#MOBS punk band | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echekate · 4 months

Text

Zombie apocalypse AU HCs

gn!reader x Hobie Brown

tw: violence, wounds, blood, mentions of amputation

So AU where you live in a zombie apocalypse, like a year after the catastrophy. You belong to a town of survivors and Hobie is a loner who prefers to survive on his own tho he doesn't mind other ppl if they don't threaten him.

You're one of scouts of your town who go outside and search for all sorts of supplies and maybe even other survivors who might need help and want to join your commune.

You just do your usual thing, rummaging through an old abandoned building when suddenly you drop something or make any other kind of loud noise and it appears that this building is not so abandoned after all - there's quite a company of groaning monsters who now really want to take a bite from you.

So of course you run for your life but the only way is up the stairs and the small mob almost corners you in one of the corridors when suddenly a door opens and you get dragged inside by a strong hand. The door immediately closes behind you, and now it's just the two of you in a small room that seems to be safe enough.

You try to aim your gun at the stranger, but your hands shake violently and there's not much you can do, so the guy smirks at your attempts but still raises his hands to show you he's harmless.

That's how you and Hobie meet each other.

It only takes you so much time to calm down and realise he's no threat. You share your food with him to thank him and talk quietly, patiently waiting for the groaning horde to go away.

It's funny to see a guy so dedicated to certain aesthetics in the middle of the apocalypse. Wearing jeans and leather, having a bat with nails and his guitar on him, combined with an immense amount of piercings he has, he looks so unmistakably punk. Yeah, he looks like a cool guy. Acts like one, too, offering you a grin, his name, a handshake to go with it and a small talk.

"A townie, huh?" Hobie chuckles with a touch of disdain when you tell him you're not a loner, that you're from a town. Something in his voice makes you wonder if there's more to it than a simple 'i'm cooler bc i don't need anyone to survive'.

And only much, much later you'll find out that he used to live in a town, too, but the leader (might be Osborn haha) went nuts, turned into a dictator, pressured people he was supposed to protect, and Hobie organised a riot and ended up killing him. He left after that and now he doesn't trust communes and their self-proclaimed leaders.

He helps you to get out of the building when it's safe and you almost leave to be on your way when it hits you it might be useful to pair up with an experienced survivor like him. And he hasn't had company for a while now, so he just shrugs and agrees.

It's easier to travel together. You navigate zombie-crouded places with ease, watching each other's back, you talk when it's safe (and hell does Hobie like himself a good talk after only being able to talk to himself for a while). You quickly find out that teasing each other is hella fun and it takes him only about two days to come up with a nickname for you - maybe something made from your name or maybe something stupid from all those jokes you share.

Once you reach another town and settle in a house that has decent fence, Hobie starts a fire and soon you hear him strumming something on his guitar. He's glad if you decide to sing along. And if you play guitar, too, he'd hand it to you, but just before you grab it he'd pull it away for a moment and squint his eyes at you. "Jus' don't break it, luv", he smirks before finally handing it to you. And if you sing - damn, he'd definitely start missing his being in a band days and promise you to write a duet for you two.

Sometimes you try to convince him to come with you to your town but he just shrugs and laughs it off. He doesn't yet tell why he's so stubborn about it, and you know better than to pry.

Your expedition goes calmly until the last village on your way where you encounter raiders. They shoot first and you don't really have a choise but put down two of them. You find a hiding spot before any of you gets shot, but the next day when you plan to leave and head back to your town they notice you. And, well, of course they want revenge.

You flee both from raiders and zombies attracted by the gunfire, navigating the narrow alley filled with junk, and where you slip with ease, Hobie suddenly falls trying to jump off something and gets an iron rod right through his thigh.

Putting all the trouble with removing it aside, that's how you and Hobie both end up back in your town. You were supposed to part ways, but it's not like you could just leave him after everything you've been through together. His wound is festering by the time you reach safety, you tried to give him meds, but it only did so much in holding the infection back. Thankfully now the doctors can look after him.

He gets better gradually and soon enough you let him move into your place. After all, you were the one to bring him to the town, so now you're kind of responsible. He's not particularly happy to be there, but trust me, he'd choose his words of distaste less carefully if it was anyone but you with him.

He needs time to recover in safety, but the town is suffocating, so you find a harmless enough decision and start inviting him outside to hunt. Nothing but short sorties not too far from the town walls, but he feels better. And honestly? It's a good time to bond. Winter comes and you spend your nights outside in abandoned hunting lodges, resting close to each other to preserve the heat.

It's back to back first, then you share blankets, and soon enough it turns into cuddling - either it's spooning or Hobie just pulls your head into his chest and wraps his long arms aroung you. You're supposed to take care of him and help him recover, but in those moments you feel taken care of. Small. Maybe even loved. Not something you feel often in this dying shit of a world.

And when the winter passes, Hobie suddenly realises that he doesn't really want to leave. I wonder why,,,,,,

A little extra: I feel like if you ever get bitten or scratched, Hobie would NOT hesitate to take your wounded limb away. He's not the type to wait till it turns into 'either i kill them or they turn into a monster' drama, he just wants to save as much of you as he can. And knowing how good he is with crafting things, he'd probably be the one to make you a prosthesis to replace it, too.

-------------------------------------------------------

pt. 1 | pt.2

#hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown fic #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv x reader #atsv #hobie brown x you

73 notes · View notes

punkrockhistory · 2 months

Text

In memory of Grant Vernon Hart, American musician, drummer and co-songwriter for the alternative rock and hardcore punk band Hüsker Dü, singer and guitarist of Nova Mob, born on this day in 1961, St. Paul, Minnesota

#punk #punks #punkrock #hardcorepunk #granthart #huskerdu #hüskerdü #history #punkrockhistory #otd

28 notes · View notes

nakunatta-fujihana · 2 months

Text

Yuu Fujisaki ─ An Abridged Biography

─BASIC

FULL NAME: Yuu Fujisaki (藤咲、夕)

BIRTHDAY: January 28th (Aquarius)

AGE: 18 (By the start of Twst)

HEIGHT: 173 cm

DOMINANT HAND: Ambidextrous

HOMELAND: Tokyo, Japan

GRADE/CLASS: Freshman/Class A (No. 8)

CLUB: Gourmet Club/Light Music Club (Unnoficial)

BEST SUBJECT: History of Magic

HOBBIES: Writing

PET-PEEVES: Responsibility

FAVORITE FOOD: Anything sweet

LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Nattou

TALENT: Song-writing

─FAMILY

Hiroshi Fujisaki (藤咲、寛) (Paternal Great Uncle/Deceased)

Nagisa Fujisaki (藤咲、凪咲) ( Paternal Grandfather)

Aya Fujisaki (藤咲、あや) (Paternal Grandmother)

Ataru Fujisaki （藤咲、陽） (Father)

Kanna Fujisaki（藤咲、環花）(Mother)

Kotonoha Fujisaki (藤咲、言葉) (Older sister-6 years apart)

Izumi Fujisaki (藤咲、いずみ) (Future brother-in-law)

Nagihko Fujisaki (藤咲、凪彦) (Paternal cousin-3 years apart)

Kamui Fujisaki (Paternal Uncle) （藤咲、奏紫）

─EXTRA

GENDER | PRONOUNS: Cis Male | He/Him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homosexual

HAIR COLOR: Indigo

HAIR TEXTURE: 2A

EYE COLOR: Mauve

SPECIES: Human

RACE: East Asian

REALM OF ORIGIN: Earth

NATIONALITY: Japanese

AURA: Purple/Blue

SIGNATURE SCENT: Eucalyptus and Lavender

FAVORITE FLOWER: Orange Blossoms

MBTI: INFJ

FASHION SENSE: Japanese Mode/Casual Punk

NICKNAMES:

Shrimpy

Wiz kid

Yuu-yuu

Fujisaki Shintarō IV (Stagename)

OCCUPATIONS:

Clinical Psychology Student

Onnagata

Musician

Ramshackle Dorm Prefect

CONDITIONS:

Chronic Bad Luck: No matter how hard Yuu tries to stay out of trouble, he seems to always encounter something to ruin his day. At this point, he is used to his life being the embodiment of Murphy’s Law.

Aphantasia: Yuu has a rare disorder in which he cannot picture things inside his mind. The only exception to this are the dreams he has during his stay at Twisted Wonderland. This makes him completely useless with drawing, painting or any visual art endeavor.

Dust Mite Allergy: Yuu is severely allergic to dust, if exposed to too much of it he can even end up bedridden or trigger an asthma attack.

Nicotine Addiction: Yuu sometimes smokes as a way to relieve stress, and though he does not do it often, he is still in need of at least a cig a week.

ABILITIES:

Renaissance Man: Yuu is naturally gifted. Even though he could’ve skipped multiple grades and entered university at a rather young age, Yuu’s parents opted to only let him skip one grade so he would learn to socialize with children his age. This often led to him skipping class and playing hooky out of sheer boredom.

Musical Experience: After being coerced into his crush’s Light Music Club in High School, Yuu has gained a liking to music─ Yuu is now very proficient in both bass, guitar and singing.

Spirit sight and communication: due to a near-death experience, Yuu has been granted the ability to see and interact with spirits.

Kabuki Training: Yuu was raised to succeed his grandfather as the heir of their Kabuki Troupe and school from a very young age. Due to this fact, he is classically trained in acting, Nihon Buyo, flower arrangement, calligraphy and Shamisen.

─TRIVIA

Yuu’s voice claim is based on vibes and vibes only. He is a mix in between SymaG, Kanseru, Araki and Megatara Zero

Yuu’s favorite artists are Gorillaz, The Oral Cigarettes, Kenshi Yonezu and 9mm Parabellum Bullet.

Yuu is a clean freak, he cannot concentrate if the space he inhabits is dirty or not in order.

On earth, Yuu is part of a relatively popular indie rock band named Schrödinger, he uses a mask and an alias to keep his identity hidden from fans.

Yuu’s favorite anime and manga series is Mob Psycho 100 and Chainsaw Man.

Yuu is a practicing shintoist and extremely supersticious.

─STATS

STRENGTH: ★★☆☆☆

STAMINA: ★★★☆☆

DEFENSE: ★★★★☆

DEXTERITY: ★★★★★

INTELLIGENCE: ★★★★★ +2

WISDOM: ★★★★☆

MAGIC: N/A

VITALITY: ★☆☆☆☆

STEALTH: ★★★☆☆

LUCK: ☆☆☆☆☆

ACCURACY: ★★★★★

SPEED: ★★☆☆☆

#biography #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #twst oc #rp blog

31 notes · View notes

safety-pin-punk · 4 months

Note

FYI: the author of that ""they deserve to die" is something you should never hear a leftist say. if you do, run" post is a Zionist. I guess that mindset doesn't apply to brown people, huh?

But also, you should consider that this is an extremely shallow view of leftism and violence as a tactic. What, you're a "punk" and you think any punk space got safe without a few nazis getting their teeth kicked in? They didn't. Sorry.

I hope you develop a punk mindset that's a little less about shitty bands and an aesthetic and a little more about having firmer political opinions and not agreeing with Zionists.

Your concern in the first paragraph was addressed in a previous post I’ll link to here.

Going off of that, I’m not sure what on my blog, besides the controversy surrounding this specific post (which again has already been addressed), would ever make you think that I would exclude anyone from the statement of ‘we shouldn't say anyone deserves to die’??? I simply. Do not think humans should be killing other humans. At all. Anywhere. On either side of any war. Like. One human should not be granted the power to decide the lifespan of another in my opinion

On that note, being anti-war is actually both a very punk stance AND a left-wing movement. Though I agree, it is a shallow view of leftism. Because leftism is SO much more than a single movement (like the civil rights movement, the feminist movement, the LGBTQ+ movement, the environmentalism movement, anarchy, socialism, the labor movement, and GOD the list goes on). But also. It *does* include being anti-war and anti-'they deserve to die'.

As far as Punk being anti-war and taking non-violent approaches to the larger socio-political changes in the world, I'd recommend looking into Peace Punk. It was very popular in the 70's and early 80's with bands like Subhumans, Zounds, and The Mob. Here's a great beginner article on it!

As to your point about nazis. I promise you I'm not oblivious to the history behind the phrase 'Nazi Punks Fuck Off'. I also would have hoped that someone would be able to see nuance in a statement that say 'lets not say everyone deserves death' and not read it as 'we should let nazis do what they want'. Because that would be stupid. And if you've interacted with my blog for any real length of time, then you would know that I ALWAYS support punching nazis. But evidently that must have slipped your brain.

Now as far as this part of your ask: "I hope you develop a punk mindset that's a little less about shitty bands and an aesthetic and a little more about having firmer political opinions"

First of all buddy, I think I've already demonstrated that my political opinions are pretty firmly set (and that someone hoping on anon isn't going to change them). Personally, I don't feel the need to scream about my political stances every second of the day to make myself feel validated and like a good person. Because I have a life outside of the internet. But you do you I guess. I would however say that its kinda a dick move to just assume that others aren't well educated or have developed opinions when you've evidently only looked at a single post on my blog without actually looking at my blog. Otherwise you would have seen the EXTENSIVE amount of research and punk culture that I've written about or collected either on my own or in collaboration with others.

Really its either that you just didn't look, or because you didn't immediately agree with me, that you decided that my political views had a very shaky foundation. In which case, please do grow the fuck up and learn how to deal with people that have differing opinions than you without being a bitch and ranting about it on anon thanks.

Also. I like my 'shitty bands'. Get over it (Also like. Punk is inherently connected to music and shitty bands? Do you not know that? Do you understand where punk even comes from? I'm all for not needing to listen to punk music to be a punk as long as you align with other facets of the counter culture, but being told NOT to focus on music that is politically charged and full of punk values and history. Well that's a new one lol)

And lastly. Dude if you don't like me, you don't have to be here? You can leave? No one is forcing you to read anything on my blog??? Bye???

#mail tag #yeaaahhhhhhhh if your a dick to me I'll be one right back

22 notes · View notes

shutupthepunx111 · 6 months

Text

mp100 band au is this anything

i have an idea for an au for a fic that i will probably never write ok yall tell me if this is trash

(it would be ritsu-centric, i think, but im not sure)

so instead of ESP, mob is a guitar ingenue and is insanely talented, and ritsu is very, VERY jealous of this and wants to be in a band so hard.

reigen is running a shady record label or venue (cant decide which) and becomes mob's mentor/manager, essentially teaching mob how to actually perform onstage as well as play music (because reigen can't play for shit but ill be damned if he isnt flashy as hell)

teru has a band that he sings lead for, but mob gets a lot of buzz and so obviously he gets angry and they have a lame 2000s movie battle of the bands and then decide to join up and form their own band

mob and tsubomi used to play music together when they were younger, and that's how mob got into it in the first place - tsubomi plays bass and wanted somebody to jam with, mob immediately volunteered

shou is in a rly tough punk band, and his dad owns a large corporate conglomerate (think clear channel or livenation or iheartmedia) so shou decided fuck this etc etc and rebels against him (he plays drumsb fucking obviously)

he and ritsu meet when ritsu is tending bar at one of mob's shows, shou starts trash talking mob and ritsu is like uhh hey. dont fufkcing do that and anyway he gets roped into shou's band

eventually they all form a band together. im unsure where serizawa and tome fit into it all but you know.

lots of this is actually inspired by the song ride the vibe by dim wizard:)

thats it thats the idea!

#mp100 #band au #mob #ritsu kageyama #shigeo kageyama #mob psycho 100 #shou suzuki #teruki hanazawa #reigen arataka #long post #sort of

30 notes · View notes

sunflowersoldat · 8 months

Text

All is Fair ~ Chip and a Chair (Epilogue Pt. 2)

Epilogue Pt. 2

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: Bad language words.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 1.3K

A/N: This is it! Steve and Ace's story has come to an end, I have enjoyed sharing their story with you! It's been a really long journey, and I love this series, it has been bittersweet to write these last few parts. I digress, I hope you enjoy this chapter and have enjoyed the series!

Bucky sat at Steve’s desk, massaging the bridge of his nose, his shoulders tense. Everything was finally starting to run smoothly, it had been utter chaos when he had returned to New York without Steve. He knew the job was hard and Steve shouldered most of the weight of the stress and responsibility. Bucky supposed he really hadn’t understood how much Steve truly shielded them from; how much he handled on his own.

Although business had been running smoother now, he couldn’t take credit for it, not even Sam or Wanda had taken the reins. But Queens, he stepped up without hesitation, gave orders with a confidence Bucky had only seen in him within the last year: when it had to do with Ace.

The kid was turning out to be a miniature version of Steve, but somehow better. Queens was merciful and soft, unless it dealt with the men, he gave orders that didn’t leave room for rebuttals. Was a bit of a hard-ass, especially with him and Sam, but he valued what they had to say. Taking their expertise into consideration, he respected them, they were family, but business was business and he was very no nonsense about it.

The knock at the office door shook him from his thoughts. Wanda stepped into the room, auburn hair gathered over one shoulder, long and unbound. A resigned look in her eyes, they were all exhausted, they missed their boss; their brother.

A small smile reluctantly pulled at her lips, “The desk job doesn't suit you…”

The glimmer of playfulness giving the smallest amount of light to her eyes, “Someone’s gotta do it.”

She nods slowly, walking closer as she places the daily mail in front of him on the desk, she sighs. “I can think of a good replacement,” her brows raise in emphasis, eyes shifting to the open door.

Bucky shakes his head, “When Steve gets back he can promote the kid,” sifting through the envelopes, one with his name scrawled across the front without any addresses catches his eye.

“It’s been a year Bucky…”

He holds up his metal hand, face hardening, “Who delivered the mail?”

Wanda shrugs, “I’m not sure it was on the front desk when I arrived. Why?”

His name is elegantly scrawled on the front, his heart thundered in his chest, he isn't familiar with the penmanship. Inside, is a postcard, the picture on the front is of a couple, the angle off kilter, a little blurry, like the camera is being swatted away. A delicate female hand blocks most of the view of their faces. His stomach folds, he can make out two sets of very familiar eyes. The glint of a silver band is seen on the inside of her hand, circling her ring finger. Flipping the postcard he is met with familiar handwriting that he’s known for most of his life:

Buck, I don’t know what to say. I could tell you ‘I am sorry’ but that would be a lie. What I can say is, I’m fine. More than that actually, I’m happy. If it wasn’t clear, I won't be coming back, the business is all yours pal. I trust you to do the right thing. Don’t bother looking for me, as far as the world knows, Steve Rogers is dead. I hope all is well with the family. Love you Buck, Punk. P.s Angel says ‘Hello, Boinky’ and to ‘quit wallowing in self hatred and regret.’

“Sonofabitch,” Bucky breathes. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips or the near hysterical laugh that bursts from his chest. Wanda’s eyes widen as she pulls the card from his grasp, fresh tears prick at her eyes, slipping down her cheeks.

“He found her?” She whispers.

Bucky quiets himself, pulling the wild card from his pocket. “I had my suspicions… She left this for me, knowing I’d understand what it meant.”

Wanda slaps at his arm, “You didn’t think you should tell us?!”

He chuckles, “I had to be sure. Now, I am sure.”

She huffs, a smile breaking across her face, “You’re a bastard Barnes.” Her tone is everything but serious as she rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back to the postcard.

She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Sam knocking on the open office door, “You got a visitor Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not now.”

Sam raises his brows, pursing his lips, “Yeah good luck with that.”

A blonde enters the room, he had run into her many times in the past, but didn’t consider her a friend.

“Detective Carter.” He greeted her coolly, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She smiled deviously, “I thought I would stop by and offer a bit of information…” she pauses sucking her teeth, badge glistening on her hip as she sways, “let’s just say, if something happened to Steve’s business and his family, I’d make an enemy out of a very good friend.”

Bucky raised a brow, but remained silent.

“So Barnes, I’m here to tell you to keep a keen eye on yourself and your men, and if you need anything, just give me a call.”

The detective and right hand to the dealer blinked at him in boredom, she was deadly, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder why she worked for Zemo, what had caused her to become a dirty cop. For now he would play nice, he knew he should be thanking you for ensuring no more blood was shed, but he didn’t trust any of them for a second.

He nodded, rising from his seat, offering the detective his hand. She took it, “I look forward to working with you Detective Carter.”

Her smile again split her lips, it surprised something deep within him that her teeth weren’t filed into dagger-like points, “Likewise Mr. Barnes.”

She turned from him and began leaving, but stopped abruptly, “Oh, and by the way, Fury told me the FBI is sending in a team from Boston: Nicknamed Bull and White, also known as The Sharks. They specialize in putting your kind behind bars.”

Turning she blew him a kiss, “Goodluck.”

Sam and Wanda share a look, but Sam clears his throat, “No better time to test the kid’s resolve than now…”

“We’d be throwing him into the lion’s den!” Bucky snapped, running his hand through his hair.

“He’ll do fine Buck, he’s got us.” Sam pushes.

As if on cue, Peter walks into the room, “was that Detective Carter?”

His voice falters, taking in the group now staring at him.

Bucky takes a deep breath, “So Boss, what’s our next move?”

Peter only hesitates for a second before a smile curves his lips, “I think we need to speak with our new friends Pepper, Zemo, and Yelena before we move forward.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile on his face, “You heard him, call a meeting. No one steps foot in this city without us knowing about it.”

Sam and Wanda move to leave the room, “And for fucks sake, find out who these jokers Bull and White are!”

As Bucky leaves, Peter stops him, “You think I can handle it?”

Bucky shakes his head, “better than anyone I know kid…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. Though Peter and his relationship has mended little by little, it would never be what it was before Ace crashed into their lives. “They’d be proud of you kid. Hell, I’m proud of you and with you every step of the way.”

A smile curved Peter’s lips, “be my Right Hand?”

“For you? Anything. You want this public?”

Peter shook his head, “no, not yet. Let them think you took over in Steve’s absence. But when the time is right…”

Bucky nodded in understanding, Yelena may have taken over Thor’s territory, Pepper may have taken Tony’s place, they may all be getting along now, but people would still come from all over to stake their claim.

There were always bigger fish, and now there was blood in the water.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

31 notes · View notes

savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 5 months

Text

CLASSIC RÅPUNK POWER TRIO GIVES A HUGE SHOUT-OUT TO U.S. HARDCORE.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on Swedish råpunk/kängpunk band MOB 47, c. 1983-'84. Members included: Chrille on drums, Jögge on bass guitar/vocals, and Åke on lead guitar/vocals.

ZINE Q: "Influences in MOB 47?"

CHRILLE: "We are influenced by bands like POISON IDEA, M.D.C., GANG GREEN, MINOR THREAT, TERVEET KÄDET, VARUKERS, G.B.H. and of course DISCHARGE."

Dis nightmare still @$*!#&% continues!!

Source: http://notecalleszine.blogspot.com/2016/12/interview-mob-47.html?m=1.

1 note · View note

perlukafarinn · 23 days

Text

This has been done a million times before and no one asked but I decided to rank the songs from Nerdy Prudes Must Die.

Let's go Nighthawks!

15. Cool As I Think I Am

I actually do love this song but when I listen to the full album, it’s one of only two songs I sometimes skip. The sound of it is very sweet, just like Pete, and it’s a great song to establish his character and his conflict in stepping outside his set social role (also props for originating the “I’m not a loser” refrain that repeats several times throughout the show to great effect). It’s just maybe not as exciting as the rest of the songs on the list.

14. Bully the Bully

Very catchy and fun, and the “cool beans” verse holds a special place in my heart (as do Grace’s little spins). Half the fun of it are the (very cute) dance moves which makes this song a little less effective when just listening to it. I love the guitar riffs and hearing all the nerds teaming up and happy for the only scene in the entire show.

13. Bury the Bully

I don’t usually prefer the shorter reprise but this song is too unhinged for me not to love it. Some highlights: Grace’s immediate acceptance of the situation and detailed knowledge in disposing of a body (and the casual “how else he gonna fit?” like she’s not suggesting something absolutely psychotic), “oh god, she’s snapping again”, Ruth coming around faster than the rest of the nerds because she’s apparently only slightly less unhinged than Grace, the discordant slamming on the piano keys after every “hack all his limbs off”.

12. Dirty Dudes Must Die

Would be much higher if only it were longer. This was the heel-face turn I was waiting for and Angela absolutely kills it, the deranged energy is off the charts. Grace singing “who will pray for you” and pointing at the audience gives me chills as does that final “run”. It feels like another story is just beginning.

11. Go Go Nighthawks!

I love all the sounds in this song - the beats that sound like lockers closing, the school band drums and trumpets, the jocks grunting and the “caw caws” from the cheerleaders. They add so much and convey such a strong sense of the setting, a must for a show that doesn’t really have any sets lmao. Also, fuck Clivesdale!

10. The Best of You

This song is just super cute and it makes me happy to listen to - Lautski own my entire heart, I can’t help it. Many have pointed out the Disney channel sound of it but it also reminds me a lot like those mid 2000s pop punk British boybands (think McFly and Busted) and I think that was deliberate with the British accent Joey and Mariah put on a couple of the lines. Anyway, I love how overwhelmingly bright and happy this song sounds, because it almost rounds back to sinister as you just know this can’t be the end of the show - we don’t get endings this happy in Hatchetfield!

9. Just For Once

This is the other song I sometimes skip but only because it’s five minutes long and such a character piece that I’m not always in the mood for it. Lauren blows me away with her ability to perform in character. That switch from Ruth’s amateur acting in the verses to the more sincere chorus is so beautiful. And that ending, oof. “I used to dance”, gets me every time.

8. Hatchet Town

I love a good mob song and this is an all time favorite for me. The Hatchetverse has been successful in establishing a multitude of interesting side characters that make the world feel lived in and that really pays off here; the song works if you don’t know most of the characters but it’s so much better if you do.

This is the first scene in the show that expands the story outside the school and the characters there, and it makes the danger feel all the more pressing, especially with how frantic and sinister it sounds. It’s also endlessly quotable; in a way, aren’t we all Dan Reynolds (with Action News, weekdays at 10 PM)?

7. Dirty Girl

Seems like I’m a much bigger fan of this song than many but I could never resist a musical theater song about sex. I love how weird and gross this song is while also containing some masterful lyrics. I love this bizarre look at sex through Grace’s warped, sheltered worldview. Most of all, I love that this is the first time we hear the line “will you pray for me” in the show and every time it appears after it’s in a wildly different context.

6. Cool As I Think I Am (Reprise)

This song makes me cry and I’m not afraid to admit it. It's the way Pete starts the song being so brave and so gentle as he convinces Steph to make an impossible choice, how they come together in the middle of it, finally completely honest with each other about their feelings, and how at the end the song slows as they’re both overwhelmed by the tragedy of the situation. “I’d have to let you go” let me go curl up and cry for a week, maybe.

5. High School Is Killing Me

A killer intro (heh). This is how you set the mood for a show! The slow start with Richie and Ruth is perfect and then the beat kicks in and I ascend to a higher level. A really strong aspect of the songs in this show are the harmonies and we get some incredible ones here - they sound so good together. This may also be the catchiest song on the soundtrack.

4. The Summoning

Oh my god this song!! First the intro with the chant, the trio’s bright voices underscored by the creepy whispers in the background, and then the descent into immediate chaos as soon as the Lords enter. I guess this is more of a “theatrical” song in that it’s not really something you listen to out of context of the musical but it works so incredibly well in context. Hearing all five of the lords together and taunting our protagonists is so insanely good. And I love how this song works musically, too, with the guitars and drums in the louder parts almost battling it out with the piano in the slower parts. Jeff Blim really popped off with this one.

3. Literal Monster

God, the foreboding atmosphere in this song is unmatched. The incredible build-up to our antagonist, managing to make a believable threat out of a cliched high school bully. Kim Whalen belting “He roars, and we cry” lives rent free in my mind. And then Will Branner shows up and lives up to every single expectation instantly.

2. Nerdy Prudes Must Die

Extremely basic opinion to think this song is great (the real unpopular take might be that it’s only number two) but what do you want me to say? That the similarities to the Halloween theme don’t make me wanna clap my hands with glee? That the music and lyrics don’t both absolutely slap? (“Will you pray for me” I will give you my entire life actually) That Jon Matteson belting “I’m not a loser” might not be the single greatest moment in the entire show? This is why they invented musical theater. I will take no further questions.

1. If I Loved You

Look I am Lautski trash, I will fully admit that, but this song is also just a bop. It’s the most fun song in the show to sing along to, by a mile. It is young, stubborn love boiled down to its most entertaining bits. It is two people almost coming together but missing each other by a hair and that hair is having too much pride to be the first to admit you’ve got a crush. This song has drama, it has fun, it has two characters vehemently denying their feelings for each other while insisting the other only deserves the best. “Don’t need a lover boy, need a lover man” marry me, Mariah Rose. How about that? Also, Joey Richter’s improvement as a singer has been severely underappreciated and this song shows his voice off perfectly.

I am ranting but that’s because I cannot coherently express how much I love this song. In a soundtrack filled with nothing but hits, this one hits me right in the heart.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #starkid #found this in my google docs #i wrote it like two months ago and i don't remember why i didn't post it then #i'm not 100% sure i still fuck with this ranking but it's close enough that i don't feel like changing it

12 notes · View notes

waywardrose · 7 months

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 22

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.1k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Things are looking up? Kinda? 🥳?

The overhead lighting of the hospital’s waiting room hurt your working right eye. The ER doctor said your left cornea looked burned, yet it didn’t respond like a burn. He’d thought it odd you retained your eyelashes.

Naturally, you hadn’t explained you’d been hit by a dark wizard’s curse.

The doctor had also thought your heart sounded odd. Of course it did, you wanted to say. It had been still for too long. In that time, the fourth gate opened and the earth split. The fissure started under you and snaked through the Creel house, burning Jason Carver alive.

Erica had pulled your lax body away before the fissure burned you, too.

You’d fallen into life with a gasp, eyes opening for the first time since the long silence. You flailed to drag yourself off the bloody thorns. They hadn’t been there. You latched onto Erica’s arms. Her energy swirled in a confusing vortex of green and gold, red and black. She’d said something to you in a panic, yet you couldn’t parse the meaning.

The attic behind her had been lit in blue and orange — the colors of fire.

You hadn’t been able to see Lucas or Max, though you could feel them. Something was wrong. You turned your head in their direction. Lucas held a limp Max in his lap and wept. Max’s arm hung at all the wrong angles.

You saw the side of your nose and realized your vision had been halved. The Veil of Undeath was gone. You’d exposed yourself and protected Max from Vecna.

If that were the case, why wasn’t she conscious?

“We need a hospital!” cried Lucas.

Hospital. Yes. Injured Max. You had a car.

You’d flopped to your side. The fissure’s heat blasted your face. The mob returned your screams tenfold. Their faces expressionless, mouths open and eyes seared. The ground trembled before you soared into the air— Erica pulled you away by the shoulder and arm.

Your voice sounded scoured when you said, “Keys.”

“You can’t drive,” she said.

“I’ll be okay.” You met her eyes. “We’ll be okay.”

She’d looked as if preparing for an argument.

You put a hand on her forearm.

“I can do it.”

There was no alternative. Out of the four of you, three were conscious and only one knew how to drive. Furthermore, if the four gates were open, the fissures had affected hundreds. Ambulances had already been dispatched. Your car was the best option.

She’d helped you lurch to your feet. You swayed for a second, your body not knowing what to do. It had been lifeless for too long.

You couldn’t recall much of the drive to the hospital. Lucas sat in the back with Max. Erica gripped the dashboard and gave directions. You covered your cursed eye to help you focus on dodging fleeing wildlife and hysterical drivers. Then you were parking under the porte cochere for the emergency room. Staff rushed out, stabilized Max on a board, and retreated with her into the hospital.

The nurses conducting triage in the waiting room had insisted you and Lucas be examined.

Your tending doctor wanted to admit you to run tests on your heart and call in an eye specialist, but you couldn’t be confined to a hospital bed when the rest of the party — Eddie — was still out there. They might need help. So, you refused further treatment, saying you’d make an appointment with your regular doctor because you felt fine.

You did not feel fine.

The stressed staff hadn’t argued. A nurse taped a pressure patch over your eye and gave you one with a strap for later. She examined the lump on your head and the bruise on your jaw. She gave you a cold pack, recommending rest and painkillers. You pressed the cold pack to your head, but it hardly dulled the bombardment happening inside your skull.

Before you left the ER, the same nurse handed you a print-out with care instructions. You’d folded the print-out without reading it and stuffed it in your purse.

Lucas stood at the check-in desk, talking with the clerk. He held a cold pack to his eye with a bandaged hand. You came up beside him and offered a soft “hey.” The corners of his mouth lifted when he looked at you.

The clerk ended their call with a sigh.

“There are no new developments with Miss Mayfield. She’s in Orthopedics and set for surgery within the hour.”

You asked, “Is she awake?”

The clerk glanced between you and Lucas.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

Lucas’s face fell. You took his uninjured hand, thanked the clerk, and led him away from the check-in desk. His fingers curled around your hand. You could offer no other comfort beyond it. Assurances or promises would be hollow.

“They called our parents,” he said.

You nodded. When you’d checked in for treatment, the staff demanded your insurance card and parents’ phone number. They hadn’t said anything about it afterward.

“Did they get through?” you asked.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“I think I’ve got some quarters, if you want to try.”

Erica leaned against a wall in the waiting room, walkie bandoliered across her chest. Lucas stood next to her as you riffled in your purse for change. After handing over a few quarters, you took Lucas’s place and propped your pounding head on the wall.

Lucas returned a couple of minutes later, face grim. You straightened and swallowed around a dry throat.

“Got the answering machine.”

“They’re on their way, then,” said Erica.

He slumped beside her.

“I can’t leave Max.”

“Mom and Dad won’t understand. We can come back tomorrow.”

You said, “I can pick you up in the morning.”

The walkie crackled to life before he could reply. You jolted, which made you wince. Lucas turned to her as a sound like a word sputtered through the speaker. Erica extended the walkie’s antenna.

“Repeat, over,” she said.

“Ohmygod! We’re on our way to the hospital! Ohmygod, ohmygod!” said a female voice. “Over!”

Erica’s eyes went wide. You met her gaze before looking at the walkie.

“We’re there now. ETA? Over.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!”

The walkie went silent for a breathless second.

Another female voice, this one more restrained, said, “ETA ten minutes. Over.”

“Roger that. Over and out.”

Lucas jogged to the check-in desk. Erica retracted the antenna and followed him. You trailed behind, ready to back them up. The clerk believed them, though, and ordered a stretcher for an incoming case. Erica said they were probably coming in a RV. The clerk nodded, adding the porte cochere be cleared.

You went outside to wait. Lucas and Erica joined you. The wine-dark sky appeared flat. In the distance, a fissure glowed orange like hot iron.

The first female voice on the walkie had to have been Robin. The second Nancy. It stood to reason they were fine. That left Steve, Dustin, or — you closed your eye — Eddie.

“You okay?” asked Lucas.

“Yeah, just… My head hurts.”

You thought you might throw up from the idea of Eddie wounded. Or maybe that was just the head trauma.

You turned the cold pack over and pressed the cooler side to your nape. A shiver rolled down your spine. Goosebumps prickled your skin. Both distracted you from the nausea.

Tires squealed, sounding panicked. A big engine chugged at the side of the building. The energy from inside in the vehicle flashed red to orange and back again, sparking yellow.

You opened your eye.

“That’s them.”

You pressed against the building as the RV careened around the corner. Nancy sat behind the wheel. At this distance, you couldn’t read her expression, but you doubted she was laughing.

The emergency team conferred with each other as the RV skidded to a stop. They didn’t wait for anyone inside to open the door. They climbed into the dim interior. More lights flicked on. Voices blurred together.

You wanted to look, wanted someone to tell you who was hurt. Someone pull you out of this hellish unknowing.

From inside, a commanding voice said, “Alright, let’s go!”

You glimpsed wavy brown hair between the team’s arms.

You’d heard of one’s stomach dropping, but you’d never experienced it. Stomach swooping, absolutely, gut tightening, yes, even the proverbial gut punch. But not this. Your stomach was suddenly lead. You couldn’t move. Everything was too heavy.

Each blink of your eye gave you a fresh horror. Blood-splattered leather. Ripped green canvas. Tangled hair. Waxen skin.

You wouldn’t let that be the last you saw of Eddie. You put a hand on the nearest wall and dragged one foot in front of the other. Gathering momentum, you followed the team inside. You passed the check-in desk, dodged wheelchairs and orderlies. Your vision narrowed to the dirty soles of Eddie’s boots.

The team slammed opened a set of double doors. Their mouths formed words, yet no sound came. You caught one of the closing doors. Hands clamped onto your shoulders. Another gripped your upper arm. You jerked out of their hold, but they caught you once more.

You looked left, forgetting the eye patch. You looked right. An orderly said something, but the volume of their voice had been turned too low. They hauled you away from the doors. You clawed for the narrowing gap between the doors — between you and Eddie.

“Let me go!”

The hands left your shoulders and arm. Your ears filled with static. The orderlies stumbled back. The ache in your head dissipated like storm clouds breaking apart. Like clouds changing from heavy gray to gilded white. Just like that first sunset after your magic had manifested. Like a miracle, the evening sky had transformed to mauve and marigold.

You wheeled around, eye wide and fingers tingling. Your powers — or part of them — had returned. The apology you issued to the orderlies sounded as if through water.

The hospital’s corridors blurred as you raced outside. Vecna couldn’t hold on to your power. He was dying or terribly wounded. You needed air. You needed to tell the others about this. Besides, you couldn’t help Eddie if they barred you from visiting.

Outside, your senses cleared, like your ears popping after a change in altitude.

The RV was gone, though. Two empty ambulances had taken its place. Erica and Lucas were nowhere to be seen.

With half your vision gone, you had to turn your head now to see your surroundings. Erica caught your attention with a wave as she waited by the pay-phone a few yards away.

Approaching her, you asked, “Did they leave?”

“No, Nancy’s parking the RV. Everyone else is back here,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“I think they got Vecna.”

“How do you know?”

“I feel different.”

“Like witchy different?”

After you nodded, Erica led the way to a lit courtyard facing the parking lot. Dustin sat sideways on a bench, his right leg propped in front of himself. Steve squatted beside him and wiped at Dustin’s palms with a damp cloth. Lucas stood by Dustin, a supportive hand on his shoulder. Robin perched restlessly at the edge of the next bench.

Robin spotted you and Erica first. She stood, eyes going wide.

“Holy shit.”

Everyone’s focus turned to you and Erica.

Steve straightened, flipping the cloth onto his shoulder.

“What happened?”

Erica said, “She died,” while thumbing at you.

To her, you said, “I think I did a little more than that.”

“Everything was going to plan until Jason Carver showed up.”

“Yeah, Lucas told us that,” said Steve. “But then what?”

You swallowed and wet your lips.

“Jason broke Max’s tape-player during the fight, and there wasn’t time to get mine. So, I protected her as best as I could.”

Robin asked, “And you died?”

“Instead of Max,” Erica said before you could. “Her heart stopped. And a gate opened where she was lying.”

Lucas added, “Max hasn’t woken from Vecna’s curse, either.”

“Okay so, four of the party members are down or injured,” Robin said. “The mega-gate is open. We have no idea how to close it. Or how to kill the psycho wanting to come through it and destroy the world. And if what he showed Nancy is right, we’re all majorly screwed.”

“The fight isn’t over yet,” Nancy said, walking into the courtyard.

Steve nodded in agreement.

“Right—”

You held up a hand.

“Wait, so Vecna’s still alive?”

“Yeah, after Molotov-ing him, shooting him with multiple rounds, and him falling out of a third-story window.”

“I swear, he’s Rasputin,” said Robin.

“So where is he?”

Nancy asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why isn’t he here?” you asked. “Why hasn’t he come through the gate?”

If you were Vecna, you’d be relentless. No one would be ready for you. They’d be recuperating, and you’d catch them unprepared. You’d decimate them.

Nancy shrugged.

“He’s injured.”

Dustin cleared his throat.

“You’ve brought up some good points.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Vecna’s more than a dark wizard. He’s like a lich. Mortal means can’t kill him.”

Steve said, “Dude, your fantasy game isn’t real.”

“No, but undeath is real in both. Hence, there has to be some crossover.”

Lucas’s face scrunched as if to argue.

You nodded, though.

“The Veil of Undeath.”

“So?” said Lucas. “He’s an undead wizard. That doesn’t change the fact we can’t beat him.”

Dustin said, “Only like magic can defeat magic this powerful.”

“Well, El lost her powers and isn’t here—”

A female voice cut through the discussion.

“Lucas Charles Sinclair!”

Lucas cringed, shoulders hunching. Erica backed into the shadows as their mother stomped around the low hedges surrounding the courtyard. Their father accompanied her, eyes sharp but reticent.

“I see you, Erica Anne!”

Erica whispered, “Shit.”

“It’s after midnight! None of you should be out!”

As one of the elder members of the party, you wanted to apologize. After all, you’d kept a middle-schooler out during an apocalypse. And angry mothers were scary.

“But, Mom—”

“Lucas,” said their father in a disapproving tone. “Your mother’s right.”

She said, “We are going home. Right now.”

“But Max is hurt.”

“Are you a doctor, Lucas?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then you can’t do anything for her. You can come back tomorrow. And what happened to your face?!”

Lucas ducked his head.

“Jason Carver.”

“Ja-Jason Carver?! The team captain?”

“Not anymore,” said Erica, stepping around you.

You snorted and dipped your head to hide it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked their mother.

A petulant moue on his face, Lucas said, “Nothing, let’s just go home.”

She put an arm around Erica despite frowning at them. Then she pointed around at the group.

“The rest of you need to get home. Your parents are worried sick.”

Collectively, everyone replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

Their father asked, “Does anyone need a ride home?”

Between your car and the RV, rides were covered.

“No, sir.”

With a nod, he put a hand on Lucas’s shoulder to lead him to the parking lot.

“You kids be careful. Get home safe.”

“Night, guys,” said Lucas.

As the Sinclairs walked away, Nancy said, “I guess we should be getting home.”

You nodded, though you didn’t want to leave Eddie. Your parents were going to ream you a new one. You were supposed to be home hours ago.

Dustin called your name and swung his leg off the bench as an invitation. You stepped around Robin and Steve to sit next to him. The bloodstains on his clothes were black under the courtyard’s bluish light.

You asked, “What happened to your leg?”

“About that…”

Movement caught your attention. Nancy, Robin, and Steve shuffled out of the courtyard, giving you and Dustin privacy. You frowned at that and turned to Dustin, who took a deep breath.

“Everything was going as planned.” He gave you a small grin. “Eddie played ‘Master of Puppets’ to lure the bats.”

“How was it?”

Dustin’s grin morphed into a big smile.

“Awesome.”

You smiled with a nod. Eddie was so excited about the new album, said he’d been playing it nonstop. You opened your mouth to share that, but the miserable look on Dustin’s face stopped you. His eyes had gone dark with grief. You took his hand between your own.

You softly said, “It’s okay.”

He shook his head.

“We lured the bats just like we were supposed to. We sealed the trailer before, but we forgot about the ceiling vents.”

You nodded for him to continue.

“They broke through, but we fought them off. Then they found another one in Eddie’s room. He closed the door before they got farther.” He inhaled a stuttering breath. “Steve said we were only decoys. We were supposed to lure the bats and, if anything went south, to leave through the gate.”

“And you did that, right?”

“I did, but Eddie—” Dustin’s chin quivered as he gripped your hand.

“But Eddie—”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

He shook his head again.

“Eddie cut the sheet and ran out to keep the bats away.”

You dropped your head as your eyes welled with tears.

That fucking idiot. It should’ve been you in the Upside Down. Not Eddie — and certainly not Dustin. Vecna had stolen those bats from you. Perhaps you could’ve gained control of them to use against him. But, of course, you’d realized that too late.

“I…” Dustin swallowed, and you looked at him. “I jumped through and landed wrong.” He lifted his injured leg. “When I came out, the bats were swarming down the street.”

“Around Eddie.”

A single tear slipped down his round cheek as he bobbed his head.

“I tried to get to him, but I was too slow.”

You released his hand and put an arm around his back. He angled to you, resting his head on your shoulder. You squeezed him tighter in response.

“It’s—” Your voice cut out, but you needed him to hear this. “It’s not your fault.”

He scrubbed at his face. His shoulders stiffened as though about to disagree, but you wouldn’t hear it.

“No, Dustin, it’s not. It’s not your fault.” It was your turn to inhale a stuttering breath. “If you’d been out there with him, you’d be in the hospital, too.”

He sniffed.

“That’s not what Eddie would’ve wanted,” you said, a swirl of unidentifiable emotions making your chest strain.

His voice creaked as he said, “No, it wasn’t, but—”

“No.” You gave his shoulder a little shake. “None of this is your fault.”

Hurried footsteps raced in your direction. It was Mom. You looked up in time for her to shriek your full name. Dustin sat straight, like she’d caught him doing something naughty, and wiped under his eyes. Your father marched behind her, face thunderous.

Steve stood behind Robin and Nancy as if they were human shields.

“My God,” Mom said as she took you in. “What happened?”

“I was helping—”

“You shouldn’t have been out, young lady,” said your father.

“But I wanted to help.”

Your father harrumphed and eyed Dustin. “Who’s this?”

“This is Dustin Henderson. He’s a friend.”

“Isn’t he a little young to be your friend?”

“What? No?” you said while Dustin said, “I’m in high school.”

Mom waved a hand to dismiss that line of questioning and asked, “Where’s Heather? Weren’t you supposed to be studying with her?”

“I did. We were. She’s home. Now. I stayed behind.”

“To talk to Mr. Henderson here?” asked your father.

“Yes. He’s had a rough night.”

Mom’s face softened when Dustin turned the lost-and-harmless look up a notch.

“Of course,” she said before focusing on you. “And you, sweetie…”

She came to you and cradled your face. You winced at the pressure on your bruised jaw. She grimaced in apology.

“Oh, honey, let’s get you home. We’ll get some ice on that.” To Dustin, she asked, “Do you need a ride home?”

He glanced behind her before shaking his head.

“No, thank you.”

In the meantime, your father had noticed Nancy, Robin, and Steve. “Who’re you three?”

Nancy took control of the conversation, introducing herself and explaining in vague terms how you’d stepped in to protect children. She stroked his ego by saying he must’ve instilled that fortitude in you. Robin and Steve nodded in tandem. Your father appeared pacified, which was impressive. Nancy’s father must be a dick of the same caliber, or she was used to handling men who were.

“Well, uh…” He jingled the keys in his pocket. “We should be getting her home.”

“Of course, sir,” Nancy said.

You gave Dustin a hug and said you’d be at the hospital tomorrow. He nodded, hugging you back.

Your parents discussed logistics as you went to Nancy, Robin, and Steve to thank them for saving Eddie. If it hadn’t been for them, he would’ve died in the Upside Down. You’d never be able to repay them. When Eddie pulled through, you were sure he’d feel the same.

Nancy gave you a genuine, if awkward, grin when you took her hand in both of yours and thanked her.

She cast her pretty eyes down.

“I wish we’d been faster.”

“He’s in this dimension getting treatment, so…”

You shrugged as an ending to the sentence.

She nodded, then perked.

“I almost forgot.” She fished Eddie’s chain wallet from her vest. “We didn’t want him ID’ed.”

You bit your lip and agreed with a nod. He was being blamed for too much to be treated fairly. It was best for him to be a John Doe until he was conscious. You tucked the wallet in your purse.

Robin darted forward to hug you and said, “Sorry about your eye.”

“What’s an eye between friends, right?” you joked, wrapping your arms around her.

She laughed a little too loud and backed away.

That left Steve, who glanced at Robin with affection. He gave you a warm half-grin, yet his eyebrows slanted in apology. Like he had something to be sorry for. You shook your head and pulled him by the shoulder for a hug. He kept his touch light with hands on your upper back.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“I—uh… You’re welcome.”

You kissed his cheek before stepping back. His dark eyes were wide, lips parted.

To lighten the mood, you said, “This doesn’t mean you can hit on my mom again.”

He laughed, ducking his head and crossing his arms.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You gave them a last nod and turned to your parents. Mom waited by the first row of parked cars. Your father had already crossed to the next. With a frown, you went to Mom.

She held out her hand and said, “Keys, please.”

“I’d like to stay.”

“I don’t think so.” She flattened her palm, silently demanding your keys. “You need rest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but thought better of it. It was late. You were beyond tired, but unsure you could sleep. However, the hospital staff wouldn’t allow you to see Eddie unless you identified him. Even then, you weren’t family. Max was in surgery by now, too. There was nothing you could do.

You said, “I can drive.”

“Not with that eye-patch.”

With a sigh, you pulled your keys from your front pocket and handed them over. Mom asked where you’d parked your car. Without a word, you led the way. Neither of you mentioned the shoddy parking job.

When Mom started the car, you turned off the stereo. A conversation was fast approaching. She was quiet until she drove away from the hospital’s campus.

“So, want to tell me what really happened?” she asked.

You didn’t, of course. What really happened was too complicated, too scary, and too revealing.

She continued, “You’ve never mentioned any of those kids before.”

You stared out the passenger window. Half the town was dark. Most of the streetlights weren’t working. Every few blocks, the orange glow from a fissure broke the suburban night.

“I met them today,” you said, gripping your heavy purse.

“While being a big hero?”

“Something like that.”

“And the guy from the video store? He a big hero, too?”

You nodded.

“Yeah.”

Steve had helped pull Eddie from the Upside Down and tried to stabilize him. He took care of Dustin. He was a good person — and a hero.

“Wait,” you said. “That’s what you focus on? The guy from the video store?”

“Well, I mean, I couldn’t help but notice him.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

After a beat, she asked, “Is he single?”

“Mom!”

“Not for me!”

You had to turn your head even more to look at her.

“You want me to date Steve?”

She made a ‘why not?’ face with a shrug of a shoulder.

“He watched you walk away.”

“Oh my God, I’m sure they all did!”

“Not the way he did.”

You sighed and touched the eye patch, smoothing the tape holding it in place. Steve did not want you. You were so not his type. He wasn’t yours, either. And anyway, you were with Eddie, which Mom didn’t know. Now was not the time to disabuse her of your relationship status, either.

Fuck… Eddie was hurt. He’d been hurt by the demobats. Your demobats. No one could guarantee he would pull through. If he did— No. When he did, you’d have to tell him about the bats claiming you. That is, if you had the guts to. Would he ever forgive you?

The tires hit a bump in the road. A heavy thump and skid came from the driver’s footwell. Your eye went wide. Jason’s gun. You forgot you’d stashed it under the driver’s seat after parking.

“What the hell?” Mom asked, looking into the murk below the dash.

“I’ll get it.”

You dropped your purse by your feet, undid your seatbelt, and bent over the middle console, careful not to disturb the shifter. Mom slowed the car while tucking her knees to the side. Unfortunately, the huge gun skittered towards the door as the road followed the snaking Eno River. Light caught on its shiny nickel surface.

“Is that a gun?!”

For a second, you considered lying.

“Yeah?”

You snatched the gun before it skittered again and settled in your seat.

“What the hell are you doing with it?” Mom glanced at your hands. “That’s not your father’s. Whose gun is that?”

“You gotta promise not to freak out,” you said, fastening your seatbelt and unlatching the gun’s cylinder.

An ambulance siren wailed from somewhere close.

“Just tell me the truth, and we’ll figure out what to do.”

You couldn’t tell her the whole truth, but you could give her an edited version.

“I was out before the earth opened up—”

“We’ll talk about you staying out after curfew later, but go on.”

There were four bullets left in the cylinder. You tapped them into your palm as the interior lit red and white from the ambulance.

Over the siren, you said, “I was with friends, but we weren’t doing anything bad, okay?”

Mom pulled the car over. The ambulance screamed by. She held out her hand.

“Gun. Now,” she said. The lights flashed over her hardened face. “Bullets in the ashtray.”

You hated that tone in her voice. It made you feel like a stranger. You didn’t meet her gaze as you placed the gun in her hand. The bullets stuck to your sweaty palm as you poured them into the ashtray.

She took a deep breath, gun laying in her lap, and turned onto the road.

“I’m not mad at you.” She sighed. “Well, yes, I am, but… You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s just that I don’t want you in an ambulance. I…” She looked at you, forehead creased with worry. “I don’t want you out there—” She leaned the heel of her hand on the steering wheel as she gestured. “Here you are with a stranger’s gun and beat up.” She shook her head. “Who did that to you?”

“That’s Jason Carver’s gun.”

“How did he get something like this?!”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Jason threatened me with it. He thought I was protecting Eddie Munson—”

“The one people think’s a Satanist?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because of the way I dress? Because I’m new? And weird? I don’t know, pick one.”

“You’re different, but that’s okay. I like that you’re different.”

Somehow, that made you want to cry. You knew Mom loved you, but there were times you doubted she liked you.

“Thanks.”

She turned the car into Loch Nora proper. It wouldn’t be long before you were home. There, you could shower and eat and research healing spells. In the morning, you could make another Veil of Undeath.

Mom said, “You know, Jason threatening you with this gun doesn’t actually explain how it was in your car.”

“We fought, and he dropped it.”

“And you put it in your car?”

“I mean, yeah? I didn’t want to bring it into the hospital.”

“Alright.” She sighed. “I won’t tell your father about this—” She nudged the gun. “—but he will hear about Jason Carver.”

You leaned your head on the headrest with a muted sigh. You couldn’t wait for that conversation.

Some great commotion jolted you awake. It wasn’t noise or sudden light, for your bedroom lights remained bright. Your spell books surrounded you on the bed. The house was quiet. A tightness constricted your body. It bit into your skin like thorny ropes of glass. It tied you to darkness and tumultuous silence. Then whispers teased your ears. Hands stole into empty pockets. Scalpels sliced away ruined flesh.

No longer could you tell where others began and you ended.

You attempted to move, to crawl away, to hide. There was no hiding from this. You had to accept it. You were connected, each piercing thorn linked to another and another. Each crystalline connection fanned to others to make a gossamer, glittering net.

You tapped on the net. The wave went out and resonated back, like a sea of gems. You spread across the net, let it cradle you. Connections broke and were remade every second. Connections fanned from you.

You followed each until you fell into an abrupt terminus. There should’ve been something there, yet it was vacant. You grasped for anything to stop the plummet. The gloom bound you. The net and its shining connections disappeared.

A sonorous voice rumbled your name, familiar and dreadful.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

27 notes · View notes

mywifeleftme · 1 month

Text

355: Motörhead // No Remorse

No Remorse Motörhead 1984, Bronze

I heard British comics writer Warren Ellis tell a story about hearing a horrible banging in the hallway outside his flat late one night in the mid-1980s. When he poked his head outside to give the noisenik hell he discovered Lemmy wandering around smacking the walls with a wooden cooking spoon. After he managed to get the metal legend’s attention, Lemmy waved the implement at him and snarled, “You ever hear of a coke spoon? This is my coke spoon!”

youtube

This past Friday, I talked to a 50-something punk named Joey P who has 26 Motörhead records on vinyl (including the coveted leatherbound version of No Remorse). If you ever want to have a long conversation with Joey P, I recommend starting with a riff on if Ronnie James Dio was a mob-connected / Rat Pack wiseguy, and then letting him go into antiquarian detail on which Motörhead records are kind of underrated (Another Perfect Day), underrated (Bastards), and really underrated (1916). Love that guy, and I think he’s mostly right. 26 is probably too many Motörhead records even for me, but they are one of those long-running, very sonically consistent bands who turn their deepest fans into sommeliers. I can hold forth about the subtle differences in tasting notes between an Ace of Spades and an Iron Fist (let alone a departure like Orgasmatron!) while an outsider looks doubtfully into their two indistinguishable cups of Jack and Coke. A band like this gives men of a certain age a way to sniff each other over when they meet in a clearing, a low-impact ritual of butting heads.

For years I remembered a story I thought one of my friends had told me about running into Lemmy at the Dominion Tavern in Ottawa towards the end of his life. He was miserably drinking white wine on his doctor’s orders, not looking for conversation. The image always struck me as both funny (I cannot imagine the house wine at the Dom having a nice finish), and sad (the day Lemmy Goddamn Kilmister lets anyone tell him he can’t have whiskey!). I think I’ve repeated it once or twice over the years as an example of how age mellows us all, but when I asked the pal I thought had told me, she denied it (though she did add that her ex told her Lemmy’d gone to see “the rippers in Aylmer once”). So, I dunno, maybe he escaped the fate of the Dom Chardonnay.

Speaking of fate, Lemmy was a damned sharp fellow beneath all the drugging and boozing (who else could’ve written the lyric “Fourth day, five-day marathon / We’re moving like a parallelogram”), and he rightly figured his label had pitched doing a hits compilation in 1984 because they thought the band was washed up. (The limp sales and savage critical reaction to Another Perfect Day having had something to do with that.) Kilmister insisted on inserting a side’s worth of new songs onto the double LP comp to emphasize that Motörhead remained very much a going concern. Of the four, only the brilliantly dumb “Killed By Death” became a classic in its own right, but the new tracks showed the band were still capable of churning out the sound that had defined them with undiminished ferocity. They never lost it.

youtube

I do know a woman who hooked up with Lemmy towards the end of his life (if anything in rock and roll can be believed, she had about 1,000 peers. It was like a more pleasant [?] Germs burn). They went home from the bar in Montreal and drank whiskey, and then she split in the morning without leaving her number. She thought the story was funny and I thought not leaving a number was a pretty good flex, but at the end she still gave a bit of a wistful, “I know he probably wouldn’t have called me anyway…”

Lemmy picked the songs for No Remorse himself, and even provides short annotations in the liners, so if you’re going to quibble with the selections, you’ll have to take it up with the mole man. (As he says of “Like a Nightmare,” a left-field inclusion, “This was one of my favourite B-sides. Everyone didn’t like it, but seeing as I’m the only one of the old band left, here it is!!”) There are a load of Motörhead compilations out there (I’m partial to 2000’s lavish, oddly-sequenced double-CD The Best of, since it’s the one I had as a kid), and as Joey P will tell you, they did lots of good stuff after 1984. But if 1) you only need one Motörhead record on wax, 2) you’re mostly into the original lineup, and 3) you want something reasonably comprehensive, No Remorse is a no-brainer. It has a few relative duds (“Louie, Louie”) and lacks some absolute classics (“Dead Men Tell No Tales”; “Tear Ya Down”; “City Kids”; “Love Me Like a Reptile”; “White Line Fever” etc. etc.) but why complain given the teeth-rattling abundance there is? As Lemmy says, “Here is Motörhead as you’ve come to expect them. Write your opinion on a Beatle wig and send it to someone who gives a damn. Even if you get us banned, we ain’t gonna stop!”

Motörhead were obviously a legendary live act, and they were my first metal show (on a bill at Detroit’s Pine Knob with Dio and Iron Maiden). They played a lot of arenas, but they made the most sense in small theatres. Bigger venues tend to dwarf them, like a small motorcycle gang trying to take over a castle. In a theatre, or better yet a bar, they own the place like The Wild Ones. I don’t remember much specific from their Pine Knob set, except that before closing with “Ace of Spades,” a song Lem was famously bored of playing every night, he told us all, “You’ll know this one, sing along if you want, I won’t be able to hear you anyway,” and then abruptly launched into that hellbent bass riff. Then he disappeared (probably there was some walking beforehand, couldn’t tell you for sure).

Lemmy’s funeral was livestreamed back in 2015, and it’s genuinely one of the sweetest, silliest things I have ever watched. The altar features flower arrangements in the shape of the ace of spades; an iron cross in place of a crucifix; two Marshall stacks; a pair of Triple H’s wrestling boots; a 3D-printed urn in the shape of his cavalry hat; and a mirror with a big line of speed on it. Everybody cries, many of them the sort of people the PMRC would’ve expected to burst into flames if they were to enter a church. Everybody talks about how genuinely nice he was. His girlfriend Cheryl, a job that earns you instant and eternal That Poor Woman status from all who observe, gives a super brief statement: “Lemmy loved me, but his greatest love was his fans and his music. I remember saying, ‘Baby, stay home, don’t go, skip this tour. And he said, ‘Baby, I can’t. I love my fans.’” (Imagine that being an interaction between two genuine living people—yet I believe it.) Apparently, he was an absolute pinball fiend. His bootmaker gives a speech. Somebody reads some limericks Lem wrote. What a life. What a story.

youtube

“Can’t get enough / And you know it’s some righteous stuff / Goes up like prices at Christmas! / Motörhead / Remember me now / Motörhead, alright"

355/365

#motörhead #lemmy kilmister #lemmy #metal #punk #rock n roll #ace of spades #overkill #'70s music #'80s music #no remorse #music review #vinyl record #anecdote #tour stories

4 notes · View notes