#sunshine daydream 'verse

[hearts-hunger]

i'll be seeing you || sam kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: When you're sad, Sam knows just how to comfort you. || Standalone in the Sunshine Daydream universe

Pairings: Sam x Reader | Genre: fluff, h/c | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: none, unless you count being sad about space

A/N: Truly I don't know where this even came from but as soon as I thought of it I knew it was perfect for space buff Sammy and his Birdie baby. I hope you like it! ♡

Swiping your wet face with your sleeve, you blinked and tried to see the television screen through the blur of tears. Your throat was tight, a hot, choked feeling of rising emotion flooding you the longer you watched; when you finally couldn't keep back a sob, it felt almost satisfying to let the wave crash over you. 

The spunky, sweet little face of Laika the space dog filled the screen, bringing another crumpled sob out of you as the narrator spoke somberly of her one-way trip into space. You didn't know why you'd picked the documentary to watch while you sat on the living room floor and folded laundry; you knew it would only made you sad, and here you were, crying your eyes out as you stacked Sam’s folded shirts in a neat pile.

Maybe you'd needed a good cry. There was something relieving in expressing this grief for the little Soviet pup who’d trusted the hands that finally took her off the street only to send her some place they knew she wouldn't come back from. You thought of your own puppy, your sweet Rosie, and felt another wave of sadness at the thought of her all alone, waiting for someone to fetch her back home. 

When the documentary ended and the credits rolled with another picture of Laika, the caption bearing a memorial to her and all the other animals that had furthered space exploration, you cried like a baby.

“Oh, man,” you said, burying your face in a warm dish towel fresh from the dryer. You laughed a little at your own headlong rush into a bona-fide crying jag. “This was so stupid.”

You went to put on the next recommended documentary, one about the Mars rover Opportunity that you knew would make you cry just as hard, for some reason wanting to keep the weird high of catharsis going for a little longer. You put on another load of laundry while it played, listening to the story of the little rover’s explorations and discoveries, sniffling over your dryer sheets and laundry detergent.

The front door opened just as the movie was telling you that the scientists at NASA played Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” for Oppy in their final transmission. You were in the middle of bawling your eyes out but quickly turned the TV off and dried your face, a little bashful to have Sam find you in such a state by your own doing; you couldn't hide your blotchy face and red eyes, but you tried your best to look presentable and mentally stable as your boyfriend and your puppy came in.

Rosie came in first, padding right into the living room to greet you with her wagging tail and lolling tongue. Her fur was a little damp; it looked like the end of her walk had been a rainy one, but you knew she’d enjoyed it. You didn't even mind her wet paws tramping over your unfolded laundry, scuffing your hands over her fur and kissing her soft head.

“Oh, Rosie,” you said miserably. “I’ll never send you into space. Never. I promise.”

She gave a soft bark as if to agree with you. You buried your face in her fur and felt more tears track down your face, comforted by her warmth and happiness to see you.

You took a deep breath and held Rose's face for a moment. “I look like a mess for your daddy, don't I?”

She licked your face, and you gave a watery laugh. 

“Okay, okay,” you said. “You’re right. Let me go wash my face.”

You went to splash cold water on your face, wincing a little at your disheveled, emotional appearance in the mirror, but there was nothing to be done for it. You went to put on a kettle, thinking Sam might like something warm to drink after his chilly, rainy walk.

“Hi, birdie baby.”

You smiled as Sam came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You turned your face for a kiss, and he happily obliged.

“How was your walk?” you asked.

“Wet.” He kissed your cheek and drew back to brush his rain-damp curls from his face. “Rosie got into some puddles, so she has a good time. How are you? Feeling any better?”

You'd declined to go on the walk with them, needing some time alone after work to decompress. Before you could tell him you were feeling nice and rested now, though, he saw your face for the first time since he'd come home.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, bewildered and worried. He shifted into panic mode, hovering like a mother hen. “What’s wrong, birdie? What happened?”

You were a little embarrassed to tell him, but you couldn't let him worry. 

“Nothing happened,” you said gently. “Nothing’s wrong.”

The kettle whistled, and you moved to take it off the heat. He only watched you as you started to make two cups of tea.

“Why’re you crying, then?” he asked.

You gave a rueful, wobbly smile. “It’s silly, really.”

He came close, then. “It’s not silly if it made you upset, birdie.” He accepted the mug you gave him. “Thank you. Please tell me why you're crying, sweetheart. Let me help.”

You sighed. “I watched a movie,” you said. “Two movies, actually.” Just the thought of Laika and Oppy was enough to make you feel al l twisted up inside again, and you blinked tears away. “It was stupid. I shouldn't have watched them.”

Sam huffed a bemused and mildly concerned laugh, seeming relieved it wasn't anything serious but still sensitive to your obvious emotional distress.

“What kind of movies, honey?”

You buried your face in your hands. “One about Laika, you know, the space dog? And one about Oppy the Mars rover.”

“Aw, birdie.” He pulled you in for a hug. “Made you said, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said pitifully, your head thumping against his chest. “It’s awful, Sam. Both of them being sent up there all alone. Those poor babies.”

He chuckled, and the sound was warm and rumbly in his chest. 

“I know it's sad,” he said. “That’s why I would never in a million years watch a movie about either of them. I'd have to check myself into a mental institution, I’d be so torn up about it.”

You took a deep breath and ran your hands over your face, your skin hot and your eyes stinging.

“Yeah. You might have to check me in now that I've watched them.”

Sam breathed a sympathetic laugh, brushing your hair from your face. 

“Silly girl,” he said. “If I'd known you were gonna watch sad documentaries while I'm gone, I would have made you come on our walk with us.”

You smiled. He knew you liked to go with him and Rosie for their evening walks around your quiet neighborhood, but you'd been tired and emotionally off-kilter after work today and had needed some time alone. He hadn't complained, had merely given you a kiss before he left, but now he'd come home to find you in tears over something as silly as a space documentary.

“Did it help, at least?” he asked kindly. “Sometimes it's nice to get out a good cry.”

You nodded and leaned into his touch. “It’s weird. But yeah, it helped. I’m glad you're home, though.”

He smiled. “Me too, birdie.” He gave you a smooch on your forehead before he pulled back from you. “I’m gonna get dinner started. Put on something cheerful if you're gonna watch anything else.”

“There was another one that sounded interesting,” you said, leaning against the counter to sip your tea. “It’s called Challenger: The Final Flight.”

“Oh, super,” he said dryly. “The one where the shuttle blows up before it even gets out of the atmosphere. That’ll be uplifting as hell.”

“No, is that really what happened?” you asked. Sam was nothing if not a space history buff, so you had no reason to doubt him, but you almost wanted to watch it.

“You can't watch that one right now, birdie,” he told you. “Not unless you really want to spend the whole rest of the night crying.”

You hummed. “Maybe I do.”

He laughed. “Well, I don't think I do. So let's save that for another night.”

You stayed in the kitchen while he worked, enjoying his company; Rosie padded in and settled under the table with a squeaky toy, chewing on the matted shape that had been so well-loved that you couldn't determine what kind of toy it had been originally.

You cradled your mug and breathed in the fragrant steam, watching Sam move about your kitchen in the familiar, domestic rhythm that always brought you comfort. He set soup to cooking, insisting that you needed something warm and hydrating after all that crying, and worked on it on as the rain pattered gently on the window.

“Bad day at work, birdie?” he asked, chopping up vegetables to go in the dutch oven of simmering broth.

You sighed. “Sort of. Exhausting is the best word for it, I guess. I was just really tired all day.”

He put his hand to your forehead, feeling for fever, and you breathed in the earthy, fresh scent the veggies had given him.

“You’re a little warm, honey,” he said. 

You sighed. A fever would explain the hair-trigger emotions you'd battled all day, as well as the fatigue that you couldn't quiet shake. Sam got you some medicine and coaxed you to take it with your tea.

“Why don't you call out for tomorrow?” he suggested. “I’ll stay home too, and we can cuddle in bed all day.”

That did seem awfully nice. It was supposed to rain all night and all day tomorrow, and spending the chilly, rainy day in bed with Sam sounded a lot better than going to work.

“Okay,” you agreed. You texted your boss and set your phone aside, ignoring the messages and emails with the assurance that they'd still be vying for your attention when you were feeling better.

“How was your day?” you asked.

He tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the dutch oven and leaned against the counter.

“Good,” he said simply. “We got a lot done. Danny had to leave early to do something with Sunny, so we just decided to call it quits when he left. Can't do much without the heartbeat of the band, now can we?”

You smiled. You liked how all the guys valued the others’ unique talents and input into the music, and nobody knew better than them how much each of them contributed to the magic of the band. You remembered that Sam had been working on a new song, and you wanted to know what the boys had thought of it.

“How’d they like your new song?” you asked.

He grinned. “Smash hit, birdie. They loved it. Jake came up with some really cool licks for it, and of course Josh fixed up the parts of the lyrics I wasn't so sure about.”

“Aw, honey, I'm glad. I knew they'd like it.”

You set your mug on the counter and crossed to him, and he knew without you having to say anything that you wanted a hug. He held you close and squeezed you tight, giving a contented little groan as he did.

“I missed you today,” he said. “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” He kissed your nose. “And I'm sorry you made yourself sad watching movies you knew better than to watch.”

You gave a soft laugh. “They were pretty good, actually. Even if they were sad.”

He cradled your face in his hands and kissed you gently.

“I love you, birdie,” he said, tender and amused. 

“Even when I make questionable viewing choices?” you teased.

He smiled. “Yep. Even then.”

You lingered in the kitchen with him while dinner cooked, and you sat catty corner to him at the table while you ate, Rose safely between the two of you, dozing at your feet. When you'd tidied up after dinner, you joined him out on the porch to watch the rain while he smoked a cigarette, sipping your next cup of tea that you knew would be a staple of the homespun, gently effective doctoring Sam was planning to give you.

“You want to know something?” he asked.

You snuggled close to him. “Yeah. Tell me.”

He looked up at the hazy sky, his features gentle and tired and thoughtful.

“The first time I learned about Laika,” he said, “I came up with a better ending for her story.”

Your heart tilted. “What was it?”

He let out a slow breath. 

“I imagined she got out somehow,” he said softly. “That the man in the moon got her out of that death trap of a spaceship and took her with him. I laid awake in bed all night, looking at the moon through my window, thinking about her running around in the stars, chasing comets, playing with the bears of the Ursa constellations.”

He looked over at you, and for a moment, you saw a much younger Sam and felt the grief and love he’d felt for that little space pup.

He smiled. “I think she's happy, birdie,” he said. “I think she’s okay, somewhere out there.”

You felt the sting of tears again, and he chuckled softly as he cupped your cheek and brushed away the few that fell.

“Aw, honey, I didn't mean to make you cry again,” he said, soft and affectionate.

You gave him a watery smile. “I’m glad you told me that, Sam. It makes it better.” You thought his imagination was a very wonderful and tender place, making up songs and stories and pictures of playful starlight puppies and their kindly moonbeam companions.

“Can Oppy be with them too?” you asked. You wanted her to have a happy ending like the one Sam had imagined for Laika.

He smiled and gave you a gentle kiss. “Sure she can, birdie. They're both running around up there together.”

You wrapped your arms around him and rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the rain fell. Loving Sam was so easy, as natural as breathing, and moments like these had always shown you that love was supposed to be gentle. Before Sam, you hadn't been sure what love was supposed to feel like; with him, you knew in every part of you that love was safe and tender, that it was made of shared sadness and joy, music and laughter and tears and stories that washed over your life as effortlessly as the tide, as steadily as the rain, as gently as the light of the moon.

“What was the song they played for Oppy when she powered off?” he asked. “I feel like I remember them playing a song for her.”

You snuggled closer. “‘I’ll Be Seeing You,’,” you said. “Bille Holiday.”

He rested his head on yours and hummed a little of Oppy's lullaby.

“I’ll find you in the morning sun,” he sang, his voice soft and beautiful and very gentle. “And when the night is new, I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.”

You hugged him tight.

“I love you, Sam,” you said softly. “Thank you for being so good to me.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Sweet birdie,” he said gently. “You're welcome. I love you too.”

taglist: @viagvf @allieisacrybaby @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @anthemheatwave @xserenax-13 @musicspeaks @mountain-in-springtime @stardustsecret @alwaysonthemend @madneedshelp @josh-iamyour-mama @dannythedog @thecoldwind @woyayaofdreams @joshkiszkapunchmeintheface @lostoverseer @jakesguitarpick @heartcannotsow @kissingkiszka @gold-mines-melting @lizzys-sunflower @iluvjoshkiszka @musicislove3389

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[sunshine-sparkle]

[cruel-kaya]

@chand-ki-priyatama ll @saagar-jaisi-aankhonwali

@kaya-being-an-academic

If you landed here just know I am "Kaya" ~ a sixteen year old poetess , daydreamer and a writer....

I am a sunshine core girlie although I associate myself with "Moonshine" cause being it you can light up someone's life in their darkest hour....

You can find me writing incomplete verses of my poems here or sometimes just sitting and humming a song....

Sometimes you'll see me sharing my miseries here or sometimes just presenting my inner monologue....

This blog is sort of my retreat , my safe space from the chaotic side of the world....

I want to fly in this world rather than being captured

I can feel emotions on a deep level

I am like an ocean full of infinite musings

I was never meant to be understood , I was crafted to write....

People say I talk like a book

But to me I am just "Moonshine" for I want to be the shine to someone's moon....

But I haven't found my moon yet so I keep on writing for someone whom I have never met or seen....

I am obsessed with dark academia , moon , poetries , animals , and many more things....

Art has always been a solace for me...

i am a friendly person , so feel free to reach out to me <3

Also I am in love with the idea of being in love , a hardcore inherent romanticist....

[arialerendeair]

Dreamling Fic Masterpost

Dreamling Masterpost

Decided it was high-time that I made a Masterpost of my Dreamling content because I have much of it! So here it is! If a fic is a part of a series, I'll link the series. All fics are complete unless listed in progress!

Bingo Masterpost | Ao3 Collection

An Immortal, an Endless, a Human-Turned-Dream-Eager Walk Into A Bar (and find a Missing Ray of Sunshine) |  15k

Those Who Kink Together, Stay Together | 4k

My Heart’s Protector | 5k

Make It Count | 120k

Well Matched | 31k

Dreaming of Warmth | 1.1k

Weathering A Storm | 11k

Synthetic Dreams | 7k

The Heart of an Endless | 4k

Half Your Age Plus Seven… Billion? | 10.7k

My Stranger | 6k

Iustitia | 9k

The War for The Dreaming | 32k

A Husband, A Consort, A Nightmare | 9k

Common Dating Misconceptions | 6k

A Bastion of Warmth | 7k

Ye Olde YouTube Love Story | 7k

The Not-So-Accidental Baby Acquisition | 5k

A Worthy Proposal | 7k

Hope of the Endless is Created, Taught, and Courted (Mostly In That Order) | 23k

Drifting with Dream | 12k

Dragon Wars | 39k

Summer Rain | 5k

Shifting Gears | 5k

The Barghest Nightmare | 19k

Hopefully Verse

Hopes & Dreams | 35k

Hoping Dinner Goes Well | 9.5

A Symbol of Hope | 3k

Hope Holds the Gates | 5.5k

Shattered Hopes and Rebuilt Dreams | 6k

Hope Destroys to Build Again | 4k

A New and Hopeful Future | 5k

The Art of Weapon-Related Seduction (As Observed by Hob Gadling & Dream of the Endless) Verse

The Art of Seduction Via Longbow | 12k

The Continuing Art of Seduction Via Weapons Demonstrations (And Leather Pants) | 11.5k

The Art of Nerdery (and Seduction) Via Lightsabers | 4k

Checkmate Verse

Discover Check, and Incidentally Mate | 6k

The Grandmaster Title (And Reward) | 13k

Dreamling Week 2023

A-Courting to You | 1.1k

Dragon Bonded | 5k

Anything | 3k

Pretending! Unless... | 4k

Jealousy Does Not Become Him | 4k

Or | 2.5k

All in a Day's Kidnapping | 6k

Standalone Dreamling Fics

Alexander is Endlessly Surprising | 30k

Vengeance Burns | 4k

The King Consort Goes to War | 8k

Nightmaric Catharsis | 15k

The Price | 22k

Begin, Muse, when the two now break and clash, Dream of the Endless and Lucifer Morningstar | 9k

The Decline in the Art of Kidnapping | 4k

Necessary Friction | 5k

Torment | 8k

Daydream in Love | 5k

In the Rain | 2k

Broken Pots Still Hold Water | 9k

A Dream of Rescue | 51k

Five Times the Dreaming Needed Dream - and One Time They Needed Each Other | 8k

Rescuing Hope of the Endless | 9k

On Fierce and Wild Wings | 33k

Hob Gadling, King Consort (And Friends) | 12.3k

Into the Unknown, Together | 4k

Learning to Say Goodbye | 1k

Struggle | 1.1k

The Storyteller | 2k

Lustful Daydreams | 3k

Songs and Sagas of a Fate Determined | 4k

Becoming Hope of the Endless | 6k | IN PROGRESS

While You Were Sleeping | 4k

Braided Longing | 13k

A Dream Model | 30k

A Dream of Dragons | 32k

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day? (AKA The Sonnet-Off) | 7.5k

Dreams Make Living Worthwhile | 63k

Broken Glass | 12k

Dethroned | 24k

A Family Stands Tall | 10k

A Blundered Beginning | 12k

What's a Bit of Death Between Friends | 9k

Call of the Wild | 28k

Rewrite the Stars | 60k

Old Town Road (AKA The "Hob is a Horse Girl" Fic) | 12k | IN PROGRESS

Well, That's Curious | 39k

Colour Forecasting (Co-authored with @blueberrymffn) 289k out of 625k posted)

Will be updated as I post more fic!

[olivesour]

Flower Honey

Inspiration: 2. “Verses,” Tamino released June, 2019.

Pairing: Choi San/reader

Genre: Romance, slice of life

Word count: 469

Warnings: N/A

Author’s note: I am a chronic rewriter, so it’s possible you’ve read something similar before. I hope you enjoy!

There wasn't someone as lucky as you were.

He sits on a stacked pile of cardboard boxes, probably stuffed with your wardrobes. Beams of sunshine peak through the windows of your new apartment, evidence of the day's hard work. Other than the boxes, the furniture is sparse. The only exception is the mattress in the middle of your new living space.

You feel a few beads of sweat gather at the edge of your hairline, determinedly shuffling to the box fan near your partner. San fondly watches your awkward dance. He's humming an old song, which is nearly unnoticeable under the fan's noise.

The tips of his toes tap the floor in rhythm with his voice. San moves through each motion with heat possessed only by dancers. His power stirs warmth in your belly. Even in his most relaxed state, you are drawn to his side.

Tilting your head towards his mouth, it takes a few moments to remember what song he's singing. It's a summery tune, perfect for today, smiling when you know it was your recommendation.

When the title hits you, your body jolts upward, jumping to the box holding your radio and CDs. San startles out of his daydream because of the sudden movement, his body shaking with laughter.

After finding the desired album and hurriedly positioning the radio system, the musician's voice fills the apartment's space.

"Thank you," San mumbles from over your shoulder. "I couldn't remember the rest."

Your body sways back and forth in a childish imitation of a slow dance, raising your arms to beckon San closer.

"Would you dance with me?" A gentle smile plays on your lips, "please."

Standing straight, he brushes the palms of his hands against the rough fabric of his jeans before reaching out to gather you inside his arms, guiding bodies in tandem. A strong hand smooths your hair and then falls to meet the other around your waist. San sings alongside the song, a few words unfamiliar in his mouth.

He leans forward to sit his head on your shoulder, nuzzling cheek-to-cheek, pressing kisses to your skin. "I can't believe we get to spend every day with each other," he says.

The music playing softly behind the silence gives an air of peace missing from the previous days. Your skin goosebumps, loving catching you off guard. "It's my dream come true," laughing breathlessly. The instrumental solos sweep around you as San backs away, turning towards the mattress, grabbing onto his waistband to keep yourself from stumbling.

Falling onto the plush, he pulls you to lean against him, holding your head in his hand and stroking your cheek softly. The opposite hand moves along your spine, tracing your vertebrae with a gentle hand. You melt under his gestures, and your new apartment already feels like home.

[ramayantika]

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬: 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Apna apna sab choose karlo 👀)

Bharatanatyam

The girl in red and gold. Never steps out of the house without a bindi, loves the sun a little too much and gets the perfect golden hour photos. Will drag you out in the sun to prove that her hair is brown. Looks no less than a goddess in traditionals, rocks desi wear as well as western, always the best dressed in the room and sometimes the overdressed one. A walking saree encyclopedia, dreams to have a large wardrobe just for her sarees. Will also lend you some of her sarees and drapes them so well. If you are wearing a saree for a date, ask her for help. Reads a lot of detective books maybe, ranging from Sherlock Holmes to Feluda. Has learnt martial arts too, armed with wit, got the best comebacks and will fight for her friends. Highly intimidating when you meet her first until you get to witness the soft sunshine version of her. Photogenic, loves the camera, could also be a model. Her walk radiates power and confidence. Ambitious and full of ideas, commands attention easily with a snap of ger fingers. Heads turn at her when she enters the room, an eloquent speaker because she is well read. Tries to spread happiness in her own ways, knows everyone in her neighbourhood, is friends with everyone, right from the little kids to the oldies in the park, the Mother hen of her group. Loves puppies and will cry while watching cute puppy videos. Cooks delicious dishes and watch her lash out if she finds out that you skipped breakfast. A pure soul, too kind and generous for the world and does her best in spreading happiness around her.

'It's honestly a choice which we have to make. We can choose to see everything as cold and heartless around us or start seeing at the brighter side of things. Trust me, the latter is a better choice. Why would someone want to live such a miserable life laced with bitterness and resent. I know I cannot singlehandedly make everything right in the world, but I can surely make a difference in at least a single person's life? Why focus on things at the greater scale when we can make changes that should starts from us?"

Odissi

The shy girl next door, writes poetry in her rough notebook, hopeless romantic and a daydreamer. For her, outing means a visit to the temple. Ardent admirer of all types of art, stares at temple sculptures and statues, and is also a history lover. Pink lip gloss, jasmine flowers and a doe-eyed beauty. Makes flower jewellery and will gift you many of her own works if you are her friend. Wears light coloured clothes and minimal accessories, light feminine, crushes over book characters and will make you see the best traits in yourself but forgets to look at the good in herself. Recites romantic poetry in front of the mirror and pretends to be someone's muse, replaces herself with the characters in period dramas Has gorgeous hair but will always keep them in a messy bun, but god when she lets her hair down, she looks like an angel. Her social life includes playing with children and narrating them stories and fairytales.

'His lips gently follow the trail of the small dots of sandalwood paste on her back. It forms a serpentine path on her skin and ends on the curve of her waist where his lips gently caress her soft skin, delighted at the treasure gifted by the perfumed trail.'

"You haven't even held hands with a boy and yet you can come up with this? How?"

"Oh, it's nothing. You have to see my writing journal and you will definitely believe that I am well versed in the arts of love."

"Arts of love? Who uses that?"

"Me. Now come, let's watch Jodha Akbar."

"Again?!"

Kathak

Kurtis and Anarkalis. Has long hair that is half of the time braided. Might also wear a parandi at events. Shayari aur ghazalein, listens to old Bollywood songs late at night under the moon on the terrace. Star gazing, late night deep conversations, vintage clothing, would write you hand written love letters. Knows hindustani music, sings late at night and sometimes in the early hours of dawn. Aankhon mein gehra kajal jise dekh na jane kitne uske aashiq bann gaye, deep eyes that will stare into your soul, loves to wear red lipstick and will wear silver jewellery with every outfit. To win her heart? Take her jhumke shopping. She is the desi pinterest aesthetic. Bases her personality on Sahibjaan from Pakeezah, Anarkali from Mughal-E-Azam, Umrao Jaan and Chandramukhi from Devdas. Has desi aesthetic moodboards on Pinterest and lives like it too minus the havelis and lots of expensive jewellery. If you are a poet, she will end up proposing you.

'जो मेरा नाम अपनी शायरी में अमर कर दे

मरूंगी तो केवल उस शायर के नाम'

"Umrao jaan 2.0 apni pariksha ki taiyari kare aapke non existent premi kavi ya shayar marks nahi dilayenge"

"Tauba tauba sara mood kharab kar diya"

Kuchipudi

Was made to learn dance and music as a child, knows how to play the veena or the sitar well, cannot sing but will play the instrument for you if you ask. Gold jewellery? No. Silver jewellery? No. Pearls? Absolutely! An all rounder, academically brilliant as well as in extra-curriculars, perfectionist and will breakdown at the slightest inconvenience. Loves to go on long walks, sunset photography, has a collection of journals and hauls stationary items. Collects fallen flowers and keeps them inside her books. soft smiles, long artistic fingers that always have ink spots, a small but a close friend group, wishes on flowers, so quiet that you might not her speak at times, notices the minute things about her friends and the people she meets. Looks too long into the mirror and loses herself, has too many questions but will never ask. Has pretty crazy dreams that could become book plots.

"Do you ever stare at your eyes in the mirror for a very long time? Do you feel your reflection change? Those eyes that look back at you... they have so much to say, they carry so many secrets inside them even though at a superficial level, it might seem that your reflection and you are the same, but it's not. When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel it's not me. I am not her nor am I anyone else. I feel I am a part of the galaxies, of stars and planets and of souls -- that I have existed here a long time ago and I have been reborn again for unknown reasons, reasons that somewhere my would would know. Do you not feel the same?"

Kathakali

Athletic, into sports, highly dramatic, can and will recite film dialogues at every situation, has a larger than life attitude, grand gestures and celebrations for her favourite people as well as for herself, always brimming with energy even at 3am, colourful flashy clothes that make her stand distinct from everyone, make-up game on point, a HUGE foodie, takes you to the best eateries and restaurants, indulges in pranks and all sorts of harmless mischief that makes her endearing, expresses everything just with her eyes. You can't say no to her because she will conjure such a facial expression that it would be difficult to say no which is why she gets away with mischief. Will debate about literature and philosophy, has a lot of knowledge about historical texts and scriptures, can easily make you laugh by imitating characters from stories and tales. Will also spam you with her thoughts and opinions on text and if you are in her close friend circle, keep your phone on because she will immerse herself about the latest book she read. Races with kids from her colony and lets them win, gully cricket vali didi, street smart, procrastinates assignments until the deadline is knocking at the door. Knows the secret spots in the city as well as their stories, has the best horror stories to narrate at a campfire.

"I know it's 2am, but is it okay if-"

"Even if I say no, you will tell me, but I am interested. Speak."

"What if all the characters in our epics were us, I mean like us normal human beings who achieved greatness and such divine status because of their work and somehow maybe that was the truth, but with time, we began thinking that we are not capable of becoming like them so we decided that we would take the credit of their hard work and replace it with magical powers and worship them, but not try and become like them? And somehow so many ideal kings, queen, warriors and artists when then look at us from heaven want us to achieve the same level of greatness like them? But they are sad that we think so less of ourselves? I am not denying God's presence though, don't get me wrong on that. I am talking about all the great people from stories that have been passed down to us. I do appreciate the creativity and imagination of the writers and poets involved, but what if we are actually failing to look more deeper into it. What if they want us to go beyond the veil of imagination in those stories and find ourselves in them?"

Manipuri

One word: Ethereal. Doesn't look like she belongs to this world. You saw her first at a waterfall, dressed in white and red shades, mostly prefers pastel shades, makes beautiful flower bouquets, has got a very melodious voice and when she sings by the waterfall with the swans sitting beside her, she appears like a water nymph. Playful eyes, whispers words, will wink and smile at you before disappearing into a run. She walks as if she is floating, got the lightest feet, soft dewy skin, nature's daughter. Sings before the Gods in temples, always has a peacock feather with her, makes one wonder if she is a human or someone divine, wants to live in a cottage overlooking lush green hills.

"Ironic isn't it that beauty, riches, pride, nothing shall exist in the end because we shall go back to mother nature, Prakriti? I shall be ash, a small heap of ash in the future and my stories, my experiences, the beauty which people love to talk about, nothing will exist. Even when humans leave a piece of land, they think it shall be dead and decayed, but they have forgotten Prakriti's nature. She is nourishing and a healer. She shall be the only one remaining."

Mohiniyattam

Loves to sit by a riverbank, serenity, looks at you as if she knows everything about you even about the words you shall speak next, mysterious vibe, doesn't trust anyone easily, lotuses are her favourite. Who is the girl standing waist deep in the river looking at the moon? Loves to wear alta on her hands and feet, wears anklets, longing side glances, perfectly arched eyebrows, dances in the rain, photographs everything, a natural charmer, goes to museums and coffee. Date ideas? Boat rides for evenings. A very private person, doesn't reveal much about herself, contemplates about Life and the Universe, space geek, stars are her friends.

When I look at you, at your great depths, I marvel at the power you have subdued while flowing through the land of Man. Born from the great peaks of mountain ranges, like a young girl who is pulsating with energy, you flow down your father's abode. Were you aware of your strength then? You cut through rocks, found your way through dense forests, and finally emerged into our land. We took you granted, knowing you shall forever exist for us, that you shall always nurture our bodies, our minds and our souls, until we witnessed your dance of death.

I wondered how Lasya, the feminine style of dance, also known as Goddess Parvati's style of dancing could be destructive? You swirled to great heights. With each turn, your colour darkened, absorbing the green from trees, the white from clouds, yellow from the sun, blue from the dawn and purple from sunsets. In the end your colour changed to brown and grey as you engulfed everything we held dear. You ultimately showed your hidden strength that you possesses in the days of girlhood until you heard us wail and weep. Motherhood came back to you, and with time, you began nursing us once again. The city repaired itself, we began learning about the secrets of life and death on your banks and children played with your gentle waters. And then you longed for love, so you advanced towards the sea, merging with its grand form. Once, I used to see it as a way of losing your entire identity, but now I see it as being one. You nourish man in the city and then with your dear love, the mighty sea, you nourish the life that resides inside water. I would like to be something like that.

"Is that why you spend so much time at the river?"

"Yes."

Sattriya

Plays the flute, the most non violent human, will never get angry, calm voice that might lead you to deep sleep. Nobody has seen her even glare at someone. Gold jewellery, squints at the sun, sings devotional songs for Krishna, cannot eat spicy food, lives in the hills, will definitely win if you race against her in the hills, knows quiet spots to appreciate the valleys. Has a great deal of knowledge about herbal medicines, one touch and you will feel that the pain is gone. Has Diy skin care methods ready, gives the best oil massage, cold hands in winter, looks adorable when covered in a shawl, red cheeks that appear like natural blush, makes the best tea.

"Close your eyes, open your ears and your mind too. You might begin to understand the language of the hills. They will send you messages of rain clouds, soft kisses of wintery breeze, fragrance of spring and gently warmth of the sun. Sometimes, if you look closely enough, you might get to know who you are in this world in front of them."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ‧͙⁺ ˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙◌

I DID IT :D

Even though it's based on dance, but everyone isn't into dance, so i did try my best to make it inclusive and ofc i had to write these paragraphs because I felt more creative lol (just to sum up the vibes maybe that's why) It was a bit tricky to make for Sattriya and Manipuri. I looked up some articles and then some Assam and Manipur tourism videos and also some of theri dance videos too for this. Now I mentioned some of rhe traits and stuff based on the dancing history and the repertoire plus also from the place where it belongs too

Tell me your favorite one and which one you relate to the most.

Shoutout to @remen-nyoodless for the hindi lines

Tagging: @yehsahihai @swayamev @sanskari-kanya @navaratna @daddojanam @pulihora @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @aapki-pyaari-sakhi @kuhuchan @arachneofthoughts @vedajananixx @pothosinpots @eugenephosgene @reallythoughtfulwizard @ma-douce-souffrance

[sujantim]

Dark Side of the Moon- Pink Floyd

Who hasn't even heard the name Pink Floyd? Every Gen X to Gen Z knows Pink Floyd. By any chance, if you don't know, which means you haven't listened to any of their songs, and if you dislike them, there is something wrong with you.

Pink Floyd is an English rock band formed in London in 1965. Gaining an early following as one of the first British psychedelic groups, they were distinguished by their extended compositions, sonic experiments, philosophical lyrics, and live shows. They became a leading band in the progressive rock genre, cited by some as the greatest progressive rock band of all time. Pink Floyd was founded in 1965 by Syd Barrett (guitar, lead vocals), Nick Mason (drums), Roger Waters (bass guitar, vocals), and Richard Wright (keyboards, vocals). 

Today, we are discussing them because 50 years ago, they dropped a nuclear bomb on the music industry with the album Dark Side of the Moon on March 1st, 1973.  They launched a composition of sounds of the instrument, an electric guitar solo with different elements which can’t be decoded easily, known as A timeless album, as if recorded just yesterday, impossible for others to find a comparison, too advanced in years for its time, it remains an absolute masterpiece, more than a record, a cult object! New electronic sound effects and recording techniques extended instrumental solos and improvisation.

The album " Dark Side of the Moon" begins with the track Speak to Me, which only lasts for about a minute and doesn't contain any lyrics with a bit of background, producing faint sounds of a heartbeat, quiet conversations, and cash registers slowly. Fade out into another song, Breathe in the Air, begins with the overlay of different instrument tracks. Verse 1: don't be afraid to care; look around and choose your own ground. For long you live and high you fly and smiles you will give and tears you'll cry and all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be. Remains as my favorite lines,

On the Run is another masterpiece that considers different sounds, including electric sounds, but not the lyrics. Pink Floyd is probably the band that can play with the instruments and elements without having lyrics, and still, the track struck in my head and is still your favorite. It was the first band to invent music and given psychedelic music. Music can be subjective from one to one, but these psychedelic rock bands could be a regular drug to balance someone's study or work-life balance.

The other song from the Album, Time, starts with a tickling sound and tense music. The verse;

“Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain

And you are young, and life is long, and there is time to kill today

And then one day you find ten years have got behind you

No one told you when to run; you missed the starting gun."

This Could be the best thing someone can tell about the time. I would say this song is their best work,  with perfect lyrics and the composition of the musical elements. This sound could say hundreds of words at the same time. This song remains a reminder of time. The track ends slowly and beautifully, taking us to The Great Gig In The Sky. This track leaves with phenomenal worldless vocals, creating the feeling that this will end even though we are halfway through the album.

The album's second part begins with the Money, which starts with the same kind of sound as Speak with Me, cash counting, and coins. The song goes with a beautiful baseline, and the sound of an electric guitar and saxophone played goes faster and faster with the instrument and sudden slow composition ;

Money

Getaway

You get a good job with more pay, and you're okay

Money

It's a gas

Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash

New car, caviar, four-star, daydream

Think I'll buy myself a football team

The song slowly fades out with a background conversation and begins to fade in with the same background sound with another track. The unique thing about this album is that all the songs are related to each other. Us and Them begin with the pleasant sound with classic jazz sound, organs, pianos, and percussion. The song starts with

Us, and them

And after all, we're only ordinary men.

Me, and you.

God only knows it's noz what we would choose to do.

The song addresses the mindless essence of war and the issue of being chained by consumerism and materialism. The track ends  as we transition into our next, “Any Colour You Like.” It is an electronic-filled song with distorted guitars to compliment the psychedelic feel it produces. With no vocals, it quickly ends, where “Brain Damage” quickly begins. The lyrics were inspired by the mental instability of one of the form band members. Brain Damage and Eclipse are often played as a single track. The song ends with the line.

And everything under the sun is in tune

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

This track feels as if it were an amalgamation of all the songs previously heard. It contains repeated melodies and vocals as the moon ‘eclipses,’ marking the album’s end with the same faint heartbeat we heard in the first track, “Speak to Me.” 

Overally, Dark Side of the Moon is the greatest album ever. It feels like all the gods came together to to create this masterpiece. It remains timeless, being a fantastic listen every time, and it still feels damn this album existed 50 years ago, and people are still listening; it will continue to distinguish itself in a never-ending cycle like a moon. The Story behind Dark side of the Moon;

[genevievemd]

James Dean Daydream

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 1384 Rating: G Category: Fluff, Ethan POV Trope(s): and one of them dabbles in music

Summary: The day Ethan Ramsey realizes he’s in love with a swiftie. 

Warnings: none

A/N: This is really just pointless fluff that I’ve wanted to do this idea for a while lol And I also just love showing these cute little everyday moments between them. Enjoy the fluff, peanuts!  And yes, I did in fact make the cover for this look similar to the 1989 album cover. I am who I am lmao 

November 13, 2020

No matter how many years Ethan Ramsey has spent in medicine, working diligently in one of the country’s most prestigious hospitals, it never ceased to amaze him hw absolutely idiotic the world became on Friday the 13th.  He didn’t even subscribe to the superstition, and yet, without fail, the date would come around and the emergency room descended into madness. 

It was as if anyone with only half a brain cell watched it die and they gave into any and every intrusive thought.

And unfortunately for him, this was the second occurrence this year. Ethan didn’t even think anything could top the chaos of March 13th. The hospital had been running on empty, patients and residents, even doctors, were beginning to transfer to different hospitals. It was pure madness. He had foolishly believed that would be the worst he’d seen or would ever see. 

Until today.

There had been no less than five major traffic accidents, the computer system was down and every staff member was locked out for close to two hours, Leland kept interrupting the diagnostics team whenever they finally had a moment to convene, and to top it all off, Ethan’s favorite resident had the day off. 

Although it was a much needed one and it was at his behest. Genevieve had worked almost 72 hours nonstop with only a few hours of rest here and there. So he’d sent her home that morning, completely forgetting the date. 

She’d texted him sporadically, offering to come back in, but Ethan refused. Gen needed to sleep and they could manage without her. So instead, he told her to utilize the quiet of his apartment and spend the day watching her favorite shows and catching up on sleep. 

He’d almost forgotten the offer, until he arrived home that evening and pushed the button for his floor on the elevator. 

A small part of him now regretted it. He was exhausted and all he wanted was a hot shower, dinner, and crawl into bed. Gen would most likely be her normal energetic self and eager to hear about all the “tea of the day”, as she would say. But, another part of him loved knowing he was coming home to her. 

His bubbly and sweet rookie. The sunshine to his midnight rain. 

A smile spreads across his tired face when he gets to his front door. Whatever song she was playing was loud enough to be heard quite clearly through the door. 

If he had to guess, it was probably Taylor Swift. 

He opens the door slowly, greeted with the sight of Genevieve in his Hopkins sweatshirt and a pair of leggings, hair in a messy ponytail as she dances and sings along to what is absolutely a Taylor Swift song. Using a metal whisk as her makeshift microphone. 

Unwilling to disrupt the show, he gently places his briefcase one the floor and closes the door. Leaning against it with his arms crossed. 

As the song progresses into the second verse, and she twirls back to the stove, he realizes she’s cooking. Ensuring that he came home to a homecooked meal after a long day. That knowledge melts his heart and almost forces him from his spot. But, he also doesn’t want to interrupt and miss the mini concert he’s getting. 

He loves her like this, so free and happy. Enjoying the simple things in life to their fullest extent. 

“He says ‘what you heard is true but I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you and I’ I said ‘I’ve been there too a few times’” She sings the lyric with an excessive amount of dramatics and flare. Jumping right back into what she calls dancing as the chorus begins again. 

At this point in their relationship, and friendship, Ethan is certain he’s heard every song ever made by Gen’s favorite artist. And while it may not be his cup of tea, he’ll never tire of seeing how excited and happy Gen gets when a song comes on. 

Like when she accompanied him to the grocery store earlier that week. A song had come on when they were perusing the vegetables and she squeaked with excitement. Humming along and mouthing the words to him. It was one of the cutest things she’s ever done and a moment he burned into is memory. 

Just like he’s doing with the one happening now. 

Unable to resist any longer, Ethan joins her. Taking her hips in his hands and spinning her around to face him. As predicted, she screams in shock then breaks into a brilliant and beautiful smile. Dropping the whisk and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Hi!” Gen beams, not at all embarrassed to be caught. Reaching to turn the volume of the music down. “Did you just get home?” 

“I did.” He smiles back at her, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. 

“I made dinner, I figured you could use a nice meal after the day you had.” 

“Thank you, that was very sweet of you.” 

“Always, babe.” She kisses him again, a little longer than before but no less sweet. Like she’s pouring her whole heart into the simple gesture. 

After another second, Gen pulls away. Moving back to the stove to turn off the burner. 

Deciding he’s not ready to fully let her go, Ethan follows. Pulling her back to his chest and kissing her cheek. 

“You know, you’re ruining my Spotify every time you use my Alexa.” 

“Ruining it, or adding some flavor to an otherwise boring list of top plays?” Gen laughs, the sound so pretty he can’t help but smile more. 

“I stand by what I said, Rookie.” He lets her go, stepping to the side to take off his coat and tie. Though he keeps his eyes on her, noting how she continues to subtly dance along to the new song coming through the speakers. 

“It’s your fault for picking me to be your girlfriend. You should have known; once a swiftie always a swiftie.” She laughs again, continuing to finish plating their dinner. 

“Swiftie?”

“It’s what you call a Taylor Swift fan.” Gen steps over to him, patting his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all the lingo. Especially if we plan on staying together forever. You’ll need to know.” 

“Right.” He nods, grabbing their plates and walking over to the dining table. “So the mentor would become the mentee?” 

“Absolutely.” She follows close behind with two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Do you want to shower first?” 

“I thought maybe we��d eat and then you’d join me in the shower.” He smirks at the blush that quickly rises to her cheeks, the way she bites her lip and look away for the briefest of seconds. 

“That actually sounds nice. I missed you today.” 

He takes the glasses and bottle from her hands, putting them down onto the table beside their meal. Taking her back into his arms a second later. 

“I missed you, too, G.” 

Whatever regret and dread he had before was now melted away. Along with almost every ounce of stress that had been heavy on his shoulders before walking in the door. And it was all because of her. 

Her dancing and singing, the happiness of being reunited with her after a long day. 

Ethan had purposely ignored her comment a few minutes prior, about being together for the rest of their lives. Not because he didn’t want that, but because it was still to early to be discussing those things. She still needed to finish her residency and decided on her future in medicine. 

But he hoped that they’d be together through it all, because the love he feels for her – regardless of the fact that they’ve yet to voice it – was unlike anything he’s felt before. It’s healing and fulfilling. Bringing with it the type of happiness that only exists in daydreams and fairytales. 

He didn’t care about their differences, he wanted to embrace them. Learn to love what she loves, like she’s doing with him. 

He wanted a future where he continues to come home to find her singing and dancing with a metal whisk in his kitchen to a Taylor Swift song. Knowing that it would continue to dissolve the stress and pressure of the outside world.

A/N: Little does he know, his future self intentionally added Taylor Swift songs to his Spotify playlist so he could listen to them when he goes back to the amazon lol 

thanks for reading, peanuts. 

[chaosandmarigolds]

Questionsss from the ask list you rebogged <3 answer whatever you wanna no pressure!!

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP.

a trope you’re really into right now?

where do you get your inspiration?

Share a fic you’re especially proud of.

🫡🫡

(Oh no..) “If this was the reality any deity thought befitted him then he supposed he could go against the work of god.”

TEEHEE RAAAAAH- ok ok so I haven’t posted it but I have a fic in the works where (it’s written in English) is Polish and only knows Polish and it’s HEAVILY based off my gfs and I relationship and how it started but language barrier, is that trope? Idk. Grumpy x sunshine is always a favorite.

I don’t know actually. I just yap cause I maladaptive daydream.

…literally all of the Pre-K verse, I get tickled when I realize I created a whole little AU.

🤍🤍

[josiebelladonna]

”the wandering jew”

this has been rolling around in my head for like… the last month, and all it took was ^that pic to coax it out 🫧

(takes place in the fever ‘verse)

“Hey, Alex, you want a beer?”

The words caught his attention before the photographer showed up to the bar before him, and he realized that he had been daydreaming this whole entire time. For a moment, he had had a brief lapse of memory, but one that seemed to last longer than a few seconds. It was sitting there at the bar, under the thick metallic skulls up on the shelf over the bar that made him think of the movie Alien, that brought him back to that encounter back there, in the one part of the building that no one really paid much attention to, and without any warning whatsoever. The mere sight of the interior, the way it all rose up into thick arches to make it seem as though they tucked themselves into the back part of some hideous alien like the way his feelings rose and welled up into thick arches as well...

It all happened so fast and yet it managed to etch itself into the side of his mind.

The euphoria. The intensity. The feeling of fire within him when he believed that it had died out some time prior to his twentieth birthday.

No longer a teen and now a young man, which meant the teenage dream had been laid to rest before he managed to bring it out in its entirety to the world at large. Where did the time go, he so often heard around him back home, and yet chances for him never really manifested themselves: he only had to focus on his playing as well as the band before him.

Such was the plight of the late bloomer, the boy who had the look but had his zipper all the way up to his collar, even as the lead guitarist.

He had his friends, and most of them female, but he could never gather the courage to really ask the one out on something nice. He never could gather the courage to ask any of them if they wanted to join them over there on the other side of the Pacific Rim for the next few weeks, and thus, he found himself alone most of the time. It was one of those nights on one of those long trips across the Pacific Ocean whereby the time seemed to slip sideways and he found himself a day ahead.

The culture was different. The language was different. The one thing that united him with the rest of Japan was the love of music as well as the sense of exploration. To walk the streets of Tokyo under the neon lights and find something that piqued his curiosity.

Oh, to find a loose leaf copy of Tropic of Cancer in one of the many bookstores around there in the center of town and tell Samantha all about it once they returned home. To find a copy of Tropic of Capricorn and read it to her aloud before they went to bed together.

He had no idea as to how to label his feelings for her, especially when she seemed so hung up on Cliff still, as well as her relationship with Joey. But there was no denying of the fact that whenever he looked on at her, he could feel something with her. Aside from his own unwillingness to even so much as walk on up to her, she always seemed so distant and preoccupied with something else at the moment. She had eyes for another man, anyway, and a huge piece of her heart remained six feet under. No way he could have more than a moment alone with her unless one of them cracked open a couple of brewskies and kept a back room open for each other so no one was looking in their direction.

The books would have to wait a while as he stepped out of the shop and into the cool afternoon and the bright sunshine over the crown of Tokyo. Though it wasn’t all that cold, he had wondered around the city with his hands tucked into jacket pockets and his long luxurious hair sprawled down all around his slender shoulders. The thin leather of his jacket proved to be more than enough for him as he walked up the block to the next crosswalk: somewhere in there was a view of Mount Fuji as well as the clusters of cherry trees near the edge of the city. He was told that the Giger Bar and the hotel next door were not too far from there.

The sleeves of the leather jacket were smooth with the slightest wrinkles near the elbows, and the black leather carried a gentle sheen to it courtesy of the soft neon lights of the city around him. The streets bustled with life, and he remembered that his band had pitched their tents not too far from that old red-light district as well. Not too far from the rows of adult bookstores and the brightly colored strip joints that seemed to blend in with the rest of the neighborhoods of downtown Tokyo. He gazed up to the wires stretched overhead to connect the buildings which stood across the street from each other, as if he stood at the mouth of a cave that presented him with his fate. The pearly white and bright red neon sign over his head showed off the kanji characters for all the world to see, followed by the word “Kabukichō.”

Off in the distance, past the bright neons along the sides of the street before him, the summit of Mount Fuji stood before him in all its cold power like the lines of block art, and he knew that he should have brought something with him for a snapshot back to the States. If only he could find a way to her, to confess to her of what resided within him.

“God, I wish she was here,” he muttered to himself, and he tucked a stray lock of black hair behind his ear.

Then again, the feelings seemed so far away, and he had no idea as to how to describe them, either. All he knew was something within him existed whenever he thought about her. And whenever he thought about her, there came about a deep itch inside him that he couldn’t seem to put his fingers upon.

Even with her feelings elsewhere, he still saw her as his friend, and even after the utter fiery path they took to reach the point of friendship as well. Samantha had her fingers clasped around the stems of the yellow tulips and the hat that Cliff gave her perched upon her head: it almost felt impure to break into her world with his black leather and the slender shock of silver on his head. He wasn’t anywhere the grim darkness that stood adjacent to his band and their hosted scene but he knew how they felt upon the thought of her. No lipstick, hairspray, or safety pins for him, but the shadows beckoned him, especially the ones cast by the neon lights in front of him.

A flash of wispy smoke, and the red lights dazzled before him. It felt as though he was entering the one venture of the house that was sealed off from him and his brother until they were eighteen, and he had crossed a threshold of sorts. He licked his lips and flexed his fingers inside of his coat pockets.

The ribbon of blacktop underneath his feet made him think of all those first shows, where he walked upon the stage with his guitar in hand and his black leather vest barely open to show off the plumes of dark hair on his chest. The initial feeling of nerves only to have it all subside away once the show got underway. The language barrier proved to be another ribbon for him, one that he hoped he could cut through once he had settled himself in for the time being. All the time he could ever ask for right then, and he let the zipper of his leather jacket slide down a bit. His long black curls cascaded around the crests of his shoulders like water, and the cool Japanese air caressed his skin. The smell of freshly poured bath water and burning incense followed him like the silky, forbidden feelings that lingered within him.

He stopped before the smoked glass entrance of the next place along the edge of the sidewalk. The hot pink kanji lettering struck him, while the translations remained right under the edge of the glass window. An alien boy looking on at an alien language scrawled across the glass, that is until he found something that he recognized.

“Soapland…” he muttered aloud. He looked up to the receded doorway and decided to explore things a bit. When he opened the door, the delicate aroma of matcha with the fresh soaps greeted him, as if he was meeting someone who had just climbed out of the shower. It was one of those places that made him think of burlesque but the sight of the bathtubs down in the floor made him think otherwise. The clean pink tiles under the thick soles of his shoes had been freshly scrubbed earlier that morning, and he held still out of slight concern over slipping across it all.

She sauntered on up to him with her hands tucked behind her back and a head of short black hair lined with bright red highlights around the bottom to where it resembled a tortoise shell. Her pale skin had been kissed with the caress of the sun and the summit of Mount Fuji, and her dark eyes drank him down like the back of the sunrise. She wore some little red scrubs lined with even richer red lace: her fingerless leather gloves made him think of something that he wasn’t all too familiar with.

She said something to him which beckoned a furrowing of his eyebrows to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m American,” he told her as his face grew warm with embarrassment.

She reached up and nudged his hair off his shoulder.

“So… very—kawaii.”

“Kawaii?” he echoed her, all while the corner of his mouth curled up to form a little smirk for her. She reached up and pushed a stray black ringlet over his ear, and then she fanned herself with that hand.

“Sekushī,” she remarked, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“I don’t know much Japanese but I think I can figure out what that means,” he quipped to her, and he flashed her a wink. She giggled again, and that time, she brought a hand to her mouth. With her other hand, she caressed the top of his sleeve with nothing more than her exposed fingertips.

“Leather,” he whispered to her, to which she giggled at him again. “It’s really… sekushī when in the right context.” She showed him her gloves, to which he nodded at her.

“Nice dark red leather to go with my black,” he remarked. She clapped her hands right then, and the blinds drew over the windows behind him. She directed him to the one ground-level tub right behind them, the one with the rich royal blue floor and the still waters within.

“I wash?” she offered him with a gesture over to the pool, and he wondered as to what this place was, especially with the blinds pulled over the windows.

“Oh, yes, I would love to be scrubbed clean,” he told her in a low voice. “I’m a dirty American boy, after all.” He clasped onto the lapels of his jacket, and he tugged it off of him. She took the coat and draped it over the back of a chair closest to them. It was rather odd undressing in front of a girl, especially a girl whom he had just met and especially since he had never really done it before, either. He shivered as he kicked off his shoes and then dropped his pants down around his ankles and feet, and more so when he stripped off his shirt: it somewhat baffled him given it wasn’t very cold in that room, but he still could not ignore the feelings within his body.

“Short—too—” she advised him.

“You want me to take off my underwear, too?” he asked her with a sly grin on his face. He stuck his thumbs into the 

One foot into the water before him, followed by the next one. He followed the steps down to the very bottom of the short pool filled with warm, aromatic water.

“The water is absolutely perfect,” he told her, and stray strands of his long black curls drifted off from his shoulders onto the surface of the water before him to where he resembled a merman who had emerged from under the water. Before he could even so much as lean forward to settle into the one nook of the pool big enough for his ass, she dipped her hands into the water on either side of him and rubbed it all over his shoulders. The water trickled down over his collar bones and bare nipples with the kiss of life and death. The spicy smell of her perfume was utterly intoxicating, and for a brief moment, he had forgotten all about Samantha.

When her fingers spread over his collar bones, and more water thus trickled down the front of his chest which in turn made him lean back against the wall of the pool, he parted his lips and let out a low whistle.

“Feels good?” she asked him as she picked out a sponge from the right side of the pool right next to him.

“It does,” he replied. “Feels really good on my back, especially.” He gestured to the crest of his shoulder as she gently scrubbed down his smooth skin with some soap that smelled of dried tea leaves with one hand: with her other hand, she dropped something bright green into the water before him for some suds in the thick of the warm water.

“Ooh, what is that?” he asked her as he moved his hands about in the water to help with the suds. “It smells divine, like green tea.”

“Shōga,” she replied. “Uh… ginger.”

“Oh, ginger! That fused with green tea. It smells absolutely delicious.”

She pressed the bar of soap onto the canvas part of the sponge and rubbed it on the crest of his shoulder. She leaned him forward and moved the sponge in circles around his back.

“Oh, my god, that feels so good,” he confessed to her, and he brought his face closer to the increasing pile of suds before him. His hair dangled forward into the warm waters and the soap suds, and yet he was more than willing to be in that water forever. Such light aromas in the tea bath bomb as well as the woody feeling of the soap in the sponge, and he didn’t want to leave right then. Indeed, there was a part of him that wanted to sink down into the waters around him with his eyes closed to relish in everything. She moved his head closer to her so she could wash his chest and his neck: he sank further down the inside of the wall towards the base of the pool so he could somewhat submerge himself in there. He closed his eyes and let the water surround his head, and then he rose up from under the surface so she could give him a good washing of his neck and shoulders.

“Utsukushī kubi,” she whispered to him, and her voice almost glided over his skin like the kiss of a breeze. She picked up some more water with the sponge and she rubbed it over his chest. She then brought it under the water’s surface to the top of his belly, which in turn tickled a bit.

“Ooh, yeah—that’s the spot right there,” he said with a smirk and a chuckle. “So good, so good.”

He could feel her body moving in closer to his back: her warm soft breasts pressed against his shoulder blades and the top of his spine. He licked his lips at the feeling of the water down the middle of his back and all around his chest and his upper arms. His hair clung onto his chest and his collar bones; he never knew that being drenched and washed clean could be so arousing but he could feel something between his thighs. Something that made him twitch ever so slightly, and he hoped that she would reach down into the water for a swipe.

She kissed him on the side of the neck, and before he could do anything else, she kissed him on the rim of his ear as well. He shivered and let out a low whistle from the feeling of her lips. Her hand found its way under the water’s surface once again, down onto his belly.

“Lower—” he begged her in a broken voice. “Go lower—please—”

She reached down below the surface of the water, still with the sponge in hand, until she lost her balance and tumbled forth into the water before him, head first. With the soap suds in the way, as far as he knew, she had taken a tumble and banged her head on the rim of the pool. He held back so she could return to the surface before him: she gasped for air as she clasped onto his shoulders. Meanwhile, the sponge floated upon the water next to them, still lightly covered in a few little soap suds.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” He nudged her hair out from her eyes so he could look into her own.

But she laughed instead, and she pressed her lips onto his own as the water streamed down her face and onto her shoulders. He knew that she had hit her head but he was too enthralled by the sight of her before him, this little woman who barely spoke a word of English and the way that she touched him with the water all around them as their makeshift bed. She pointed down to the water’s surface and pinched her nose with her other hand.

“Want me to go under?” he asked her, to which she nodded. He took in a big breath of air before he held it, and then he bowed under the water’s surface. He kept his eyes closed as she did the same, and she pressed her hand onto his face and the side of his neck. Despite the soap embedded in the water around them, he could feel and taste her on his lips.

Her fingers trickled down his body to the space between his legs, right to the full length of his dick which firmed up from the feeling. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft and she gave him a hearty tug. He strove not to gasp lest he lose his breath under the soapy water’s surface, but she tugged on him again and that time, he jerked his head up towards the surface for some air. She tugged on him again, and that time she slipped the tip of her finger into that small hole of his head. It tickled him so much that he burst into a fit of hearty laughter.

He steadied himself against the edge of the pool so she could better grope him with both hands. He gasped and yelped out from the delicate feeling of her fingers on his shaft and right inside of the head. He held onto the edge of the pool with both hands and breathed harder with the rich feeling of euphoria within him. He let his tongue hang out from his mouth like a dog, the dirty dog he was and was born to be.

The warm water and the soft-smelling soap only added to the feeling: if anything, it just made the feeling within him well up even more. He slid down the wall of the pool right as she surfaced from under the water with his dick in both hands: his body lay flat before her, all for her. With one hand, she reached forward and raked her fingers down his chest and his belly. He gasped, and his head nearly sank under the water again: he caught himself and coughed and chuckled from the feeling.

She did it again, and that time, a small translucent bead of precum emerged from the head.

She then ran her fingertips over the top of his thigh, and she lowered her head towards his hips. The way she lingered over him made him think of a mermaid, a girl of the sea taking him under for her own pleasure.

He closed his eyes and he let her put her mouth around his head, followed by his shaft.

Her pleasure with his own, just so neither of them were alone for the time being.

“Alex!”

To hear Chuck's voice right then shattered the glass of his memory, and he opened his eyes and shook his head about.

“Hm? What?” He raised his dark eyebrows at him, to which Eric brought a hand to his mouth and giggled like a schoolgirl or rather, like the woman in the bathhouse. Bashful, Alex bowed his head a bit and shifted his weight in the chair.

“I asked if you wanted a beer or not,” Chuck repeated, and that time with a bit of laughter as well.

“I do,” he said with a clearing of his throat. Eric’s lips quivered as he tried to keep the laughter down but it was useless, however. He and Chuck erupted into a rouse of hearty laughter.

“It's not that funny!” Alex insisted.

[dustedmagazine]

Ducks Ltd. — Harm’s Way (Carpark)

Ba-da-dum. Ducks Ltd.’s second album kicks off in the kind of staggered power chord that has always conjured angsty bravado, echoing the Who, Guided by Voices, the Bats, and Teenage Fanclub. Like a hundred bands before them, the Toronto duo seeks equilibrium between sting and solace, hook and racket. The giddy melodies of “Hollowed Out” billow from tight, angular brackets of guitar, a rush, an assault and a daydream all at once. It’s Power Pop 101, an amalgam of British Invasion, American 1990s lo-fi and NZ fuzz, but Ducks Ltd. are damned good at it.

This is Tom McGreevey and Evan Lewis’ second full-length as Ducks Ltd. and a big bright brash step up from 2021’s Modern Fiction. Our own Andrew Forell observed that “Although you’ll hear the influences — primarily English and Antipodean — Ducks Ltd. manage to force their own niche in a lineage of Flying Nun, Fortuna Pop!, Postcard, Sarah and Slumberland,” and that still holds. However, Harm’s Way is sharper and more exhilarating than its predecessor; it’s the same aesthetic but more clearly, exuberantly realized.

Ducks Ltd have honed their sound in a relentless round of post-COVID touring. They wrote parts of Harm’s Way while on the road with Archers of Loaf, and perhaps you can hear the up- and downsize of itinerant life in the title track. It crackles with the jangling excitement of playing to live audiences—the best hour of any day for a budding rock band—but also vibrates with a sadder, lonelier vibe. You can hear euphoria in the careening instrumental parts but doubt and listless dissatisfaction in the verse. McGreevey sings the chorus in a glorious swirl of uplift, but the words are about danger, vulnerability and stunted opportunity. The best pop songs have always been happy and sad simultaneously, and this set has that lovely rainy-sunshine ambiguity.

Ducks Ltd. make a music that was once the voice of youth and now primarily appeals to aging record collectors. But even though power pop jangle has become a niche category, there’s no denying its giddy pleasures. If you like tuneful rock with a little bit of nervous edge, here’s a good one.

Jennifer Kelly

[takiki16]

hiii beloved would u like to post 5 songs u actually listen to and then ask 10 followers to do the same <3

Carefully curated for public consumption😎😎😎 Do not take these as any kind of MUST LISTEN recs or representative sample of my taste, just 5 songs that came up on my frequently played that I thought were interesting in the moment.

I do not have the brains to name 10 followers but anyone who wants to do this can do it 👍

Slow Dancing by Aly & AJ - my wake up song, because when I hate the entire world and it's cold and miserable and I don't want to get out from under the duvet and go to work, this song is really soft and easy and doesn't require brainpower to keep me company.

Skeletons by the Brothers Osborne - intro song for the serial killers' convention in Netflix Sandman, and the first verse stuck in my head

Prologue from Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 - A really fun musical!!! A really clever and catchy song!!! It's the very first one in the musical, if anyone wants to give it a shot!

Sunshine by Lance & Linton, NC Carson - it has been a lot of bubblegum pop rock for me lately bc it motivates me to move and do housework, and this song came up in the middle of the giant atmospheric river that drowned NorCal. Something about coming home in the pouring dark singing "sunshine, you're my sunshine, in the darkest of hours you're smiling!"

Downed and Drowned by The Longest Johns - their comedic stuff seems to get shared more, but I think this is one of my favorites by the Longest Johns bc of its ghostly vibes and also bc I can set Age of Sail blorbo daydreams to it so well.

If you are looking for a playlist to relax or fall asleep to, highly recommend THIS one btw.

[monkee-mobile]

oh damn, im gonna be annoying and answer them all right now because i’m procrastinating important work that will help decide my future. okay, here goes…

1. Daydream Believer.

My mom used to sing it to me when I was a baby (as well as John Lennon’s ‘woman’ and ‘beautiful boy’ and ‘babe’ by Styx), and since my middle name’s Jeanne (newly changed spelling), she’d sing it as ‘cheer up *deadname* Jeanne’, which was sweet until I transed my gender into a million pieces at 13.

2. Damnit… Probably Sweet Young Thing or Magnolia Simms, maybe What Am I Doin Hangin ‘Round, but I’m a very big Look Out (Here comes tomorrow) fan as well, and I cannot just not include Tapioca Tundra, Words, Nine Times Blue and Goin’ down, and fucking clarksville, and listen to the band (33 1/3 version) … oh shit.

3. Favorite is tricky since I have a copy of the first album from the 60s that i’ve had for a long time and i have a soft spot for birds bees and the monkees, so both of those are favorites among my personal collection, but my most listened to album is probably Pisces Aquarius Capricorn and Jones LTD. It’s just fun.

4. I’m gonna throw the first album on this one, i’m sorry my love, i’ve just listened to all of the songs a million times.

5. I don’t know, I think the missing links covers are pretty groovy🌼 I also, again, have a soft spot for birds bees and the monkees because i’ve stared over every inch of that thing a billion times.

6. More of the Monkees with their little JC Penny outfits. Sorry boys, I just think the angle is weird and poor lil Micky had his straight hair.

7. Michael is my favorite. Okay yeah, I think he’s very beautiful and I upset myself daily because i do not look like michael fucking nesmith, but he was always my favorite on the show as a kid. I saw autism in that boy. I tended to grab onto the more thoughtful or intellectual types. I just think he’s very neat. Also, for mike-real, his music is so wonderful. It’s all i ever want like ever, i don’t know why. All of the monkees songs that I got initially impressed by I went through later on and they were all either Mike or neil diamond songs (and neil diamond is another favorite of mine, especially when i was a kid) Please watch the crusin’ video from elephant parts if you’ve never seen it, that damn thing changed my life in seventh grade. I don’t know, as a kid i just think i assumed i’d go through puberty to become Peter Brady and then slowly transition into Michael Nesmith and that’d be my life. He’s just important to me.

8. I can’t not say First National Band, but I’m also a huge fan of Peter Tork’s silly little 1994 album Stranger Things Have Happened. I know the whole thing back to front. My mother crushed me by saying Peter was “an acquired taste” after I made her listen to the entire thing in the car once (strategically singing over Milkshake because I love that goddamn song, but it’s my mother, we don’t need dick chomping right now). She didn’t even appreciate MGB-GT! my little red MG!! my mgbgt, mgb, bgt…

9. Randy Scouse Git, a horny urban jerk.

10. 🎶 Reasoned verse, some prose or rhyme, lose themselves in other times, and waiting hopes cast silent spells that speak in clouded clues. It cannot be a part of me for now it's part of you … sunshine, ragtime, blowing in the breeze, midnight, looks right standing more at ease. Silhouettes and figures stay close to what he had to say, and one more time the faded dream is saddened by the news. It cannot be a part of me for now it's part of you. 🎶 So damn beautiful.

11. Lemme grab it…

been all of my screensavers on everything for way too long (and a version on my ipad where it says ‘weezer’ in the corner)

12. Probably Davy’s Goldilocks “fantasy” song in 33 1/3 where he’s in the little sailor/schoolboy outfit with all the dolls. I took a video of it as well as peter’s I Privy and Naked Persimmon years ago and used to listen to them in the car, but that’s the weirder of those ones, but i’ve always really liked it.

13. I don’t really have a single song but the albums i tend put on before bed are birds bees and the monkees (since i was little little) and Pisces Aquarius Capricorn and Jones LTD.

14. Goin’ down or For Pete’s Sake (cause I used to jump around to it when the credits rolled at the end of an episode. such a stimulating frickin show for a little kid)

15. PAPA GENE’S BLUES (or Crusin’, but that’s a Mike solo thing so it doesn’t count)

16. I’m not your steppin stone because I can do the Micky glitter act he did on the Don Kirshner’s Rock Show with Boyce & Hart in the 70s and get all crazy. Just need myself a Davy to bite on the neck… also, other people know that song, so i wouldn’t feel all crazy and obscure, and it’s fun.

17. Here me out, I love Clarksville, it’s was a favorite of mine for so long, but it just got so popular and overplayed. it’s always considered like the epitome of classic, and I’m over here with Zilch like “but—but—“

18. The Monkees, The Birds, the Bees and the Monkees, Pisces A.C& Jones ltd, a buncha 45s and a LOT of Nez stuff. I also have some Monkees and FNB CDs.

19. Oop—there we are! Okay, I have a greatest hits album, an odd Karaoke monkees thing but it has my favorite monkees photo on the cover so it’s great, like ten mix things recorded for me by my grandpa, and I also have a bunch of FNB albums, but those probably don’t count…

20. Gonna say again the dancing around to Pete’s Sake as a kid after an episode of the show. Usually either Happy Days, I love lucy, lassie, brady bunch, or gilligan’s island would come on after, because we had this classic tv kind of station when we could afford cable, and then i’d just watch it on the box set we bought, but i always liked when it was on the regular tv station.

21. Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)!!!!

22. Words or Goin’ Down. He has an incredible goddamn voice. He worked on it too and it got even better later on! His vocals in the 70s are sexy. A most underrated rock voice.

23. Oh damn… I have to go with What am I doin Hangin round, there’s just a kind of rawness to his vocals that i fucking dig. Magnolia Simms, Sweet Young Thing, kind of girl I could love, tapioca tundra… I also really love Love is Only Sleeping and it having to make an almost Mike-song continuity referencing the girl being “sweet” and “young” because we can’t be starting any rumors now can we? He had such range stylistically.

24. Auntie Grizelda, obviously.

25. Fairy Tale. Can never get over it, not ever.

26. Oh lord, Monkee Chow Mein. I’m not digging the racism loves. Honorable mention goes to the g*yspy episode, but I think that one’s better structured overall than Chow Mein.

27. In the episode with Davy’s uncle when they take over the goddamn airport so Davy can’t leave for England. That’s your first plan boys? Go get your boy back Michael!

28. Every instance of “buddalum” followed by droning “here we comeeee”

29. “Don’t do that!” I’ve been saying it in a deeply texan accent for years. Honorable mention, Mike panicking when people move out of his direct line of sight. You okay babe??

30. See I feel like this doesn’t really count as a “guest appearance” for the time, but Ruth Buzzi in coffin too frequent.

The Monkees Asks

1: First Monkees song you heard?

2: Favourite Monkees song?

3: Favourite Monkees album?

4: Least favourite Monkees album?

5: Favourite Monkees album cover?

6: Least favourite Monkees album cover?

7: Favourite Monkee? Why?

8: Favourite solo work?

9: Favourite song title?

10: Favourite lyrics?

11: Favourite photo of all four Monkees?

12: Guilty pleasure song?

13: Best Monkees song to sleep to?

14: Best Monkees song to dance to?

15: Best Monkees song to sing in the shower?

16: Best Monkees song for karaoke?

17: A Monkees song you think is overrated?

18: Which Monkees albums do you own on vinyl?

19: Which Monkees albums do you own as CDs?

20: A Monkees song that reminds you of a good memory?

21: Favourite song with Davy on lead vocals?

22: Favourite song with Micky on lead vocals?

23: Favourite song with Mike on lead vocals?

24: Favourite song with Peter on lead vocals?

25: Favourite episode of the series?

26: Least favourite episode?

27: Favourite romp?

28: Favourite fourth-wall-breaking moment?

29: Favourite running gag?

30: Favourite guest appearance?

[onsunnyside]

「 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓 」

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 — Do not plagiarize, copy, repost/republish, adapt or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third party sites. My blog is 18+, so minors DNI. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel, etc.). All my works are fiction and may be dark or have triggering content: read all warnings before proceeding.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: All my main characters are of legal age and their descriptions are vague to be inclusive to all! - unless specified.

☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ | @onsunnysidelibrary | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

【 fluff, smut, angst, dark, (c)ompleted, request 】

𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲; one shot ⤜ s, r (c)

✧࿐ You have your first orgasm at the hands (and mouth) of your two best friends. Based on this ask. [college au, Curtis Everett x virgin!reader x Jake Jensen, innocent!reader, innocence/ruined kink, corruption kink]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐬; collection ⤜ f, s, r

✧࿐ From the ashes of the Golden Age of Porn rises the demand for productions of all kinds—and wickedly stellar and infamously gnarly Love Shack Studios are on the hunt for a new star. [major crossover, pornstar!Curtis Everett x fluffer!reader x pornstar!Ari Levinson]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐞; collection ⤜ f, s (c)

✧࿐ To escape the crowded city of sharp lights, crime, and loud cars, Curtis moved out to the wilderness. He craved the quiet solitude of the forest with nothing but animals and trees to keep him company for miles. He was satisfied until you, a shy yet lively, clumsy hybrid with a nick in your ear, stumbled into his territory. From my sunny bunny party. [hunter!Curtis Everett x bunny hybrid!reader, grumpy x sunshine, size difference, innocent!reader]

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡; series ⤜ f, s

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝?; one shot ⤜ f, s (c)

✧࿐ Curtis has always protected you, and after a horror movie marathon, it’s no surprise you seek comfort in his bed. [Stepbrother!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader. Stepcest, somnophilia, corruption/ruined kink]

𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧'; series ⤜ d, f, s, a

✧࿐ Your whole life has been sugarcoated, a daydream full jelly-filled tarts and your lace-hemmed bedsheets—you’ve spent years squirming under your parents watchful gazes, with their strict warnings the soundtrack to your life. And in hindsight, it was inevitable for your salvation to be the opposite; tattooed, draped in dark denim and leather, riding down the street on a motorcycle and wearing the most sinister smile. [dark A/B/O college AU, dark alpha!fratboy!Curtis Everett x innocent!omega!reader, HC Verse]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬: 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬/𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[stormblessed95]

Happy Birthday Hobi!

To celebrate, I wanted to make a post highlighting what some of my favorite solo songs of his are! 🥰🥰 In no particular order:

Outro: Ego is one of my favs and it's one of my favorite performances from the ONE too. It's so fun, got an incredible meaning, and is just one of my general favorites too!

1 verse from Jhope back in 2015 is a KILLER song!! I didn't know which one to hyperlink and which one to embed, but I'll just link his live version here since it's only a teaser snippet, but please watch it!! Plus this amazing twitter edit someone did for Hobi day to 1 verse. And the lyric video below:

MAMA from their wings album! This is just a beautiful song and the choir that sings back up in the live version is AMAZING!! This song always makes me a teary eyed too 🥺

Trivia: Just Dance is one of my absolute favorite performances of his too. The song is an absolute bop that you literally have to dance to also. It's so good! This is iconic at this point!

Boy Meets Evil was INSANE and amazing in every freaking way. The beat, his flows, his DANCE, the lyrics. Powerful.

Please, Hopeworld as a mixtape was a MASTERPIECE. All of it is incredible and amazing. Baseline in particular is one of my favorites though! It's INCREDIBLE

Another mixtape favorite is Daydream and Hopeworld. They are so quintessentially Jhope. The way this whole freaking mixtape is the biggest bop while also spitting real shit. I'm OBSESSED. For real

Piece of Peace is another favorite of mine from the mixtape. "Everyone makes mistakes and suffers. Though I don't know them, I know their pain." Literally enough said 😭😭

And finally, Chicken Noodle Soup will complete my top 10. I was impartial to this song at first and now look at it, in my top 10 Hobi solos 😭 the way this is so catchy and has the most incredible backstory of why he did this song.... yeah, I love it more than I should at this point! And the OT7 Performance of it is perfection!

Special shout outs to the others, I love them too!! Hangsang has one of the sickest beats ever. And it's amazing. It features Supreme Boi, but no offense to him or anything, but Jhope eats him up and kills it. The flow switches!!!

Airplane is such a beautiful song. It's incredible, the flow is impeccable, the message is profound, the hope is always present 😭🥺

Blue side, the full version especially, just feels like a hug. From sunshine when you are feeling blue and down. Our Sunshine. Who understands us. 😭 He creates the most pure music at times that also never loses his unique touch. Always giving us such a bright spot of Hope and Love in life.

This one kills me in the best ways. I LOVE this cover and their voices together is insanely appealing and beautiful. Hug Me Cover special shout out by Jhope and V.

And just because I love listening to him sing. His raw vocals are sooooo good. Proposal Cover in 2014 by Jhope on a radio show cut. Just a quick little snippet. I love him!!

Happy Birthday to Our Sunshine. I hope he has a full day of rest and relaxation and the members, his family and friends continue to smother him in love and affection!! 💜💜💜

[louismeanhoe]

dear prudence, see the sunny skies

pairings: louis tomlinson x reader. dad!louis x baby!daughter

warnings: none. teeth-rotting fluff.

a/n: i'm a sucker for dad louis. i keep writing these domestic, soft snippets. daydreaming about being his baby mama

word count: 768

the empty house brings a solitary emotion to the depths of you as you walk the padded floors to the living room. it’s so eerily quiet, outside the wind seems to have been forced into stillness, white snow giving way to the first rays of sunshine that early spring grants.

hot coffee steams on your hands, the white mug that has some quirky friends quote he has given you as a supposedly funny gift. the memory paints a smile across your face, to think of him always lifts your mood. to think of his bright blue eyes, warm smiles, and comforting words does that to one. you wish you could wish him here.

he must be somewhere over the atlantic, charming the girls on the front row of his concert, singing sweet words that make everybody fall in love with him.

you pick up a forgotten guitar, that you had brought from the music room. prudence was sound asleep in her bassinet, a tiny thumb stuck inside those rosy lips she got from her dad. she looked so much like him. the blue eyes, the freckled skin, the thin lips, the upturned, narrow nose. it was like you had nothing to add, except, perhaps, the curls that twisted her fair hair.

after you plucked the first strings to the intro of an old beatles song, she started fussing, not quite crying, but unhappy to be left out. often, when louis was home, he’d play for her while you fed her, humming to whatever tune he decided to play for her. now that he was gone, despite being little, she missed her dada. like you did.

“i know, baby,” you scooped her up into your arms, bouncing a few times before sitting back down on the couch. “dear prudence, won’t you come out to play?”

prudence sighed, little fists on your shoulders, sucking the available skin, though it was out of habit, not hunger. you smiled down at her, rubbing her back.

“dear prudence, greet the brand new day”

you were so engrossed in the little human snuggled on you, that the sound of a parking car got lost on you. even the rattling of keys, and the struggle to fit the correct one into the lock. you were singing in a low, whispery tone, hopeful to lull her back into sleep.

louis stills when he beholds the scene, so domestic. he had missed it all. his baby girl, giggling at him while he cleans her up, and his wife, kissing his lips after a particularly hard day. if he could, all his songs would be about this. the soft moments no one knew about.

his daughter squirmed in her embrace, looking at him. louis smiled, bringing a finger to his lips, but she couldn’t understand what it meant.

“dear prudence, let me see you smile.”

you bring her closer, hopeful that she’d stop trying to escape the snug hug of your arms around her. she doesn’t, so you stand up, still whistling the melody, singing the last verses. that’s when you turn, and that’s when you find your husband, the ever-loving smile on that face, his hair tossed back, a ghosting beard creeping. louis had bags under his arms, he looked skinnier, too. your heart skipped a beat, both from the rushing emotion of seeing him again and the instant worry that flooded.

“hey,” he says, then winks. “you’ve been singing to her without me?”

“she can’t sleep without a song, you know that.”

“she’s so big, i feel like i lost so much already.”

“you’re home now,” louis bends a little to press a kiss to your lips. and on the crown of her blonde head. “plenty of nappies to change.”

“i think i’m sticking to guitar playing, gorgeous,” he laughs, picking prudence up from your arms, her bright blue eyes wide. “did ya’ miss dada, beautiful?”

prudence, the traitor, laughed. she tugged his hair, giving him her best mood. you go back to finally sip your coffee, relishing while he made a funny voice to fill the room with more of that gorgeous sound.

born to be a father, that man. you couldn’t have picked someone better to father your children. from the moment she came out of you, he worshipped her. she’d grow up to be stupidly spoiled, your version of cher from clueless. but it warmed your heart, to watch them.

“you want to go over to our favourite bakery to get breakfast?”

you hummed in response, “perfect, let’s get this daisy ready and leave, ok?”

“that sounds lovely.”

and it really was.