only listens to fob because they're in the "emo quartet." Also listens to Melanie Martinez and Halsey. Would die for Troye Sivan. Probably watches danandphilgames
fueled by ramen crew. Mostly or exclusively listens to og fbr / Chicago bands like The Academy Is..., Gym Class Heroes, The Hush Sound, and Cobra Starship. Low-key spits on type 1 fans
fob is the softest band they listen to. Loves Pierce The Veil and Sleeping With Sirens, worships Escape The Fate. Would die for Andy Beirsack. Only listens to fob because their shirts are at hot topic
also me: on june 24th 2006 the panic at the disco band and crew went skinny dipping in myrtle beach, as confirmed by greta morgan of the hush sound in an interview. later that night, a cast member posted about brendon’s virginity, or obvious lack thereof, on her blog. in the early hours of morning, george ryan ross the third, former lyricist for panic at the disco, posted the following on his livejournal: The moon bred new Atlantic life tonight.the salt burned you right out of my eyes.and secrets we’re not proud of were taken with the tide. We were all newborns with blurred vision and no sense of direction.Today I saw cancer, cigarettes and shortness of breath. this is why I walk to the ocean.swim with jellyfish.I may never get this chance again. this is why if you want to kiss you should kiss. If you want to cry you should cry, and if you want to live you should live. You don’t have to love me. You already did. At least enough to keep me smiling from South Carolina to Virginia.it’s for lovers (orjustfriends) This is why I do it. this, posted what must have been near immediately after swimming naked with his band and crew (namely lead singer brendon urie) must have been brewing in his mind during the events of that night. why would he write a poem about falling in love with his best friend at that specific point in time if it was not directly related to the events of that night (with BRENDON)? what were the “secrets they’re not proud of”? it makes sense that they may not have been proud of giving in to their obvious feelings for one another. in 2009, after the band split, remaining members brendon urie and spencer smith released “new perspective” as a single. brendon claims that the song, containing the line “i feel the salty waves come in//i feel them crash against my skin” had been something he had worked on YEARS prior to it’s release and once introduced it as being about “a dude, naked”. with the ocean imagery and that introduction it makes sense that it would be about that fateful night at myrtle beach, does it not? ryan ross and brendon urie were in love, ryden was real
The gross thing about like stupid real love is that it’s all peaches and gravy until one person just falls out of sync. Like it might not be anyone’s fault and it might be entirely someone’s fault but the worst feeling might be watching someone who used to look at you with stars in their eyes fall out of love right in front of you.
Rick catching Daryl and Jesus in an intimate moment.
They’re just hugging.
But Rick knows Daryl - knows what he’s like with human contact and how, unless emotionally distraught or if he deems it necessary - he avoids it because he’s not a fan of it. Given that he probably spent most of his life with pain being the only physical contact he received he isn’t doesn’t like it most of the time.
But there they are. Arms wrapped tight around each other, Jesus’ head on his shoulder, his face buried in Jesus’ hair. No sounds made, just them clinging to each other. No words spoken, no hushed tones, just the sound of deep, relaxed breathing.
And it makes Rick smile. Because this is a huge step for Daryl. To allow himself to be touched like this. We’ve all seen how quick Daryl is to end hugs - they never last more than a few seconds. But there he is, firmly tucked into an embrace. And Rick can see, just from this one embrace, how important Jesus is to Daryl, in a way that nobody has been before.
Hushed Sounds And Open Doors (An Adlock Fanfiction)
(Apparently, since I’m a shitty writer, here’s more of my shitty writing, lol. In my agreement with @dinnerxx that Sherlock and Irene would probably be more embarrassed to be caught being sweet and ‘sentimental’ rather than someone walking in on them having steamy af sex, this fic sprouted. I also inserted some headcanons here, like Irene baking and other callbacks to past fics. I literally almost slipped in the shower when I thought about this… and I feel like my author’s note at every fic is a little too talkative soooo yeah. Dedicating this to my adopted child @realestofgeek too because she’s had a rough day because of some frickin ANON. Anyway, let’s just get on with it.)
John looked at his watch, wondering where in the world was Sherlock Holmes. He pursed his lips, thinking that the detective might have forgotten the small celebration they planned with Lestrade for Sherlock’s own birthday, but figured that since his best friend was hesitant about the entire situation in the first place, Greg and himself were purposefully ignored.
Still, he figured, since they missed much of Sherlock’s past birthdays, they had to at least make an effort to make the incoming ones worth remembering.
Sighing as he looked at his phone with no reply from Sherlock, he sent a quick text to Lestrade to let him know that plans are still a go, and he would be in 221B to get the detective himself.
Arriving at the flat, he went in to greet Mrs. Hudson.
“Is Sherlock here? He’s been ignoring my messages all day.” John asked.
“You do know it’s his birthday?” Mrs. Hudson quipped back, looking at him questioningly.
“Ah, yes. That’s why I’m here. To get him… Celebrate. Cake and go to the pub.” John explained, confused.
To his surprise, Mrs. Hudson laughed. “Oh, silly! He wouldn’t want to celebrate his birthday with you.”
John’s eyebrows raised, looking for an explanation, but Mrs. Hudson was too amused that she left him by himself at the hall, astounded, saying something about creaking floorboards in between her fits of laughter.
The doctor decided to head up to the flat, surprised that Sherlock was still nowhere to be found in the living room. Seeing that light was coming from his friend’s ajar bedroom, he walked over and was about to call out to him when he heard a familiar voice.
“Don’t you think you should at least tell them you’re not interested in coming?” he heard none other than Irene Adler say, almost making him gasp.
It may be a ridiculous idea, but the doctor decided to sneak a peek at the door’s slight opening, wanting to have visual evidence that it was in fact her.
At that, he was met with an intriguing sight, with Sherlock lying on Irene’s lap, the detective holding The Woman’s hand rather delicately, while she glides her fingers through his hair. It was a scene that looked out-of-place if you know the two parties involved, but judging by their soft expressions, it was something that was already bordering on habit.
John can’t help but be amused. So, this is what Mrs. Hudson was talking about? Moreover, Mrs. Hudson knew about this?
He saw Sherlock roll his eyes, still gently playing with Irene’s fingers. “I already told them once. They should have known better.”
John grinned, shaking his head. This bloody moron, he thought.
He saw his friend’s expression change to somewhat of curious frustration, now examining Irene’s hand unlike the simple caressing he was giving it earlier.
Sherlock looked up to her, eyes full of concern. “What happened to this?”
Irene shushed him. “Nothing. I… It was nothing really.”
The detective eyed her, rubbing her fingers softly. Irene sighed, and John could swear she was flustered. Irene Adler, the dominatrix who almost brought the nation to its knees, is blushing.
“I wanted to bake you a cake, just like the chocolate one you loved when we were in Paris. It didn’t turn out nice, so after a couple of tries, I just gave up on the idea.” she told him, trying to sound nonchalant to mask her embarrassment at the admittance.
John jerked his head to the side, an incredulous expression on his face. Irene Adler baking? Paris? What in the world–? And more so, why is he still here?
He smiled to himself. Probably because he was happy that Sherlock finally took his advice? That his best friend was happy? Oh, how he wish…
How he wish Mary could have seen this. She would’ve been happy for him, too.
He looked up just in time when Sherlock stopped laughing at Irene’s confession, the detective reaching for The Woman to plant a kiss on her forehead. Sherlock then reached for her hand and planted soft kisses on her fingers, and John observed how Irene was looking at his friend with all the affection in the world. Without a doubt, the two have been this familiar for years.
John took one last look, amused and somehow relieved. He forgot all the annoyance he was feeling for having been ignored by Sherlock, figuring that the detective got the gift he wanted for this special day. The doctor can’t help but smile even more.
This was far more different, definitely more real than the display he saw with Janine. And somehow, it felt more sure because it is with the Irene Adler.
He was about to turn away to leave them to their business when he was greeted by Lestrade, the Detective Inspector hovering at the flat’s door and shooting him a questioning glance.
“John, what’s taking so long?” Greg asked, voice loud enough for Sherlock to hear.
The doctor waved his hands extensively, telling Greg to shush, but it was already too late.
“Sherlock, dear, what is it?”
John turned to see Sherlock, followed by Irene, both standing by the door frame, evidently alarmed upon seeing him and Lestrade.
Greg couldn’t hide his own amusement and surprise, eyes immediate boring into Irene Adler.
“Graeme, didn’t you mother tell you it’s rude to gawk.” Sherlock snapped, before turning to John. “How… How long have you been here?”
John gave a nervous laugh. “Not long…. Erm… So… You two…?”
Irene scoffed. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’? Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” the doctor couldn’t hide his amusement.
“Ms. Adler was just visiting… For a case I needed help with.” Sherlock retorted, and Irene gave a proud nod.
“What? In your bedroom?” Lestrade noted, smirking.
“And what case? I wasn’t aware we have a… case?” John added, fighting the urge to laugh at his friend’s flustered expression.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have better things to do?”
John straightened his jacket and turned to Lestrade almost comically. “Well, I guess we’ll just leave you to your business then.”
Lestrade was still smirking, nodding at John. “Yeah, catch you later, Sherlock. Erm… Happy birthday.”
Greg headed out the door first, letting out a laugh as soon as he was out of sight, and John was about to follow him when he remembered Mrs. Hudson’s remark, things finally falling into place.
“By the way, take the brainstorming a notch lower, mate. Mrs. Hudson said something about….creaking floorboards?” he mused with playful pretend nonchalance, making both Irene and Sherlock turn an amazing shade of red.
The doctor took it as his cue to leave them at their celebration.