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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

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you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name.

i knew from the first note played i’d be breaking all my rules to see you. you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name. so dim that spotlight, tell me things like “i can’t take my eyes off of you.” i’m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl who’s desperately in love with you. give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.

Eddie has three major rules when it comes to working with celebrities: 1. don’t flirt with the talent; 2. don’t hang out with the talent; 3. don’t, under any circumstances, fuck the talent.

He’s had enough rockstars’ managers kick him out of hotel rooms after waking up to an empty bed with cold sheets to have learned his lesson ten times over by now.

He doesn’t even think of adding a fourth rule: don’t fall in love with the talent. Has never even come close to needing a rule like that. Not until he meets Steve Harrington.

~*~

“Ed, I got a new one for ya, he’ll be here at two,” Eddie’s boss Murray says from the open doorway of Eddie’s office.

“Huh?” Eddie eloquently responds, mouth full of the banana he’d found in the office kitchen for lunch. “What?”

Murray rolls his eyes. He gets endlessly annoyed when it turns out no one can read his mind.

“New singer-songwriter coming in at two, asked for you specifically. Working on his second album, so look alive.” Murray tosses a demo in Eddie’s direction before departing the office and moving down the hallway towards his own. Eddie barely catches it just before the plastic corner gets him right in the eye.

This is the problem with Murray. He gives no details and leaves absolutely no room for follow-up questions. The other problem with Murray is that he waits until the last minute to spring shit on Eddie that he knows Eddie’s not going to like.

Eddie flips the plastic CD case around in his hand so he can read the words written in Sharpie on the front. ‘S. H. - 2’ is all it says, giving him absolutely no information. It’s already ten to two, so Eddie doesn’t even have time to listen to a single song if he wants to make it up the two floors to the conference room where he usually meets with the talent for the first time. Eddie scowls in annoyance; he hates being unprepared and he just knows Murray is conspiring against him somehow.

Eddie pushes up from his desk and leaves his office, heading for the elevator. He pressed the button for the 42nd floor. He likes to play this game where he tries to hold his breath for the duration of the elevator ride. Two floors is easy. The ride up to the 40th floor is a lot harder.

By the time Eddie makes it to the conference room, his appointment’s already in there. As he walks through the glass doors, he realizes that when Murray said “new,” he didn’t actually mean new. He meant, like, new to them.

Because sitting in the conference room at the head of the table is former boy band heartthrob Steve Harrington.

~*~

Eddie had never had Steve’s poster on his wall in high school or anything embarrassing like that, thank god. But he had kept one of the pages he’d ripped out of the library’s copy of Tiger Beat folded under his mattress for early morning daydreaming. And Eddie had certainly never listened to his music when he’d been in Teeny Boppers United or whatever the hell his band of cookie cutter boy-next-door types was called (he definitely knew).

Now, here Harrington is, sitting across the table from him, hair full of blond highlights and cherry lipgloss (Eddie thinks, imagines, hopes) on his lips.

“Um, hi. I’m, uh, Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson,” Eddie holds out his hand for Steve to shake and Steve does. Eddie tells himself he’s imagining the way Steve’s eyes linger on him and how he takes just a second too long to pull his hand away.

Steve smiles, blinding and perfectly white. “Yeah, man, I know. My friend Robin has worked with you before? She had real great things to say,” Steve tells him and he sounds more sincere than a former-pop star asshole has any right to be.

“Buckley?” Eddie asks surprised, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, she’s been a huge help with my solo stuff. She co-wrote a few of the songs on my first album.” Steve drums his fingertips on the thick wood of the table.

“Huh.” The sound leaves Eddie against his will, as he’s trying to mask his surprise. Robin Buckley was talented and she had a sound that Eddie would never guess Steve Harrington would be into. She was indie, for sure, almost folk, bordering on a breathy country sound that Eddie thinks she’d deny if she heard him describe her like that. “I’m not entirely sure I’m what you’re looking for, to be honest with you.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He has no idea what Harrington’s sound is now that he’s broken free of the teenage bubblegum scene. But he’s always had a self-sabotaging streak a mile wide and he feels both relieved and disappointed to potentially have this out.

Steve frowns slightly, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Did you listen to the demo? I actually have this one song and I’m struggling with the bridge and, you know, not to, like, geek out or fan girl or whatever, but I’m, like, so into your sound and your lyrics and just the way you can construct a metaphor that seems so obvious when you hear it but is still so surprising in the context of the song it’s in and I think it would really complement what I’ve already started and…” Steve’s been gesturing wildly with his hands and must realize he’s rambling, because he trails off, blushing. “I mean. Did you listen?” He asks again.

“Honestly, Murray only just told me about this meeting about ten minutes before it started,” Eddie shrugs, but he feels bad about the way Steve’s shoulders fall.

“Ah, okay,” Steve pushes back from the table. “Yeah, okay. No worries.”

And Eddie feels, like, not great about this. He doesn’t like the disappointment he can see etched across Steve’s handsome features. So he reaches a hand across the vast wooden table, gesturing for Steve to stop.

“Wait,” he says, hand raised between them. “Listen, I’m… skeptical, to say the least. But. I’ll listen to your demo tonight, okay? And I’ll let you know what I think tomorrow. Is that… does that work?”

Steve nods quickly. “Yeah, dude. Yeah, that’s awesome. Thank you. Um. Do you… did Murray give you my number?”

“Here,” Eddie slides his notebook and pen across the table.

Steve picks up the pen, scrawling across the entire notebook page, before sliding it back toward Eddie. “My, uh, personal number.” Steve runs as hand through his highlighted hair. “I’m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks, Eddie.” He reaches out again to shake Eddie’s hand and this time, Eddie knows he doesn’t imagine the way Steve’s fingers linger on his palm.

Eddie clears his throat. “Talk soon,” he says, smiling, before Steve is turning and leaving the room.

~*~

Eddie had gone to LA with stars in his eyes and big dreams circling his head. He’d had hopes of making it big, of thousands of people screaming his name. It had sounded so good back then, when he'd been trailer trash in the smallest, most close-minded town in the American Midwest. And it had kind of happened. He’d recorded an entire album, had even had a national tour. But he’d realized fairly quickly that it wasn’t what he’d really wanted. Performing was fun, but what he really cared about was the song-writing. The way a perfectly constructed verse could speak to someone, on a deep, intimate, important level. That’s why he cared about music, that’s why it had always been so important to him. It wasn't the performing or the flashing bulbs of cameras or the after parties filled with people who wanted to get close to fame. It was the songs. It was the words and the meanings behind them. It was what it all meant, down to the end of it all.

So Eddie had changed course. He’d begun song-writing instead, freelancing at first, selling a song here and a collab there. Until he’d been approached by Murray Bauman, who’d heard what he’d done on a Taylor Swift track and was impressed. Murray had offered him a job in New York, writing and producing, an office and a salary for the first time in his life. And Eddie loved what he got to do now, loved the tracks he produced for other people to sing. He’d thought it would feel strange, like he was missing out on something, but it didn’t. It just felt good.

That had been five years ago and now here he is, sliding Steve Harrington’s demo into the CD player in his living room. He presses play and crosses the room to grab a beer from his kitchen. Just as he's crossing the threshold between rooms, he hears the first three notes of the song and it stops him in his tracks. He tilts his head back toward the stereo.

Because the song isn't the sound of a boy band lead gone solo, belting out pop lyrics that would guarantee major radio play. This song is soft and melancholy, the poetic lyrics of a chorus crafted with vulnerability, a complicated bridge that ties it all together. The song ends and shifts, the guitar twang taking on a pop rock tempo, more upbeat than the last song. Steve's voice comes out, deep and honey-sweet, different than his boy band days. The lyrics are still sadder than Eddie would have thought and Eddie's impressed by the words juxtaposed with the upbeat instrumentals and the tone of Steve's vocals.

Eddie listens to all four songs standing there in the doorway between his living room and kitchen. Can't bear to tear himself away. And when the fourth and final song is over, Eddie crosses the room to click 'play' all over again.

~*~

Eddie waits to call Steve. He wants to call him immediately after his third listen, but he figures that it would be a bad idea to interrupt a client’s dinner or date or whatever former pop stars do on Thursday nights.

He spends all day at the office the next day listening to Steve’s first album on repeat. He thinks he can tell where Robin had helped with the lyrics, can see the ways the two of them have come together, and he can hear how their voices complement each other on the track she’s featured on. He listens to it on repeat for hours, before swapping it out for the new demo all over again. He thinks he can trace the way Steve’s voice has evolved since the first album, can see the places where his song-writing has matured. He spends the weekend deconstructing each song, finding the spots of vulnerability and the developed self-confidence that allows that vulnerability to take center stage. He feels a little guilty for not calling Steve, but he can’t imagine Steve’s sitting by the phone or anything anyway.

But the end of the weekend, Eddie knows he can’t say no to Steve Harrington. He knows that he has to be a part of this album, no matter what. That this project is going to be something magical, something unimaginable.

First thing Monday morning, Eddie calls Steve and makes a deal.

~*~

“Fuck, you have no idea how happy I am to hear from you,” Eddie hears Steve breathe down the phone line. “I’m such a huge fan and hearing what you did with Robin… I was worried you were gonna say no, y’know? When I didn’t hear from you?”

Eddie smiles to himself, small and involuntary. He’d never thought he’d hear Steve Harrington sounding so earnest.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was just about ready to say no.” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and then shifts his phone from one ear to the other. “But I gave your demo a listen and I revisited your first album and I gotta tell you, I think there’s something really special there. I’m excited to see what we come up with.” He’s downplaying this, he knows it, but he doesn’t want to seem too eager. He doesn’t want Steve to know that he’ll probably die if he doesn’t get to work on this album. That’s probably a little too over dramatic, even for Eddie.

He hears Steve suck in a breath, can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “Dude, thank you. I’m so excited. This means a lot to me. Thanks, man.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna have my assistant call you in a few days to set up some meetings and get everything worked out, timeline-wise. I’ll be in touch soon.” Eddie has to get off the phone now, before he says something dumb as fuck.

“Awesome. Thanks again, Eddie,” Steve replies, before there’s nothing but a dial tone.

~*~

Eddie has Chrissy set up all the meetings, scheduling studio time and booking out the conference room.

For months, Eddie’s life revolves around Steve Harrington. All he can think about are what chord progressions will have Steve’s voice sounding its best, all heavy and sweet, or what rhyme scheme the chorus should have to enhance its emotional tenor in the way Steve wants.

They record together, Steve in the booth and Eddie at the console. Sometimes Robin joins them, happy to take on second guitar and suggest a new phrasing for a line that’s giving them trouble.

Steve enlists the same band he’d used on his first album and Eddie’s kind of impressed by how well they all seem to get along. How committed they are to helping Steve figure out the vision for this album.

Towards the end of recording—long months spent trying new things, taking out second guitar here, adding a keyboard track in there—Steve convinces Eddie to play lead guitar on one of the tracks they wrote together. It’s one of the unfinished ones from the demo Eddie had been so enchanted by, the one that Steve had said was giving him trouble on the bridge. They’d spent long nights in Eddie’s office ordering late-night pizzas and trying to figure out how to make the song work. Eddie was so frustrated he was about to suggest they just scrap the whole thing until Steve started drumming on one of the discarded pizza boxes, humming along with a switched-up melody, a reversal of what they already had, a dramatic shift from chorus to bridge and back again. Eddie couldn’t do anything but stare and then the words were coming, Steve finishing his sentences when Eddie stumbled searching for the right word. By morning, the song was finished.

Eddie agrees to play, if only because he loves the song so much, so proud of the work they’d put into it. It has nothing to do with the way Steve’s sweet smile spreads over his face or the faint pinkness Eddie can see rising in his cheeks. In the end, Eddie’s even convinced to lend his vocals to the song. He doesn’t let himself think about how good they sound together, Steve’s deep voice belting out the lyrics with Eddie’s softer cadence just underneath.

~*~

Steve goes out on tour almost immediately after they finish recording. The record label says there’s so much buzz around the album, so much anticipation, that they should strike while the iron is hot.

“Don’t forget about me out there on the road,” Eddie jokes, voice light and airy. He and Steve are at his favorite coffee shop, just down the street from his offices.

“Could never,” Steve tells him, smiling, tone just on the wrong side of serious. He takes a sip of his coffee.

They’ve been dancing around each other for months, probably since they’d started recording if Eddie’s really honest with himself. But Eddie has rules and he’s been burned before. So when they’ve finished their coffee, they part ways. Eddie wishes Steve luck on his tour and Steve says he’ll be in touch.

Eddie’s life goes back to normal.

~*~

They text sporadically. Eddie doesn’t mind. He remembers how chaotic and stressful tour had been when he’d done it and he hadn’t been nearly as huge as Steve is now. Eddie knows it’s an endless parade of meet-and-greets and sound checks and dress rehearsals, one day blending into another. He’s surprised Steve even reaches out to him at all.

Steve is set to perform the last show of his tour at Madison Square Garden. Eddie thinks about showing up, grabbing the free tickets he gets as part of the job and surprising Steve. He thinks about it a lot actually, all five months Steve’s gone, fantasizes about how Steve might greet him, how he’d pull him into the green room backstage and…

A week before the show, Steve calls him.

“Hey, man!” Steve sounds winded and breathy. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know, same old same old.” Eddie tries to sound as casual as possible, but he can’t control the grin that spreads across his lips.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, listen, I only have a minute, but I was wondering if you’d be open to, uh. Coming to my show at the Garden?” Eddie thinks he might be imagining the nervous lilt to Steve’s voice, the unsure way he poses the question.

“Yeah, man, of course. I’d love to be there.”

“Great! I’ll text you the details.” Eddie doesn’t even have time to say goodbye before Steve has hung up on him.

~*~

The night of the concert, Eddie shows up backstage, feeling just a little out of place. He’d bypassed the front of house, but he hadn’t missed the line of young women and girls snaking out of the venue doors and onto the streets of Manhattan. He had known Steve was big, but he hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

A woman with short blonde hair leads Eddie into the green room. Steve’s getting his makeup done, but when he sees Eddie in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes light up and he smiles, wide and goofy. He pushes up from his chair and crosses the room, moving to pull Eddie into a hug before Eddie can even say anything, arms looped around Eddie’s neck. Steve is warm against him, his muscles firm and soft—a strange juxtaposition—as Eddie wraps his own arms around Steve’s waist.

“So happy you’re here,” Steve whispers against his ear, breath hot. Eddie can’t even react before Steve’s pulling away, crossing back over to his chair and dropping himself into it. Steve looks at Eddie in the reflection, their eyes meeting. “I have a favor to ask.” Steve suddenly sounds hesitant, fingers fidgeting in his lap.

“Oh, no,” Eddie jokes, winking at Steve in the mirror. “What is it this time?”

Steve blushes. “I know you don’t really perform anymore, but I was hoping you’d help me out with our song? It’s the last song of the show.”

The words our song echo in Eddie’s ears and he can’t help his smile. Sure, he doesn’t really perform anymore, but, he realizes in this moment, he’d do pretty much anything for Steve. The thought should be terrifying, but somehow it isn’t.

“Dude, that’s awesome.” Eddie watches Steve practically sag in relief. “I’d love to.”

Before long, Steve is being rushed around, manhandled on his way to the stage, and Eddie is left to follow behind so he can watch from the wings.

Eddie had thought he’d known Steve. They’d written and recorded together for months, felt every emotion possible in the time it had taken them to complete the album. But watching Steve perform is something else entirely. Steve glows under the harsh stage lights, smiling and charismatic as he jokes with the girls in the front row vying for his attention. It’s magical to watch Steve perform the songs they’d made together, to sing words from Eddie’s own brain. Eddie is transfixed by the way Steve’s lips wrap around each note, like each word that comes out of his mouth is the most important word that’s ever been spoken. Steve is otherworldly on stage.

“For the last song, I have a surprise,” Steve stops in front of the mic stand as someone rushes to bring him his favorite guitar. He pulls the strap over his head. Someone on the side of the stage nudges Eddie, holding out a guitar that Eddie’s never seen before. If he’d known about this, he would have brought his own beloved sweetheart, but he’ll have to make do with what he has. No backing out now. “You’ve probably heard of Eddie Munson.” Steve smiles as the crowd cheers. “Yeah, he’s a huge deal. He’s worked with everyone from Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers to Bruce Springsteen and Metallica.” The crowd cheers again. “I worked really closely with him on this album,” Steve smiles. “And he took something raw and messy and made it so fucking great.” The crowd screams. “I always close the show with my favorite song off the album. It’s the one that took us the longest to write. We were so frustrated, I thought Eddie was gonna tell me to just forget it. We spent so many all-nighters stuffing our faces with pizza and cursing ourselves for ever even thinking we should write this stupid fucking song.” Steve laughs with the crowd. “But then, one night it all clicked. It all came together. It was like magic, sitting there with Eddie on some ugly couch in his office, just about ready to give up. We made magic together.” Steve looks out at the crowd. “So. Eddie’s here to help me share this song with you.” The crowd goes wild as someone pushes Eddie out onto the stage, but Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Steve, who’s smiling at him from under the lights, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Playing the song is easier than Eddie had thought it would be. The notes come to him like muscle memory, like he could play this song in his sleep. He can’t take his attention away from Steve where he sings into the microphone. It’s all too much for his heart to handle. He feels like he might die here, right on the spot.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it’s all over. The crowd is deafening and Eddie’s got a smile on his face so wide his cheeks ache. Steve waves to the crowd before taking Eddie’s hand and leading him off stage.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, pulling Eddie along down the backstage hallways back towards the green room. “That was un-fucking-real.” Steve’s smiling, cheeks red.

Eddie can’t say anything at all. All he can do is follow helplessly behind Steve, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His heartbeat so loud he’s sure Steve can hear it.

They’re back in the green room before Eddie can even blink. Suddenly, his back is pressed up against the closed door, Steve practically plastered to his front. He can barely breathe as Steve’s lips crash into his.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pulling back slightly. His breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “Been thinking about you for months.” His voice is soft, barely there.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie groans, running a hand through Steve’s hair, trying to pull him back in. “It’s so okay, Stevie.”

Steve lets out a groan of his own and then he’s kissing Eddie again, lips parting and tongue curling against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s not sure how long they stand there pressed up against the wall, hands tangled in hair, kissing each other breathless. All too soon a knock comes from the other side of the door and they jump apart.

“Steve?” A muffled voice calls out from the hallway. “You have a meet-and-greet in five.”

Steve looks at Eddie, laughing a little. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot,” he whispers, before raising his voice to respond to whoever’s outside, “Okay, just a minute!” He kisses Eddie one last time, soft and so sweet. “Come with me?” He asks.

Eddie nods and follows after Steve.

~*~

Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve takes picture after picture. It’s kind of uncanny, the way Steve’s smile seems genuine in every photo he takes, the interest he seems to take in every person who comes to meet him.

The line has dwindled down when the next group of fans catch sight of Eddie in the shadows. “Oh my god!” One of the girls squeals, before turning toward Steve. “Can we get a picture with you and Eddie?”

Steve laughs, already nodding, before turning towards Eddie. “You mind?” He asks, holding his hand out for Eddie. Eddie slides his hand into Steve’s and has his picture taken.

~*~

After, Steve invites Eddie back to his fancy hotel room, but Eddie counters by inviting Steve to his apartment. Steve’s face brightens, clearly excited to see where Eddie lives. Eddie tries to mentally envision how he’d left his apartment, thinks it’s probably safe for world-famous superstars to visit.

They take Steve’s car, his driver dutifully ignoring whatever’s going on in the back seat, and by the time they make it up the six floors to Eddie’s door, they can’t keep their hands off each other. They crash through the front door, attached at the lips. They stumble down the hallway to Eddie’s bedroom and Eddie all but tackles Steve down into the sheets.

The next morning, Steve insists on making a homemade breakfast. Eddie rarely cooks, but by some miracle, he’s got eggs and bacon in his fridge. Eddie knows he’s got a dopey look on his face as he sits at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, watching Steve move around his space.

Later, when they’re curled up together on the couch and Steve is dozing against his chest, Eddie scrolls through his Instagram feed. He’s tagged in a ton of photos from the night before, up on stage with Steve, eyes fixed on each other as they play their guitars, crisscrossing beams of light all around them. He scrolls for a few more moments, before he sees the picture they’d taken together at the meet-and-greet, with the three girls who’d asked for a picture with Steve and Eddie. Steve’s blushing, his hand still holding Eddie’s, a wide smile on his face. Eddie’s just as flushed, eyes glassy, but he’s not even looking at the camera, face turned toward Steve instead. He looks lovestruck. It would be embarrassing, but Steve shifts in his arms, letting out a tiny little sound from the back of his throat.

Eddie screenshots the photo and saves it to his camera roll.

~*~

@thecaptainsgingersnap gave me “dealer's choice lyrics from Superstar” :)

This turned out waaaaayyyyyyy longer than I originally planned, so I probably should’ve split it into two posts, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!!

#in this universe eddie munson co-wrote tolerate it #i know what song they wrote together but I’m keeping it to myself lol #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fluff #steddie fic rec #steve harrington x eddie munson

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sweetsweetjellybean · 8 months

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In a city the size of Chicago, Eddie should be easy to avoid. Or maybe the city isn't as big as you thought?

Masterlist Listen to Sour Girl Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:6558 beta'd by @superblysubpar

Plink.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The old wooden frame of your window groans against the track, burdened with too many layers of paint to make the slide smooth. The swirls of creamy pinks and oranges have faded hours ago into the star-lit summer sky. The boy is below, standing in your backyard, fist full of pea gravel taken from a neighbor's garden. A smile twisting his lips lifts his cheeks, putting dimples on full display as he looks up at you from the darkness below. You raise a finger, signaling for him to wait before you turn away. Tossing a few things in your empty backpack, you take a pillow from your bed, and your comforter is wrestled free from the mattress. With careful footsteps, you creep down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen. The light from the fridge casts a triangle across the floor as you take a few Capri Suns to add to your bag. Leaving through the slider, the end of your blanket trails behind you through the grass that was trimmed that morning. You slip off your flip-flops, leaving them beside a pair of larger, well-worn sneakers with a chain wallet tucked inside the right shoe. Eddie bounces on the trampoline, his sock-covered feet launching him into the air, arms stretched for balance. You toss everything on before climbing on with him. With a final bounce, he lands on his butt beside you, grinning.

“I got it,” you tell him, tossing the pillow behind you.

“Nah-uh.”

"My dad took me to Tower this afternoon." Rummaging in your pack, you pull out a Discman and over-the-ear headphones with the cord in a tangled mess. "I could only get two. I had to choose between Rage," you begin, ticking off album titles on your fingers, “Soundgarden, STP, and Pearl Jam.”

“And?”

Taking out the CDs, you press them against his chest, letting go as soon as his fingers go around them. His brown eyes widen as he examines what’s in his hands as you pick apart the knotted cord.

“Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop AND Down on the Upside? You haven’t even opened this one.” He holds up the Soundgarden CD before using his teeth to rip open the cellophane covering the plastic case.

“I waited for you.” You smile.

His face softens. “You’re a doll.”

He lies back, his head nestling into your pillow, hands clasped behind his head, gazing up at the sky. After putting the CD into the player, you follow him, pulling the comforter over you both and resting your head on his bicep. The headphone speakers are flipped out, tucked between you, as Chris Cornell's melancholic voice begins to seep into your ears, velvety and dark like the night itself.

"Listen to this transition," he insists, his voice filled with the same awe that it always does when he talks about music, "The shift from acoustic to electric guitar is seamless."

“I wish I could hear it the way you do.”

As you gaze skyward, a slender branch sways in perfect rhythm with the chords, green leaves fluttering with the bass. The stars multiply and shimmer as if they’re caught up in the flow of the song.

“You do,” he says, his head turning toward you, “You’re the only one I know who loves it as much as I do.” He studies your face, his eyes locking with yours. The music building until it’s too intense, and he looks away. “It’s lyrics that hook you. You’ve always got so many words floating around in that big brain of yours.”

The disc spins, and you both listen, the scent of lilacs wafting in on the breeze, and fireflies painting the sky with their gentle glow. Time passes in the slow way it only does for kids on a cool summer night.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He answers, eyes closed.

“Are they fighting again?”

He doesn’t talk about it, but everyone knows—an ugly secret festering on an otherwise picture-perfect street. No one wants to get their hands dirty by getting involved.

“Why won’t she leave him?” A simple question in a world of black and white.

“I want her to,” his adams apple bobs as he swallows, “She says she loves him.”

“Just stay here with me tonight, okay?” Rolling to your side, you wrap your hand across his chest, offering him the only protection that you can.

“Yeah, okay.”

When you wake the following morning, the songs and memories you were reacquainted with last night have faded to a dull throb–much like the martinis. But remnants of their lyrics persist, crawling under your skin, irritating like an itch, a tune hummed without the words to accompany it. Your phone’s screen lights up with an incoming text, the short burst of vibration sending it skittering across the surface of your nightstand. It takes a moment for your bleary eyes to focus on the notification on your lock screen.

Unknown: I admit last night could have gone better. Let me make it up to you. Coffee?

After tapping in your passcode, you open the message app to reply.

You: Wrong number

Darkening your screen, you let your phone slip from your hand onto the bed beside you. With a sigh, you lean back, staring at the ceiling, seeking answers that remain elusive. The scent of brewing dark roast and toasting bagels rises up the stairs with the sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen. A cup of coffee (or five) and a shower is what you need to wash away the past and leave it firmly where it belongs– in your rearview.

It's the bottom of your second cup when Steve walks into your massive walk-in closet with a towel wrapped around his waist, fresh from the shower, his hair still damp, the freckled skin of his chest looking golden in the soft glow of the elegant pendant lights.

“Is that what you're wearing to work?” He asks.

“Um, yeah.” You finish buckling the strap of your chunky mary-janes. “Something wrong with it?” you ask, catching sight of yourself in the mirror, dark distressed jeans and a band tee recut into a fitted v-neck.

“Of course not,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair before sitting down heavily on the leather bench. His shoulders slump as he looks across to the cherry built-in shelves holding the rows of tailored suits hung by progression of color. “You always look beautiful.”

Taking your watch from the marble top of the large center island, you wander over to where he’s seated. He hooks a finger into one of the large holes in your jeans, tugging you over to stand between his legs, his big hands wrapping around the backs of your thighs.

“Guess I’m just missing the days of wearing jeans and a jersey to work,” he says, his smile not smoothing the faint crease in his brows.

“You traded that in for a car service and a big fat paycheck,” you point out, kissing the top of his head and moving back to your side of the closet to select a blazer.

“How else am I going to keep spoiling you?” He stands, dropping the towel and picking up the black Tom Ford boxer briefs he set out before his shower.

“Steve, I don’t need all of this,” your hand sweeps in the air, gesturing to the lit shelves holding more clothes and shoes than you could ever need. “Just take me to a concert every once in a while.” Your voice trails off as notification chimes on your phone.

Unknown: Nice try, doll. Robin gave me your number.

“Can you imagine if we were still in that cramped apartment in Lincoln Park?” He scoffs, pulling on a light gray pair of suit pants. “We were tripping over all our stuff.”

Steve found the three-bedroom, three-bath brownstone on a tree-lined street in the ritzy Gold Coast neighborhood just after he got promoted from Metro, marking the beginning of his rise up the ranks in Second City Media. He spent a year and a chunk of his trust fund on a meticulous renovation before the two of you moved in. It is beautiful—large air rooms with lofty ceilings adorned with pristine white crown molding and wainscotting throughout, giving a modern but classic feel. Living with so much space is lavish in a city of this size. But you would be just as happy back on that ratty couch in Lincoln Park, drinking beer straight from the bottle and eating pizza without the fuss of plates, working on your laptop while he watched a Cubs game. Steve is driven–determined to be a success, and he is, but with the money came the stress. And it’s taking a toll.

Your finger hovers over the block button, but you press add to contacts instead. “Hey,” you change the subject, slipping your phone into your jacket pocket, “Did you ever look into that sailing charter you wanted to book out at the lake? We could do that this weekend?”

“I wish I could, Ace. I’ve got those weekend meetings about the streaming radio we're trying to launch. Pick out a tie for me?” He asks, pulling off a starched black button-up from its hanger.

“Sure.” You walk over and spin the rack holding up dozens of ties on shiny brass hooks.

“What do you have going on today?” The well-defined muscles of his sculpted shoulders, earned from never skipping a day at the gym, flex before disappearing into his shirt sleeves.

“Not a lot.” You pull the silky slip of deep maroon fabric off its hanger. “Lola is put to bed for this year. I just have an album review to finish up and a meeting with my editor today. Maybe a series on the Fall tours?” You propose, mostly to yourself, as you bring him his tie.

“Maroon, huh?” One brow raises with the question, “I would have picked black.”

“I know.” The corner of your lips turn up in a sly smile before you rise to your toes and place a kiss on his mouth, “I’m gonna go.”

“You want my driver to drop you off?” He asks, looking in the mirror and adjusting his tie.

“Nah, I’ll drive myself. Argyle and I are going to the Subterranean for drinks. Santigold is performing. Do you want to come?” You throw out, picking up your ancient army green messenger bag you can’t bear to part with, straining with the fullness of your laptop and notes.

“I’ll pass. Not really my scene.” As he fastens his gold cufflinks, they catch the gleaming light.

“You never come to shows with me,” you sigh.

“I know, I know. I’ll try and catch the next one,” he says, sliding his feet into shiny Italian leather shoes. “I’m meeting Robin for lunch. You want to join us?”

“No. I’ll let you have your girl time.” You blow him a kiss before heading out the door.

“See you tonight, okay?”

“Love you. See you tonight,” he calls after you.

Passing through rooms decorated with rich creams and calming moss greens, you yell over your shoulder, “Tell Robin I said we don’t have any more room for paintings of flowers that look like vaginas.”

“They’re a good investment,” his voice fades as you jog down your stairs, grabbing your keys from the stained-glass bowl on the table beside the door, ignoring the buzz coming from your pocket.

The world is full of cliches. Many become so ingrained that we accept them as unwavering truths. Every cloud has a silver lining. Don’t judge a book by its cover. Actions speak louder than words. A rotten apple will spoil the bunch. Don’t spit into the wind. Well, that last one is just good advice, but there is one that has stuck with you. Love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life. Music is your deity, and working at Stax is where you worship at its altar, spreading the Gospel of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. It’s a place where your lifelong obsession is not only validated, it’s celebrated. Your journey leading up to this point feels like destiny, like the universe conspired to harmonize your two greatest loves—the lyrical power of words and the soul-stirring magic of music. Each day within these walls is a new chord, a different tempo, and you revel in the ever-changing rhythm of your life. One spent intertwined with the music and the people that create it. The magazine's pages are your stage, your canvas, and with every keystroke, you paint the stories of the music, offering them to those who care to listen.

Without taking your eyes off your laptop screen, you reach for your coffee mug only to knock over the tittering tower of CDs that you had stacked on the corner of your cluttered desk. The plastic jewel cases meet the cement floor with a shattering crash, the noise echoing off the walls of the open industrial space that houses the offices for Stax Magazine in the heart of Fulton Market District. Clapping comes from other desks as you chase the discs rolling on their sides in all directions. Pausing, you bend into a dramatic curtsey, earning chuckles as the applause dies out. The perpetual chaos of your desk has become an ongoing punchline in the office banter. Your phone begins to ring at the same time an IM pops on your screen - both from your editor, the enigmatic J. Hopper.

“Art Garfunkel’s house of pizza,” you say by way of greeting, trying to get the CDs back in their cases and toppling a pile of mail in the process.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you here? We had a meeting at 2,” comes the gruff voice of a man who's clearly not amused.

“It’s only one forty,” you reply.

“Get your ass in here now,” he yells, disconnecting.

Hopper's bark has always been more bluster than bite. The towering, older man has been a fixture in this building since its days as a "hard-hitting" newspaper. While the city has evolved and transformed, Hopper and this old brick building have remained resolute, like an immovable rock in the ever-shifting stream of time. He possesses zero patience, holds a disdain for people, and dismisses any music created after 1978. You love him as much as your own father. He offered you a position fresh out of college when other magazines wouldn’t take a chance. He's pulled out your best work, often sending you back to your desk like a pouting child, making you the writer you are today. The wisdom he’s imparted is beyond the reach of any professor or workshop, and for that, you’ll always be grateful.

With a gentle rap of your knuckles against the frosted glass, you step into Hopper's office. He's seated behind a substantial oak desk, buried beneath a mountain of paperwork. A hint of cigar lingers in the air, though you've never been able to catch him smoking. He remains engrossed, squinting at his desktop screen with a furrowed brow. Settling into one of the vintage leather club chairs, you wait for his acknowledgment, your gaze drifting across the framed magazine covers and photographs lining the walls. One of a much younger Hopper clad in a tattered flak jacket catches your eyes. His face smeared with dirt and grit, standing amidst the ruins of a war-torn Kosovo street, a city reduced to chaos.

"Where’s my album write-up?" He asks without looking up.

"I emailed it to you before lunch," you reply, confirming on your phone.

He pushes back from his desk, propping up his feet on the edge, and offers you a soft smile from under the bushy mustache covering his lip, "How are you, kid? Everything okay? Harrington treating you, right?"

"Of course, Hop. He knows he'd have to answer to you otherwise. What about you?" You ask, leaning forward, "Is Joyce looking after you? Making sure you're watching that cholesterol?"

"Yup, she's got me eating all these organic vegetables, no booze, no smokes. Kinda takes all the fun outta life." He laces his hands behind his head, stretching out his back.

"Oh yeah, does that include that bottle hootch you got stowed in your bottom drawer?"

He sits up with a quick move, pointing his finger in your direction. "You don't know anything about that. Are we clear?"

The only one who can scare Hopper is Hopper's wife.

"I don't know. What are you going to do if I give Joyce a call? Seems to me that's something she'd want to know," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You'd be out on that sidewalk before you hung up the call. Don't test me." He shakes a finger at you, "Now, what are you pitching me?"

"Well, I'm going to a club tonight, so I'll have a live performance review. And I was thinking of a piece on the bands touring this Fall. Kind of like a road map that the readership could follow and hit all the good shows."

"Those sound good, kid, but I got a feature for you to cover." He leans forward, narrowing his eyes, "You know this Eddie Munson character?"

The blood drains from your face. "No. Not-not really," you stammer, "we're from the same town, but I haven't seen him in years."

"Well, it's time to get reacquainted. I want a series chronicling the opening of CursedSound Recordings, and I want you to write it."

A featured series is something that other journalists fight over, and usually, you'd jump at the chance, but not this time. Not this series. Not Eddie Muson.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, looking down at your lap.

“You don’t think–”

“Give it to Miles.”

“I’m giving it to you. Morales is busy with–”

“I don’t want it,” the words burst out of your mouth before you think better of it. Less than twenty-four hours after seeing Eddie, your world is spinning out of control.

Hopper's face turns to steel as he plucks the pen from behind his ear and throws it down on the desk. “I think that you’ve forgotten how this works. I give you an assignment. You write it.”

Your lips part before the protest in your brain is fully formed.

“If you’re about to tell me no again, it better be followed by a damn good reason.”

His eyes are locked on yours while he waits for a response, one brow raised in challenge.

“Listen, kid,” he picks up a stack of papers, shuffling through them as he talks, “I’ve looked into this Munson character. He has a good reputation in L.A. His name is in the credits for over half the multi-platinum releases in the last five years. And word is, his studio is booked out with big names for a year in advance.” He pauses for a moment to be sure his words sink in. “Establishing a good relationship with him is in the magazine's best interests. And what's good for the magazine is good for you. Are you hearing me?”

“Yes, Hop,” he answers for you when you remain quiet.

“Yes, Hop,” you repeat.

“Good,” he says, lacing his fingers together. "The printed word isn’t worth what it used to be. Everything's gone digital, the never-ending twenty-four-hour news cycle. The competition's cut-throat out there. Trust me, our friends over at Spectrum would eat this up for Chicago Lifestyles. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d be all over this. Especially since it was proposed by corporate. I figured you went around me and pitched it to Harrington directly.”

The mention of Steve’s name sets your teeth on edge. He hadn't breathed a word about this assignment earlier, and now he's reaching out to Hopper, painting a picture as if you're disrespecting your editor and exploiting your personal connections to secure a story.

“I would never do that,” you shake your head.

"Alright then. Call Byers at Metro," Hopper instructs, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Bring him with you. His assignment is just wrapping up."

You nod, your blood boiling and your mind racing. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you finally reply with an outward calm, "Okay."

Hopper's eyes remained fixed on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Now, why are you still here wasting my time? Get out."

You don’t need any more prompting. Swiftly, you rise from your seat and make your way out of Hopper's office, formulating plans to murder your fiancé.

With a heavy sigh, you sit back down at your desk. The Stax logo bounces off the edges of your laptop screen. Your phone lights up with a photo of Steve. You let it ring a few times before sending it to voicemail. A few colleagues linger nearby, mugs in hand, their idle chatter blending with the hum of printers and the rhythmic clacking of keyboards. Your to-do list sits on your desk with strike-throughs on only half the tasks, but the priority of the ones remaining isn’t enough to capture your attention.

Reaching down, you tug at the handle of your tightly packed bottom desk drawer. It sticks, protesting the overload. The bright yellow color of the Sony Sports Walkman stands out from among the other clutter. You hesitate when reaching for it, the beginnings of the ache already tightening your chest. But you can’t resist, your hand closes around it, pulling it and the headphones coiled around out from under a pile of old concert passes attached to lanyards.

Swiveling your chair away from the desk, you face the windows and slip the headphones onto your ears. A gentle press of your thumb produces a satisfying click, and a soft crackling sound fills your ears as the capstans start to whir.

The crystal blue of the cassette is dulled behind the transparent black window, but you can still make out the handwriting on the yellowed label.

For when you miss me.

“Did you ever listen?”

Everyday.

A bird's eye view of the stage is perfectly spaced in your viewfinder, with Santi downstage dominating the mic, her other arm outstretched to the fervent crowd. Your finger clicks the shutter as a text pops on the screen.

Eddie: Seems this city isn’t so big after all.

With a huff, you close the screen, pocketing your phone.

“What’s going on with you?” Argyle shouts over the crowd, handing you back your drink as you both lean over the black-painted railing on the balcony at The Subterranean.

"Nothing," you reply, your gaze returning to the stage where Santigold is Chasing Shadows.

“You’re moody,” he accuses, leaning closer to your ear to be heard over music.

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s true,” he shakes his head. “You’re moody. Moody dick.”

The corners of your lips lift as you roll your eyes.

“This wouldn't have anything to do with mister dark and handsome sound engineer guy from last night, would it?” He probes as someone bumps into you from behind, throwing you off balance.

Your eyes narrow as he steadies you with a hand on your elbow.

“Hey, I know things,” he says, sipping his drink and looking back out over the crowd.

“Oh, yeah?” You ask, turning and leaning on the banister to face him, “What do you know?”

He turns his head toward you, his thoughtful brown eyes connecting with yours. “I know you looked freaked the fuck out when he showed up for drinks and even more so when he said he was staying. And I’ve seen you tell off enough people to know that’s what was going on at the bar when you walked away from him last night,” he says, looking back toward the stage, gesturing with his hands, “Now we're here, with my future baby mama killing it on stage, and you’re sucking all the energy out of the room.”

The song ends with the crowd erupting in applause. “I love you!” Argyle shouts toward the stage with his hands cupped around his mouth as the bass starts back up with the opening of High Priestess. Santi looks up, throwing him a wink, her voice low and fast as the reverb vibrates under your feet.

“Future baby mama?” You laugh.

“Yeah. Do you think you could use your press pass to get us backstage?”

“No. I don’t think you need to add to the population tonight.”

"See, you're no fun,” he complains, sticking out his lower lip, “So you really used to crush on that guy?

Chewing on your lip, you throw him a sideways glance.

“Yeah, you did. You crushed hard,” he laughs, “So, tell me, what happened?”

“I don’t like talking about it,” you say, scrubbing your face.

“Keeping everything all bottled up ain’t good for you, little mama,” he pokes your arm, letting you know he’s not going to drop this, “I’m your boy. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

“Circle of trust,” he says, stirring the air between you with two fingers when you don’t respond.

You lean against the rail, considering. “Alright, but this stays between us,” you threaten him with a pointed finger. His head nods as his fingers slide across his mouth like a zipper.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say, looking down at the sticky floor. “I had a crush, and he didn’t feel the same way.”

“I get it. The fury of a woman scorned. What did you do, go full bunny boiler?”

“No,” you chuckle, “Nothing like that. That part didn’t even really bother me. He was my best friend, my only friend for a long time. I thought there was something between us, that he cared about me. Maybe not the same way I cared about him, but you know, I thought we were close. I must have built it all up in my head because one day, he just takes off.” You swallow the sharp pain pressing into your chest, “He never even said goodbye.”

“Nooo,” Argyle’s eyes widen.

“It broke me,” you admit.

“Harsh,” he agrees, “And he never called you? Or gave you an explanation?”

“Not until yesterday. He asked me to lunch. You know, he actually had the nerve to say that Steve has me on a tight leash.”

“Typical.” He shakes his head, swallowing the last of his drink.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swirling the last of your ice into your watered-down drink.

His face turns serious as he explains, “It’s like surfing. We all want that wave that’s just out of reach. Especially if someone else is riding it.”

“How did you get so wise?” You ask.

“I don’t know. Must be all the weed,” he says with a hand on your shoulder, turning you toward the bar. “Let’s go get another drink.”

“You never told Steve any of this?” He asks as you join the crowd of people that constitutes the line.

“No,” you sigh.

“No?” He repeats in surprise, “This is bad news, man. Why wouldn’t you tell him? What are you going to do, just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“I guess. It doesn’t really have anything to do with him.”

“This is going to get messy.” He shakes his head as you move up in line.

“Well, I’m not real happy with him either right now. He went behind my back to Hopper, deciding that I’m going to cover Eddie’s recording studio's opening. He completely humiliated me in front of my boss. I look totally unprofessional.”

“Well, that's not cool,” Argyle sympathizes as he takes the plastic cup from your hand and tosses it into a trashcan tucked beside the bar.

“No, it was very not cool,” you agree, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Wait," he looks at you with sudden revelation, “Technically, isn't Steve your boss?"

“That’s not the point–”

“And isn’t your job to write about major happenings in the city, like when fancy L.A. sound guys open up studios?”

“You're not helping, Argyle.”

His hand lands on your head, offering a comforting pat like you're a child before the line begins moving again. "Cheer up, Bernstein," he quips with a grin, "I'll buy the next round."

Your anger hasn’t abated when you walk through the front door of the brownstone. Steve is already in bed, shirtless with the taupe velvet coverlet pulled up to his waist, glasses perched on his nose, not looking up from his laptop as you enter the room.

“Hey, Ace, how was your day? Did you write me–”

“Anything you want to tell me about, Steve?” You ask, your voice already coming out more heated than you intended.

He looks up at you, brows pulling together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, dropping your bag onto the blue slipper chair in the corner of the room, “Maybe about how you went behind my back?”

"What?” He questions, slamming his laptop shut.

“The story, Steve,” you huff, leaving the room through your closet. You’ve just put your shoes away when he appears in the doorway, padding across the carpet in his bare feet, wearing just his boxers.

“Munson’s opening, that’s what you’re mad about?” He demands.

“You totally blindsided me,” you complain, pulling a hanger off the rod and hanging up your blazer with enough force to have the other clothes swinging. “Why didn’t you say anything this morning?”

“Because I hadn’t thought of it this morning.” His hands run through his hair, tugging in frustration.

“So what, it just came to you in a flash of brilliance?” Popping the button on your jeans, you tug them down your hips, kicking them into the corner instead of putting them in the basket.

“No, it didn’t, and I hate it when you’re sarcastic. Robin wanted to stop by and see his studio. We had lunch nearby,” he informs you, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the gold chain he wears glinting in the low light.

“So the two of you just decided what I was going to be writing? Maybe that’s something you should be discussing with me.” You lay a hand on your chest before pulling your shirt over your head and giving it the same treatment as your jeans. “You know, your fiancée, not some old buddy that sold you weed a few times back in Hawkins.”

“The content Stax puts out is directly under my approval, just like Metro and the Newsdesk and every other division.” His voice, which has been steady and even until now, begins to rise, “I’m not going to call you and ask for permission every time I make a decision. Eddie and I have kept in touch. How do you think we landed that interview with Radiohead last year when they wouldn’t even sit down with Rolling Stone?”

“That’s another thing you kept from me. I had no idea Eddie was your best friend.” Your eyes narrow as your fingers yank at the delicate clasps of your jewelry and watch.

Steve's eyes roll in frustration as he shakes his head. "He's not my best friend. He’s a business contact. I know him through Robin. They were is band together, you know this."

"That feels like a lifetime ago, Steve," you remark, the clinking of your jewelry against the marble island adding a discordant scrape.

"Well, some people aren't embarrassed about where they came from," he accuses.

"I'm not embarrassed," you scoff and begin to pace as if you can outrun his words.

"Oh, please," he says, taking a seat on the bench, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge, his gaze tracking your restless movements. "You cut off anybody we still know living there. You won't even go to visit your parents. They always come here."

“You never listen to what I’m saying. This has nothing to do with Hawkins or my parents.” You halt your steps, your hand slices through the air, punctuating your statements. “It's about you making me look like a fool in front of Hopper. Like I’m trying to go around him to corporate to get assigned the big stories. Like I’m sleeping with the boss. I’m not ruining my reputation so you can give free advertising to your friends.”

“You're being crazy right now,” he yells, wincing with regret as soon as the words leave his mouth. He stands, moving closer, making an effort to control the tone of his voice, “I gave you this assignment because you know Eddie, and it will make for a better story, not because I’m fucking you. We’ve been together since the day you started at Stax. We’ve been engaged for two years. If anyone was going to think that, they already would’ve.”

Your head shakes, rejecting his rationale. He throws up his hands in frustration. “I can't have a conversation with you when you’re like this.” He starts to walk back toward the bedroom but stops abruptly, spinning on his heel and pointing his finger in your direction. “But I'll tell you one more thing—you are going to write this story.” He waves a hand toward the bathroom. “Now, go wash your face.”

Your teeth cut into your bottom lip as you walk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

A sliver of gold from the streetlights outside pierces the tiny gap in the curtains. You’ve been lying on your side staring so long that you can see its warm hue behind closed lids whenever you start to drift. You burrow your arm deeper beneath your pillows while your feet shuffle, searching for a cool spot on the sheets. Steve’s breathing hasn’t changed behind you. He’s having the same trouble falling asleep. He turns over, his weight rocking the mattress. He’s much closer now. You can feel the comforting warmth from his chest, filling the space between him and your back.

“Baby.” His breath caresses the spot just behind your ear before the wet press of his lips traces a path along your neck, latching on to the apex when it meets your shoulder. A gentle bite follows the swirl of his tongue as he moves even closer. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your shoulder and down your arm, coaxing the thin strap of your tank with them.

“Please,” he whispers between kisses, his fingers finding their way under the bottom edge of your tank top, the light scrape of his blunt nails against your ribs sending shivers across your skin. Your breathing is picking up, the fire from your argument morphing into a new kind of heat. His hips flex against your ass, his cock hard and ready. When you turn your head, his lips are there, a wet slide over your mouth until they pull back, floating just above you, lingering with a question. And when his hand cups your shoulder, urging your body to turn towards him-–you answer.

The sultry feminine voice drifts from the speakers in your bedroom, her smoky timber weaving through the air like dark tendrils intertwining with the high piano notes. Your hips rise with the flow, a slow, unchanging cadence, the stretch of his cock creating delicious friction against your velvet walls. You move higher until he almost leaves you before you start your descent, the angle finding all the hidden places that light you up beneath your skin.

"M' sorry," he murmurs.

Your eyes flutter open at his words as they carry you away from the depths.

"Hate telling you no." He gazes up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his hair pushed back from his face, and a flush across his skin.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Your hands cover the ones wrapped around your thighs, guiding them up your body. His warm, rough fingers are eager to map out every contour. Your head falls back when they find their destination, cupping your breasts with a possessive grip.

The song shifts, the new baseline a drawn-out pulse lining up with your movements. The lyrics are raw and a little filthy, fueling the urgency of your rolling hips, your clit grazing the short hairs at his base.

"Don't like telling you what to do," he mumbles even as his hands drop to your hips, attempting to hold you still as he bucks up from underneath. "Just wanna take care of you."

"Steve," his name passes your lips in a low moan as you lean forward, taking his hand from your hips and pressing them into the pillow, "Stop talking."

Sitting up, you shift your position, leaning back, bracing your hands behind yourself on his hairy thighs. You set a new pace, bouncing harder, driving him deeper, taking what you want.

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes hitting the back of his head while his hands slide across the sheets seeking any purchase as you ride him. The music surges, its tempo rising in perfect sync with the wet intimate sounds of your bodies coming together, the rhythm repeating over and over.

"So close…please," his fingers slip between you, adding pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves that he finds there, "Need you to cum."

"No," you rasp out breathless, pushing his hand aside, your eyes locked on his as you bring your own fingers to your mouth. With a swirl of your tongue, you coat them with wetness before sliding them down to touch yourself, controlling your own pleasure.

The muscles in his neck strain with effort, his gaze darkening, fixated on you. “Goddam, so sexy like this,” he murmurs.

Your body tightens, taut like a bow-string, the tension building until the crescendo crashes over you. The music washes over your senses as you reach your peak, your legs trembling with the intensity. You push your body further over the edge, succumbing to the euphoria lost in the wave of sensations.

Floating back down, your eyes open to the sight of your ceiling, your body still arched, catching your breath. His fingers tighten on your ribs, reminding you he's there. Sticky wetness dripping between you is evidence that he reached his own climax. His hands gently urge your forward to collapse into his chest.

"Wow, that was…" He strokes the sweat-slicked skin of your back. "I’ve never seen you like that before. What got into you?"

"I think you did," you say, placing a kiss over his heart as your fingers smooth through the hair covering his chest. He chuckles, holding you closer.

The gentle croon of the music fills the quiet space between you as you lie entwined, drawing closer to sleep's embrace. With a fumbling hand, Steve reaches for the remote on his nightstand, silencing the stereo, returning the room to a restful hush. He places a final tender kiss on your temple, his eyes closing as his features turn peaceful. But for you, even in this stillness, another song lingers in your mind, its lyrics echoing like a secret.

AN: Thank you for reading and rebloging. Your comments are what keep me at my keyboard plugging away at this story. Please keep sending me your songs and asks! They have inspired so much of what's to come. xoxo- Jelly

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#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn #torn series #torn!eddie #Spotify

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morwap · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍?

micheal afton x fem!reader

sfw wishing it was halloween so this could be halloween themed but oh well,

nav • m.a m.list • series master list

swearing, a kiss, in the same timeline as my other fic, evan and elizabeth are very much alive, readers in a band, micheal has a nose piercing, micheal afton with a mullet, b/n = brothers name, sneaking into the pizzeria. drinking, stealing, playboy magazine, random names

───────✧ 𓆩♡𓆪 ✧───────

Michaels's fingers drummed on the steering wheel, the music flowing from the speakers quietly but loud enough that he could enjoy it. the lights from the convenience store lit up his facial features as he waited on his friends. the summer heat was giving him a reminder of how hot it would be in his father's pizzaria, just the thought or mention of it made him groan and this constant reminder was not helping him in the slightest.

Michaels's eyes drifted around his truck, locking his eyes on the cd of your own music you had given him when you both were walking home from the two nice ladies' diner. lips turning up slowly into a soft smile, tempted to put it and listen but knowing his friends would be back any minute and he washed the thought out of his head, he could listen after dropping them off later.

laugher broke out into the summer air causing Michael to look up, watching his friends walk out with smiles. sighed as he could already pinpoint almost everything they had stolen—honestly shocked that no one called them out for it because they were awful at hiding it, you could practically see a bottle of alcohol in the front of Steven’s pants.

“Mikey I got your favorite” Jeremy snickered as he got into the small back seat, Steven got in after with the same smirk that Jeremy had. Michael shook his head but smiled as he started to pull out. Michael had gotten in trouble last time for coming home drunk by his mom, he could barely remember anything from that except the “you’re 18 and live under my roof and you will not be coming home drunk” lecture and he really didn't want to hear it again.

“Oh! I got you this, thought it looked like your girl” steven said, smacking the gum in his mouth as he pulled the dirty magazine from where he tucked it in the waistband of his pants and handed it to Michael.

“Shut the fuck up, she’s not my girl” Michael scoffed, glancing at the magazine, yes it did look like you but it was not you. steven mumbled a jokey “whatever” while Jeremy threw his hands up with a shrug when michael looked back at him. Michael tossed the magazine to the floor on the passenger side, but it took every ounce of self-control he had to not keep glancing at it.

“Mikey- man- we should drink at Freddy's,” Steven said, he looked back at Jeremy and the boy nodded, Michael sighed and let his head roll back onto the headrest.

“You know my dad would kill me if he found out,” Michael said, stopping at a red light.

“Cmon mike, we’re going away for college after this summer, let’s have fun and I know there's no alarm, just mega fuckin’ locks,” Steven said, taking the alcohol out of his pants and passing them back to Jeremy.

“Mira’s at the mall with y/n and kim, let’s invite them” Jeremy suggested, sitting the alcohol in the seat next to him carefully. Michael thought it over in his head, it wasn’t a bad idea but if William found out he would probably rip the piercing right out of his nose, if it didn’t he would have a great time and he knew of a way to get in without a key but this could be the last time to do this till his dad hired the security guard that he was talking about at dinner.

“Okay, okay” Michael gave in, putting his blinker on.

“maybe Kim will have weed” steven mentioned, lifting his brows.

“Probably not, her mom caught her with it right after graduation. I’ve heard her moms checking everything when she gets home and saying she won’t stop till she moves out” Jeremy sighed.

mira was digging through her bag as you sat on the concrete. a bubble gum sucker in your mouth, kim sat next to you and counted the money that was in her wallet.

“wow kim you really cut down on your shopping addiction” you joked and nudged her arm. kim laughed softly.

“saving up to move out” kim said, zipping up her wallet and tossing it into her small bag.

“no college?” you asked, tossing the lollipop stick onto the ground.

“don’t think it’s for me if I'm being honest, I like it here and the only college I would want to go to is out of state,” she confessed. you nodded as if you understood, but you didn’t, you wanted out of this shitty small town in the most shitty state. you wanted to get far far away and sometimes you hoped some magical person would come sweep you off your feet and save you.

“you look at any apartments?” you asked, you looked behind you at mira and she was still looking for something then you looked at kim.

“yeah, a few, there's this really cute one i looked at but it's a bit pricey” she answered with a shrug.

it was getting dark, you all came to the mall after the rush hour, not wanting to wait in lines and since it was summer everyone was there, it was the only thing to do in a town in the middle of nowhere and this was the only thing for everyone to enjoy.

music blared and you could see the signature red truck coming your way. Michael Afton and his friends, you knew Ben wasn’t with them since he was at your grandma's house three hours away helping your other aunt to move in and take care of her.

mira walked over to you and kim after finally finding her keys and wallet, she laughed as they pulled up.

it was weird how you all were connected, you all gravitated towards each other without even knowing people you all were close to had some type of connection with the other, until you all finally made the connections, jeremy was dating mira’s step brother and kim was in a relationship with michaels cousin macy while ben was on and off with steven’s sister.

michael rolled down his window and jeremy popped his head out from between the seats.

mira rolled her eyes playfully. “knew I shouldn't have told you where we were going” she laughed.

“what’s wrong with wanting to see my best friends in the world?” Jeremy acted offended. “we’re here to give you something fun to do in the town of hurricane, i think you should be begging to come with us” he added.

you laughed and looked up at mira.

“why not” you said, getting up of the concrete then helping kim up.

“meet us at freddys” steven yelled as michael started to roll his window up, mira shouted an okay before hitting the unlock button on her keys.

“that freaky animatronic place?” kim asked as you three started walking to miras car.

“maybe it will be spooky” you said, moving your fingers and making ghost sounds before getting into the car. kim laughed and rolled her eyes.

driving there didn’t take too long, the mall was a bit away from it since they wanted to put it somewhere that made it accessible for most of the town. it was fully dark out and street lights were already on.

mira parked where michael's truck was, a little ways from the pizzeria.

“about time you guys showed up” steven said as you three walked to them.

“don’t they have cameras here” you asked, the breeze gave you a chill.

“My dad took the old ones out since they kept messing up and ordered new ones so we’re good with cameras,” Michael said, easing your nerves.

“okay then why’d we have to park in the mud, its caked on my shoes, '' Kim complained.

“because my dad drives by here on his way home from my uncles” michael huffed, and walked to a spot where he could pull off the vent cover with ease.

“wait we have to crawl through that?” mira asked in disgust, jeremy rolled his eyes. “there's probably bugs in there” she added.

“is a little bug gonna stop you from a date with mr.vodka and ms.beer?” jeremy asked in a baby voice, taking out the alcohol out from the bag that sat on the ground beside him.

thankfully michael had the rest of the cups he bought for jeremy's birthday party in march in his truck, and they had stolen some pineapple juice earlier.

“well i didn’t know alcohol was involved” Mira said and got closer to the vent.

“of course alcohol was involved, we said something fun to do, not that a miracle would happen” Michael said with a breathy laugh. mira laughed and mumbled something about him being right.

“alright, this leads to parts and service and nothing blocks this duct so we should be able to get in and out easily, plus it’s not very long and it’s pretty big so no one has to worry about claustrophobia” Michael informed everyone.

you all stood in silence and looked around at each other. Michael huffed, “okay i’ll go first” he said before getting on his knees and crawled into the vent.

Michael made it inside and turned on the light before yelling for the next person.

Michael yelled out again to bring the alcohol so the last person didn’t have to worry about it.

“y/n do it with me” Mira begged, her hands clasped together.

“okay” you said, dragging out the ‘ay’ as you grabbed the bag and slid it into the vent then go in after.

you pushed the bag as you crawled, mira knew you were safe to go in with since she knew jeremy or kim would joke and say something about a bug and freak her out.

Michael helped you up then took the alcohol, you helped mira and she brushed off her clothes.

“see no bugs” Michael said with a sly smile.

“yeah see mira, Michael was the only bug you had to worry about” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders.

Michael booed you as he left the room.

soon you all gathered in a private party room so no one would see the lights, you all took your pick on what alcohol you wanted.

“y/n come take a shot with me” steven said loudly.

you were two shots in and took three tiny sips of mira’s vodka and pineapple drink, you guys worked with what you had and you all were lucky Michael was able to get some sodas from the vending machine.

steven poured the shots and opened a coke for a chaser. He handed it to you and started to count. your face scrunched as you swallowed and he took a sip of the coke then handed it to you.

“that was foul” you groaned and shook your head. steven nodded then took another sip from the coke.

you migrated back to mira, she was on her first beer after he vodka drink, you noted that kim took minimal sips of the one beer she had carried around the entire time, you also decided to only sip on a beer and you were barely buzzed.

you didn’t know how you and Michael had gotten away from everyone else but you did.

“not drinking much today mikey?” you asked, leaning on a wall next to where he was standing. you knew Michael liked to drink, you even saw him shitfaced at stevens little get together in october. you remembered how you two bickered even when he was drunk.

“someones gotta drive you know” he said, you nodded and took another sip.

“kims also holding back drinking for the same reason then?” you asked, you looked at him, his blue eyes returned the gaze.

“yeah we talked about it while i got the soda” he confirmed.

you smiled before leaning off the wall and starting to walk down the hall.

Michael followed you, “where you going rockstar?” he asked and tilted his head.

you smiled, “giving myself a tour since the heir of this pizzeria won’t” you said and shrugged, tilting your head like his.

Michael laughed, you didn't know if it was because he knew his dad would rather die than let this whole franchise be ran by someone who is not him personally or that you wanted a tour of the place.

“if you wanted to see animatronics that can sing and play instruments better than you, you should’ve just said that” Michael responded, he crossed his arms and walked to you.

you rolled your eyes, “that’s exactly why i invited you to that diner, since you’re always around great entertainment i thought you would enjoy my mediocre singing” you laughed and took a drink.

“yes i just love terrible singing and when sage knocked over those couples drinks with their guitar,” Michael said and nodded his head. you giggled and nodded.

“that was pretty funny tho” you admitted and smacked his shoulder lightly.

you walked into the pirates cove section, Michael turned on the light since there was no window in there. you moved the curtain even though it said ‘out of order’.

Michael leaned against the wall, you inhaled sharply as the fox animatronic stared back at you, your eyes wide, the stance the animatronic was in was terrifying, it looked like it could run straight out of the curtain or like it was waiting for someone to open the curtain and be right in their face.

“holy shit” you mumbled and took a step back and bumped into Michael.

“that's foxy” he said, his hand coming to your shoulder.

“no, that is freaky as fuck” you responded, looking at it made you get goosebumps.

Michael moved from behind you and closed the curtain. “Here I'll show you the old ones” he said and grabbed your hand and turned the light off before leading you out of the room.

you could hear jeremy and mira laughing and singing while kim tried to get jeremy off of the table.

he took you to the storage room, the room was filled with labeled boxes, he guided you past the shelves.

“my dad doesn’t want to retire them but uncle henry said that they need to be more ahead of their times for business plus he doesn’t think they’re safe” he said.

you stood there looking at the old bunny suit, the old yellowing suit with a bowtie, the texture looked almost like real fur and you reached your hand out to touch it.

Michael reached his hand out to stop yours.

“i wouldn’t touch it” he said, bringing your hand back but not letting go. you looked at him, he was so close to you and you honestly don't think he’s ever been this close to you during the entire frenemies relationship you have. Michael’s cologne engulfed you and it was weirdly comforting.

you furrowed your brows and he could tell you were silently asking why.

“it has springlocks in it and its probably been ready to pop since its been a while, they made it so someone could wear it or it be an animatronic on its own, they had a problem with it and moisture. i don’t want you to get hurt” michael informed you and only one sentence stood out. his hand still holding yours.

your eyes went from his to his lips then back up, was it bad that you wanted to kiss him? did he look at you like this all the time?

maybe this was what mira and kim was talking about when they would bring up yours and michaels relationship, the soft bickering and stubbornness from both parties was what you two liked to put out, it made things fun and when asked about there being more the “no michael’s a fucking dick” and “she’s a bitch” was the common response, even when you both knew that was not the case.

you sat your drink on the shelf behind you and Michael got closer, you don’t know what made you so confident, you closed the small gap and connected your lips to his.

Michaels hand moved to your waist and pushed you back softly against the shelf, he didn’t push you away which was relieving and instead welcomed it with open arms like he had been waiting, and maybe he was waiting.

your hand moved to his neck and welcomed that the kiss was getting rougher.

you were about to move your fingers into his hair, the hair he took so much pride in and messed with all the time, the same stupid mullet you gave him so much shit for and said how bad it looked when in reality it just made him look good.

a loud sound, like something heavy running made you two jump away from each other but still keep your hands on each other.

“did you hear that?” you asked and tried to look around. your heart was beating fast.

“yeah” Michael breathed out, his heart beating just as fast as yours. He pulled away from you but took ahold of your hand, you quickly grabbed your drink as you were being pulled by him.

you both looked around, you didn’t know what to look for but michael knew. he could see from the corner of his eye he could see that chica had moved and now stood in a dark corner.

“did you guys hear that?” kim asked, which made you both jump again. you both pulled your hands away from each other.

you smiled at her, “told you it would be spooky” you giggled and she rolled her eyes.

“its getting really late, we should get ready to leave.” Michael said, walking towards the private party room.

you and Michael cleaned up the room while kim got mira, jeremy and steven collected and ready to leave.

kim went out first then mira, jeremy and steven and you followed behind to make sure they got through safely. Michael did a mental check of everything before crawling out himself.

you carried the bag that had empty cups, bottles and cans and some full ones.

“im just gonna take them to mira’s house” kim said, mira gave her the keys earlier.

“i’ll take y/n” Michael yawned and ran his hands through his hair which just made it fluffier.

“i think this is the only time you two have gotten along” kim laughed, you rolled your eyes and Michael mumbled “shut up”

once you helped get mira and steven in the car kim was saying her goodbyes.

“call me when you get home” you said as you hopped into Michael's truck and put the bag in the back.

“i will, get home safe” kim said and backed out.

a few minutes into the drive you spotted the cd you gave him. you leaned over and grabbed it.

“my singing is shit but you keep my cd in your truck?” you asked with a sly smirk, you watched Michael smile and shake his head.

“there's a reason it was on the floor” he quipped and leaned back in his seat.

“oh yeah, on the floor next to your playboy” you said and held up the magazine, Michael inhaled sharply and snatched the magazine from you and tossed it into the back.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” Michael responded and looked over at you.

you laughed and smacked his shoulder. “you can admit that you love my band, i won't tell anyone” you said.

Michael pulled into his driveway, his fathers car not there which did make him worry.

“there’s nothing to admit” he sighed, turning off the ignition.

“sure” you said, dragging it out as you undid your seatbelt.

you and michael got closer, you leaned against the center console and just when you were about to close the gap, you leaned back, smirked and shook your head.

“punishment for saying my singing is shit” you said and got out of the truck.

#micheal afton #micheal afton fnaf #fnaf micheal #micheal afton x reader #five nights at freddy’s x reader #five nights at freddy's #william afton #evan afton #elizabeth afton #micheal afton deserved better #micheal afton fanfiction #michael afton fanfic #michael afton x reader #michael afton #michael afton fnaf #michael afton x you

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qoeww · 2 years

Note

can i request some headcanons with donnie and a gender neutral reader who plays / listens to lots of music ? maybe how he confesses to them or how he realizes he has a crush on them when all they do it talk about music ? have a great day !!

DONNIE WITH MUSIC LOVER Y/N

Character: Donnie

Writing Type: Headcanon

Author Note: I hope you like it hun <33

Donnie had an interesting taste in music

Everybody knew it

But sadly his brothers couldn't understand his music taste so there was always a argument about it

Like they are celebrating something and need some music for the party, Donnie was the first one unanimously dismissed from it

So he really loved going to music stores, at least people are RESPECTFUL of his music taste

At the store accidentally you bumped each other and all CDs scattered around

While helping him you two started speaking about your favorite musics

You two started meeting almost every day

Browsing the store and listening to every song while enjoying each other's presence

One time after listening to enough songs, you took a walk

Well, he accidentally showed his true identity to you

Now he is anxious about what if you don't like him and don't want to talk with him FOREVER

You are the only people who can talk with them without thinking again

Well, at first it is kinda strange for you but you can get used to it

And your two's "friendship" get leveled up

He thinks of you even when you're not around

Like "Oh, Y/N love this song."

While he was fixing Splinter's chair, he was humming the song you recommend for him

You were so nice, he wanted to be here while fixing this chair

Your voice, your smell, while talking about music shining in your eyes...

...

Oh god

No, no it didn't happen right?

He can't f... fall in love with his bestfriend? Right?

He thought like this because there is no one to talk about his interests, right...?????

He doesn't leave his room to forget you while building machines

But no, this is not working either

His siblings starts getting starting to worry

"HEY DONALD, Are you not leaving your room because of Y/-"

Raph immediately closes Mikey's mouth but it's too late

The door opens with such a speed that it almost rips its hinges

"How. Do. You. Know. Them."

Mikey's head is pulled back into his shell

Now it's time for family talk

Donnie talks about how he feels as the boys talk about how they learned Y/N

"Why don't ya ask them for a date?"

"Well, because this is not easy. Like I can't come up and say 'Hello Y/N, I like you so let's get on a date'!"

"Actually this sounds good."

Donnie gives Leo a deathly glare

"What about playlist? You told they loved songs right?"

He sits for two days and tries to make a "PERFECT" playlist

Just when he said it was over he remembers another song

After deleting not enough perfect songs, there 6 hours of playlist remain

You should be happy because at first there were more than 60 hours

He keeps his finger on "SEND"

Nop, nop this isn't good idea, he will look so-

"HEY D, I THINK THERE IS A PROBLEM WITH MY T-PAD!"

He accidentally hits the send button with Sheldon's sudden entry

"SHEEELLDOO-"

Sheldon slowly leaves the room

And the worst thing, you already saw it, there is no back!

He f*cked up

Now you can imagine he is swinging nervously back and forth on the floor

After a while notification sound splits his thoughts

"4 p.m. Same place"

Ok he really f*cked up

He almost flew into April's room through her window

"What th-"

"I NEED YOUR HELP!"

"Calm down D! If you're that much stressed out, it must be a big problem."

"Weeell, there is someone, totally not me, who has a crush and has a kind of date right now and I'm asking for a friend. Nailed it!"

This girl needs some break

After explaining what is problem to April, April gives only one advice "Relaaax and be yourself."

"This is the most stupid idea."

He literally goes on the "date" one hour earlier

While he is searching for many things on Google, he raises his head with the gentle touch on his shoulder

You are looking directly into his eyes

"Is your side empty?"

"Well yes, yes."

The silence stretches between you two

"I listened the playlist."

He squashes his knee

"Aha.."

"And I made a playlist for you too"

Donnie checks his phone after notification sound

He touches link

He's looking at you with a little blush on his face

This romantic scene gets interrupted by murmurs from the bushes

"Did they accept???"

"I'll see if you pull back a little."

"They are soooo sweet!"

"Aha, my plan worked well."

"WHAT BUT THAT WAS MY-"

They are all silent with the shadow falling on them

It looks like for this time family talk will not work for Donnie's anger

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt headcanons #tmnt headcanons #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie

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totaldrama-showdowns · 3 months

Text

Submissions for the Non-Human Showdown! Including ones that are invalid!

Fang (x2)

“🦈🦈🦈”

“He's Fang ❤”

Cody Jr (x2)

“Cody Jr! No! Not Aunty Heather!”

Mr Coconut (x2)

“The og. Should have won every season /serious”

vince the alligator (x2)

“SWEEEEP”

“The lore… so immaculate”

the don box (x2)

“bzzz i have a stupid fucking clue for you. ah fuck the interns put me in a lame outfit again”

“what id don on about he's slaying in that shirt”

wt pineapple (x2)

“ALEPINEAPPLE FOREVER!!!”

“👅🐍🐍🐍🐍”

Irene the fish (x2)

“shes so beautiful i’d kiss her too”

“The final remaining member of Team Victory after DJs elimination, Irene went on to win the million and the hearts of many.”

the chrarry baby (x2)

“Goo goo gaa gaa”

“ive got my eye on u chris mclean”

Princess Beth Doll

“I WANT TO BUY ONE SO BAD IRL!!!!! Also, this too is yuri”

Old Jester from reboot S2ep9

“I love when Damien hugged him! That's scene is soooo cute. Also I love fluffy animal!”

Bobo :)

“SEASON 2 SPOILERS Bobo is the name of the bear that had the Raj mask in season 2 episode 12 :) idk I just think he’s silly”

DJ’s bunny

the Chris-shaped cake that Julia's group made

“I wanna eat that thang”

Dramarama Cody

“He's an alien”

Theodore (MK's stuffed unicorn)

(the arts and crafts) Shed (from season 1)

“shed sweep”

that evil little seal from wt

“sooo little and evil. who can hate him”

caleb rock

“possibly the best version of him out there”

the skull duncan carved for courtney

“you cant deny how iconic it was”

eva’s mp3 player

“the most important character in td history”

heather’s various hairstyles

“possibly the most diverse and versatile entity in td historu”

pahkitew island

“The best one”

Myself

“:^)”

ryan seacrests car

“very fast”

chef's car (total dramarama and gen 4)

“MY CAR!!!!!”

alien clone cody

“AAAAAAA*explodes into green goo*”

chris's wig

“wiggin”

heather's wig

“wiggin”

total drama yum yuk happy go time candy fish tails

“You ate it!”

trents five finger shirt

“5”

princess courtney CD

“all the greatest hits!”

owens butt

“fart”

anne maria’s hair style

“Ey im walkin here”

bridgettes surfboard

“BONK”

the fake antlers from the paintball ep

“Duncney”

manitobas fedora

“served!”

beary <3

“it’s LITERALLY beary”

ripper’s world record breaking fart

“he did it”

the portrait of cody as blue boy in wt

“funny looking”

sierra’s pizza box-cum-laptop*

“she uses the internet AND eats witj it. shes a genius”

*Mod Note: this refers to cum meaning: combined with; also used as (used to describe things with a dual nature or function).

waynes accent

“Eh we play hockey eh”

mal ventriloquist doll

“aaah im evil mal doll”

alejandro puppet

“we do a little trolling”

Chef 2.0

“He made him from a cashew”

Mt. Kīlauea

“She has the mercy to have her lava not hot enough to kill Alejandro, Ezekiel, and that random intern like... Everyone say "thank you" or somethin idk. Do you think she feels bad that Alejandro ended up in a robot suit because”

Immunity idol s4-5

“They ruined it's design in the reboot boooooooo”

MK's infernape

“Listen, she's a gamer and she's based. She would totally pick chimchar in bdsp. She probably hates people who tells her to "play platinum" because that was a game made for old people.

Try and exclude this submission, I dare you. There's nothing that says I can't submit theoretical non-humans. There's a non-zero chance that MK has an Infernape and I know it's been raised to have some awesome sneaky move. If you exclude this, I bet you'd allow "Mike's Torterra" because only a grass type fan would be a fire type and MK hater!!

Julia would keep her piplup unevolved and beat her console into tiny bits when she gets to Cynthia btw”

the drone of shame

“[picks up victim and flies away] wheeee”

that giant bowl of rice they fall into in japan

“mm giant bowl of rice”

noah’s dog

“his epic dog”

celine dion cardboard cutout

“love fucking wins #duncney”

the face huggers from Area 51

“rip tyler”

ezekiel MISSING milk carton

“Sad! He died.”

the eagle chris shot and killed

“someone arrest this man. again”

the confessional

“it’s always there for you”

geoff’s splinter

“OW”

the bread from codys pants

“man i need to rewatch island. i fucking love the pants bread”

That ice cream snowman from SMS

“LISTEN. JUST BECAUSE HE IS FROM THE EPISODE THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN NOT GIVE HIM HIS RESPECT”

bear

“the one from raptear specifically. let's go lesbians”

that pizza chase threw the challenge for

“clearly he should be with it rather than emma. chemma? chipper? chazee? nope never fucking heard of them”

Momma's Spice

“*sprinkles it on op's head* mmmm tasty”

The Gilded Chris award

WT barf bags

“give a real f to those guys. never appeared after episode 7.”

the toxic marshmallow of loserdom

“killer of staci's hair”

The lavatory confessional

“bitch is iconic. 6/8 is a passing mark!!!”

Courtney's PDA

“why wouldnt they call it a phone idk but its so camp”

The Cassowaries

“Male cassowaries are responsible for raising the young. We love an involved father.”

Fire-breathing winged mountain goats

“You could make an Undertale reference with this (also they're really cool)”

Giant Beetle

“Dott shippers will like this one”

Mutated Maggots

“They're pretty cute!”

Six-Legged Rats

“ADORABLE EEEEEEEP!!!!”

scott bird

“what a beautiful bird”

Chef's car

“It may play a role in mkulia canon”

Gethin

that rainbow porridge in episode 8 of the reboot

“aw hell naw chris cookin up the gay porridge”

The cassowary that fell in love with Zee

“We love an iconic single mother looking for love”

The rat in the cargo hold that appears on screen for 0.5 seconds during Ezekiel's solo in "Come Fly With Us"

“That rat really carried the whole song. Iconic. Astounding. Never before seen talent. Lady Gaga is shaking in her Demonias.”

The Erymanthian Boar

“It wrecked Duncan's shit in Greece.”

The dock of shame

“So many teens walked on her, i think she deserves some recognizion”

gwen's blender necklace

Zoey's hamster (Miss Puffycheeks)

“It's cute and can punch a cat, need I say more?”

#nonhuman showdown #unused submissions

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quietbluejay · 26 days

Text

The Buried Dagger 1

OKAY mortarion time ….i forgot this was the book with purple prose and i had to go back in terror to make sure I didn't accidentally buy a McNeill novel again i did not, this is thankfully (?) someone else

I'm trying to figure out what about this pushes it into "Wow Edgy" rather than being genuinely compelling well actually this isn't too bad, to be honest, it's really the next bit which is that the population of ynyx (and WHAT a name) doesn't have mouths "the cold ember of his familiar, obdurate resentment" I feel like I'm being unfair to the book by feeling bathos instead of pathos but i think it's that everything is so over the top

wait what year was this written Mortarion is literally breathing in the chemicals 2019 I'm now going to suffer from the belief that the writer of this was listening to Radioactive (due to this plus some other things) and now I've got it stuck in my head

i want to take this seriously but i just can't, I'm sorry no one understands meeeeeeeee owo uncomfortable memory surfaces

i will say this, the prose is quite evocative

ok so mort has a giant chip on his shoulder and is an enormous misanthrope but just about every single person who has ever been in a position of authority over him DOES just use him as a tool

boy did he choose the wrong side of the war

tumblr has poisoned my mind regarding "the horrors" so it feels like "every day mortarion gets emails" mortarion: hm maybe i should get rid of the daemon and also all the stuff i used to summon him and go back to normal warfare

holy shit holy shit he really is his father's son also hey uhhh mortarion do you remember that whole slippery slope speech you gave at Nikaea about literally this exact topic

the irony is killing me you're killing me, Reaper of Men, and I'm not even a man the manreaper of….justice (????) is unisex oh yeah i forgot to bring it up but Mort calling Magnus an "arrogant braggant" fills my salty soul with glee

morty continues to try out for that fantasy villain role i think i'm warming up to the prose though

im breathing in the chemicals- im breathing in the chemicals- im breathing in the chemicals-

i think swallow's cd kept skipping while he wrote this

this is the third time he's breathed in the chemicals

it's totally not a ritual, honest! okay, this is a cool fight scene mortarion can be cool in a fight, as a treat

lmao

yes. this is funny to me. Mortarion is just so done with this whole thing Mort: why did i get sent on this sidequest rip typhon killstealing

mortarion would really like to be starring in a different genre oh no cursed idea my thought was "what genre would be funniest to put him in" which was followed by "this is our get-along harem protagonist" but it's mort and rob idk at the end of godblight they got yeeted my next thought was magical girl anime he's the dark magical girl's mascot creature he is having friendship! just hdu call him and the magical girl friends

typhon plotting out how to ambush mortarion with a hug

uhhhhhh

typhon: yeahhhh better not bring up the Fallen honestly typhon feels like one of the most intelligent characters in the series! ….huh why weren't the dark angels at Terra

dude and then typhon internally cackles evilly like a kids show villain everything is going according to keikaku does your brain on nurgle turn you into snidely whiplash?

Mortarion what the heck

normal behaviour to go along with the poison drinking or breathing in the chemicals and breathing in the chemicals- and breathing in the okay i'll stop

literally everyone on the ship is choking but typhon that was fast owo flashback time

okay so his evil dad (the first one) sent him out with golems to fight other golem things from other evil overlords as a test of some kind this is just his entire life, huh

oh lovely like wow the only reason mortarion's alive is that he's a primarch the abuse is kind of getting to ridiculous angst-fic levels and yet the way it's written is genuinely compelling? probably because he's not actually a normal human so it is survivable and not ridiculous but it is kind of walking on that line thrown to starving dogs when he was a toddler like

this really is his entire life huh

annnnd also Necare experimented on him with poison what next did necare give him a dog and then kill the dog in front of him we're starting to get into bathos here

the last bit of this scene is, yeahh

a bit. on the overwrought side.

The book is tap dancing on the line which is to be honest, making me sad i really want this to be good :/

if it's going to go all the way into goofy, i want it to go all the way so i can mock it if it's going to be half hard hitting and half goofy it feels like im pulling back to punch a small child this book also unfortunately has some kind of subplot on earth with a bunch of rando characters and also, unfortunately, Garro

oh this is i guess foreshadowing for what's going to happen to the death guard? so garro's friend got hit by an evil knife and unlike guilliman he did not have plot armour

so garro is working with a bunch of other dudes who defected from the traitor legions secretly working for malcador oh, and a psyker ultramarine

oh wait psyker ultramarine met garro on calth??? what??? how did he get to calth and back what is a timeline (i should be fair and stop banging on about this since i have not actually read the relevant books. at least I assume this has to be covered in a book I didn't read)

oh yeah sure let's undress the catatonic chained up woman oh she's a sister of silence my beloved

okay so context she had her name and serial number tattooed under her collarbone so. i guess that was more important??? apparently??? they did not take off the chains they just snapped them off of the wall and basically pushed her to start walking you couldn't just. pick her up??? wouldn't that be faster?? okay this was funny malcador sends an illusion of himself across the planet

I'm rolling my eyes

this is the guy running the imperium

does he have nothing better to do also why give them the job in the first place if he's not going to trust them not to "creatively reinterpret" his commands

oh we're back with Teen Mort and he keeps a diary ohhh a bunch of humans are rebelling and attacking

oh it's Teen Typhon meeting Teen Mort

psychic powers time

this is not the time to get angsty also he is kind of a grimdark rapunzel huh

back in the present and apparently mort broods a lot in his room and if you interrupt him he yells at you because of course he does you're interrupting his linkin park listening bluejay note: i love linkin park so i am allowed to make this joke annnd typhon is setting up the navigators on the ship to take the blame oh he just killed them all that was fast and now they're all trapped blind in the warp and typhon is being obviously evil and according to keikaku which is visible to everyone but Mort well tbf to Mort, he's very angry at Typhon for killing the navigators so he's probably missing stuff

typhon: this lifeboat is full of leeches just trust me typhon: throws it overboard

back in the past, Mort successfully rescues the spunky teens but his dad is coming so he tells them to get out while they can and then has his disney princess song realization that it's time to stand up for himself and he'd do it all again! and face his dad! and dieeeee okay the last bit isn't disney princess …ah

ah mort: wait, that's an option??? rip his hair is getting in his eyes i hate when that happens

okay this is a cheesy line but it's working here

okay i made the joke before about mortarion being the kind of guy who likes to stand on cliffs/balcony edges and look down but i DIDNT KNOW IT WAS LITERALY DONT STARE INTO THE WARP YOU IDIOT

i. oh boy we get to see an emperor-mort interaction

i think the emperor is….actually trying here? but what the emperor is trying to say here is not what mort took from it

#warhammer 40k #bluejay reads warhammer

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artistic-killjoy · 1 year

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"ᴛʜɪs ɢᴜʏ ᴅɪɢs ʙᴀᴅ ɢɪʀʟs" ʀᴏᴅʀɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇғғʟᴇʏ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Genre: Fluff, Maybe angst

Warnings: Jealousy, Name-Calling

Summary: Reader is Heather Hills's friend. Reader believes that she doesn't have the slightest chance with Rodrick, because it seems like Rodrick likes Heather. Rodrick throws a party, blah blah blah, feelings are revealed.

Hi, I'm Y/N, probably one of the least popular girls at my school. Yeah, sure, I've been friends with Heather Hills since kindergarten, but she never seems to have time to hang out in public, so we're never seen together. I suppose my bad reputation doesn't help my lack of popularity, though.

I mean, who would wanna date and/or hang out with a girl who doesn't look or act her own gender?

I'm always wearing band tees, ripped jeans, and dirty Converse. Oh- And let's not forget that I'm Löded Diper's guitarist. Löded Diper is the loudest- and only- band in the neighborhood. Parents don't typically look at the only female in a band full of teenage boys, and think, "I would love to have my son/daughter bring her home for dinner!".

No.

At school, most people don't know me. But, a lot of the ones who do know me, refer to me as "Slut", and other rude nicknames that I don't even bother trying to remember.

I'm loud, probably seem annoying to most people, obsessed with rock and metal bands, and would choose a new sketchbook over a new friend.

I have two best friends- Rodrick Heffley, and Heather Hills.

Now, you're probably thinking, 'If Heather has so many friends, and you're friends with Heather, shouldn't you and Heather's friends get along?'.

Well, we don't. Heather's friends hate me, and I hate those bitches right back.

OH- I almost forgot to mention- I've got a FAT crush on Rodrick. But, I'm 99 percent sure he's only friends with me so he can become even the slightest bit closer to Heather. It's sad, yes, but what can I do?

Anyways, I was walking home from school, when Heather and her group of giggling girly-girls stopped me.

"Hey Y/N. Got any plans for tonight?" Heather asked me.

I nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah... I'm going to Rodrick's party tonight. Sorry." I apologized.

She smiled slightly. "Think you could ask him if he'd let me tag along with you?" she replied.

I wanted so bad to say, "No, I don't think I could." out of jealousy, but out of kindness, I said "Yes".

'She's going to ask him out. He's obviously going to say yes, because that boy is head-over-motherfucking-heels for that girl.'

And that's the only thing I could think, the entire way home.

-AT HOME-

'Time to get ready for the party, I suppose...'

And with that, I headed upstairs to my bedroom to get ready. And when I say, "Get ready," I mean, "Apply Eyeliner And Blast 'Let Go' By Avril Lavigne Until My Mom Says Turn It Down".

I turned my CD player on and put in 'Let Go' by Avril Lavigne, (AMAZING album- please go listen to it if you haven't already) hit play, and began applying eyeliner.

Before 'Losing Grip' had even ended, my mom was knocking on my door. "Y/N, could you turn that down?"

I sighed. "Yes ma'am.." I reached over and turned the music down. Once my eyeliner looked alright, I picked up my phone and called Rodrick. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hey! What's up?" he asked.

"Nothin' much. Heather Hills wants to know if she can come to the party." I replied.

Silence.

"Hell yeah she can!" he finally exclaimed.

"Okay, cool!" I replied in the cheeriest voice I could manage. 'Probably a little too sugary-sweet, but whatever.'

I quickly hung up before things could get awkward. I stared at my phone for a good five minutes before finally calling Heather. The second she picked up, I blurted out a "You're invited" and hung up. I didn't feel like explaining why I sounded so pissed.

I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and went downstairs. I hugged my mom goodbye and explained that I was just heading over to Rodrick's to hang out, then left.

-AT THE HEFFLEY'S HOME-

I reached up to knock on the door, but before my hand could even make contact with the door, it swung open, revealing a very happy Rodrick.

"Y/N! S'glad you could make it! Food is...wherever you can find it. No alcoholic beverages, due to Greggy and Rowley." he told me. I nodded and gave him a small smile. I opened my mouth to ask where the drinks we could have were, when the sound of Heather and her Pink Ladies, as I like to call them, (Grease reference lmao) filled my ears. Rodrick saw them over my shoulder, and turned his attention over to Heather without a second thought.

I frowned as Rodrick quickly hugged me and rushed over to greet Heather. I scratched the back of my neck and stood there awkwardly as she waved at me and started talking to Rodrick. Finally deciding that I wanted nothing more than for my best friend to be happy, I sucked it up and walked inside.

I walked into the living room and stood there, looking for a familiar face. Suddenly, something much shorter than me slammed into me. I made a small noise of surprise and looked down to see what it was.

Rowley.

I smiled a bit as I gently patted his head. "Hey dude! How's it going?" I asked.

He looked up at me with a grin. "Its-" he started, but was quickly cut off by Greg, who rushed in to make sure Rowley wasn't about to do anything embarrassing.

"Rowley! What are you doing?! She's our ENEMY!" he hissed.

I reached out and grabbed Greg by the shoulder, pulling him into the hug. "Hey hey, bro! I bought ya somethin'." I told Greg as I pulled a new video game he's been wanting for a week now out of my bag. He gave me a look of clear suspicion as I handed him the cased disc.

"What's the catch?" he asked me.

"You gotta let me play a game o' that. Heard it was really freakin' awesome, so I gotta try it out." I told him.

A grin slowly spread across Greg's face. "Alright. Maybe you aren't so bad after all."

"Sweet. Can we go try it out after I get a drink?" I asked.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "What about Rodrick? I thought you two were- like- inseparable!"

I shrug, looking away and shoving my hands in my pockets. "I don't care what he does right now." I said quietly.

"Really? Why-" Rowley started.

"How do we know this isn't a trap?" Greg cut him off.

"Gosh, how'd you figure it out so fast?" I said sarcastically, before going to the kitchen. The first thing I saw when I walked in was Rodrick and Heather talking and laughing their asses off. I stopped walking and frowned. I could feel tears coming to my eyes as I realized how close they were. I quickly tried to make a run for it before I was spotted, but one of Rodrick's buddies saw me and called out to me.

"Yo! Y/N!" he yelled. My eyes widened and I slowly turned around.

"Y-Yeah?..." I asked meekly. Rodrick and Heather were staring straight at me.

"Y/N? You good?" Rodrick asks me, seeing that I'm about to cry. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, pulling myself together.

"Yeah, why?" I open my eyes and force a smile as I respond. He shrugs and turns back to Heather. Heather stares at me a few seconds longer, her eyebrow raised, before facing Rodrick again. They go back to talking. I'm seemingly forgotten, so I turn to leave the room. I make it to the living room, when Rodrick's friend gently grabs my shoulder.

"Come with me." I hear him say. And with that, he leads me outside. He sits on the steps of the porch and pats the spot next to him. I hesitantly sit next to him.

"What- What's up?" I ask, curious.

He looks at me with an expression that says 'You Know Exactly What I'm Talking About'.

I sigh. "Alright, alright. It's just that- that- I really really like Rodrick, but it hurts when all I want is for him to be happy and he's all heart-eyes for my best friend, and I don't want him to be with her because I want him to be with me, and I feel like I'm not good enough-" I tell Rodrick's friend. He cuts me off as soon as he hears "Not good enough".

"No. Y/N, listen to me. Look at me." he demands. I look at him, tears (yet again) threatening to spill.

"You are perfect. You are more than enough. Rodrick never shuts the fuck up about you when it's just us guys. And you know what? He likes you. As more than a friend. He told me so. Just, ah, don't tell him I told you that." he says. I giggle slightly at the last bit and nod.

"Thanks, dude... You're fuckin' awesome." I tell Rodrick's friend as I lean in, hugging him and possibly crying into his shoulder. These tears were tears of joy, though.

I pull back when I hear the sound of the door swinging open (and almost hitting me in the head), revealing a confused Rodrick. "Y/N? What's going on?"

I look over at Rodrick's buddy, who simply nods at me and stands up, walking back inside.

Rodrick watches as his friend walks inside, closing the door behind him. When he looks back at me, I pat the empty spot next to me on the steps. "Sit." I tell him.

He slowly sits next to me. "Seriously, are you okay?" he asks me.

I look down at my hands. "I'm gonna be honest with you. I'm not okay." (I promise- ILYSM IF YOU GOT THAT REFERENCE)

"Well, why not?" he questions.

"I like you. I don't want to be your friend. I wanna be your girlfriend, but I also want you to be happy, and it seems like making you happy means getting you and Heather together, or at least just letting you two be together." I say. After a few seconds of silence, I look over to see that Rodrick is simply staring at me with wide eyes.

"Look- I-I'm sorry-" I start as I begin to stand up. Suddenly, my hand is grabbed and I'm pull back down.

"I like you too, as more than a friend. I just never caught onto your hints, apparently. I've been hiding my feelings for you by pretending to like Heather. It seemed easy, but believe me- if I had a dollar for every time I wanted to tell you how I felt, I'd be fuckin' rich." Rodrick tells me.

I smile and quickly lean in, grabbing the sides of Rodrick's face and smashing my lips against his.

"Woo! Go Y/N! I knew you could do it, girl!" I hear Heather call from an open window of the living room.

"YO! RODRICK! CONGRATS, MAN!" Rodrick's band buddies call from the same window.

I turn to Rodrick, and we both just smile.

#rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #fluff #diary of a wimpy kid #fanfic

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somethingvinyl · 4 days

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May vinyl challenge Day 16: early influences from formative years. My first favorite band was the Beatles. At the tender age of ten, I was listening to the Backstreet Boys, because EVERY child in 1998 was listening to the Backstreet Boys. My dad, to his credit, decided to try to connect with me over pop music with vocal harmonies and gave me a couple Beatle CDs from his shelf—Revolver and Sgt Pepper. I enjoyed both, and he let me pick a new one at Warehouse Music (rip). I picked Help and fell in love. It was the first album I ever loved front-to-back, I memorized every song and who sang what on it (since it was specified in the CD liner notes). I still love the album, here upgraded to the 2014 mono vinyl, but more importantly it taught me the mental mechanics of appreciating and obsessing over music that still serve (plague) me today.

It was only four years later that I started listening seriously to any band BUT the Beatles 😂 they subsumed my entire middle school career.

#the beatles #vinyl

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porcelainpistol · 2 months

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some memories of my high school years [wistful sigh]

beating resident evil 0 in one go with no guide with my bf

getting super pissed at aforementioned bf the night we played silent hill 2, and i went to get us drinks and told him not to play without me. he did anyway and i missed the pyramid head closet cutscene. i reloaded the save lol

having pizza delivered while i was hanging out on the roof stargazing with friends. the pizza guy excitedly climbed the ladder and brought it up to us. we offered him a hit of our joint along with his tip

being the One with internet in my neighborhood, so my bestie would come over to get on myspace and vampirefreaks

going over to another kid's place in my neighborhood bc they were the One with satellite, and therefore had the fuse channel

watching headbanger's ball with friends and vowing to get cradle of filth's album upon seeing the nymphetamine video

burning cd's. burning SO many cd's. among my friend group only one had lacuna coil's comalies, the rest of us had burned copies. every time someone got a new cd it was customary to immediately rip it to burn it for everyone else

staying up all night on myspace, aim, livejournal, and gaia

sitting in the living room listening to various cd's while copying my notes from index cards into my proper book of shadows

watching really bad anime rips on youtube

marathoning horror movies (i distinctly remember house of 1,000 corpses, devil's rejects, and saw 1 and 2 being a particular lineup)

riding the bus to the mall after school to buy a copy of the silent hill movie with a friend on it's release day at suncoast

arguing with friends over what the hell patrick stump was saying in fall out boy's "sugar, we're going down"

putting a last.fm widget on my myspace to show my latest songs

listening to cd's on the computer, so i could play them in winamp with cute skins, and do the aforementioned last.fm scrobbling

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girlreviews · 2 months

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Review #184: She’s So Unusual, Cyndi Lauper

You’re receiving a fair warning right at the outset: there are going to be no less than two references to The Simpsons in this review – possibly more -- and I’m not even a little bit sorry about it.

I think that Cyndi Lauper is one of the very first female artists I ever knew the name of and recognized, and knew her record from start to finish. I don’t think it was this one. I believe it was a compilation CD called Twelve Deadly Cyns… And Then Some, that had a really striking image of her with bright yellow hair and a bright red hat. It had all of the major hits from this album, and the next few, as well as the most interesting remix of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun that was done by the guys from Redbone, and was very much my first introduction to the bassline from Come And Get Your Love. That shit worked.

Anyway, I wish that every three-year-old girl got to hear Cyndi Lauper like this because she’s fucking iconic. Powerhouse voice. Uninhibited. Artist. Creative genius. A girl’s girl and a woman’s woman. I’d love to get drunk with her and play a round of cards. I bet she’s been treated like a child while navigating this industry. I just feel it in my bones and guts. Because of the earnest, girlish, sincere, whimsical music she’s making, as well as her unapologetic cute and girly aesthetic and small frame. But she’s always demanded to be taken seriously. She’s the inspiration I’ve carried around as an experienced professional in my field: I can have a bubble tea pencil case with a smiley face on it, and cute stationary, and a notepad with a bird on it, and a cute haircut and fun outfits. It doesn’t mean I’m childish, or any less good at my job, and I will rip you a new asshole if you fucking cross me or any of my employees, cool? Do not be fooled by the enamel pins on my jacket. I could stab you with them if I wanted. I just don’t, that’s all.

My notes: Money Changes Everything, which it does, has a harmonica solo in it, and I think we all need to take a moment and bow down to the boldness of that. How many harmonica solos do we hear outside something like Bob Dylan? It’s pretty few and far between and it’s really fucking great in this song. Every single track on this album is deep, fun, and interesting. And some of them have harmonica solos! When I was a doofy little teen, I used to have a necklace with a tiny harmonica on it. It was ugly as could be, but it was pretty cool. I recently started looking into whether there were any cute, adult versions of it. There are. And I am once again inspired by Saint Cyndi to be cute, functional, and badass.

I’m going to save Girls Just Wanna Have Fun for last because I have so much to say about it. So next up will be Time After Time, which to be honest is every bit as iconic. Genuinely. It’s absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Moving. How does one write a song so incredibly poignant and dedicated to someone? Can anybody listen to this synth ballad and not just feel their heart plunge into it? Maybe they can. Maybe they’re a monster. Not a Simpsons reference, but to illustrate my point: even April Ludgate, known to be cold-hearted and dead inside, can’t resist the pull of this song.

She Bop is one of my favorites. I think I loved it when I was really tiny. It makes sense that I would have. I loved nonsense. I still love nonsense. It’s a lot of nonsense (Oop, she bop, she bop, she bop, he bop, we bop, I bop, you bop, they bop, be bop, a lu bop), but it’s positioned over some very serious-sounding synths and electric drums. That’s my exact shit and always has been. There’s a good chance Cyndi Lauper and this song are largely responsible for my entire persona, in hindsight. That’s fine with me. I think this song is about bad boys and having crushes on them (hey, hey they say I better get a chaperone, because I can’t stop messin’ with the danger zone). Cyndi Lauper has always been completely about her uninhibited noises. Woops, and breaths, and squeaks, and squawks. They’re amazing, and they add absolutely everything to the experience. Simpsons reference #1 coming up here. They made it the butt of the joke, but I loved it. Cyndi Laupi (yes, Laupi), singing the National Anthem at a baseball game, with all that breathy, squeaky, baritone nonsense. Absolutely fucking hilarious. Also the way in which I mostly learned the words to the National Anthem (you try knowing it when you grew up in Europe? I do not accept your judgment, and frankly I’m still pretty shaky on the words and I don’t care).

Every track on this album slaps, and you should listen to it, but it is one of those where you kind of have to focus on the singles/iconic tracks because they are iconic for a reason. So here we go. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. I want to say that this song is so happy and upbeat and means everything to every girl and woman that knows it, which, is like, all of them, ever, and if it isn’t, it should be. However. There’s also a sad undertone to it, or at least I have always felt one. It’s always just tugged at my heart a little bit. I actually have no idea whether that’s just me or whether that’s a universal experience. It’s like a gentle feminist wish. She’s singing about oppressive experiences — from parents, from partners, from society:

“Oh Mama dear, we’re not the fortunate ones”

“Oh Daddy dear, you know you’re still number one”

“Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world”

It genuinely hurts my feelings. I’m not sure a song has ever so captured the simplicity of experience. Just trying to exist. Just trying to walk in the sun. Just trying to go home and chill after work, and for some reason, it’s just hard to do. But, in singing it, she’s fulfilling the wish, because she’s having fucking fun. It’s fun. I don’t know man, that’s really cool. I love this song. But it’s way deeper than I imagine a lot of people have ever given her credit for. I imagine to a lot of people, it’s just a silly little party song. But it’s not. And if you want to fight with me about that, I’ll get my cute enamel pins ready. Here’s Homer Simpson singing it, which I have always found extremely endearing. Do you think it’s lost on him? Probably. That’s sort of what’s endearing about it.

#album review #music #music review #rolling stone top 500 #cyndi lauper #she’s so unusual #the simpsons #parks and rec

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spinningbuster98 · 2 months

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Sonic the Hedgehog CD Part 1: Sonic CD is sponsored by Marty McFly

Oh boy, now we’re getting into some spicy territory!

My history with CD is...complicated

Unlike the other Classic titles, while I was exposed to this one at around that same time thanks to the Sonic Gems Collection, I never played it quite as much due to...reasons that will become quite clear in future parts. It’s only with the release of the Whitehead version years ago that I truly dived into this game

So let’s start with the best and most obvious parts

Firstly: the opening and closing cinematics are literally some of my favorite pieces of animation ever. (Well the uncompressed versions anyway, ‘cause the Sega CD was what it was). Not just because they’re animated beautifully but because they feature what is, to me, the gold standard of Sonic’s body language.

This Sonic is quick, adventurous and fun loving when he’s zooming around, but dead serious and determined once he notices Eggman’s effect on Little Planet

But most of all: he’s cool. He’s effortlessly cool in the way he runs around and toys with badniks, while at the same time still retaining a cutesy side to him to remind you that this is still a light hearted and fun loving cartoon character

While I’m not one of those people who thinks that Sonic should never talk (specifically Classic), there is a case to be made on how in just a few minutes’ worth of animation CD is able to tell us literally everything there is to know about Sonic’s character without having him utter a single word while the Storybook games had to devote hours long narratives to get the point across. It also further lampshades just how backwards Sega’s recent handling of Classic as a character has been, focusing completely on his cutesy side while completely neglecting his cooler one, or at least downplaying it, while one of the main reasons for the switch to Modern was because they feared that Classic was being perceived as too cute by fans at the time, but whatever that’s a topic for another time

From a graphical standpoint...yeah this game is above and beyond the best of the classics, both in general spritework (though bosses in Sonic 3 actually look better, but that might just be due to that game having actual bosses that look more imposing in general), color variation, level of detail and artstyle, which is without even mentioning the way that the game manages to tell a simple yet subtle narrative through its backgrounds but I’ll focus on that at a later time

But personally I’ve...actually never been head over heels for these graphics unlike everyone else, mostly due to a personal thing, since Sonic game move so quickly it’s usually hard for me to really focus on background details and whatnot, which isn’t helped by the one thing you’ll be looking at the most, Sonic’s sprite, pretty much being ripped straight from Sonic 1 and looking so out of place compared to the rest of the game. But again: it’s not a knock against the game, it’s just me

Musically I...think it’s good, it’s certainly the most varied and smartly utilised soundtrack in the Classic games (or even in the whole series) due to how each track ties very well to the feel of not only each Zone but also each era, but personally? When it comes to Sonic music I tend to prefer more upbeat, fast paced tracks. CD’s OST is much slower and usually pretty calming and atmospheric, which works very well for what it’s trying to accomplish, it’s just not what I personally prefer to hear in a Sonic game (and yeah I’m talking about the JPN score, it’s been ages since I’ve listened to the US tracks)

On the other hand however I like all of the vocal tracks

Sonic Boom was the first I was introduced to and it still sounds great, but over time I also gained a lot of appreciation for You can do anything. The lyrics are really cheesy and are bordering on nonesense half the time, but I like the energy it has

My absolute favorite however is Cosmic Eternity. I really wish more people would talk about this one because this is, and I’m not kidding here, one of my favorite Sonic songs in general. Right up there with the likes of Open your Heart, Live and Learn and What I’m Made of. It’s just so upbeat and uplifting, it fits both this game’s happier aspects and Sonic’s character like a glove, the latter more in the sense that it sounds like something that Sonic would sing someone to cheer them up

#youtube #sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog cd #my gameplay

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sleepnoises · 1 year

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okay lore @megafaunatic tagged me in 5 No Skip Albums. hard because historically i am very bad at engaging with the album as an unit of music but here are some choices

Aims, Vienna Teng Extremely tumblr of me but the thing is: it's good. I have this on an actual CD somewhere and played it driving up from SoCal with my dad in an auxless car

Emotion, Carly Rae Jepsen also extremely tumblr of me but like. boy problems?? i really like you? your type??? i remember watching the boy problems music video on rookiemag dot com (RIP)... i listened to LA hallucinations on loop while studying for a physics final on college.... i've lost my little mind to your type repeatedly in a variety of situations, as one does

Muna, Muna i actually often skip the first song of this one (silk chiffon feat phoebe bridgers) (soz pheebs) but with that caveat it's the only album i've recently listened to all the way through on multiple occasions. i am so delighted they're turning their energy from horny depression to more of a self-assured horny vibe

String Quartet Live!, Kishi Bashi i am enchanted by the exclamation of "banjo solo!" on The Ballad of Mr Steak in this live version. can't go wrong with This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) either, ever. love a string!!

Fantasies, Metric they simply did not fuck up any part of this album.

other things i considered including: Home Video by Lucy Dacus & Rites of Passage by the Indigo Girls (which actually has like three songs i don't know on it because i listen to music so weirdly and spottily!)

bonus: i asked my mom this question and she talked about the new boygenius EP for like ten minutes. which is no-skip for me too but it's four songs sooooooo

okay now that i've dated myself i am tagging some people. @blotthis @catchaspark @dwellington @geddyqueer. kat if she sees this. @hipsterbloodritual & qqq. @fortheninth @moldspace @jbbartram-illu !

#i've seen everyone on this list in concert except for metric #music

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dazaiconfused · 3 months

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i got tagged by @catboymisogynist and ty!!! it turns out i’m wearing my NO shirt on the right day-

1. How long have you been a New Order fan? i know it started after watching 24 hour party people in 2019 but i don’t think i really sat down and listened to an album until 2020

2. How many New Order concerts have you been to? sadly zero. maybe one day i will when i can get fix my fate

3. What was your favourite New Order gig? i absolutely love one of their very early tv performances in 1981 on Granada television in Manchester. i’ll add the link at the bottom cause it’s worth watching i promise

4. What is your fav New Order album? i always say PC&L and i still can’t refute it

5. Fav New Order song? judging by my most played tracks it’s Mr Disco but in my heart it’s Touched by the Hand of God

6. Favourite Member of New Order? giving a shoutout to Stephen for being there since the beginning and still remaining sane after all these years

7. Favourite Former Member of New Order? can i just say peter hook was kind okay during the 80s period so i guess i’ll say like 1983 hooky

8. How many NO albums do you own? currently i have 4(?) cds though ive had more in the past - a few were passed to other peeps

9. Do you own any Joy Division? still searching for a copy of Closer but ive got Unknown Pleasures and a Best Of cd

10. Least Favourite album? ngl, Waiting for the Sirens’ Call 🤷‍♀️

11. Do you have all the side project albums? definitely not because hooky’s band/thing from the 90s doesn’t appeal to me and Electronic + The Other Two stuff is so rare in the wild rip

12. Which is your favourite side project Electronic is my: babygirlmybelovedmybestfriendmyonetruelovethebestofbothworldsilovethemwithallmyheartandsoul

13. Favourite remix? The ‘90 Confusion mixes are honestly better than the ‘83 original to me

14. Favourite video? Touched by the Hand of God

15. Favourite cover? CHIRS LOWE DOES SUBCULTURE aka thank you Stop Modernists ur amazing

16. Should Hooky rejoin the band? fuck no

17. Do you like Barney’s dancing and fav dance moves? yes and whenever he spins in some way

18. How many times a day do you listen to NO? not as much as i used to but at least two separate times a day is set aside for NO listening

19. Is New Order your favourite band? unfortunately i suffer from a crippling addiction to the pet shop boys which hinders my full capacity to have them be my favourite and yes please pray for me

20. Should Steve audition for Dr. Who? id give him money to yes

21. Favourite Barney collaboration? i always think about him producing some things for the happy mondays which means he was practically a babysitter for strung out late 20yr olds which is something we should never forget

i just want to tag @blue-dreamers-eyes because i know you’ll have very interesting thoughts on this and you're a more dedicated fan than me by this point

lastly the Granada tv performance: https://youtu.be/48E74Lun7kA?si=G18zQK330C2jP5VA

youtube

#new order #tag game

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pearl484-blog · 7 months

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Trick or treat! 🧛☠️

Yes! My first ask!

Hmm....here's some cut content for my Adrien AUGreste intial entry of Risk Taker. Originally designed as a prequel for Replay, ultimately thia bad boy spiraled out of control and far away from what I was looking for

Quick Summary: On the worst day of his life, Nino tries to evade his best friend while he tries to kill him.

It all started when an akuma called Spin Doctor attacked the city of Paris. He looked like an old fashioned stereotype of a doctor, that had been colored in by a kindergartner, complete with a green lab coat, yellow gloves, a red stethoscope, gray skin and a shiny metal disk strapped to his head that looked like a misplaced CD. Unfortunately, that particular part of the ensemble was what fired the beams that mind-controlled his victims.

His victims were emotionless and parroted whatever lies Spin Doctor declared on loop, and they walked like they were drunk, swaying from side to side and staring at nothing. Or at least that was what it seemed like. It was hard to tell because all of the victims had silver disks for eyes.

At first, Nino had thought they were blind, but as he was looking through his bedroom window to watch the akuma pass by, he saw a bit of movement. Nino’s eyes darted over to see what it was, and he noticed a mother trying to make a run for it with her toddler before the akuma got close enough to get her.

Immediately, it was like a flip had been switched. The akuma barely did more than twitch towards her, and the akuma’s victims swarmed the mother enmass. She cried out as her child was ripped from her and she was thrown to the ground. One of the victims grabbed the baby and ran off while 4 others grabbed the mom and held her down. She had screamed in terror until the full mob descended on her, and then she stopped.

Only, it didn’t sound like she’d just been muffled or subdued. It was like her scream had been a track on a playlist, and at the height of her panic, someone paused it. It was so strange, the Nino could barely react.

Nino watched the mob with a strange horror as he realized he couldn’t bring himself to look away until he knew the woman’s fate. Had she been killed? Had she been converted? Had she been transformed into something else. Nino could only guess, and when Nino realized that the mob was no more, and he still hadn’t seen a trace of the mother, he understood that he’d never know.

Nino hid inside his apartment after that, closing all the blinds in his window and barricading the doors. It wouldn’t stop Spin Doctor if he truly wanted to get to Nino, but it might delay him, and it might stop his victims. Thankfully, Chris was at a sleepover with some friends, and his parents were out for date night so they were probably safe if Hawk Moth decided to get his revenge on Nino for being a hero.

Knowing that this may take awhile and worrying about it wouldn’t help anymore, Nino decided to make some stress hot chocolate and listen to some music on his headphones. Which is why he didn’t notice Ladybug asking him for help until she tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped in surprise at that, before he pulled off his headphones. “Ladybug,” he said, “How did you get here?”

She smiled guiltily at him. “You didn’t lock your windows, '' she explained. Nino shrank in embarrassment. Of course he had forgotten. His apartment was so high up, but really, that wouldn’t stop any akumas or Miraculous wiekders. He’d have to be more careful in the future.

“Oh, uh, right,” Nino said. “Why are you here, Ladybug? I kinda thought I was retired after the whole Miracle Queen thing.”

“You are,” Ladybug said, nervously. “You most definitely are. It’s just that Chat Noir was hit by one of those beams, and I don’t have time to explain everything to someone new, and this akuma is no joke…”

“Say no more,” Nino answered, eager to see Wayzz again. He really did miss the little guy. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank goodness,” Ladybug breathed a sigh of relief. Then she straighten up. “Nino Lahiffe, this is the Miraculous of the Turtle, which grants the power of protection. You will use it for the greater good.” Nino gave his buddy, Wayzz, a smile as he put on his bracelet.

“Good to see ya, little dude,” Nino said.

“Likewise,” Wayzz said nodding. “I’m glad to see you too, even if it is for one last time.”

“Wayzz!” Nino cried. “Shell on!”

“Okay,” Ladybug said. “The akuma’s only a few blocks from here, and I’ve already sent King Monkey and Ryuko over to deal with him too. I need you to help them distract the akuma and Chat Noir while I get more reenforcements. The victims like to attack heroes more than civilians too, so I’m sure they’ll appreciate someone watching their backs.”

“You got it, Ladybug,” Carapace said, saluting Ladybug before the two went their separate ways. With any luck, this whole thing would be fixed before anybody else came home and no one would be none the wiser. Course, Carapace knew that things sometimes didn’t go quite his way, so he also prepared the mental excuses for why he’d be gone if Mom and Dad did get back home before him.

When he made his way to the akuma, the situation was a mess. The streets were lousy with akuma victims, so much that it was hard to see the pavement underneath the thick masses of bodies around Ryuko and King Monkey. The two of them kept trying to get to higher ground, out of the reach of the masses, but as a collectivem they grabbed and pulled at the heroes, constantly dragging them back down to their level. The one time that Ryuko did manage to escape, Chat Noir leapt after her, taunting her by waggling his finger and tsking at her, before knocking her back into the masses.

Watching from the rooftops, Carapace decided that King Monkey was the bigger priority to get loose. After all, he could disrupt the akuma’s power and stop him from making all those victims come to him. So, Carapace hurled his shield into the crowd and forced them to disperse away from King Monkey.

As soon as he was able, King Monkey leapt up and called out “UPROAR”, summoning himself a luau shirt that he hurled right at the doctor. It smacked him right in the face and knocked him off of his perch. The doctor’s disk short circuited and began zapping everyone around him, freeing some people, converting others, and even converting a few into full mirror statues.

Terrified, Carapace put a shelter around the akuma, out of sheer desperation for it all to stop. When it worked, much to his shock, he wondered why he hadn’t done it in the first place.

-Chat Noir is revealed to be Adrien after he times out from Cataclysming King Monkey

-Everyone is shocked, but Ryuko, hoping that Adrien is not completely gone, tries to talk some sense into him, annoying the akuma

-Seeing the nasty look on his face, Carapace realizes that the akuma’s about to order Adrien to attack Ryuko

-Carapace throws his shield to defend her, as Adrien tries to punch her in the face

-his shield nails the akuma square in the face

-Enraged, the akuma orders Adrien to kill Carapace, and Adrien begins to chase them.

-Upon seeing that other heroes have shown up, he orders Plagg to use Cataclysm on the area around them to cause maximum chaos and flees

-Adrien chases down Nino with surprising speed as they navigate the building crumbling around them.

-At one point, a wall falls between Carapace and Adrien. For a moment, Carapace worries about Adrien before he sees Adrien get up through a hole in the wall and breathes a sigh in relief as he realizes that Adrien can’t possibly get to him now.

-Only for Adrien to see the hole and start trying to claw his way through it, pulling apart the rebar to make way. Horrified at the damage Adrien’s doing to himself, and terrified of the building falling on top of them, Carapace helps make the hole bigger, and drags Adrien through, deciding to hold him tight enough that he can’t do anything and casting Shellter to protect them.

-When he does, Carapace soon realizes that Adrien has stopped struggling to get him, and is just standing there.

-Finally free of his mind control, Adrien tells Carapace that he thinks they’re safe

-Then Adrien realizes his ring is gone and panics

-Carapace tells him that Hawkmoth stole his ring and tries to comfort him

#trick or treat #deleted scene #deleted fic #my fic #carapace #chat noir #adrien agreste #So many decisions unexplained #This has been rewritten

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