#yes i fucking LOVE this album. goddamnit

[birdbutbetter]

screaming and crying and rocking back and forth and doing a little spin (becoming the lastnames from will wood live album)

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I rant and rave about DiscoPunk performing and making albums and voguing together - but let the record show,

DiscoPunk goes fucking NUTS on Dance Dance Revolution

Pavitr and Gayatri are casuals that have a go on it at the arcade during their date nights 😊

For Miles and Gwen, it's a cute way to bond and tease each other, getting to know each other better and tripping over their collective four left-feet (You'd think Gwen would have the rhythm considering she's a dancer AND a drummer - but fam, Ballet is NOT the same as DDR)

But to DiscoPunk, this shit is NOT a game. To them DDR is a goddamn lifestyle.

Keep them away from that arcade cabinet because by God, they're here to wreck that shit. Bout to shake the whole place with it.

They're DDR Champions.

And that's ON TOP of Hobie's numerous Pac-Mac Champion wins, and his Space Invaders High-Score at the top of the credits list.

If you ever see the initials 'DSC0PNK' on a DRR machine? THAT'S THEM.

They play on EXPERT. They're not half-assing it. They're doing the arm motions and all

They're the couple that dance facing away from the screen, just to stunt on everyone there.

The ones that hop and switch dancepads with each other mid-song for fun.

Hobie's in his big-ass boots meanwhile Diane has on flip-flops. Neither are proper footwear for the intense athleticism they are engaging in. They do not care.

They only way they get away with it is telling Miguel they're 'Training'.

Of course Miguel knew that had to be a crock of bullshit. One afternoon that use that excuse.

Miguel lets them off the hook, but as soon as they leave, he asks Lyla - "They're making out or something, aren't they?"

And Lyla has to be the one to tell him. '....No, they're actually 'training'...'

Miguel raises an eyebrow. "For some reason, I'm not sure I believe you."

Lyla sighs. She pulls up the surveillance footage on Miguel's screen to show him that no, they are not making out, they're just hogging the fucking arcade machine in some Camden arcade going fucking nuts on a Dance Dance Revolution machine.

Miguel takes one look at them and thinks 'Fucking Boomers'

They take it so seriously. TOO seriously.

They'll fist-fight with any couple and even THINKS about clearing their high-score. Seriously, they're about to brawl with Felicia and Flash Thompson of Earth-1294 cause they topped their record-breaking High Score on Aqua's 'Barbie Girl'

- and now Diane and Hobie are training to beat their high score in Smile.dk's 'Butterfly'.

That's their together time.

Hobie can't dance for the fucking life of him but he CAN hit every single arrow on that screen eyes closed. And Diane has never touched a video game in her life - not even Tetris - but this ISN'T a game it's a COMPETITION goddamnit.

They just love being completely in synced with each other, they have full conversations while playing levels.

Hobie even learned how to hack it, so he could upload all kinda songs to the thing.

And when they play AGAINST each other, EVEN BETTER.

Jesus Christ almighty. The TRASH TALK.

Swinging limbs are each other to throw them off, sticking out their hands to cover the other one's screen.

DEATH GLARING at each other because yes Diane loves Hobie but she's not about to let him embarrass her up on this arcade, are you kidding me???

She's like "Think you can keep up with me, toothpicks?" (He has toothpicks for legs 😭😐)

"Who'd of thought the 'Disco Diva' would be 200 points behind, yeah?"

Do you understand? Do you see it???

DISCOPUNK Dance Dance Revolution

Miles and Gwen staring at them like 'Why are they so cute at everything!!!!! Why do our friends keep out-cute-ing us!!!'

Meanwhile Pavitr and Gayatri are secretly planning to take their title.

For three weeks straight, all you'll hear is Hobie and Diane yelling about the mysterious 'GP4E' duo that took down their score.

Little do they know that stands for 'Gayatri + Pavi 4Ever' (Pavi's idea, of course)

Now.. They must train.

There's an anomaly in 234? Who the hell cares!!! The arcade machine just got Cascada 'Everytime We Touch'!!!! THEY'RE BUSY!!!!!

[z-exo-l]

Cream Soda First Impression

As usual, audio first.

Oop! Kindaa…cbx? KYUNGSOO! Omg YES Sehun! Minnie???

…stop. I can’t!!!

I *love* the lower tones they’re playing with. Go rapline!

GET IT UP??? …Is that Jongin??? Sehun??? What???

…??? Kyungsoo??? What are you doing up there??? Did Kyungsoo just take the final high chorus while Baek took the ad libs what is this world we’re living in???

IS THAT KJI OR AM I LOSING IT!?!?!? IS THAT SEHUN??? OMG IF THAT’S HIM—

Okay. Visual now.

Okay, aesthetic ish opening.

!!! Sorry, Kyungsoo’s face just threw me back.

Oh my god, center Junmyeon? 😃

STOP KYUNGSOO OH MY GOD, ACK!!!

Go Sehun, go Sehun!! 😄

Minseok is such a chameleon, oh my god.

CENTER JONGDAE???? I’m living for this! Still hate that jacket though babe.

Btw I’m not especially commenting on the innuendos in these lyrics, I’m just gonna say that 1, these are grown ass men and we should normalize these kinds of songs. And 2, the *nerve* to rate this age 12!

You know, Sehun is fucking eating it rn, and I *get* that people miss Jongin, but please don’t ignore how well osh’s doing this sexy choreo. Good chorus honey!! 👏🏻

Now then. !!! GODDAMNIT KYUNGSOO STOP THAT!! THE LYRICS! BAEKSOO! (You know if you say baeksoo really fast it sounds like a sneeze! Sorry! My brain did its thing. 😅 Blame him!)

Jongdaaae oh my go—CHANSOO CHESS!

HOLY FUCK MINS— KYUNGSOO I TOLD YOU TO STOP IT HE’S DOING CHOREO IN THE SEXY OUTFIT! HE’S DOING CHOREO IN THE SEXY OUTFIT!!! I’m so sorry Minnie, you look gorgeous, that’s what rewind is for! These LYRICS!!! I didn’t need kms saying Yum Yum!

Oh FUCK YOU PCY PUT THAT AWAY! EXO-SC SLAY!!!

You know? I can see why they were exhausted with the dance practice. This beast needs stamina and we’re only half done. 😬

YEEES SEXY JUNMYEON with the voice, and you are KILLING it in these silks!!! Wait… 😑 I’m getting real tired of ksoo and his cleavage stealing my focus! Aww, poor baby’s hips are awful stiff 😅

Yeeees go Baekhyun! 😍 That outfit I swear to go—GET A LEASH ON HIS MAN WHY IS KYUNGSOO PULLING SO MUCH SUPPORT??? He’s *never* near the center this much!!! 😶 Ngl, I feel teased w that partial shot of Baek before the body rolls could commence.

?? Hello. Who are you?? 😑 No one was talking to you Chanyeol, stop that!

OH MY GOD IT IS KAI!!!! I’m so glad to hear him, even for a little bit!! 😭😭😭

Whaaatchya doin there Junmyeon? 😀 I feel like the mv is going TAME and letting the lyrics do the literal dirty work. Oh my GOD this man and his silks!!!

YEEEESS VOCAL KING Jongdae LET IT OUT!!!

!!!You expect poor Ksoo to sing chorus with THIS choreo???

THAT’S JUST RUDE Baeksoo tag team!

Baekhyn you cocky bastard…

CENTER MINSEOK GIMME!!!

Of *course* give Jongin the dirty lyric w out music so we can completely hear EVERYTHING.

……………Okay, I’m sorry. Am I the only one who thinks between all their pair ups in the mv and the disheveled looks they had at the end (from the wild choreo no doubt) the way Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are walking down the stairs looks like they just fucked and had a really good time doing it?

CENTER AND VOCAL SEHUUUN! …And as if he’s slapping me in the face, Kyungsoo looking all sweaty goDDAMN!!!

OHHH Firework logo!!! OMG!!! Was the clock stuff in the other mvs related to New Years??? And turning back time??? ….my brain hurts.

Can I say, I can see why Baek gave Kyungsoo a shout out for the choreo on twitter. He was putting in WORK!!!

Omg, I’m so giddy, but I have to listen to the album before I can rb stuff! Off to do that.

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

Advice from someone who just turned 25

Advice from someone who just turned 25 (I don’t know why I’m putting a second header but smart people on this site retype their titles so I’m not gonna question it)

You can Pavlov yourself into doing chores you usually hate by buying a record player + some good albums and putting them on every time you need to do that thing. It’s how I escaped the Laundry Curse

In that same vein: physical media. Buy physical media. Or steal it, fuck if I care. But have physical books, music, photos, etc. cause while yes, putting shit on a usb is convenient as hell (my family hard usbs with decades of music) they’re also really easy to lose. I hope whoever found my fanfiction usb I lost in college had fun reading my dumbass shit.

2 things it’s always worth splurging on are sunscreen and shoes. Don’t buy cheap sunscreen cause it’ll probably break you out and don’t buy cheap shoes cause they take more of a beating than any item you wear so they need to last.

Don’t wait until your body starts to hurt to take care of it. Stretch before bed, make sure to get done light exercise a couple times a week at minimum, etc. I have two grandmothers, both 85 years old, one does all of her gardening and spends all her free time traveling the country in a motorhome with the young guy (well like 65 years old, young for her) she started dating after divorcing my grandpa. The other? Nearly immobile, has had multiple strokes, barely a full person anymore. They both worked demanding jobs and had several children, they lived less than 30 minutes from each other. The only difference is one took care of herself when she was young and kept active.

I understand that we’re all poor but listen to me. Listen. If you’re going to eat the skin of a fruit, buy organic. If you’re gonna peel it and discard the peel, buy what you can afford. And don’t take this as an excuse to not eat any fruit goddamnit just eat the fucking banana.

People suck, there’s no getting around that. And sometimes you have to put up with your best friend being completely fucking irrational about their ex boyfriend and just suck it up. And sometimes you have to let your other friend play T*ylor Sw*ft in the fucking car and talk about gacha games. I guarantee you do something that annoys them just as much and they love you anyway. Have boundaries, but make sure they’re good ones. Don’t drop good friends because they have bad music taste.

Most people shouldn’t have pets. I did not say most people don’t deserve pets, frankly the vast majority DO deserve pets, pets are great and I wish everyone could have them. But it’s also really fucking expensive. And if you can’t reasonably pay for a dog’s vet bill, or can’t buy food that actually needs their nutritional needs, don’t get a fucking dog! Every time e I see someone say they’re living paycheck to paycheck, barely able to pay their bills, and then they just get a FUVKING PUREBRED LABRADOR PUPPY???? It makes my blood boil.

Shut the fuck up about your eating habits no one fucking cares if you’re vegan

[aflairformisadventures]

PIERCE THE VEIL IS RECORDING ALBUM NUMBER FIVE!!!

[arabian-bloodstream]

Demi Lovato - ‘Skin Of My Teeth’

I had these initial thoughts based on the snippets about "Skin of My Teeth"

Yeah, I kinda totally absolutely wish this was not the lead single. It rather feels like repeating the pattern of DWTD...TAOSO. Demi wrote in "California Sober," that she is "tired of being known for my sickness." And yet the first song released from her next album is about... surviving her sickness. Just like the first single from her last album. [...] I think that entering a new era, a FUN song--even if dealing with what she's gone through--would have been the better choice.

 I take them back after listening to the full song. Re-introducing herself to the world (especially so soon after the--let's get real-disastrous D7 era), it really works.

Looking at the lyrics, I totally got it. It begins with:

Demi leaves rehab again/When is this shit gonna end

Let's be honest, how many times have we heard not only her detractors, but even her stans (although they are more gentle about it) say a variation of here we go again. Her whole California Sober phase had just about everyone calling out that it was a recipe for disaster, after all.

I survived but it got harder to breathe

This line is heartbreaking. She did survive, but the pressure to keep going, and probably that continued, stronger pressure to be a role model *and* to stay away from the stuff was even harder for her. And, yet, think of the image she presented to the world.

Asking why doesn’t make it easier/Go easier on me

Trying to think about it, I don't think that Demi's ever really asked for her detractors to just lay off, to just ever really stop and think: Look at what I've gone through, am going through, just go easier on me. Here she is, and I love it.

And, it's not just to her detractors, I think it's also to those who are trying to help, who love her too. Asking why, how isn't helping. It's just.... let her breathe, let her live, she's trying, but it's not easy, so just let her be.

The reaper knocks on my door/Cause I’m addicted to more/I don’t need you to keep score/When I’m the one who’s at war

And this whole verse is directed at her detractors because it's a clear call saying, yes, I know, I know I fuck up. Yes, I know that I keep failing and falling, but I KNOW THAT. I don't need you telling me. I don't need you reminding me. I'm the one who keeps falling closer and closer to the edge.

Aaaah, and then this, this, this bridge hits so much harder when hearing in the context of the whole song:

I’m just trying to keep my head above water I’m your son and I’m your daughter I’m your mother I’m your father

She's saying that there are SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE out there who are struggling with substance addiction. She's just one of millions and millions. Look around and your son, your daughter, your mother, your father is in the same situation. This epidemic is everywhere, which leads us to...

I’m just a product of the problem

Because, yes, drug proliferation is everywhere, effecting so many people. Too many people. Demi is just one of too, too many. She's just put a very public face on it.

And then:

I’m alive

Yes, she's alive. She made it, and there is a triumph there which we can all be happy about it, but it dives right back into that chorus which reminds us that it's still a fight for her. And there is one different line in that final chorus.

Won't you try and have some mercy on me?

So, yes, I take back my complaint for this is as a single, it's a brilliant bridge between D7, all of the messiness that happened and this new era. Like it or not, Demi Lovato has been known for her sickness, and because of that she's done a lot of messy things. In this song, she's reminding people of that and (for the first time) she's asking people to take that into account and have some mercy.

After all, she's alive by the skin of her teeth. But, goddamnit, she's alive.

Join demiheads

[xbreezymeadowsx]

I like the drram concert question Madame sent so that's your question!

Goddamnit. Ok uhm…

P!nk:

(I know she will be the odd one out but she is my queen and it’s my damn concert.)

Get The Party Started, Today’s The Day, Blow Me (One Last Kiss), Just Like Fire, What About Us?, Raise Your Glass, Most Girls, Trouble, U + Ur Hand, Sober, Don’t Let Me Get Me, True Love, Are We All We Are, So What!, Fuckin’ Perfect

Wednesday 13:

(yes, I know some are covers, no one start screaming at me “BuT sO aNd So DiD iT fIrSt!”)

pretty much both full albums: Transylvania 90210 and Fang Bang, Not Another Teenage Anthem, Gimmie Gimmie Bloodshed, From Here To The Hearse, Put Your Death Mask On, I Wanna Be Cremated, Something Wicked This Way Comes, I Love To Say Fuck, RAMBO, Your Mother Sucks Cocks In Hell, Get Your Grave On, Necrophaze, Monster, Animal (Fuck Like A Beast)

Godsmack:

the entire IV album, Whatever, Keep Away, Voodoo, Straight Out Of Line, Serenity, I Stand Alone, I Fucking Hate You, Bulletproof, When Legends Rise, Awake, Greed, Cryin’ Like A Bitch, 1000HP, I Don’t Belong, Whiskey Hangover, Good Times Bad Times. And it’d be wicked if they did Mindfreak with Criss Angel

Headlining… I mean… DUH!

HIM

whole albums: Love Metal, Razorblade Romance, Dark Light, Deep Shadows and Brilliant Highlights, Screamworks: Love In Theory and Practice. other songs: Dead Lover’s Lane, Bleed Well, Passion’s Killing Floor, Love In Cold Blood, Tears On Tape, All Lips Go Blue, Wicked Game, Solitary Man, It’s All Tears (Drown In This Love), When Love and Death Embrace, Don’t Fear The Reaper, The Cage, And Love Said No, Rebel Yell(<< their live cover is *chef’s kiss*). Also Daniel Lioneye’s I’m The King Of Rock and Roll. also Ville’s solo single Loveletting.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Holaaaa!!! This chapter has come as a blessing after the shittiest of days, here we go!!

If I Have to Do One More Fucking Interview

THE BEGINNING

Fuck Shinyun... I just wanted to get it out 🤭

“I’m not having sex with you in public, Alexander!”

Yes you will 😈

Alec is the only thing that connects him to this place. To all of it.

Oh Magnus 😔 Is that why you wanted to run to London after the divorce?

“You don’t have to stop smoking for me if that’s what you are asking,” Magnus replies.

But you should stop smoking because even though is very sexy I'm getting worried!!

“No,” Alec replies.

Is like we are the same person 🤣

Maia 😍😍😍

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugs. “There are bigger deals. Being the senator’s son doesn’t hold a candle to being your boyfriend.”

And he dares call Magnus cheesy 😒

“I don’t even want a job in science!”

I don't like where this conversation is going 😔

“I understand,” It’s Maia who speaks. “You can be good at something and still not want to do it for a living.”

This is so true!!

And he hasn’t allowed himself to think about all of this.

😫😫😫

“You know. You’ve said the F word 27 times since we started talking,” Maia notes.

Is an exclamation point for him, leave him alone 😎

“You are what my lecturer calls a PR nightmare,” she tells Alec, but her mouth is curving a little in the corner.

Congratulations! he is your PR nightmare now, please sing the adoption papers here and here

THE MIDDLE

If anything is a lethal look, it’s that.

These two are so horny for each other and yet we haven't got enough sexy time 🤷🏻‍♀️

Half hour, and one thoroughly satisfying work out session, later, they have breakfast. Max and Rafe are awake now too.

Finally 🙌🏼

“Besides, it’s not technically an interview,” Magnus informs. “It’s an autocomplete interview.”

Ooh I love those!!

His paranoia seems almost silly now. The fears of a boy on the run and nothing more. 

Ouch foresight is a bitch 🥲

“Park! Park! Park!” their three-year-old starts chanting at the breakfast table.

The way I love my chaotic child 😍😍

People Who Can Hold Their Liquor + Simon

These chat names give me life!!

Simon:

You know what. Screw this.

@izzy will you marry me?

Is this the best proposal ever??

“You know what,” Magnus says and picks up the cloth. “I bet I can still carry you in this. Come here.”

😍😍😍 too cuteeee!!!

He smiles, his heart full. 

Happy Magnus is the best Magnus

“I want one,” Alec tells him, looking at his phone. “A girl.”

I'm a girl 🙋🏻‍♀️

How is Magnus Bane…How is Magnus Bane related to Camille Belcourt?”

Goddamnit.

Fuck Camille... undefited queen of the Fuck You club!!

These questions are amazing!!!

“Right here,” Alec replies and points to himself. “Magnus Bane’s family is right here.”

Perfection

THE END

Rafeee!!! I wanted another Rafe POV 🥳

“Why not?” Max asks, looking down at his tank top – which says, ‘Pussy Power’.

🤣🤣 my child

There is a link to a BuzzFeed quiz. “Which Taylor Swift Album Are You?”

I did this test and got RED ❤ which one are you Dani?

The same goes with dad and bapak too. People are always publically thirsting after them. 

Sorry Rafe I can't help myself your parents are hot

It’s probably why he hates Shinyun too.

Fuck Shinyun, that hot well dressed opportunist

I hope this tweets don't get too mean or might have to kill people 🔪

Max grins at the camera. “Are you roasting me or are you roasting Mallory?”

The handles 🤣🤣🤣

How mean is that mean tweet?

WTF?? I feel curious but also like knowing will hurt 😫

Wait is the tweet in the jacket??

Oh, Max indeed

Let my babies be happy and together!!

At least we didn't get Malec angst in this one 

Thank youuuu Dani, this was amazing and surprisingly fun, we'll probably pay for it next chapter but I really needed this today so I don't mind... thank you ❤❤❤❤

Your reactions and gifs make me cackle so bad I CANNOT.

I hope your shitty day is over and tomorrow is kinder! Sending you good vibes.

I did do the "which Taylor Swift album are you" quiz and I got Folklore too sfkvsdncsjk. It says "You're original, introspective, and intelligent. You spend a lot of time in your own head, writing little stories and thinking about the world."

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 6/29/21

i read part of a book, the reading section is no longer fallow, we have planted and sown some sort of crop

listening venus fly trap by MARINA. a dear mutual whose post i cannot find and i do not want to tag in case i am misquoting her called her latest lyrics “preachy” and i gotta agree? this one is almost but not quite a fun throwback to electra heart era. whereas that album was very much about watching “weaponized femininity” and a persona crumble around you, this is more of a mean-girl single designed to get your attention on the rest of the album. “why be a wallflower/when you can be/a venus fly trap” is an inherently delightful line.

because i take a week off from this project every december, one week’s listening gets doubled up. glass animals’ mama’s gun gets on here bc it is perfectly engineered to stick in the back of my brain. i love a layered, kind of cluttered instrumental backdrop. the chimey-chimes! the sad woodwind! i don’t know that i particularly care for the lyrics or the people in the internet arguing about whether this song is about drugs or schizophrenia (the band said it’s about drugs, don’t be terrible to people with schizophrenia)

reading here is a stab at the beginning of a post, bc i fully intended to finish this book sunday night and then. didn’t.

i’m trying to walk a fine line between pointing out things i find irritating and taking an older work for what it was at the time but tumblr is not known for its reading comprehension so i am belaboring some points and being more diplomatic with my word choice than if i were jawing about this book with friends. i read The Drowned World by JG Ballard as one of my first forays into the adult (shut up) fiction section at the library. there are some lines that have stuck in my brain for more than ten years, such as (describing sailing over a city under sixty feet of water) “...like a reflection in a lake that has somehow lost its original.” i’m a sucker for “sad man on the bleeding edge of civilization holes up in a once-grand building with looted bits and bobs”. i think it’s good set dressing and i love a poor little meow meow. 

@morrak​ kindly offered me a pretty vintage hardcover that came in the mail a few weeks ago and i finally had time to crack it open. i draft these posts on sunday, and this sunday it comes to you from my phone in my landlord’s backyard, where a hammock really isn’t helping with the ninety-two degree heat and fifty-eight percent humidity. a good backdrop for reading about the earth remembering it used to mostly be a big swamp.

i typed a very long draft that ended up being mostly “wow kay you’re saying a novel written in the 60s is worried about the destruction of the world but in a dreamy and kind of sexist way with a tenuous relationship with reality at best?” yes. that’s just how old sci fi is sometimes and we can point out how parts of it don’t hold up for a modern audience while talking about the parts we do like.

for example, it takes a lot of its flavor and style from late-1800s harder scifi about hidden worlds/a changing world due to industrialization (think Journey to the Center of the Earth, or any novel about a secret paradise at the South Pole, or Erewhon). it is, instead, a softer scifi mostly concerned about the effects of living through a disaster that isn’t your fault and couldn’t be prevented, and what staring at constant ruin (no matter how beautiful!) and isolation does to a guy’s brain (as opposed to “harder” scifi like a lot of Verne’s work or Liu Cixin’s The Three-Body Problem that are really interested in how future technology might realistically work). i personally don’t think it’s a meaningful remix of these early altered-world novels, or at least i personally don’t find it terribly compelling in this particular aspect. women in late-1800s scifi either don’t exist at all or exist to be rescued from primitive humans so the author could write about some cool guns killing people. Beatrice thedrownedworld is in fact a catalyst for part of the book, but she does not feel like a real person, whereas Robert thedrownedworld feels like most of the professors ive had. poor bea, trapped in a sixties novel only to look pretty, be negged, and serve as a psychosexual metaphor. i have a pet theory that if you fuck in an older dystopia (like older horror) you die, but i don’t really have enough data points to separate it from standard misogyny just yet.

but at the same time, it’s such an interesting example of an apocalypse that isn’t humans’ fault. the earth is just doing some fucked-up shit for a while, and we might as well go see what’s up. in a lot of earlier scifi, the earth is just doing some fucked-up shit in the polar regions and we might as well go see what’s up.

sidebar, bc i’m me: in late-1800s scifi there’s some fun brotherly love/camraderie among the protagonists that you could put an interesting queer reading on (ask me about my Professor Arronax-twentythousandleaguesunderthesea-is-trans-theory) but Robert thedrownedworld is extremely straight. also like most of the professors ive had.

this is a book i’m fond of for its place in my life at a particular time and some really good imagery. sometimes on a sunday afternoon you read a short novel that does an excellent job of telling the story it set out to tell, and that’s enough.

watching the L0ki show. d/isney for once did not queerbait me, i do find their budget and attention to detail in costuming and set dressing excellent, and i do love an unapologetically not very nice woman. from previous experience with this particular flavor of #content this particular company puts out, i do not think it will hold my interest for a full season. also i am unable to read TVA as anything but Tennessee Valley Authority but that’s a different post

playing fallow week due to NDA

making lots of cleaning and packing and move-prepping. bought a fuckton of future textile crimes at various yard sales, which need to be frozen bc im inherently suspicious of old yarn and i’ll be fucking damned if i bring carpet beetles or moths into a new place. bug-free zone in the new place goddamnit

[fangirleaconmigo]

The Amazing Devil Favorite Lyrics

The Horror and the Wild

I am finally posting my long ass treatise on my favorite lyrics from each song on this album.  Like any overly obsessed (detail oriented?) nerd, I understand no one may read it and I also understand that doesn’t matter. It’s putting love out into the wild that matters.

So, here are my favorite lyrics from each song and why. Some are for small reasons, some for big.  My only caveat is that every lyric is good and this was like choosing between children. Wait. Second caveat. These songs talk about loss, illness, trauma, so if you don’t want to have that conversation, maybe skip the post.

The Rockrose and the Thistle

And I find you with a thimble weeping May I, I ask, may I?

These lyrics punch me in the heart.  And maybe I read into it but that’s what art is for right? It seems that this song is about loving a person with trauma.  It mentions a mother and father, so it’s childhood trauma, maybe abuse.

And this lyric.

I find you with a thimble.  That part. The person with trauma is trying. And when you have PTSD from childhood trauma (raises hand) it’s easy to forget you’re trying. It’s easy to feel you are just broken and fucking up. But you aren’t! Every day that you get up and try to be kind to yourself and to others, you’re working hard on healing. You’re trying. YOU JUST DON’T KNOW HOW.  And it’s hard. The imagery of fumbling with a thimble and knotted thread. Jesus tap dancing Christ I don’t know why but it gets me.

May I, I ask, may I? Aughhh. The way this is phrased.  This person considers it an honor to help. They don’t consider you a burden. They aren’t telling you how to fix things. They’re asking what you need. That’s two of the hardest things about living with the effects of trauma.  Feeling like a burden, and having people treat you like you’re stupid and just not trying the correct thing yet.

It’s so powerful to me I can feel it in my chest and the way Joey sings it so spare and plain.  I feel this song was written to murder me specifically.

This would be why I wrote an entire 60k Geraskier fic about this song.  It ruined me but in a good way?

The Horror and the Wild

Give me back my heart you wingless thing.

That, kids, is what we call worldbuilding.  You see, some of the songs on this album are more literal. Others are lush fantasy novels set to music.  And that line.  Why is it of note that the thing is wingless?  Is the person singing winged?  Are most people winged in this world? Are they angels? Winged hellbeasts?  Graceful birds? And what does it mean to be wingless? Does it mean you are more dangerous? Sinister? Addictive? Tempting? Who knows!! It sets my imagination soaring and I think that fantastic.  When someone makes my imagination wander off, that’s a gift.

Wild Blue Yonder

I LOVE belting this song. The socks off a bank lock. Burning the place to the ground. I’m lost I’m found. My neighbors might hate me for all the belting. Today I’ll be discussing:

We don’t know what’s out there Could be ghosts or monsters or a robot vampire I dunno

Yes. Robot vampires are fun to think about. But that’s not why I chose it.  It’s because they have already speculated that it could be wolves out there.  It could be all our demons.  And when you have a different explanation every time, you’re lying, you don’t actually know, or it’s beside the point.  It’s the ‘I dunno’ that does it for me in this line. In other words, it was never about what was out there. It was about what is in here.  The thing we’re holding onto so tight we’re bruising. Everything out there, whatever it is, can just go fuck itself. Goddamnit don’t you just want to hide under the covers sometimes?

Of course you do.  You’re a human. 

(I assume you’re human. Wait. Are you winged?)

Welly Boots

Fuck. I’m crying just reading this fuckin song again.  I’m choosing three lines.

‘You were supposed to be my light And keep me safe against them all How could you leave me here' you’ll scream

Grief. Man. When an artist strikes exactly in that grief place, and captures something about what it feels like to me personally, it takes me back and it hurts.  Yet the fact that someone made me feel that, means other people feel it, which means I’m not alone.  And isn’t that the entire goddamn point of art?

This may sound weird but that Buffy episode The Body made me feel this too. It captured something about grief that resonated with me and just laid me out. And this song does too.

You were supposed to be my light, (this can’t be happening) And keep me safe against them all (I needed you god fucking damnit) How could you leave me here' you’ll scream (it’s not fucking fair)

I lost my older brother to suicide and I’m telling you I can’t listen to this song unless I want to sit and cry. I skip it most of the time. But that’s a compliment.

Farewell Wanderlust

Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the back When you think about him, my wings start to flap When you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floor And when you lie there awake every night love, I soar

Yes, I picked a whole verse but too bad. The first time I heard this song I was like ok, I’m going to be listening to this song on a loop for the foreseeable future. It is D E L I C I O U S.  Madeleine is MAGICAL in how she sings it.  And these lyrics…I turn into the physical embodiment of that Antonio Banderas gif. You know the one.

It’s just OH MY GOD.  It’s evocative of imagery, of a feeling, of a person, it’s like character, worldbuilding, emotional impact, conflict. Who gives him the right to write this well? IS THIS EVEN LEGAL?

Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the back (I don’t even bother coming up front to laugh at you.  You can’t even quite see who is laughing at you so that makes you powerless to even understand why it’s happening. Also, hahaha, you fumbling dumbfuck)

When you think about him, my wings start to flap (the wings imagery again. I LIVE FOR IT I mean I’m a fantasy fan so this is my shit.  Also, this person can read your fucking mind! They are so powerful they can read your mind yet they take the time to feel sheer joy when your fumbling moronic dumbass is in misery. THE PETTINESS I LIVE)

When you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floor (Your mistakes are even more delicious, you piece of crap. Also, just the imagery of feet lifting from the floor after the wings flapping. MY GOD.)

And when you lie there awake every night love, I soar (Again, you can’t even see this person and they know everything about you. THEY ARE IN YOUR ROOM AND YOU’RE OBLIVIOUS Yet nothing makes them so overjoyed as your misery. THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD THE STORY IT TELLS)

Fair

I could easily pick every word of this song. Every one. It squeezes my heart. But…

It’s not fair cos you make me ache you bastard

Choosing that one because the way Joey’s voice is so raw there it’s a stab in the heart that is so delicious. I’ve also put that in a fic. Because I steal from brilliance.

Also, ‘So much fuckin hair’ is evocative.  And no one appreciates a good ‘that’s what she said’ joke like I do. My mortified son can attest to that.

Unwanted Animal

��Be good to me,’ I whisper. And you say ‘what’. And I said ‘nothing dear.’

Again, I would like to choose every word of this song. Also, the way Madeleine just stalks in, chews up the whole thing, wails, whispers, growls, sets the whole fucking place on fire and you thank her for it. I mean this woman can tell a story. Keep you in the palm of her hand and toy with you. She’s a goddamn goddess. Ok the lyric.

It’s hidden vulnerability but also a little menacing given the rest of the song. I’m not sharing my vulnerability with you but it’s there. Why aren’t you sharing it? This is multi layered character and world building. And you feel a stab of something because it’s evocative of an emotion everyone understands. BRILLIANCE. *chef’s kiss

Marbles

Cos now I get to meet you for the first time every single day

This is the song that made me pledge my lifetime of undying loyalty to this band.  See, it may not seem obvious from my passionate rantings, but I have never thought of myself as a romantic person. Most romcoms, and most love songs are some variation of people just meeting and falling in love or wanting to bang. And hey. That’s exciting. But I also don’t care. I’m not invested. I don’t believe it matters all that much who you date. I mean you choose from the pool of however many single people just happen to live in your vicinity. Like who is in driving distance who is an attractive person and also a good person. Honestly, it’s not that mystical or earth shattering.  

I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t believe in soul mates. So. Not romantic. But I do believe in the power of making a decision every day to build something with someone.  That’s what impresses me. It is what touches me.  It’s where I find the magic. Deciding to be family for one another and building something that didn’t exist before. Deciding every day to offer someone love in an unloving world.

And that brings me to Marbles.  

Cos now I get to meet you for the first time every single day.

This couple spent an entire life together, through good and bad, and still considers it an honor to endure the soul crushing grief of losing your life partner to dementia or Alzheimers.  The grief is an honor because it is a part of the love. I need you to sit with and understand how powerful of a message that is. If you’ve had to watch someone you love deteriorate and die then you know the power to make you cherish it is almost unthinkable. But it exists.  It’s called love, motherfuckers.

And also, the fact that someone doesn’t remember you but you still consider yourself lucky to have them, shows that your love is not at all connected to what that person can do for you. It’s a love that’s a gift.  Giving it is the reward. The sheer humility and kindness of that takes my breath.

I also have to skip Marbles most of the time, because when it gets to that line I can’t cope or go about my day normally.  The power of that kind of love, the tragedy and the beauty of the human condition. This is my favorite song on the album.

Battle Cries

And as I walk away I know I’ve been through the wars, But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause

Again, most songs or movies about love are just fun to me. Not really affecting. They seem to think love only matters, or is only successful if it lasts forever. I don’t believe that and you can’t make me.  The only thing that matters is what you are doing with your moments today. And all those moments you spend loving, aren’t less than simply because the relationship ended.  If things didn’t matter because they ended, then childhood wouldn’t matter. Life itself wouldn’t matter. That’s just FALSE. What you put into the world, what you give each other, it matters.  Even if it doesn’t end like a Disney movie. (Spoken like a woman who’s been through a divorce, yes?)

That’s what this song means to me. There’s beauty and value in trying. In fighting. There is value in things that end. Otherwise none of us would be worth a shit. We end, don’t we?

And as I walk away I know I’ve been through the wars, (You fought for love. What could possibly be more noble than that.)

But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause (it’s all in how you look at it and in what you choose to value. Also, according to Unwanted Animal, prayer sounds like applause. I love this album)

IN CONCLUSION

That’s why this whole album matters to me. First, it sees magic where I see it. In ordinary people. In ordinary moments. Also, it doesn’t deny there are horrors.  Let no one tell you that grief, death, illness, or trauma are not horrors. They are.  But what I get from this album is that we are all choosing to live. And part of the condition of life, of being a human is the horror.  It’s inextricably a part of love, of joy, of everything else. So, if you love, you grieve.  We try to separate them out and put them into their own corners. But does it work? No. Not really. Grief is the price you pay for love. And it’s worth it.

So maybe there is nobility in enduring the horrors. Of feeling them. Of suffering along with everyone else stuck in these meat suits, and continuing to love. Maybe that’s what makes us human in the first place. And maybe we’ll get through it if we do it together.

[fullmetal-hearrt]

Months after it’s release even today, when I listen to Mono; it just baffles me how each and every damn song on this mixtape is simply magic. From ‘Tokyo’ to ‘Forever rain’, Literally no song on this mix is a skip. The skipping option doesn’t exist when it comes to Namjoon’s mixtape. MONO IS THAT BITCH.

MONO was, is and always will be so much more than just an album man. Every single song on here is a story on its own. I forget just how fucking incredible this mixtape is until I hear it again and I realise that not even for a second did I not like a song or even a part of any song? Like? This album? Outsold the entire industry on its own?

TOKYO? That song? The vibe on that song? How is Tokyo even a song, it’s a feeling. That soft baseline that accompanies the entire song makes me feel things I didn’t know existed and let’s not even talk about “can’t sleep homesick babe”. This single line after that pause; OUTSOLD every emotion out there in the human spectrum.

SEOUL?? I moved out of my parents house like three years ago, moving to a new city, all alone was so terrifying but at this point, this city feels like home? There’s so much shit I went through in this city all on my own BUT that shit I was put through made me exactly who I am. As much as I hate this city for its cruel ways and fast life I also can’t help but love what it made me today and if that ain’t what Seoul is all about. I can’t believe Joon was able to put these emotions into a song but nvm.

MOONCHILD GODDAMNIT. THAT BOP. As someone who literally hates HATES going out and just existing in front of the world in the daylight, with all your scars bare, with people everywhere just waiting for you to fall with their eyes wide; This song just means so much to me. “Can’t breathe in the sunlight”  Yes Namjoon, yes. The night is for people like us. People who belong to no one but themselves and people who don’t want no one but themselves. All alone, halfway into the night, bare moonlight and the dim glow from a laptop playing music, reading some sappy book about life. That is it. Those are his ‘moonchildren’, right there.

BADBYE being baselines half sister; makes me want to slut drop into the last dimensions of hell and the all of a sudden the mood change of the song and the way it changes so subtly like fuck? And the ICONIC “and I cry, you know I, I cry”. I still cannot put it into words how badly I felt all my emotions hit me like a fucking train when I heard that damn line change for the first time. Joon really got me hard there.

UHGOOD just really really speaks to me about how one can seem to have accomplished everything on the surface but deep down inside only you yourself, know how satisfied you are with the life you’re living. How the world sees you can never quite change how you see yourself? I can have everything that I put my eyes on but even then, at the end of the day; “I feel so lonely when I’m with me”.

EVERYTHING GOES. Hands down, my favourite song on the album. That song makes me feel so fucking safe? Like I’m safe here when listening to this song and that I’m strong enough to get through whatever it is that’s bothering me and idk? He is not saying that you’ll be alright or whatever, he is simply saying that, whatever you’re going through, this too shall pass and if that isn’t exactly what we need to pick ourselves up cause nobody else will ever do it.

The way this album ends with forever rain that has in its lyrics a combination of all the thoughts Joon expressed in all the other songs on this mixtape. How forever rain is kind of a patchwork of something taken from every song on mono. How forever rain was the first song that was released and how Namjoon, the main rapper of BTS, the boy who has been put through so much hate just cause he was “too crude” “curses too much” “sings too fast” “is just a mainstream rapper” “can’t dance, can’t sing, can only rap” went ahead with “everything slow”.

THIS BOY put out a mixtape, full of different genres, feelings and emotions many in this industry cannot even comprehend let alone put into songs. The way Namjoon came out with mono and nothing has ever compared and how nothing WILL EVER compare. This mixtape is always going to be one of the best things that ever happened to the music industry and goddamnit just give mono it’s Grammy already.

Thank you, Joon.🌱

[flaneuriste]

Ten things I’ve learned from watching the ‘Von Trapped Family’ (that’s what the Gilmour family is calling themselves) livecasts:

So....David’s wonderful wife, Polly Samson, was supposed to be doing a book launch of her latest “A Theatre for Dreamers” but, of course, it was cancelled ‘cause of COVID-19. Instead, we’ve been getting several livecasts on Facebook. They are sheltering together at their country home with all of their children except for Joe (at least Joe doesn’t show up anywhere). Son Gabriel built a backdrop that looks like a Greek taverna (the book is set on the Greek island of Hydra). Oldest son, Charlie is the 'interviewer,” reading questions and comments, Polly answers most of the questions and does readings from her book, Charlie’s wife Irina occasionally reads one of Leonard Cohen’s poems (Leonard is one of the major characters in the book) in between taking care of their baby. Romany, David and Polly’s daughter, plays harp and sings absolutely heavenly duets with her father. David plays background guitar, singing occasionally and commenting even more occasionally.  ONE   This may be the only time I’ll get to see David live...who KNOWS when he’ll come up with another album and tour and even then, I think it highly unlikely he’ll ever tour N. America again so....I haven’t given up hope but I am really grateful that I get to watch this.  TWO  UTTERLY charming. The whole bunch of them.  THREE   I LOVE POLLY. No, I mean I really love her. To paraphrase @glorious-blackout​ “Ma’am, I am a simple heterosexual, quit confusing me.” She is so lovely, unaffected, funny, kind, brilliant - she’s an absolute darling. I probably wouldn’t have known anything about her if she and David hadn’t married but she impresses me to no end.  FOUR   Every single one of this family has a beautiful speaking voice, Irina is from somewhere middle Europe - Ukrainian, perhaps? Damn, I adore that accent. She’s very quiet but when she read that poem. WOW. Charlie has that exact pronunciation and modulation you expect from a very eccentric, very educated, very literate sort and I am totally here for it.  Polly has what I can only describe as a warm voice, David too. They have such warm tones in their voices. She’s doing the narration for the recorded book version and David is doing the sound production for it, so you KNOW it’s going to be good.  Romany’s going to have her own paragraph and so is David.  FIVE  There is always at least one dog in the room. The dogs are very much included in everything. I remember that moment from “Wider Horizons” when David was walking by and greeted their old doggie (who is gone now), “Hello Mr. Khan.” He does the same thing with their present dogs. This family LOVES ANIMALS (be sure to Google Charlie’s whole experience with Benzene, his pet magpie).  SIX  Everyone is invited to submit questions on the Facebook feed. SHE ANSWERED ONE OF MY QUESTIONS.  But aside form that, I have to admit that I get really annoyed at both the repetitiveness and, frankly, the disrespect for the occasion in a lot of the questions. It’s HER book that they are launching and they don’t mind answering other questions but, as you can imagine, tons of them are: “Will you and Roger ever play together again?” (really? Really? REALLY?); “When will you be touring again?” “Come back to ____ (fill in location)”  Anyone who knows A N Y thing about David knows that he gets so fucking tired of the same thing AND that he has way too much respect for his wife than to turn it into a PF thing.  SEVEN   I really want to read this book. Leonard Cohen had a big impact on me, since I was about fourteen or fifteen. Polly thinks he is one of the greatest poets of our time and I have to agree with her.  EIGHT   Romany. She. looks. so. much. like. David. Just a tiny bit more feminine but SO MUCH. She plays the freaking harp for pity’s sake. He plays guitar, she plays the harp, they harmonize together like a couple of freaking angels. Chrrrrrrrist. Someone asked if she were going to pursue a career in music and she said, “NO!” Who can blame her? I feel bad for the offspring of famous people who try to go down the same path for all the obvious reasons. Anyway, she’s other-worldly beautiful, as you can imagine. She’s into acting (theatre) and photography.  And Polly said that when she is deep in the writing process and driven by it, Romany delivers cups of tea and snacks to her desk.  NINE  David and Polly. So not only can any of us who wish to find a man ever find a man who really compares but goddamnit, they seem to have one of the nicest relationships I can imagine. I am SURE it’s not perfect (in fact, I know that one of their songs rose out of a fight they were having “What Do You Want From Me”) but it looks really good.  Keep in mind these livecasts are very unstructured and sort of goofy, like you just dropped around to visit them and you have to take what you get. And they just casually say things like this:  David: “It’s a privilege to work with someone who is as great a writer as Polly” Polly: “David is in all of my books”  The way they look at each other.     Sigh. TEN  David. One of the questions was about who cooks the most and what is your favourite dish of that person. Polly said David cooks the most and her favourite creations of his is “posh cheese on toast” (this is also known as Welsh Rarebit OR Welsh Rabbit because the people of the British Isles like to confuse the rest of us). Apparently he adds the leftover brie, which sends it right over the top.  He speaks the least of anyone, unless someone asks him a direct question, which is usually Polly. He noodles about on the guitar, mostly Leonard Cohen songs. Charlie calls him Papa. I am convinced this man is living his best life. He looks so content and mild. His speaking voice just gets better - lower, richer. His singing voice is as good as ever. People hound him about touring and so on. Honestly, why would he? He loves his home, his family, his studio in the barn, cooking, puttering around the garden. Why go to all the trouble? He might still but I don’t think he has any desire for big tours anymore and I can’t say I blame him. He’s been there, done that.  FINALLY   Yes, of COURSE I wish they would adopt me. Okay, that’s not true ‘cause I am lucky enough to been born into a loving family -  but I wish they would be my best friends! How I would love to drop around to the farm and find out what fruit trees David has planted and which roses Polly likes the best. There are no perfect families. There are no “well-adjusted” families. There are always traumas and secrets and regrets. But this one seems to be doing a fairly good job. Best wishes to David, Polly and all of their brood.  And a special hi to Barbounia and Random Dog - extra cute. 

[rustbeltjessie]

TRUST YR STUPID FUCKING HEART (a playlist)

[This playlist and accompanying text were made for Witchsong in March 2016. But Witchsong has since gone dark, and 8tracks, where the playlist was hosted, has also gone dark. I still love this playlist/piece, so I decided to post it here in its entirety, and round up links to the songs. (I tried to remake the playlist on Spotify but unfortunately a few of these tunes aren’t available there!)]

Lizzo - En Love

M.I.A. - Fire Fire

Little Esther - I’m A Bad, Bad Girl

The Last Shadow Puppets - Bad Habits

Rilo Kiley - Portions for Foxes

Worriers - Unwritten

Colleen Green - Whatever I Want

The I Don’t Cares - Just A Phase

Thurston Moore - Psychic Hearts

The Kills - Fuck the People

Pixies - The Holiday Song

Dum Dum Girls - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

El Vy - Need A Friend

The Cars - Dangerous Type

The Make*Up - White Belts

The Mo-Dettes - White Mice

Thee Headcoatees - Ça Plane Pour Moi

Huggy Bear - Pansy Twist

Bikini Kill - I Like Fucking

Mika Miko - Sex Jazz

Dresden Dolls - Dirty Business

Screaming Females - Triumph

(+ a bonus track that isn’t on the playlist: Jolie Holland - Springtime Can Kill You)

It is springtime, and springtime can kill you (just like it did poor me). The light is clearer and hangs on longer in the sky each day, the birds are all singing riotous songs in the treetops. A few days ago, it was seventy degrees; I drank iced coffee and resisted the urge to cut the sleeves off all my t-shirts. It is springtime, and I am so damn restless I’m about ready to tear my skin off. I can’t focus on anything. I pick up a book, read a few pages, put it down again. I start a poem, write a few lines, quit. My notebooks are full of Jenny Holzer-esque truisms that I write in all caps. YOU WILL GET SO TIRED OF WEIGHING THE POTENTIAL CONSEQUENCES. SOMETIMES YOU WILL BE READY TO SAY “FUCK IT” AND FOLLOW YR HEART. BE A DRUNKEN SLUT. STOP THINKING. IT’S SO TIRING. TRUST YR STUPID FUCKING HEART.

I just want to trust my stupid fucking heart. Or maybe I just want something that makes my stupid heart beat faster.

I am so tired of weighing the potential consequences. When I was younger, I usually leapt into things without caring what the result would be. (And now I can’t believe I didn’t put that Shivvers song on this playlist: when I was younger, when I was younger, when I was younger.) I went for what felt good, or even bad, as long as I was feeling something. As long as it made me feel alive. But there were enough adverse consequences that I began to grow afraid. I was often on the verge of eviction, because I did things like spending my rent money on road trips. I hurt people. I disappointed people. Friends and family started telling me that I was wasting my life.

…some might say that you and I have wasted our lives so far. Yes, we have had our hearts broken more than most. (We’ve broken some hearts, too.) We’ve had brushes with the law; and we’ve dealt with pregnancy scares and unemployment and spent many mornings too hungover to even move. But we have also experienced so much poetry, seen so much beauty, received so much love. We have had more fun in our short lives than most people ever get to have; so how could we ever consider it a waste?

-from something I wrote in 2006

Maybe I still want to waste my life, if wasting my life is what it takes to feel alive. To paraphrase Dazed & Confused, a movie I watched over and over when I felt those first reckless, restless stirrings in my teenage body: I need some good old, worthwhile, visceral experience. I want to go out into the wild, twisting night, want to take drugs, get laid, maybe get in a fight. Except I don’t do drugs anymore and I don’t get in fights anymore and no, I won’t spend all my rent money on a road trip. There are certain things I’m not willing to risk, and that’s for the best. But I am tired of worrying about what other people think; tired of not doing what I want to do because it might hurt or disappoint someone in my life. I don’t want to hurt anyone, of course not, but it’s my life and it’s springtime and my heart is saying go. I want to fuck. I want to dance. I want to smash it up. I want sudden intense connections with interesting strangers. I want to take long drives in search of coffee and trouble. (Remembering that spring so long ago when I drove the seven hours from Chicago to St. Louis just to get coffee at a Waffle House.) I want to rip my tights, walk along the train tracks, get my boots all covered in good mud. I want, I want, I want. No, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I am tired of not being myself. And I’m bad news, baby, I’m bad news.

I’m just a traveling girl with a wild mane of wavy red hair, holes in my tights, all my clothes smelling of smoke. I can roll a cigarette while driving down the freeway at eighty miles an hour. I can get drunk as shit and get two hours of sleep and drive from one town to another, then do it all again the next night. I can find my way anywhere. I can get lost anywhere.

-from something I wrote in 2007

I dye my hair red again every spring. No matter what other colors I might dye it the rest of the year, in spring I metamorphose back into a redhead. I was born with red hair but it faded to a drab brown when I hit puberty, some shitty twist of fate, so I became a bottle redhead. Red hair is fiery, brazen, witchy. (Redheads used to be burnt at the stake as witches, because it was believed they had magic powers.) Red is the color of anger and lust, love and rage. The color of blood and lipstick and my stupid, wildly beating heart. Girls like me are meant to have red hair.

It’s springtime, and I’m a wild redheaded girl for life. So take me out tonight. Take me anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care. Take me to where the rough edges of the night meet the back alleys. Take me to the rooftops and fire escapes of your town. Take me to all-nite diners, where we can get coffee-buzzed and plot to take over the world. Let’s walk around. Let’s drive too fast on backroads. I don’t need your love, I just need a friend.

I still want all the same old dumb shit I’ve always wanted. Spontaneous adventures, crushes, mix tapes. Music I can feel in my guts, in my bones, whether it’s hip-hop or the punk rocks. Sneaky eyes and sleeveless t-shirts. Sex and danger. In the immortal words of Henry Rollins: I want to fuck on the floor and break shit. Yeah, I like fucking. I’m always restless, and next to wandering, sex is one of the few things that eases my restlessness. And I believe in the radical possibilities of pleasure, babe. I do, I do, I do.

I’ve lost some friends because I’ve failed to grow up properly. These friends used to be just like me (you fuckers used to be just like me), but they went straight. I don’t mean straight as in heterosexual, I mean straight as in normal. They became capital-G Grown Ups. They got advanced degrees and nine-to-fives and stopped making zines and got their tattoos removed. I’m an adult, too. I have a kid, and a writing career; I pay my bills instead of going on ill-advised road trips, I don’t go on benders or do drugs anymore. But I also haven’t given up crushes or adventure or art or punk; I’m still making zines and giving myself stick ’n’ poke tattoos. I’ve still got that steel-toed spark and that teenage j.d. twitch. Maybe they’re bitter because they thought growing up meant giving all that up.

We can have all of it! We can be mamas and healers and have love and morals and sweetness and good things in our lives, but we don’t have to give up the rest—we can also be wild punk rock goddesses of destruction and fuck and fight and drink and smoke and swear and make mad art, goddamnit!

-from something I wrote in 2013

I should’ve known something was up the last time I saw M.—before she decided she hated me, when I still thought we’d be friends for life—when she said: “I’m over Amanda Palmer. It’s not cute to tell young girls that it’s okay to be fucked-up.” That stunned me, because she was once a fucked-up girl, just like me. She and I used to listen to Dresden Dolls albums and talk about how eerily close to our own lives they were, how it was like AFP had looked into our souls and made songs out of them. But maybe that’s the other thing. It’s not just that M. and the others gave up their former passions. They also regret that they ever lived that way. They regret the days of chronic unemployment and ill-advised road trips, the crazy-mad love affairs, the all-nite diner marathons, the epic meals we made from what we found in dumpsters. And I don’t. No matter how I’ve changed, or how many of those things I don’t want anymore, I could never ever regret those days. They made me who I am, and they gave me so many stories to tell. To all the ones who thought they knew me best, a test to prove your prowess. Who was mine in ’99? I want last names, and current status.

No, I don’t want to wind up on the verge of eviction, or have my electricity shut off. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But it is springtime, and I am so tired of weighing the potential consequences. And I’m just a redheaded restless punk rock goddess of destruction for life, and I still want all that shit that makes my stupid, reckless heart beat faster. Loud music, caffeine, adventure, sex. If you’re like me, you’re feeling the same way. So:

WHO CARES WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK. STOP THINKING. IT’S SO TIRING. TRUST YR STUPID FUCKING HEART.

Get out, get out of your house.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Harringrove + Live Aid

Okay (this is so long) but IMAGINE a pre-S3 situation (where Billy and Steve got together some time after S2 bc Billy found them and helped them fight while he was looking for Max)(bc MONSTER FIGHTING BOYFRIENDS and that’s all i have to say on that) and imagine Billy hearing about Live Aid and NEVER having been to a concert before (“Seriously? Never?” “I’m poor, Harrington. I tried to sneak into a Grateful Dead concert once but the police were crawling all over the parking lot busting people with weed.” “... Grateful Dead? Really? Aren’t they like… an old hippie band?” “Shut up, Harrington.”) and he starts absolutely GUSHING over the idea of being able to see Black Sabbath and Judas Priest and Eric Clapton and Led Zeppelin and yes, even Santana (bc he kicks ass) and Bob Dylan and Joan Baez (bc his mom was a hippie and even though he has some deep-seated anger and sadness in that department, he grew up listening to the ~~classics~~ of the hippie generation and he can appreciate their presence greatly)

And Steve… Steve listens to Billy gush and complain and whatnot about this for maybe… a day? before he’s figuring out how to get tickets. He’s figuring out how to get tickets before he even knows the rest of the line up, which he’s actually very excited about once he sees it. Simple Minds? Madonna?? The Cars??? Duran Duran????? Fuck yeah.

and tickets are….. expENsive. Steve only gets paid like $3 an hour so he’s gonna have to start saving now but maybe by the time they come out, he’ll be able to buy tickets. He doesn’t let on to Billy that he’s gonna do it. but he does. it’s $35 for random tickets but $50 for tickets with better seats and, call Steve crazy, but he wants to get Billy those better seats bc the boy has never been to a concert, plus some of his favorite bands are playing???? he’s getting them those good seats. He doesn’t need those new ray bans coming out on Friday or that new stereo he was saving up for. and when they come out he rushes to the ticket place nearest them, sending apologies into the ether to Robin who’s gonna have to work by herself for a little bit bc the tickets came out by surprise and he needs to go if he’s gonna get them. and when he finally comes into work, 2 tickets to the biggest concert in their lives in his back pocket, he immediately grabs a grumpy and confused Robin into a hold and spins her around, singing Don’t You (Forget About Me) and ignoring Erica Sinclair’s irritated yelling in the process.

and he does the same thing with Billy when he sees him next. he grabs him and he spins him around and he kisses his cheek and his forehead and his nose and he kind of misses on a few and gets his closed eyelid but it’s fine bc every bit of Billy’s precious face is kissable and they’re going to the biggest concert in their lives! But he doesn’t tell Billy. he just lets Billy get irritated and push him off. he lets Billy call him crazy right before Steve pecks his nose. he lets himself admire the blush that crosses Billy’s face.

But when… when the damn monster comes back; when Steve gets stuck in that weird underground basement of the mall being sought after by Russians; when Steve gets his face smashed in by them; when Billy incurs some serious injuries after that monster tries to basically eat him alive…. Well… 

Steve tells Robin about the tickets first. Robin’s heart lurches for him but she pokes Steve’s shoulder gently and calls him a sap for doing that for his ~~boyfriend~~. She says he HAS to tell Billy, even though it might break him even more, bc keeping it a secret is only going to eat away at Steve and hurt Billy if he finds out. She helps Steve sell the tickets after Jonthan and Nancy refuse to take them, saying they’d feel way too bad about going when he and Billy can’t.

Steve tells Billy the next time he goes to visit his near bedridden boyfriend and Billy is quiet and doesn’t talk much for the rest of the day but what he does say is: Hey… now we get to watch Queen on TV.

Steve smiles sadly.

But as soon as Billy gets enough strength, he basically attacks Steve with kisses and hugs and the cutest fucking nuzzles and Steve doesn’t think it’s real for a second but Billy Hargrove is nuzzling his nose into Steve’s neck and the space behind his ear and thanking him a million times over. 

And when it comes time for Live Aid, the boys are a touch sad, but only a touch, bc Steve has invited everyone over to his house to watch it on his big TV screen bc his parents are STILL away on vacation. So everyone is here, even Hop and Joyce and Murray and Alexei bc this is the biggest concert in decades (and yeah, Hop and Joyce saw bits and pieces of the coverage on Woodstock but LiveAid is massive) and…

It’s so fun. It’s more fun than Billy has had in a long time and he’s spent the better portion of the last year getting fucked into oblivion by King Steve Harrington, so that’s definitely saying something.

And as the broadcast goes on, as El and Max and Nancy jump and dance to Madonna, as Joyce tears up over Joan Baez and sings along with her, as Hop sings all the words along w/ Crosby, Stills, and Nash, as Alexei shows a very surprising interest in Run D.M.C., as Robin shushes everyone during Elvis Costello’s version of All You Need is Love and sings the little “babadadada”s along with him, as Mike and Lucas serenade El and Max VERY LOUDLY w/ “Can’t Fight This Feeling” along w/ REO Speedwagon, as Steve joins Dustin and Will in an air guitar contest along to Bryan Adams’ “Kids Wanna Rock” that Murray is the judge of, as Billy nearly cries over every Beach Boys song bc it reminds him of warm, summery beach days w/ his mom back in San Diego, as Steve gives a very heartfelt performance of “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” to which Lucas and Mike and Max and Robin throw pillows at and boo (and which Billy gets irritated at bc he wants to watch his boyfriend sing and dance, goddamnit)...

As they have more fun than Billy thought would ever be possible w/ all of these typically irritating little losers… Billy completely forgets that they had a chance to be there and see half of these people in person.

It’s not until Queen comes on that Billy is actually glad they weren’t able to make it to the concert. Billy is on the couch w/ Steve, Will, and Jonathan. Max is at his feet. They’re all glued to the screen and by the time Freddie starts singing, so is everyone else. Will is breathless through Radio GaGa. Joyce gasps when everyone in the audience starts clapping in unison. They all yell along with him when he starts his call and response. Billy is tearing up and Max gives him shit for it. Billy kisses Steve during We Are the Champions. Max and El make gagging noises and Jonathan covers Will’s eyes in jest. Steve apologizes to Billy that they couldn’t make it to the concert, and Billy admits quietly that this is better than seeing it live. When Steve asks him to repeat that Billy tells him to shove it.

Billy and Hop shush everyone as Eric Clapton plays. Jonathan nearly hyperventilates over every song by The Who. Robin pulls Billy and Steve up to dance with her and Will and Max and El when Elton John comes on. Joyce and Nancy fangirl together over Hall & Oates.

And when it’s over, the kids start to argue about their favorite parts.

Dustin: “I think the best part was-”

Max: “If you say anything other than Queen, you’re wrong”

Mike: “C’mon El, Rick Springfield isn’t that hot…”

El: “He has a pretty face and his hair is fluffy.”

Lucas: “Jonathan, who was that band you were super invested in??”

Jonathan: “The Who? I have all their albums if you wanna borrow some.”

Will: “Tommy is the best one, Lucas. For sure.”

Lucas: “Yeah? Can we listen to it? I liked the pinball song.”

And Billy’s heart is full and he can’t believe how fun this was and he slips out the backdoor to the porch w/ Steve and makes out with him against the wall bc “fuck Harrington, that was amazing.”

“Music really turns you on, huh?”

“Shut up, I can’t kiss you when you’re talking.”

[breathinginthissilence]

tagged by @iinchicore​ thanks bb. I’m not including four fics that technically fall in my latest 20 on AO3 because three of them are SPN fics that I wrote over 10 years ago and decided to re-edit and post, and one is a redux of an older U2 fic

Rules: Look at the titles of the last 20 fics you’ve posted and answer the following questions.

1. How many are you happy with?

I’m actually pretty happy with them all, I generally agggggoooooooonize over fic titles and don’t like to post if I’m not happy with them. 

2. How many are…not great?

I suppose Talk Dirty to Me is a little on the nose, but it fits the fic, goddamnit, so yes. 

3. How many did you scramble for at the last minute?

Four that I can remember, with the greatest scramble being reserved for my latest, The Edge of Glory . . . legit spent an hour losing my mind trying to find the right title, putting Spotify on scramble and looking up song lyrics, poems and the like before my brain was like GAGA SAVES, Y’ALL

4. How many did you know before you started writing/creating, or near the beginning?

Twelve, that I can remember. I often get an idea after listening to a song or having a title pop into my head and create a fic from there, and life is so much easier that way.

5. How many are quotes from songs or poems?

10 are direct song titles, because I am fucking lazy and also because of answer number 4. Into the Shallow was inspired by Shallow because GAGA SAVES Y’ALL. Three Chords and the Truth is a quote from All Along The Watchtower as told by U2. Nexus could technically be lifted from Astronomy by Metallica, as that was the first time I ever heard of that fucking word and I was like now that is a fancy word, I must keep that close to my chest for future use. But I do often incorporate the titles into the actual fics too, just so I look like I’m making an effort.

6. How many are other quotes?

So Tonight That I Might See is an album title chosen to link to an older fic, Lost in Translation was stolen from the movie of the same name for asshole reasons, Reading is Fundamental came from me scouring SPN episode titles, and Livewire, Moonlight and When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth are quotes (or single words...) from the fics themselves.

7. Which best reflects the plot of the story/content of the fanwork?

Oh boy, um. I’m terrible answering shit like this. Maybe Nexus, as the entire plot is built around these two knuckleheads trying to find a supposed lost connection (and so much more...)? Also, Talk Dirty to Me, because . . . well, I think one can figure out what takes place in that fic. 

8. Which best reflects the theme of the story?

Icarus, mostly due to plans for additional chapters that I never was quite able to realize. It’s the whole flying to close to the sun thing, or caaaaaaareful Icarus, as Craigy Ferguson might say.

9. Which best reflects the character voice of the story/pov of the fanwork?

Three come to mind. Livewire, because the narrating character is just that and that comes through at numerous points within the fic, Somewhere A Clock is Ticking because there’s an inevitability, I think, that Edge recognizes, as though they’ve both been watching that clock tick away, knowing once it reaches a certain point that it’s time to stop resisting, and Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums (which I am determined to finish, but life got in the way) because jesus christ, that is Barry Berkman/Block all the fuck over. 

10. Which is your favourite title?

Somewhere A Clock is Ticking, NO WAIT, ICARUS, NO, LIVEWIRE, I CAN’T CHOOSE, DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE, CAN’T I PICK SOMETHING THAT ISN’T FROM THE LAST 20 FICS? because that way, I’d totally pick The Love That Was More Strong Than Any Love Had Ever Been or For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky or Presenting "Untitled Robert Downey Jr/Tina Fey Project" Starring Robert Downey Jr and Tina Fey. (This Film Is Not Yet Rated) or The Father: Or (quam vilis et didici vide ut sileas diaboli) BECAUSE THEY ARE GREAT Y’ALL 

[stevieang]

May I Have This Dance? Chapter 5/?

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size Reader Insert

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going. This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff, though this chapter throws in some EXPLICIT CONTENT - smut, language, situations, etc. DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 years old.

Tags:   @3dsaunt​  @andiyholly​  @averyrogers83​  @babybluesunsets​ @bettercallsabs​ @brittyevans​  @brookebarnes​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @cecygee​​   @csrfavs​​   @docharleythegeekqueen​​  @dorito-distractions​​  @everythingisoverrated​​  @fabicchi​​  @favhearts​​  @flawless-disaster​​  @gifsbysimplysonia​​ @hazeleyedgirl7​​   @hennessy0274-blog​​ @inumorph​​ @jaguars2007​​  @jaamesbbarnes​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​​  @janeyboo​​ @joshburtonhellzyess​  @jouhainak​​ @learisa​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @lilylovescomics​​   @lojo83​​   @lookwhatyoumademequeue​​  @lostinspace33​​  @madicardi​​  @magellan-88​​   @mamapeterson​​   @me-a-hopeless-romantic​​  @meyoko10​​  @mindingmyownbusiness​​ @mizzzpink​​ @neverleturheartshow2​​  @nomadicpixel​​  @part-time-patronus​​ @patzammit​​ @pinkieandthebrain1​​ @redqueen1221​​ @sebbytrash​​  @sgtjbuccky​​  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​  @stark-spangled-banner-man​​  @st-eve-barnes​​ @stillherebiandabitch​​ @sunriserose1023​​ @suz-123​​ @the-real-kellymonster​​    @tutis24​​ @winterismyfavoriteseason1945​​  @winters-beauty​​ @yaykitty3​​

Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding.  At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston.  Much polite flirting ensues. Here’s the “more to come.” Enjoy!

A/N: Hey y’all!  Thank you so much for your time, your kind words, and all the good stuff you send my way! I am loving this fic now, and though this chapter took me a long time to start, it flowed once I did.  This chapter had a rough start, but then once I just wrote, no filtering, it came to me.  Of course, that meant a hella lot of editing, but that’s sorta my jam. :)

Now that was different.  A woman he was attracted to and wanted to spend more time with would not accept a gift from him.  He was pissed when she refused, worried when they didn’t talk, and understanding once they had. Guess he’d have to employ one of his weakest skills - patience.  Something - instinct, gut feeling, mojo - told him she was worth waiting for.                      _________________________________ That night, instead of talking, you got to work on a personal project you’d been putting off.  A pile of pictures had been in a box, under your bed, since you moved. When you put them in sequence and tucked the last one into the now-finished album, you felt complete.  As you looked over the pictures of you and John with and without dear friends and family, you felt peaceful. When you put the book away, grabbed your laptop and credit card and began to investigate flights and hotel prices, there was nothing but giddy excitement.  

Giddy morphed into deeply-rooted nervousness as you proceeded through customs at Heathrow.  Within a few days you were able to secure a flight and a place to stay in London that didn’t break the bank and keep all the plans secret - you took that as a sign you were doing the right thing.  You were disappointed that opening night tickets for Tom’s new play, “Betrayal,” were sold out, but you were able to secure good seats to the Saturday evening performance, which gave you a bit of time to get dolled up and obsess about everything.  You were almost certain that Tom would be ecstatic, but a tiny voice poked through your surety and planted insidious seedlings.

The dressing room was filled with flowers and well wishes.  Tom read each one and made sure his assistant knew to whom he should send thanks.  Reading your note was different - he couldn’t pass it on. It filled him with an urge to see you, to nuzzle your neck, holding your luscious body to his.  Goddamnit, this was harder than he thought it’d be. A quick “Thank you, love” text later, and the 5-minute-til-curtain announcement pulled him into the world of the show.

_________________________________

You read the text thanking you for the flowers, and felt ridiculously proud.  You obviously hadn’t given anything away, even remembering to tell him you couldn’t speak on the phone for the day you’d be traveling, as you had “plans.” You were impressed that your description of said plans was sufficiently believable so as not to prompt further inquiries. The day of the premiere you refused to let him think you forgot him, all the while itching to spring your surprise early.

_______________________________

He was supercharged, high off the success of the first night.  There were the usual opening night slip ups, but nothing too major. The chemistry between the three actors was palpable and worked in his favor, as the anchor.  He wasn’t the sexy lothario in this one, he was the wronged husband. He wasn’t the betrayer, but the one who was betrayed, and it felt fucking phenomenal. But….he missed you.  Missed talking and catching up at night. Missed hearing that little gasp when you answered. Missed the way your voice washed over him, soothed him. He was beyond grateful to his friends and family for showing up, and between the show and the after party it was an extremely satisfying and happy night.  Now, at home, alone, when you’d usually be talking, he felt your absence. When his text alert sounded after a brief repose from the lovely congratulations and messages of support, he wasn’t expecting what he read.

You: Congratulations!!! I wanted to let you know I was thinking of you and wishing I was there.

Tom: Thank you darling, that means a lot.

You: Do you want to tell me how it went? I understand if you’re exhausted and can’t, but I am very eager to hear how brilliant you were.

Tom was always surprised how good it felt to receive your compliments.  They were sincere and sweet and sometimes exaggerated, but he never doubted you meant them.

Tom: I am a bit tired, but I’ll say that I was quite pleased.  Zawe and Charlie were brilliant and the audience reacted in all the right places.  I remembered my lines and no one fell off the stage, so a good first night.

You: I’m sure you were all amazing, I’m so happy things went as you’d hoped. I snuck outside to text you, so I’ve got to get back. Just wanted to let you know you were on my mind.

Tom: Thank you, love.  You are often on my mind.  I do wish you were here, but I understand why you can’t be.  Watch for the reviews online, ok?

Tom drifted off after saying goodnight, but you were wound up, thinking about the next day and hoping it would be as well received as his first-night performance.                                          _______________________________

When the nerves hit, they hit hard.  As your hair was coiffed, your makeup applied, and your leather jacket draped over your black-and-silver outfit, you liked what you saw. The opening-night reviews had been glowing, and your ticket was already worth more than what you paid for it. Honestly, seeing the production was a lucky byproduct of traveling to see Tom, but you had a hard time focusing on any of it as you cabbed it to the theatre and were shown to your seat.

A million scenarios ran through your head.  Would he see you from the stage? (You were close but not that close).  Would you text him and give him an obliquely-worded hint? (He didn’t look at his phone during the show).  Would you wait for him to exit the theatre at the stage door? (God, these hypotheticals were making you nauseous. Enough.). As the curtain rose to more-than-polite applause, you felt your smile growing as Tom made his entrance and immediately owned the stage.

He was magnificent.  He used his body, his voice - everything he had to transform into the character, to become a completely believable cuckold who was stripped of loyalty from and to the woman he once loved and the friend he once held dear.  Your nerves were gone as you forgot about Tom and just saw his character, Robert. You’d experienced live theatre before, but never like this. Your heart broke for the characters, you wished they could experience their lives in the moment - with raw, real emotion instead of being so….reserved, so….closed off.  

When the final line was spoken and the audience stood and roared its approval for the cast, you continued to think about Tom’s power, his talent, and how much you wanted to experience it first hand, in every way possible.  The show was an aphrodisiac, filling your mind with possibilities and fantasies and your body with jolts of electricity. As the ushers encouraged people to exit, you took out your phone without hesitation.

You: Tom, you were magnificent tonight.  You were raw and powerful and sexy and commanding.  Thank you for being as good at your job as you are, it was a wonderful evening.

You didn’t expect a response, at least not immediately, so you grabbed a drink and some dinner at a nearby pub, thought about the show, and returned to your hotel, lit up with excitement, enjoyment, and expectation.  The clock was taunting you, keeping you mindful of each minute after the time Tom usually texted. You took an almost-hot shower, washing the beautifying lacquer off your hair and face and body, which helped settle you, and flipped through the TV channels, unable to remember anything you saw.

Then.  Your alert tone.

Tom: ????? Did you see the reviews????

You: Yes, I read them last night as you suggested - congratulations to the entire cast and crew - you were all roundly lauded.  After tonight, I can see why.

Tom: Wait…..

You weren’t surprised when the ringer went off as you started typing.

“Are you saying you were at the show tonight? My show? In London?”  You had to smile at his increasingly specific criterion, ensuring that you and he referred to the same place and event.

“Yes.  Tonight.  Your show.  London. It was unbelievable, Tom.”  Waiting for him to speak felt interminable.  You heard him breathe at the other end of the line, and would’ve missed what he said next if you hadn’t focused intently and shut off every other nearby source of noise.

“Didn’t you want to see me afterwards?” You gasped your answer.

“Of course I did, but it’s not like security would have let me backstage, and this isn’t like a 1920’s opera house where I could send a handwritten note by courier, alerting you to my presence - you told me your phone is off until you leave the theatre.” You heard doors closing, clicks, and street noise.

“Where do I tell the driver to go?”

_________________________________________

She was here, in London.  She saw the show tonight and she loved it.  She said he was sexy and raw and powerful. For the second time tonight, his adrenaline raced.  As soon as he read her text, deliberate thought vanished with just her in its place.

_________________________________________

The nerves were back, but this time with a giddy edge.  You considered changing back into your super cute theatre outfit, but decided real was better, and real was you in your pajamas with wavy hair at your shoulders and no makeup.  Well, maybe a smear of clear lip gloss and deodorant, just to make sure.

_________________________________________

Tom: I’m here

You: Room 607

Your breath caught when he knocked, hard.  His head was down, his hands in pockets as you looked through the peephole and unlocked the deadbolt.

You stared.  He stared back, through you, his eyes predatory, his body tense.  

“May I come in?” you both chuckled at him having to ask.  You looked down as you reached for his hand and followed his movement as he kissed it.  You walked backwards until you were far enough inside to close the door and silently hugged him, feeling his chin find its way to your shoulder as your hand ran through his curls.  His arms encircled your lower back with a strength that made you feel so safe, helped you know you were in the right place. His whispers sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.” He laid tiny pecks along the top of your shoulder and shifted so they could trail up your neck and behind your ears.  “I missed you so much, darling. I could scarcely admit it to myself, but you knew.”

Your hands laced behind his neck as you smiled into his kiss.  You expected passionate groping, but this was soft, sweet, tender.  

You walked him over to the couch, “I missed you, too.  All the steps to get here just sort of happened, so I went with it.”  He smiled, his long fingers lightly brushing along your forehead, randomly dropping delicate kisses along the way, the whisper giving way to a grumbling rasp.  “I’m glad you went with it.”

You turned around and leaned over the back of the couch, your arm outstretched.  You giggled when his arms remained around your middle; his lips intermittently kissing your neck.  When he spotted what you were holding, the famous Cheshire Cat Tom Hiddleston smize lit up his entire face before pulling you in for a kiss that left you breathless.

“Want an autograph?” Your red face may have darkened another shade as he gently took it the Playbill from your hand.

“Actually, this is for you.”  His forehead reactively scrunched up and his laugh softened as you pulled him to sit with you. His face held questions until he realized what was inside - a sort-of scrapbook of your journey to get to that moment - mini pictures of you holding your ticket on the way from the US, going all touristy in London, and smiling while kissing the cheek of the huge poster of him outside the theatre.  He closed it and, without looking away, found your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. You turned the program over so he could read your words and watched as he read, sighed, and closed his eyes.

After a moment, you bent forward and raised your eyes in a silent question.  When his opened, tears balanced on the lower lids. You quickly placed your hands on his cheek and kissed him.

“Thank you, darling.  This is something my ancestors will swoon over when they find it among my most prized treasures.”  You laughed - at his memory for your conversations, at his sentiment, at his sweetness. You leaned back and encouraged him to put his head on your lap, where you sat peaceably, your fingers running through his curls and his absentmindedly running over your thighs, while you talked and laughed, ate takeout and kissed.

“Darling, wake up, come to bed.”  You were disoriented when Tom gently shook you awake and offered you his hand.  The room was dark and you weren’t yet familiar enough to navigate to the bedroom without a light.  You yelped when your feet and legs were run through with pins and needles, but eventually they subsided and you sank into the king-size bed, Tom pulling the covers over you and kissing your forehead.  That woke you up.

“Tom, please stay.  Please, there’s plenty of room and I think we’re both sufficiently tired to guarantee no funny business.  I give you my word I won’t make any untoward advances.” Even in the dark you could see his grin, and were relieved when he slipped back from the bathroom with his shorts and t-shirt on, keeping at least an arms length between you.  After a whispered “good night,” he was asleep, while you were very much awake with decidedly untoward thoughts running through your head.

You must have fallen asleep, because the streaming sunlight and your bladder were prompting your eyes to open and your body to get out of bed.  Tom slept, his face peaceful, his arm reaching out towards you. Morning business done, you started the electric tea kettle and bundled up in a sweater on the couch, looking out onto London.  

“What a beautiful sight to wake up to.”  You smiled to yourself as Tom made himself a cup of Earl Grey and sat down next to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.  You pulled your feet under you and fell in next to him, reveling in the warmth from his arm holding you close and his kisses on the top of your head.  The silence was easy and companionable, but it masked your jitters and edginess and awkwardness. Welcome back to your usual trifecta of feelings when you were uncomfortable.

You gently extricated yourself and stood close to the window, looking down at the big bustling city and sighed.  You didn’t notice him cross to the same window until he put a hand on your shoulder and gently turned you to face him.  

“It’s a bit early in the day to be sighing, dearest.  You ok?”

You were ok, really, but your small smile didn’t convince him of that.  You tried to sell it in the face of his unbelieving look.

“Yes, just tired I think.  All the traveling, excitement to surprise you, seeing you, the play….I could go on.” You couldn’t say what you were thinking, couldn’t tell him - clingy didn’t look good on anyone, so you tried walking away but he held firm, pulling you in for a languid, dreamy kiss.  Your sigh was different, this time full of satisfaction and pleasure. His eyes found yours as you practically glowed.

“Can I try one more tactic to solve this mystery?”  You face belied your suspicion, but you nodded your consent, irregardless.

He took your face in his hands and kissed you more passionately than he ever had while he walked his hands under the waistband of your pajamas.  His long fingers spread across the expanse of your ass, squeezing, rubbing, and eliciting a long, low moan. Your back arched as your arms circled tighter around his shoulders, unwilling to let him loose.  When you broke apart for oxygen, he walked you backwards towards the bedroom.

You stood at the end of the bed, unable to get each others’ clothes off fast enough - your nightshirt flew across the room, his pants were kicked away, until you were in your undies and he only his boxers.  His eyes raked over you with laser precision, not missing a roll or dimple or bump. All you felt was fire - alive, hot, and burning, through every part of you. You reached out for him, wrapping his arms around your back to unclasp your bra and then standing pressed to each other, skin to skin, unable to stop what was going to happen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He had to ask twice before your brain registered words, and you were so damn hot from him kissing down your body, before you were both naked, you could barely formulate coherent speech.  You pulled him up and kissed him hard, pushing his boxers down while shimmying out of your boy shorts. In between urgent panting breaths, you gave the abbreviated version, before laying down on the bed and watching him prowl up your body, maximizing how much of his skin touched yours.  It didn’t matter, it wasn’t ever going to be enough.

You threw your head back, lifting your body off the bed, the sight of Tom staring through you increasing your arousal by the second.  He started to move off the bed, your protests making him smile while he pulled a condom out of his pants pocket. Before he could open it, you motioned him to travel back up your body.  When he stopped too early you scooted down so his engorged dick was directly over your mouth. You gently held the base, twisting and applying pressure as you moved up and down, feeling the rhythmic pulse of the vein running from root to tip as it bulged in your hand.

_______________________________________

Tom could not believe he was in her room, on her bed.  She was here with him, in London, because she wanted to be - no coercion, no false pretenses, just her quiet confidence in her feelings.  Whatever those feelings were, they were more than reciprocated. She captivated him, from her glee at the surprise, to the scrapbook, to the inscription - they made his heart practically jump out of his chest; he could not believe his luck.  When she opened the door, he wanted to hold her, wanted to kiss her and tell her sweet things she should hear every day of her life, and wanted to be with her in any way she wanted.

Though he wouldn’t have predicted falling asleep together, fully clothed, on the couch in a hotel room as the way his night would end, it was perfect.  They didn’t hold back, just did what felt right at the moment, and it worked. When he woke and heard her quietly singing in the living area, his heart lit up before he even opened his eyes, and when he saw her watching his city, having a cuppa, he was reminded of what attracted him in the first place.  She was peace. She was light. He hoped she was his.

Right now, though, she was under him giving him what may have been the best blow job he had ever experienced.  He kneeled above her face, clenching every muscle below the waist, but as she grabbed his ass and worked him with her mouth, it became increasingly difficult to stay still.  

“Darling, darling, stop.”  As painful as it was - literally - he sat back on his haunches, popping out of her mouth.  He looked at her swollen lips, lusty eyes, and tore open the condom and rolled it on, no fluffing needed. He felt “it” - the desire for everything about her, everything she was, flood his senses.  He could only do one thing, let her feel him, feel how much he felt for her.

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You scooted back to the head of the bed and couldn’t help but run your hands over your full tear-drop breasts, your torso covered in a landscape of lines you were once ashamed of but now knew were your prizes for living and surviving. Tom’s face was...different. He leaned forward over you, capturing your lips in a kiss so simple, so pure while encouraging you to get ready for him to be inside - the only place you wanted him to be.

As he broke the kiss you warned him how loud you could get.

“Guess I’ll have to think of ways to keep that pretty mouth busy, then.”  He nudged your legs wider apart, and proved what a good man he was.

“Do you want this, my love? Do you want me?” It was unfathomable to you that he might think you didn’t, but you gave your consent faster than you thought possible, kissing him in appreciation.

“Yes, please, I’m so ready, I need you so badly baby.”  With his forehead leaning against yours he used his tremendous strength to hold himself up on his forearms while he slid inside.  He was surprised when he didn’t need to slowly inch in, that you were able to take him in without pain, and ask for more, faster, harder almost immediately.

He started rocking back and forth, holding the headboard while following your every command.  You both knew there was no way you would hold back for long, and neither of you wanted to. Within half a dozen strokes, he was so close he could cry, and your entire body felt like lava, completely molten and unable to cool.  You wanted nothing more than to yell out you could not take another second without coming, and he knew. He leaned in, rasping out all the encouragement you needed to let go and cum furiously all over his cock, immediately pulling him with you over the edge.

If it was possible to feel like lead and air at the same time, you were there.Your body hadn’t been fucked that gloriously in a very long time, and it filled you with an afterglow that anyone would see, but also with the need for sleep.  To sleep, perchance to dream of this wonderful man breathing deeply beside you, watching you adoringly, and wanting nothing more than to stay right where he was for as long as you wanted him.  

Chapter 6