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#90's rhythm and blues

randomvarious · 1 year

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Today’s compilation:

Spike & Co.: Do It a Cappella 1990 A Cappella / R&B / Soul / Doo Wop / Mbube

Here's a Spike Lee joint that you may have never actually heard of before: a 1990 PBS documentary he directed called Spike & Co.: Do It a Cappella, in which he managed to showcase six of contemporary a cappella music's most popular groups at the time. Today, I listened to its soundtrack.

Now, in general, I have a lot of respect for a cappella music. I think it takes a whole lot of skill and practice to do it well, and the complex harmonies it has a way of yielding can be totally mesmerizing at times. Plus, there's really nothing like implementing an extremely low male vocal to mimic a plucked bass string, a thing that doo wop successfully cultivated decades prior.

But I also don't think I'm alone here when I say that there tends to be an overall air of creepiness to this music too; like, a disconcerting level of over-earnestness that evokes a feeling of near-cultishness. You know those people whose disposition can be just a bit too sunny for you, to the point of it seeming somewhat odd? That's a cappella, to me, in a nutshell. Oftentimes, it's just too positive to be enjoyed.

Take Rockapella and True Image's cover of The Drifters' "Under the Boardwalk," for instance. This is a really dynamic song, and I really love the beatboxing and bass combo that undergirds the whole thing. But it's also a song that's, just, so fucking extremely cloying! It's like the aural equivalent of eating a full gallon of ice cream in one sitting! 😵

However, despite my ridicule of this very well-made music, I do have an actual highlight for you all: The Mint Juleps' cover of Jackie Wilson's timeless Chicago soul classic, "(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher." Now, I don't think that anything will ever actually top Wilson's original version, but I definitely still think that this is an excellent cover of it. And it's probably because the lead vocalist doesn't sound like a sugar stick fully coated in Fun Dip! And her falsetto's great too!

So, maybe my and a lot of other peoples' main issue with a cappella is, ultimately, that it's just way too saccharine for our tastes? Maybe what we really need is something that's a bit more dour? Something...gothy? Gothappella? That's gotta be a thing already, right? Like, a weird group that the Pitch Perfect crew faces off against in an early round? If not, it probably should be. And they'd definitely call themselves Pentagramix, right?

Okay, I'll see myself out now. Bye!

Highlights:

The Mint Juleps - "Higher and Higher"

#a cappella #r&b #r & b #rhythm & blues #rhythm and blues #soul #soul music #doo wop #mbube #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music

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dankalbumart · 1 year

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High on the Hog by The Band Rhino 1996 Country-Rock / Rock & Roll / Roots Rock / Rhythm & Blues / Folk-Rock / Blues-Rock

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rip-quizilla · 11 months

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Eat Me

Pairing: Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Reader

Summary: (TLDR: you perform with Corroded Coffin, act like a brat the whole time, and Eddie makes you pay for it.) Two years after your hiatus from the music industry, you're back and all grown up now. After collaborating with early 2000's metal sensation Corroded Coffin for several songs off your new album, you debut the new tracks live in a surprise performance with the band during their tour- and the tension between you and frontman Eddie Munson is so thick, you're barely able to keep your pants on throughout the set. (Songs referenced are by Demi Lovato from her album HOLY FVCK, which inspired this fic. I highly suggest listening to the songs "Eat Me" and "Freak" while they're performed in the story for the complete experience!)

Word Count: 14K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, age gap (reader is 27, Eddie is 47), Reader is a brat (Eddie can handle it), fingering, squirting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap up!!), light degradation, reader has blue hair, reader is a grown-up child star, for the purposes of this fic Corroded Coffin started in the 90s instead of 80s for timeline reasons

🖤🖤🖤

You had no fucking clue what you were doing.

It had been two years since you’d put out music. Two. Years. That’s enough time for a person’s relevance to crawl into a hole and die, which is something you had been strongly considering doing for the duration of those two years.

It was a tale as old as time- child star grows up. Child star is not a child anymore, but the world only wants the star to be a child, so if the star wants to keep being a star, they do not. grow. up.

But you grew up, and guess what happened?

The world hated you for it.

So you stopped trying to be a star. You’d dropped off the face of the earth and deleted every social media app from your phone. You’d bought a house in the mountains, and thanks to modern technologies like Amazon and DoorDash, you basically never had to leave. It was a little scary how easily you had become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. Your life quickly became a never ending cycle of reading, binge-watching tv, and dying/cutting your hair whenever the mood struck (The latest spontaneous color change had left you with a surprisingly pretty shade of faded blue).

It was easy, running away… until it caught up with you.

After all, at your core you had always been a performer. From your first audition at five years old to your big break at twelve, to the first album you’d put out on your television network’s record label- you had always been a person who had something to say and craved an audience to hear it. When your audience had turned on you, it had jolted your rhythm enough that you forgot the words to a song you’d been singing as long as you could remember.

It had taken you a couple years, but eventually you figured out that when you play the same song on repeat for long enough, it gets old.

So you wrote a new song.

To be more precise, you wrote a whole album. Literally.

Some of the songs were composed, some still needed a tune, but the message of the album was clear: I’m not that little girl on your TV screen anymore. You don’t have to like it, but you sure as hell can’t change it.

The minute you’d figured that out, you’d called your team. Once they understood the direction your career was headed, they helped get everything in order for your re-entry into the fray that had driven you out in the first place.

There was only one part of the album that made you nervous.

I know two years doesn’t seem like that long, your agent had said, but the public eye doesn’t have a very impressive attention span. You only have half of the album composed, right? This is the perfect opportunity to make the other half of the songs collaborations with artists that are in the public eye!

The idea made sense. Their popularity helps you, and if the songs go over well, then it helps the other artists too. The only issue was that these songs were way more vulnerable than what you used to write… hell, half the songs you’d recorded before your hiatus were written by whatever run of the mill joe schmo had gotten the kid-friendly execs’ stamp of approval. Even when you’d split from the network after turning twenty-three, you’d kept your songs strictly PG-rated since you knew the majority of your audience were minors. These new songs, though…

You weren’t an idiot. The themes of these songs were not subtle. Anyone who listened to these new songs was going to see a side of you that wasn’t all that pretty. Were you ready for that? Were you ready to bare that darkness to not only the world, but to other artists who meant to help you make music out of it?

Your anxiety about the album had gotten even worse when your agent had given you the list of potential collaborators.

One song that you were particularly proud of called “Eat Me” had some very metal undertones to it, so you’d told your agent that you’d like to collaborate with a metal band or artist to compose the music that would match the lyrics. Almost immediately, your agent had suggested a collaboration with Corroded Coffin.

The band had been HUGE when you were a kid, topping charts throughout your childhood and making a name for themselves as one of the most culturally relevant turn-of-the-century metal bands. Even now, they were a household name. Your older brother had been a huge fan, so you’d actually listened to their music quite a lot growing up. They weren’t some random collaboration- if Corroded Coffin read your lyrics (which were basically your soul laid out on display) and thought they were shit? It might just send you spiraling right back to your cabin in the mountains.

You had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when your agent told you they’d agreed to collaborate on the song.

Currently, you were sitting in your home-away-from-home, a cozy apartment that you rented on a month-to-month basis whenever you needed to be in New York, which just so happened to be where Eddie Munson, lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin had asked to meet with you. It was your album, so you had invited him to come to your place and discuss his ideas for the song. You shifted nervously on your couch and glanced at the time on your phone. He was ten minutes late- that shouldn’t bother you, a lot of musicians had a habit of running late. Just because you didn’t subscribe to that stereotype didn’t mean you had to judge him for doing the opposite.

When you finally heard the buzz of your doorbell, you practically hopped off the couch. You peeped through the little door viewer to catch a glimpse before you had to look one of your childhood heroes in the eye. You… you hadn’t been adequately prepared to see this.

Eddie Munson had been attractive in his hay day- you could admit that. You’d seen the pictures of him on their album covers, the press photos, the magazines… he had always been cute in a scruffy sort of way. You hadn’t bothered Googling what he looked like now, which you were currently regretting since you had not been adequately prepared for the father of all DILFs to be standing on your doorstep.

After doing some quick math, you came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson must be in his mid to late forties at this point. His hair was still long and curly and thick as hell, but you noticed other details that you distinctly remembered were not present on the album covers you remember from your brother’s CD collection- dark, whiskery shadow along his cheeks and jawline. Tattoos creeping up from the collar of the crew neck shirt he wore, as well as every inch of his arms. A nose ring. Smile lines. Soft creases forming between thick brown eyebrows.

Eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you weren’t opening the door.

Shit. You inhaled sharply and hastily made to open the door. Breathe, you instructed yourself, taking a moment to blow out a semi-relaxing breath before turning the doorknob and plastering on your best entertainment industry smile.

“Hi!” you said, a little too peppy- you knew you sounded too peppy because the rockstar in front of you actually flinched when your high-pitched sorority girl voice slapped him in the face. “Sorry, I think I’m a little caffeine-riddled, I just finished my third cup of coffee.” You said apologetically, swinging the door open wider for him to step through the threshold into your apartment.

“Too many frappuccinos there, huh popstar?” His voice… if it hadn’t been so condescending, you might have melted on the spot. Your pride, however, had to argue with your clenching thighs.

“Uhm, no-” you laughed, keeping your voice airy as you shut the door and leaned back on it to ensure it was closed. “-just cold brew, rockstar.” You couldn’t help but add that quip at the end, seeing how he had just called you popstar like it was the same as calling someone a pussy or a wimp. What was his deal?

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, and then turned back as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He simply sauntered through the hallway to your living room, where you had laid all the necessary materials for your composing process across the coffee table- but he wasn’t looking at that. He seemed to be inspecting your walls, the decor, the old pictures that sat in frames on your floating shelves, the records you had displayed above your turntable. His eyes surveyed everything like he was a judge at a fucking science fair, and your heart was starting to race as you started to irrationally wonder if you fell short of his expectations or something.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get his attention.

He turned to face you, irritation flashing across his expression like a cloud blowing past the sun. You took a breath. Calm down, you chided yourself mentally, he’s probably just a prick, don’t take it personally. Be professional.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You chirped politely, to which he smirked and shook his head.

“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.”

You bristled; sweetheart? Who did he think he was, Don Draper? Was this the 1950’s? Were you his fucking secretary? Your blood pressure rose by the second.

“Hm.” you respond, chewing your lip to keep a snarky response to yourself. “Well, we can go ahead and get started if you want.” You gestured to the pages strewn across the coffee table. Notebook pages with your lyrics written out in black pen, empty pages of sheet music that you planned to fill out with a melody to coincide with your words as the morning went on. Your acoustic guitar sat securely in its stand beside the couch, eagerly awaiting your hands to make the message in your music come alive.

Munson sunk into the cushions of your leather couch, manspreading enough to make you feel like a guest in your own apartment. His forearms rested on the thighs of his ripped charcoal jeans as he surveyed the pages before him. He grabbed the notebook page full of lyrics first, chuckling when he saw the title.

“Eat Me, huh?” he raised an eyebrow at you, and the way he was holding the page between the two of you left only the top half of his face visible from where you sat. You noted that Eddie Munson had extremely expressive eyes. “That’s a pretty evocative title for such a squeaky-clean ‘lil diva.”

Your brow furrowed. “That’s kind of the point.” Using your pointer finger to pull the page down, the bottom half of the rockstar’s face coming into view and spiking your blood pressure again when you saw that fucking smirk still on his face.

That’s it. This guy is an ass.

“Maybe my agent didn’t accurately portray my vision for this album,” you said, struggling to grit out the words without coming across angry. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry we got our wires crossed.”

Ready to listen, Munson leaned back into your couch and crossed one booted foot over his knee, an arm thrown across the top of your couch cushions. The picture of nonchalance.

Cocky bastard.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t put any music out in over two years.” you began. “This isn’t just a new album for me- it's more like a debut album for the new direction I want to take my career in. Up until now, I’ve been portraying a very different side of myself that…if I’m being honest, it wasn’t really me. It was childish and immature and I…”

You huffed out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep being a kid, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old, for god’s sake.” the rockstar’s eyebrows jumped up at hearing your expletive, obviously amused.

What the fuck? Here you were, being vulnerable with a complete stranger, and he thought it was amusing? You half expected him to laugh, but you brushed past it and decided to ignore this asshole being even more of an asshole.

“What I’m trying to say is this is a very personal album for me. It’s very different from what I’ve been putting out, and that is very much the point. Does that make sense?”

You watched as he slowly nodded his head, mulling over your words. “So…it’s like a coming of age thing?” he ventured, “Like, ‘little girl’s all grown up and sexy now’ all that?” his mouth turned up at one corner. “How very Miley Cyrus of you, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, physically recoiling a bit. “Are you being serious right now?” you balked.

He shrugged.

Oh, you fumed, that is it. Fuck this guy.

You stood from the couch, finally snapping after holding yourself back from giving this asshat a piece of your mind. “What is your problem?” Munson’s smirk faded a bit, but his smug air remained intact as he stared up at you.

“Look sweetheart-”

“No.” you cut him off, stopping him with a hand in the air. “Stop calling me sweetheart like you know me or like that isn’t a condescending fucking way to speak to someone. You have done nothing but talk down to me since you walked through that door, so no, you do not get to talk to me like that, I don’t care how famous you are.”

There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face now, and you took pride in that. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere that was telling him I told you so right now.

You took the page from his hands and held it up for emphasis. “If you had just read my fucking song before making assumptions, then maybe you would have understood that this song is actually a social commentary on people like you who assume the direct trajectory of a child star’s career is to go from cute and childish to sexy ‘girls gone wild’ or whatever the fuck.” you spat, practically shaking the paper in your hand. “I’m allowed to grow into whoever I damn well please, and that’s exactly what this song is about. If I want to write a song about sex- and I’ve written a few, they’re on the fucking album- I’ll write them because that’s what I want to write! I’m not doing it for shock value or because I like attention; hell, I’ve been a literal hermit in the woods for two years, I don’t give a fuck about attention!”

You finally paused to breathe, and you knew your eyes must look absolutely insane because the man before you genuinely looked terrified.

Steeling yourself, you inhaled and exhaled slowly, attempting to push down some of that hysteria. “Sorry.” you bit, “Didn’t mean to unload all that on you. It’s just… this song is a part of me, and you just belittled it without even reading past the title.” You looked him directly in those big brown eyes and thought- hoped- for a second that you saw understanding in his gaze. “That was shitty. I’m not letting other people make me feel like shit anymore.”

When you were finished, silence took over. It settled over the room like a reprieve from a short but heavy rainfall before the sun showed itself again. Suddenly, Eddie Munson stood from your couch and marched to your door, letting himself out with a sharp click of your doorknob latching closed.

Okay. That went well. The lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands just came to your apartment, got yelled at, and ran away. You were just starting to ponder how you would explain this one to your publicist before you heard a knock at your door. Tentatively, you opened it- you didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was.

Eddie Munson stood at your door wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen yet today- he looked open, compassionate, and sorry. One hand in his pocket with the other outstretched, tattoos winding up the expanse of skin, rings glinting light from the sconces on either side of your door. He was offering his hand.

Smiling slightly, you accepted his gesture. You grasped his ink-scarred hand, feeling the cold metal of his rings press against your skin as you shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you-” he said your name softly, and you realized that when he had entered your apartment earlier, you hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries. Hadn’t introduced yourselves, almost as if fame got rid of the need for normal human introductions. Now, here he was, remedying that.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” you said, voice less chipper than it had been when the two of you originally stood in these same spots. “I’m a huge fan.”

He winced at ‘Mr.’, clapping his other hand over yours tightly. “Please, for the love of god, don’t call me Mr. Munson.” his big brown eyes pleaded with you. “Call me Eddie.”

Your smile widened as you nodded. “Eddie.” you repeated. “Is this you telling me we’re starting over?”

He let go of your hand, and you felt a sudden chill as the warmth of his skin left yours. “If that’s alright with you?” he replied softly, turning up the end of his sentence like a question.

Instead of saying yes, you simply stepped back to make room for him in your hallway. With a pleasant grin on your lips, you gestured for him to step inside. “Let’s get started, then.”

After sitting down on the couch once more, Eddie took the sheet of notebook paper on which you’d scrawled a part of your soul written in verse and began to read intently. Leaving him to digest the song completely (also because you felt awkward sitting there in silence as he read your work) you left to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. When you returned, he had already grabbed a fresh sheet of notebook paper and begun jotting down notes.

You placed the bottles on coasters, bracing yourself for the criticism that you knew was coming-

��You were right.”

Huh?

You craned your neck to see what he had written on the notebook paper. “About what?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Eddie yanked the paper out of your line of sight. “About this song, it’s completely different from what I’d assumed you would write. Actually,” he grinned. “-it’s kinda fucking metal.”

You smiled, once again reaching for the page. “Then let me see what you wrote-”

“I’m not finished yet, keep your panties on.”

The two of you worked for hours that afternoon, Eddie suggesting lines and chords as you wrote corresponding notes and chords on your sheet music. It didn’t take long for you to grab the acoustic guitar and begin strumming out portions of the song until it was finished.

Both of you agreed it was something to be proud of.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie stuttered before exiting your apartment that evening, when you were both happy with the work you’d done for the day. “I hope you know how sorry I am for being such an ass when I got here earlier-”

You shrugged, any traces of anger melted away at this point. “Eh.” you smirked. “You made up for it. That song might be my favorite on the album now, honestly, I meant it when I said I was a fan of yours- wouldn’t have trusted it with anyone else.”

He smiled at you warmly. “I’m honored to have such a talented fan.” The door was open, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Instead, Eddie stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest leaning his weight to one shoulder against the doorway. “I mean it though, you’re a talented songwriter. If you want to collaborate on any other songs, just say the word and I’m back here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, “Dead serious.”

Smiling excitedly, you ran to your notebook, flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for. You looked up at Eddie, a knowing grin on your lips. “Remember those songs about sex I mentioned?”

***

The original plan for your album had been to collaborate with multiple artists for about fifty percent of your album, while the other fifty percent would only feature you. What ended up happening was slightly different.

The more songs Eddie saw, the more passionate he became about the message you were working to convey through your lyrics. He ended up reworking every single song with you in a completely collaborative process, where he never overstepped, never tried to take over- simply understood what you were trying to say and added the extra ‘oomph’ each song had been needing to truly become what you had envisioned.

“I feel like I really can’t just call this my album now, Eddie, you’ve contributed way more to this to just be credited as a featured artist-”

You’d first voiced concerns about how to credit Eddie in the album a few days into your songwriting spree. It became an easy routine, Eddie would come over first thing in the morning, and the two of you would sit in your living room working through your songs and ordering takeout until the sun set.

“Well it’s not a collaboration album with Corroded Coffin,” Eddie had replied, sticking a bite of noodles into his mouth. The two of you had been seated at your kitchen table, white boxes of Chinese food, napkins, and torn chopstick wrappers decorating the space between you. “Those fuckers haven’t even met you, they don’t get credit for anything they ain’t playing on.”

“But I’m talking about you.” you pushed, “If we keep going the way we’ve been, you’re going to be a vital part of the composition for every track on this album! I’m not going to let you avoid credit for that.” you gazed at him, unable to hide the admiration you’d begun to feel for the artist at your table. “Let me list you as a composer for every track you help me with. We already know you and your band will be featured on Eat Me and Freak, so obviously you’ll be credited for those…”

As you continued to ramble on about how Eddie would be credited for each and every song lyric he suggested, he got distracted looking at the way your hair glinted slightly different shades of blue in the sunlight that filtered in through your balcony window. His eyes followed the light along your skin, taking in the way it glistened off the dewey shine on your cheekbone, how it shone directly into the corner of your eye so that colors he had never noticed were brought to the surface of your irises…

This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had gotten distracted watching you rant about something you were passionate about. He knew he was supposed to be listening, that it was very important that he knew what your songs were about, that he understood the details of your plans for the album so that you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself later- but dammit, you were just so pretty. Really fucking pretty, it was hard for him not to get distracted. Initially, this whole collaboration had just been something that Eddie’s publicist had suggested for getting the newer generation listening to Corroded Coffin in time for their new album to drop at the end of the summerl, so when Eddie had first waltzed into your apartment he’d been expecting a kid; an innocent, teeny-bopper sort of persona. He hadn’t expected a loud, firecracker of a woman with hair the color of his old denim jacket.

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He was well aware that he was old enough to be your father. You were what- twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Definitely under thirty. And here he was, pushing forty-seven with a salt and pepper shadow on his jawline. The hair on his head hadn’t started graying yet (he dreaded the day that he would have to use *gulp* hair dye) but he knew it was only a matter of time. For him to be ogling you like this? It would probably make you uncomfortable if you knew how often his eyes forgot to look away when you left the room. What was that old saying? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave-

“Eddie?”

Shit. He’d missed an entire conversation, hadn’t he?

He gave you his best apologetic smile, which didn’t work at all. You sighed, hanging your head low exasperatedly. “You didn’t hear a word of that did you?”

“Not a word, zoned out.”

You threw a fortune cookie at him.

***

You and Eddie didn’t see each other for a while after recording the album. Eddie was there with the rest of Corroded Coffin to record the two tracks that they were featured in for the album, but after that plus a few guitar parts Eddie had been kind enough to record for some other songs, the two of you hadn’t had a reason to see each other.

That was why you were so nervous for tonight.

After working all summer and the better part of the fall, the album was finally finished. Copies of CDs and special edition vinyl were already being shipped out to music stores across the country and set to hit shelves in a week, so tonight was the kickoff event for your publicity tour: you would be joining Corroded Coffin tonight onstage for a surprise performance of Eat Me and Freak. Tonight was October 31st, and premiering those songs on Halloween with the metal king that helped you make them the masterpieces they were? This was just one of those moments when the stars aligned poetically.

You looked yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before heading to sound check. It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Eddie, but that wouldn’t matter, right? You’d spent a whole week workshopping incredibly personal- in some cases, intimately personal- songs with the guy, so singing onstage with him shouldn’t be a big deal. You were a professional, so it didn’t matter that you hadn’t performed in over two years, you could do this. Never mind the fact that this was the first performance of the rest of your career; never mind that sometimes the way Eddie looked at you make you feel like your knees were about to buckle; never mind that Eddie Munson, rock god and sex symbol of the metal world, was going to be within touching distance the moment you set foot on that stage…

A knock at the door of your tiny dressing room startled you, along with a voice letting you know that sound check was about to begin. Decisively, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the stage before you could psych yourself out any more.

When you got to the stage, Eddie was the first person you laid eyes on. He smiled at you, dark curls flying around his face and forming a sinful-looking halo around his face as he gave you a friendly nod- god, he was gorgeous. Waving back at him, you returned the nod and grinned. You wouldn’t be going on until the end of their set, so you situated yourself on an empty stool backstage with a view of the band.

Their practice was fascinating to watch, how all four of the band members were so obviously masters of their craft, each ear trained to notice any imperfection in the way their instruments sounded through the stereos. Every once in a while, Eddie would look your way out the corner of his eye, just to check if you were still watching; you always were. Whenever he saw you looking directly at him, never glancing down at your phone or at the other band members (besides the odd look thrown in Gareth Emerson’s direction; the way his curls bounced was honestly hypnotic), he’d hold your eye contact, smirk into the microphone, and continue to belt out the lyrics to his songs with a smidge more cockiness than he had been prior.

When the time finally came for you to join them, you took a deep breath and strutted to where Eddie stood in the center of the stage. No one had handed you a mic, so you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand until Eddie moved aside to make room for you at his mic stand.

You looked questioningly at Eddie. “You don’t need your mic?”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back as he put his lips to your ear. You figured he was just trying to avoid the mic picking up his voice, but the hand on your back… that was new. Was this a move? Was Eddie Munson making a move? On you?

Oh.

That’s a fun development.

“This one’s all you, darlin’.” Eddie said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ll stay out of your way. Also-” He pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, and your lips must have been a little too close to the mic because it picked up your fucking gasp. You jerked your head away from the mic, cursing yourself for being so nervous.

Eddie definitely noticed, but all he did was chuckle, still staring at you with giant doe eyes framed by smile lines and bushy brown eyebrows. “-it’s good to see you, popstar.” There was no condescension in his tone this time; all you could find in his gaze was kind, genuine joy that you were here, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Confidently, you gripped the mic with both hands, smirking at Eddie through your side eye. You didn’t bother leaning away from the mic when you replied, sprinkling sultry into your voice. If Eddie Munson was trying to drop a hint, you wanted him to know you were receiving it.

“It’s good to see you too, rockstar.”

***

Mic check went flawlessly, which meant it was time for you and the band to eat in the green room while fans began lining up outside the venue, waiting for the doors to open.

You had a couple drinks with the band while biding your time before you had to get dressed for the show. Much to your delight, Eddie never left your side the whole time. You had been close to him in your living room day after day when you’d worked on your songs, but this was different; you kept noticing little glances and touches that spoke louder than words- how his hands lingered longer than expected, never missing a chance to touch your arm or place a hand on your back to guide you as you walked. How his eyes were most focused whenever he was looking at you, and he never seemed to give you passing glances- every look he gave you was intense and purposeful, it made you shiver in a very good way. When he and the band left to get ready for showtime, he took a moment to check on how you were before leaving to go to his dressing room.

“You nervous?” he asked. There wasn’t any judgment there, just concern for you.

“Yes,” you admitted, “But I think I’ve got it.”

Eddie smiled widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. “Oh I know you’ve got it, angel.”

You caught his wrist, holding it to your shoulder before he could retract it. Turning to him, you batted your eyes a bit before raising an eyebrow. “Angel, huh?”

Eddie inclined his head, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “What, should I switch back to sweetheart?”

You smirked. “Only if you wanna make me mad.”

It took everything in you not to shrink back from him as he leaned forward, practically glowering over you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must have decided against it. You saw his tongue poke into the inside of his cheek as he nodded to himself, eyes narrowing further as if he were having a whole conversation within his head that you weren’t privy to. Finally, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you let him go, staring at him with every ounce of confidence you could muster.

“...I’ll remember that, popstar.” he said, voice low and gravelly and sure to throw you into a coma if he said the right words with that voice at the right time. You didn’t let him see how much he was affecting you, though- save for a little grin that you couldn’t hide as he smirked at you and walked away.

When he exited the green room- and you were sure you were alone- you finally let out a breath that you’d been holding for what seemed like entire minutes. You grabbed your drink, chugging down the rest of your liquid courage in the hopes that it might also cool you down a bit.

***

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and the gravity of what was about to happen was starting to get to you.

Corroded Coffin was about to start the song that would be your cue to join them. You stood in the wings like you had during sound check, this time fussing over your outfit to ensure every piece was in place. The fact that it was Halloween combined with the tone of your new album had influenced your wardrobe choice for the evening- ripped black jeans that were more rip than jean, a strappy black bustier top with a plethora of silver buckles that decorating the surface of your bodice where the sides attached at your sternum, fishnet fingerless gloves, and your favorite part of the outfit: the biggest platform boots you’d ever owned. You remembered seeing them and falling in love immediately with the straps that decorated the entirety of the shoe, as well as the silver buckles on each strap that matched your top like a dream. Paired with your blue hair, you looked strikingly goth and nearly unrecognizable from the girl your fans remembered.

When Eddie announced you onstage, you had to take a deep breath before joining him out there. Slow inhale, slow exhale… and then you were overtaken with hot stage lights.

Out on the stage, you could really take in the size of this crowd- it was far larger than what you were used to, and when they realized who you were, they went wild. You couldn’t help but be intimidated until you felt Eddie’s hand gently grounding you as it ghosted the skin on your back.

His lips tickled your ear as he leaned in and whispered in your ear out of range from the mic, “Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.”

You felt a flare of indignation intertwined with delight, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little evilly into the mic at this little shit of a rockstar.

He did that on purpose.

You looked at him with the biggest smirk on your face, and it matched the smug, sultry grin on his. Silently, he nodded at the audience as if to say ‘Well? They’re waiting.’

You looked over your shoulder at Jeff on the bass, nodded, and right on cue as Jeff began the first note of the song, the entire stage was flooded with scarlet light.

***

Eddie could tell you were nervous. Flirting with you probably wasn’t helping, and for all he knew, he might even be making you uncomfortable.

However…

Over the years, Eddie’s gotten more perceptive when it came to the subtleties of body language. He didn’t miss the fact that you’d been leaning into every touch he ghosted over your skin, no matter how overt or fleeting those touches might have been. He’d seen the change in your eye contact when it lingered a little longer than necessary- that shift from attentive to intrigued, even a little wanting at times.

The only question was what you wanted, and Eddie was really hoping it was him.

As he watched you take his place at the mic, standing monochrome in scarlet light, he bit his lip as he tried to hold back the salacious grin that slid across his lips; he was unsuccessful.

Eddie hit his guitar part easily as you purred the lyrics that the two of you had slaved over into your microphone.

Be more predictable

Be less political

Not too original

Keep to tradition, but stay individual

Thrusting ever so slightly with his warlock, Eddie channeled the rage and rebellion of your lyrics into every word, smirking with the next few lines- they had been one of the first additions to the song that he’d made, and you more than did them justice.

Dirty but washable

Winning but stoppable

All that I’m hearing is

You wanna make the impossible possible

Even though you’d been nervous earlier, it looked like you’d been able to shake it all off. Confidence was rolling off you like waves, strength in your comfort onstage practically seeping out of your pores. Eddie felt proud, yes, but mostly? He was turned the fuck on by it. His eyes never left you as you carefully removed the mic from its stand and leisurely strode to the edge of the stage as you sang the next lines, punctuating the last with a little shake of your head and a comically disgusted wrinkle of your nose.

Is this what you’d all prefer?

Would you like me better if I was still her?

Did she make your mouths water?

Ugh.

Just like you’d practiced, flashing white lights littered the stage right on cue when the drums opened up the chorus, and you belted those lyrics with all the anger and exasperation that he knew you’d felt when you’d written them. You were a force to be reckoned with- this was that girl he’d met when he’d walked into your apartment acting like a jackass; this was the firecracker of a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought.

I know the part I’ve played before

I know the shit that I’ve ignored

I know the girl that you adored

She’s dead, it’s time to fucking mourn

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

Dinner’s served, it’s on the floor

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

You dropped to a crouch, for the end of the chorus, legs bent but spread slightly, and flashing lights glinted off the metal buckles of your platform boots. Your voice ripped from your chest as you belted into the mic.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

Eddie was incredibly grateful for the crouch you’d dropped into, because it gave him a view of your ass that was so perfect, he actually groaned. Swooned, practically. Thank god you had his mic and the music was loud enough that no one noticed. He hoped. However, anyone with eyes could probably see that he was basically undressing you with his gaze right now, so he really needed to get it together unless he wanted to be on a front page tomorrow for the wrong reasons. He cringed, imagining the headline Munson Ogles Popstar Half His Age. Mid-Life Crisis? Yeah. His publicist would love that one.

You stood back up, stalking the edge of the stage as you sang the second verse. When you were about halfway through, you turned to look over your shoulder at Eddie, and it just about knocked the breath from his lungs. Your eyes- lined in black and zeroing in on him like something out of his metalhead fantasies- smoldered like embers on the edge of a cigarette as you sang the second half of the verse to him.

Longer hair and tighter clothes

Would you like me better if I didn’t oppose?

Silver platters, pretty bows…

You were at his side now, turned sideways from the crowd so you were facing him as he turned to face you in tandem. About a foot away from each other, the only thing between you was his guitar, thankfully big enough to hide the way his hard-on was quickly growing harder with every moment you looked at him with those eyes.

Your expression shifted, eyes rolling as you threw your head back in mock boredom, amping the lines up to the extreme. As you lifted your head back up, you looked at him with the brattiest fucking face Eddie had ever seen as you delivered the final line of the verse into the mic.

…Fuck.

And then you smirked, tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips and you winked at him.

Fucking. Winked.

Ohhhhhh, you were doing this on purpose. You had to be.

And Eddie couldn’t do shit about it, because you were in the middle of a performance, on stage, jumping around in platform boots and screaming the chorus into your mic like fucking banshee. So he channeled every ounce of sexual frustration into shredding the fuck out of his guitar and staring you down, salivating at the way you blazed on that stage like a witch at the stake. Then, about halfway through that chorus, at the edge of the stage and working the crowd for all they could give you, Eddie just about had a heart attack.

Because you dropped to your fucking knees.

You let the music take control of you, screaming ‘I can’t spoon-feed you anymore’ into the mic, you dropped down to one knee followed by the other as you delivered the final lines before Eddie’s solo.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

You held your last note long and loud, widening your knees and leaning into a backbend that didn’t stop until your upper back touched the stage behind you. Eddie was amazed that he was even able to remember his part when you were in front of him doing that. Jesus Christ.

Eddie continued to play, and he saw you crane your neck just in time to make eye contact with him as you delivered the next line of the song. You brought the mic to your lips, your knees still spread open and your spine deliciously arched.

Choke on it!

God…you were gonna kill him.

You pushed yourself back into a kneeling position, facing the audience. As Eddie’s guitar solo became more complex, and his playing more impressive, your jaw dropped as you looked to the audience and fanned yourself, as if you were all sharing a joint reaction of ‘wow, are you guys hearing this too?!’. Eyes crinkling from your smile, you brought the mic to your mouth again.

Choke on it!

Once you were back on your feet, you stood at ease in the center of the stage as you waited out Eddie’s solo. When he finished, you stared down the crowd as you delivered the last chorus. At this point, Eddie could see some of the spectators mouthing the words along with you, and his chest swelled with pride at your ability to win over a crowd that hadn’t even been expecting you on stage. Hell, knowing his fans, most of them were probably older than you by several years, and yet here they were singing your song.

When you drew your first breath after the final note, the crowd went wild. He expected you to be staring at them, soaking up the energy of a satisfied throng of fans, but no- immediately, your eyes were on him, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across your face. You had just absolutely killed your first song performed in two years, and you wanted to share your joy with him before you shared it with anyone else.

Eddie couldn’t help but mirror your smile- it was the least he could do, after the way you just made his heart swell to triple its usual size. He took a few steps over to where Jeff stood with his bass, nodding to the mic in a silent question, to which Jeff gladly stepped aside.

“If this is what happens when you take a two-year hiatus,” Eddie said slyly into the mic, “then maybe you should do it more often, rockstar.”

The crowd cheered again, and you looked caught off guard by his calling you rockstar instead of popstar. To Eddie, it made perfect sense- tonight, there was nothing pop about you. You were rock & roll incarnate, his equal in every single way. You took a few steps back until you and he were the same distance from the edge of the stage, and as long as he was speaking, your eyes never left him.

“So I’ve been working with this absolute badass on an album- well no, I’m giving myself way too much credit, she wrote an album, I plucked a few guitar strings, yada yada yada-” You giggled as Eddie reminded the crowd of your name, loud and clear, so they knew who to look up on Spotify later. “-anyway, her album drops in a week, that last song you heard was called…”

Eddie looked at you with expectant eyes and a devilish smile. He wanted to hear you say it. Just for fun. He enjoyed being a little shit.

You smirked into your mic. “Eat Me.”

The crowd cheered again, all it took was hearing you say two little words. Eddie knew the feeling.

“We’ve got one more before our lovely guest has to leave the stage, and this one is my personal favorite off the album.” Eddie started warming up with a couple chords from the song before adding, “This is Freak.”

You had replaced the mic into its stand at center stage, which was where Eddie headed to meet you. During sound check, you had asked him if he would need his own mic for this one, but Eddie- selfishly- had said it was no problem, and he didn’t mind sharing. That was a drastic understatement though, since he would happily leap at any excuse to have his lips close to yours in any capacity at all.

You smiled at him, and you were doing that thing again- that thing where you looked at him like you were giving him a dare. That thing where you touched the tip of your tongue to your upper lip.

Eddie wanted to bite that lip.

Instead, he smoldered down at you as he began the opening chords to Freak.

***

You may not have been sure about Eddie’s feelings before tonight, but you were now.

He wanted you. Bad. So bad, you felt high off the lust that was rolling off the man beside you.

You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted to do so many things to you here and now, but due to the giant crowd before you that wasn’t an option. The power trip of knowing that every move you made was driving him crazy and he couldn’t do shit about it made you feel bratty as fuck, and you channeled every ounce of that into each word of your next song.

Pinch me, singe me, inch me to the edge

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sultry lyrics take over, arms bending as you brought them up to dance above your head as you stretched your neck back. Your pose mimicked the way you might have stretched across a bed, arching your back slightly in a way that you knew would make Eddie’s mind wander to all the right places.

Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven-sent

As the tempo picked up for the bridge, your lips brushed the mic and you bounced slightly to the beat. Looking up at Eddie, you felt your chest tighten when you saw how blown his pupils were as they zeroed in on you. There was nothing silly or flirty in his gaze now- this was lust, want, need… it was predatory in a way that made you shiver.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freak go crazy.

Eddie’s guitar launched into the chorus with you, both of your mouths breaking your little standoff by smiling because you couldn’t help yourselves- performing together, this close, singing lyrics that the two of you connected with- you were having so much fun.

Am what I am and what I am is a piece of meat

Take a bite just to watch me bleed

Freak

Say what you want and what you want is behind your teeth

Ain’t gotta spell it out for me

Freak

Now Eddie’s lips were the ones on the mic, his throaty voice tearing through the air in a way that made you stop short from its power alone. He sang the first two lines on his own-

Bait me, you can cage me

Even plate me, I don’t care

You joined him for the bridge on one side of the mic while his mouth remained in place at the other, and his voice dropped down to his chest to create a sound that was more growl than song. He sounded demonic, feral- damn, you wanted to jump his bones right now.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freaks go crazy

As you both sang the chorus together this time, your eye contact across the microphone was charged with feelings reflected as though you were looking in a mirror. Anticipation for what would happen after this show was building with every lyric, and as he growled his lines into the mic you wondered what the headline would be if you stuck your tongue down his throat right now.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how you wanted to start this next leg of your career- at least publicly. Different time, different place. Like, say, in about thirty minutes. In your dressing room. Against a wall, preferably.

When you finished the chorus, Eddie shredded through his guitar solo like a bat out of hell, even improvised a scream into the mic that made your jaw drop yet again. Upon hearing it, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh, hopping up and down in your platform boots and headbanging along with him. After he’d finished, you took hold of the mic stand with both hands and began chanting repeating lines that would take you through to the next chorus before ending the song.

Came from the trauma, stayed for the drama

You sang the line twice before Eddie joined you for the third and fourth repetition, that deep, ripping croon tearing its way through his throat and out of his plush pink lips less than an inch from yours. You wanted to turn your head and look at him so badly, but you were so close that you’d be locking lips if you did.

As you both sang the final chorus, you pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet; you were rewarded with lust blown umber eyes, sweat-soaked curls framing a face as timeless as music itself, and a grin that sparked pure joy in your very soul.

If this guy can fuck, you might just fall for him.

Eddie prompted the audience to cheer for you one more time after the song was over, shooting you a smile as he brought you in for a friendly hug. He was in front of thousands; you knew his hands would remain in strictly G-rated areas (unfortunately), but he did whisper in your ear out of range from the mic.

“Wait for me in your dressing room.”

Bingo.

You thought about following his lead- waiting patiently in your dressing room for him to finish up his show then have his way with you- but you had a better idea. You tilted your head up quickly to bring your lips up to his ear, your clear lip gloss catching its shell.

“I’m gonna keep watching you in the wings- you can do whatever you want after that.”

Your eyes met as you pulled away, and you let yourself revel for a moment at the way he looked at you- like he wanted to, well…eat you. Eyes so dark they were almost black under the stage lights, he shook his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline from driving him crazy when he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it; you were beginning to think you might be addicted.

As Corroded Coffin finished their set, you stayed offstage and did exactly what you said you would- you watched Eddie every second. You were like a sponge soaking up every flip of his hair, every deft movement of his fingers as they flew across the frets of his guitar. Every once in a while, his eyes would flick to where you stood, checking to see if you were still there, which of course you were. Each time he saw you, you watched as he shook his head again, or rolled his eyes, or- in one case which almost resulted in you melting into a puddle on the floor- maintaining eye contact as he belted out lyrics to songs he wrote, with a gaze so smoldering it felt as if there were no one in the whole arena but the two of you. With every minute, every note, every song- you felt him spinning a web around you like a spider trapping its prey, and you willingly anticipated the moment he would finally storm off the stage and drink you dry.

And that’s exactly what he did.

The last song ended, and Eddie wasted no time in ripping his guitar from his torso, handing it to a roadie without a second glance and grabbing you by the hand. You didn’t protest as he pulled you into a corner backstage away from any prying eyes. Before you could think a coherent thought besides Wow, I’m wet, Eddie took both your wrists in his strong, ring-dappled hands and slammed them above your head against the wall. His eyes, black with lust and wolfishly hungry, bored into yours as he used the last ounce of restraint to hold himself back long enough to ask the vital question, “Tell me, you want this?”

He bit the words out; growled them into your face as your eyes widened, desire painting your expression a gorgeous shade of pathetic as you nodded desperately. A deep groan sounded from his chest as Eddie pressed his pelvis against yours, and you gasped at how hard he was. “Words, sweetheart, I need you to say it.”

That familiar flare of indignation in your chest mingled with the flames in your core that burned for all he had to give you. Your eyes shifted, screaming rebellion that harmonized with the submission that your body so desperately craved. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a mocking half-smile. “Fuck yes, I want it, what do you think I was bouncing around out there for-”

His lips murmured a “Fucking Christ,” as he cut your sentence short, smashing his needy mouth against your burgeoning smirk. His arms crumbled as he finally felt the release of his skin on yours, caging you in as his forearms collapsed against the wall, hands still closed around your wrists. His biceps flexed, framing your faces as he all but devoured you in a kiss that was so wanting, so possessive- it claimed you. It ruined all kisses that came before it and would ever follow it.

He was ruining you, and you committed the way his whole body covered yours and made you feel both safe and coveted to memory, imprinting it on your mind knowing that you would probably never feel this wanted ever again.

Then, just as soon as he was on you, his touch lifted away.

A needy whine escaped your lips before you could hold it back. Eddie slotted his tattooed hand into the space where your neck met your jawline, thumb caressing your skin as he smiled sweetly down at you- but his eyes were anything but sweet.

“I gotta go back out for the encore. Go take these off-” you melted into his touch as his other hand played with the buckles at the front of your top. His hand at your neck crept back, taking your chin between his thumb and the middle knuckles of his forefinger as if he were scolding a child.

“-and wait in your dressing room.”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you smirked as you opened your mouth to argue-

“And don’t fucking argue with me.”

You bit the reply into your bottom lip- you could save the brattiness for later. Just as Eddie had begun to pull away, his eyes dropped to your teeth on your lip and in half a second he was on you again.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the soft skin before biting down firm enough to set off your mental alarms yet soft enough that you didn’t feel any pain from it. He pulled away once more, letting your lip go with a little pop.

“Been wanting to do that all night.” Eddie said, his shit-eating grin back in full force as he winked at you and jogged back to the stage. You stayed put for a second, smiling like an idiot as you heard the roar of the crowd, imagining what Eddie must look like while he returned to the stage with lips pink and swollen from his attempt at eating you alive. No one would know why he looked out of breath and a little extra happy… but you would.

You’d never walked as fast in your life as you did in that moment, making a beeline for your dressing room, fingers already beginning to work on the buckles at your sternum.

***

When Eddie opened the door to your dressing room about ten minutes later, the gigantic grin on his face fell instantly when he saw you lounging on the couch in the same clothes you’d been wearing during sound check, sans your oversized skull sweatshirt. Your black shorts and knit tank top still showed plenty of skin, but he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes and wait for him. You were still in the mood to brat out, apparently.

You looked up at him from your phone, smiling sweetly with challenging eyes. “Hi.”

Eddie closed the door behind him, leaning against it as it shut. “Hi.” he mimicked, crossing his inked forearms over his chest. He stared at you silently, expectantly.

You raised an eyebrow, coyly pretending not to know what he was being so pissy about. “What?”

Eddie pushed off the door, walking towards you at a pace that was agonizingly slow. “You know what.”

You huffed haughtily, looking back at your phone and pretending to be more interested in your screen than the man who’d had you panting up against a wall ten minutes ago. “Well that’s a little presumptuous of you, I’m not a mind reader.”

It didn’t take Eddie long to cross the expanse of your tiny dressing room, deftly sliding the phone from your hands and placing it on a low table beside the couch. “Should’ve known you weren’t listening earlier,” Eddie tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “I know you were a little distracted back there, sweetheart, but when I told you to take your clothes off, I meant it.”

You sighed as Eddie stared down at you from where he stood, towering over you as you laid back against the couch cushions. His gaze devoured you piece by piece as it roved over your wide eyes, glossy lips- your shoulders still shining from sweat after giving your all to the stage, your chest as it rose and fell with your quickening breath.

“Well,” you purred, like a cat who knew they were the center of attention and didn’t mind it in the slightest. “You didn’t say not to put on clothes after I took the other ones off…”

As you spoke he leaned forward, placing a knee on the couch between your legs so that your heat was only inches from his thigh. His hands splayed across your rib cage, admiring the stark contrast between his ink-covered hands and your soft, cream-colored shirt. It was thin enough to see… wait, were you-?

Eddie smirked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nose as he pulled the fabric taut, confirming his suspicions that yep, you weren’t wearing a bra.

Oblivious to Eddie’s train of thought, you continued, “...if you wanted me to just wait here for you naked then you should’ve been more specif-”

Rrrrriiiiipp!

Your jaw dropped, cold air hitting your bare breasts without warning as Eddie tore your shirt open. You squealed, your shocked voice jumping up several octaves. “Eddie!” but your eyes told a different story. You were pissed, but the anger you felt was nothing compared to how fucking hot he looked after doing something as dominant and unexpected as ripping your fucking clothes off.

He raised his eyebrows, giving you a moment to push him away in case he had gone too far- but you didn’t. Instead, you narrowed your eyes up at him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, pressing your cleavage together the way you knew would drive him nuts. “That was fucking Gucci!” you pouted.

Eddie laughed, taking your crossed arms and shoving them up above your head over the arm of the couch as he mockingly imitated your high-pitched “‘That was fucking Gucci!’” he lowered himself over you, bringing his face to the hollow of your neck, and you heard him inhale the scent of you from your collarbone to your ear. He wrapped his lips around the underside of your ear and sucked, then bit, savoring your little moan at the sensation. His mouth met your ear as he growled, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done as you were told, instead of being a little fucking brat.”

Eddie pulled back, sitting up on his knee that was still slotted between your legs as he cupped his hands around your naked breasts. He kneaded them, played with you like he was testing out a brand new toy. He addressed you without looking up into your eyes as he continued to paw at your chest. “You gonna be a good girl now and do what I tell you to?”

You raised your eyebrows, amused that he expected your submission so quickly. Smugly, you looked up at him through narrowed eyes, placing your hands behind your head like a pillow and sighed petulantly.

“Fucking bite me.”

His eyes snapped up at you, thick with predatory disbelief at your cheek even when he had you half naked beneath you. He’d been challenged before, sure- but at this point, when he had his woman pinned down and moaning under him, he was usually the undisputed decision-maker during sex. The smile that bloomed across his lips was devilish, almost like there was a beast within him that had been kept safely under lock and key- until you’d said that.

Eddie was on you, grabbing one breast and enveloping the nipple in a harsh suck of his lips, biting down on the little nub hard. You gasped, the sound a lewd, sharp moan that brought out a laugh in him so nefarious it gave you chills. He looked up at you with eyes alight with amusement and feral need that shook you to your core.

“Oh, baby-” he laughed, crawling up until his face hovered over yours. “-I’m gonna have some fucking fun with you.”

Taking your face in his hands, Eddie Munson kissed you like it was what he had been put on God’s green earth to do. His lips moved against yours with a beautiful mix of urgency and devotion, like you could just tell that right here, right now, there was nothing else he cared about except making sure you knew exactly how badly he wanted- needed- to make you his. He slowly lowered the rest of his body until his pelvis was flat against yours, grinding into your clothed heat and exploiting the chink in your brat armor that was the his fucking size.

You bucked your hips up into him, craving friction as you moaned into his mouth. Eddie chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby, you need something?”

You pouted against him, moving a hand to reach between the two of you and palm him through his jeans, but he knocked your hand out of the way, continuing to dry hump you to insanity. You whined as he bit your pouting lip, sucking it into his mouth before his tongue slipped into yours. It explored you, tasting you as your tongue happily let him in. You felt his hand creep down your torso, giving your abused, bitten tit a little squeeze before traveling further down to the button of your shorts.

He undid the button with ease before you registered that he was taking off your clothes after he had denied you access to do the same to him. “Hey,” you panted, reaching for him, “you first, that’s not fair. I’m nearly naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt.”

Eddie chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. “Fair?” he asked, “Since when did you want to play fair?” He reached back down to your shorts, button already undone, and gently pulled down the zipper. “You were the one out there- as you said- ‘bouncing around’-” His hands raked up your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts and slowly tugged them down as you lifted your hips slightly so he could remove them smoothly. Eddie smirked; NOW she does what I want her to do. “-knowing full well I couldn’t do a damn thing about it… and that fucking wink-” His eyes rolled back in his head just imagining it. He groaned as he pulled your shorts from your feet and discarded them on the floor. “-what the fuck was that, huh? Trying to get a rise out of me, baby?”

You giggled, bubbly laughter floating into a breathy sigh as Eddie’s finger traced the line of your slit through your panties. “Hmmmmm, like it when you call me baby.” you hummed.

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh you do?” His finger traveled up over the fabric, and he chuckled when you bucked up into his touch as the pad of his finger passed over your clit. That finger slipped under the elastic waistband of your panties, pulling it upwards off your skin as far as it could stretch. “You’re entirely too happy right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He let go of the elastic, making you jump with a breathy whimper as it hit your skin with a soft sting. “I’m switching back to sweetheart.”

You whined and he laughed as he continued to play with the elastic on your panties. He stared at them, entranced, before a wolfish grin took up residence on his face. “You like these?” he asked, and you knew where this was going right away.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “How kind of you to ask this time.”

The grin grew, and he took the crotch of your panties into his fist, grabbing the fabric above it with his other hand to do the same. You ground your hips against his knuckles as they brushed your pussy, already soaked and eager for any friction you could get. “Yeah, you know what,” he voiced, as if he were simply thinking out loud. “I don’t really care if you like them or not.”

And with that, another article of clothing was ripped to shreds by Eddie Munson and his stupid, tattooed, ring-covered, sexy-as-fuck hands.

This time you couldn’t even be offended; you were just fucking feral at this point. While he was still distracted by your panties, you quickly shoved yourself up to a kneeling position, startling him enough that he moaned into the fervent kiss that crashed into his mouth. The two of you knelt on the couch cushions, hands grabbing at fabric desperately in a quest to make your skin connect at every square inch you had. Eddie allowed you to pull his shirt over his head, and the shallow breath you had left was instantly knocked from your lungs when you took in the ink that decorated his torso. Some tattoos were old and faded almost blue, while others looked newer- song lyrics, mythical creatures, hellish images adorned his skin like a tapestry that belonged in a museum- but it was here, under your hands. All for you. You couldn’t hold yourself back from bending down a little lower, sliding your tongue up his sternum over the masterpieces scarred into his skin and licking a long, broad stripe from his chest until you reached the tip of his chin. You felt him shiver, arms tightening around you after shoving the remains of your tank top over your shoulders. You started to push him back, planning to open his pants and show him what else you could do with your tongue- but Eddie wasn’t about to let you be on top after the way you’d been acting all night.

“Mm-mm, nope.” he mumbled, stepping off the couch.

“I’m just trying to suck your cock, baby. Please?” You looked up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, widening your legs as you knelt on the couch facing him, squishing your boobs together in that way that usually got you exactly what you wanted. For some reason, Eddie was immune.

He placed his hand along your neck, thumb and forefinger squeezing just enough for him to feel your pulse. The way your eyes widened, looking up at him the same way you had when he’d shoved you up against a wall earlier- it brought a satisfied hum out of Eddie, and he loved the way he could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. There was no hiding what you felt when his hand was wrapped around your throat.

“You like calling me baby, sweetheart?”

You gulped. He felt it, of course, and he had to hold back a laugh- you looked so cute like this. Made him want to break you just to see what you’d be like when he picked up the pieces.

Your eyes were blown wide, like a hunted fox with nowhere to run. “Is that okay? Can I call you baby?”

His face crumpled- god, you were adorable. Eddie smiled sympathetically, “Oh you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart-” His thumb moved up to your bottom lip, stroking gently before working it into your mouth; he groaned, head thrown back when he felt your soft, wet tongue swirl around his digit and coat it with your spit.

“-don’t care what you’re calling me as long as you know I own your ass tonight.”

And then you moaned- oh, you fucking moaned his name around his finger in your mouth, and his cock twitched at the way it sounded. He wanted to record that, play it on loop, put it in a fucking song, hell- anything for him to be able to listen to it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to hear it, to know it was his name on your fucking tongue.

His thumb ripped from your mouth, replaced by his middle and ring finger, delving surprisingly deep into your mouth as you gagged around them. Your tongue quickly resumed its previous motions, lapping at his thick fingers and sliding over, under, around, between them. You reveled in the taste of metal as you tongued his silver rings. You gasped when he removed his fingers before, without warning, he slid them into your weeping pussy.

Your expression was beautifully obscene, eyes wide with surprise while your mouth- glistening with spit from his fingers leaving in a rush- fallen open in a silent scream. Eddie thrust his fingers up and into you repeatedly, forcing you open wider and wider with the rapid motion.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Eddie grit into your ear, “I don’t wanna hear anything but my goddamn name leave that pretty ‘lil mouth until I’m done with you, aright?”

You were moaning, but evidently that was still not enough to deter you from being your snarky self. “Well that’s unrealistic, I’ll probably say more than just tha- ah! Oh fuck-!”

Eddie’s pace was relentless, fingers ripping through you with a vengeance as he muttered “Bratty little slut-” spearing you over and over as you sped toward the white-hot precipice that wasn’t quite release, but certainly what Eddie intended to pull out of you.

You moaned as what felt like a dam within you suddenly gave way, flooding your inner thighs, Eddie’s hand, and the couch beneath you. Eddie smiled wide, the muscles in his arm screaming pointlessly- he wasn’t going to stop until you’d given him every last drop there was to give.

“-yeah, not so bratty when you’re squirting all over my hand, are you baby? What, are you trying to say something? Spit it out, popstar-”

The noises tumbling from your lips were anything but coherent, Eddie knew that. He just kept grinning like a kid in a candy store as you babbled sounds that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have just been yes, yes, yes, Eddie, god yes!

Whatever it was, it was music to his ears.

Eddie looped his arms under your knees, pulling you into a sitting position with your legs wide open. Dropping to his knees, he stared at your spread pussy, glistening with the slick he’d just wrestled from you. His hands, wet with all you’d given him, grasped your thighs firmly but gently as he looked up into your eyes. It might have been the post-orgasmic haze you were experiencing, but for a second, Eddie looked at you with nothing in his eyes but care and admiration. His gaze shone like sunlight as he looked up at you, your stomach creasing from the crunch position he'd placed you in, your breasts rising and falling with each breath- the way he stared at you made you feel like an angel.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he whispered, hands squeezing your thighs affectionately. Before you could even react, his tongue was on you, lapping away at your soaked pussy. You mewled, head thrown back and spine arching as unraveled you from the inside out. He traced endless intricate shapes over your clit, your lips, your hole- thoughts flew from your brain as you let his mouth drive you fucking wild. His ministrations slowed at one point, causing you to open your eyes- you couldn’t even remember when you’d closed them- and look up at Eddie.

Upon looking up, you were blessed with the sight of Eddie Munson, close-cut beard soaked with your slick, shirtless, pantsless, and currently pulling off his black boxers to reveal a cock that made you salivate on sight.

You let your brattiness fly out the window- there would be time for more of it later, but right now you needed that cock in one of your holes and you didn’t quite care which one.

Eddie stroked himself leisurely, eyes boring down into yours the whole time. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

You spread your legs open wider for him. “Please.” you whined.

Eddie shook his head, disappointed, sinking to his knees again. “See, this is what I knew would happen,” he murmured, sliding a finger around your clit at a torturously slow pace. “I can’t believe you got fucked stupid already and I didn’t even have to use my cock, those were just my fingers, baby.” From the slick sounds you heard from below your line of sight, you knew that he was jerking himself off as he played with your pussy. It was enough to pull a desperate moan from your throat. He licked one flat, wet stripe from your opening to your clit before murmuring against you, “Can’t even use your words and tell me what you want, sweet girl’s been fucked too dumb to make decisions, is that right?”

You found yourself nodding ‘yes’, the dirty words flying out of his mouth in rapid succession throwing your brain into overdrive. He was right; you barely had the brain capacity to think right now, much less match his attitude with snark. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, waiting for whatever he planned on doing next.

Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked at you pityingly. “That’s right, don’t worry baby I’ll just make all the decisions now, okay?” He rose, leaning over you as he placed a knee to your side and stroked himself, lining up his fully hard cock at your entrance. Your heartbeat quickened, excitement and anticipation building now that you knew his cock would be inside you soon. You mewled as his tip stroked your slit, up and down and up and down again… and stopping at your hole, hovering outside you.

You looked up at him desperately, only to breathe in sharply upon seeing his devilish grin paired with coal-black lust-blown eyes.

“Beg for it.”

You sighed so heavy it became a sob, frustrated and scrunching up your face like you were ready to throw a tantrum.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.

“There she is.” he murmured.

If looks could kill, your glare would have sent Eddie Munson to his deathbed. He matched it with a condescending smile that spoke volumes of the power trip he was on right now. Leaning in slightly closer, he repeated himself. “Beg, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

Eddie shrugged, backing up just enough for his cock to leave your skin- you knew it was over from there.

“Wait!” you cried, eyebrows drawing together desperately under his cocksure gaze. Christ you didn’t want to beg, but you might not have a choice. Eddie waited patiently, stroking his cock absentmindedly as he watched you squirm below him.

You looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice was honey sweet, soft and submissive.

Eddie crouched down, sticking a finger in his mouth before he used it to play with your pussy, stroking circles around your clit and pumping it slowly in and out of you. “Aww, baby…” he crooned before narrowing his eyes. “-we both know you can do better than that.”

You groaned, back arching as your hands fisted frustratingly into the cushions. “Eddie, pleaaasse-”

“Try harder, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Eddie you fucking prick, just fucking fuck me, please, I need your cock-”

Eddie smiled- that was good enough for him. “‘Atta girl.” he groaned deeply as he pushed his cock into your waiting hole, your thankful moan mingling with his.

His dick was perfect, filling you deliciously and long enough to just hit that spot beneath your clit that made your nerves go berserk. You didn’t realize how loud your moaning was until Eddie shut you up by covering your mouth with his own, swallowing down every sound you made and repaying you with noises of his own.

“God, baby- so fuckin’ tight-”

You moaned, squeezing him as his cock speared you again and again. You were so built up between your squirting earlier and Eddie’s talented tongue- you were already getting close.

As if he could read your mind, Eddie grunted out as he continued thrusting into you, “I’m nearly there already, baby, you gonna cum with me?”

You whined, nodding ‘yes’ as he pacified your mewling with his thumb. You lapped at it lewdly, covering him with a thick layer of your spit before releasing it with a pop. Eddie brought it down to your clit, working gentle circles around your bundle of nerves as his thrusting picked up the pace. You squirmed under him, chasing your release as you listened to the filth that poured from his mouth while he fucked the living shit out of you.

“Jesus, fuck, so tight- my sweet girl, gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna make you come undone on my cock, just a fucking mess, gonna cum so hard on my cock-”

That last thing he said seemed to jerk him back into reality- his eyes grew wide, snapped out of his high as he looked down at you. “Shit, I don’t have a condom…baby, I’m so sorry, shit, where should I-”

You reached down, raking your nails softly over his hips. “I’m on birth control.” you said, smiling calmly. You kicked yourself for being so eager; normally you would still insist on a condom even with your implant, but Eddie just did something to you. “You haven’t been fucking any random groupies, have you?”

Eddie huffed, his laughter strained by his fast-approaching orgasm. “You’re the first in a while, angel. Last I checked I was clean, but I can still pull out if you-”

“Inside.” you whispered, grasping his ass and pulling him deeper into you. “I trust you, Eddie, I want you to fill me.”

His movements stuttered, big brown eyes wide and watching you like you were a miracle unfolding underneath him. He was still for half a second before his thumb resumed its movements over your clit as he thrusted faster, harder than before.

“Oh fuck, you want me to fill you baby? You want my fucking cum?”

His cock speared into you as deep as it could go, Eddie’s attention to your clit driving you over the edge with relentless speed. “Yes, I want it Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Fucking take it baby, cum on that cock.”

Eddie groaned as you clamped down on him, his seed spilling inside of you while your pussy fluttered around him. You arched your back until your face was pressed into the cushions behind you, muffling your whimpering voice as you moaned his name.

A few moments passed, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of sex, before Eddie slowly pulled out of your wet heat. You laid there for a moment before you felt Eddie clean his sticky spend from your thighs and ass using a tissue.

“Normally,” he said gently, “I would use a warm washcloth to do this, but we have limited options.”

You sat up as he finished, smiling up at him playfully. “That sounds nice,” you said, “maybe I shouldn’t have listened to you earlier, made you wait until you couldn’t take it anymore and just whisked me off to your place.”

Eddie sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. He looked up at you with nothing but content sweetness in his eyes, any trace of the feral dominance from earlier gone for now. “I mean, we can still do that.”

You beamed, “Really?”

Eddie scoffed, tugging you closer. “What do you mean, ‘really’? You think I need to be desperately horny to want you in my bed?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of his bed. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t know if you wanted this to just be a one time thing, or…” You trailed off, unsure of what Eddie’s expectations had been for what happened after.

Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, confused. “Sweetheart,” he said, his finger tracing circles on your thigh affectionately. “We can hash out details whenever you’re comfortable… but tonight? I would count myself a very lucky man if you came home with me tonight.” He touched his forehead to yours, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay?” he asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy upon hearing his honey-sweet words. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before looking him in his big brown eyes. “Okay.” you whispered.

Your eyes stayed connected, melting you until your lips met his again, kissing him sweetly as his hands worked their way to your ass, squeezing as he sighed into your kiss.

“Alright,” he grunted, playfully slapping your thigh as a signal to stand up. “Let’s get you dressed.”

You giggled. “In what? You ripped up all my clothes!” you held up the shredded panties, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eddie shrugged, stepping into his boxers. “I didn’t rip up all of them, don’t be so dramatic.” He picked up your shorts, tossing them to you. “Just go commando with the shorts and wear your sweatshirt, no one will know.”

You sighed, stepping over your torn Gucci tank top and retrieving your bra from where it sat neatly folded in a chair. Eddie looked over his shoulder at you as you began to put it on and gasped.

“You did have a bra!”

You smirked, reaching behind your back for the clasp. “Yeah… I wanted to see your face when I wasn’t wearing one.”

Eddie shook his head, smiling like an idiot as he buckled his jeans. “Unbelievable.” he chided, “Was it worth it?”

You tugged your sweatshirt over the bra, taking a few steps in Eddie’s direction until you were close enough to snake your hand around to the back of his neck and pull him down for one more kiss. When you pulled away, Eddie looked down at you entranced, blinking rapidly as if emerging from a dream. He could only describe the feeling in his chest as complete and utter euphoria.

You grinned up at him, eyes alight with adrenaline that still lingered from your performance onstage and absolute infatuation with the man before you.

“So worth it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #rockstar!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #popstar!reader #inspired by demi lovato's album holy fvck #brat!reader #dom!eddie munson #rip-quizilla

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buttl0rd · 5 months

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I'm watching like a hawk for that new kid 🤲 THE BABY

ALRIGHT HERE HE IS!! lemme introduce you to the new kid 👉👉

this is carroway - he's the best 😎👽

this is gonna be a long post cause i have so much art and content to gush about. i love this kid 👇

Some fun character details:

he was originally supposed to be like the 90's movie tough bully kid but he's ended up just being a stupid asshole. he probably likes to think he's really cool and tough 💪

has 3 younger sisters, hates being outnumbered by girls

huge foodie and finishes whatever you don't eat. not fussy at all

always leaving his mittens outside. they get all wet and gross in the snow

affectionately ripping on everyone he loves. he's a total asshole but most people know he doesn't mean half the shit he says. the real ones tolerate him 😔🤙

he doesn’t know he’s bisexual (don’t tell him, he’ll find out on his own)

Hobbies & Interests

Aliens. Carroway is a firm believer in alien life and has an immense interest in UFO sightings, alien communication and all things outer-space. He often brags to his classmates that he has been abducted and probed, and is friends with the Martians that visit South Park sometimes (do any of them believe him?). He has a telescope that he set up in his friend Dante’s treehouse which he uses to spot UFOs in the night.

FUN FACT: His probe is linked with Cartman's. It's the connection that makes it possible for OCs to exist in the same universe as canon characters.

Drums. He has a drum set in his garage on which he practices every day after school. He has exceptional rhythm and is very talented. He keeps drumsticks in his backpack just in case he encounters a drumset or anything he can make a beat with (tables, benches, trashcans, etc.) Neighbors complain to his parents about the noise, so his garage is sound-proofed to the best of Mr. Carroway’s ability.

Snowboarding. Carroway goes snowboarding every few weeks. His family do snowboarding trips and he LOVES it. He also skateboards and rides his bike when he’s not up in the mountains, kid just likes to go fast. He dreams of being a professional snowboarder when he’s older.

TFBW: Boarderline

Boarder is a special flying support unit, part of Coon & Friends. He delivers high-impact quick attacks with his hoverboard and can heal/cure status conditions with his awesome space beams. As a speedster he utilizes the whole battlefield and is constantly moving, making him difficult to hit.

Origins:

He was a human that got abducted and genetically modified by Martians to serve and protect the alien race. After battling in many galactic wars he returned to his home in Colorado. His abilities were noticed by the superhero organization, Coon & Friends and Boarder was recruited to join their alliance. He provides support to Coon & Friends in battle.

Design:

Inspired by the gear he wears when he goes snowboarding.

His superhero costume consists of a white bodysuit with black tape accents and a big old metal zip. There's reflective blue strips on the gloves, boots and around the edge of his signature spaceboard. He's got these iconic space goggles that protect his face when he’s flying at the speed of light.

His name is a play on words - board (from his hoverboard) and borderline (being only just good enough for Coon & Friends). Allies call him Boarder for short.

SOT: Skullrogue

Skullrogue is Carroway’s Stick of Truth character.

He is a rogue-class unit and is quick and sneaky on the battlefield. He has a long black hooded cloak and a skull mask. His main weapon is a pair of daggers that are enchanted with flame magic. He cannot use magic himself but he is proficient with weapons, especially the daggers. He throws them and uses them to stab enemies in the back.

Skullrogue has an undisclosed edgy backstory, like any rogue player. He is mysterious and broody and so cool. He is loyal to the Wizard King and thinks Princess Kenny is hot.

Post-COVID

As a young adult, Carroway becomes a professional snowboarder and competes nationally in competitions. He becomes famous and earns a lot of money from his career, travelling the world for competitions. He makes it all the way to the Winter Olympics, representing the USA in the snowboarding category

After a career-ending injury in his mid-30's, he had to retire from snowboarding early and now lives off his sponsors and used-to-be-a-big-shot money. Despite being wealthy, he moved back to South Park and lives in a trailer (it’s easier than having a huge house).

He sometimes needs a walking aid to get around and is medicated for chronic back pain.

He was too busy with his career to find love when he was younger, so he stays single and lonely in his 40s. He still goes out and does sport events, commentaries and sponsorships - he remains famous even though he cannot compete anymore. He’s like a living legend in the winter sports community.

I'm still working on a PCOV design for him so stay tuned for that...

Anyway that's it for now!! I hope you love him 😘

#ask box #south park #south park oc #south park new kid #carroway #buttf(art)

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gerogerigaogaigar · 16 days

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In the wake of the Drake/Kendrick beef its become clear that a lot of people here don't know what hip-hop is and/or don't know how to listen to it. Instead of dunking on people's ignorance I'd like to offer up an educational opportunity. Hip-hop can be difficult to get into if you come from an exclusively white and rock oriented upbringing. It simply listens differently than other popular music and you have to learn how to listen to it. This is honestly true of all music, but white america grows up with modern rock and pop that more or less derive their structure from tin pan alley music of the early 1900's. Hip-hop is a derivative of the 70's disco scene. Disco had an even more dance oriented feel than the funk that it spun off from. And funk was already more rhythm heavy than the Soul and Rhythm & Blues that birthed the funk scene.

Hip-hop is, first and foremost, a black artform and I am not black. So I'm not trying to position myself as a community ambassador or anything, but I do get that there are some barriers that white suburban kids face when it comes to getting into hip-hop. I also know that I am very, very into hip-hop so being a suburban white kid is clearly not an excuse for dismissing an entire artform. And racism isn't something you are it's something you do. So its time to stop talking about Weird Al and Eminem* whenever someone asks if you like rap. Right now it is time to learn how to listen.

*all due respect to eminem, he's actually really good, but we aren't talking about white rappers right now

When listening to rap one of the first things you need to pay attention to is the rapper's flow. A rapper's instrument is their voice, but unlike what you may be used to rap vocals are part of the percussion. In the songs included below, try to listen for how the vocals create a rhythmic counterpoint to the instrumentals. and listen for how rappers use rhyme as well as rhythm to create a pleasing cadence. Don't worry about what they're saying, listen to how they say it.

All Caps We start with All Caps, an absolute beast of a song. MF DOOM meets the frantic energy of the beat with a steady even flow that feels effortless. DOOM interlocks Rhyme schemes and uses matching vowel sounds throughout the verses to create the illusion that he is just dropping thoughts off the top of his head. The maneuver he pulls in the last stanza always blows my mind. making a *pop* sound to onomatopoetically match the vowel sound in pot, got, and snot while also rhyming troubles and bubbles.

A Milli Next up is Lil Wayne. Much like DOOM he can bury rhyme schemes for days, but instead of a smooth even flow he goes in bursts of frantic energy to contrast the very steady beat.

Ultimate Denzel Curry is probably one of the best in the trap scene and Ultimate is an early track where he is nailing the lazy beat, angry delivery thing. his shouted couplets overlay the trilled snare to create a texture that is actually very typical of trap music.

Izzo (H.O.V.A.) Jay-Z has a triumphant tone and a sing-songy cadence to his voice. He tends to match the percussive parts of his raps to the downbeat of the drums and it further emphasizes the strings from the Jackson Five sample and his more melodic lilting.

Bad Character You might notice that Quasimoto sounds... uh... well its Madlib with his voice pitched up. Weirdly Quas has a totally different cadence than Madlib. The timbre of his voice is so distinctive but he raps so casually. It almost feels like he is disconnected from the beat, but he's still right on it. It is a weird quirky atmosphere.

ATliens ATliens is the first song on the list with multiple rappers on it. Big Boi is a master of the straightforward 90's gangsta style while Andre 3000 has a supernatural sense for where he is on the beat that allows him to dodge and weave around it. the two of them work together by giving a back and forth between the extreme steadyness of Big Boi and the extreme wonkiness of Andre 3000.

Protect Ya Neck The Wu-Tang Clan had a lot of members and Protect Ya Neck has all of them on it. It would take forever to explain the different styles of the whole Clan so I'm just gonna let you hear it all yourself. even if you can't tell them all apart it is still pretty easy to tell when they pass the mic.

Ready Or Not Wyclef Jean and Ms. Lauryn Hill are two of the best rappers, and also Pras is here. The interpolation of soul hooks that show off Lauryn Hill's singing skills were standard for the group, but Hill could switch from singing to rapping on a dime. Even when they are rapping there is a sense of soul music underlying their music.

Life's A Bitch Another track with a laid back beat. I couldn't tell you when Nas takes a fucking breath in this song. he just goes and goes. everyone on this is so smooth.

Fix Up, Look Sharp Finally I had to get some really rowdy shit on here. Dizze Rascal's flow is so bombastic. he hits every downbeat as hard as possible and almost drowns out the steady snare-kick beat with his voice alone. Like Jay-Z he is also very sing-songy.

#hip hop #kendrick lamar #drake #kendrick drake beef

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kessellluvr · 4 months

Text

˗ˏˋ beggin’ for it ´ˎ˗ nsfw!

: ̗̀➛ MDNI

pairing: fem!lottie x afab!reader

summary: lottie x reader but in the late 90`s, meeting in a club :3 + lottie is a fucking rebel (totally off character heh) - wordcount: 1k

warnings: nsfw, mention of alcohol, mention of smoking, strap-on, oral sex, drunk sex, rough!lottie

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ taglist: @glrlsriot @chig78 @nogenderblender9358 @mayasaurusss @jadeisnothere5 @ratsnestinmyhair

You were in the club, a normal saturday night, sipping on your vodka cranberry as you smoked a cigarette. You felt like someone was watching you, but didnt really make much of it. You glanced around the bar - noticing a woman, probably in her mid twenties eyeing you. Her dark brown eyes were basically staring through you, her brows were thin, some light blue-silvery eyeshadow on her lids along with a massive amount of eyeliner. Her hair was done back in a messy bun, a strand hanging from her forehead. You gave her a slight smile and she raised her brow, a smirk itching on the corners of her dark red lips. She grabbed her drink, getting up and walking over to where you were sitting. She sat down next to you. “You dont look like someone that goes to clubs.. especially not around here.” she stated, her voice was high pitched but also had something dangerous to it. You chuckled softly “You think so? Just cause i aint wearing one of those big ass chokers?” you teased, referring to the one she was wearing: a black one with red spikes. The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes “Whatever.”

“So.. whats your name? Or should i call you mysterious lady that’s been staring at me for like 10 minutes?” you asked her before taking a sip of your drink and puffing on your cigarette. “Charlotte, you can call me Lottie though.”

“Hm, beautiful name..” you remarked innocently, smiling at her. Her gaze remained rock hard as she studied you. You had another small talk and some more drinks, after about an hour she decided to take you to the dance floor. Lottie’s curves pressing against you as she swayed along to the rhythm of the music - her hand on your waist - you didnt really think much of it until she leant to press a kiss against your neck. You bit your lower lip to stay quiet even though your insides were basically burning with desire as she kept planting sloppy kisses against ur neck..

✦ 󠀠

Somehow you found yourself in her apartment, it wasnt too bad - not as trashy as you thought it would be. Lottie pushed you down onto her bed, ripping your shirt off and throwing it aside. You giggled drunkenly “What are you doing?”

“You.” Lottie spat as she started placing kisses on your chest, moving to your nipple and softly biting the hard flesh. You moaned, it almost sounded like a gasp. Her hand slipped to the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down and leaving them hanging at your ankles along with your underwear. She shifted lower, lifting your legs over her shoulders as she trailed her tounge up your slit, tasting your wetness and groaning roughly. “Fuck youre so wet..” she teased as she took your clit between her lips, flicking her tounge over it and sucking it, causing a moan to slip from your lips. lottie started sucking harder, feeling your bud pulse between her lips, your hips instinctively bucked upwards, pushing your cunt closer to her face. “Please..” you whined, making her stop momentarily, raising a brow and looking up at you “Please? Please what?” she mocked. “Please fuck me.. please..” your cheeks flushed as you avoided her gaze, slightly embarrassed by your pathetic begging.

Lottie moved away from you, hopping off the bed and sliding her top over her head, throwing it to the floor carelessly. You watched her with a curious gaze, legs still spread. She walked over to a closet, opening it and grabbing a little box from the top shelf, placing it on the bed next to you and looking through it - she retrieved a transparent purple-ish dildo, laying it next to the box and rummaging through it before getting out a strap-on harness. You bit your lips in anticipation, kicking off your pants and panties which were still hanging on your ankles.

Lottie slid down her pants and thong, revealing her smooth cunt. She put the dildo into its place on the harness before securing the strap tightly around her hips, making sure it sits perfectly. She looked down at your eager form, a smirk playing on her lips. “C’mon babe, get on all fours for me.” she purred, her voice hoarse with desire. You did as she said, getting on all fours for her, pushing your arse out and your upper body down a little - giving her a nice arch. “So pretty..” she hummed as her hands went to run down your sides and to the curve of your butt, wrapping around your cheeks and squeezing them. Then, her hands moved back to your waist - pulling you closer to her, her right hand gripped the base of the dildo while her left was still on your waist, she ran the tip of the toy along your wet slit. You bit back a moan, which turned into a whimper. “Please Lottie..” you whined again and she pushed fowards as she heard your plea, making you cry out as you felt the 6 and a half inches ramming up your dripping pussy. Your eyes rolled back in your skull as she started thrusting in and out of you at a quick pace, her hips slamming against your bum cheeks over and over again. The room echoed with your moans, her grunts and the sound of her flesh against yours, her nails digging into your hips as she sped up. “F-fuck! M’ gonna cum..” you managed to choke out between moans, your cunt clenching around the strapon, legs starting to slightly tremble. “Cum for me.” she rasped and you did, feeling the knot in your stomach loosening as your cum came dripping out of your cunt, running down to her bedsheets. Lottie finally slowed down, letting you ride out her orgasm - your body slumped down to the bed, exhausted but also satisfied. She chuckled, pulling out of you and plopping down on the matress next to you. After you caught your breath, you rolled to your side, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking deep into those brown, almost black eyes. Her hand came to your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away “Youve done so well.” as she pressed a kiss against your lips.

#yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #simone kessell #lottie mathews x reader #adult lottie #lottie x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews smut #charlotte matthews #smut #90s #yellowjacketsxreader #yellowjackets smut #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets season 2

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wtficedance · 2 months

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Ice Dance Reimagined

With the upcoming ISU Congress in Summer of 2024 and ice dance seemingly in an unending beta of rule changes, I figured I would float a few thoughts on the many changes that have been made over the past few years.

As I mentioned in my RD Rules post, the ISU has essentially made moves to return to the original dance (making the change from short -> rhythm dance even more pointless in the first place) choosing to dictate broader themes.

To me, what makes ice dance so unique amongst all the disciplines is the variety of elements and styles that each team is expected to have in their repertoire and the fact that even in a given SD/OD/RD theme, people have to go out of their way to have a unique take. The rules which have lowered difficulty--in the name of giving skaters more room to be creative--have in fact resulted in the opposite. More teams are doing the same difficult features, same footwork, same lifts, same transitions than ever before. Both drawing on old choreography and leading to homogeneity across the discipline.

I propose a scheme which is a compromise of the two conflicting motions in ice dance right now: 1) the “no pattern ever” give everyone freedom vibes and 2) the people who believe the pattern is king. Alternate having a patterned and original short dance, giving the discipline an opportunity to develop new patterns (the original intention of the pattern dance type step sequence) while also ensuring that teams are continuing to emphasize solid ice dance foundations like skating in hold.

Original Short Dance Layout

1PSt

2Pst

Non-touch midline step sequence (style A)

Twizzles

Lift

Patterned Short Dance Layout

Pattern 1

Pattern 2

Non-touch midline step sequence (style A)

Twizzles

Lift

What the ISU (and choreographers/coaches) have fundamentally misunderstood about the appeal of patterns is that EVERY step is intentional and meant to elicit a specific effect and contribute to an overall impression. There's a reason that even though the Yankee Polka and Finnstep and Tango Romantica all include a LFI Closed S-Step, they have completely different timing and contribute to very different impressions. And it is because the general footwork in the pattern, in addition to just the difficult steps and turns, is geared towards reflecting the unique character of that pattern. I cannot count the number of pattern step sequences since 2017 that have effectively been copy pasted across blues, Latin, foxtrot/quickstep, blues x2, and Latin x2 once again programs with only minor changes to mini-lifts. They lack intention, they are the slowest section of the program for a good 90% of RDs because every team--no matter the style--is attempting to make their turns as drawn out as possible to get credit.

I propose that in original dance years there are 2 PSt segments, each with 3 KPs with the former 4th KP serving as a choreographic benchmark. This would allow for direct comparison of teams doing the same steps (and not allow teams to do the exact same difficult turns 5 years in a row) while simultaneously incentivizing creativity.

For example, under “Jig” below there are the following guidelines:

Jig is characterized by (1) high tempo, (2) rapid toe and heel steps, (3) jumps, kicks, hops and other accents including slides and shuffles, (4) tight and rigid torso, emphasis on leg movements over arm movements, (5) music in 12/8, 6/8, 9/8, 2/4. Teams are expected to pick music and a type of jig dance which fits these characteristics. 1PSt must start at center ice, 2PSt must end at center ice.

An example of key points:

1KP1: A) LFI Counter, LBI Bracket B) LBI Counter, LFI Bracket in any variant of closed hold except basic hand-in-hand

1KP2: both skip, LBO C-Step, RFI Swing S-step. in killian or foxtrot variant.

1KP3: A) RBO 1.5Tw, any kicking/tucking motion, RFI Bracket, RBO Bracket. B) LFO 1.5Tw, any kicking/tucking motion matching/mirroring/corresponding to partner A, LBI Bracket, LFO Bracket. Partners must be touching once exited from twizzles.

1PSt being completely prescriptive in KPs and 2PSt being slightly more flexible:

2KP1: both beginning any bracket, immediate counter, 1-5 intermediate steps where at least one partner must hit at least one difficult skating position* for at least a 1/2 beat, skid exit.

2KP2: both beginning swing FO C-Step, 3-8 intermediate steps/turns with partners MIRRORING each other, ending BO Counter. Partners must be touching entire time

2KP3: both beginning double S-step, 1-4 intermediate steps, ending with one partner on a BO edge and picking into the ice and the other partner doing at least one revolution around. PSt, officially concluded when the stationary partner resumes motion. Partners much be touching at two points until the first revolution around in 2KP3 is concluded.

Skaters would receive credit for the KPs accomplished in both and would receive a fourth Y/N based on whether they met choreographic requirements outlined in italics above.

*difficult skating position: any position where the skating leg is bent at least 90 degrees (shoot the duck, hydroblade, any lunge, any crouch), besti squat, spread eagle, ina bauer, spiral, layback, etc.

Now for some theme ideas:

2024-2025 - Patterned Short Dance - Grand Ballroom with a pattern of Golden Waltz

Teams must skate a program which reflects the character of the waltz particularly with regards to (1) lilting knee action, (2) closed position in hold, (3) repeated rotation as a unit when progressing across the ice, (4) movements should appear long, extended, and with sweeping open posture, (5) tone and musical themes may vary as long as a waltz character is maintained.

2025-2026 - Original Short Dance - Jig

Jig originated in Ireland and Scotland, gradually progressing throughout the British Isles and mainland Europe and then throughout the world including in the Metis people of Canada and Louisiana. Straight and sand jigs were developed in the US by African Americans in the 19th century which eventually influence the creation of jazz and tap. Jig is characterized by (1) high tempo, (2) rapid toe and heel steps, (3) jumps, kicks, hops and other accents including slides and shuffles, (4) tight and rigid torso, emphasis on leg movements over arm movements, (5) music in 12/8, 6/8, 9/8, 2/4. Teams are expected to pick music and a type of jig dance which fits these characteristics.

2026-2027 - Pattern Short Dance - Percussive Dances with a pattern of Paso Doble

(1) Stomping, toe picking, clapping, other percussive elements involving hitting the legs or torso, (2) dance is primarily danced to the RHYTHM and TEMPO not the melody, if there is a section without audible rhythm the team should create that beat using percussive elements (3) music must include a beat throughout, a melody is not necessary, (4) a theme should remain consistent throughout, if movements are drawn from a traditional dance they should reflect the character of the music chosen and the pattern should be interpreted appropriately.

2027-2028 - Original Short Dance - Music and Rhythms of the 1970s

The 1970s were one of the most influential eras of music, giving birth to entire new genres and styles and furthering the popularity of funk, soul, R&B, jazz, glam rock, folk rock, pop, disco, reggae, electronic music, and the birth of hip hop, it was defined by experimental sounds due to new music equipment.

(1) Music choices and rhythms should be COHERENT and related, the two music choices should be related thematically, structurally, or stylistically beyond more than just being from the 1970s, (2) one piece of music should be high tempo (>120bpm) and one piece should be low tempo (<100bpm), a third piece can be skated to any tempo, (3) the holds, movements, and steps in the PSt should reflect the style of music and dance chosen

2028-2029 - Pattern Short Dance - Jazz and Tap with a pattern of Quickstep

Jazz dance is a particularly broad genre that includes original social dances like the Charleston developed in parallel to the birth of jazz in Harlem, as well as more modernized styling.

Skaters should take inspiration from dancers like Bill Robinson, Jack Cole, Fred Astaire, Gus Giordano, nd Bob Fosse, as well as Broadway stage choreography and tap dance.

(1) Music choices and rhythms should be COHERENT and related, the two music choices should be related thematically, structurally, or stylistically, (2) one piece of music should be high tempo (>120bpm) and one piece should be low tempo (<100bpm), a third piece can be skated to any tempo, (3) the Quickstep timing can be adjusted to fit the tempo of the music chosen and to reflect the character of the chosen choreography.

See: https://gotta-dance.com/brief-history-of-jazz-dance/

2029-2030 - Original Short Dance - Nuevo Latin

The ISU has done a whole lot of cha cha, rhumba, and samba, but those are FAR from the only Latin rhythms. Dancers will be challenged to develop a new pattern that isn’t already an ISU pattern (and one that hasn’t been done a million times).

Examples of other rhythms: bachata, cumbia, danzon, salsa, mambo, merengue, bomba, lena, perreo, etc.

(1) The entirety of the PSt should be done in the same style and tempo but can differ from the the rest of the program. (2) Dancers are only required to pick one rhythm style but 2-3 are permitted. (3) skaters must have two points of contact with each other the entirety of the PSt, (4) at least 6 changes of hold must take place during the PSt, this can be from the same to same hold as long as a step or turn takes place during the change, (5) 1PSt must begin at the end of the long axis, 2PSt must end at the same end.

Choreo deductions: obvious use of cha cha, rhumba, or samba music/choreo. Tango, paso doble, and flamenco also excluded.

2030-2031 - Pattern Short Dance - Folk Dances with a pattern of Polka

Folk and country dance is characterized by it's informal and reflection of the general populace intended for widespread social dance. As opposed to court and ballroom dances, it should not be characterized as refined, ritual, or for stage performance. Skaters are encouraged to choose a folk dance related to their background. (1) Polka is skated to a bpm of 120bpm +/-4 and can be skated to and interpreted in any kind of musical style, (2) the same folk dance theme should remain constant throughout the dance or if two dances are chosen they should be closely related (i.e. the non-touch midline step sequence done in the line dancing style and the polka in the square dance style) (3) skaters may have a non-touch portion of their 2PSt provided they remain within one arm-length of each other.

Examples of folk dances include: maypole, hora, tarantella, polka, square dance, clogging, Dutch crossing, oberek, mazurka, Morris , polska, ballu tundu, bhangra, circassian, dabke, garba, khigga, romvong, peacock dance, nongak, yangge, chacarera, zamba, malambo, marinera, akayida, kizomba, agbadza, baile folklorico, shota, rugovo, cumbia, landler, schuhplatter, sardana, dragon dance, lion dance, mapale, danza de la tijeras, jenkka etc.

2031-2032 - Original Short Dance - Swing and Social Dances

Despite the many years of jive, charleston, and jitterbug original dances, there is no swing (or related dance) pattern. Dancers are to pick a swing-adjacent dance style and create a pattern. Examples: charleston, lindy hop, jive, jitterbug, shag, boogie woogie.

(1) Dance style should generally be from the 1920s-1950s era, (2) skaters should include intricate changes of positions for each partner reflecting the highly athletic nature of swing dancing, (3) 1PSt should begin in front of the judges with a 1-2 second mini-lift and end in the same location, 1PSt and 2PSt should consist of similar patterns across the ice and each take one lap, (4) skaters should utilize hops, skips, assisted jumps, and up to 3 mini-lifts per PSt to reflect the character of their chosen dance.

Swing does NOT necessarily need to be up tempo if choosing a style such as West Coast Swing which is danced with a distinct lack of bounce.

And then with time in "pattern" years, new patterns will arise and be eligible for interpretation. Would love to hear people’s thoughts :)

#wtficedance #ice dance #figure skating #rhythm dance #future of fs #ice dance reimagined #kaitlyn weaver can you hear me #pattern dance #original dance #ice dance rules #opinion #rule changes #isu rule changes

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cartermagazine · 2 months

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Today We Honor Chuck Stewart

Chuck Stewart, one of the most prolific and admired photographers in jazz — an intimate chronicler of many of its icons and milestones, including the historic recording session for John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme” — over a distinguished career that spanned more than 70 years.

“Chuck was born in Henrietta, Texas and raised in Tucson, AZ where his family moved to seek more opportunities. On his 13th birthday, his mother gave him a 616 Box-Brownie camera to try his hand at photography. The next day, the famed mezzo-soprano Marian Anderson visited his school in Tucson. He took pictures of the event and sold them to students and teachers and earned $2.00. This was a great financial leap from a 25-cents a week allowance. His career was born.

Chuck worked the New York City music scene in the early fifties capturing notable jazz luminaries representing Latin jazz, big band, bebop, cool jazz, and more, as well as bands and vocalists representing rock n’ roll, rhythm and blues, pop, country, Broadway, film and television. Chucks archives contain 800,000 negatives with a large inventory being jazz musicians from the 50’s to late 90’s.

Chuck was the only photographer at the historic recording session of John Coltrane’s album “A Love Supreme.” Oddly, his photos weren’t used for the album cover. However rare and unseen photos from that session now reside in the jazz archives of the Smithsonian Institution for anyone to see. Majority of the images used in the John Coltrane’s “Chasing Trane” Documentary and James Brown HBO Documentary are Chucks.

When the Beatles first toured America, Chuck toured with them but asked to be reassigned after being pinched and poked too many times by fans. “There are no black Beatles. Why are you grabbing me?” I protested. ‘You’re with them and that’s good enough for us,’ fans retorted.” - via chuckstewartphotograhy.com

CARTER™️ Magazine

#chuck stewart #carter magazine #carter #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #history #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth

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britt-kageryuu · 2 months

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Karaoke Night #2: A edited vod. A line in the description mentions new aged up models. Aged up as in they look less like freshman in high school, and more freshman in college/university, for Mandrin, BlueNeon, and Dee. Red Angel is perfect the way he is.

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Leo is dramatically performing 'Could Have Been Me' by The Struts.

He's dancing with a mic stand as well. Lots of hip swaying, and tail wagging.

He's also showing off a the newer version of his model. Taller, broader, a bit more muscular, more markings on his limbs, and a bit more mature looking. While dressed in Jean shorts, knee high boots, his mask with long tails, and a simple blue tank top.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Donnie is singing in a lower octave than usual. His models build is also Taller, Broader, swimmers build. He keeps changing outfits to match the song.

He's currently performing Sounds of Silence, if only to show off his voice. Some of his notes had a rumble that could be felt through the speakers/headphones of the listener.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mikey is only a bit taller, but dressed in a super cropped paint splattered jacket, his mask with some art themed charms on the tails, black/orange fingerless gloves, sunset gradient colored pants, and boots.

He's currently singing and dancing to Never Had a Friend Like Me. Throwing in alot of his razzmatazz! A glowing effect on his model helped with the effect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raphs model was in just black baggy pants, his mask, and red/black sneakers.

He's performing Surface Pressure, as a bit of stress relief. As performing amazingly!

The others are used to this by now, but it still hits a slight sore spot everytime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

River wanted to sing a specific song, but was told no, no matter how cute they look, the song wasn't appropriate enough for a cute teal robot turtle to sing. She pouted off to the side while looking through the song list.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shelldon apparently found some older songs, and was singing Surfing USA by the Beach Boys. It sounded a little funny with Shelldons slight surfer dude accent. And a little off key.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few sets were just rap battles between the brothers trying to trip each other up in the middle of a verse. Who won each round just depended on who was against who.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A clip from a break time where Shelldon and River messed around with a large floor piano prop, and attempting to play an actual song. They keep stopping the blame the other for hitting the wrong notes, and saying the combination they need to play.

They don't realize they're both trying to play a different similar sounding song.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boys perform another couple of 90's boyband songs, and dance routines.

Though at one point someone missteps and they have to quickly get back into rhythm, and not get hit by Raphs tail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leo decides to change it up a bit and sing is Spanish for a song or two. (If it amuses you yes one of the songs is Despacito.)

What little bit of the chat that is visible during the VOD is going nuts over how his voice sounds while singing in a different language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Donnie, Leo, and Mikey are performing a J-Pop song with full choreography. They all swapped to male J-pop Idol style outfits for the song.

Though there is a bit of talk of doing a Female Idol song with the Idols Costumes, but they didn't have such outfits/costumes ready at the time.

Again what little of the chat visible is a little disappointed not to see them all in the Idol costumes.

<><><><><><><>

A clip of Leo doing a magical girl transformation to change into a blue sailor uniform type costume, before tripping on something, and the music is cut off. He was not going to live this down for a while.

<><><><><><><>

The camera shifts to see Mikey start to yawn, lean back a bit to far and fall backwards out of his chair with a loud thud.

<><><><><><><>

Raphs in the middle of a song, when his phone rings LOUDLY. He fumbles on the verse, and trying to answer to phone. He walks off the set, and away from the microphones so his call isn't picked up by the stream.

<><><><><><><>

Donnie in the middle of a song accidentally activated a rapid costume change that swapped through 10 outfits, before leaving his model 'naked'. He lets out a squeak, and runs out of frame to fix this accident.

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Masterpost

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thee-horny-thicky · 1 year

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The 141’s Music Taste

A/N: The genres and artists I’ve selected were chosen through the lenses of a Black American, and I have no clue how popular they are in the U.K. However, given that these men have traveled the world, I doubt that really matters. Anyway, enjoy :)

Captain John Price:

Now, I know he’s canonically only in his late 30s, but I imagine him loving oldies. And when I say oldies, I mean songs older than him. Blues, jazz, and classic rock have his heart. After a mission, he loves nothing more than to kick back with a cigar and whiskey, with some Ray Charles or Louis Armstrong playing in the background.

The only modern genre he really likes is R&B, largely due to how much the aforementioned genres influenced it. And by modern, I mean the stuff around during the early 2000s.

Also, despite his love for old music, he cannot stand classical. It gives him a headache and irritates him to high-heaven.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

I see a lot of people headcanon that Ghost is a metalhead. It’s an obvious choice and honestly makes sense. However, given his past, I believe that he’d have an aversion to metal. He might not be opposed to the classic rock ‘n roll sound, but metal? That’s a no-go.

I imagine him loving music that centers around self-expression and conveying what the artist has gone through. It grounds him and helps him feel a little more human. Thus, I think that he’d love blues and rap above all genres.

He especially loves 2Pac because of how often he talked about the social issues around him, even if Ghost himself can’t relate to the bulk of them. He just likes that 2Pac used his fame to talk about what his community was going through, and he loves his versatility.

R&B is another genre he regularly listens to, and I can even see him dabbling in pop. And by pop, I mean Lana Del Rey esc music. Also, as odd as it may seem, I can see him really liking Melanie Martinez.

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish:

Soap’s the metalhead of the bunch. He can give you an in-depth critique of all the famous bands and has a list of underground metal artists he adores. Due to being a part of an elite task force, he rarely gets a chance to see his favorites, so when he does, he buys a ludicrous amount of merchandise to commemorate the show.

However, though he’s a metalhead first and foremost, he can vibe with any music he can dance to. Beyonce’s Renaissance? He had it on repeat, playing it so much, that his bunkmates were too annoyed to even tease him. And after a particularly rough mission, I imagine he’d turn to a softer-sounding genre like R&B.

But don’t play anything too slow around him, because he will complain. And opera? It makes him murderous.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

Gaz was the only one to willingly listen to Renaissance with poor Johnny. I don’t know why, but I can picture him being a big Bey fan, his love for her going all the way back to her Destiny Child days when she was his celebrity crush. Play any Beyonce song, and he’ll be able to tell you the name of it within 2.3 seconds. And since he grew up during their domination, he’s also partial to the Spice Girls.

Prince and Michael Jackson are two more of his favorites, and he even managed to get Sosp hooked on them.

Now, he does also enjoy more ‘masculine’ music, the primary example being ‘90s gangsta rap. However, I imagine him preferring genres like R&B, pop, melodic rap, and neo-soul. And unlike Ghost, his pop music doesn’t need to have a sad girl or sad-core lilt. No, he’ll be fine jamming to Britney Spears, Dojo Cat, and Dua Lipa.

If you can’t tell by now, R&B is basically the only genre the 141 can agree on. Rhythm and Blues is a very versatile genre, allowing every member to enjoy it despite their varied music tastes. And honestly, I’m kinda obsessed with them blasting it during missions.

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tiffany-chan123 · 4 months

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Tiffany's Fancuries For Your Consideration

Hey there folks! This is actually the fourth Fancuries that I'll be participating in, and my second "For Your Consideration" post that I've made during my time as not just a pretty cure fanseries creator but as a pretty cure fan.

Over the past couple of years, my cures and by extension fanseries tend to change a LOT, I have been trying to experiment with Kisekae and my drawn art more and I am planning on getting back into writing fanfiction and my fanseries (In fact I'm currently writing episode one of the main fanseries I'll be talking about in this very post)

~~~

Deep within the reaches of cyberspace, there is a secret world known simply as Arcadia, a place where all video game characters around can travel to their own games freely. However, the land of Arcadia was soon under attack by the villainous "Dark Network" and their army of monstrous glitches wanting to take over their world. However, a sneaky and speedy rabbit named Riki and a fairy named Aruna end up making their way to the human world and end up running into a girl named Mariko Asoda, but with Riki and Aruna on the run from the Baguras, Riki hands Mariko a Pixel Curesette and she then transforms into the heroine of exciting Action, Cure Action! Filled with determination to save the gaming world of Arcadia as well as her own, Cure Action's truly wild adventure is about to begin. Now! Pretty Cure Game Start!

The main themes of this series deal with stuff like technology, cyberspace, and reality and fiction, while motifs include stuff like video games, pixels, and 90's aesthetics. I plan on releasing this fanseries on a few fanfic sites (AO3, Quotev, even Wattpad) and I do have a wiki for it, if you are wondering about what I used to make the cures and other characters, it's Kisekae a pretty well-known dollmaker software (It can be pretty NSFW though just keep that in mind, though there is an SFW version if I remember correctly), though two characters have been made with picrew, but enough about that let's get into...

~~~

The Cures!

From Left to Right: Nene Kanemitsu, Mariko Asoda, Kayla Coleman, Aruna Yushi

Mariko Asoda / Cure Action (Pink)

A fourteen-year-old student council member with a soft spot for video games, a big daydreamer, and a selfless escapist who just wants to help people like the video game heroes she loves, but has a big sense of righteousness about her, loves to over indulge in her hobbies and always expects gratitude from others. Has a bit of a habit of saying "Level Up!". Becoming Cure Action, she is themed after action games and platformers and has fire powers.

Kayla Coleman / Cure Puzzle (Green)

A fifteen-year-old foreign exchange student originally from Brooklyn, New York, and despite her quiet disposition she is very much a crafty inventor type who has a love for crafting new ideas, despite that confident mask she wears, she is a massive introvert with some slight confidence issues, with a love for sarcasm and darker topics and just wants to be accepted and loved by others for the games she creates and codes. When she becomes Cure Puzzle, she gains the powers of the earth via stones and tetrominoes, and is themed after puzzle games.

Nene Kanemitsu / Cure Song (Yellow)

The daughter of the creator of the famous game mascot Riki the Rabbit, Nene is well-known as a passionate and competitive professional gamer who is a regular at the Skyblue arcade center, especially when it comes to rhythm games. Nene essentially acts as the mood maker of the group, going through life with a rather positive and takes life and everyday situations through good humor and optimism, but has a big obsession with idols and isn't afraid to talk about her hyper fixations for a long time, can be a bit careless, short-tempered, boisterous, and is not good with money at all. As Cure Song, she is themed after Rhythm Games and has the power of sound.

Aruna / Aru Yuushi / Cure Hero (Blue)

Originally known as the fairy priestess Aruna, a character that originated from the video game RPG Valianta Quest X, she made her home in the Pixel Pocket (Basically the transformation items of the season) after she was saved by Riki, who always wanted to become a knight out of the want to truly help out her kingdom, she eventually transformed into a human via learning a spell. A very defensive girl with a hard shell and tries to convey a heroic and yet cool image, but is a way more sensitive person underneath it all. As Cure Hero, she is themed after Adventure games and RPG's, and wields the power of light via the Bravery Sword, instead of the Virtual Sticks the cures normally use.

Allies

Riki

The protagonist of a popular platformer game series that Mariko is a big fan of. Riki can move at super fast speeds and pick things up with his ears, who is adventurous, lively, and a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

Princess Dahlia

The fair and sweet ruler of the Bloomfield kingdom, and despite her dainty and cutesy appearance, she is actually the leader of the resistance fighting against the “Dark Network” in Arcadia, in which she comes from the popular puzzle game “Puzzle De Puyo”.

Fumio Kanemitsu

Nene’s father and the man who created Riki the Rabbit, and currently works as a programmer for the video game company Kurotaki, moody, fickle, changeable, and obviously weirded out by the fact his creation is real, he ends up becoming a big ally to the team, mainly due to his knowledge about programming.

The Dark Network Fuguerror A mysterious glitchy being hidden within dark depths of cyberspace, he is a cruel, cunning, and yet oddly playful being, and is the one the Dark Network are trying to essentially complete, and summon him mainly via collecting Digi Data.

Belladonna

Leader of the generals and the one who founded the Dark Network group in the first place after discovering Fuguerror, a rather seductive and devious enchantress who is known for her self centered-ness, her love of making her presence known, and getting a kick out of seeing people enraged and essentially teasing her enemies, she's also known for her love of making very odd smelling (And toxic!) "perfume". Belladonna comes from the medieval beat em up game "Radira Fight Knights"

Doctor Serpentine

Riki the Rabbit's number one adversary and a rather dastardly mad scientist taking the form of a snake, he mostly tries to take down foes with the many robotic suits he builds, and he loves flaunting his intelligence skill in robotics, despite his aggressive way of speaking to others. Nikto

A rather cunning if rather short wizard. Nikto acts as a mediator between the villainous group and tends to try and take Belladonna down the peg a little, he's also very skilled at magic, especially when it comes to illusions and trickery which he often tries to take advantage of to his own benefits, and really doesn't like it when people make fun of his height. He is the main villain of the famous RPG "Valianta Quest V". Adalram

A Mysterious Swordsman with a wide set of tools, and a man who is a rather flirty soul who likes to use his wit and charm to recruit other villains to Dark Network's cause, but he is dedicated to protecting the other members, namely Miss Belladonna. He comes from the popular adventure game series "Secret Sword".

~~~ And do you think this is the only fanseries I have...No, I have another, a Ninja, family and Japanese mythology-based fanseries, that being... Doron! Kunoichi Precure!

I haven't made a logo for the fanseries yet and I don't have a lot of designs for it (Only the cures have been designed so far), so please bear with me.

For nineteen generations, the Kaminarimon school of ninjas have been protecting both Earth and the Celestial Plains from the Kagemashu Army of yokai, creatures who emerge from the shadowy depths of the underworld to cause fear and terror to those around them. But when it seemed that the nineteenth generation of ninja had finally sealed Nurarihyon and his army for good, one yokai ended up breaking the seal years later with the Kagemashu beginning their attacks again, with the current head of the Kaminarimon household Shosuke, and his daughter Tomoe beginning a plan to recruit some new legendary ninja to combat the new threat. And when a compassionate middle school girl named Shinobu Fuuno ends up stumbling upon a scroll hidden within the back of a shrine near the Kaminarimon household, and she ends up summoning five friendly spirits but ends up running into Nopperabo and the Kagemashu’s deadly monsters the Maganoke, however with the help of the Doron Commune she transforms into the legendary ninja of the wind, Cure Shippu! Protecting the Earth from evil, hiding deep within the shadows, now change! Precure let’s ninja GO!

Cures!

From left to right: Tomoe Kaminarimon, Fujiko Takayama, Shinobu Fuuno, Hiyori Hinomiya, Kozue Kobayashi

Shinobu Fuuno / Cure Shippu (Pink)

An airy girl with a love for Japanese Traditions as well as Samurai and Ninja Dramas (with her father being an actor in these drama’s himself in the past), she prefers not standing out among her classmates though can't help but run her mouth when she feels like it, but wants to find out what happened to her mother. Has the habit of saying “Feel the wind!” and as Cure Shippu, she wields the power of the wind.

Kozue Kobayashi / Cure Shinrin (Green)

A sensible, tall, reliable, and yet traditional girl akin to a Yamato Nadeshiko, Kozue is good at giving advice to others and is a geisha in training aside from her pretty cure duties and has a love for familiarity and making wagashi…However, she is a massive party animal and is terrible with technology, and such her fellow piers at her geisha training look down upon her because of it, and as Cure Shinrin, she wields the power of wood.

Hiyori Hinomiya / Cure Rekka (Red)

A Shrine Maiden working at a local shrine with a bit of a hot-blooded and passionate flair, she is skilled at archery and is very action-oriented, and can be a bit prideful and impulsive despite her being a bit responsible and mature. Is a bit jealous of Shinobu being the leader and has a habit of setting high standards for herself, mainly due to the fact she was chosen because her sister (Who was going to become a cure) had fallen ill at the time, and as Cure Rekka, she wields the power of fire.

Fujiko Takayama / Cure Gunzan (Blue)

A very emotional yet secretive and sensitive girl who is rather knowledgeable though with a bit of a hard shell, but can have her moments where she can get more than a bit dramatic, mainly because of her theater-loving background and has a soft spot for folklore, especially spirits, and yokai, and as Cure Gunzan she wields the power of the earth.

Tomoe Kaminarimon / Cure Raitei (Yellow)

The future head of the Kaminarimon household and a woman who acts as the mentor to the cures, and while she does have a rather cold and strict exterior, she actually has a rather adventurous and even unpredictable and spontaneous side to her, akin to that of lightning, which she wields as Cure Raitei.

Unfortunately, I only have basic ideas for the other characters currently. I'm planning on the mascots essentially being small spirit gods from the Celestial Plains which are ruled by the big good Amaterasu (Yes, the Shinto Sun Goddess herself). The villains I do have more ideas for, with them basically being a sort of criminal organization of Yokai with each general being based on one (The Nine-Tailed Fox, Tengu, Oni, etc.) with the big bad being Nurarihyon. But Aside from the cures I haven't designed em. ~~~ And that's all I have been mainly working on so far in terms of Fanseries, really hope you all have enjoyed reading this post, as much as I had fun making it.

See you later guys, gals, and enby pals alike!

#precure #pretty cure #fancuries #fancuries 2024 #fancuries fyc #pretty cure fanseries #precure fanseries #fanfiction #kisekae #magical girl #magical girl oc #oc writing #dollmaker #for your consideration

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fortunatetragedy · 1 month

Text

find the word!

hey @bookish-karina thank you for the tag <3

rules: find excerpts from your work(s)-in-progress with the given words. post them and tag your friends.

my words: loathe, swoon, knife, tattoo your words: blue, freeze, rough, mouth

i have come to tag:

@aintgonnatakethis @autism-purgatory

@byronicbi @borisyvain @deanwax

@noblebs @words-after-midnight

swoon comes from DMLS 1. i apologize for the third person present tense in a novel that's 90% past tense, it's intentional.

the other three are from the DMLS 2, which takes place prior to and overwrites the timeline in DMLS 1. there's implied violence and an unrelenting feeling of dread [in the form of unedited rough draft prose lolol].

since i don't use the words loathe or tattoo in 600+ pages i dipped into karina's and took strong and teeth

swoon:

"I'd keep the nine months we knew each other," Sullivan says, in a rush. Better to set a break quick than draw it out. "I have to. That's non-negotiable. It commenced in a manner I would change if I could, knowing, but I knew you were someone special the second we started talkin', Arthur. I gotta be able to remember that." Royston could swoon. After a moment to think, Sullivan adds, "Before the War, too. I gotta remember the War. That's where I met Erik. I can't not remember Erik. Or—" "You're not opening the damned door, man," Hofer interrupts.

knife:

And when the cavalry arrived, horses thundering on the ground outside, spurs and weapons, Sullivan slept right through that. Royston still had two of his throwing knives after fending off the Huston brothers, and his hunting knife, and his boot knife. Sullivan's saber. That hunting knife was hard against the small of his back. That saber hung off the left side of the cot, where Sullivan could reach cross-body to grab it with his right hand; his Peacemaker was on the right, for the same reason. Royston could keep Sullivan safe even if it wasn't the cavalry about to burst through the door.

strong:

Hofer considered this, and what it meant that what Royston had said made sense. "I… can't say as I could explain it, scientifically. But… thank you. Sincerely. I was able to do very little for him last time." If Royston lost the rhythm of their breathing, Sullivan would stumble and drop the line. Their connection was strong, and so was the pain. Royston dismissed Hofer with a nod and pressed his lips to Sullivan's unmarred temple. He'd saved him, this time. That's all that mattered.

teeth:

"Regardless, you will not be leaving with Corporal Reinhard at dawn. You will stay here and help me take care of—" Hofer almost said the mess you made. The thought of referring to Sullivan as a mess, whether he was referring to the injury and not the man himself, stopped Hofer's tongue. He worked his tongue into the spaces of his teeth where he could hide wanted barbs and tried again. "—of Cole. Gott already knows we're… doing this again. We asked her to speak to Clara in the event we... this happened. Is my recollection. Is that yours as well?" Royston took his own purposeful pause. Forced himself to enunciate clearer, at least for a few seconds. "If Mathis makes it to—" "He won't. Give me back my damned cigarette, would you?"

#tag game #find the word #doom metal love story #book 1 spoilers #book 2 spoilers

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ensemblestarscafe · 1 year

Text

EVERYONE > Epiphany <

Gender neutral reader TW/CW: I actually have no idea Order type: Vanilla Latte

Word count: 1636 Written by: Yeul Proofread: n/a Writer’s note: been a few days over the 1 year anniversary so cafe manager here will give yall something to eat, also kinda Knights centric and some very obvious favouritism with Anzu

1 year of a fever dream.

…All of them were fake.

“...ke up! (Y/n), you hear me?”

You wonder. You never wanted to wake up. Not face the harsh reality that was provided by mother nature.

Rustling on your bed you squint open your tired eyes.

A square room. A bed. A working table, and finally, your older sister.

“...Yes I do, (S/n).”

“Alright. Good. We need to leave now, the cafe needs to be opened you know?”

Right. The cafe. The small quaint cafe that you and your sister owned.

The small cafe that seemed to have gained so much popularity that people would start to find the little shop somewhere within the small dark yet warm streets.

Getting up from your bed, you change your clothes and brush your teeth, bringing your bag as you lock the door to your house.

“Thinking of which, should we move the cafe somewhere else? Customers have been coming in a lot lately, and there’s not enough space.”

You muse, and your sister nods in agreement.

“Yeah, but staying where we started 10 years ago by our parents bring the nostalgia, no?” she replies.

That was true. You were a wee little kid back then, unknowing of the new ‘world’ that would be given once you were 18.

Memories. Nice to know that we still remember.

Opening the cafe doors, the warmth of the orange lights turn on.

9:00 AM and your first customer walks in.

Familiar tousled orange hair, bright blue eyes… along with a dark black haired boy with sharp deep blue eyes.

“I’d like a Vanilla Latte, a Macchiato, an espresso shot, a hot chocolate, along with 2 croffles and 2 bagels please.”

That was one familiar voice.

Pressing the buttons on the cashier screen, you nod as you recheck the order.

“Alright, may I have your name?”

“Hidaka Hokuto.”

“Would you like your order to be taken out?”

The boy nods in replacement of a vocal reply.

“That will be 2800 yen.”

Taking out his wallet, he brings a 2000 yen note along with one 500 yen coin with three 100 yen coins.

Nodding, you press the onscreen keyboard, writing the dark haired boy’s name down.

“Your order will be ready soon, thank you for ordering!”

Taking the order out, you call your sister as she gets the food ready while you brew the drinks.

Hidaka Hokuto…

Hidaka… Hokuto?

You realise quite quickly that the ‘fantasy’ you dreamed of was actually real– and you definitely know these people. Very well in fact. You had ‘interacted’ with these two and you knew the orange haired’s name. Akehoshi Subaru. But if you said that out loud, they’d definitely find you odd, right?

A few minutes later, the food was done as well as the drinks.

Placing them at the small space to take the drinks, the dark haired boy walks up, taking the cups while the oranged haired boy takes the food.

The latter smiles as he shouts a short but warm, “Thank you!” as they both leave, the small bell chime jingling to produce a calm rhythm.

Many more people come in as they come and go– some similar, such as Aoba Tsumugi, Mikejima Madara, Oukawa Kohaku, Hasumi Keito, Shino Hajime, Hakaze Kaoru– where he tried flirting with you, keyword, tried– Aoi Hinata and Aoi Yuta, Kagehira Mika, Kazehaya Tatsumi, and the group of Ran Nagisa, Tomoe Hiyori, Saegusa Ibara and Sazanami Jun– which was basically about 90% of the people you had interacted with in your fantasy.

Others stayed at tables to talk and study. A few hours later, 14:50, a dark navy haired boy walks in as he stares at the menu. Then he checks his phone, and then he orders.

“May I have one hot Chocolate, one Vanilla Latte, one Mocha and one iced Americano?”

“Of course, that will be 1450 yen.”

He smiles as he brings out a debit card. You take it as you slide it over the card machine.

“Would you like it to go or in the cafe?”

“To go please.”

“Thank you for ordering! May I have your name?”

“Fushimi Yuzuru.”

Typing rapidly on the monitor, you nod as he walks to the small waiting place.

Thats another that I know… Fine, was it? I wonder if they’re idols here or just normal people, but judging from others’ reactions they all just seem to be one big group of friends…

Brewing the last of the order, you put them in the small cardboard boxes as you bring them where Yuzuru stands.

“Thank you very much.”

He smiles and leaves, the glass door chiming along with the small twittering of the birds outside.

Wonder who’s coming next…

A girl with milk chocolate hair and aquamarine blue eyes enter the cafe with care, as she walks towards the cashier.

“Hello, I’d like to have three hot Chocolates, one cappuccino, one Vanilla Latte, and one hot Americano please.”

“Alright, that will be 2100 yen. Would you like it to go or in the cafe?”

“To go please, heres the cash.”

Smiling, you take the cash as you put them in the box.

“May I have your name?”

“Anzu.”

“Thank you for ordering. Your order will be ready in a few!”

She smiles in appreciation as she settles on a small booth.

Your sister comes in as she brews the drinks while you greet another customer– a group.

The red haired walks up as he talks with his friends, then turns to you to order.

“Hello! May I have one hot Chocolate, one Vanilla Latte, one iced Americano, two Cappuccinos, two cupcakes and two croffles?”

“Of course. That will be 3350 yen. To go or in the cafe?”

“In the cafe please.”

He takes out a credit card as you take it and slide it over the card machine, the receipt being printed out slowly.

Taking the receipt and the card, you hand it over to the boy.

“May I have your name?”

“Suou Tsukasa.”

Typing it in, you nod as you smile.

“Your order will be ready in a while. Thank you for ordering!”

The group smiles as they walk over to a booth.

Meanwhile, Anzu’s order was done, and was set down at the counter.

Calling out her name but with no reply, to check up, only to find her dozing off at the wall.

…Should I wake her up…? But she’s so peaceful now…

Deciding on what to do, she wakes up, deep aquamarine like eyes blinking rapidly as she stares at your figure.

…She’s really pret– Woah (Y/n), focus on the job!

“...Oh, you’re awake– your order is ready!”

You hand her the drinks as she bows in reply, leaving the cafe in a tousled hurry.

And about 20 minutes later, all of the orders are done for the group of five– which you recognise as Suou Tsukasa, Tsukinaga Leo– happily drawing on the small cafe napkin– Sena Izumi, Sakuma Ritsu– dozing off– and Narukami Arashi, talking to her friends.

Setting the tray down, you walk over to the outer side of the counter as you bring the tray to the booth.

“Ah, thank you so much!”

You smile as you take the tray, setting it on the counter as you head back into the staff room.

Checking your phone, it shows as 20:25, which was 35 minutes close to closing time.

Your sister looks at your figure as she laughs in amusement, tone arch.

“Some of the customers seem very alike to your descriptions of people in your dreams, (Y/n).”

“They are them… their names are the same, its just their jobs that seem to be not… the same?”

She looks confused, but you understand. You’re confused too.

“Oh right, since it’s close to closing, we need to clean for tomorrow…”

Your sister mumbles.

Taking the broom, you and your sister head out to find Anzu outside of the cafe, soaked in rain.

Dropping your broom to your older sister, you open the door as you usher her in, bringing a soft dry towel. The five at the booth waves at her as she waves back.

While Anzu dries herself, you head to the booth where you find them starting to leave, putting the extra napkins as a pile.

“Thank you for visiting the cafe! However, it’s raining outside, so it’s best to stay in until it goes away.”

They smile as they nod, resuming to talking again as you take the cups and tissues back to the counter.

Leaving them for your sister to take care of, you check up on Anzu, seeing her in a better condition.

“You alright?”

“Yeah… thanks for letting me in…”

“(Y/n)”

“Mm… thanks, (Y/n)...”

Anzu nods in appreciation as she stares at you.

“I… I think I know you…?”

Anzu speaks.

Making a slightly surprised squeak, your head turns as you look at her.

“Me?”

She nods. Also confused, she stares more intensely, as she analyses your face.

“Yeah. I think I do, I’ve seen you in my dreams… it doesn’t make sense, but it does…”

Thats the same predicament I’m having today…

“Quite the same if I say so myself, 90% of my customers were people I’m familiar with in my dreams…”

You gesture over to the five.

Anzu nods as she looks over, her eyes widening as she looks back at you.

“They’re my friends, and they texted me a few minutes ago that they thought they recognised you…” she continues, “Quite odd, right?”

“Odd but nice to know I’m not the only one.” You chuckle.

The street lights seem to flicker in glee when you two approach the five.

Conversing, you feel as if you stand in a moment of epiphany that you weren’t the only one.

#yeul's orders #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #enstars x y/n #enstars x you #enstars headcannons #enstars fluff #enstars #esworks

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thisisrealy2kok · 7 months

Link

#art #cyberdog #design #fashion #yqueuek

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justforbooks · 1 year

Photo

The dapper and sagacious Ahmad Jamal may have looked more like a UN delegate than a jazz musician, but he was recognised as a truly great jazz artist by some of the music’s most notable pioneers. Jamal, who has died aged 92, was hailed in the 1940s and 50s by Art Tatum and Miles Davis, and more recently by McCoy Tyner and Keith Jarrett. In the 90s, when a jazz piano-trio renaissance was being led by gifted newcomers such as Brad Mehldau, Jason Moran, Geri Allen and Esbjörn Svensson, Jamal did not retire to the sidelines but played better than ever. The former Wynton Marsalis pianist and composer Eric Reed has said that Jamal is to the piano trio “what Thomas Edison was to electricity”.

He was a fascinating philosopher of contemporary music and a lifelong critic of the entertainment business, which he accused of fleecing African-American artists. Although he recognised the structural and technical distinctions of jazz and European classical music, he was adamant that there was no superiority of one over the other in what he called “the emotional dimensions”. “You have to know what the hell you’re doing,” he told me in 1996, “whether you’re playing the body of work from Europe or the body of work from Louis Armstrong.”

Jamal was born Frederick Jones in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and regarded the eclectic musical culture of his birthplace as crucial to his development. His father was an open-hearth worker in the steel mills, but his uncle Lawrence played the piano and at only three years old Jamal was copying his playing by ear. He took lessons from seven, and would recall “studying Mozart along with Art Tatum”, unaware of white society’s widespread prejudice that European music was supposed to be superior to that of African-Americans. Significant influences in his early years were the music teacher Mary Cardwell Dawson (founder of the National Negro Opera Company), and his aunt Louise, who showered him with sheet music for the popular songs of the day. Pianists Tatum, Nat King Cole and Erroll Garner were among the young “Fritz” Jones’s principal jazz influences, and he also studied piano with James Miller at Westinghouse high school.

At 17 he toured with the former Westinghouse student George Hudson’s Count Basie-influenced orchestra, worked in a song-and-dance team, and wrote one of his most enduring themes, Ahmad’s Blues, at 18. Two years later he adopted Islam, and the name Ahmad Jamal. He also joined a group called the Four Strings, which became the Three Strings with the departure of its violinist, and caught the ear of the talent-spotting producer John Hammond, who signed the trio to Columbia’s Okeh label.

The public liked Jamal’s distinctive treatments of popular songs, and so did Davis. Developing his new quintet in 1955, Davis sent his rhythm section to study Jamal’s then drummer-less group. Davis liked Jamal’s pacing and use of space (the prevailing bebop jazz style was usually hyperactive), and he noticed that Jamal’s guitarist, Ray Crawford, often tapped the body of his instrument on the fourth beat. Davis told his drummer, Philly Joe Jones, to copy the effect with a fourth-beat rimshot, which became a characteristic sound of that ultra-hip Davis ensemble. Davis began to feature Jamal’s originals and arrangements in his own output, including New Rhumba (on his 1957 Miles Ahead collaboration with Gil Evans), and Billy Boy (on 1958’s classic Milestones session).

The gifted young Chicago bassist Israel Crosby joined the trio in 1955, and the following year the percussionist Vernel Fournier – who fulfilled Jamal’s requirements for a subtle hand-drummer as well as orthodox sticks-player – replaced Crawford. The group became the house band at the Pershing Hotel in Chicago, and one night in January 1958 they recorded more than 40 tracks there. One was Poinciana, which had been a hit tune from the 1952 movie Dreamboat. Jamal modernised its Latin groove, maintained a catchy hook throughout the improvisation, and found himself with a pop hit that stayed in the charts for two years.

Eight songs from that night, including Poinciana, made up the million-selling album At the Pershing: But Not for Me. Jamal’s newfound wealth led him to branch out into club ownership by opening the Alhambra in Chicago, though the venture barely lasted a year. Crosby and Fournier left for the pianist George Shearing’s group in 1962, and Jamal recorded the Latin-influenced Macanudo album the next year, with a new trio and a full orchestra. He also explored his cultural and ancestral roots in Africa, then recorded Heat Wave in 1966 – with a new group (Jamil Nasser on bass and Frank Gant on drums) and a more contemporary feel, reflected in the funkier approach to his old piano hero Garner’s Misty.

Jamal’s knack of keeping audiences mesmerised with unexpected modulations, time changes and catchy riffs, while never losing the undercurrent of the tune, was still unmistakably intact. His trademark device of insinuating a song – through toying with its bassline or its characteristic groove, but endlessly delaying the appearance of the tune – was adopted by many later jazz pianists, including such contemporary masters as Mehldau.

In 1970 Jamal recorded Johnny Mandel’s M*A*S*H theme for the movie’s soundtrack, and with the albums Jamaica (in 1974, which included Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man as well as M*A*S*H) and Intervals (1979, which included a Steely Dan cover), showed he was not averse to toying with pop forms and even electric pianos. But he soon returned to the jazz of his roots. In 1982 he made the live album American Classical Music (it was the term he always preferred to the word “jazz”), sustained a steady output through the decade, and with Chicago Revisited (1992) sounded as assured and inventive as ever.

Now in his 60s, Jamal began to develop a higher profile in Europe. Sessions for the Dreyfus label in France led to The Essence (issued in three parts in the 90s), and found him in full flight with the saxophonists George Coleman and Stanley Turrentine and the trumpeter Donald Byrd. In 1995 his version of Music, Music, Music and the original take of Poinciana were featured in the Clint Eastwood film The Bridges of Madison County. He made what he regarded as one of his best recordings with Live in Paris 1996 (featuring Coleman again), and returned to the city to celebrate his 70th birthday in 2000 with Coleman; he was in inspired form on what would be released as the album A l’Olympia (2001).

With the exciting James Cammack on bass and Idris Muhammad on drums, Jamal’s composing blossomed. Striking originals dominated his 2003 album In Search of Momentum, and he even made a faintly stagey but soulful foray into singing, amid a raft of virtuoso keyboard displays, on After Fajr (2005).

Jamal’s alertness to an irresistible riff, like his keyboard contemporary Herbie Hancock’s, made him a favourite with hip-hop artists, and De La Soul’s Stakes Is High and Nas’s The World Is Yours were among many unmistakable testaments to that. Mosaic Records’ nine-CD set of his game-changing work in the late 1950s and early 60s was released in 2011, his group made a spectacular live appearance in London in 2014, and his last album releases came in 2022 with Emerald City Nights: Live at the Penthouse, parts one and two, featuring live recordings made in Seattle during the 60s. A third in the series is due for release this year.

Jamal was married and divorced three times – to Virginia Wilkins, Sharifah Frazier and Laura Hess-Hay. He is survived by a daughter, Sumayah, from his second marriage, and two grandchildren.

🔔 Ahmad Jamal (Frederick Russell Jones), musician, born 2 July 1930; died 16 April 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Ahmad Jamal #in memoriam

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