#bowed double bass

[leftfield-fm]

You remember a track called "Ruby Tuesday?" Well, from a visual point of view, one of the funniest things I have ever seen was Bill and Keith playing a single double-bass! Bill couldn't manage it, he's very thin and he just couldn't hold the strings down and play as well, so he marked the notes on the neck of the bass in white pencil. He wasn't very sure, anyway, and he held the strings down with both hands while Keith plucked it. It was really beautiful!

Glyn Johns, from an interview in Hit Parader magazine, Dec. 1968

#the rolling stones #60s music #psychedelic pop #ruby tuesday #music trivia #behind the scenes #double bass #bill wyman #[the nonce] #keith richards #glyn johns #it's important to note that the double-bass on 'Ruby Tuesday' was actually bowed #so adjust your mental images thusly

[ronaldsachsviolinss]

Buy Best Double Bass Bows In Atlanta GA

The heartbeat of any orchestra, the double bass! And what's a bass without its bow? Dive into our collection of double bass bows at Ronald Sachs Violins. Meticulously crafted and balanced to perfection, it's not just a bow – it's the conductor to your musical prowess.

#double bass bows

[srijellyfishtempura]

The only actual reason to have a double bass bow is to play the vibraphone

#/s #i actually really love the sound of a bowed double bass #but bowed vibraphone is also amazing and better

[kithtaehyung]

🎶 Composition of the Century (The Collab Masterlist!) 🎶

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the concert hall.

Take your seats and silence your phones, we have the genius Min Yoongi himself to celebrate on his thirtieth birthday!

Isi (@raplinesmoon), Ryen (@kithtaehyung) and Mars (@joheunsaram) are stoked to announce the masterlist for our second BTS 30 for 30 collab. For this collaboration, we have gathered 30 fantastic writers to showcase 30 musical pieces celebrating Yoongi's brilliant mind during his birth month.

🎼 All details/ratings of the upcoming lineup are under the cut. These fics are slated to go on tour by March 15th, so get ready to be moved (and don’t forget to come back and give them a listen!)

by the time i've figured out what it's worth (m) by @ugh-yoongi ⤷ Guitar 🤍 Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 est. relationship, marriage au | angst, smut

🎼 You used to find comfort in it—listening to those old songs, an aural timeline of your and Yoongi’s relationship. The shy sounds of falling in love, the tinkling of a ring in a dish, the inevitable crash and burn. All those songs aren’t so comforting anymore, when you’d do anything to keep him and Yoongi’s got one foot out the door.

🎧 Listen Here!

The Eternal Prince (13+) by @phenomenalgirl9 ⤷ Accordion 🤍 Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 fantasy, reincarnation au | action

🎼 Everyone heard of the Prince who got cursed to be a beast for being too proud of his beauty, ever heard of the Prince who got cursed to have a frozen heart because he was cold? But, only one thing can thaw the ice in his heart, love. And only one person can give it to him, Y/n, will he be able to save her this time round? This time round, will his heart thaw?

🎧 Listen Here!

Seductress In Satin (M) by @daimyosjeon ⤷ Songwriting 🤍 Songwriter!Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 est. relationship au | smut

🎼 Yoongi has been ignoring you for a couple of weeks now because of his work. Finally, it's time to step up your game.

Pull On My Heart Strings (13+) by @cutest-bunny-writings ⤷ Harp 🤍 Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 angst, fluff

🎼 You've been waiting for this show for so long. To see award winning harpist Min Yoongi perform live, in a front row seat! What could possibly go wrong?

🎧 Listen Here!

Please Linger (M) by @matchy6812 ⤷ Synrix 🤍 Musician!Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 fantasy au | humor, smut

🎼 After terrorizing the villagers with one too many pranks, you’ve been locked away in The Tower to atone for your petty crimes. As far as you know, The Tower is impenetrable. Nobody can get in, and nobody can get out. It seems you’ll never escape—until one night, a man named Yoongi barges in…

🎧 Listen Here!

Floating Chapels (17+) by @persephonesorchid ⤷ Chimes 🤍 Yoongi x Reader 🎶 regency au, strangers to lovers | angst, fluff

🎼 You open a music school for underprivileged youth and since the beginning, you've had an anonymous doner: they provide your students with instruments and general funding. One day, Duke Min presents himself and a grand offer for you and your students.

The Departure (M) by @sugalaritae ⤷ Double Bass 🤍 Classical Musician!Yoongi x Classical Musician!Jungkook 🎶 rivals to lovers, exes to lovers, romance | angst, light fluff, smut

🎼 It's been 5 years since Jungkook's seen Yoongi play live. 5 years since he was in the same room as Yoongi. 5 long years and so much has changed. Now, on the evening of what looks like Yoongi's last concert, Jungkook watches from the audience. Every finger movement reminds him of what it felt like to be touched. Every bow movement pulls out an old memory tucked away reminding him how intoxicating it was to play with Yoongi and oh! how he aches for a chance once again. Except he's ruined everything, and nothing will ever be the way it was. Especially Yoongi.

🎧 Listen Here! 

unrequited love (& other clichés) (m) by @hot-soop ⤷ Cello 🤍 Cellist!Yoongi x Violinist!Reader(f) 🎶 non idol au, friends with benefits | angst, smut

🎼 Namjoon thinks it’s almost funny how both of you were dumped a year apart to the day. (It’s not.) While you’re partial to ignoring your problems, Namjoon likes to analyse. He cries a lot. Has an existential crisis. Starts talking about how suffering breeds creativity. Quotes a bunch of arseholes like Huxley and Lennon, and apparently the validation from a few long dead greats is all he needs to get the ball rolling. So sure, you’ll go along with it - because he’s your friend and you’re feeling numb to everything anyway. Namjoon needs a way to process his pain. But when his community orchestra project takes off and becomes something bigger than either of you expected, you think maybe the distraction is something of a blessing - especially when it brings Min Yoongi, someone you knew from before, someone who’s going through a heartbreak of his own.

all that we wouldn’t say (m) by @effortandmore ⤷ Producer 🤍 Yoongi x Namjoon 🎶 canon-divergent (post-disbandment), exes to lovers | angst, smut

🎼 If Yoongi told someone that letting go of BTS and Namjoon at the same time was hard, it would be a gross understatement. It was, in fact, the worst year or so of his life, but he’s managed to somehow move on. He’s had time, therapy, and lots of friends, family, and work to distract him. Things are good now—the best they’ve ever been, maybe. But Yoongi knows better than anyone that good things don’t always last, and that point is proven when Namjoon shows back up in his life out of nowhere with an album that needs producing and questions Yoongi doesn’t have the answers to.

harder, better, faster, stronger (m) by @the-boy-meets-evil ⤷ Synth 🤍 Synth Player!Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 non-idol au | fluff, smut, probably not angst

🎼 Yoongi had it all. He was part of one of the most famous musical acts on the world. Sold out shows, endless opportunities to collaborate, everything he'd wanted. And he had a great personal life free from all that since so few people knew what he actually looked like. Enter you, the new person he's head over heels for. Only one problem - you have no idea he's part of the group and don't seem particularly fond of them. Will he tell you what he actually does for a living or chicken out after hearing another of your rants?

moonlight sonata (m) by @sugarwithtea ⤷ Piano 🤍 Pianist!Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 enemies to lovers | angst, fluff, smut

🎼 Passion is a fickle thing. It is a feeling that drives you to success, but if lost -- you can turn as stagnant as a pond. Min Yoongi has always took pride in his passion, his skill, his art. But what happens when slowly the flame dies inside him? He returns back home, to the place where he had started to love music. But, you are there. The bane of his existence. You hate him like a sweltering flame, bigger than his passion for music. And you, are not so thrilled with the news of his return. What happens when you both inevitably cross paths and start a saga of hate and love?

🎧 Teaser!

가연 (Ga-yeon) (m) by @raplinesmoon ⤷ Bassoon 🤍 Restaurant Owner!Yoongi x Nurse!Reader 🎶 fake dating au | angst, fluff, smut

🎼 Your younger sister is getting married at the end of the summer, and while everyone else in your family rejoices, you’re stuck without a date and picking up extra shifts, your previous failures coming back to haunt you. The only comfort you can find is in the tiny hole-in-the-wall Korean place that seems to stay open all night, and its handsome owner Yoongi. But what happens when your circumstances force you to rope Yoongi into a crazy plan? Will the lines between you begin to blur, or will the events of the summer bring some much needed clarity to your otherwise murky life?

A Love Supreme (M) by @gimmethatagustd ⤷ Saxophone 🤍 Musician!Yoongi x Author!Reader 🎶 cruise ship au, strangers to lovers | light angst, fluff, humor, smut

🎼 After your most recently published novel miserably flops, shipping yourself off to sea on a three-week cruise without reliable internet or cell phone service sounds like a great way to run from your problems (and your editor). You don’t expect to find the cure for writer’s block at the cruise ship’s jazz club in the form of an uptight saxophone player.

Dissonance (M) by @sailoryooons ⤷ Clarinet 🤍 Musician!Yoongi x Musician!Reader 🎶 enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers | a little angst, smut

🎼 You have worked endlessly for everything in your life. Your scholarship, your high standing at Juilliard, and most certainly trying to afford an apartment in New York while chasing your dreams in the legendary halls of musical geniuses. And then there’s Min Yoongi, who works hard at nothing, who doesn’t care to study, and who shows up late to everything. After three years of dealing with him, you are determined to take first chair from him during your final semester at Juilliard. Even if it kills you.

Standing Right Here (M) by @sweetestofchaos ⤷ Keyboard 🤍 Business Management Major!Yoongi x Business Management Major!Reader 🎶 college au, friends to lovers | angst, fluff, light smut

🎼 As the youngest son of the Min family, Yoongi is forced to follow in his father's footsteps to help take care of the family business. Yoongi goes about his college life with his head down, keeping to himself but one encounter outside with a classmate changes Yoongi's view about his life. When Yoongi's father catches wind, Yoongi is giving an ultimatum that will change his life forever. Will he make the right call or be left standing alone?

🎧 Listen Here!

Insatiable (M) by @mincursedarokster ⤷ Janggu Drum 🤍 Actor!Yoongi x Actor!Jimin 🎶 romantic comedy, rivals to lovers | fluff, some smut

🎼 When Yoongi loses his top spot in a recent poll to Jimin, the last thing he expect was to find himself on set with the younger male and having to take him under his mentorship as they work together in period piece where Jimin is the vocalist to Yoongi's Janggu playing. Whilst everyone around him see’s Jimin as the perfect little angel, a doting mentee, Yoongi knows differently. Can Yoongi keep his sanity and his composure on set dealing with the insatiable appetite of the devilish angel?

Hexed (T) by @minisugakoobies ⤷ Oboe 🤍 Witch!Yoongi x Vampire!Seokjin 🎶 supernatural, enemies to lovers, witch au | fluff, humor

🎼 Ancient vampire Jin really has it all - fame, fortune, and undying good looks. His immortal life is perfect... or it would be, if it weren't for that annoying(ly handsome) witch Yoongi and his unearthly desire to make Jin's world an unliving hell.

The Song of Us (PG) by @seokra 🤍 Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 contemporary romance | fluff

🎼 What was supposed to be a simple cafe date, turns into a night of adventure in a world of music you’ve never experienced before.

Gold (M) by @yoongimingyu ⤷ Vocals (Singing) 🤍 Yoongi x Reader(f) 🎶 est. relationship | fluff, smut

🎼 One thing your boyfriend isn’t shy about is his musical talent. He puts words together in a way that completely convinces you that that’s how they were supposed to be all along – strung next to each other just like that. The fact that he knows it too… It's pretty hot, honestly. You know he enjoys getting to show off a little – sit you down, share what he’s been working on and watch you light up with pride. All of this only makes it especially intriguing when he gets suddenly bashful about his most recent songwriting development.

🎧 Listen Here! 

A Change of Rhythm (PG) by @min-yumniverse ⤷ Trumbone 🤍 Yoongi x Musician!Reader 🎶 contemporary romance, hurt/comfort, comedy | slight angst, fluff

🎼 Music doesn’t feel as powerful as it once has. The notes on the keyboard feel boring, and uninteresting. The guitar and drums feel likewise. Each day feels like it’s littered with laziness and unamusement. Which means; it’s time for a change of rhythm.

🎧 Teaser! | 🎧 Listen Here!

all about that bass (m) by @augustbutwinter ⤷ Bass 🤍 Yoongi x Reader 🎶 band au | crack, fluff, light smut

🎼 Yoongi’s band tries to get their grumpy bassist laid. Little do they know he has a secret.

Time Out (M) by @bangtanintotheroom ⤷ Vocals (Rap) 🤍 Underground Rapper!Yoongi x Underground Rapper!Reader(f) 🎶 non-idol au, not-quite lovers | angst, fluff, smut

🎼 What you and Yoongi had going on now was a far cry from the days when the two of you would be at each other’s throats with lyrics that cut sharp as a knife. But lately, you’ve been pulling back, busy with something that you didn’t want to divulge to Yoongi just yet. And now, he can’t help but wonder if you want to go back to those old days...

Beat of my Heart (M) by @joonminshua ⤷ Tambourine 🤍 Yoongi x Afab!Reader 🎶 college au, band au, strangers to lovers | fluff, humor, smut

🎼 'How hard can it be to play the tambourine? You just shake it around and smack it and then you have music, right?' That’s what you think until you’re holding the instrument in your hand and it sounds nothing like the way it does when Min Yoongi, your college’s musical prodigy, plays it during band practice. When he reluctantly decides to help you practice, you start to notice just how serious he is about the unassuming percussion instrument. You also start to notice just how passionate, kind, and undeniably handsome he is. Needless to say, you didn’t intend on picking up a crush alongside your new hobby.

Counting Time (M) by @mrworldwideshoulders ⤷ Xylophone 🤍 Percussionist!Yoongi x Flutist!Reader 🎶 college au, enemies to lovers (or so she thinks) | fluff, eventual smut

🎼 Min Yoongi only cares about two things. One: keeping his parents off his back. Two: finishing college on time so he can spend one last summer playing gigs with his band before he has to start working and join the rat race. Faced with losing out on his summer plans over a missing course credit or joining concert band, a guaranteed easy A, the choice is obvious. He knows how to count the beats. He just never counted on you.

Muffled Tones (21+) by @nabiolive ⤷ Drums 🤍 Drummer!Yoongi x Groupie!Reader(f) 🎶 glam rock au, strangers to lovers | angst, fluff, smut

🎼 To Yoongi, all that mattered was sex, drugs, and rock & roll. Then you came along, and although he couldn't stop thinking about you, his priorities remained the same.

dearly bereft. (nc-17) by @rkivian ⤷ Flute 🤍 Flutist!Yoongi x Duchess!Reader 🎶 forbidden romance, exes au, suggestive | angst

🎼 dearly bereft, you should be aware by now, that your words are only a product of your silly little heads - that which is also stubborn... that which puts your drivenness to perilous use. alternatively, yoongi's audacious company is to blame for your failure of ending your repetitive endeavours.

Inconvenient (M) by @v-hope-mins ⤷ French Horn 🤍 Jazz Lounge Owner!Yoongi x Heiress!Reader 🎶 marriage of convenience, friends to lovers | fluff, smut

🎼 While on a family vacation, your father delivers his ultimatum. He wishes you to be married before taking over more responsibilities in your family’s hotel chains. Either you choose someone, or he puts forward his own suitor. He admits he already has a suitor in mind - Kim Seokjin. Feeling betrayed you walk out of the lunch. Your walk leads you to an old acquaintance, Min Yoongi. The two of you get to talking, your conversation leading you to make a decision. A marriage of convenience. Yoongi obviously thinks it's a bad idea, but you convince him. However, Yoongi proves to be too good of a husband, and suddenly your growing feelings become inconvenient. How are you supposed to survive in a marriage of convenience when you're falling for your husband?

beguiling melody (m) by @ressjeon ⤷ Gayageum  🤍 Vampire!Yoongi x Seamstress!Reader 🎶 romantic suspense, strangers to lovers, historical fantasy, 1800s au, voyage au

🎼 Secretly boarding the ship in hopes of finding a better life had not been easy. Even more so when you witness something that could have put your life in danger. but the ominous yet captivating stranger sparks your curiosity when he began targeting your greatest desires - making you question if his intentions are to solely ensure that you will keep his secret.

———————————————————————

adagio (pg-15, nc-17) by @lveclouds ⤷ Violin 🤍 Violinist!Yoongi x Princess!Reader 🎶 forbidden love, strangers to lovers | heavy angst, fluff

🎼 In which Queen Mara’s only heir falls for a gorgeous violinist with a mysterious and shrouded past.

———————————————————————

Lasting Melody (R) by @joheunsaram ⤷ Conductor 🤍 Conductor!Yoongi x Violinist!Reader 🎶 exes to lovers | angst, fluff, smut

🎼 The flowers blooming always reminded you of the spring you spent in the arms of your program’s recluse. The man who was too shy to even raise his hand in class but bold enough to ask for your number. With years spent apart and your fame making it harder to build any connections, you thought about him sitting at his piano composing a melody you played when life got too hard. The same melody echoing through the empty theatre you stumbled onto to hide from the rain.

———————————————————————

to zanarkand (m) by @kithtaehyung ⤷ DJ 🤍 Yoongi x DJ!Reader(f) 🎶 marriage au, childhood friends to lovers | angst, fluff, smut

🎼 Your best friend has explicitly entrusted you to be in charge of all the music for his wedding. Which means you get a back row seat to watch the love of your life walk down the aisle. To the song that brought you together in the first place.

Thank you to all the participants and everyone showing love! If you would like to be tagged in any of these fics, go ahead and comment on this post so the writers that do tag readers are made aware :D (Or you can definitely drop a sweet message in their inboxes and/or check if they have a taglist form!)

Lastly, let's give a huge round of applause for these wonderful artists👏 They're working hard on these pieces for Yoongi Day, and even a little bit of support goes a long way💕

#ahhhh the setlist has been revealed! #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts #bts fic #composition of the century #cotc #cotcmasterlist #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #let's show these writers some love y'all! #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x member

[forlorn-crows]

How's about kiss #19 with mountrain? ♡

#19 . . . for luck

“This is new for many of us. Including myself. But let’s give them a fucking good show, eh?”

Copia finishes his speech by sticking his fist in the middle of the circle. Each of the ghouls taps his gloved knuckles with their own, a silent gesture of solidarity. Copia smiles, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do it!”

Mountain glances over at Rain, head hanging low and peaked shoulders of his jacket drooping forward. 

“Hey—” Mountain taps Rain’s arm gently with the tips of his drumsticks as they break away from the group huddle. “You’re gonna do great, tadpole,” he stage whispers. 

The water ghoul takes his bass from a nearby tech and slings it over his shoulder, fingers immediately fiddling with the picks tucked under the pickguard. Miming out tabs with the other. Mountain can’t see the way his eyebrows furrow behind the mask, forcing himself to focus despite the first show jitters.

“Nervous,” Rain huffs after a handful of seconds. “What if they don’t like me?” 

Mountain shakes his head. “I know they’ll love you.” He pulls down his balaclava so he can see his sly smile. “Plus, you look good in the outfit. Who’d be mad at that?”

Rain rolls his eyes, but a sliver of his bottom lip shows over his own covering as he bites back a smile. He nods. The grin fades when he glances past the wings at the stage, though, bathed in only the ultraviolet hue of the working lights. Eerily empty, jagged at the corners. 

“Tadpole.” Rain jumps a little at the earth ghoul’s voice, shaken out of his daze. Mountain’s arm loops around his waist, and he knocks their fake horns together sweetly. “You’ll be by me, remember? I’ve got you.”

The water ghoul looks at him, glamoured baby blue eyes looking back at him with fondness and promise. “Okay,” he mouths more than speaks. 

Mountain smiles then. “C’mere.” He pulls at Rain’s balaclava, tugging him closer and pulling it off his mouth at the same time. When their lips meet, he sinks into it, melting into the warm hand cradling his jaw. Gripping onto Mountain’s shirtsleeve like he might lose him if he doesn’t. 

The kiss is tender, but brief. A moment of calm in the sudden whirlwind of bodies around them. Rain doesn’t want it to end, but he knows it has to. 

“For luck,” Mountain says when he pulls away. He rights Rain’s balaclava, and then his own.

As if on queue, the droning synth of Ashes rumbles through the sound system, reverberating through the butterflies in his chest and sending a zing of anticipation down his spine. There’s a flurry of movement as everyone migrates to places, mumbles of directions to sound and lighting, microphones being checked and double checked by black-sneakered techs. Less than forty seconds to go. Dew silently squeezes past them and takes his place downstage left, head bowing low with arms tucked behind his back. Cumulus squeezes both their shoulders as she passes, bouncing on the balls of her little heels, giddy and ready to go.

And yet beside him, Mountain is still and unbothered, much like his namesake. Tenured into his role and his routines. 

As soon as the children's nursery rhyme begins to echo across the auditorium, the earth ghoul grabs his hand. Tips his head towards the stairs upstage right and starts to move. 

“Come along, darling. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

#happy mountain monday!!! #ask #miasma #send me a number and i'll write a kiss #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain x rain #rain x mountain #mountain/rain #rain/mountain #no more kissies for rain tho mountain is in SeriousTM mode now

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Two: Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide.

Last Chance to Dance: Part One

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 11.2k

A/N: I love you guys, send me blurbs and one shots to write. <3

The roar of the crowd vibrates my entire core as the four of us wait to run on the stage; we did our huddle, and I jumped back and forth on the balls of my feet as we waited for our signal. Gareth goes out first, sits behind the drums, and his feet hit the double bass petal, followed by the snare. The rest of us run out to the stage, the crowd’s cheers get louder, and I slam the riff to Poison Me on my guitar. We ease into the song beautifully, I go up to the mic, singing the lyrics to the song. It’s one of our oldest songs, and a fan favorite. Jeff growls out the sub lyrics as I jump around the stage, throwing Sweetheart around my shoulder, my hair whipping around my face. The adrenaline courses through my veins, and I feel the sweat pour down my chest as I go into a guitar breakdown. Gareth sings the last part of the song while drumming. We hadn’t spoken about the other night; we really haven’t spoken at all, but we had other things to focus on. 

Once the song ends, I take a beer bottle from the side of the stage, swallowing the whole thing back, smiling as I toss the empty bottle into the crowd. I go up to the microphone, moving my damp hair out of my eyes. 

“What the fuck is up Atlanta?!” I shout in the microphone and laugh when the crowd roars to life again. “It’s crazy being back here, we’re on the last leg of the tour so we appreciate you guys coming out!” A pair of panties gets thrown at me and I catch it with one hand, I stick my tongue out and wave it around my fingers. I toss it to the ground and pull my shirt over my head, getting screams and cheers from the crowd. 

I strum the cords on Sweetheart, looking behind me at Gareth, who nods, and we go into the next song. The rest of the night was phenomenal; it made me a little sad that it would be a while before we came back here. Once we ended the night with an encore of If it bleeds red from our first album, we all do a bow, I blow kisses to the crowd, get two to three more pairs of panties thrown at me, I take one pair, shoving it in my back pocket as we leave the stage. 

I immediately take a bottle of water from the mini fridge in our dressing room and chug it, pouring the rest over my body, the cold water biting my skin so pleasantly. 

Jeff claps my shoulder. “Good show, brother.” 

I smile at him, wiping my hair out of my face. “You too.” I plop on the couch, taking the pair of panties out of my pocket and throwing it at him, he catches it awkwardly and laughs. “Do something with these.” 

“Ew, they’re all sweaty.” Jeff immediately tosses them in the trash, and I giggle, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. I lean my head back against the couch, closing my eyes. I hear a commotion in the back hallway, and I see Gareth’s form come through the door, looking like Hulk, full of rage.

“Trashing hotel rooms now?” He shouts at me, throwing an envelope at me, which I assume is a bill, I don’t even bother looking at it.

“I cleaned up.” I tell him, inhaling on the cigarette again.

“No, you didn’t! Are you fucked in the head or what? They found dirty fucking needles in the bathroom trash; the housekeeper almost stuck herself with one!” I almost feel guilty at that, almost. 

“I’ll write them a check to pay for the damages.” I mutter. “There, problem solved.”

Gareth’s eyes are wide as he stares at me, he laughs. “Dude, you’ve completely lost it. We’re not allowed back there, or any of the other hotels affiliated with them because of your fuck up.” 

I get up from the couch, I can feel Jeff’s eyes on me; he stands off to the side listening. He knew about me and my habits, but like the smart man he was, he didn’t say shit. Or he just didn’t care anymore. I gaze up at Gareth. 

“Just calm down, man. There are other hotels we can stay at. We’re not even gonna be back here for a long time, they’ll be over it by then.” I toss my t-shirt over my head, lighting up another cigarette.

“That’s not the fucking point, Eddie!” He screams at me. “When the fuck did you start shooting up?”

I smile and roll my eyes. “That’s none of your business.” 

“It is my fucking business.” He growls, blocking my way to leave the room and I glare at him. 

“Get the fuck out of my way.” I say, my voice low, full of anger now. 

“Why? So, you can go and shoot up in your room? No.” 

“Gareth, I’m not in the fucking mood, get out of my way.” I try to push past him, but he pushes me back, I stumble a little and a maniacal laugh escapes me, I feel like the Joker. “So strong you are, do it again, I dare you.” 

“This stops now.” He tells me. “The drugs, the women, all of it.” 

“What are you my fucking dad? I have it under control.” 

“Clearly you don’t! Are you high right now? Or is it just a bedtime routine for you?” He stares at me like I’m the biggest piece of shit in the world, maybe I am, but I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit right now. 

“Fuck off.” I tell him. “Move out of my fucking way. I’m done looking at you.”

“No, I’m not moving. You’re gonna stand there and be a fucking man and listen to what I have to say!”

“I’m done fucking listening!” I scream at him. “All I hear is fucking garbage spewing from your mouth, I’m over it and I’m fucking tired. Get out of my way.” 

I put my hands on his chest, pushing him out of the way. I’ve never put my hands on him before, but I was fucking angry. He pulls me back by my arm, and I lean back, my fist connects with his jaw, and he stumbles back into the wall. He tackles me to the ground, and we roll around, throwing punches at each other; he gets me in the gut, and I groan, kicking him off of me. My fist connects with his face a few more times before Jeff is pulling me off of him and security is holding back Gareth. I can taste the blood on my lips, and I wipe it away. 

Gareth glares at me, and I glare back. 

“Bet that felt good, huh?” I say to him, walking out of the room. I feel my manager gently touch my forearm and I pull away from him. “Leave me alone.” 

The hotel was only a minute walk from the venue, the warm air feels good against my skin, and I can already feel a bruise forming on my gut from where Gareth got me. I go into the hotel lobby through the elevators, leaning my head against the wall. The elevator things and a beautiful redhead walks into the elevator. My eyes scan over her body; her ass. She can feel my eyes on her, and she glances behind her shoulder at me. I smile at her, and she smiles back.

The elevator dings again and we both get off. 

“Looks like we’re on the same floor.” I say, not looking at her but I know she hears me as I keep walking the opposite way to my room. “457.” 

Like a moth to a flame, the woman shows up not even ten minutes later, knocking on my door. I didn’t even clean up the blood from my face yet, but she didn’t seem to care, because as soon as I open my door, her mouth is on mine, and she’s grabbing my cock through my jeans. I liked watching her tits bounce as I slam into her, I especially liked sucking on them. They were huge, and beautiful and it was a great way to end this shit night. I put a condom on; I wasn’t in the mood for risk taking tonight. She knew how to fuck though, I don’t think I came up for air once. She was a squirter too; I felt like a fucking God when she exploded all over me, dripping on my chest and thighs. I ate her out for what felt like an eternity, but I needed it, and clearly, she needed it because she was screaming so loud, I thought the whole building would fall down. When she had left, she had given me her phone number, and like an asshole I said, “I won’t be needing this, but thanks.” 

She looked at me like I kicked her dog, and I shut the door behind her, stretching out every muscle until I hear a pop in my back. I run the bath, I make it scorching just so I can sit in it and relax. As soon as my body disappears under the water, a groan escapes me, and I slowly dip my head under the water. I let the water soak me before coming up for air, I move my hair out of my face and lean behind me to get my cigarettes. My lip had stopped bleeding, and I wondered if I got any blood all over that woman. I shake my head; tonight’s events were nothing short of shitty. I felt guilty for punching Gareth more than once, I’m not so sure he deserved three punches, maybe one, but not three. It was only a matter of time before someone found out I like my heroin in needles now. I scoff, I don’t fucking care, we put on a good show tonight, so maybe he should be grateful for that. I get out of the tub and dry myself off. I pull off my necklace and place it on the bathroom sink. I didn’t even bother putting pants on, I was just going to crawl into bed after I took my good night medicine. 

I get everything set up and this time, I don’t even bother using my belt; I’m able to find a vein, and I sigh with relief as the familiar burn flows through me like a current. I lean my back against the foot of the bed, my head lulling to the side and a smile graces my lips. 

I feel my dick get hard, and I close my eyes, gently rubbing my hand over the tip, gasping softly. You suddenly are on my mind; it almost scares me into stopping, but I don’t. I picture the last time we had made love; how you were the most beautiful thing on the planet to me, and that you were mine. I imagine you in front of me now, your eyes gazing into my soul as your lips go against mine. I groan as I pump harder on my dick, biting my lower lip. I let my hands travel down in between your legs, feeling your wetness all over my fingers as I pinch your clit and you moan loudly. I kiss your beautiful breasts, swirling my tongue around your nipple, sucking gently as you tremble beneath me, your hands fisting my hair. 

I tremble and groan, pumping faster. “Fuuuuck.” 

I move my mouth down to your clit and I move my tongue in circles, tracing your hole like a pretty picture. You taste so good, so sweet and mmmm, how I miss this. I get you to cum, and once the overstimulation has settled down with with you, I slowly push my myself inside you. I grip your hips, thrusting in an out and I can already imagine you clenching around me, another orgasm building inside you. Our moans are a collection of harmonies and I feel tingles in my lower belly. My head falling back in pleasure as a guttural moan escapes me. 

I pump faster, groaning as I feel my orgasm about to explode out of me, just picturing you screaming my name was enough for me to cum. A throaty broken moan escapes me and my cum drizzles down my hand as I gently slow down my fist.

I let out a breath, slowly laying my back on the carpeted floor. My chest heaving and I smile. Being high, and having an orgasm was something so out of this world that I can’t even begin to explain. It made me crave it more, it made me crave you more and I haven’t thought about you in such a long time. It had been years, over a decade. A dull ache hits the center of my chest and I sit up quickly. I search for the needle like a mad man, knowing I have some more left in the chamber. The ache gets bigger, and I begin to panic. No no no no no no no. I don’t want to feel this. I can’t feel it. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I find the needle rolled under the bed, and I was right. There was about 2 ml left in the syringe; enough to make me go night night. 

I fucking nick myself getting the needle into a different vein, I had missed it and ended up just stabbing a piece of muscle. Once I had collected myself, I was able to re position the needle, and push the rest of the drugs into my system. I let out a deep sigh once the ache in the center of my chest disappears and I’m back to feeling nothing except this immediate euphoria that makes me feel like I can do anything and everything. 

It made me feel immortal.  Spoon full of sugar...

You and I had walked down to the duck pond together a few days later, it was the 22nd of December; the sun was out, but it was chilly. I had just finished telling you about my fight with Gareth after the show in Atlanta. You were so compassionate about us and had listened with such care that I was shocked. I was certain you would’ve run away from me the moment I told you about the heroin. You didn’t, you just held my hand as I told you, hooking our arms together as we walked on. I gaze at you, wondering why you were so goddamn kind all the time. Especially to me.

We end up walking to the same neighborhood where you were house sitting for your aunt; it wasn’t too far from my condo, maybe ten minutes. You gaze up at me and smile.

“Wanna come in? It’s getting cold, I have hot cocoa and Home Alone in the DVD player.” You tell me and I smile at you; it was getting cold, and it sounded nice to get warm. I nod and follow you up the stone steps into your aunt’s apartment. The building was nice, it reminded me of a little hotel we stayed at in London a few years ago. 

I peel my jacket off as we get inside, hanging it up on the hook. I roll up my sleeves on my black shirt and watch as you make your way to the fireplace in the middle of the living room. You squat down, using a long lighter to get the logs lit, and sit back on your heels, closing the small doors. It gets warmer in the apartment, and you gently squeeze my hand as you walk by me into the kitchen. A shiver goes down my spine after you touch me, like my body had forgotten how soft your hands were, how delicate you’d be. 

I sigh, sitting on the couch, careful not to knock anything over with my long legs. You come back out with two mugs of the hot cocoa, gently placing one in front of me. You sit next to me, curling your legs under you and you start the movie.  We didn’t even watch the movie, we just talked most of the time. 

“I know there is probably a lot more to the story, but when you got sober, did you want to get sober, or were you essentially forced to?” You ask me gently and I turn to you, resting my elbow on my knee. 

I sigh. “No. I didn’t want to get sober, I was forced to, but they kept reminding me that I was an adult, I could leave the program if I wanted to. I could also spend a few weeks in jail if I didn’t at least start a program. Eventually, I found myself wanting to be there, and that’s why I have six months under my belt. The mandatory therapy is a struggle though.” I sip the cocoa and place it down on the table. 

“Why?” You ask me.

I chuckle, staring into your eyes. “I don’t like talking about my shit.” 

“Well, you’re talking about it with me.” You say with a smirk, and I let out a laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You’re different though, you’ve known me your whole life. My poor therapist is paid to listen to me.” I sigh and look into your eyes. “I guess I should give her a chance.”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt. I’m sure there’s things you’re purposely not telling me right now.” You say, leaning your head on your palm, giving me a sweet smile. I stare at your face, your beautiful, sweet face. Your eyes dart from my lips to my eyes again, and I see the familiar curiosity in them. You sigh, placing the mug on the table. “There’s something I have to talk to you about.” 

My heart does a little back flip, but I wait patiently. You stare at your hands, fingering the rings on your right hand, and I could tell your hands were shaking. You meet my eyes, and I can see yours are already filling with tears. 

“I won’t blame you if you want to leave after this, because it’s something for the last fifteen years that still gives me a lot of emotions and,” you sniffle back tears. “I don’t regret it, but it still hurts.” 

I gently take your hand, entwining are friends. “Sweetheart, you can tell me.” 

You meet my eyes and give me a sad smile. “A few weeks after you…left. I started feeling sick, and I found out I was pregnant.” My breath is locked in my throat, but I place my other hand over yours, squeezing you gently. “I didn’t…I couldn’t keep it. I was so young, I was still in college and…trust me, the thought of having a baby had crossed my mind, especially with someone I loved. But it would just be me…and I couldn’t, I couldn’t do that to them. Selfishly, I couldn’t do that to myself.” You begin to cry, your lips trembling as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Eddie.” 

I cup your face, staring deeply into your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, you got that? I don’t blame you for that. That was your decision to make, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry for all of it.” 

You shake your head and more tears flow from your eyes. “Why did you leave me?”

My eyes widen at your question, it’s been a question I’ve been trying to avoid since seeing you, but I’d be stupid to not realize it was gonna come up eventually. But I still can’t answer you. “I…”

You shake your head and laugh. “It doesn’t even matter, it doesn’t even fucking matter.” You pull away from me, moving yourself off the couch and wiping your face. You stare at me, your eyes full of hurt and pain, how desperately I just want to grab you, kiss you, taste you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, that I was here now, but the words were stuck in my throat. “I shouldn’t have written you that letter, I should’ve just left it alone like I have been for so many years. But everywhere I look, I see you. Cover of magazines, on the television, on the fucking internet. I avoided you for so long and then, your dreams came true. And I mean it when I say that I’m so proud of you, because I am, but I don’t know what I was thinking, having us see each other. Having us talk about the past.” 

I stare at you, trying to process everything, trying to understand. “You wanted me here.” I say softly. 

“I know, and I’m an idiot for wasting your time.” You cross your arms over your chest, and I feel myself getting angry. 

I scoff, shaking my head. “So, what is this then? You bringing me back to your aunt’s house? Making me hot cocoa like we’re back to fucking normal? What did you think you were gonna get out of this?” 

“Answers! Something, I don’t know!” You yell at me. “You’re telling me all about your drug addiction and your rift with the band, but you’re not telling me why. Why was heroin your saving grace? Why was that the only thing that made you happy? Why after so many years you can’t just talk about the deep-rooted issues that you have inside you? Why was it so hard for you to love and want to be loved?” 

I’m standing up now, your eyes dig into my soul, and I hate how well you still fucking see me. “You think I didn’t love you? Is that what this is?” 

“You never gave me a reason to think that you ever did!” 

“I loved you!” I scream at you. “I loved you so much that’s why I left!” It’s out of my mouth so fast I don’t even have a second to breathe before I realize what I just said. My eyes are wide as I stare at yours. You look like you did when I left you, and I can’t handle this again. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” 

I grab my jacket and head towards the door. 

“Eddie, where are you going?” You sound so hurt, I bite my lip, feeling my own tears forming in my eyes, I look back at you. “I’m sorry.” 

And I leave, again. Because that’s all I know to do. 

I run down her steps, wiping the tears off my face and the bitter cold stings my cheeks. I start running; I let myself take me wherever, I pass the street to my condo, I catch a glimpse of the Christmas lights downtown.  And I stop running, I’m standing in front of a bar.

A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine… I did too much, I realize as I’m trying to crawl towards my hotel bed from the bathroom. I grip the blanket, awkwardly pulling myself up onto the bed. I search the bed for my phone; and I grab it with weak hands. My vision was going in and out, and I scroll down my contact list for Ted, my manager’s name. I could’ve just called 911, but why would I do that when Ted has an endless supply of Narcan in his suitcase? I should just keep a few in my own suitcase; but this usually never happens. I think I just wanted to feel less and less tonight, I don’t know why. If I die, it’s on me, I lived a good life, but I really don’t want to die, so I’ll settle for this. 

I dial Ted, he can barely hear me because my voice is so slow, and I’m nodding out. He always has a spare key card for this exact situation, he was a good manager, I hate that I have to manipulate him to save my life. 

I don’t remember losing consciousness; I just remember seeing Ted’s face above mine, and the vomit hitting the back of my throat as I throw myself off the bed. Ted pushes a trash bucket under my head as I heave out everything and anything that was in my system. I sit back on my heels, wiping my face, my head lulls forward and I force myself to keep my eyes open. 

“Jesus, kid, how much did you do?” He glances around the hotel room, sees my supply on the bathroom sink. 

“I don’t know.” I mutter, getting to my feet, my legs are shaking as I stumble into the bathroom. I find the needle I used, and glance at it; there was nothing in there. Most of it was now in the trash can and swimming through my veins. I splash cold water on my face and grip the sink in front of me. I fix my eyes on myself, my face looks gaunt, like I saw the reaper for five minutes and came back. My curls were sticking to my face, my eyes were…

My eyes looked dead.

I place my hand over my chest, not feeling the necklace underneath and I begin to panic, it wasn’t where I normally put it. Ted stares at me with his mouth wide open as I’m tearing apart the bed, going through the drawers, trying to find my necklace. I’m screaming obscenities, and when I’m about to give up, I feel the necklace in my back pocket. I plop on the floor, clenching it in my hand, I look up at Ted. “What?” 

“I think you should go to the hospital, make sure you’re fully okay.” He tells me and I glare at him. He was in his pajamas, plaid bottoms, a dark grey t shirt. His wedding ring glistens in the light, and his dark blonde hair hung in loose waves at his shoulders. He was only in his mid-fifties, but because of me, he looked thirty years older than that. I don’t know why he still wears his wedding ring; she left him months ago.  

“No hospital, I’m fine.” I mutter, looking back at the necklace in my hand. “Thank you.” 

He sighs. “You’re not fine, Eddie. Do you know how many narcans I used to bring you back just now? Four. That’s more than half of what I have.” 

“Good thing you had them then.” I say, not meeting his eyes. 

“One of these days I won’t.” He says sharply and I finally meet his eyes. 

“What does that mean?” I ask, my high still buzzing in my veins but I’m already itching for another shot. 

“It means I’m not doing this anymore.” He sighs. “You’re like a son to me, Eddie. I’m tired of watching you slowly kill yourself.” 

I laugh and shake my head. “I’m not gonna sit hear and listen to your sad story about how much you love me and how if I died it would devastate you.” 

“It would!” He yells at me. “Jesus, kid. Do you even hear yourself?” 

“Yeah, I do. How could you love someone that slowly kills themselves every day? It’s better not to.” I find a vile of cocaine in my front pocket, this will take the edge of, and I do a little bump. I sniffle back the drugs. “Trust me.” 

Ted stares hard at me and shakes his head. “Pull yourself together the next two days, we leave for Portland on Monday.” He stands up, and I don’t bother watching him leave. I hear the door shut behind him and I lean my head against the wall, breathing deeply. I put the necklace over my head and tuck it into my shirt. It’s easier to just push people away, but it’s hard because you have to see these people every day, and these people watch your every move. 

It never used to be like this; I loved my life. I loved getting on stage, singing our songs, watching the eyes of my brothers light up whenever we’d hear the roar of the crowd. It had been almost ten years of this life, and I loved every minute of it. But I still felt something was missing. I tried to fill it with sex, I tried to fill with alcohol, but nothing and I mean nothing would work. 

Then one night, we’re at a party. It was the house of one of the bands we went on tour with a few years ago, I won’t say names, but it wouldn’t surprise many people. I got introduced to heroin that night, the bass player had a stash and had been snorting it all night. Once I let it fill my airways and I vomited everywhere, I felt the most beautiful feeling in the world. I fell in love with it, but after that night I swore I would only do it during parties. That was a big lie, because then I learned how to shoot it. Whoever I was with that time, I don’t even remember, I had them do it for me because I was too scared of needles, and I didn’t want to mess up. Once the drugs filled my veins it was all fucking over for me. I was hooked. I was more than in love. It became something that I would time in my head when to take, it was my medicine. Every thought that held onto pain, guilt, grief and madness, that all fizzled away once I learned how to do that, there was no going back for me.  I’ve been shooting heroin for two years, and Gareth just found out about it. I’m a good liar, and I’m good at hiding shit. 

I get up on my feet, stumbling into the wall slightly, and I throw myself on the bed. My arm stung where I had stuck myself, I must’ve missed a vein again. I was getting sloppy, I was rushing too much, I needed to slow down. 

I hear myself chuckle. Eddie Munson, slowing down? When pigs fly. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I sit at the bar, twirling a Diet Coke in my hands, I watch the ice cube move around, my heart was still racing. I had a sponsor I could call, but it was the holidays, I didn’t want to disrupt his peace. The place was crowded, it usually is this time of year. All the college kids were home for the holidays, vacations started for most people. I knew I shouldn’t have opened that letter; I knew it would’ve opened so many doors that I wasn’t ready to walk through yet. But seeing you, it awoken something in me that I forgot about, that I have kept buried for over a decade. 

Yes, I loved you. I loved you so much that it hurt to breathe. You were there for me when my dad went to prison, you were there for me when I would cry about my mom, about certain things I would remember. She was a distant memory now, a storybook character that almost seems fictional at this point. But it hurt to love you, it made it easier to just leave because then I couldn’t get hurt.

That’s so fucked up. 

I’m fucked up. 

I’m so fucked up. 

Why the fuck can’t I just make myself be happy? 

I’m thirty-four fucking years old, I should be married with children. I should be married to you! But no, I’d rather just kill myself with dope then be a goddamn human. 

I groan into my Diet Coke, and the bartender looks at me. I ask her for another one, I needed the bubbles. I don’t want to drink, drinking was never an issue, but it became one when I’d over do it because then I’d want to do something more. 

I feel a presence behind me, and I feel my guts fall into my asshole. My old dealer. What the fuck was he doing here? 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smiles at me, sitting down on the stool next to me. I stare at him; the words are stuck in my throat. “Oh, I live here now, if that’s what you’re wondering.” His eyes still held that dirtbag energy behind them, and he radiated egomaniac. I always hated him, but he supplied me the good shit and he made a profit off of me. When I didn’t have the money on me, he’d give me the drugs in other ways, ways that would benefit him. “You know, you were one of my best customers. Shame that’s no more.” 

I ignore him, sipping my Diet Coke. My hands begin to shake, and he notices this, smiling. He brings his mouth to my ear. “All you have to do is ask, baby boy.” 

I shiver at his words. Why was I scared? I didn’t want any. I just wanted a second's peace to my fucking self and this asshole has to come disrupt that. I turn my head to look at him and I smile at him.  “Yeah? That’s all I have to do? Well, why don’t you get up off that stool, and get the fuck out of my face?” 

He stares at me, and his eyes narrow. “Your loss, baby.” He winks at me as he walks away, and I let out out a breath that I’ve been holding in. I take my jacket off the back of my seat and throw it over my shoulders and rush out of the bar. I feel my legs buckle and I have to go down a small alley. I slide down to my butt and I feel the panic rising in my throat and the hot tears sting my eyes. I begin to hyperventilate, and I touch my pockets, seeing if I had brought my lorazepam, but of course I didn’t. He was right next to me, he had everything I wanted in his pockets, and I told him to fuck off. So, why do I feel like this? Why do I feel like I did something wrong? I groan loudly, wiping the tears from my eyes. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” I tell myself, quickly finding my cigarettes and lighting up. I let the smoke fill my lungs and I let out a shaky breath. I inhale deeply and slowly let out a breath. I begin to shiver; it was so cold back here. I felt like if I were to stand, I’d go back in that bar and I’d find him. I’d rather freeze to death out here then die with a needle in my arm. 

That’s funny, cause six months ago I would’ve rather have been dead with a needle in my arm, then be alive in a world without drugs. I stay here in this alley for what feels like hours, my legs were numb, my hands were freezing. My teeth were chattering, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my lips were blue. I need to move; I need to get my blood flowing again. I needed to stop feeling so fucking bad for myself and just fucking move. 

So, I get up, I stumble against the brick wall, trying to get feeling back into my limbs and I walk. I walk and walk until I see the familiar stone steps, and I keep walking until I’m inside. It was so much warmer in here. I don’t even know what fucking time it is; I knock anyway. My teeth were still chattering, and I was so, so cold. 

You open the door and your face falls when you see the sight of me. “Oh my god.” 

“I’m s-sorry. I just…” I begin to cry and you come towards me, pulling me towards the fireplace, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch, taking off my jacket, draping it over my shoulders. “I just had to walk somewhere. My-my old dealer was at the bar…I didn’t drink, I didn’t buy anything off of him, but he tempted me. And I wanted to, but I didn’t. I didn’t use.” 

Your arms rub my back and shoulders, as I still shiver. “Jesus Eddie, you’re freezing.” 

“I’m sorry I’m here, I know you don’t want me here…but I don’t think I can be alone tonight. I have no one else…I’m sorry.” I sniffle, wiping the snot from my nose. 

“Shhhhh.” You say to me, pulling my body into yours, your warmth already making me feel better as I rest my head on your chest. “I got you.” 

“I’m sorry.” I cry, gripping the back of your sweater. “I’m sorry.” 

You rock me gently, holding me tightly as I let every single feeling I have kept buried inside me flow out of me with my tears. My chest hurts as I sob, my throat felt like it was on fire, and I hold onto your waist for dear life. 

The fire feels nice against my skin, and I pull back to look at you. You stare at me with tears in your eyes; my hand goes to touch your face, my vision still slightly blurred. You shiver as my ringed fingers curl behind your hair and your fingers clench my jacket. Your mouth is on mine before I could even blink; I can taste your tears with my own and I carefully lick your lips with my tongue, and you open your mouth with no hesitation. Your hands fist my hair, and you push yourself onto my lap, kissing me with such urgency that causes me to groan against your mouth and I hold onto your hips. It was just like I remembered, how everytime your lips molded into mine I would feel a jolt of energy course through my veins. The blanket falls off my shoulders as I lean back on the floor, taking you with me. You straddle me, your hair drapes over me like a satin curtain and you roll your hips into mine. The friction causing the both of us to moan; it took that sound from the both of us to realize what we were doing, and you pull quickly away from my lips. I sit up, and you stare at me, your lips swollen, your eyes wide.

“I’m sorry.” I say quietly, running my hands over my mouth. “I don’t have to stay here.” 

“No, no it’s fine.” You shake your head, looking into my eyes, your hair a wild mess. “I don’t want you to be alone. My aunt has a spare bedroom, you can sleep there.” 

I nod at you, swallowing hard, bringing the blanket up around my shoulders, staring at my hands. “Thank you.” 

You nod, smiling softly at me and you gently pat my hand. “You didn’t cave, you’re still sober.” 

I nod. “I know.” 

You get up from the floor and help me to my feet. We stare at each other for a few moments, and you walk towards one of the closets. I watch as you take out a blanket and a pillow, you hand them to me, and I stare at your face. “I didn’t…I didn’t stop lo…” 

“The spare room is next to the bathroom.” You tell me quietly and I nod, sighing deeply, heading to the spare room. 

The room was small, but it had such a cozy feel to it, I felt like I was in a hallmark movie. The bedding was a soft quilt, there were little nick knacks on the walls, some creepy looking porcelain dolls but other than that, it was cute. The bed was comfortable too, spacious and wide. We didn’t say goodnight to each other, I think we just assumed we both went to bed. I felt my body temperature go back to normal; I took off my t shirt and my socks and shoes. I didn’t mind sleeping in my jeans. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling; I can’t believe I kissed you. I can’t believe you kissed me back. I shouldn’t have done it; but I needed to feel something else, something warm. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. 

You sit on the end of your bed, running your hands through your hair, and sighing loudly. Your lips felt numb from where he kissed you, so many years of trying to forget how it felt to be kissed by him, how it felt to taste him again. It was stupid of you to think that that wouldn’t happen. It was stupid of you to kiss him when he was that vulnerable. He feels safe with you, that you know for sure. Even after all these years. He said he left because he loved you; what does that even mean, you wonder? Why was he so afraid of love? It was the two of you since you were three years old, best friends who went through everything together. First kiss together, you lost your virginity to each other, and were inseparable until he left. 

He broke you, and it wasn’t even because you were in love with him. He took your friendship, and spit on it the second he left. He took years of comfort and wiping away tears and flushed it. You had a right to be angry. 

You needed to know why. Why was it so scary to love you? Your bare feet hit the carpet on the room you’re in and you swing open your door, ready to wake him up and demand answers, but you don’t, because he’s standing right in front of you. Your hands are already pulling him towards you before he can open his mouth, and his hands were ready to catch you when you jump up and wrap both your legs around his waist, kissing him deeply. You moan against his mouth, feeling the rush of adrenaline as his ringed fingers caress your bare skin under your night shirt. His hands grip your ass as you both fall onto the bed, his tongue dances with yours, your hands fist his hair, and he lets out a broken moan when your hands rub his erection through his jeans. He holds your face, pushing himself against you, pulling away to bite your lip gently. His lips travel to your neck, you gasp when you feel his teeth nip down on the spot below your ear. You caress his shoulders, your fingers clench at his back muscles and you feel his hand travel under your shirt, cupping your full breast in his hand, pinching your nipple, getting you to moan loudly. His mouth finds yours again, still gently tugging at your nipple and grinding against your soaking pussy. He groans softly, pulling himself back to stare at your face, he traces circles down your belly, over the elastic of your underwear and pulls them down.  He doesn’t break eye contact with you as you feel his two fingers slide into your cunt and your head falls back in pleasure. His mouth falls open as he watches you, pushing his fingers deeper. 

You gasp, your back arching. “Unghh my god…Eddie.” 

“I missed this.” The tone of his voice is full of so much eroticism, you almost scream. He uses his other hand to pull up your shirt, smiling when he sees the tattoo he loves, and he lowers his head down, licking your skin, tasting every inch. You shudder beneath him as he continues to lick and suck around your naval. He spots your sternum tattoo; it sat beautifully between your breasts, peaking out above your cleavage and ending at the natural curve of your breasts. He pulls your shirt over your head with one hand, thrusting his fingers in and out of you still with the other. His big brown eyes meet yours, and he licks a stripe all the way up from your naval, in between your breasts and takes your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. A loud moan escapes you, and you can’t help but rock your hips with the movement of his fingers. He removes his fingers, leaning up to kiss you passionately. And he turns you over with one swift motion, getting you on your knees. Your face is smushed against the pillow and you gasp, feeling his tongue lap at your hole, before sucking on your clit. He eats you out from behind, his mouth devoured you like you were a midnight snack, and his fingers glide back into you. You grip the bed sheet under you, groaning loudly as his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking and biting gently. 

“Mmmmm unnnnnghh, Eddie.” You gasp and you hear his moan vibrate against your cunt. 

“Tastes just like how I remember.” He coos against you. “So sweet.” 

You cry out when he finger fucks the life out of you, his delicate fingers hitting that perfect spot and you feel the build up in your lower belly as your orgasm approaches. 

He flicks out his tongue, rolling it around the little nub of nerves and whimpers, feeling you clench around his fingers. “Come on, sweetheart. I know you’ve been waiting for this, cum for me. Mmmm that’s it baby, fuuuck, there you go, come on.”  

The sound of his voice is so hot, it sends you into a fucking whirlwind and you’re cumming hard all over his fingers. He gently kisses your ass cheek, slowly pumping in and out of you as you scream out the rest of your orgasm. Your entire body shaking, convulsing, and you didn’t want it to end. You roll to your back, your chest heaving, and you sit up, pulling his mouth towards yours, pushing your tongue in his mouth, tasting the sweetness of you and he grips your thigh tightly. Your hands unbuckle his jeans and pull them off, of course he was going commando, you thought. You grip his hard cock in your hand and pump your fist down it and he moans against your mouth. His curly hair tickles your chin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck as you pump him faster, slapping the tip of his cock on your clit. He whimpers, his moans echo against your skin and you line him up against your opening. You felt fucking filthy, but you wanted him, craved him. 

He pulls back to look at your face, gently moving your hair out of your face, running his thumb along your lower lip. 

“Are you sure?” He whispers to you, gently moving his lips against yours. You nod, cupping his face in your hand. 

“I wanna feel you.” You whisper to him. “I wanna feel all of you.” 

His eyes dart from your eyes to your mouth, he kisses you softly and you both moan as he pushes himself inside you easily; you were so wet. You hold onto his waist as he leans up on his palms, thrusting himself into you, his eyes flutter close, and he grunts loudly. He grips your thigh painfully, hooking your leg around his waist, moving faster. You cry out, your nails scraping down his back as he rolls his hips, his breath hot against your throat. You feel him tremble above you, and he whimpers. You pull his face towards yours, staring into his eyes as he continues his rhythm. 

“Ugggunngh fuck sweetheart.” He moans, pushing his mouth against yours, kissing you hungrily. Your mouth opens his in a loud moan, that sends him in into a whirlwind and he slams into you harder. 

“Ooohhh…oh…unghhh…Eddie…”

“Scream for me, sweetheart. Unnnnngh, I wanna hear you scream.” His mouth falls open in pleasure, his movements slowing down and you clench around him, holding onto his shoulders for dear life as you orgasm, screaming out his name, your sounds were music to his ears and he holds your waist, riding the orgasm with you when he feels his reach the surface and he’s moaning so loud, you swore you had awoken a beast within him as he cums inside you, a warmth settling in between your legs as he slows his thrusts, swallowing hard as he rests his head against your chest. 

You both lay there catching your breath, not saying a word to each other. He lifts his face up to yours, gently caressing your face, and kissing you sweetly. 

The sun was bright as I open my eyes in a squint. Was that the sun? My eyes adjust and I try to see out the window from where I lay; it has snowed, was still actively snowing and the sun was trying to make its way through the clouds. I feel your warmth next to me and I turn to you, your back is to me, your hair drapes over your back and onto your face. I trace the outline of your arm with my finger, going over the curve of your waist, your hips. I lean forward and kiss your shoulder gently, your neck. You stir, groaning pleasantly as you turn towards me, your eyes still closed, and you bury your face into my chest, your hands were cool against my waist and I shudder, laughing a little. 

“Morning.” I whisper to you, gently moving your hair out of your face. 

“Mmm.” You mumble. “Did you sleep okay?” Your voice is hoarse, and I kiss the top of your head. 

“Like a baby.” I tell you, wrapping my arms around your waist. Last night was the most comfortable I had slept in months, and I didn’t remember my nightmares, which was a first. 

“I can make us breakfast.” You say, opening your eyes, squinting at the bright light. “I need eggs.” 

“Uhh, I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon.” I laugh and you sit up, scooting yourself off the bed. I watch as you go to the window and peak out, laughing to myself at how little you cared that strangers could potentially see your naked body. 

“Holy shit. That’s a lot of snow.” You laugh, turning to me. “I don’t think the plows have come down; I can’t even drive you home.” 

“I’m in no rush to go anywhere.” I tell you sweetly, putting my arm behind my head. You smile at me, blushing when you realize you’re naked and you pull a blanket over your shoulders. I sit up; gently reaching towards you and grip your waist. You lean down and kiss my forehead, enveloping me in the blanket. I kiss the spot above your belly button and look up at you. “I appreciate you having me stay…not that I’m your responsibility but, thank you.”

Your fingers curl through my hair, sighing as you stare at me. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t and something happened. Even being so angry at you, I can’t stomach it.” 

I gently caress your sides, staring deep into your eyes. “I owe you an apology. A big one.” You place your hands gently on my shoulders, waiting for me to continue. “I’ve been fucked up for a long time. Even before the drugs. The drugs were just an escape from how dark I was feeling on the inside. I felt like nothing could make me happy…except you. You were this big bright light in my life, my whole life, and I…” I sigh, my throat aches as I swallow back tears. “I was afraid that if I allowed that happiness into my life, it would be taken away from me like everything else. That you would see who I truly was on the inside and would hate me for it. So, I took the easy way out, I thought I was saving you years of regret and dealing with my bull shit but when in reality, it was like I pulled the trigger of a gun and blew my own head off. Because leaving you was one of the stupidest things I could’ve done. And I promise, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to show you how sorry I am. I never stopped loving you. I have been so close to death this last year more times than I can count, and I think the universe only brought me back because of you. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to continue to teeter on life and death anymore and I never thought those words would come out of me.” 

A tear falls down your cheek, but you smile, and I wipe it away, cupping your face. “I love you. I love you so much it fucking hurts, but I need to let it in. I need to feel it, because if I don’t, I’m just another foot deeper in the grave.” 

You sniffle back tears, gently running your thumb over my lips, my hair. “I love you too. I never stopped either, as much as I wanted to.” 

I kiss the spot between your breasts and meet your eyes. “You can tell me to fuck off, and I’ll leave because I’ll feel better knowing that at least you knew that I did love you and I still love you.” 

Both of your hands grip my face, and you smile, shaking your head. “I will probably still tell you to fuck off, because it’s us and even fifteen years later I’m pretty sure you still know how to get under my skin.” We both laugh. “But I’m never letting you go again. That’s a promise.” 

My hand goes up to touch your face, my other hand grips the spot under your breast, and you lean down, gently pressing your lips to mine. I hold your face, opening your mouth with mine, tasting you. I move my lips to your tummy, gently kissing your skin. You shudder softly and I move my hands to your thighs, my eyes fix on yours as I kiss above your naval. I graze the tips of my fingers along your clit and your head falls back, the blanket falls from your shoulders. I palm you gently and a soft moan escapes you. 

“Not…fair…” you breathe out. “It’s your turn.” You say to me, and you press your lips to mine hungrily. I wrap my arms around your waist and groan when your hand goes to my cock, rubbing it gently. I get hard immediately, and you pull away from me. You give me a smirk and kneel in front of me. I lean back on my palms, watching you. As soon as I feel your mouth touch my tip, my head falls back, and a loud groan escapes me. You move your tongue along my shaft, taking me into your mouth, cupping my balls. 

“Unnnnghhh, fuck. Oh my…unnngn.” I groan out, gripping onto your hair; your moan vibrates my cock and I tremble. I whimper like a fucking dog, it feels so good; I haven’t felt anything like this in so long, it feels almost foreign to me. Your tongue swirls around my tip, and you suck, your mouth coming off my cock with a pop. I groan again, I make myself look at you, and watch as you take my cock so beautifully. You stare up at me with those eyes, those fucking eyes. The ones that see right through me, the ones that see me, the ones that are so filled with desire I try my best not to explode in your mouth. You open your mouth wider, slapping my cock against your tongue, a choked moan escapes me that I can’t even control. A heavy breath escapes me, and my eyes flutter close. I feel my orgasm building in my belly; I feel my abdominal muscles clench as you continue to torment me with your mouth. A smile graces my lips and I gasp. “Ohhh, ohhh fuck…mmmmohhh my god, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum…I…”Something wild growls out of me, and my whole body convulses, and I’m almost yelling. I cum so hard I swear I can see stars; you’re still sucking me off, swallowing me whole. I fall back against the bed, my chest heaving, my vision blurred, and a laugh full of pure joy escapes me. You crawl your way up to my face and I open my eyes slowly to look at you. You’re smiling that beautiful smile, your lips are swollen, your chin is covered in saliva and parts of me. I hold your face in my hand, feeling drunk, feeling fucking high and I kiss you, tasting myself, tasting you as our tongues fight for dominance. I’m getting hard again, and all I want is to be inside you; I want to feel every inch of your walls, I want to squeeze that beautiful ass of yours as you ride me.  It was like you read my mind, because you lower yourself so delicately until I’m fully inside you, feeling every beautiful inch of you. A sweet, soft moan escapes your lungs, and you lean back, staring in my eyes as you roll your hips against my pelvis. I grip your ass, rocking you against me faster, pushing myself into you. Our noises are a collective harmony of beautiful breaths and moans, I watch as your beautiful breasts bounce as you rock me so fast. I take one in my hand, pinching your nipple and groaning, feeling like I was in a fucking porno. I watch you move; how beautiful you look, how I’m pretty sure you were carved out of stardust in the fucking heavens and brought down to Earth; I couldn’t believe you were real. 

Six months ago, I was in a jail cell, bleeding from my nose, my mouth, my hands, detoxing from heroin, after overdosing for the third time, waiting for death because my life was over. And somehow, after all that, I made it back to you. 

Go down, medicine, go down… I don’t even know where I am right now; is it my hotel room? Or someone else’s? There are only a few soft lights coming from the room, I can hear someone else breathing, but I can’t see them. We had just finished the Portland show, but I don’t even remember it ending. I’m sitting on the floor; just staring off into space. I feel clammy, my hair is sticking to me, and my arm is stinging. I move my head to the side. It feels heavier than normal. There’s a rubber tourniquet wrapped tightly around my arm, and the needle is just resting against my forearm. I wince, pulling it out of my skin and undoing the tourniquet. It takes me a few tries to get to my feet, I use the wall as support to lift my body up. I’m still in my clothes, so I didn’t fuck anybody I don’t think. I hear muffled voices coming from outside the door, I think I’m in a bedroom. I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn the flashlight on. There’s a woman on the bed, passed out, she was fully naked, lying next to a glass mirror of white powder. I shine my light to her face; her eyelids squeeze just a little and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that she’s still breathing. I pull the blanket over her shoulders to protect her modesty, so sweet right?? I scoff at myself. Nope, still an asshole.  I open the door to the bedroom and squint from the bright overhead light. No one even notices me walk through, there were tons of people in this one little loft apartment. An eclectic group of people; goths, metalheads, nerds, Abercrombie chicks and dudes, LGBTQ+, junkies, druggies, ravers. 

Where the fuck was I? 

I find an unopened beer and pop the cap off with my teeth, chugging the whole thing, stumbling awkwardly and dropping the empty bottle in the lap of a couple making out on the couch. I’m able to find the door to leave, and I feel blessed when the sudden quiet envelopes me like a blanket. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I answer it without even looking to see who it is.

“Yeah?” I mumble. 

“Dude, where the fuck are you?” It was Jeff.

“Honestly, man. I have no fucking idea.” I wince when I bend my left arm. Damn, I really fucked myself up tonight. 

“Ted’s losing his mind, he thinks you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. What do you want me to tell him?” He sounds a little drunk himself, and I want to roll my eyes, Ted needs to stop worrying. 

“Nothing, I’ll call him.” I say, my head lulling to the wall behind me. Fuck I feel good. I hang up the phone and scroll until I find Ted’s name. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie! You’ve been missing for three fucking hours!” Ted yells into the phone, and I feel a little bad hearing the worry in his voice. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I don’t know, some fucking house party.” I make my way down the stairs to the outside; it was fucking freezing out. I feel snot hit the back of my throat and I force myself to hawk a giant spit ball out of my lungs. I look up and down the street, I’m in some quiet neighborhood. “I’m in Portland somewhere.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” He sighs and I swear I hear his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Send me your location, I’ll come get you.” 

I hang up and text him my location, I sit on the sidewalk. I feel fucked up again; my head lulls between my legs and I gasp awake and find a cigarette in my pocket. I light it up, letting the smoke fill my lungs and I’m nodding out again. A loud honk of the car horn snaps me awake and I squint at the headlights in front of me. 

“Prick.” I mutter, awkwardly getting to my feet as I see Ted’s silhouette come out the driver's seat. He looks pissed, and I can’t help but smile. 

“Get in the car, fucking dickhead.” He says, inhaling deeply on his cigarette. 

“Whoa, daddy’s mad.” I say, stumbling backwards and collect myself, opening his driver side door. I slip into the seat and shut the door. Ted comes in, slams the door and I feel his hand slap me hard on the back of the head. “Ow! Jesus, what the fuck was that for?!” 

“For being a fucking moron.” He speeds away from the sidewalk, and flies down the side street, following directions to the highway. I rub the back of my head, lighting up a cigarette. 

“You didn’t have to pick me up.” I say to him. 

“Of course, I did. Eddie, it’s negative zero outside, you’re high out of your mind. You think I’m gonna leave you stranded?” He says, quietly. 

“You should’ve. Would’ve saved you the grief.” I mutter. 

“Do you want to die, Eddie?” He almost yells at me. “Is that what you want?” 

I stare at the side of his face; his jaw was clenched, and I swear I see tears in his eyes. “No. I don’t want to die.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“I don’t want to die, Ted! I just want to fucking live in peace.” I yell at him, flicking my cigarette out the window. 

“What about us?!” He shouts, turning left and my shoulder hits the door panel. “What about your fucking family who loves you!? Do you think we want to continue watching you kill yourself?”

“So don’t!” I scream back at him. “Leave! Like everyone else in my life! What the fuck is stopping you?!" 

He peels into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn where we were staying and puts the car in park. His hands are gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip. I see tears pour from his eyes and I have to look away from him. I feel a sharp pain in my chest; I need another shot; I need it to get rid of this fucking pain. I pat myself down, looking for a needle, or more drugs, I had to have some, there’s no way I did it all.

“What are you doing?” He asks me.

I begin to panic, digging into my pockets, trying to find something, anything. “I can’t sit in here with you when you’re like this, I can’t look at you and hear your fucking worries and see your tears, I’m gonna fucking lose my mind.” 

I find a needle hidden deep in my jacket pocket, a new one, still capped, and I find the drugs in a baggy next to it. 

“No.” Ted says, grabbing my wrists, pulling the needle out of my hand and my drugs, I try to wrestle with him, but I’m way too fucked up and too weak to try. “You are not shooting up right next to me! Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

I can feel the rage in my veins, my eyes are wide, and I can feel myself trembling. “Give it back to me.” 

“No.” He places everything in his pockets. 

“Teddy, I swear to fucking god I will break your fucking nose, give it back to me!” I yell at him; my fists clenching, my chest heaving. This man was like a fucking father to me, and I was ready to throw hands with him.

He laughs and I wanna scream. “Do you hear yourself?” 

“Shut up.” I cover my ears, closing my eyes. “Shut up, shut up. Just give me the drugs.” 

I hear him flip the visor down, and flip open the mirror. 

His hand grips my chin. “Look at yourself!” He yells at me and I keep my eyes shut, feeling tears pool from my eyes as an angry sob escapes me. His grip gets tighter on my chin and I grit my teeth, my hand digging into his thigh, trying to push him away from me. “LOOK AT YOURSELF!” He yells louder and my eyes snap open, gazing into the mirror. The man staring back at me has a wild stare, his brown eyes held no life in them, he was pale, sweaty, his face was gaunt. He was a beast with no name, a monster hidden beneath the face of an angel. 

I shake my head, closing my eyes again, and groan. “No. No. Let go of me. Let me go!” I’m able to shove him away from me, and I quickly wipe the tears from my face. “I’ll stop man, just give me my drugs.” 

“You’ll stop?” He stares at me incredulous; I know I look pathetic in his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I’ll fucking stop! Just let me do this, please. Please. It’s starting to hurt.” I groan, hot tears still pooling from my eyes. 

“Good.” He sneers at me, getting out of the car, slamming the door shut, walking away from me. I sit in the passenger seat and start punching the dashboard.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” I yell, my legs feeling like jello, my heart pounding. I push myself out of the car and fall to my knees, screaming like a mad man. 

I was a monster. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #Spotify

[piracytheorist]

The fact that of all instruments, Loid chose to see Anya's potential in music through a violin drives me insane. The violin is one of the hardest instruments to learn, and even harder to master a good sound for beginners. Among my co-students we had a joke that went something like "When a child is on their first year on the violin, their entire family suffers" because most first-year violin students (unless they're like, prodigies or something) need about a year to achieve a sound that sounds like music and not like nails on a chalkboard. Even people who eventually become professional violinists are pretty terrible on their first year.

And aside from the difficulty of producing a good sound, there's the thing about the violin (along with the other string instruments of that section, viola, cello and double bass) being a fretless instrument. There are no frets separating the neck in "notes". That means that you only learn where each note is by practice and muscle memory.

In comparison, guitars - also string instruments, but of a different classification since they don't use bows - have frets.

(that doesn't mean that the guitar is a much easier instrument to learn or play. But you can clearly tell where each note is - though you still have to practice a lot before you can confidently play without counting the frets each time)

WHAT I'M SAYING IS, when introducing children of that age into playing music you usually start with percussion instruments to give them the hands-on experience of "I hit this and it makes a sound. I hit it differently and it makes a different sound". If the child wants to pick up a more demanding instrument... at least you need some patience as a caretaker and an instructor. My boi Loid gave up after a few minutes of Anya simply exploring the instrument.

Now, I understand this was done for humorous purposes, Anya did overdramatically break the strings after all, and to show that Twilight was so stressed for time that he forgot that kids need time to learn and develop a skill. He has the same reaction with Anya being normal for her age at drawing and gymnastics, too. Especially with the gymnastics thing - just like he gave her a violin and expected her to play fucking Paganini or whatever, he had her try jumping on a vault, then Yor came and suggested something more appropriate and achievable for a beginner her age, jumping rope.

Still, I'm going to raise my snooty nose and take this as a headcanon that, finally, we were shown something Twilight genuinely doesn't know shit about. He knows to take the family to the opera to make them appear upper-class, but he doesn't know how one learns music. I mean, that's okay. He's perfect in pretty much all other specialties, he can afford being shitty at one.

#Spy x Family #no that's definitely not my insecurities talking #I'm just more EquippedTM at this than Twilight ok #lemme have my satisfaction lmao #like look I can buy him being smart af and very physically skilled #but if he's ever shown being proficient at an instrument out of nowhere I'm going to FUCKING RIOT #end rant

[theatrekidenergy]

WTTT/WTTSH Instrument headcanons!

Massachusetts: Piano, Like just imagine that, also HUGE Shayfer James vibes that I can’t explain?? Idk.

Louisiana: Double Bass because it’s a super tall and has like the most beautiful sound yk, also he would adore playing with the French bow because it has the word France in it.

California: Guitar because we all know California is just that kinda guy that would absolutely write songs and than never show them to anyone.

Texas: Violin but he absolutely calls it a fiddle because in his mind there is no way in hell he’s being called a violinst, it sounds far to northern for his taste.

Austin: Viola, it’s different enough from a violin for him to not feel like he’s similar to Texas but close enough to how it looks where the other states won’t get suspicious

New York: Trombone, he loves the song and also when he gets pissed he just like, pretends to be focused on playing and then purposefully bump anyone he’s actively pissed at.

Alaska: Cello, he plays at night, I can also imagine him having freckles that glows like the northern lights whenever he plays.

Nevada: Flute, he and Alaska like to play songs for all of the dogs in the statehouse like Alaska’s Alaskan Malamutes, Texas’s Labrador retriever, and New York’s yorkie.

New Jersey: Harp, he used to listen to harp music as a kid but eventually he decided he was the one that wanted to play and he’s been in love with the instrument ever since.

Florida: Triangle.

Feel free to send in requests for headcanons or any other instrument headcanons you might want to see! :]

#wttt #wttsh #wttsh california #wttt alaska #wttt florida #wttt massachusetts #wttt texas #wttt new york #wttt austin #wttt louisiana #wttt headcanons #wttsh headcanons #wttt new jersey

[serene-sun]

𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓 🏳️‍⚧️

Pairing: Swiss x trans OC

Warnings: crying, self doubt, coming out, trans topics

Word count: 1k

Summary: tonight’s show in Berlin ends up taking some wheight off of their chest.

A/n: completely inspired by today's pic of Swiss with the trans flag!

“Ha!” Swiss squeaked, throwing his guitar pick into the sea of waving and cheating fans.

I come up behind him, sneaking up to scare him. 

The lights are loud, and everyone seems so happy. I love this, this after-ritual feeling. Its been a great night, no mess-ups and no difficulties.

“Boo!” I pounce onto the ghoul from behind, attaching to his back as he stumbles forward.

“Oh, you scared me!” He breathlessly says

“Haha, sorry, couldn't help it!” I laugh, feeling him smile as I get off him.

“Oh, look we're about to do final bows.” Swiss direct my attention to the other ghouls lining up with Papa.

“Oh yeah,” I say, grabbing his hand and prancing over there with the jolly ghoul.

It has been only a few months since I was summoned, apparently, they needed backup and extra bass. Since the moment they searched for my element mark, and found that my summoning was very difficult, they have always checked in on me daily. I grew very close to Swiss, as he was after all the first ghoul I laid eyes upon. I never got too close to get intimate or physical, I was always fearful they would find things they didn't like. One was that I had in fact, not been born a guy. Another is that I had several scars from the times that I had lived. I assumed they knew, but when they never said anything and went on like I was normal…I couldn't bring myself to let them down. 

They all assumed I was normal.

Some bright colors catch my attention, my eyes latch onto the flag that Swiss was holding.

Swiss tries to take my hand, I stand between him and Phantom.

“Hey, you ok?” Swiss can tell something is off.

“Yeah, yeah, what's that?” I already know that the flag he's holding is that of the trans community, but I double-check, I also don't want to bring it up myself.

“Oh, this? A fan threw it on stage, it's the trans flag, probably because it's pride month ya know?” Swiss finishes, and yet my eyes can't decide if I should look at his pretty eyes shining through the mask or the flag that felt like it hated me. 

After we bow, we all head back to the dressing rooms. A bunch of gasps of relief echoes down the hallway as tails fly out of pants, and strangled hood masks come off of sweaty hair and messed up black-out makeup. 

“Hey, you sure your ok? You were shaking pretty bad, and that wasn't adrenaline shakes haha.” Swiss gives an honest smile, making sure I was ok for the 2nd time that day. 

I comb through my hair with my fingers, the glamour fading as small claws appear. I wince at occasional knots and tangles within the long black curls.

“Yeah… it's nothing.” I try my hardest to give a fake smile, but it fades away as soon as his eyes leave mine.

It's not like I hated the way I was, it's just that I never wanted it to become my personality. So I completely stopped saying it, letting the choice of having pride in it go. It's not like I hated the flag either, it just felt like being so close to it, was making it closer to them figuring out the obvious thing about me.

“Here, come with me.’ Swiss takes my hand again, I now notice how sweaty it is, but I follow him as he guides me down to the dressing room that he shared with Rain, Phantom, and myself.

“You started acting weird when you saw the flag, Are you sure you're ok? Don't lie, I know it was more than nerves.” Swiss pulls me into the room and turns the lights on.

I start to panic, my chest feels tight, my hands feel numb and my face feels hot.

I start to pick at my nails with my other hand, bringing them together at my waist. 

Everything I want to say, I swallow.

“Nothin.” I say Brittle

“If you feel nothing, then why are you shaking?” Swiss asks, low.

His words ring the bells of panic in my head, my ears go down, and my tail stays still between my legs as if I've been injured.

“It’s- hard…to explain.” My voice cracks

Dammit, he definitely knows now

“I feel that you are scared, and I want you to know that there's nothing to worry about.” Swiss rubs my arm assuringly.

For once I hate that he can practically read my mind, that was so connected. Although I feel the warmth and fuzzy yellow glow in him, I'm still too frightened to tell him. 

Maybe it's not fear, maybe it's the acceptance I have to have before I can say it

“It's alright. It's ok if you're not ready.” Swiss sighs, trying to make it seem like it's not bothering him.

“Swiss, promise you won't see me any different?” I ask, a tear falling down my cheeks silently.

The multi-ghoul turns around, wiping away the tear and cupping my face. 

‘Of course not!” He says, his other hand cupping the other cheek just as lovingly.

Is this the part where I die?

“You do realize it's okay if your trans right? You're the same person, it just gives me more knowledge.” Swiss tilts his head

I stay silent, I feel my blood stop moving, my heart stops beating, my brain stutter.

“How?” I know he can finish my question.

“When you were summoned, the only thing you wore was the eternal red flames of hell. When I searched for your element mark, I had to look across your abdomen.” Swiss has a bit of a smile, and he turns away to finish packing his bag.

“You act as if being trans is a bad thing, it doesn't change who you are.” Swiss chuckled, “And it sure as hell doesn't make up your entire personality.” 

I stand there like a complete idiot, “You knew I was trans this entire time?” 

“What? We all did, don't be silly.” A new voice enters the room, it's Rain and Phantom coming to pack their bags for the hotel.

I panic, how much have they heard? Have the others been listening too?

“Come along now! We're about to be kicked out, another band is playing here tonight.” Papa’s voice rings down the hallways, and several tired “okay”s hum together. 

“Come on, don't be upset, nothing to worry about.” Swiss pats my back throws my bag at me, and walks out the door.

I'm still so stunned, I falter to walk behind him.

“Alone or not, you gotta walk forward.” Rain passes by me, I must be walking slowly.

“In the end, it's your presence that matters.” I hear Swiss say, staying in place to catch up.

I feel tears prickle up, so you don't see me differently? So you do still love me?

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #ghost band #serene sun writes #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #the band ghost swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul x reader #nameless ghoul swiss #swiss ghost #ghost the band #the band ghost oc #swiss x transmasc reader #rain x reader #phantom x reader

[jazzandother-blog]

Remebering Paul Chambers on his birthday !!

Paul Chambers in Manhattan on the way to the Whims of Chambers recording session, 21 September, 1956.

Paul Laurence Dunbar Chambers, Jr. (April 22, 1935 – January 4, 1969) was a jazz double bassist.

A fixture of rhythm sections during the 1950s and 1960s, his importance in the development of jazz bass can be measured not only by the length and breadth of his work in this short period but also his impeccable time and intonation, and virtuosic improvisations.

He was also known for his bowed solos.

Chambers recorded some dozen albums as a leader or co-leader, and prolifically as a sideman notably as the anchor of trumpeter Miles Davis's "first great quintet" (1955-63) and with pianist Wynton Kelly (1963-68).

Photo by © Francis Wolff

Source: www.facebook.com/TheWorldOfJazz

*****

Paul Laurence Dunbar Chambers, Jr. (22 de abril de 1935 - 4 de enero de 1969) fue un contrabajista de jazz.

Un fijo de las secciones rítmicas durante las décadas de 1950 y 1960, su importancia en el desarrollo del bajo de jazz puede medirse no sólo por la longitud y amplitud de su obra en este corto periodo, sino también por su impecable compás y entonación, y sus virtuosas improvisaciones.

También era conocido por sus solos de arco.

Chambers grabó una docena de álbumes como líder o colíder, y fue muy prolífico como músico de acompañamiento, sobre todo como ancla del "primer gran quinteto" del trompetista Miles Davis (1955-63) y con el pianista Wynton Kelly (1963-68).Chambers recorded some dozen albums as a leader or co-leader, and prolifically as a sideman notably as the anchor of trumpeter Miles Davis's "first great quintet" (1955-63) and with pianist Wynton Kelly (1963-68).

#jazz #paul chambers #bass #bassist

[gnosk]

There's a similar poll going around but its category breakdowns are bizarre so here's a better one.

#music #band #orchestra

[daily-instruments]

Daily Instrument — Octobass

The octobass is a bowed string instrument from Paris made in 1850. It is a giant version of the double bass with 3 strings (tuned to C0, G0, and D1). The octobass stands at 12 feet tall and has to be played standing on a platform. The player vibrates the string with a bow and frets the strings using a foot pedal.

#music #instrument #instruments #musical instruments #octobass #Youtube

[noodyl-blasstal]

Musicalically

It's @taznovembercelebration day 11 and today I got "musical".

Read below or on Ao3, and find yesterday's prompt here.

-

Owning a music shop was always going to be conducive to weirdos, Kravitz knew that going in. He’d done customer service for years, he knew how to deal with people wanting refunds because their precious angel child who didn’t practise wasn’t Yo-Yo Ma; that “it was delivered like this and I want a replacement” was always going to be the default of people who didn’t remember they picked up at the store; and that kids were always sticky no matter what (how? why?”) and therefore couldn’t be allowed to touch anything valuable. What he doesn't know how to deal with, is Taako.

Taako has been there four times a week every for the last five months: the last hour of every Tuesday evening, Thursday late night opening, Saturday most of the day, and Sunday too. He wasn’t disruptive, per say, well, apart from the fact that Kravitz got distracted a lot when he was around, but that wasn’t necessarily Taako’s fault. He couldn’t be blamed for the way the light hit him when he sat at the piano in the bay window; how he tapped his pencil against his lips when he was thinking; or the way he always looked like he was pouring everything into whatever it was he was playing. Kravitz loved to watch him sway in time as he bowed strings or bop his head as he beat the shit out of the tester drum kit. He was beautiful, good at every instrument he picked up (apart from the incident with the trombone, but Kravitz wasn’t one to criticise a guy for trying something new). It was nice to have a regular too… although, maybe he couldn’t actually be considered a regular if he didn’t buy anything? But he asked Kravitz for paper one time and he was polite about it, which is more than most people, honestly.

Today Taako was noodling on a bass guitar, head tipped down, hair cascading over one shoulder and making Kravitz want to dig his hands into it. He was a vision. Kravitz had long given up asking him if he needed any help, Taako came to him if he wanted to interact, which he has increasingly often lately. Maybe they could be friends? Kravitz buries his head in receipts instead of staring more. It’s back to school season and that means parents deciding that their tiny proteges need a whole range of different instruments and college kids realising they can’t possibly go without an acoustic guitar. Who else will keep everyone entertained at parties? (He’s always a bit guilty when he sells those, but they’d get them somewhere, may as well be from him.) Honestly, Kravitz will help anyone get nearly anything musical, mostly because he likes to see them happy and know they have the instrument they want, but also bills. Bills just keep happening. Gotta keep selling stuff to make sure his dream shop doesn’t evaporate into a memory, a smokey wisp of unfulfillment. Not that things were tight right now, between the agreement to match online prices from reputable websites (Kravitz had a list and he had reasons for the ones that weren’t on it); Magnus helping him with home delivery; and the music lessons he started offering two years ago, things were pretty okay. Reasonable-ish in fact! This job was never going to make him a millionaire, but he didn’t have to worry like he used to.

He’s deep enough in rumination that he doesn’t notice the regular thud of the bass stop, or the footsteps padding across the floor. “Hey handsome, got any of that tea you like with you today?”

Handsome. That had been happening for a few weeks now. Neither of them had addressed it, but Kravitz was sure Taako just enjoyed how flustered Kravitz got every time he used it.

“I have, would you like some?”

“Taako never says no to good tea from a good man, but cha’boy brought you something to go with it.” Taako brandishes a beaten up tin which seemed to have a double horned unicorn shooting a rainbow out of its mouth painted on top of it. Kravitz wondered if he could lease the image… It’d make good stickers and stickers were always good sellers at the till.

Kravitz knows better by now than to reach for the tin, Taako will provide him with whatever it is in the exact way he intends it to be served, then he’ll plate Kravitz up anything spare in the beaten up employee kitchen which he tuts at every time he goes into. It’s not for customers, but Kravitz kind of gave up on telling Taako that. Well, he thought about telling Taako that he couldn’t go in there that one time, but he’s so handsome and acted like he owned the place and apparently Kravitz is really into that? It’s fine. Probably.

“I’ll brew a pot.” Kravitz stands and it’s glorious. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been hunched over the desk in receipt goblin mode for. He stretches his arms as high as he can and groans in satisfied delight as his back pops. It’s gratifying to realise that Taako’s staring intently at the place where his shirt rides up, showing off a strip of his stomach. He’d be embarrassed, but Taako looks positively wolfish.

“Taako’ll come with. Wouldn’t want you to get lonely in there.” He grins easily, as if he’s doing Kravitz a favour. It’s easy to believe that he is.

Taako hops up onto the counter and swings his legs aimlessly as Kravitz empties the kettle and refills it. If he has company then he’s doing things properly - fresh water for a brew.

“Do you always treat tea as a ritual?” Taako asks, leaning forward to watch intently.

“Can you explain?”

“Well there’s all the things to do, the boil and the pot and the special cups… Or are you just making things special for Taako?” Taako’s genuine, then teasing, although embarrassingly close to the truth.

Kravitz tries not to give himself away. “I guess it is something of a ritual. I haven’t thought about it that way before, but there’s something nice about making it the way I was taught - it’s familiar. I do it for special occasions.”

“But you’ve put your own spin on it too?”

“Hmmm. Maybe.” Kravitz watches the bubbles start to form.

“Guessing whoever taught you didn’t have special skull cups?”

“Oh, they’re actually my Mum’s, she got a new set and gave me her old ones.” Kravitz pours the water in slow circles onto the cloth bag of leaves.

Taako nods sagely. “Gothimily.”

Kravitz snorts. “Not my Mam, she’s colours incarnate, she’s just willing to put up with spooky nonsense.”

Taako nods again. “The Adams Family of Ballamory.”

Kravitz groans. “The themes are going to be stuck in my head for days. Why are you doing this to me?”

Taako smiles softly. “Wouldn’t want you to forget about me while I’m not around.” Before Kravitz has time to reassure him that there was no way he could be forgotten, Taako's back to his cheesy smile and moving on. “So which bit’s yours then?”

“I couldn’t forget… I mean… er.” Kravitz isn’t sure if it was a joke or not, maybe he’s not supposed to respond. “The brewing time is my bit. I did some tests one summer when I was bored. I think it was my Mums’ way of keeping me busy for a few hours so I stopped pestering them. They gave me a timer and a special notebook and unleashed me on the tea stash.”

Taako looks positively delighted about this admission. “And you did it? Baby Kravitz, no questions, just tea brewing?”

“It sounded interesting.”

Taako’s looking at Kravitz like he wants to study him, Kravitz wouldn’t object. “And was it interesting?”

“It brought you this tea, didn’t it?”

“That’s not an answer, but I’ll take it. Shall I stir?”

“No!” Kravitz grabs Taako’s hand firmly. “Stirring the pot is stirring up trouble.”

“What if cha’boy likes a bit of trouble?”

“Kravitz very much doesn’t.”

Taako raises an eyebrow. “And what does Kravitz like?”

You thinks Kravitz. “Not being cursed by tea.” Says Kravitz, because he’s a coward.

Taako nods sagely. “Mmmmmmmmmm, fine. Not being cursed is also good. But you know what would be better?”

“What would be better?”

“Giving Taako your number.”

“I’m not sure how that relates?” Is Taako teasing him? Has he picked up on Kravitz’s crush and decided to torture him?

“You don’t have to. It’s optional.” Taako sounds blase, but there’s an edge of insecurity creeping in.

Shit, Kravitz can’t ruin this. “No no no no! I want to! Wait, I’ll be back.” Kravitz heads siwftly for the door, turns sharply to reassure Taako again, “I’ll just be a second.” Kravitz dives out of the kitchen to grab a pen and paper, immediately turns back on his heel again. “Leave the tea alone!” He warns, then finally grabs the writing equipment.

“You know you could have just put it in my phone?” Taako asks, dangling said phone towards Kravitz.

Of course, why wouldn’t he just put the number in Taako’s phone instead of writing it down like some kind of paper shagger? Why did he have to be weird about it? “I can do that.” Kravitz reaches for the phone.

Taako passes it to him and Kravitz tries to nonchalantly, cooly, easy breezily and sexily input his contact details. “Just one thing?”

“Mmmhm.” Taako replies.

“Why do you keep coming in?”

“Is it a problem?”

“No.” Says Kravitz quickly and taps his number into Taako’s phone to illustrate the point.

“Do you need to know?”

“I’d like to.”

Taako tilts his head, looking for something in Kravitz’s face that he hopes he’s providing. “I’m writing a musical.”

“You’re doing what?”

“You heard me. Taako’s writing a musical.” The oppositional aura softens slightly as Taako realises Kravitz isn’t mocking him. “It’s set in space.”

Kravitz wants to know everything. Kravitz wants to help. Maybe he can open later on the days Taako comes in. “Tell me about it?” Kravitz asks as he saves his number and hands the phone back.

Taako snatches it and retreats from the kitchen like a skittish cat. Hopefully to retrieve the tin and not to flee forever and never call.

Kravitz’s phone buzzes. “How about Taako tells you over dinner?”

He’s grinning at his phone like an idiot when Taako catches him unawares again. “Open!” Taako taps his shoulder then gestures to Kravitz’s mouth.

He does, doesn’t even hesitate, and there’s sweetness bursting on his tongue and flaky pastry crackling under his teeth and it’s perfect, just like everything else Taako makes.

Taako presses a cup into his hand. “I waited for the timer, now try them together.”

Kravitz does. It’s wonderful. “Yef.” He says, through a mouthful of pastry.

“Try again, Krav?”

Kravitz chews furiously. “Yes. To dinner. Yes, I’d like that.”

-

I hope you enjoyed! Find the next prompt here.

#TAZ NC #Taz November Celebration #Taakitz #Noody Writes #Taako #Kravitz #taz balance

[belphegor1982]

HEY WAITAMINUTE IS "underture" a reference to the music term "overture"? Mayhaps a Scanlan WIP?!?!

srryok bai now

Yup, kind of! It's the first CR I got an idea for - in March last year, for TLOVM, as I hadn't even watched most of the first campaign yet - and, incidentally, the only one out of five fics (/comics, if you count Scar Tissue) and 2 WIPs that doesn't begin with the letter S :P (not even on purpose, it just happened!)

Okay, so this fic exists because of three reasons:

• "Underture" is a title on the Who's concept album Tommy (and yes, a play on "overture"!) because the titular lad is Going Through It (and being made to taste drugs iirc). I discovered that album around 2002 and love the word.

• One of my favourite fics overall (like, all fandoms) is @plothooksinc's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003) "Underdark", which has Leo and Mikey fall under the city in complete darkness and try to make their way back to their brothers (and the surface), with Mikey as the 1st person narrator. It is hilarious and super tense and glorious and one of the great classics in the entire franchise's fandom, imo (or should be). Since I read it in the mid-to-late 2000s I had no idea that "Underdark" was actually a D&D term and was gobsmacked when I learned! The more you know :D

• And the main reason this WIP exists is because I essentially went "wait, what if "Underdark", but make it Vax and Scanlan". Of course, now it took a life of its own and there's going to be a Structure to it (start in media res, and then alternate "how we got there" chapters and "so what's happening in the creepy dark in the present" chapters). With a healthy dose of getting to know each other and going from essentially work colleagues to friends 💜

Here's a little excerpt from page 2, so literally the start of the fic (for context, Vax got washed down a mine and wakes up alone in a tunnel):

And, somewhere in the distance, a familiar voice.

“…help?”

Vax scrambled up, finding purchase on the slippery rock wall nearby, chasing sound rather than sight. The world in front of him was little more than blobs in varying shades of black. His ears were more reliable than his eyes right now.

“Where are you?” he called. “Are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’?”

Vax bit back a tart comment. Damn Scanlan and his utter and complete inability to be serious.

“Like, not hurt? Can you move? What’s your position?”

“Not… great.”

“What do you mean?” Vax asked sharply, still half-feeling his way along the wall. Scanlan’s voice was getting clearer, or at least closer; it also sounded breathless, strained, small in a way it rarely did. Vax could only hope most of that could be chalked up to the sore throat he’d been complaining about for the last couple of days.

There was a scrabble and a gasp. When Scanlan spoke again his pitch had climbed a few notes.

“I mean I’m kinda hanging off a cliff? Or some kind of ledge, anyway. And uh, my fingers are getting real tired, if you know what I mean.” A short, nervous laugh. “I really really don’t want to lose fingernails. It hurts like a mother and it makes playing the lute really difficult.”

“Hang on and keep talking,” said Vax, straining his ears and trying to ignore his pounding heart. “I’m on my way.”

“Okay. Usually, not really a problem, but uh… Aw, crap.” There was a strangled sound, like he’d choked up on a cough, and some more scratching. “You know me, I talk – I talk real good. B—big fan of talking. I’m a great talker, too. Talker, singer, player – give me any instrument and it is on, baby. I mean I’ve never tried the double bass, you know, those big-ass cellos. Got curious but the bow alone is almost bigger than me, so that sucks. Plus they’re really expensive. Vax?”

“Yes?”

“Hurry?”

Vax practically ran around a corner and stared into the dark as hard as he could. The tunnel in front of him kept going in a downward slope, the ceiling gradually getting lower; there was a pathway of sorts along the wall, but most of the rocky ground seemed to disappear, as though erased from existence, into the starkest black Vax had ever seen. Rivulets of water trickled into it from the walls and the ground, slithering between protruding rocks, the only movement he could discern.

Wait… Not quite the only movement.

Vax bolted towards the fingers he could see grasping at a small rocky ridge a foot or so below the edge.

“Shitshitshitshit,” he could hear Scanlan chanting, his breathing now frantic and his voice gone beyond squeaky. “Vax…!”

Three things happened almost instantaneously:

Vax reached down and grabbed one of Scanlan’s arms just as his fingers lost their grip on the ledge.

In a last-ditch attempt to find a hold of something, Scanlan’s other hand shot up and closed around the clasp of Vax’s cloak.

Vax belatedly realised he’d miscalculated as Scanlan’s weight and his own momentum carried him past the edge and into the black.

(welp, they're dead :P no they're not but they certainly think so for a hot second)

#sometimes I write #critical role #vox machina #vax'ildan #scanlan shorthalt

[katareyoudrilling]

All About the Bass (Marcus Pike one-shot)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Summary: What if Marcus played the double bass (not electric) and joined a community orchestra?

Word count: 5.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Fluff, smut, PIV, oral (f receiving)

A/N: This is self-indulgent AF, so thank you in advance for coming along for the ride!  A special thanks to @deadhumourist​, @yespolkadotkitty​, and @just-here-for-the-moment​ for your encouragement.  I will link to the pieces mentioned at the end.  Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Masterlist

You’re always one of the first to arrive to rehearsal.  The thought of rushing in last minute makes your skin crawl.  You like to take your time.

Maybe you take it too seriously.  It is a community orchestra after all, not a professional one.  But somehow you think that makes this time more sacred.  This is what you do because you love it, because it calms your mind and feeds your soul.

Music is like meditation for you.  You can’t think of anything else while you play, or you’ll lose your place.  For these hours, the outside world ceases to exist, and your only job is to interpret what’s on the page.

You set down your case in the usual place and open it up.  You slide your violin out of her silk bag – sure it’s a little fussy, but your Italian lady deserves some pampering – and attach your shoulder rest.  Setting her back down, you draw out your bow.  You twist the screw until the space hair is taut and the wood is gently curved. You unwrap your rosin and pull the bow across the little orange disc three times – no more, no less.

You make your way up on stage to find your place.

You’re not a religious person.  Not anymore.  But being in a beautiful church sanctuary still feels holy.  The sound of instruments being tuned bounces off the vaulted ceiling while rays of mid-morning spring sun light up the stained-glass windows.  You know a streak of blue will cross your music stand mid-rehearsal.

It’s Saturday morning and the first rehearsal for this program, there will only be three, with the concert a week from tomorrow.  This is an extra concert thrown in the usual season for a smaller ensemble.  Your music waits for you in the folder on your stand.  Your fingers itch to take a look, but first you tuck your violin under your chin and put bow to string.

Hello, beautiful.

Your eyes close as the first note vibrates into your body.  You can’t help but imagine all the musicians that have made her sing over her 100 years.  Her tone is warm and rich, espresso and red wine.  You knew the moment you played her that she was yours.

You check your double stops and adjust your pegs until the notes harmonize just right.  The sound reverberates through the room and you let it ring.  You take a full breath deep into your lungs and let the trials of the week float away with your exhale.

You run some scales and play a few favorite passages from memory, waking up your fingers, getting ready for whatever awaits in your folder.

You set your instrument down on the empty seat next you – your stand partner always rushes in at the last minute, but you love her anyway – and open the folder.

Bach.

Blech.

It may be an unpopular opinion, but Bach is so boring.  You remind yourself that you’ve almost always been able to find something redeeming in the Bach pieces you’ve played.  Your conductor manages to find the nuance and make it a little interesting.  You set it to the side.

Arvo Pärt – Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten

Yes.  Now we’re talking.

You’ve never met a Pärt piece you haven’t fallen in love with.  The modern Estonian composer wrote such haunting music.  The notes don’t look like much on the page, but you know the beauty of the piece will be blending your sound with everyone around you.

The third and final piece in your folder is also Pärt – Tabula Rasa.  Your annoyance at the Bach fades.

You pick up your violin and begin working through the tricky spots taking note of key signatures and bowings.

You are jolted from your practice by the low drone of a bass behind you.  You still haven’t gotten used to this new set up where you sit to the right of the conductor, across from the first violins and next to the cellos, with the bass just behind your right shoulder.

You turn to say hi to the bassist, Dan, the sweetest old man you’ve ever met, but find yourself looking at a much younger man instead.  An extremely handsome man at that.

He’s dressed in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt.  The shirt pulls tight across his broad shoulders and around his muscular arms.  He is focused on tuning, twisting the pegs with strong fingers, brow furrowed in concentration.  He pulls his bow across the string in confident strokes.

He wraps his hand around the neck of the bass and your mouth goes dry.  It looks small in his grip.  As he settles on the correct pitches, his face relaxes and his eyes flutter closed.  What a face.  Chiseled jaw.  Pouty lips.  The most interesting and gorgeous nose you’ve ever seen on a person.  A lock of his chestnut hair falls across his forehead.

Suddenly, he opens his eyes and his gaze locks with yours.  He breaks into a friendly smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re not Dan,” you blurt out. “I mean hi.”  Oh my God that did not just happen.

He laughs and his brown eyes twinkle.  “No, I’m not.  I’m Marcus.  I’m new.  I think Dan is on vacation.”

“Right, of course, sorry.” You introduce yourself, instruments and bows making it awkward to get up and shake his hand.  You offer a head nod.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Just then, your stand partner, Sarah, plops down beside you in a swirl of blonde hair and chaotic energy.  You turn away from Marcus to greet her.  She does a quick tune of her instrument and lets out a big sigh as she turns to face you.

“What a day!” she starts in with a flourish.

“It’s only 10 am,” you tease.

“Tyler refused to take a nap yesterday so had a complete meltdown over dinner and went to bed at 6.  He was up at 5 am.  Steven was supposed to take Trenton to his soccer game, but got called into work for an emergency.  I had to arrange for a ride for him and I barely made it in time.  Anyway, how are you?  How was your week?”

Sarah is always a flurry of activity.  Her family keeps her on her toes, but she prioritizes her time in the orchestra.  She is incredibly talented and funny and has become a good friend over the years.  You spend the next few minutes catching up before your conductor, Anton, calls for rehearsal to begin.

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

Marcus was going to have to buy his therapist flowers.

When he moved to DC six months ago, he decided it was time to get some professional help.  He was spiraling after his break-up with Teresa.  Dr. M helped him see that his impulsive romantic nature wasn’t necessarily a problem, but he needed to work on communicating with his partner.

He wasn’t a lost cause, doomed to fall in love and get his heart broken over and over.  Teresa just wasn’t the right person and he pushed her too fast, disregarding all the signs that she wasn’t on the same page he was.  

Dr. M suggested he broaden his horizons.  Pick up a new hobby or an old one.  Meet some people who weren’t co-workers.

His first thought had been painting, but that was a solitary pursuit and still somewhat related to his job in the Art Crimes division of the FBI.  Next, he considered bowling, but the last time he did that it tweaked an old back injury and he was in pain for days.

Then it came to him… music.  His old double bass was still stored away in his parent’s basement.  He had played all through middle and high school and for a year in college until his schedule just got too busy.  He had always been pretty good and enjoyed it.  An internet search led him to a community orchestra that rehearsed once a week only a couple miles from his apartment.

He brought his bass home with him after the holidays and contacted the orchestra’s manager.  He was a little rusty, but she assured him that the group was open to all abilities, and he would be just fine.  Besides, they were always in need of bassists.

He had come here today with no expectation other than to remember what it was like to make music with other people, but then he saw you.

He noticed you deep in concentration when he walked in.  He watched you while he got his instrument ready, admiring the graceful curve of your neck and shoulder.

Then he caught you looking at him.  The way your eyes widened, and your mouth popped open when you got flustered sent an arrow straight to his heart.  You had beautiful eyes.

The rehearsal required intense focus, so he forced himself to concentrate on the music and not on the way your body moved with each phrase.

He felt the urge to chase after you after rehearsal, but he settled for a friendly nod and wave on the way out the door.  There was always tomorrow.

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

You manage to concentrate through Sunday afternoon rehearsal and ignore the tingles going up and down your spine.  It’s just your imagination, not his eyes on you, you tell yourself.  You’re just curious about him, that’s all.  He’s new and he seemed so warm and friendly when you talked and as he waved at you on his way out of rehearsal yesterday.

You surreptitiously steel glances at him when you can.  A glimpse of his trim waist.  A flash of his strong hands.  He catches you once and smiles that same warm, friendly smile.  Then he winks.

You turn back around with a start and heat floods your face.  What was that? Who winks at people?

Sarah narrows her eyes at you questioningly a few times.  It’s not like you to be so distracted and jumpy.

Rehearsal wraps up on time.  Sarah leaves in a rush of apologies and promises to catch up more this week.  You take a deep breath and make your way over to Marcus.

“Nice job with the solo in Tabula Rasa,” you start.

He chuckles and rubs and back of his neck with one hand, “Thanks.  They really threw me in the deep end with that one.”

“You did well.  Really.”

He nods and smiles warmly at you again, then leans closer, beckoning you towards him.  You step closer and swallow thickly at this new proximity.  You focus on breathing evenly, but it only drags his clean, crisp scent into your lungs.  Oh God, of course he smells good too.

“I have to ask,” his voice is low and rumbly and causes your heart to pound erratically in your chest, “what’s the deal with all the Estonian music?”

You chuckle, breaking the tension, relief tinged with disappointment floods your body.  “Anton is a first-generation Estonian immigrant,” you explain.  “He considers it his mission to raise awareness of Estonian music.  We play a lot of it.  It grows on you.”

Marcus bobs his head in understanding looking at the music on his stand.  “I had never heard any of this before.  There’s something so simple and organized about it… but then all the parts layered together…” he shakes his head to clear his thoughts and chuckles.  “I think I could get obsessed with it.”

“You and me both,” you laugh.

“Hey, umm, would you like to grab some dinner?” he asks with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

Which is how you find yourself in a quaint and cozy pub in Old Town an hour later watching a drop of condensation slide down Marcus’s pint glass, trying very hard not to imagine it sliding down his gorgeous throat instead.

“How long have you been with the orchestra?” Marcus asks, leaning across the small wooden table between you.  You look up at him and force yourself to look him in the eyes instead of staring at his plush lips.  Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, his soft brown eyes are just as distracting.

“Eight years.”

“Wow, you must really like it.”

“I do.  I didn’t play for a long time and didn’t realize how much I needed it until I started.  What about you? Why did you join?”

“Oh, well, it has been a long time since I last played too.  I moved here for work last fall and decided I needed to try some new things. Or old things in this case, I guess.”

You both lean back in your chairs as the server deposits your plates in front of you – a burger and fries for him and fish tacos for you.  

“I’m glad you decided to give it a try.  What work do you do?”

“I’m with the bureau.”

“Got it, no questions about work,” you laugh and he chuckles along with you.

“It’s nice living here… everyone gets it with one word – bureau.  I don’t have to constantly explain why I can’t talk about my job.  What do you do?”

“Nothing as exciting as all that.  I’m an accountant with a non-profit.  Numbers all day, but in support of a good cause.  I like it.”

Conversation lags for a few minutes while you both dig into your food.  Rehearsal builds up quite the appetite.

“What other new or old things have you been trying?” you ask.

“Not many yet, but I was thinking that I would like to see the cherry blossoms.  Would you want to go with me next weekend after rehearsal?” he holds your gaze across the table.

“You really are new here, aren’t you?” you laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“Next weekend is the peak weekend.  It’s going to be insane downtown.”

“Oh, I see, never mind then,” his face falls, though he tries to hide it.

“Oh no, you don’t.  Don’t go all sad puppy on me,” you chide him teasingly.

“Sad puppy?” he asks, looking exactly like a sad puppy.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.  I bet you can get anything you want with that look.  Yes, I’ll go see the cherry blossoms with you.”

His face breaks out into a sunshiny smile and you bask in its warmth.

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

Marcus passed his week in the usual way, but with the lovely addition of exchanging texts with you.  Mostly you discussed plans for seeing the cherry blossoms on Saturday, but you also checked in with each other a few times just to talk about your day, minus work of course.  He discovered that you live practically around the corner from him.  It’s kind of crazy you haven’t run into each other before now.

Saturday dawns sunny and warm.  Marcus’s morning jog is less of a slog than usual.  There is a bounce in his step that hasn’t been there in a while.

He mentioned you to his therapist at his appointment on Thursday.  She was happy and supportive, but reminded him of the things they had been working through over the past several months.

He is determined to not get carried away with himself this time.  But he can’t help the wide grin that spreads over his face when he walks into rehearsal and sees you.

You smile and wave at him from you place on the stage.  But by the time he gets himself settled in his place, it’s time for rehearsal to begin.

“Thank you everyone for being here today.” Anton addresses the group and everyone quiets.  “Our concert is at 7 tomorrow.”

“What!?” exclaims one of the cellists and everyone laughs good naturedly.  Marcus has a feeling he says that every time.

Anton continues with a smile, “Concert order is the Bach Prelude, Cantos, then Tabula Rasa.  Please welcome our soloists.” The orchestra stomps their feet and tap their bows as the two featured violinists and the pianist take their places.  

“Let’s begin.”

Rehearsal today is primarily focused on Tabula Rasa since it is the first time playing with the soloists.  What was empty and seemingly random is now full and beautiful.  The math of the piece comes into focus as bursts of sound alternate with periods of silence.  It’s mesmerizing.

Marcus secretly hoped that the addition of the soloists would make his solo at the end of the piece less exposed, but he was not so lucky.  Section by section, the musicians lower their instruments until it is just him.  It’s a good thing he practiced.

Joining the orchestra unlocked a part of Marcus’s brain that had lain dormant for a long time.  Art had become his job which made it more difficult to enjoy in a purely creative way.  There were no expectations placed upon this group.  Even the audience was secondary.

The orchestra exists for the members and Marcus found himself drawn into this community of people who love to play so much that they would give up their time to be here together.  They push themselves to be better, not for external validation, but for themselves.  It was a refreshing change of pace.

“Excellent, excellent,” Anton congratulates the group as they finish their final run through.  “Remember, the piece ends with six empty measures.  I will conduct them then lower my baton.  Hopefully the audience stays quiet until I do.”  Anton smiles and the group chuckles along with him.  “That’s it for today.  Thank you everyone.”  He turns to shake hands with the concert master and soloists as everyone begins to pack their things.

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

You and Marcus emerge from the Smithsonian Metro Station in the middle of the National Mall.  It’s just as packed as you predicted.  The two of you wind your way around tour groups as you make your way down the path towards the Washington Monument and over to the Tidal Basin.

Marcus occasionally puts his hand on your lower back as you make your way through the crowds.  His tall, broad frame easily cuts through the swarms of people and he can put on a stern, intimidating expression when he wants that has people edging out of his way.  It turns out that it’s nice to have an FBI agent around.

As you turn onto the walkway around the Tidal Basin, a sea of white and pink unfurls before you.  It really is breathtaking.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the view and you take in him.  He has such a joyful smile.  You find yourself thinking you would do pretty much anything to get to see it.

He slips his hand in yours as you begin to walk along the edge of the water.  It feels completely natural for your hand to be in his.  Occasionally, he brushes his thumb over your knuckles and smiles down at you with his twinkly brown eyes.

You walk slowly around the basin chatting about everything and nothing, bumping shoulders, and making each other laugh.

As you approach the Jefferson Memorial, you both hear it… a low rumble of thunder in the distance.  Almost immediately, the sky opens and begins dumping buckets of rain.  Marcus tugs you towards the cover of the memorial.

Only a minute in the rain has you both completely drenched and giggling.  People swarm into the memorial to get out of the weather and Marcus pulls you over to the end of the colonnade, away from the crowd.  He tucks you against a column and angles his body between yours and the gathering crowd.

Your side presses up against him, your softness melting against his firm body.  You look up at his chiseled profile.  He is looking out over your head towards the swirl of petals and rain.  He has raindrops in his eyelashes and on the tips of his hair.  A solitary drop runs down the arc of his nose and onto his cheek.

Before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, you lift your hand and trace its path over his jaw and down his neck.  

He startles and looks down at you.

“Kiss me, Marcus.”

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

Your breathy request catches him off-guard.  Almost as much as the feel of your fingertip tracing down his neck.

He pulled you close to him to protect you from the crowd not thinking about how your curves would feel against his side.  He couldn’t look down at you for fear that he would get lost in your eyes and forget himself, so he stared out into the distance trying to calm his racing heart.

But then you asked him to kiss you.  Now he knows he’s not alone in this.

Marcus wipes the raindrops off your cheek with the pad of his thumb as he cups the back of your neck in his hand.  Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh.

He needs to taste that sigh.

What he really wants to do to you he can’t do in public, so he contents himself with exploring your lips, your tongue, your mouth.  Languid strokes and licks that only increase his desire for you.

Each of your soft moans tests his self-control.

Each nip of your teeth sends a rush of blood his hardening cock.  The slight shift of your body against him says that you’ve noticed and you’re not mad about it.

It would be so easy to forget where he is.  To get lost in the thrum of the rain and the taste of your lips.  He fights the urge to lick down your throat and palm your ass.

When the temptation gets to be almost too much, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

“That was unexpected,” he exhales.

“Was it though?” you respond with a raised eyebrow.

Marcus smiles and traces the shell of your ear with his fingertip.  He watches goosebumps rise along your neck.  “I’ve misread things before.  I didn’t want to assume we were on the same page.  You should know, I’m not good at casual.”

“I’m not looking for casual.”

Marcus searches your face for any sign of doubt but all he finds is your clear, earnest gaze and kiss swollen lips.  Lips he would very much like to kiss again.

“I’d like not being casual with you,” he admits, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips.

“I’d like that too,” you murmur against him.

He turns you around and pulls you into his broad chest, wrapping his arm around your waist.  You sink into him and allow your head to rest against his shoulder.  He hasn’t felt this content in a long time.  The two of you watch as the storm retreats into the distance.

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

No one moves in the sanctuary.  You sit with your head bowed, barely breathing, as Marcus plays the final notes of Tabula Rasa.

Anton lowers his baton and the audience bursts into applause.  You take a deep breath and smile as you stand with your fellow musicians.  You look back at Marcus and smile at the look of relief and pride on his face.

The concert couldn’t have gone better.  The combination of pieces, even the Bach you reluctantly concede, created a still and trance-like atmosphere in the sanctuary.

But all that stillness means that pent up energy now thrums through your body.  Playing something so controlled and quiet didn’t allow you to release the emotions of the piece through your body.  There’s also the post-performance adrenaline rush that follows every concert making you jittery.

You make your way over to Marcus after putting away your instrument.

“Hey”

“Hey” he replies.

“How do you feel? First performance in a long time?”

He smiles and runs his hand through his hair.  Your eyes are immediately drawn to the tendons in his forearm.  He has rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt since the concert ended.

“It feels good.  I wanted to do something different, and this was definitely it.”

“I’m glad. Will you play with us again?”

“I’d like to,” he smiles.  “If Dan doesn’t mind.”

“He will be so glad, trust me,” you assure him.

“Would you like to get a drink or something? I’m feeling kind of pent up.” He shakes his arms and hands out trying to release the energy.

“I know what you mean.  How about my place?”

“Yeah?” he asks, his expression full of hope.

“Yeah,” you reply with a wink.  He’s not the only one who can do that.

His eyes open wide in surprise before he laughs and takes your hand.  “Let’s go.”

You unlock the door to your apartment and survey the scene.  Thankfully you had tidied up earlier in the day. Marcus would be here any minute, just having to drop off his bass around the corner.

Sure enough, you hear him knock just a few minutes later.  He hasn’t even changed out of his concert clothes.  His hands fist and relax at his sides with nervous energy.

“Come on in.  What can I get you to drink?” you ask as you lead him towards your tiny kitchen.

“Thanks, whatever you’re having is fine with me.”

“My post-concert routine is usually red wine, pajamas, and loud television to drown out the music in my head.  Otherwise, I’ll be singing it all night long.”

Marcus chuckles.  He accepts your offered glass of wine and follows you to the couch.

“Of course, that’s not my preferred way to get rid of post-concert adrenaline.”  You look at him over the rim of your glass.

“It’s not?” Marcus asks feigning wide-eyed innocence.

“Nope.”

“What is then?”  His voice is so deep and delicious.  It resonates through your body.  He scoots closer to you and sets his glass down on the end table then rests his hand on your knee.

“I think you know.”

“I think I know too, but I want you to say it.”

You set your glass down and scoot even closer.  You run your hands up his forearms, over his broad shoulders, and bring them to rest on his chest.  You can feel his heart beating beneath your palms.  He’s so good, so in control of himself, you want to see him let go.

“Marcus, I want you to kiss me.  I want you to fuck me.  I want you to make me forget my own name.”

Marcus inhales sharply at your direct words and then his lips are on yours as he presses you back into the couch cushions.  He slots himself between your legs as his hands run up your sides and his tongue plunders your mouth.  His warmth and scent envelope you as he presses you into the cushions and you moan contentedly into his mouth.

Your first kiss was in public and you both had to control yourselves, but now you can fully give into the heat building between your bodies.

You pull his dress shirt out of his pants seeking his smooth skin.  He pulls away to help undo the buttons and take it off.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper in awed reverence at the sight of his muscular chest above you.

“Sweetheart, you’re the beautiful one,” he rasps as he lowers himself back to you and kisses down your neck.  His hands grip your ass through your pants.  “Can I take you to the bedroom?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan against him.

Marcus helps you up from the couch and pulls you into a messy kiss before allowing you to lead him down the hall.  Once in the bedroom, you are a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing before you fall onto the bed together.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he growls against your skin as he kisses and licks his way down your body.  He brushes your nipples with his thumbs before sucking one into his mouth.

You tangle your hands in his hair and arch your back against him.  He finds your center with his fingers and swipes through your wet folds making you gasp.

“You’re so sensitive,” he says looking up at you with lust-blown pupils as he circles your clit with his thumb and you writhe against him.

“Please, Marcus, please, I want to feel you.”

“Mmmm, you will, but I’m gonna taste you first.”

He continues circling your clit as he shifts down your body.  Nipping and kissing at your stomach, the crease of your hip, your inner thigh, until his mouth takes over from his hand with a firm confident stroke of his tongue.

Your hips lift off the mattress as you gasp and he wraps his arm around your waist to hold you down.  Then he meticulously takes you apart.

It makes sense really, that he would be good at this.  You watched him play his bass, each bow stroke a balance between strength and finesse, his strong fingers moving easily over the strings.

Now he plays your body like an instrument.  All the pent-up energy from the day coalesces in your center.  Weight settles heavy and low in your abdomen and you begin to tremble.  He slides one thick finger into you and the last of your control snaps.

Your climax crests over you in waves.  Marcus continues to stroke you with his tongue in time with each pulse of your walls, drawing out your orgasm, moaning his enjoyment.

When you finally fall still, you hear Marcus open a condom wrapper before he gently kisses back up your body.

You open your eyes to find him nose to nose with you.  His delicious weight pressing you down.  He laces his fingers with yours and draws your joint hands over your head, pinning them to the mattress.

“You ready to feel me, sweetheart?”  His rough voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Achingly slowly he glides into you.  Stretching you open inch by glorious inch.  Your eyes roll back in your head in ecstasy.

“Open your eyes,” he pleads gruffly as he seats himself fully in you.

You do as your told.  The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming.  Marcus wears his desire on his face.  Emotions too strong to name flicker across his gorgeous features.

Slowly he pulls out and thrusts back in.  You moan and hold his gaze, allowing your own feelings to move freely across your face.

You find a rhythm together as you meet each of his thrusts, heat and friction building between your bodies.  You feel your orgasm building again with each deep stroke of his cock.  He drags against your walls and grinds his hips into your clit.  He surrounds you with his presence.  You couldn’t look away if you wanted to.

“You feel so good,” he pants, “I can’t… I’m gonna come.”

The desperation in his voice pushes you over the edge and you quake against him as you cry out his name.  You feel him stutter against your hips as he buries his face in your neck.

He releases your hands and you run your fingers lazily through his hair and down his back as his breathing slows, content in the warm press of his body against yours.  He rolls off and pulls you into his chest, kissing your forehead.

“So, what’s your name?” Marcus mumbles into your hair.

“What?” you pop up on your elbow in surprise.

“You wanted me to make you forget it.  Did I?”  He breaks into a mischievous grin.

You swat at him and snuggle back into his chest.  His strong arms wrap around you.  “Almost, but I’m going to need you to try again.”

“Is that right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him.

“Ok.”

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

A/N: Here are links to the pieces mentioned:

Prelude in B minor by J.S. Bach

Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten by Arvo Pärt

Tabula Rasa by Arvo Pärt

Masterlist

Taglist:

@neddrollsdice​ @lovesbiggerthanpride​ @kirsteng42​ @pedrohoe04​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @pagannightwitch​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @alexxavicry​ @mandoblowmybackout​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @nothoughtsjustmeds​ @loonymagizoologist​ @aynsleywalker​ @maievdenoir​ @ruhro7​ @amneris21​ @tionmeh​ @theravenreads​ @bravopeach​ @bport76​ @mandobi​ @eppy816​ @harriedandharassed​ @littlemisspascal​ @whataperfectwasteoftime​ @just-here-for-the-moment​ @thirsty-flygirl​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @deadhumourist​ @wheresarizona​

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[vienecash300]

Album: The State vs DeMerea Pasquale

Artist: Squalee 2x

Release Date: 13 February 2024

This publication has waited patiently for a complete project from the enigmatic Squalee 2x. By my count 3 years of teases and leaks and snippets have served to wet the appetite of the local listener. We hear him rap we hear him sing. What will the album be like? In a word. Surprising. A single conversation with DeMerea Pasquale will reveal that he is deeper than his often goofy internet persona. Struggles with substance abuse, family issues and relationship problems are worn on the sleeve of this artist like a badge of honor. “The State” is heavily reflective of these facts. The beats mostly guitar driven mostly lack driving bass with notable exceptions. on “The Second Crash Always Hurts Worse” a simple acoustic guitar moves the beat and a feature from local artist C Klip brings us into the heavily autotuned vocals of Squalee who’s crooning is made not only bearable but rhythmic and pleasant by the effects used in production.

Sticking to the guitar-driven but this time complimenting with snare Squalee gives us “Love Sick in Springfield” a break up song that runs almost systematically through the stages of emotion associated with relationship cessation. The hook is an earworm that finds Squalee alternating keys to a remarkably listenable song.

“Letter to my Granny” has Squalee sing-rapping with slightly less vocal effect applied. A heartfelt ballad /tell all “Letter” is an outstanding example of doublet flow that reminds me of Scarface…if he used autotune.

Squalee kicks what sounds remarkbly like a YFN Lucci song on “Perky Dreaming” This song comes very close to being a traditional rap song entirely excluding Squalee’s wailing drone instead opting for a rapped hook and verses.

Springfield heavyweight Junior Pasare lends his vocals to “Menace to Society” a snare-and-bass track. He releases a rapid-fire Rod Wave style verse that gives the song a back bone while Squalee provides the lifeblood.

“Perky Eyes” is on the surface a Lil Peep inspired drug ballad. In true Squalee fashion the song is deeper than that acting as a cautionary tale to anyone listening. The drugs in this song are not glorified they are a side note as Squalee states repeatedly “I don’t really do drugs anymore”.

SKYLARPENDERGAST features on “Broken Promises” Skylar has appeared in this publication before. His unique voice of reminiscent of 21 Pilots , pleasing to the ear and radio ready.

Finally Squalee enlists the help of Big Homie Hom one of this productions favorite artists. On “Water remix” Squalee comes out kicking dope ass ad-lib laden triplets. Hom steps on the track like a dead Newport his distinctive voice marinating the track for the producer to cook it to perfection. “Dior Cypher” rounds the project out with 4 quick rap-and-go verses over a trap style beat. C Klip, Montana 2x EgoDeath and Prince Cash each deliver nasty verses one after another leaving the listener no time to breathe between them.

Ok Squalee, so waiting 3 years was worth it. This album is firstly a full-length LPwhich in and of itself is a miracle in 2024. The album is easy to play all the way through notably because it’s like listening to three different projects. The spirit of Lil Peep floats over the first few tracks like a hip hop specter. RIP PEEP THO 💯. The next few songs are a trip into a late 90s early 00s mind trip with flows directly out of that time and beats quite similar. Finally the last couple songs inflect a newer dare-I-say trappier vibe with songs that would be right in place alongside 21 Savage or Lil Yachty.

This is a helluva project. The raw emotion of the first few tracks bleeds enough anguish for a Double album. The last track being a cypher is a great way to switch up and avoid monotonous droning. Squalee, take a bow. This shit Smacks. 💯💯💯

CKlip

Jr Pasare.