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mutenized · 1 year

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Red String of Fate

Modern Rockstar Eddie Munson x afab photographer reader!

Not gonna lie to you guys, I was reading this fic (it’s 18+) and got inspiration based off of chapter 6……then I got carried away so I don’t even think I have a word count on this bitch. It’s currently 4 am and as I’m writing this part I’m not even done… so word count? LONG lmao! Thank you dolly for hyping me up

Enjoy!

Tags: fluff fluff fluff! Mutual pining, opposites attract

Also here’s a playlist for this fic! Listen if you’d like, a lot of sad girl pop mixed with pop punk! The series is named after Red String by Sweet Pill!

Fingers danced across your waist as you delve your toes into the soft sand that had cooled drastically due to the rise of the moon and fall of the sun pass the watery horizon. Peace. You were at peace. Any and all wars that currently played within your head, whether you knew it or not, ceased due to the absolute heaven you seemingly ascended to.

Eddie’s arms pulled you from your contemplative state, reminding you of the happiness, the thrill, you were living in. A vacation, together. That was something you never dreamed of happening when you two first met months ago. Yet, the tale of time and chemistry between two people proved to both you and the frizzy haired rockstar that anything could happen.

Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was on a small tour through dive bars and smaller venues throughout the east coast. You had been excited for the Philadelphia date because they were the main band at the small, two-story bar, Johnny Brenda’s, that sat on the corner between the Olde Kensington, Northern Liberties, and Fishtown districts. Bringing along your film camera as well as your digital one as well, you opened your case for the security detail before clambering the tiny stairwell to where the stage was set above the pool tables and larger bar and kitchen that rested at street level. Greeting your friends whom you came to support, you looked to the small table next to theirs where merchandise for the two other openers sat. “Corroded Coffin is a dope ass name!” You hear the drummer, Nick, rattle off to the two young adults who pinned up the rest of the band’s merch on the peg board.

“You think? Eddie and Gareth came up with it themselves between D&D sessions in like, middle school.” The one spoke, a smile on his face and his freckles cheeks making his eyes close. “Yea dude! Y’know Philly has an amazing punk music scene it’s like the origin-“ Nick’s rambling was background noise to you as you hug his girlfriend who just arrived with the last of their band’s shirts. Gem was true to her name, a gem. Guiding you to the small sectioned off area for the photographers, she wanted to make sure security didn’t give you a hard time as they have before.

Setting your case between one of the speakers and the wall, you were too into making sure your camera was properly formatted to notice two figures near you. One on stage on their knees, fiddling with their peddles and wires that ran to the guitar placed on a stand next to the microphone and the other behind you waiting for you to move a hair over to join you in setting up their tech.

“Excuse me, sorry!” The even toned voice didn’t seem angry or bitter as you quickly side stepped to let them beside you. A light brown bob greeted your sights before you saw the angular face and side smile that the voice belonged to. Tapered slacks, a Corroded Coffin shirt, and open vest paired with silver jewelry and a crystal hung on a string were the first things you took in as your eyes gazed from the screen of your camera to the pair of blue eyes looking towards you.

“Hey, you’re (y/n), right?! One, huge fan of your work, like seriously! Two, well, actually. No two. Just be wary that the guys like to grab equipment so you get good shots. I’m Robin, nice to meet you!” A happy yet awkward chuckle left the rambling girl as her ringed fingers expertly secured her lens to the body of her camera and snapping a few shots off the stage.

“Hey! Yes thanks! I’ve seen some of your work and it’s absolutely amazing!” A grin played on your features as Robin went through the three stages of honor; shock, disbelief, and flattery. You both hit it off, chatting haphazardly as the crowd formed behind the metal barricade you rested on and the balcony. Soon enough, lights dimmed and the steady beat of a bass drum filled the room. Screams and cheers followed suit, that was your cue to go into work mode. Forgetting about what was around you, you worked nimbly with Robin to make sure you both got high grade shots and didn’t run into one another.

It wasn’t until the third or fourth song of the set when you went to go switch to your film camera that you noticed the four men on stage in front of you. The frontman instantly got your attention as he donned a pair of ripped skinny jeans and chains, rings, a muscle tank which showed off the opal skin stained with onyx and ruby ink, and a black bandana wrapped around his forehead. The brown-black hair was what struck you, though. Wild and unruly, his curls seemed to make him look even more angelic while if that were anyone else, they’d look like they had no idea to take care of their appearance. He was effortlessly ethereal; put together while also not being put together at all.

Your eyes must have burned a hole into his face because his brown doe eyes caught yours as he roamed the stage before the next song. His stoney, rocker façade seemingly broke for a half-moment as he drank you in before returning to what task was at hand.

Both of you couldn’t deny the intensity that drew both of you in but you found yourself already overthinking like you were getting ready for a date as you photographed the rest of their set.

You see, while your friend’s band was in the pop punk genre, which you enjoyed thoroughly, over time you’ve become drawn to bedroom and indie pop. Phoebe Bridgers, Ethel Cain, The Japanese House, The 1975, just to name a few. Many called it sad girl pop since the songs were catchy and addicting while the message in the lyrics dealt with the heavy reality of life.

So to say you were out of place in a sea of leather and chains was an understatement. Your bell bottom jeans and black ankle boots paired with the babydoll top Gem had made just for you for your birthday that had the band’s logo of a jar of sugar next to a bottle of spilt pills couldn’t stand out even more than it already did. That didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy the music Corroded Coffin was playing but it wasn’t your usual flavor.

With the last song fading, the house lights came back up and you capped your lens after turning the camera off to preserve battery. “Oh my god, (y/n). I have the best photo of you and Eddie staring at one another! Oh dude he’s going to be so embarrassed!” Shoving the camera into your line of sight, your eyes drew to the tiny bright screen. Your lips pressed into a cheeky grin before you peered to Robin through your lashes. “Oh you can’t delete that! Send it to me!” Mischief laced both of your auras, making a deeper connection with the girl who reminded you so much of yourself.

Grabbing your wrist with a playful laugh, Robin guided you away from the security of safety before leading you to the bar where there was the frizzy mass of hair downing a glass of ice water. His side profile was something out of a distant dream you had had years before but that was something you didn’t care about. The same doe eyes that softened when they landed on you found you once more before playful fear filled them as he noticed Robin guiding you towards him.

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djducats · 3 months

Video

youtube

Masta Ace & Marco Polo - Jordan Theory (Official Music Video)

#youtube #boom bap #east coast boom bap #marco polo #new york #toronto #hip hop #underground hip hop #dopeness

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slutforstabbings-archive · 11 months

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Number 5 with a Bullet - May

read on AO3 | tumblr masterpost

older!rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader/unnamed OC a multimedia diary fic

An unnamed diary writer working at a record label meets retired rockstar Eddie Munson when he's hired as the producer for an upcoming band's first album. Despite the 20+ year age gap and Eddie's checkered past, the chemistry between them is instant and they fall for each other alarmingly fast. But their budding romance can't stay private forever. Will she be able to handle the pressure of being a rockstar's girlfriend? Can multiple-divorcé Eddie finally make a relationship last? And what will the record company, the tabloids, and Eddie's semi-estranged adult children have to say about it?

general contents/warnings for this fic: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI), 20+ year age gap, past substance abuse issues, past sex work, multiple kinks no specific warnings for these entries

810 words

@rebel-blue @wolvesandvampires @toxicanonymity @hersweetrevenge @cordelium dm me or reply to this post to be added to my tag list 💕

transcript below the cut

20 May

Work has been so fucking boring lately. Festival season is in full swing and all the bands being out on the road means nobody is in the studio. I have a dull couple of months ahead of me. Most of the year it’s extremely fun, but studio manager summers suck.

And this is my fifth one! Fuck, I’ve been doing this a long time. Might be at the point where I should start angling for a promotion or something. I’ll bring it up to Rina. She’s climbed almost all the way to the top of the ladder – they announced a couple weeks ago she’s going to be the new director of A+R. I’m not sure what my options for moving up really are, but I know if Rina’s director she’ll have my back.

Seems like pretty much any job title would get me more interesting summers than this. Most of my coworkers and most of my non-work friends are gone somewhere doing something. A lot of them are on tour too, playing or managing or doing lights. The ones that aren’t are renting a beach house or living in Europe for a few months. The label offices are a ghost town and so is my calendar.

Maybe I’ll use some of my vacation time, take advantage of my connections to actually go to a festival for once. I already missed Coachella but that doesn’t bother me at all, that’s not the kind of festival I want. I think I’ll look for something much smaller, more curated, more niche, and NOT in California. A little east coast trip sounds so nice.

22 May

I didn’t even get a chance to look for a small east coast fest before I decided I’m staying home this summer. The best email I’ve ever gotten in my entire fucking life was waiting for me when I got back from lunch.

There’s the band, Apologetic Weapons. I’m friends with the members, especially the bassist, Nicky (we went on one date – no spark but we’ve been buddies ever since). I’ve been going to their shows since their second or third gig. I remember the first night I saw them, getting in my car and opening my work email immediately. Rina had been on the discovery team for a while by then and I was like keep an eye on these guys. All they had at the time was an instagram with ONE post.

Then last year they did a self-release that was so fucking good. I sent that to Rina too, and she said they were already negotiating a deal. I fucking called it! I couldn’t be happier for them, they’re gonna be fucking huge. The email was a request to book them studio time.

It’s so dope, it’s my first time working with a band I've followed since the beginning! But that’s not even all of it…

THE PRODUCER IS GONNA BE EDDIE FUCKING MUNSON!

Holy shit!!!!! When I read the email my jaw was on the fucking floor.

Corroded Coffin is like, everything to me. They were my first favorite band, Mom used to play them in the car for me all the time. I got sent home to change in school so many times for my collection of “inappropriate” CC t-shirts. I fucking cried when Eddie announced that he was retiring because I only got to see them twice 🙁 But I heard these rumors that he got his GED and went to college for audio engineering. Can you imagine sitting in a fucking college lecture and THE Eddie Munson asks to borrow a pen?? Anyway, I guess this means the rumors are true!

I respect that a lot. He’s been a megastar for like, 30 some odd years and plenty of other artists get into production with no formal training or anything, but he still put in the work. He seems like a pretty decent guy, unlike some of his peers. It’s such a low bar to just like, not hit your wife, not fuck around with underage girls, and not say stupid shit about minorities, but these old fuckers keep tripping over it anyway. Not Eddie tho. He’s far from perfect – substance abuse, arrests, car accidents, four ex-wives, all those pictures and videos that leaked – but he’s been out of the headlines for years, and I’ve never heard any industry people say anything bad about him.

And the man himself is aging like a fine wine. He’s always been stupidly beautiful, but in recent pictures his iconic hair is salt and pepper, and he’s got these deep crows feet and lines on his forehead. Somehow it all works to make him even hotter. I can’t believe I get to meet him and work adjacent to him. This summer is actually gonna be so fun.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #older!eddie #mine #slutforart #em

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thatssocheezy · 8 months

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Reggio’s Pizza - O’Hare International Airport in Chicago, IL

While in Chicago, Steven tried some airport deep dish before heading back to the East Coast. Honestly looks pretty dope to me, check out his thoughts below!

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piratewithvigor · 6 months

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Regal The Professional: Chapter 2

It isn't professional to smoke indoors, lie or cut another man's dope. Leon The Professional AU but make it found family

AO3

Chapter 1

Outside of the horrifically cold winter months, everyone in Blackpool biked everywhere. Biked up the pier, down the pier, home, to town, just about anywhere someone could think of. Every summer, there’d always be a story of so-and-so decided to bike clear to the east coast for a week, camping along the way. The only reason someone may not bike was if they were getting groceries for the week, where they’d need two hands. So they’d walk instead. Biking was the one thing he’d been so certain would follow him across the ocean. How wrong he’d been.

Cars were the big thing here. No matter how near somewhere was, if a car was available, a car was taken. Tony explained as best he could that a bike would simply get stolen, no matter how heavy-duty a lock was put on. Regal shrugged off the fretting as typical Tony anxiety and swore to never shrug off a warning after his fourth-hand shit-cycle was stolen less than seven hours after it was purchased. Regal hadn’t wanted to relent, but his finances simply couldn’t handle buying a new bike every seven hours. It could, however, handle a $10/month subway pass, so subways became his preferred method of transportation.

Frequent, convenient, somewhere that being recognized was and forever would be a rarity. No one questioned a man in a suit with a briefcase on the subway. At the right time of day, there would be another dozen men wearing the same ensemble, just in the same car. It didn’t clear his mind as well as pedaling up a hill might, but it only took a few weeks for the rhythmic clunking and frequent squealing of brakes to be as soothing. If he really needed to think of something besides an upcoming or recently completed job, Regal challenged himself to the ever-popular game of “What’s That Smell?”. On the day he’s sitting in the pretty-much-empty car, wiping Double J’s strangely sticky fake tan off the blade of his knife, he decides the smell is ‘human existence’ and resolves to play a new game.

Between the station he gets off at and the bodega underneath his apartment, he plays another game called “How Many Steps Is It To The Milk Section?”, in which he makes a guess of how many steps it might be to the milk section (285) and then counts, starting from the station exit and finishing right in front of the fridge doors. On the one hand, Regal resents himself a little for playing games like these. He’s a grown man and should just be going about his day as a grown man does; going to work, getting groceries, making himself dinner and then going home. These are the games he could play if he were still a child trying to skip every second plank on the boardwalk or only walking on un-cracked squares in the sidewalk, but not now. On the other hand, games like these are the only kind that keep him from thinking too much about his work when it does him no good to do so, the games hurt no one, and he’s only got 16 steps left to cross a distance probably closer to taking 40, so maybe a longer step here or there won’t make too much of a difference.

The milk section at the bodega (297 steps from the subway station) is right beside the bottled beer section on one side and the canned beer section on the other. Hanging over top of the door that he opens close to every day is a sign that suggests out of the three beverages, pregnant women may only want the one and should refrain from the other two. Pregnant women, children and him. Likely the only three groups of people living in the building who preferred milk to beer. Not that there were an awful lot of pregnant women or children. Regal would be the first to admit he probably counted for most of the milk sales at the bodega. He picks up two quarts and almost labels them 298 and 299 mentally before slipping them into his briefcase. He used to bring them up to the counter, but once the owner figured out exactly what he bought, when and how much it cost, a wordless transaction could be carried out; a five-dollar bill placed in the middle of the counter, two shared nods and the little ringing of the bell above the door.

The door to the actual apartment complex sits right beside the window of the bodega. It doesn’t lock anymore, if it ever did. Regal has a key on the chain he was given that supposedly opens and closes the lock, but it’s gone more unused than the rusted-through cast-iron railings that lead up to it. On the other side of the door is a lobby just big enough to host mailboxes for all 35 apartments in the building and a winding staircase that goes to every floor. 70 years ago, when the building was built, it probably seemed majestic, even luxurious. Now, with it being the only method of getting to the top floor, the value of the building isn’t quite what it was. It used to be a great place to raise a family, as a number of the older ladies will recount if Regal stands in the lobby for too long. Now, there’s really only one left, up on the fifth floor.

There’s about three places that Wheeler Yuta can go that are considered a reasonable place to spend his time when at home: the tiny bedroom that used to be fine before it got a second twin bed added to it, the kitchen which doubles as a living room now that they’ve got a portable tv to sit squarely in the middle of the table, and the hallway of the fifth floor, right outside the apartment. The third is the place Wheeler’s found is the least frequented by the rest of his family. If he’s quiet, no one will notice he’s out there for hours, feet through the old railings and dangling over the five-story drop to the lobby. The smell out there is also bad enough that no one notices if he’s stolen one of his dad’s cigarettes from the pack that leans up against the toaster most mornings (god forbid his old man go the full three-minute toasting time without lighting up).

It’s also the place where he can see the most people. It’s solitary, but also busy. A nice little paradox that keeps Wheeler’s mind occupied outside of school. Most people who come up the stairs live on the first four floors, so he never gets to actually meet them. The only real option is to come up with stories about them and imagine what their lives are like. Every so often, someone passes the landing for the fourth floor and Wheeler’s heart flutters a little. Like this guy in a suit and coat that looks almost too nice for a building like this.

He sets down the cigarette beside his leg and leans back on his palms, hoping that the man will just look past it. Never can be too careful about who might secretly be friends with his dad. The man walks past Wheeler, almost like he’d just keep going without even acknowledging him.

“Hi.”

Only when Wheeler pipes up does the man look down. He looks stern, like the guys who come to give presentations about drugs at school. Wheeler can’t tell if he’d be the police officer telling about how he busted someone for dealing drugs or if he’d be the addict who got clean and now makes a living talking about his darkest days. He doesn’t exactly seem like an openly kind man, one way or another.

“Why did you hide that cigarette?” The man asks. Not scolding like Wheeler was bracing himself for, but more like he’s curious. Like he’s never caught a nine year old smoking before. Like he’s never been the nine year old getting caught smoking before.

“The building’s got two kinds of rats; couldn’t tell if you were the kind who’d tell my old man,” Wheeler shrugs, quietly wondering if the polite thing to do would be to put it out. There’s a protocol for smoking around people, but his dad hasn’t exactly been the one to demonstrate it. “Got enough problems.”

The man takes a step closer, definitely curious now. For a moment, Wheeler wonders if he really has never seen a kid smoking before. That’s before he remembers what made him come out to the hallway in the first place. The bruise on his forehead he’d been keeping covered with his hair thus far that had become uncovered when he shifted positions.

“What happened?”

How far back did he want the story? Chuck and Orange met on the other side of the 78, crossed it for some damned reason, had a happy little honeymoon while they followed their dreams, started taking pain pills, started making worse decisions. Then Trent came into the picture and the decisions got worse. Somewhere along the line, Wheeler had gotten roped into their little fairytale against his will. Five years later, Kris was suddenly around and even though she was the best person in the world, she kept getting pushed back to the shadows while their parents tried to work their way backwards through all the bad decisions and made worse ones in the process. Now they live here, maxing out the last credit card on rent, boarding school and the bills for doctors who only advertise in magazines that get stashed under beds.

Or was that too far and he only means what caused the bruise? Simple, Trent’s back was hurting from being hunched over the table last night working, so he took some of the powder medicine and when he did, every missing item was instantly Wheeler’s fault. Ergo, the TV remote biffed at his face from across the table.

“I fell off my bike.”

His answer satisfies the man, who turns and continues down the hall to where Wheeler is pretty sure he’s seen him open a door before.

“Hey?”

The man stops and looks at Wheeler, a little less curious than he had been.

“Please don’t tell my dad about the cigarette?”

He won’t. He doesn’t say so, but Wheeler can tell he won’t.

Apartment 5D’s heavy wooden door opens a few feet down the hallway. The door is only heavy because Wheeler’s pretty sure it’s just metal with a wood paneling over it. And not a good metal either; just a heavy one so the overworked hinges creak every time it opens or shuts. It’s the door that indicates that Wheeler should probably toss the cigarette away. A quick crush against the metal edging of the floor and then into the abyss it goes.

There’s three men arguing inside the apartment and another one who slowly strides out in leather shoes probably worth as much as the building itself. They shine brighter than any lightbulb that’s been installed and the cows who made them probably ate better than anyone who lives there could ever afford.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to us.”

“I don’t–”

“Funny how many people get memory problems these days, Ang. Must be the sun. They say that hole in the ozone, y’know? Can’t be out in the sun as long anymore. Man’s gotta know when to get out of the sun.”

As if Trent actually went out into the sun. The only time he was ever even awake during the day were the days that these men came by. Not often enough for Wheeler to remember their names or for them to actually acknowledge that Wheeler lived there too, but often enough that Wheeler could probably pick them out of a lineup by judging their shoes and pants.

“I don’t know how it happened, I mean, what’s my job? I’m just a holder, you give me the stuff and I hold it.”

The hide and seek game that Trent insisted they play sometimes. He’d give Wheeler and Kris 20 seconds to hide a brick and if Trent couldn’t find where they put it after ten minutes of looking, they got to share a popsicle. If he did find it, they played again. And again. Sometimes for hours until a new spot could be found. Then Trent put his work supplies wherever they had hidden the brick.

“You hold it.”

“I just hold it. I don’t look at it, don’t touch it, I stick it somewhere and forget about it. I don’t even know how to cut it.”

They’re all walking out of the apartment one by one, none of them looking all too happy to be there. Wheeler’s sure he should probably just sneak by and go back into the apartment if he can, but seeing them all argue together like this is so much more fun.

The man with the nice shoes isn’t watching at all. He’s got his back turned to them and something on his head that Wheeler can’t quite make out from this far away. What he can make out is Trent flanked by two other men in leather and purple and enough grease in their hair for a fish fry.

“Try ‘n follow me. At the start of June, we came here and we delivered you a shipment that tested 100% pure, right?” The shorter one starts.

“Now it’s July and we’re only seeing 90 here,” the taller one concludes. “Now Trent, buddy, we know accidents happen, a couple points down here or there, we know that, comes with the business. But somewhere in the last 30 days, we’ve got a whole 10% missing.”

“10% don’t just get up and walk away.”

“It does not, not unless it’s been turned to cut.”

The two of them seem like mean versions of Ernie and Bert, Wheeler decides. Trent’s obviously in trouble with them for doing something wrong with his work. Something missing. Great, something else he’ll blame Wheeler for.

“I mean it, I don’t know what happened. You gave me the stuff, I put the stuff away, it hasn’t been touched since I put it there. It’s not my business to touch it more than that. That’s all I know.”

Well, at least Wheeler’s not getting blamed to these guys.

“Trent… Trenty Trent, lemme tell you a story,” Ernie swings an arm over Trent’s shoulder. “You know why they call him-” he gestures with a pointed finger to Bert, “-Cool Hand?”

“No, no, not really. Circulation problem?”

Ernie and Bert both laugh, but it’s not the funny hissing kind like on Sesame Street. Just the kind where the joke isn’t actually funny and they’re not actually laughing.

“No, they call him Cool Hand cause he does this real cool thing where he gives folks a hand.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

“It’s what I’m tryin’ to do here for you, Trent, buddy. Tryin’ to give you the chance to be honest with us, cause us? We’re reasonable guys. We got into the force to help people, y’know. Can’t help people if they don’t help themselves, but if you’re not gonna help yourself, if you’re gonna be stubborn about this, then we’re gonna have to disturb him.”

Wheeler had almost forgotten that Nice Shoes was there. He’s still facing away from the others, mostly motionless, like he’s thinking of something else. When Wheeler squints a little, he can finally see it: headphones. He’s ignoring them and listening to music. It doesn’t seem very professional, but with shoes like that, he’s probably rich enough that it doesn’t matter.

“You’re not gonna want us to disturb him,” Ernie promises Trent, lowering his voice a little bit. “When he’s into his music, he hates being disturbed.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Trent insists. It doesn’t seem to make either Ernie or Bert happy.

“I hope so. For your sake,” Bert sighs. “He’s got a talent for sniffing out lies. Like one of those carnies who guess your weight. It’s kinda scary. “You sure you don’t wanna change your tune, make it so I don’t have to interrupt his?”

“I swear it’s the truth.”

Ernie lowers his hand from Trent’s shoulder and shares a look with Bert. Neither of them are all too excited to disturb him for any reason. The only person who is is Wheeler. Nice Shoes has been standing there this whole time, ignoring everyone to listen to his music. It’s all Wheeler usually ever sees him do. Nice Shoes only comes on pickup days, so it’s only the third time he’s ever seen him, but the first where he’s been able to tell what he’s doing. And he’s certainly never seen him disturbed.

Ernie takes a step in his direction and pats Nice Shoes’ shoulder gently.

“Chris? Sorry for disturbin’, he says he didn’t do it. He wasn’t the one who cut the dope.”

“...oh.”

Wheeler can’t really place the tone. He doesn’t sound surprised. Just… disappointed? Like he expected better from Trent? Like he’d been counting on Trent to win the big game and Trent twisted his ankle on the way to the field?

Bert may have called him Chris, but Chris sounded like a person’s name. The look in his eyes and the way he slinks his way up to Trent makes him feel like anything else. So Wheeler decides he’ll stay Nice Shoes. Nice Shoes seems like the type of individual who would circle a man like a snake, going tighter in, sniffing as he goes like he’s a snake and is trying to figure out if Trent is worth eating or worth keeping alive. Even when he gently hugs Trent, Wheeler feels sick in the lowest pit of his stomach.

“No, of course he didn’t. Just… do me a favor,” Nice Shoes murmurs, leaning his forehead against Trent. “Find out who did by tomorrow, okay? Noon.”

He lets go of Trent and starts making his way to the stairs and, coincidentally, towards Wheeler. Calmly. His nice shoes clicking on the old linoleum. They almost make the linoleum sound nice too. Ernie and Bert follow after him, just a step or two behind. Trent’s frozen in place until they reach the old carpet that doesn’t serve much purpose besides keeping the stairs from getting slick in the winter. It’s as though the clicking held him in place and when it subsides, he’s able to rush to the staircase railing with the last of the confidence he ever had.

“Jericho, I didn’t cut your shit. I didn’t… so you can find out yourself!”

None of the men acknowledge him. They’ve dealt with enough tough guys that they can tell false bravado when they hear it. The desperation to still be seen as someone with any kind of power.

Unfortunately, as one of Wheeler’s legal parents, it means the last of his power is over him.

“What the hell are you doing out here anyway? Get inside and do your homework.”

Showed how much he’d been paying attention. Wheeler hadn’t brought home any homework in two weeks now.

“I finished it already.”

“Oh yeah?” Wheeler tries to move, but the slap still connects with his cheek hard enough to echo. “Well you can get inside and help your sister clean up! And quit smoking!”

From the peephole in his apartment at the end of the hall, Regal can see the boy scrambling from his sitting place to the apartment where the family lives. They’ve been neighbors ever since he moved in, but they haven’t seemed like the neighborly type thus far. Only the boy’s ever said a word to him. Regal doesn’t exactly mind it this way, it helps him keep a low profile if fewer people know him. But every so often, he does get the quiet urge to chastise this man for being stupid. Putting his family in danger for a measly 10%? He didn’t get a chance to actually see the shipment from the peephole, but it must be enough to be worth throwing a fuss.

There’s nothing else he can do for the boy once the apartment door is closed. Though he probably wouldn’t have done much when it was open either. Gun to his head, he can’t explain why he watched the whole scene unfold. He’s not in the business of calling cops (though from the looks of those men, he wouldn’t have done much good doing so anyway) and busting down his own door, guns blazing, wasn’t any more of an option. He’s certainly no caretaker. The only thing he’s ever watched over is the ficus on the windowsill.

Regal slides the peephole cover down and pulls off his coat. One of the few things he brought over from Blackpool and hasn’t thrown out yet. It holds up against New York winters without being too warm over the summer and gives him more than enough mobility to wear the grenade belt and two holsters undetected. Or perhaps detected and no one cares to ask why he’s wearing enough grenades to take down a building at the yank of a single pin. It is New York, after all; people mind their business likely more than they should.

The harness balances the weight across his back pretty well, but disrobing from everything is still a welcome relief. The same gentle relief of an addict giving into a vice. Where his body is no longer aching when he had never realized it had been in the first place. The shower (as lukewarm and low-pressured as it is) feels even nicer.

They’d promised noon, but Regal would have had to have been born yesterday to believe they’ll keep a strict schedule. The more than man shitily lied, the more Regal could count on him having been enough of an idiot to actually cut the dope. A full ten percent, what had he been thinking? How could he have believed it would go unnoticed? Just blindly written away as a testing error? He’s probably even stupid enough to keep his family in the same spot and not get them to a safehouse before noon and take his punishment like a man. Hopefully not enough of an idiot to not have some kind of gun in the house, but certainly enough to try and use it come noon.

Regal’s quietly grateful that the easy chair in the living room is cozy enough to sleep in as he settles down with his own 9mm on the side table. The nitwit next door may not be ready, but Regal will be damned if he makes the same mistake.

#broke my promise and posted even though Roman won #i don't care i need the serotonin #William Regal #Wheeler Yuta #Chris Jericho #Matt Menard #Angelo Parker #AEW #Regal The Professional #Writing

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lady-raziel · 1 year

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tell me about the brotherhood of steel in your head please i want to know so badly

ok so there's a chapter of the brotherhood of steel that exists in the rocky mountain region that split off from the western chapters many years ago and was successful for a while but has been in a slow decline and the nail in the coffin was when caesar's legion rolled into the area and essentially killed the chapter off. most of the remaining members have either been killed or wandered off to other parts of the wasteland. those that stayed with the chapter officially, only a handful, got caught in a radiation storm that lasted for weeks, and it irradiated them so bad they, guess what, got ghoulified. but the brotherhood hates non-humans so they had to do some serious soul-searching and realized that in the beginning when the brotherhood was founded it was more about preserving technology to keep humanity from falling into the dark ages again and preventing another nuclear war. the surviving members of the rocky mountain chapter realized they could continue this mission and further the goals of helping people rebuild even as ghouls.

well then fallout new vegas happens and caesar's legion gets the axe. suddenly the rocky mountain region is up for grabs again. the rocky mountain chapter realizes that in order to have stability in the region, they need to gain control of the area so another caesar doesn't show up and the land doesn't fall to raiders again. they've also heard rumors of a place called vault 0, which was the command center for all the vaults and used to be NORAD, america's missile command bunker. all they know is vault 0 is they key to securing the remaining missiles in america's arsenal and that the place is rumored to be held by the enclave. caesar's legion tried to breach the vault but never succeeded. but the rocky mountain brotherhood realize that if they open their chapter to anyone who wants to join and make a difference, they might have a shot. so they start recruiting ghouls and wastelanders, and even a few supermutants (they build custom power armor for the super mutants, because i think that would be sick as fuck). They even get a few synths who have escaped the institute.

so with their brand new recruits they uncover the enclave and take vault 0 and basically gain control of all the remaining operational nukes and then nobody wants to fuck with them, which is actually fine because they're super chill and interested in actually helping people in the rocky mountain region. but fast forward to them wanting to reconnect with the other chapters of the brotherhood of steel which are either 1) at war with the ncr or 2) asshats. They're basically like "roger maxon didn't die for you to perpetuate the same bullshit that got us in this nuclear mess in the first place" and "not being assholes and racist actually works well in your favor, actually" and decide that with their nuclear arsenal and planes salvaged from the enclave, they're gonna take control of the rest of the brotherhood and put a stop to this nonsense.

so then they show up in Boston and basically tell Arthur Maxon that he's a little racist baby bitch and to sit the fuck down because elder Lyons actually was dope af. and he'd be super disappointed in you if he were alive and hadn't disappeared under mysterious circumstances, arthur. There's also a whole subplot in my head about how arthur got to the east coast from the west coast brotherhood that involves a lot of attempted murder and a hot air balloon but we don't have time to get into that right now.

anyways the rocky mountain brotherhood mary-sues their way into the fallout 4 plotline, defeats the institute with the help of the sole survivor, frees the synths, and makes the eastern brotherhood look like racist fools. which makes them then question everything and makes arthur maxon realize that everything he thought he stood for was a total lie.

idk there are more pieces and it's all very long and complicated and somewhat based on tidbits of lore from things i've read on the fallout wiki and very much existing in my head

but, you asked.

#my fallout rambles #it's a very long and complicated lore based daydream

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cyarskaren52 · 9 months

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There’s nothing like a good collaboration with mcs that really gets the fans excited

There are some posse cuts that are undeniable.

We all know "The Symphony" and "Buddy." And who doesn't love the star-making turn Nas gave us on "Live At the BBQ" or Busta's scene-stealing verse from "Scenario?" And there are posse cuts that may not be as inescapable as those tracks, but are just as noteworthy. The one-upmanship of "Don't Curse." The camaraderie of "Watch For The Hook." So many others that deserve way more love that don't get discussed as much as the go-to tracks.

But what is a posse cut? In this day and age of constant collaboration, the thought of several emcees hopping on a track together may seem routine. But a posse cut is when a corp of rappers team up and take turns showcasing their skills on the mic. For the purposes of this list, we're gonna stick to songs that feature at least four emcees (sorry "I Wanna Be Down" remix) and couldn't be group cuts like "Triumph" by Wu-Tang Clan.

But here are songs that we think you might wanna check out, if you love hearing emcees bringing out the best in each other over a dope track.

#26

"VIBIN'" (REMIX) - BOYZ II MEN FEAT. CRAIG MACK, TREACH, BUSTA RHYMES, METHOD MAN [BONUS SONG]

Our BONUS SONG is a celebrated guest spot! Or in this case--four emcees taking over for the harmonizing Philly quartet.

#25

"DA LADIES IN THE HOUSE" - BIG KAP FEAT. U-NEEK, PRECISE, LAURYN HILL, BAHAMADIA

This track from Big Kap may have had quite the on-the-nose title (and very 90s spelling: "Da?"), but it's one of the most underrated posse cuts of all time. Shout-out to Precise and Uneek, Bahamadia and the one they call "L," who shows up and shows out in this early (Pre-THE SCORE, that is) appearance.

#24

"DUSTED N DISGUSTED" - E-40 FEAT. MAC MALL, 2PAC, SPICE-1

Everyone came with heat, and in the video they held it down for 2Pac, who was incarcerated. The Bay Area represented to the fullest on this classic from 40 Fonzarelli.

#23

"1 TRAIN" - A$AP ROCKY FEAT. BIG K.R.I.T., YELAWOLF, DANNY BROWN, KENDRICK LAMAR, ACTION BRONSON

An impressive lineup of 2010s emcees go bar-for-bar on this banger from LONG.LIVE.A$AP. Hit-Boy produced this track with the intention of capturing a 1990s East Coast underground feel. Mission accomplished.

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#22

"GOT MY MIND MADE UP" - 2PAC FEAT. THA DOGG POUND, METHOD MAN, REDMAN

A great lyrical showcase that debunks the East-vs-West mythology of 1996; this is lyricism at it's finest. And 2Pac quotes Run-D.M.C. and Rakim for good measure, just to remind everyone he was as Hip-Hop as anyone.

#21

"SYMPHONY 2000" - EPMD FEAT. REDMAN, METHOD MAN, LADY LUCK

We could not talk about great posse cuts that deserve more love and not mention this heat rock from the Def Squad/Hit Squad crew. Everybody snaps the fuck out on this track. And it'll make you wish we heard way more from Lady Luck.

#20

"WATCH FOR THE HOOK" - COOL BREEZE FEAT. OUTKAST, WITCHDOCTOR, GOODIE MOB

The Dungeon Family was at the peak of its powers when Witchdoctor, the members of Goodie Mob and OutKast teamed up with Cool Breeze for this anthem. Highlighting a handful of the greatest emcees in Atlanta rap history, it helped solidify the talent throughout the crew and still has one of the coolest videos of the 1990s.

#19

"24 HRS TO LIVE" - MA$E FEAT. DMX, BLACK ROB, THE LOX

Ma$e became one of the biggest rap stars of the late 1990s on the strength of slick pop hits, but this classic was one of the grimier moments on the multiplatinum-selling Harlem World and features a star-making appearance from Dark Man X.

#18

"MAKE 'EM SAY UGH" - MASTER P FEAT. FIEND, MYSTIKAL, SILKK THE SHOCKER, MIA X

New Orleans rap stormed the mainstream in 1997, and this anthem from Master P's GHETTO D album was the rallying call. No Limit smashed through and showcased some of the brightest stars on the label, with Mia X, Fiend and Mystikal ripping the track to shreds.

#17

"JOHN BLAZE" - FAT JOE FEAT. NAS, RAEKWON, BIG PUN, JADAKISS

You can feel the respect in the room. These are all emcees who hold each other in the highest esteem and they bring the best out of each other here. Pure late 1990s Mafioso rap greatness, all on one track.

#16

"STRANDED ON DEATH ROW" - DR. DRE W/SNOOP DOGGY DOGG, KURUPT, LADY OF RAGE, RBX

It may seem contradictory to act like any track on one of the most famous rap albums of all time is something you might've slept on, but seriously-- why don't we talk more about how great the album closing Death Row call-to-arms is here? And there' a Bushwick Bill cameo!

#15

"I SHOT YA" (REMIX) - LL COOL J FEAT. KEITH MURRAY, FAT JOE, PRODIGY, FOXY BROWN

It may suffer in the shadow of a hit single like "4,3,2,1," but we can't front on LL's grimy, gritty group shot from 1995. Featuring one of his most bombastic verses, a straight up classic by Prodigy, and a star turn from Foxy Brown, it reminded everyone (once again) that LL can go hardcore with the best of 'em.

#14

"MONSTER" - KANYE WEST FEAT. NICKI MINAJ, RICK ROSS, JAY-Z

Kanye flew his collaborators to Hawaii to record this standout from MY BEAUTIFUL DARK TWISTED FANTASY, and Nicki Minaj's hyperkinetic verse absolutely steals the show. The controversial Jake Nava-directed music video remains one of Kanye's most memorable.

#13

"BANNED FROM TV" - N.O.R.E. FEAT. JADAKISS, STYLES P, BIG PUN, CAM'RON, NATURE

Swizz Beatz was a new producer when he laced N.O.R.E. with this anthemic beat and six hungry wordsmiths let loose on it. It's an anthem that sounds of its era—and we mean that in the BEST way.

#12

"RUMBLE IN THE JUNGLE" - THE FUGEES W/A TRIBE CALLED QUEST, JOHN FORTE, BUSTA RHYMES

Over one of Clef's best productions, these legendary crews repped from Native Tongues and the Refugee Camp while singing the praises of none other than Muhammad Ali. It's the Blackest, dopest shit you've ever heard. Is it the most underrated posse cut of all time? We think so.

#11

"DON'T CURSE" HEAVY D & THE BOYZ FEAT. PETE ROCK & CL SMOOTH, Q-TIP, KOOL G RAP, BIG DADDY KANE

Heavy D knew that he was every grandmother's favorite rapper and decided to poke fun with that image (and with the idea of censorship) while recruiting some fellow legends to do it. It's a wonderfully tongue-in-cheek moment that showcases real camaraderie, over a sick Booker T. & The M.G.'s flip.

#10

"STAY FLY" - THREE SIX MAFIA FEAT. EIGHTBALL & MJG, YOUNG BUCK

Legends gon' legend. It's a victory lap for some titans of Memphis rap. Call it a "crossover" hit all you want, some songs are just dope. And this is one of 'em.

"4, 3, 2, 1" - LL COOL J FEAT. REDMAN, METHOD MAN, CANIBUS, MASTER P, DMX

The song that launched one of the most infamous beefs in rap history, it's almost taken for granted that it's also one of the dopest posse cuts of all time. Erick Sermon provides the beat, as a handful of rap icons do their thing.

"NOT TONIGHT" (LADIES NIGHT REMIX) - LIL KIM FEAT. ANGIE MARTINEZ, MISSY ELLIOTT, LEFT EYE, DA BRAT

Hip-Hop had precious few all-star female posse cuts when Lil Kim tapped four fierce emcees for this girls-night-out classic. An iconic performance at the 1997 MTV Video Music Awards cemented it as a rap standard.

"LIVE AT THE BBQ" - MAIN SOURCE FEAT. NAS, JOE FATAL, AKINYELE

The legendary track from CRITICAL BEATDOWN is famous for announcing a pair of newcomers named Akinyele and Nas, but let's not forget that "...BBQ" is also just a blazing posse cut that captures the round robin energy of friends freestyling in the basement.

"I GOT 5 ON IT" (REMIX) - THE LUNIZ FEAT. DRU DOWN, E-40, SHOCK G, RICHIE RICH, SPICE-1

Some shit you just have to do. Whether this is an widely hailed classic or woefully slept on masterpiece might depend on where you grew up, but we weren't going to do this list and just not mention this Bay Area roll call. It's just all NoCal love, and it's just as cool today as it was 25 years ago.

"FLAVA IN YA EAR" (REMIX) - CRAIG MACK FEAT. THE NOTORIOUS B.I.G., RAMPAGE, LL COOL J, BUSTA RHYMES

The song that really let the world that Bad Boy had arrived. Craig Mack's original single was a hit, but it was subsequently overshadowed by this classic. Fans can recite everybody's verse on this one.

"BUDDY" - DE LA SOUL FEAT. JUNGLE BROTHERS, Q-TIP, MONIE LOVE, QUEEN LATIFAH

The Native Tongues were already earning a reputation for outside-the-box creativity when De La Soul dropped this D.A.I.S.Y. Age ode to coitus. It's so freewheeling and whimsical that you might not notice how naughty it is; but the vibe stays breezy.

"INTL PLAYERS ANTHEM (I CHOOSE YOU)" - UGK FEAT. OUTKAST

It's a song that has come to epitomize rappers gettin' grown. After years of songs about being playas and pimps, two of the South's most iconic acts gave the Dirty an ode to matrimony. Produced by DJ Paul of Three Six Mafia, the ceremony begins with an uber-classic verse from André 3000, and Big Boi, Bun B and Pimp C do the rest from there. Three Six joins in on the remix.

"SCENARIO" - A TRIBE CALLED QUEST FEAT. LEADERS OF THE NEW SCHOOL

Widely considered one of the greatest posse cuts of all time, “Scenario,” which was the third single from "The Low End Theory," also served as a launchpad for Busta Rhyme’s solo career.

"SYMPHONY" - MARLEY MARL W/BIG DADDY KANE, CRAIG G, KOOL G RAP, MASTA ACE

Marley put together Hip-Hop's Avengers for this Juice Crew-defining cut. Indisputably one of the greatest rap tracks ever, and a posse cuttour de force, this is one of Marley's masterpieces.

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#hip hop 50 #today in hip hop history #todayinhiphophistory #hiphop #hip-hop #hip hop #hip hop music #hip hop history #hip hop culture #music #history #music history #television #rap #rapper #emcee #mc

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