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thelovelylolly · 7 months

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hey hey 🫶🫶

i saw ur requests were open so i thought eh why not 😚😚 can i plss get an eddie x like a hippie reader?? like crystals, stevie nicks, tarot cards the works yk??

tyyy 🩷🩷

Crystal Chick

Summary: Eddie, the metalhead and freak, has a crush on you, the resident hippie of Hawkins High. Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns are used), reader is described as shorter than eddie, let me know if i missed any! Notes: ive recently gotten into crystals and tarot, so i love this request! im not like a full on hippie, but im definitely leaning towards it lol

"Wait, wait, wait, you like the crystal chick?"

Eddie grumbled and looked away to hide his blush. His friends, the Hellfire Club, just put two and two together and he knew they were gonna tease him. He noticed you on the first day of school, driving by him with Stevie Nicks blaring from your car. Since then, you've always caught his eye whether you knew it or not.

"She's not just a crystal chick, Mike," Eddie answered, glaring at Mike and the rest of the table. "She's a hippie, I think."

"That means she's a crystal chick."

"Does it matter? Eddie Munson likes a hippie!" Dustin added.

Eddie rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

He remembered when you two first talked. You were in the theater room, where Hellfire is usually hosted, and you were doing a tarot reading. Eddie walked in and you looked up at him, a little upset that he messed with your reading.

"Can I help you?" You had asked him, already collecting the crystals and cards you had laid out.

"Oh, uh, my club meets here..." Eddie answered, trailing off as you stood up.

Your outfit was eclectic, but flowy. You had stacks of necklaces on, some with moons and suns, other with crystals. Your rings were the same, you had on bangles and your earrings dangled low. You put your things in your patched up bag and stood in front of him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"You a metalhead or something?" You asked, looking up at him with your hands on your hips.

"Are you a hippie or something?" He countered, a smile pulling at his lips.

You smirked before walking past him and calling back, "see ya around."

With that, you were gone and Eddie had a crush on you.

"Hey, look! Here she comes!" Dustin said a bit too loudly, breaking Eddie from his flashback.

You walked past the Hellfire table with your patched up bag slung over arm and your lunch bag in your hand. You had on beat-up bellbottom jeans with a flowy top that tied in the front, and you had on your usual eclectic accessories. You glanced at Eddie as you passed by then continued to your usual spot.

The other guys went crazy when they saw you look at Eddie, who was still watching you as you reached your spot in the corner of the cafeteria and sat down.

"You should go talk to her!" Dustin eagerly suggested, the others agreeing with him.

Eddie shook his head, picking at his food as a distraction. "No, I...I don't think she would like me. I'm not her type."

"How do you know that?" Gareth asked.

"Have you seen her? She's beautiful and her style is so cool, plus she's pretty smart to remember all those crystals and cards and stuff. I'm just, y'know, me."

"Boo! Enough self-doubt, just go try! You don't know what's gonna happen," Dustin replied.

Eddie thought about it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Pros: you'd actually like him back or at least want to be friends with him. Cons: he embarrasses himself and further cements his place as a freak. But he didn't really care. He sighed and got up, the rest of the guys cheering as they watched him walk over to you.

You were picking at your food and reading a book with crystals on the torn up cover. You heard Eddie's footsteps as he got closer and looked up. You closed your book and leaned forward when he sat across from you.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," you replied, a small smile on his face. Since your first interaction with him, you found out that Eddie Munson was the school freak and the leader of the D&D club. You also found out that he was in fact a metal head and was in a band. You wanted to talk to him more, but you never found a good time.

"I, uh, I saw you walk over here and thought I'd join you," Eddie started, then quickly added, "but I can go if you want to be left alone. I don't want to intrude or anything."

You giggled at his awkwardness. "You can stay. I don't mind, Eddie."

"Okay, cool..."

You two were quiet for a few minutes, the rest of the chatter from the cafeteria keeping it from being too awkward. You noticed how he fidgeted with his rings, a habit you have yourself. You smiled and covered his hands with yours, stopping his fidgeting and causing him to look at you with blush on his cheeks.

"You have a question for me, don't you?" You asked.

"H-how'd you know?" He replied, not pulling his hands away from you.

"I had a feeling," you answered, "and maybe my cards told me."

Eddie laughed. "Well, uh, I was just wondering...would you wanna hang out with me sometime?"

"I would love to," you said, "I was gonna ask you the same thing but I never found the right time."

"Great, um, would you wanna meet after school? I know this spot where we can hang out and it's just by the football field. Maybe you could give me a tarot reading?"

You giggled. "Sounds like a plan."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fan fic #strangers things fanfiction

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sgiandubh · 7 months

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Cut the (Ghenea) crap

I have been anticipating since at least last Friday the very recent rumor overdrive about S and Mrs. Mădălina Ghenea, Romanian Horizontal Extraordinaire and I howled like a pack of hyenas in the dull silence of my flat.

Of all the rumors featuring S and divers representatives of the International Fitness Harem, this one stroke me as the most ridiculous ever. Downright scraping the bottom of the barrel, here, to be honest.

Now, as all of you know, I happen to be Romanian and if anything, you should at least grant me the benefit of a flawless knowledge of the terrain, so to speak. And as far as erotically ambitious Romanian chicks go, let's just say I am a sweet summer child, compared to this one.

Mădălina hails from Slatina, a small town in Oltenia, one of the most fascinating parts of the Romanian Southwest (I have a good quarter pint of Oltenian blood myself, so I think I know what the hell I am talking about: quick-witted, ambitious people, with a devastating, sarcastic sense of humor). She comes from virtually nothing: a working-class family of former farmers drawn to the nearest town by the quick and demented industrialization of the country during the Sixties, which is to say, the Lumpenproletariat our German friends can immediately relate to. But when you spend your childhood in the dull and poor anonymity of a non-descript block of flats (matchbox upon matchbox upon matchbox - think of it as a dignified favela of sorts), the only thing you want to do is to get the damn out of there, at all costs. Which, I have to say, she brilliantly and ruthlessly managed to, almost in record time. Granted, she is beautiful (to me, she is very cliché, but for any foreign male she is a Wanton Goddess of Sex, I suppose) and she does have the street smarts to safely get her through any urban jungle of this planet, too.

You can peruse her war credentials here, for a quick overview of the character, if you really, really, really need to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C4%83d%C4%83lina_Diana_Ghenea.

I will just add (and you will have to trust me on this one), a couple of things:

Cynically speaking, she could be a decently plausible beard for S. After all, she did beard for di Caprio (an info I just corroborated over the phone with a friend who is a cinema & TV journalist, back home). Problem is, a woman like this is way over budget. I am afraid The Boy doesn't qualify, bless his heart: too meh for her eclectic, but high-end tastes (local cardboard millionaires, Bulgarian tennis players of the light mafioso type, Philipp Plein, Italian TV beaux and yup, Gerard Butler - but it did not end amicably, enough said). You have to understand that woman saw it all and she won't settle for a pap walk in the pishing drizzle of GLA, or even NY. This one knows perfectly well diamonds are a girl's best friend. And if you doubt me, maybe you won't doubt her, when she declared three days ago for the Daily Fail something along these lines:

[source, LOL: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-12681539/EDEN-CONFIDENTIAL-Sexiest-woman-world-Madalina-Ghenea-yearns-real-man-stealing-hearts-Leonardo-DiCaprio-Gerard-Butler-Michael-Fassbender.html]

Read my lips: not going to happen. Not in a million years, not even for the sake of the fucking Narrative. Not even on a desert island. Never. Nuh-oh. No way.

At any rate, if God knows what sick plot twist happens, you'll learn it here first, probably: the Romanian gossip press would put to shame poor Deux Moi, with its needlessly chatty, exuberant, salaciously detailed style.

So I will say again here what I did say in a comment to an Anon who brought it up first @bat-cat-reader's :

TERMINAȚI CU TÂMPENIILE. Which is simply translated as CUT THE CRAP.

Of course.

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daigina-3 · 2 years

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(Middle school steddie- Steve mistakes Eddie as the new girl at school)

Steve sees her across the hall.

Or, he sees her hair first, through a thinning crowd of other middle schoolers, running to their lockers or their friends lockers to chat and escape class for a few minutes.

Her hair’s just barely touching her shoulders, curly and dark brown. Just a little fluffy and Steve knows he’s never seen this head of hair before- a new person in a town like Hawkins where no one is new- he keeps staring.

She’s wearing a flannel that’s way too big for her, jeans and a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. There’s lots of little buttons on it, ones Steve can’t make out but he thinks it makes her bag look cool- she has personality. Eclectic (thanks Mr. Donovan for the new vocab word).

She slams her locker closed and turns- Steve just barely catches her face, pretty with her nose scrunched up like she’s mad- before she does a 180 and disappears down the hall.

Steve’s liked lots of girls, publicly. Loudly. He puffs his chest up in front of his friends and says “I dropped my pencil on purpose in Science class and Jennifer gave it back to me,” he smiles, smug as his guy friends look on. “Works every time. She’s into me.”

He was totally bullshitting, of course. He’d dropped his pencil on accident. But Tommy teased him about crushing on Jennifer- made some gross comment about her changing during PE- and Steve hated the little shriveling feeling he got in his stomach when Tommy made jokes about that stuff. Embarrassment. Shame- liking people was shameful- or, no, being lame, being unpopular, being undatable and shy around girls was shameful.

(Years later, Steve would scoff at his seventh grade self. The least of his problems.)

So Steve balled up that shriveling little feeling in his gut and clenched it right, took control. Actually, hadn’t Tommy heard? Steve was the master of picking up chicks. He’d played Jennifer like a violin, if violins were easy to play, and now she was hooked.

It kept going- first Jennifer, then Stacy, then Michelle. The second Steve caught even a whiff of his friends about to say something he took control. And yeah, turns out this shit was really like eighty percent confidence because the guys bought it and the girls did too- every one of them blushed and turned to look at their friends when Steve passed them by in the hallways. He was a chick magnet- the most badass chick magnet seventh grader you’d ever met, the way he told it.

When people were watching, anyway. When they weren’t, well. He guesses he’d liked Jennifer and the rest of them enough but he really couldn’t have cared less. They were fine. They were cool. But even if they were cool, the pressure of girls was way more trouble than it was worth.

But Steve sees her- and suddenly, he has his first private crush. A little feeling nudges it’s way into his chest. A little pinch in his heart when he sees her in the cafeteria or at her locker. And this is just for him.

For the first time, without anyone around, Steve likes a girl.

He doesn’t have any classes with her- wouldn’t dare ask any of his friends about her. He wants to keep this little feeling, this fragile thing in his chest, just for him. He won’t let anyone else ruin it.

He hears her laugh at something a teachers says- and it’s so cute. He noticies when she tucks her curly hair behind one ear- and she’s so pretty. He sees her eat alone at lunch and and wants to sit with her, pauses in the middle of the cafeteria- maybe-

“Hey, Steve,” Carol calls in the other direction. Tommy H and the others- Brian, Isaac, the whole gang are waiting.

Steve joins them, dragging his sneakers so they squeak on the linoleum in quiet dejection, mostly tunes out when his friends talk about some weirdo boy in Carol’s class who draws freaky pictures in his textbook and maybe is starting a cult.

He sees her name, kind of. Written sloppy on the paper she’s got crushed in her hands- a B on some math homework- he reads ELLIE MUNSON.

Ellie Munson. It’s cute. Ellie. Ellie.

He tucks the name away next to the little feeling in his chest. Ellie.

A week later, he has a note written up. A little torn out piece of notebook paper, folded up into eighths in the breast pocket of his jacket. Right next to the tucked away little feeling in his heart and the tucked away Ellie. Ellie and the little feeling and the note squeeze in his chest, tight. He gets on the bus- it won’t take him home, but it’s the bus he knows Ellie will be riding because he told his mom he had to stay after school the day before so he could scope out the bus pick up- and she’s not there.

He stands at the front, in between two of the cheap bus seats, looking for her curly brown hair. He keeps going over every row, every mop of hair in every seat until he accepts that she’s not there and kids are pushing at him from behind- he drags his feet to the back of the bus and plops down in a free seat.

He takes out the little folded up paper and fiddles with it in his fingers. He pouts, looks out the window, feels the nerves drain out of him slow and sad.

Another day.

Thump.

Someone plops down next to him and Steve’s little pinch in his chest becomes a choke hold because holy shit it’s her. It’s her.

She’s got her Walkman in her ears, old and taped together with some stickers on it. She’s not paying Steve any mind, almost trained in the way she’s not looking at him; lost in the chaotic music turned up so high he can hear it loud and clear next to her, though he doesn’t know what it is.

Up close, she has the faintest hint of freckles on her cheeks. Steve’s never thought a nose could be cute before but hers is and her eyes are so big and round- he takes her in in sneaking glances, his cheeks warm.

They pass by three stops before Steve kicks himself. He doesn’t know when she gets off but he can’t miss it now. He can’t.

He turns his body- frozen stiff- towards her, their knees just an inch apart, and thanks god for the private bubble made by an entire bus of kids talking over each other so loud that no one would hear them even if they tried.

He clutches the note in his hand.

“Uh- Hi- Ellie?”

She doesn’t hear him at first, still ignoring him and staring at nothing like she’s a trained pro. Steve repeats himself but ends up tapping her on the shoulder and she jumps like she only just noticed him.

“…yeah?” She mumbles, quiet.

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t plan this far ahead- sit next to the pretty girl, give her the note, hope she says yes. But what does he say?

“I uh.” Nothing apparently. With his heart in his throat and his little tucked away feeling blown up to the size of a hot air balloon in his chest, Steve takes the little note folded up in eighths and thrusts it towards Ellie, his arms still stiff.

She stares at him for four agonizing seconds before taking it.

And the note is about as elegant as the China-glass-fragile ego of a seventh grade boy will allow- which is to say, Steve had written, using his best pen in very careful handwriting:

Ellie,

Hi. I’m Steve. You’re a really cool girl. I like you. Will you go out with me?

[_] YES or [_]NO

Steve

Steve watches her, his lips pressed together in a thin line, the hot hair balloon in his chest ready to explode.

“You don’t have to answer now,” he manages to get out- is praying she’ll smile and slip it in her pocket. Maybe sit a little closer to him on the bus seat and share her headphones.

Her eyebrows knit together.

Her lips purse in a sour frown.

She looks at Steve like he’s something nasty stuck to her shoe.

Steve has never felt more scared.

“Is this a joke? You’re not fucking funny,” Ellie spits, her voice is poison, it’s anger, she hates Steve and he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his mind around it and the feeling in his chest that got so big, that choke hold that was so tight- it’s going for the kill.

“No- no, I-“

“I told your dumb friends- I’m not a girl,” she snarls and balls the paper up in her hand.

“Wait- huh? No-“

And Steve sees it. Holy shit, holy shit- how could he be so dumb? The way his shoulders were just a little bit wider, the way his eyebrows were just a little bit unruly, not like the other girls in school- his voice, Steve had thought it was just a little scratchy for a girl but no. No.

Steve looks Ellie over and he’s not Ellie at all. On his messenger bag at between them, among the little buttons and pins a hand-sewn on patch says EDDIE in big bold letters.

Eddie Munson was not a girl.

Steve screams- not because Eddie but because he has so many things he wants to say all at once-I’m sorry I didn’t know and I didn’t know and it’s fine I don’t care I’m sorry and it wasn’t a joke I wouldn’t joke about that and I didn’t mean it- and I’m sorry-

And eventually he does. His face beat-red, he rushes to explain himself and then calms down and actually explains himself- and apologize- and apologize again.

Eddie- Eddie, not Ellie- side eyes him, weary. He looks from the note balled up in his hand to Steve and back again. “I’m.. not gay,” he mutters.

“No! No, me neither,” Steve rushes to agree. And he’s not. Eddie just.. really looked like a pretty girl. So obviously now that he’s not a pretty girl, Steve doesn’t like him. Duh.

“It’s the hair,” Eddie says. “People always call me ‘little girl’ when they see me from behind.” Steve agrees, laughs stiffly.

“So- we don’t have to, like, tell anyone about this.. it was a.. misunderstanding. I’m sorry,” Steve says for the hundredth time.

Eddie shakes his head, tells Steve it’s okay- he’s sorry, too, for snapping- but there’s some assholes around school getting on his case, so. He assumed Steve was, too.

“Tommy,” Steve supplies and Eddie nods. Adds ‘and Carol’ and Steve grimaces. They both know Steve knows Tommy and Carol. Their friend group is no secret. “Yeah, they can be.. I get it.”

And he does get it. He gets that whatever Carol and Tommy have been saying to Eddie or about Eddie that it fucking sucks and if they knew.. Steve doesn’t want to think about it.

(For him or for Eddie.)

So he and Eddie promise- this stays between them. Eddie seems to understand that Steve- well, he doesn’t have to say it and Eddie just gets it, gets what he wants to say. And Steve kind of thinks he gets Eddie, too.

And they give each other these smiles- careful, small smiles.

The bus lurches to a stop, just outside of Forest Hills trailer park and Eddie stands up slow, letting a few kids behind him go first. “This is me,” he says. “See you around.. Steve.”

“Uhh, yeah. Bye.. Eddie.”

Eddie shuffles down the middle of the buss and hops off the last step onto the pavement. He pretends to fiddle with his messenger bag, but Steve sees him sneak a glance up at the bus, right at the window where Steve is sitting. He knows that Eddie’s looking right at him with the love note still clutched in his hand as the bus pulls away.

He knows because he was looking, too.

#steddie fic #steddie #st fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #baby steddie is best steddie and there is absolutely more of this on the server #I just don’t think ya’ll WANT it LMAO #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #mine #fic

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therealfailwhale · 1 month

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A fun little tagging game! Saw @venagrey’s post, and have decided to join in

do you make your bed?

Nope! Only when my brain demands neatness in times of anxiety.

what's your favourite number?

Don’t really have one?

what's your day job?

Librarian!! Specifically at a public library, in a genealogy department, also doing archive work

if you could go back to school would you?

With a boatload of money and no need to work, probably. I’d love to do an english masters, more archive classes, history, some languages…

can you paralell park?

Reasonably well, yeah

a job that would surprise people?

I was a kid’s party host at an incredible pizza. It was shit.

do you think aliens are real?

Maybe.

can you drive a manual car?

Nope.

what's your guilty pleasure?

My library is right next to a chick fil a, and every so often I am weak for their chicken sandwich and ranch. I hate it. So much guilt. I usually donate to an LGBTQ charity if I go there (maybe like 2x a year).

tattoos?

3, and I’ll be getting more after my wedding!

favorite color?

Big fan of dark greens

favorite type of music?

Mmm I have kind of eclectic taste? I like classical piano, symphony. I don’t just like any music types broadly. I like Olivia Rodrigo but not other similar artists, I like some heavy bands. More of an artist fan than a genre fan.

do you like puzzles?

I like doing puzzles with Bee! And then I like nerding out over book themed puzzles.

any phobias?

Deeply afraid of spiders. Hate seeing pictures. Hate hearing them talked about. Have cried at the sight of them. (When Bee and I were first dating, she was hanging out at my place and then like five minutes after she left, I was preparing to shower but was confronted with a shower spider (the worst kind). Started crying. Called her. She came back over and killed it for me. Wife Material.)

do you talk to yourself?

Yes lol, and frequently in accents.

coffee or tea?

Iced coffee (preferably caramel flavored!), hot tea (usually black, but I quite like earl grey with honey)

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

Ugh I think I wanted to be a singer. I remember writing songs, dear god.

I’m gonna tag @muirmarie but no pressure!

#tag game #personal

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keirametzbrassknuckles · 7 months

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I ride horses, I fence, I read, I speak 4 languages, I have a perfect 10-0-10 figure and blue eyes, I will do something eclectic like collect a bunch of taxidermy as I get older... and yet somehow I'm just some chick not a wonderful millionheiress (nor married to one)

#not fair #born to live in a castle and be Very full of herself #forced to live in a 1 bedroom in providence and be full of herself #was trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me and realising that nothing actually lol #im just poor

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frasier-crane-style · 8 months

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Teevee

The sizably titled Special Ops: Lioness is a well-done military thriller, suspended somewhere between military propaganda and feminine empowerment. Nicole Kidman's Cait is a high-ranking director of such-and-such at the CIA, Saldana's Jo is a CIA case officer working under her, and Laysla de Oliveira's Cruz is the agent that she's running on an assassination mission that pivots on befriending (or perhaps... more than befriending...?) the target's daughter. (Don't worry about Morgan Freeman, he only shows up for two scenes.) Just in case that sounds too girly for Taylor Sheridan, the closest thing Hollywood has to a right-winger, half the cast is beardy military dudes (and one butch military lesbian. Cuz chicks).

It tells a compelling enough story, even if some of the attempts to reach out to the fairer sex come out cack-handed. Points for equality; Jo's husband is the exact sort of "who cares/he's no slob!" medical person as Jack Ryan's wife always is, even if their subplot feels weirdly Lifetimeish. (To quote Parks & Rec: "I watch a lot of Lifetime movies. There was this one, How Far is Too Far Enough: The Terry Palaver Lonagan Story. This woman had agoraphobia and her therapist was obsessed with her. And he hid in her house, and then he attacked her and tried to eat her toes. Also, her daughter was having sex way too young." Swap in some Al Qaeda and that is essentially Lioness)

Kiefer's new shot at 24ishness. He plays John Weir (not Jack, you got that, not Jack), one of those corporate espionage type persons. You know the ones. Always pulling off crazy con jobs with their eclectic band of attractive misfits, having a friendly rivalry with the FBI agent out to put them away, traumatic backstory about his father dying (or... did he?). In short order, he's framed for murder (or... is he?) and all his friends are killed (or... are they?) and there's a plot to assassinate whatshisface. It's the kind of show where not only do people fake their death, but they turn out to have died after faking their death so they're really-REALLY dead (or... okay, enough).

Amusingly, about half the "everyone's in on it!" conspiracy details turn out to be contrived coincidences, like the hotel where John and his ladyfriend shack up just happening to have a perverted landlord who has planted a camera in their room (!). But, once you make peace with the fact that the show isn't even trying to play fair, it manages the high-wire act well and wraps everything up by the final bell.

I suppose I should give points for Kiefer being close with a male friend from childhood and they never make the two of them bi. That's got to take discipline in this day and age.

Although it does this thing that weirds me out in modern media where TPTB seem to feel it's not bad enough that the villains are conspiring to create a dictatorship, they must specify it's a right-wing dictatorship.

This bothered me in Stargirl, where the villains' plan turned out to be brainwashing Americans to believe in a number of liberal talking points (green energy, gay marriage, etc.) and the heroes wondered whether they should even bother to stop the mass mind-rape, so the writers added a line about how the brainwashing will kill a bunch of people too so the JSA was justified in fighting.

Of course, SOP for the Rabbit Hole bad guys is carrying out a number of murders and tortures and hostage situations to further their goals, but that's not bad enough, so they throw in one line about how the head villain is going to make women stay at home and gays go back in the closet.

(To paraphrase Community, "I can excuse murder and tyranny, but homophobia is where I draw the line!" "You can excuse murder and tyranny?")

#rabbit hole #special ops: lioness

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survivormom316 · 1 month

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Ok, a friend told me I needed to be on Tumblr because it’s where all the cool kids are. I’m not sure if I qualify, but here I am! For this first post, I guess I’ll just put down a bunch of random stuff about myself. If you see something you like, great! We might be part of the same tribe of weirdos. If not, that’s ok. I’ll try not to take it personally.

1. I’m a 50 year old straight, married, white, cis female. My pronouns are she/her. I’ve been married for to my high school sweetheart since 1996, and we are the parents of two amazing humans and more furry and feathered kids than any sane person should have.

2. I’m an ally, very aware of my privilege, and though I know I don’t always get it right, I am always trying to learn and do better when it comes to standing up for the rights of other humans. I believe that we need to take care of each other because life is hard and we don’t all get dealt the same cards in life. Learn better, do better.

3. Religion? Nah. Faith? Absolutely. These days I describe myself as a Christ follower, currently deconstructing Christianity as a religious institution. I love Jesus and want to be just like him. I’m reluctant to call myself a Christian because many of them are pretty much closed minded, bigoted, horribly judgmental people and I don’t want to be lumped in with them. My belief system pretty much boils down to “Love God, love people.” And, for the record, I also think that God reveals themself in many different ways. Also, science is real, folks. And magic is just science that we haven’t figured out yet.

3. Politically I am definitely liberal. We should take care of each other, do what each of us can to make the world better, and hold our so-called leaders accountable for doing what we put them in power to do. Crazy talk, I know.

4. Fun stuff: I’m into (in no particular order):

Star Trek (old and new, I love it all!)

Music (my tastes are eclectic, and my playlists reflect that). I also LOVE Broadway musicals, and I sing. A lot. Like, really a lot.

Science fiction, fantasy, and various sub-genre stuff. I also enjoy historical fiction, true crime, and history. Some of my favorite authors are Laurell K Hamilton, Isaac Asimov, Diane Duane, Phillipa Gregory, Janet Kagan, Anne McCaffrey, Kim Harrison, John Scalzi, Douglas Adams, Terry Prachett…I’m probably leaving a lot out.

Medical TV shows: The Resident is my current favorite, and I just finished rewatching House.

I have 5 cats.

I have 3 dogs; 2 of them are rough collies, and I’m obsessed with them.

I have an Amazon parrot named Widget. She’ll be 30 years old this summer, and I have been her mama since she was a 3 week old chick.

I am a veterinary assistant, and my work is also my passion. I have also been a cat sitter, worked in retail, taken care of elderly people, been a resort housekeeper, and worked in tech support.

I am currently learning to crochet.

I like card games, and I play a lot of stupid time wasting iPad games.

That’s all for now, ABC’s of me.

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eclecticchick · 19 days

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Today's Video

Hey everyone! Today’s video is up and ready for you.

youtube

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booksteacupandreviews · 2 years

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Love, Lists, and Fancy Ships by Sarah Grunder Ruiz

Many thanks to @PRHGlobal for eARC #LoveListsandFancyShips by #SarahGrunderRuiz is refreshing, heartwarming and emotive #chicklit @BerkleyRomance #20booksofSummer22 Full #bookreview ⬇️

Love, Lists, and Fancy Ships is entertaining, refreshing, heartwarming and emotive chick-lit about journey to healing and finding happiness, hope, and love again. Love, Lists, and Fancy Ships by Sarah Grunder Ruiz Publication Date : November 23, 2021 Publisher : Berkley Books Read Date : August 17, 2022 ⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4 out of 5. Tea for this book : Indian Masala Chai + Menthol…

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machtaholic · 2 months

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shuffle your ‘on repeat’/favourites playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people

tagged by @kermit-the-hag <3

Miss Otis Regrets - Bette Midler

Space in My Heart - Enrique Iglesias, Miranda Lambert

Last Kiss - Pearl Jam

Beg for You (feat. Rina Sawayama) - Charlii XCX

Girl is a Gun - halsey

Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) - My Chemical Romance

Nocturnal - Eve6

Daddy Lessons - Beyonce, The Chicks

Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters - Elton John

Talk about eclectic music tastes *wink*

Also ... tagging whoever wants to do it!

#music

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sweetdreamsjeff · 5 months

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Jeff Buckley; The big album

Author: Stevie Chick

Date: May 6, 2000

From: The Times (London, England)

Publisher: NI Syndication Limited

JEFF BUCKLEY (9/10)

Mystery White Boy

(Columbia) Pounds 13.99*

FANTASY HAS long been a core ingredient of rock myth-making, and when a mythically talented rock artist dies, just as his dazzling promise begins to unfold, the potential for wild speculation is doubled. Without the possibility of future development or new material, the fans' impulse is to ransack the archives for more and more clues as to where the artist's muse may have taken them next, to cultivate a tissue of creative theories and "what ifs".

Recorded during his 1995-96 world tour, Mystery White Boy is not Jeff Buckley's first posthumous release; the album he was working on when he drowned in the Mississippi in 1997 was released a year later as (Sketches for) My Sweetheart the Drunk. It is also not Buckley's first in-concert issue - live releases of varying rarity having been available throughout his career (indeed, his debut recording was the solo-acoustic Live at Sin-e EP).

And yet, in every imaginable sense, Mystery White Boy is not only justified, but an essential release. For, as with Grace, the 1994 debut studio album that announced Buckley's prodigious talents, this album is a declaration of the commendable disregard he and his band had for the limits and conventions of what is termed "rock music". It stands as a testament to Buckley's eclectic soul, and his restless on-stage creativity.

So Mystery White Boy preserves for ever moments such as Buckley segueing Hallelujah into a cover of the Smiths' I Know it's Over, and

his radical, emotionally annihilating deconstruction of Big Star's

Kanga Roo. Critics slammed his performances of this period as self-indulgent, but given the essential drabness of most mainstream rock, and certainly the soul-destroying perfunctoriness of so much live performance today, such wilful playfulness and daredevil leaps of fancy deliver a rare thrill. Mystery White Boy proves that it wasn't the technical quality of Buckley's falsetto that made him special, rather the emotionally devastating way he wielded it (see the ragged, intense Grace, and a positively careworn Lilac Wine). This fact seems to have been lost on the glut of Buckley copyists who fall so short of the master in their passion for note-perfection.

The album also adds a further layer of intrigue to the circumstances of the artist's death, and his relationship with deceased troubadour father Tim Buckley. Jeff's snarling (at himself, with reference to Tim?) "You're just like him!" in Dream Brother is a truly chilling moment, as is the drowning fantasy (not present on the studio version) that closes the song. Coincidental, no doubt, but still disquieting.

Even among the smattering of unrecorded Buckley originals contained here, Mystery White Boy doesn't clearly indicate what direction his musical journey may have taken next. Instead, it's a momentary crystallisation of an unpredictable firebrand whose erratic creativity was an essential element of his music, and certainly the finest portrait of what he was about since Grace. Pull up a stool, and mourn the loss.

#jeff buckley #Jeff Buckley; The big album #stevie chick #the times london england #the times #May 6 2000 #2000 #May

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daigina-3 · 1 year

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Passing Notes (in Secrecy)

(A childhood crush to nothing to something fic)

(1/4)

In 7th grade Steve Harrington likes a girl for the first time. Outwardly, he likes girls when it’s convenient. When it gets his friends off his back, when it makes him looks cool.

This new girl at Hawkins Middle, though? The one with the curly brown hair and dimples and flannels that are too big for her? Steve doesn’t like her to be cool or whatever; she’s just for Steve.

But then the new girl Steve likes isn’t actually a new girl at all.

✨Read it on AO3!✨

Steve sees her across the hall.

Or, he sees her hair first, through a thinning crowd of other middle schoolers, running to their lockers or their friends lockers to chat and escape class for a few minutes.

She slams her locker closed and turns- Steve just barely catches her face, pretty with her nose scrunched up like she’s mad- before she does a 180 and disappears down the hall.

(Years later, Steve would scoff at his seventh grade self. The least of his problems.)

For the first time, without anyone around, Steve likes a girl.

“Hey, Steve,” Carol calls in the other direction. Tommy H and the others- Brian, Isaac, the whole gang are waiting.

He sees her name, kind of. Written sloppy on the paper she’s got crushed in her hands- a B on some math homework- he reads ELLIE MUNSON.

Ellie Munson. It’s cute. Ellie. Ellie.

He tucks the name away next to the little feeling in his chest.

Ellie.

A week later, he has a note written up. A little torn out piece of notebook paper, folded up into eighths in the breast pocket of his jacket. Right next to the tucked away little feeling in his heart and the tucked away Ellie . Ellie and the little feeling and the note squeeze in his chest, tight. He gets on the bus- it won’t take him home, but it’s the bus he knows Ellie will be riding because he told his mom he had to stay after school the day before so he could scope out the bus pick up- and she’s not there.

He takes out the little folded up paper and fiddles with it in his fingers. He pouts, looks out the window, feels the nerves drain out of him slow and sad.

Another day.

Thump .

Someone plops down next to him and Steve’s little pinch in his chest becomes a choke hold because holy shit it’s her. It’s her.

They pass by three stops before Steve kicks himself. He doesn’t know when she gets off but he can’t miss it now. He can’t.

He clutches the note in his hand.

“Uh- Hi- Ellie?”

“…yeah?” She mumbles, quiet.

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t plan this far ahead- sit next to the pretty girl, give her the note, hope she says yes. But what does he say ?

“I, uh. Your hair is real pretty.” It’s not his best move- but other girls love compliments. Steve had called Natalie H’s eyes cute once and she had kissed him on the cheek. So maybe..

Ellie just blank faces him, looks a little confused. Offended, maybe?

Steve panics a little.

He has no idea where to go from here, so with his heart in his throat and his little tucked away feeling blown up to the size of a hot air balloon in his chest, Steve takes the little note folded up in eighths and thrusts it towards Ellie, his arms stiff.

She stares at him for four agonizing seconds before taking it.

And the note is about as elegant as the China-glass-fragile ego of a seventh grade boy will allow- which is to say, Steve had written, using his best pen in very careful handwriting:

Ellie,

Hi. I’m Steve. You’re a really cool girl. I like you. Will you go out with me?

[_] YES or [_]NO

Steve

Steve watches her, his lips pressed together in a thin line, the hot hair balloon in his chest ready to explode.

“You don’t have to answer now,” he manages to get out- is praying she’ll smile and slip it in her pocket. Maybe sit a little closer to him on the bus seat and share her headphones.

Her eyebrows knit together.

Her lips purse in a sour frown.

She looks at Steve like he’s something nasty stuck to her shoe.

Steve has never felt more scared.

“Is this a joke ? You’re not fucking funny,” Ellie spits, her voice is poison, it’s anger, she hates Steve and he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his mind around it and the feeling in his chest that got so big, that choke hold that was so tight- it’s going for the kill.

“No- no, I-“

“I told your dumb friends- I’m not a girl,” she snarls and balls the paper up in her hand.

“Wait- huh? No-“

Steve looks Ellie over and he’s not Ellie at all. On his messenger bag at between them, among the little buttons and pins a hand-sewn on patch says EDDIE in big bold letters.

Eddie Munson was not a girl.

Steve screams- not because Eddie but because he has so many things he wants to say all at once- I’m sorry I didn’t know and I didn’t know and it’s fine I don’t care I’m sorry and it wasn’t a joke I wouldn’t joke about that and I didn’t mean it- and I’m sorry-