough taking a shot at Metro, a producer that had worked with Kendrick on Like That, but like, why??? AND THEN. FOR A FEW WEEKS, KENDRICK SAYS NOTHING. ON TUESDAY OF THIS WEEK, THOUGH, HE DROPS THE ABSOLUTE BOMB THAT IS EUPHORIA. Euphoria is the title of Drake's show he co-produced that got a bunch of heat for having some weird sexualisation of teenage girls, which is already a pretty good hit, but the LYRICS THEMSELVES. KENDRICK LITERALLY CALLS OUT DRAKE ON SO MANY THINGS. Talking about how he's not a rap artist but a scam artist that wants to be accepted (culture vulture, again), talking about the Tupac shit with "I'd rather do that than let a Canadian [] make Pac turn in his grave", once again calling out Drake being fucking CANADIAN and trying to appropriate the culture. Also making a reference to YMW Kelly and calling Drake and J.Cole his "friends" (YMW Kelly murdered two of his friends, hence why that is a diss and not a compliment.) I have to comment on the absolute HATE FEST too. "I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk, I hate the way that you dress I hate the way that you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct We hate the bitches you fuck 'cause they confuse themself with real women And notice, I said "we," it's not just me, I'm what the culture feelin'"

#kendrick vs drake #kendrick lamar #kdot #drake

57 notes · View notes

sophaeros · 4 months ago

Text

julian casablancas for creem magazine, december 2024 (x)

Feeling The Voidz

How to avoid a stroke? Interview Julian Casablancas. By Taran Dugal

It is a horrifically humid September afternoon in Manhattan, the kind where the leaves falling from the trees seem more like suicide jumpers than a physical manifestation of the changing seasons. I find myself seated at a wooden table in the back corner of Lucien, an upscale French restaurant in the East Village that happens to be a frequent haunt of certain high-profile individuals including Bella Hadid, A$AP Rocky, and Julia Fox. The table is laid with a white silk tablecloth, upon which sits a small candle, its flame flickering desperately. Across from me, fidgeting with his coffee cup, is Julian Casablancas, frontman of the Strokes, a New York City band that was heralded as the saviors of rock ’n’ roll in the early aughts and widely credited with jump-starting a number of decade-defining cultural movements, among them the “post-punk revival” and the “indie sleaze aesthetic,” the latter of which centers on leather jackets, cigarettes, and skinny jeans, and which oh-so-many socialites would lead you to believe is experiencing a resurgence in certain low-lit corners of downtown Manhattan.

But we are not here to talk about downtown Manhattan, or cigarettes, or skinny jeans, or postpunk, or even the Strokes. Instead, our minds are on the Voidz—a band Julian formed in 2013 as a kind of Batman to his other project’s Bruce Wayne, one whose music has been described as “dystopian rock,” “Middle Eastern Cyber Prison Jazz,” and, perhaps most eloquently, “battery acid." In three days, the Voidz are set to release their third LP, Like All Before You. I am here to talk about the album with Julian, and I am on edge because precisely 39 minutes before we were scheduled to meet, I received a call from his publicist, who told me that he’d most definitely be in a bad mood. “A bit gruff” was how she put it. According to her, Julian had been subjected to an “awful interview” earlier that day, meaning that he’d fielded questions that only dealt with “the Strokes, the Strokes, the Strokes,” rather than the Voidz, or the new album, and he’d apparently hung up on the interviewer. “If he’s mean to you,” the publicist said, “try not to think too much of it—just roll with the punches.”

I do my best to keep this sublime advice in mind as we settle in. Julian is dressed sharply, if not eclectically—blue jeans, a black leather belt, and a navy button-down, all topped by a beige blazer with a bright orange handkerchief jutting out of its breast pocket. The button-down is emblazoned with a psychedelic pattern that resembles a series of interconnected, misshapen gingerbread men. Somehow, it actually looks cool, although Julian himself seems tired. He’s just made the drive down from Connecticut, where he now spends a significant amount of time. It is not a fun drive, and I can see his weariness dissolve as the steam from his coffee unfurls and makes its way toward his nostrils. He lifts the mug up to his face, blows on it a little, takes a big sip, and lets out a deep exhale. It strikes me that, other than me, Julian, and his manager, there are no other patrons inside the restaurant. It is quiet, save for the clattering of dishware and Edith Piaf’s searing soprano, which is lilting out of the loudspeaker just above us. The song is “La Vie en Rose.” Julian leans in toward me, and, recalling the publicist’s warning, I brace myself for a jab. Instead, a smile creeps across his face. “So what are you looking for?” he quips. “A relationship? Or just hookups?”

The joke sets me at ease. Despite the publicist’s fussing, it seems clear that Julian isn’t pissed off. That said, he isn’t exactly a Chatty Cathy, either. As we ease into things, his cards stay close to his chest. He is intensely self-aware, and the intensity of that scrutiny gives our conversation a distinct rhythm. Julian counters most of my questions with considered pauses, and when he does start to speak, his answers begin at a slow, halting cadence. Eventually, the engine warms up, and these musings turn into fast-paced, expansive rambles that go on for minutes at a time. When they do lose steam, it’s abrupt and decisive. Oftentimes, I find that I’ve forgotten what I asked him in the first place. This isn’t to say that Julian is a bad conversationalist. In fact, as things progress, it turns out that he’s a great chat—his long-winded answers contain everything from self-deprecating barbs to shrewd insights, and for good measure, he throws in a decent amount of obscure cultural references (from Nabokov’s Inuitation to a Beheading to Demolition Man, a mostly forgotten 1993 sci-fi film starring Sylvester Stallone).

I start by asking him about the band’s intentions for the new album. On Like All Before You, the Voidz (consisting of Casablancas, guitarists Jeramy “Beardo” Critter and Amir Yaghmai, bassist Jake Bercovici, drummer Alex Carapetis, and keyboardist Jeff Kite) cover a tremendous amount of ground in 10 tracks and 43 minutes. The album’s opening tune, “Overture,” features a gothic organ that flutters between nostalgia and despondence, and its follow-up, “Square Wave,” is a new-wave number whose chorus foregrounds an ocean of synths that drown Casablancas’ melancholic croon. Other standouts include “Spectral Analysis,” a shimmering composition that sounds like it was recorded in an alternate universe where Bill Evans had never been introduced to heroin and cocaine, and instead set his sights on avant-garde rock—Kite’s keyboard-playing here floats like the mist at the base of a waterfall. The album’s most radio-friendly song is “Flexorcist,” which contains lyrics straight out of a Kerouacian fever dream. The chorus, with its jaunty, headbanging guitars and Casablancas’ vaulting vocals, makes the track sound like it was unearthed from a time vault housing the soundtrack for 2075’s biggest summer blockbuster.

It’s evident that the album was decidedly not made to appeal to contemporary pop sensibilities. Most of the tracks are home to moments that deviate from typical musical norms, like the disjointed, cyclical riffs in “All the Same” and the sinister, pitched-down vocals in “When Will the Time of These Bastards End." Julian is well aware of this. In fact, that was a conscious decision. “I think, before this record, we were still kind of in that phase where we were trying to afford the tour.” This checks out. Virtue, the Voidz’s second album, is far from a conventional rock record, but it is certainly more straightforward than Like All Before You. “There was a moment where I think we all got on the same page,” Julian says of the new album. “We knew we could do something kind of traditional, and if that became popular, then cool, great, whatever. But if we did something alienfuture-weird, some kind of next-level unknown, and that became big, it would be so much more amazing on every level. We were all like, yes, let’s do that.”

It is an ambitious goal, but an unsurprising one nonetheless. After all, this is a band fronted by a man who, at the age of 22, asked the producer of his debut album to make his vocals sound “like your favorite blue jeans.” And yet, despite what the sonics of Like All Before You might lead you to believe, Julian maintains that he isn’t entirely pop-averse. “There’s an alternate universe of popular music,” he tells me. “I hate pop, but the pop on TikTok and Instagram or whatever can be cool. It’s kind of gothy, and there’s funk, and sometimes I don’t mind it. We mixed the chorus of ‘Square Wave’ on a phone to hear how it might sound if it came up on a video of cats, or some glorious soccer goal.” I tell Julian that he’s just provided CREEM and its readers some brilliant insight into his feed. “Yeah,” he smirks. “Cats and soccer.”

After a certain point, I decide to dig a little deeper. There is a certain chord progression used on the album that I’ve noticed in a few different Voidz songs. For those of you who (like me) have not bothered to spend anything more than a harrowing 15 minutes nose-deep in music theory, fret not: I’m talking about the soul-centering, melancholic sequence that takes center stage on tracks like “Human Sadness,” the first single from Tyranny, the Voidz’s debut LP. It’s a herculean, gut-wrenching song, one that spans 11 minutes and several emotional lifetimes. You might also recognize the progression from his work with the Strokes.

“Yeah,” says Julian, “it’s on a lot. ‘The Adults Are Talking’ and ‘Life Is Simple in the Moonlight.’ Even if you go back to, like, ‘Hard to Explain.”’ He pauses. “I don’t know if you know any of these songs.” The thought is laughable, if not humble—no self-respecting rocker hasn’t listened to Is This It at least a dozen times—but I decide not to mention this, and he continues. “It’s everywhere, like on Harry Styles’ ‘As It Was,’ and that one Dua Lipa song.” I ask Julian if he means “Levitating” (admittedly, the only Dua Lipa song that I know), and he asks if I can sing it. I swallow my pride and follow through. “Nah, not that one,” he says. “It’s more like—” and he sings out a phrase in his rich baritone. Here’s some advice: If you ever want to feel ashamed about your own vocal abilities, try going bar for bar with Julian Casablancas.

“I think it’s called ‘Cocaine’ or something,” he says. It’s not—turns out the song is called “We’re Good"—but to his credit, some of Dua’s lyrics are about cocaine. Julian takes the moment to offer a pithy Casablancas-ism: “Getting a boyfriend—bad career move for her. ” He chuckles and then takes it back. “That’s fucked up.” Finally, refocusing on my original question, he issues a decree: “We’re not going to do that progression anymore." Then, a pause. “Well, actually, that’s not true, because I’m working on this new thing.... But all I know is, going forward, that chord progression won’t be there. So enjoy it. Suckle on its sweet juice. Farewell.”

As if to bid the notion goodbye, he takes a swig of his coffee, and I use the moment to flip through the pocket-size notebook I’d brought with me to the restaurant, which is full of scribbled, mostly illegible questions that I haven’t yet considered asking. A woman from Lucien’s waitstaff notices a break in the action and comes up to our table, smile beaming and eyes sparkling. “So good to see you again!” she exclaims to Julian. He turns and responds with a mildly convincing “Yeah, you too.” It’s hard to tell if he actually recognizes her, but he puts in the requisite amount of effort to make it seem like he just might.

As we start talking again, I notice that Julian’s reticence, which so dominated the first half hour of our conversation, has slowly given way to free-flowing dialogue, first about the meaning behind the title of the new record. “I guess it was a lot of things,” he says. “The problems that society is facing, the things we’re feeling...it’s been the same story for at least 10,000 years, probably more. But originally, it came from a conversation I had with Jake, who’s a great speaker and mind and word engineer, and the voice of a lot of the Voidz stuff that comes out. I'll ask him questions as a joke. I think I asked, ‘How would you define everything in one word?’ and he said something like, ‘Soon we will be crusted and dusted like all before us.’ And I thought, ‘Whoa, Like All Before Us—that sounds like a book I want to read.’ So that’s where it was born. It was meant as a kind of all-encompassing, universally defining statement."

This gets us talking about politics, and it becomes eminently clear that Julian has a lot to get off his chest. We end up in a philosophical sparring session, during which he diagnoses the crux of modern society’s ills and the mechanism through which they persist (“Deception is the tool, and money is the weapon—or maybe it’s the other way around”) and ends up talking about the deep political divide in America. I ask him how he thinks we might overcome it, and a cloud of solemnity crosses his face. “That’s the question at the cutting edge of today’s creative mind. That’s our job.” I don’t bother to mention that, in all likelihood, there are thousands of creative minds for whom such a question is—amidst notions of marketability, virality, and data-driven content creation—probably the very last consideration.

Casablancas has garnered criticism for being a conspiracy theorist, and it’s clear that he doesn’t try to contain his enthusiasm for taboo political discourse. That said, I didn’t find his opinions to be all that farfetched. He mentions that “there were half a million children starving in Iraq, and you can trace that to The New York Times convincing everyone that Iraq was going to conquer the world, or whatever.” This is defensible—one only has to turn a keen eye toward the headlines of some major publications to realize the extent to which editorial biases justify violence against the feeble and helpless. Political opinions aside, I find Julian’s sentiment (“That’s our job”) to be genuinely moving. Here is an individual who has, in many ways, conquered his industry. He’s written seminal, groundbreaking records, enjoys a massive, loyalist fan base, and can comfortably sell out venues across the world. And yet, rather than resting on his laurels, he has instead decided to embark on an earnest quest for meaningful change.

Eventually, the afternoon grows old, and the candle on our table drowns in its wax. Julian’s manager comes over and informs him that it’s time to go, but not before we exchange numbers. The next day, he sends me an invite to the new album’s release party, in the basement of a dive bar just south of Tompkins Square Park. I show up late, and the night passes quickly. Just after 12, I find myself in a narrow smoking area, deep in conversation with the owner of a gourmet restaurant a few blocks away. Behind him, the loudmouthed daughter of a billionaire is chatting with a sleazy nightlife photographer. A friend grabs my shoulder and pulls me inside, where dozens of scenesters, artists, and groupies are throwing shapes on the dance floor—but Julian is nowhere to be found. Then, as the hour wanes, his tall frame emerges like an apparition, skulking just outside a private room at the back of the bar. A beat passes, maybe two, and the opening verse of “All the Same” starts to play through the loudspeaker: “Oh, I was wrong, I was wrong. Now I’m a lonely boy. I’m gonna disappear into thin air.” And he does.

#bands #the voidz #julian casablancas #laby era #creem magazine #interviews #some fascinating insight into laby here. dont know how i feel about it #but it's a pretty good interview i think #i like his dynamic w the interviewer #not my scans

16 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 9 months ago

Text

Aim True (Bridglar)

The runner-up of the "country loves songs" prompt poll was: Trick Shot

Virginia City gets cheesier every year. John is just glad the worst of the Nevada heat hasn’t made an early appearance; last year, it reached triple digits in spite of it being only May.

“Mr. Bridgens!” Three of his students wave to him from in front of the “Olde West Shooting Gallery.”

Why they’re attempting a middle English spelling in a state that never saw a British colony is beyond him, but he waves back as he crosses the road to join them.

Ostensibly, this field trip is to cap off the senior year with a celebration of Nevada history. John doubts more than a handful of students see it as anything other than a chance to spend the day browsing souvenir shops, daring each other to go into the plethora of haunted hotels, and gorging on ice cream and caramel apples. But they look forward to it, and he does like seeing the young minds he’s shepherded through AP or standard English have a day to just be young and carefree.

Principal Franklin sets only three mandatory events for the day: getting to the bus on time, getting back on the bus on time to depart, and seeing the live “Wild West” show.

The trio of students tells him all about the Silver Queen as they find seats in the open-air theater. John ends up between Franklin and James Fitzjames, the drama teacher. He wishes he’d taken a cue from VP Crozier and brought a large hat; the sun is baking his scalp, and the flies keep buzzing past his ears.

“Ladies and gentlemen, cowpokes of all ages, prepare for the wildest show this side of the Rockies!”

The crowd cheers with mild enthusiasm; it’s only the 11am show, after all. No one has had time to imbibe from the saloons lining the street. Not that John would anyway; he’d sooner die than be a derelict chaperone.

A stetson-bearing figure bursts through the central curtains and the staff, and a few of the seniors, hoot and clap. Thomas Blanky, former and much beloved shop teacher, gives an exaggerated bow before launching into the same speech he gives every year.

“Howdy folks! We’re just plum tickled you could join us all on this fine, Friday mornin’. We got a real fine show for you today full of sharp shootin, trick ropin’, and the prettiest face in the west” he winks, “the rest of my troop ain’t bad either.”

Bad accent aside, John enjoys seeing his old colleague acting the ham. Blanky runs through a handful of mildly impressive trick shots, including popping balloons taped to the hats of his fellow performers.

Next is a comedy act involving a literal dog and pony (and a cockatoo), the handler going by Irving insisting that the routine is wholesome while his co-presenter and the exotic bird do everything they can to undermine this assertion.

The third act earns an incredibly loud cheer from James and Francis, as well as from the rather odd duo behind them of Goodsir (biology) and Collins (P.E). Lady Silence, as Blanky calls her, steps onto stage, and John is tickled to see she’s sporting period-accurate Shoshone clothing. Her act consists of more elaborate trick shots, all of which she does without uttering even a peep of fear while permitting a tarantula, then a scorpion, then a rattlesnake (“really a gopher snake” Francis mutters, only to be elbowed by James) to climb on her arms and hands.

When Lady Silence is done, she’s followed off stage by the loudest cheers so far, including a “Brava” from Goodsir.

Act number four sets John's heart beating quicker; knife throwing has always struck him as one of the more dangerous endeavors one could pursue. It doesn’t help that Mr. Irving is back, looking a bit too convincingly terrified as one Mr. Hickey outlines his silhouette with knives. When both men exit in one piece, he relaxes and listens to Blanky introduce the final act.

“And now, to close out our show, the amazing, whip-smart, hawk-eyed, Harry Peglar!”

John’s heart speeds up again.

The man smiling out at the crowd with quiet showmanship and earnest excitement has the most handsome face he’s ever had the pleasure to see.

Harry tips his hat and proceeds to shoot smaller and smaller targets from the air. The coin shot is so impressive that he even hands it to Crozier to inspect before and after the shot. As he straightens and tucks the coin into his pocket, his eyes fall onto John

“For this next trick, I need a charming assistant. How about you, sir?”

John blushes, his instinct to demur, but both Franklin and James urge him forward, and so he allows Harry to pull him up onto the stage. Some of his students cheer, and he can tell without looking that many phones are pointed his way.

“What’s your name, sir?”

God, does the man have to address him that way? He can only pass so much pink off as

sunburn.

“John.”

“Tell me, John, do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Good man.” Harry claps him once, friendly, on the shoulder, “you do, however, know what one of these are?” He produces a cigarette from his pocket.

“Yes.” He smiles, “I said I don’t, not that I never.”

Audible shock from some of the students earns a laugh from the crowd.

“Are you willing to hold this in your mouth for me? It won’t be there very long.”

John obligingly parts his lips only to realize, belatedly, that Harry meant for him to take it from his fingers. Without missing a beat, the trick shooter places it against his lower lip with a grin.

“Now, John, I have another question. Do you know what this is?”

He holds a bullwhip up to the crowd to “oohs” and “ahhs.” John, slightly distracted wondering where the man had been hiding the implement, nods. He’s fairly certain James is cheering extra-excitedly; he did make John watch all four Indiana Jones films.

“Here’s what I’m going to do, John. I’m going to light that cigarette for you. And before you even have a chance to inhale, I’m going to put it out from all the way over there.” He gestures eight feet to his right.

Harry looks over his shoulder, still audible to the crowd but with clear sincerity, “Do I have your permission, John?”

He nods again, trying not to imagine all the other things he’d grant Harry permission to do if he gave him that same look once more.

“Wonderful! Let’s have some cheers for my brave volunteer!”

He uses the cacophony to huddle in close to John, who steadies the unlit cigarette steady with his fingers so the younger man can click a tarnished Zippo beneath it. Then, in a blink, he’s out of reach, unfurling the whip and testing it, bantering with the crowd but keeping his focus clearly on John.

“Ready, John?”

Not knowing what else to do and feeling too tense to nod, he offers a thumbs up.

“Hold still now, I’ll have that out for you in three, two, one.”

Crack

His ears ring, though the claps from the crown and the lack of any blood on his face tell him Harry managed his trick beautifully. He holds up the remainder of the cigarette, increasing the cheers.

“Well done, John!” Harry practically bounds up to him, “let’s give him one more round of applause, folks!”

John means to leave the stage to the performers once more, but before he can, Harry grabs his hand and brings him down into a bow along with him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s an hour left to go on the field trip, and John is an extremely icy cold brew that Fitzjames treated him to. Most of the students are staying close to main street, finishing up their last purchases and taking endless pictures of each other.

“They were a fun crowd.”

He turns to find Harry leaning against a streetlight, still in his cowboy costume, ten times more handsome than anyone who ever played the role on screen “school groups can be hit or miss.”

“I’m glad as well; an excellent show deserves an appreciative audience.”

“Easy to put on a good show when you’ve got good help. I, um” he reaches into his pocket, “I have to go get ready for the show at two, but I meant to give you this before you hopped off stage. I always like to give it to my volunteer for that trick. This time I was a little flustered and forgot.”

Harry holds out the coin from his sharpshooting trick, dropping it into John’s palm.

“Oh, I-” He’s not sure if he means to protest, or say thank you, but Harry cuts him off by closing his palm for him, keeping his own hand around it.

“Something to remember me by.”

A flash of a smile, followed by someone shouting his name from across the way, and then he’s gone. John stands, watching him walk toward the theater, and savoring the ghost of those fingers around his own.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late June finds him back in a much hotter Virginia City, the sun refusing to drop behind the mountains quickly enough to provide a much needed respite from the glare. He hadn’t expected to visit again so soon, but Silna and Goodsir invited him to meet them for dinner; the Delta Saloon has begun serving a special, twice-monthly menu of period accurate fare and he’s very excited to see if it’s any good.

Arriving early–there’s been bad traffic the last two days so he erred on the side of caution–leaves him ample time to ponder the historical artifacts tucked away in the corners of the saloon. He’s reading the plaque on the “suicide table” when a figure steps beside him.

“Anticlimactic, I always thought.”

Harry smiles when John looks his way, the undercurrent noticeably changing from friendliness to hope when John smiles back. He’s dressed in modern clothing; a black tank top, tan shorts, and ankle hiking boots (much better protection against the dust, pebbles, and sunburn than the sandals of most of the visitors).

“The story” Harry continues, “that it’s named that when what happened is one or two people might have killed themselves because of losing money at it, not because someone used it in one, or died right on the wood. Besides, if that’s the bar for calling something a suicide table, I’d bet half the slot machines from here to Vegas need the same plaque.”

“Agreed. Though I do enjoy the thought of preserving some piece of the past, even if it’s to make salacious signs about it.”

“Did you come all the way back just to read our signs?” Harry says with a hint of cheek.

“That depends on if there are any you think I’d like.” He turns full-on toward Harry, who aims for a subtle looking him over and fails.

When his phone buzzes, he considers dropping it in the nearest pitcher of water.

“One moment, I’m meeting Silna and Harry, other Harry, that might be them.”

H. Goodsir: Running late, courtesy of the majesty of nature.

Attached is a photo of a herd of mustangs, who seem utterly disinterested in moving from both lanes of Highway 50. He shows it to Harry, adding, “That’s not sarcasm; the man is delighted any time he sees the native wildlife. Which doesn’t always end well; we were driving to a conference in Tahoe once and he stopped to look at a large black bear. Still in the car, of course, but poor Mr. Collins was still rather stressed by the proximity.”

Harry laughs, then tilts his head towards the bar, “Sounds like we might have time for a drink?”

“I’d say so.”

John orders a gin and tonic, paying for Harry’s lager with a playful, “they don’t pay teachers that poorly” when the younger man tells him he doesn’t have to.

“What do you teach? I didn’t get the chance to ask and I’d been wondering.”

“English, two classes of honors and the rest for seniors and a handful of juniors.”

“I hope they get on better with you than I did with mine; we got into an argument over Tess of the D’urbervilles and I’m not sure he ever got over it. The dyslexia didn’t help; he thought I wasn’t applying myself.”

“That’s a shame. There are lots of ways to assist students who struggle with reading, for any reason. And as a teacher, I’d argue it’s part of the job to make sure you do.” He sips his drink, “may I ask what the argument was?”

“I just thought it was worth talking about how Hardy has a lot of opinions on farming and morality for a man who probably never did any farm work. All well and good to talk about the evils of modernization taking us away from nature, but acting like the things that make running a farm ten times easier are evil because they don’t match your imagined idea of the life seemed…shallow. And I thought that might be an interesting angle to look at the book from. Mr. Thompson disagreed.”

“I happen to think it’s an excellent point.”

A shrug and a sweet smile, “Might have just come to me because I grew up on a farm. You grow up shoveling cow shit, you have some thoughts on the pastoral.” He flinches, “pardon my french.”

“Harry, I was in the navy for ten years, I’ve heard profanity that would make the devil faint.”

“That’s why you have tattoos. I noticed them during the show and, um” he takes another sip, licking his lips after in what’s either an automatic motion or a bid to drive John mad with desire, “I’ve been thinking about them ever since.”

He forces himself not to say that if he’s a very good boy, Harry might get to see the rest. This can just be a friendly drink. If Harry wants it to be more that’s for him to decide. John won’t push it.

“None of your own?”

“Not yet. I want to get a line of poetry but I haven’t decided on which.”

John is very glad for this; if he’d managed to get Harry into bed only to find lines from one of the greats etched into his skin, he might have fainted.

“Who are the contenders?”

A snicker, “Thomas Hardy, for one. I do love his poems about nature. I like Whitman too, but it’s so hard to choose…”

They spend a good half-hour discussing the merits, and ironies, or tattooing varies stanzas onto oneself. By the time Goodsir taps him on the shoulder, they’re leaning far enough towards each other that his glass nearly hits Harry’s jaw when he jolts in surprise.

“I was starting to worry you’d be stuck there all night.”

“I’m sure.” Goodsir says with a smile and a glance at Harry that suggests he doesn’t fully believe him, “they eventually realized there were better places to rest their hooves. I got some wonderful pictures though.”

“You’re going to run out of memory at this rate. Again.” Silna keeps her amused look as she adds, “do you want to eat with us, Henry?”

“Oh no, I don’t want to intrude, I was just keeping John occupied while you got here. I ought to be going, it’s not the longest drive back to Dayton but I’ve got a mountain of chores to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, Silna. Nice to see you, Harry, and it was wonderful talking with you John.” He offers a final, parting smile. John watches him go once more, wondering if doing so makes him lecherous, or if he even cares if it does. At the door, Harry pauses, looking back, and his face brightens when he sees John is looking at him. Then he winks and steps into the finally cooling air.

“Your right pocket.” Goodsir murmurs as the waiter leads them to a table.

John ventures a hand into his shorts and finds a slip of saloon napkin next to the coin, the one he’s been carrying like a lucky charm for a month.

Give me a call

It’s followed by a phone number. Harry didn’t have a chance to write it while they were talking, which means he must have done it the moment he saw John in the bar.

Silna shakes her head, “I told him I could just give it to you for him.”

“You trick shooters, you do have a flair for the dramatic.” Goodsir pulls out her chair.

“If we didn't, no one would watch.”

John lets them banter for the moment. After all, he has to attend to the pressing matter of asking if Harry would like to join him for coffee tomorrow.

#bridglar #john bridgens/henry peglar #john bridgens #henry peglar #amc the terror #yeehawgust 2024 #modern au

19 notes · View notes

songoftrillium · 2 years ago

Text

NPC Spotlight: Burned Hide

art credit @morggo licensed to use with permission

CW: Animal death, fire, scars, generational trauma beneath the read-more link.

Wolf-Born, Galliard, Athro Older Brother, Master of the Rite

One day, Ape was sitting on the back of a horse, and stopped at the foot of Dume’fa. Ape doesn't know whether to go around her or try to go over her. One asks a nearby wolf, "Wolf. Does she have a rocky face?" And Wolf says that she does. Ape orders the horse onto her face and gets stuck in her logfall and underbrush. Ape shouts to Wolf, "One said she has a rocky face!" And Wolf says, "One did, Ape, all mountains have rocks for faces. Keep sinking and one will find it, this one is certain," And Wolf howls for one’s packmates to gather. — Burned Hide

Despite having had no visible likeness to her kin, she was the direct descendant of Rala Blood-Claw, and the last living descendant of any member of Tawatuy. Born the pup of a lone wolf and her two yearling packmates, her siblings and she had spent their early years catching trout and hunting for grouse, deer, rabbits, and elk in the fall, moving farther into the cascades over winter when the canyons and high desert turned bitter and cold. This had traditionally been the time when Younger Brother roamed into the region along with the Northern Paiute and Yahuskin, though times had changed since then. Her story began with the fall of Gulaka’i. Her grandmother, Aleshanee In-The-Sun, had witnessed numerous other garou begin succumbing to the Bitter Rage. Heeding the warnings of Muskrat, she had worked tirelessly to save as many wolves around Gulaka’i during the Snake War and the war of Rogue River as she could. She had eventually been taken by a Bitter Rage in her attempts to save more tribe members. Her once sweet, playful nature had been reduced to a frothing spittle in 1867. She was survived by her kin-pack, which had lived in the canyons just south of what is now Valley Falls, many miles away from Dead Mountain. When those wolves roamed too close to the cattle ranchers near Paisley, many ate poisoned meat and died painful deaths. A pack of yearlings had dined on grouse earlier that morning and had not gone on the hunt, sparing their lives. Those surviving wolves formed a pack with a number of coyotes; and in the spring of 1899, Burned-Hide was born.

In 1900, Burned Hide's first change, and the first time she'd channel Rala Blood-Claw, occurred simultaneously. A fire had broken out that raged out of control through the canyon and reached the top of the plateau, destroying 75 homes in Lakeview. When the ash began raining down, she tried to locate her pack. Overcoming her own fear, she let her human mind take over, and ran into the fire. The only thing on her mind had been her family and their safety. She ran across hot coals, and through flame, scalding her paws and igniting her fur. Charred, and choking on smoke, she located them sheltering beneath an overturned boulder.

The smoke was too much and she collapsed. That’s when Rala and she had a whispered communion in a language she was surprised to understand. In their first communion, Rala egged her to her feet, and whispered to her what happened to her Grandmother. To their family’s family, and their families. Rala held out the words and lives of the wolves that came before them, and the wolf, breathless and forgetting her pain, reached out with her heart and caught it in her teeth.

The wolf transformed into her hispo form, and feeling her breath returning to her, led her family to safety. Even with her newer, stronger wolf form, she nearly succumbed to the heat and the smoke, had she not seen a family of muskrats fleeing northwards. She had followed them, fighting against all wolf instincts and fording the creek all the way to Thaervarmet. Despite wincing when she stretched her scars wrong, they had only served to add to the beauty of her heart, and year after year, she ran with the wolves. In her own words, the scars were marks of pride that showed her family just what they meant to her. Her life as a garou was one that saw her be one of few wolf-born to live to old age. Her springs were spent with her kin back home in the canyons where she was born. Among the creatures found there, they include 11 mexican gray wolves, 7 coywolves, and 10 coyotes all coalesced into an informal family of sorts, all hunting together with multiple kin leading.

Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3, Charisma 5, Manipulation 3, Composure 2, Intelligence: 3, Wits: 4, Resolve 4 Abilities: Alertness 3, Assbeating 2, Athletics 3, Brawl 3, Empathy 4, Expression 5, Intimidation 2, Primal-Urge 3, Subterfuge 2, Animal Ken 4, Leadership 4, Melee 2, Performance 3, Stealth 2, Survival 3, Enigmas 2, Forestry 3, Investigation 2, Linguistics 3, Medicine 1, Nation Lore 5, Occult 4, Politics 3, Rituals 4 Gifts: Prey Mind, Beast Speech, Master of Fire, Uncloak the Hidden, Coyote Howl, Scent of Sight, Oaksong, Lore of the Land, Hand of the Earth Lords, Spirit’s Horse, Whisper in the Dark, Catfeet, Distractions, Song of Heroes Rage: 4 Gnosis: 9(3) Willpower: 6 Fluster: 2

Backgrounds: Animism 5 (Champion), Patron 12 (Muskrat 7, Dume’fa 5), Kinfolk 3, Allies 3

Rites: Any Needed Maneuvers: Evasion

Equipment: Medicine bag, Awakened Tarweed Seeds, Awakened Juniper Berries, Awakened Trillium Seeds

Appearance: True to her name, Burned Hide is heavily disfigured, with the majority of her body a lattice patchwork of only partially-healed burn scars covering over 75% of her body. This include some of her eyes, which appears to be blind,doesn’t focus and is constantly weeping tears. Despite this, the shaggy cheek tufts and leaner build present her as a Mexican Gray Wolf, bearing no resemblance to her historic relation. Her expressive eyes are the color of dark juniper bark. Despite her scars, the way she carries herself gives her a sort of Wyld quality that is strangely beautiful, and all conducted beneath a veneer of self-control that belies her passion for expression.

Roleplay Tips: You are bold and unapologetically passionate. You carry the weight of Tawatuy on your shoulders and love in your heart, and become irritable when you’re not feeling heard. Your frequent communion with Rala has instilled in you a deeply-critical view of leadership, and there have been numerous times where you have handed the wheel over to Rala Blood-Claw herself, in a manner of speaking, unleashing a rancorous warrior when you do. You believe she was the true voice of reason in the face of Voruk’ny’ket, and you being the sole descendant of Tawatuy are living proof of that. Your duties to Gulaka’i that pull you away from here are also one of your biggest fears; that you won't be able to keep this family safe. You would give your life to save Gulaka’i, but only if you know your family will be saved. When near the hearts of septs, or in late spring, you are always shaking your head, for all the butterflies that land on your face drink your tears away. Your hidden strength is your Animism. The ability to channel and use up to 5 dice will grant you a base dice pool of 11 in homid form. This could have you, true to Rala Blood-Claw’s form, go toe to toe with Legends and hold her own. That hidden power gives you confidence, despite being small and 76 years old. You’d be a legend in your own right, did you not have Rala’s habit of mouthing off to whoever is in charge.

#world of darkness #werewolf: the apocalypse #dead mountain #werewolf the apocalypse #werewolves #older brother #garou tribes #npc bios

103 notes · View notes

w1ld-wr1t3r · 5 months ago

Note

im loving all your loscar stuff 🩵🩵 them and song number 6?

Oh this'll be interesting! Looks like we're heading back to the Spider-Verse AU yet again!

Quick disclaimer, I was potentially planning to do Oscar/Lily in this series, however I haven't settled on it definitely yet. So I'd say there's a 50/50 chance of this drabble actually being canon to the AU.

This particular scene takes somewhere during/immediately after the second installment of the series (which covers the events of Beyond the Spider-Verse).

6. Am I Dreaming by Metro Booming & A$AP Rocky, Roisee

Oscar panted, gasping for air on his knees. That last hit had really knocked the wind out of him. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

"Stay down. Please. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Oscar coughed, pushing himself up on his arms. A cool, steely anger fueled his movements. Fuck that.

He was never going down without a fight.

All of them had been startled to learn about "canon events." He himself was wondering how you could even tell what was a canon event and what wasn't. Was there really an unwritten rule of the universe that all Spiders experienced the same events? Or were their fates all different, because they were all individuals, not just carbon copies of each other?

In other words: was the universe really so uncreative that it just reused the same story over and over?

Until he was met with true, solid proof of it, he refused to believe it.

Even if some of them experienced the same trials, the same traumas, the same triumphs and failures . . . even if some of them had paths that closely mirrored each other . . . how could they really know that everyone, every single one of the countless possible Spiders, was like that? Had they ever tried to find out?

The answer was no, they hadn't. They'd been too scared by the potential consequences to even think about experimenting. Granted, the consequences were potentially catastrophic.

But when was the last time someone had actually tried to see if they actually had to be feared?

When was the last time someone had tried to write their own story?

Oscar stood, knees and fists shaking. it wasn't just because of his exhaustion. He was also scared of what he could lose right here, right now.

The chance of ever getting to save Logan.

If - if - canon events were true, and they applied to him, then according to fate, he was doomed to lose Logan. Killed while trying to help people during an attack on the city, like the kind, selfless person he was. He would lose the brightest light in his life.

He wasn't giving up on Logan without a fight.

He shook out his shoulders, widening his stance again. He was still waiting for the others to come back - George had gotten tossed off a balcony earlier, and Alex had rushed after him. And Carlos was busy grappling with someone else.

Lando had already disappeared through the portal. If nothing else, if he couldn't succeed in earning the chance to save Logan, then he at least hoped that Lando would have the chance to save Martijn. He hoped at least one of them had the chance to change their fate.

At the moment, Oscar stood alone.

But Spider-Man was strong, even when he was alone.

"Not a fucking chance," he growled, raising his fists. "I'm not giving up that easily."

I'm not done fighting yet.

I'm never giving up on Logan.

#i wonder who oscar's fighting here?#you'll have to wait to find out!#oscar piastri #logan sargeant #loscar #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #ask #spotify wrapped drabble request #spiderverse au

13 notes · View notes

youllnever-haveme · 3 months ago

Text

about me…

hi! my name is sanj and i’m here to have fun and post whatever #girlblogger …

virgo + estj + she/her

favorite movies/shows: Lost in Translation, Lost Highway (hence the username), Apocalypse Now, Blue Velvet, Secretary, Marie Antoinette, Sex and the City, House MD, The Crown, Twin Peaks, Challengers, Freaks and Geeks, Succession, Star Wars franchise, Harry Potter franchise, Wild at Heart, Phantom Thread, sooo many more…

music: Lana del Rey, The Police, Pink Floyd, Chris Isaak, Charli XCX, Tamaryn, Madonna, Sarah McLachlan, Fiona Apple, A$AP Rocky, Mazzy Star, Phoenix, Billy Idol, Simon and Garfunkel, George Harrison, The Beach Boys, Amy Winehouse, Hall & Oates, Air, and a million more…

misc favorites: David Lynch, dilfs, spirituality, angel numbers, cigarettes, polka dots, 90s Liv Tyler, chai tea lattes, messy braids, psychology, Charlotte York, Princess Diana, SNL, Sherilyn Fenn, Aritzia, green tea, warm and dark makeup, Alain Delon, maladaptive daydreaming, Emergency Intercom, Trisha Paytas, etc etc.

Meow Meow, more me…

Pinterest (mutuals?)

Letterboxd (mutuals?)

Insta (mutuals?)

Apple Music

#about myself #about my blog #intro post #girlblogging #looking for moots #looking for mutuals #music #moodboard #lana del rey #film girl #film bro #letterboxd #coquette #ldr #trisha paytas #this is a girlblog #i’m just a girl #follow #follow for follow

5 notes · View notes

blackr23 · 3 months ago

Text

Bottega Veneta Names Stray Kids Member I.N a Brand Ambassador

The South Korean artist debuted as a vocalist with the K-pop group in 2018 with the EP “I Am Not.”

ByLuisa ZarganiPlus Icon

January 23, 2025, 1:00am

NEW AMBASSADOR: Bottega Veneta will reveal Thursday that it has named South Korean singer I.N as its latest brand ambassador.

Born in Busan, South Korea, in 2001, Yang Jeong-in, known as I.N, is a member of K-Pop boy group Stray Kids.

Trained at JYP Entertainment, I.N debuted as a vocalist with Stray Kids in 2018 with the EP “I Am Not.”

“I am honored to join Bottega Veneta as brand ambassador,” I.N said. “As someone who loves fashion and knows the commitment it takes to master a craft, I am excited and inspired by Bottega Veneta’s incredible artisanship and its spirit of self-expression. The opportunity to represent the house and share its vision really means a lot to me.”

I.N has been named Bottega Veneta’s brand ambassador.

In September, I.N appeared at Milan Fashion Week to attend Bottega Veneta’s spring 2025 show, sitting next to A$AP Rocky and Kendall Jenner.

Stray Kids set a new milestone by becoming the first act in the history of the Billboard 200 to debut at number one with their first six charting albums.

I.N has cowritten and co-composed tracks “Hug Me” and “Hallucination.”

He joins other Bottega Veneta brand ambassadors: Thai actor and model Jirawat Sutivanichsak, known as Dew; Chinese diver Guo Jingjing; Australian actor Jacob Elordi; actresses Julianne Moore and Michelle Yeoh; South Korean rapper, songwriter and record producer RM; actresses and models Shu Qi and Kanyawee Songmuang, known as Thanaerng, and actors Terrance Lau and Yo Yang.

The Stray Kids group has caught the attention of international fashion brands. It comprises seven other members in addition to I.N: Hyujin, Bang Chan, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Lee Know and Changbin.

Last week Fendi named Christopher Chahn Bahng, known as Bang Chan and the leader of the group, its new brand ambassador. Hyunjin is an ambassador for Cartier and Versace and Felix is a house ambassador for Louis Vuitton.

Last year, wearing Tommy Hilfiger, they made Met Gala history as the first K-pop group to attend the annual event.

Bottega Veneta is in a transitional phase as Louise Trotter will take on the role of creative director of the brand, joining from Carven at the end of January. She succeeds Matthieu Blazy, who will join Chanel in the first half of the year.

#i.n #yang jeongin #stray kids #bottega veneta

4 notes · View notes

lift-heavy-be-gay · 5 months ago

Note

spotify 14, 29, 32, 55, 82, 91! 🕺

#14 - this song is fucking vibe

#29 - fun, feel-good, upbeat song

#32 - ngl, zack fox should get more recognition for his work, because the man puts out great music, this song is unironically good

#55 - this movie came out last year and i still havent stopped listening to the album, metro boomin was number 3 in my top artist list in 2023

#82 - a goofy song that also unironically goes hard

#92 - discovered this artist earlier this year and i can honestly say that i enjoy all the songs she puts out, shes number 3 on my top artist list for 2024

#thank you sm for the ask <3 #spotify wrapped 2024 #spotify wrapped

3 notes · View notes

kmp78 · 6 months ago

Note

https://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/features/g4612/hottest-men-of-all-time/

Scroll to number 18😏 It’s a rating from 5 days ago

That's fucking ridic... 😂

I do agree with #1 tho but still that's just a random collection of dudes. 😂

4 notes · View notes

kuiperblog · 7 months ago

Text

It's still possible to find success later in life

I'm frequently shocked by the number of 19-year-olds saying some variation on "it's so over for me" or "I'm cooked" or however it is that the kids these days express that their best days are behind them.

On a certain level, would be easy for me to laugh at them. "19 is still so young!" my millennial peers might say. It's absurd for a literal teenager to feel like they're a washed-up "has-been."

But on another level, I understand why 19-year-olds feel "cooked" in a way that their older peers don't. College is often the stage of life where many come to realize that they've lost their "child prodigy" license.

Part of this comes from the fact that as you climb up the educational ladder, you're no longer a big fish in a small pond. The kid who was in the top 10% of their class in high school who gets into a "good university" will likely end up classmates who were also in the top 10% of their class in high school, and by the inevitability of mathematical necessity, half of those kids will realize that within this new context, they are below average. It can feel crushing to go from being the smartest kid in AP calc to being in the bottom quartile of your class.

And in a much more profound sense, it's the point in your life where you realize just how big the ocean is. High school graduation marks the last point in your life where you can get "perfect marks" by following the path of least resistance. I remember being in my senior year of college, listening to my fellow mechanical engineering students chattering about all of the various certifications they were studying for. I had never even heard about this -- "huh? Apparently some states require you to pass an exam to be certified as a 'Professional Engineer?' Is this something I need to study for?" It feels as if you're expected to suddenly know a lot of things that are outside the curriculum.

The thing I think we all eventually come to realize is that everyone is in this boat. Even some of the biggest success stories had "slow starts" while they took their time to figure things out.

So, in the spirit of offering encouragement to those young'uns and 19-year-old "has beens," here are some stories about famous people who didn't find success until later in life:

Sylvester Stallone

Sly Stallone's story truly is an inspirational overnight success story. Obviously, he's famous for being Rocky Balboa -- but when he showed up to the where Rocky won three Academy Awards, he was 30 years old. He didn't even finish writing the famous screenplay until he was 29 years old!

Tina Fey

Tina Fey made history as the first woman to become head writer of SNL, but she didn't achieve this until age 29. What's more, she had to grind for years to reach this point -- she first got hired to write for SNL at age 27.

Stephen King

Stephen King didn't sell his first novel (Carrie) until he was 26 years old. Up until that point, the only things he'd ever had published were short stories. What's more, he only got a $2,500 advance for Carrie -- he didn't really "make it" as a pro author until after the book came out and started selling gangbusters, with the paperbook rights selling for $400,000 -- this didn't happen until King was 27 years old!

Steve Jobs

Funny enough, I've seen a lot of people point to Steve Jobs as an example of an "early life success story" because Steve Jobs was a 21-year-old college drop-out when he co-founded Apple. And while it's true that Apple did have some early success stories, like the Apple II, the company didn't IPO until three years after that. After the IPO, his net worth was measured in hundreds of millions of dollars, but he had to grind until he was 25 years old to reach that point!

Jennifer Lawrence

A lot of people saw Jennifer Lawrence portray a teenage Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games and assumed that she was a teenage success story. Not so! JLaw was actually 21 years old at the time, proving that even if you don't achieve success in your teens, it's still not too late to achieve fame and success. She didn't even win an Academy Award for Best Actress until she was 22.

In short, if you're 19 years old, it's not "too late" for you. You are not "cooked." There's no reason to think you are too old or need to give up on your dreams and ambitions until you hit your early 30's, at which point if you haven't become a famous multimillionaire it's pretty much over for you.

#movies #steve jobs #jennifer lawrence #stephen king #sylvester stallone #tina fey

6 notes · View notes

conceptfashion · 6 months ago

Text

— Some of my opinions on the newest ‘Hottest Brands’ ranking Lyst for Q-3 of 2024

To start off, Miu Miu is once again locked into that number one spot, something I can't help but agree on. Every publication that we've seen from Miu Miu over this time period has been nothing but praised. My personal favorite of these being Miu Miu's 2024 campaign with Cara Delevingne.

Past that, I'm a bit impartial to Loewe's current standing on the list. They've been formidable and what they've put out for the other quarters of the year and have help their top spot on the list very well, but as for this quarter specifically, there isn't a deciding factor on their standing.

Although, Alaïa's 12 ranking raise is something I can totally get behind. Similarly to Miu Miu, every time the brand has been brought up in the eyes of the public, only good things have been able to be said. Furthermore, even past the fashion, Alaïa has been in constant fashion buzz and circulation amongst celebrities and fans. Rihanna, Jennie, Ariana Grande, Nicki Minaj, Taylor Russel and more front-page celebrities have all been rightfully directed by their stylists into popping out at events in gorgeous Alaïa pieces keeping the brand at the forefront of everyone's mind. Pieter Mulier has been doing an amazing job directing the brand.

Between Bottega Veneta and Saint Laurent, the two are in pretty interchangeable positions, though I do believe Alaïa should've been placed above both. But both of these brands have had their public interest peaked this quarter by the names involved with the brand. Saint Laurent's with Bella Hadid's return to modeling at their show and Rose's appearance as well; and Bottega Veneta with A$AP Rocky's multiple instances of campaign involvement alongside Jacob Elordi's ambassador title bringing in buzz with speculation of an upcoming role in a new rendition of American Psycho.

In regard to the lower half of the List, the majority of the movement among the charts is pretty fairly justified, though with reasonable room for discourse. Though in Coach's respect, climbing 5 slots on the list was something I wasn't expecting at all, and definitely don't think is justified. The brand hasn't been the most favorable in public view in despite of how much they've been pushing out for the world to have. With multiple collaborations over the period of the last quarter, the brand's biggest mishap in the view of the public had to have been their display at NYFW, as it received quite a bit of mixed reviews, if even covered at all.

Though, to my surprise, Diesel has been removed from the chart entirely. Glenn Martens' recent pull away from Y/Project in light of how poorly the brand had been doing financially, in conjunction with the team at Lyst no longer viewing Diesel as a competitor on the chart personally raises a lot of questions, though Diesel has had very promising publications in the quarter including their Denim Wedding campaign and all denim MFW show set. Hopefully they make their way back into the list in 2024's final quarter with Glenn Martens now having only Diesel to direct.

#luxury fashion #archive fashion #fashion week #high fashion #menswear #luxury #fashion #fashion model #designer #fashion show #lyst #lyst index

1 note · View note