#there’s a guitar in the song but appears only in the chorus

[kimchunsgha]

i think blue flame is such an interesting song simply bc they made the bass be the main instrument in this song and did such a fun bass line with some synths you genuinely don’t see songs that are produced like this that often

#there’s a guitar in the song but appears only in the chorus #and it’s not for that long #if i was bassist i would be playling that song all the time #bc the bass line is so fun too #tris.txt

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 4 - They Call Me Kid

AN : So second person won the poll so I guess I will continue in this POV…I love seeing comments so keep at it. And don’t forget that I have a tag list, so just ask if you can be put on it! Enjoy! 

The blare of the alarm from your phone was not fun to wake up to. Arthur had told you many times to change it, but you never listened. If there was a nice tune that was supposed to wake you up, you never would. A sleepy groan escaped your lips as you stretched. You wanted to rub your eyes, but you knew better. Taking a shower was the first thing on your agenda. 

The shower was definitely smaller than the one you had back home, but it would have to do. The water pressure wasn’t great either. You just hoped that the water wouldn’t leave your hair feeling greasy all day. At least you could use the hair dryer. It didn’t take long for the water to warm up. Your muscles instantly relaxed under the stream of heat. 

You definitely fit into the category of “girls who love molten lava water temperature.” Cold showers, or just any cold water, were not your thing. Your trainer often had to force you to get into the ice bath. 

The water helped the sleepiness go away, but a red bull would really get the job done. Knowing the time crunch, you quickly washed and conditioned your hair, along with shaving and exfoliating. You needed to make a good impression on the first day. 

Drying your hair barely took anytime. Since you knew that the simulator would be a big part of today, you forwent the contacts and decided to use your glasses. 

The real driving started on Sunday. Which, you couldn’t help but be excited for. However, you knew how to use a sim, but not the physical car. 

The basics would only help you out so much. 

You shook your head, trying to get out of the oncoming detrimental mindset. You needed music. And there was only one song that you knew would help. 

“Hey Siri, play Life is a Highway by Rascal Flats.” 

The female AI voice responded, “Now playing, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts.” 

The familiar sound of the drums and eclectic guitar filled the small bathroom. Your head started to bob as you began your skin care routine. Your makeup didn’t take long since you had decided to go with your glasses. 

“I’LL BE THERE WHEN THE LIGHT COMES IN – JUST TELL ‘EM WE’RE SURVIVORS!” 

Your hands pretended to play an air guitar as you jumped on your bed. You flung your hair left and right at you went into the chorus. 

“LIFE IS A HIGHWAY, WELL I WANNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LONG!” 

You, however, were stopped once there was a knock on the door. You quickly turned the music off before clamoring down from the bed. You almost tripped on a loose shoe as you quickly opened the door. 

Standing there was Vito. He took in your appearance before smirking. He pushed passed you and walked further into the room. 

“Well ok then,” you muttered, “just let yourself in I guess.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to tame the fly aways from your one person concert. 

“Heard you singing down the hallway.” Your mouth gaped. 

“No you did not.” Your shoulders brushed as you walked back into the bathroom. You heard him chuckle as he sat down on your stomped on bed. You quickly finished up. Grabbing your bag, you let Vito know that you were ready. He stood up and walked to the door, with you following behind him. 

You said a quick good morning to the desk workers before walking out the sliding doors. Outside, a nice SUV with tinted was waiting. 

“Front seat or back seat?” you asked. 

“Back.” 

Your hand reached for the back handle and popped the door open. The driver turned around a bit and gave you a smile as you slid on the nice leather. You greeted him before he turned around. The car started to move a bit as you put your seatbelt on. 

“What is on the agenda for today?” you ask Vito as he pulls out a fancy tablet. It looked very similar to the one that Christian had yesterday afternoon. 

“So you have a simulator run, then a suit fitting, and then you need to quickly decide on a helmet design. You could use your current one, but it’s Vegas,” Vito replies. 

“Viva Las Vegas,” you murmured the tune. “When do I need to send in a helmet design?” 

“Probably by the end of the day. They mentioned they needed it soon.” 

“Gotcha.” You quickly took out your phone to start looking over saved designs that you had. Scrolling through your ideas, a couple stood out to you. You reached over to show Vito a few pictures. “Do you think it’s too early for this one?” A bright red and yellow helmet was on display. 

Vito only laughed. “Quite possibly.” He took your phone and scrolled through the rest of the designs. “Your current helmet is white and silver. Do you want to continue or do you want to go with a darker shade?” 

You let out a hmmm. “Let’s keep it white,” you pulled your lip in between your teeth, “and can we add the sparkles?” You were basically a child when it came to glitter. 

“Sure kid.” Vito seemed to screenshot the design and send it to an unknown number. You were satisfied with what you picked. You just couldn’t wait to use the rest of them. You had one picked out for your first actual race, one for COTA, one for Halloween, one for…you got pulled out of your thoughts when the car stopped. 

The building, once again, was very impressive. You could get used to the view. At this point, you never wanted anything to be different. You heard the unbuckling of Vito’s seatbelt and followed suit. You both used the back entrance once again to get into the building. You guessed that RB was very particular about what news they wanted to get out and what news they wanted to keep secret. 

Passing the posters, you felt better about the future. You would be up there, if it was the last thing you did. This time, you followed Vito down a different hallway than the first time. Through a door at the end of the hallway, the two of you entered a giant room with multiple sims. Your heart started to race. You couldn’t decipher if it was from anxiety or excitement. 

Vito continued to walk forward with you hot on his heals. You didn’t want to get too far from him, but your eyes caught the new DMG-1. Even Dams didn’t have this grand of machinery. You had strayed just enough from Vito to be “alone,” but you were still close. Your eyes raced over the sim. Excitement started to buzz in your veins. Your hands itched to touch the wheel. It was all impressive. You didn’t expect anything less from the all-time dominant team. 

“You like it?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. 

You turned your head and your eyes met a pair of brown ones. A woman, taller than you, in an official RB polo stood with one of those tablets. 

You could only nod your head, eyes glistening like a kid in a candy store. This is basically your candy.  

“It-it’s amazing,” you stuttered, suddenly feeling shy. 

The woman let out a small laugh before putting a hand out between the two of you. You grasped the hand firmly as she shook yours. 

“Michelle Williams, your Race Engineer. I’m here to see how you do on the sim.” She gave you a nice smile. 

“Nice to meet you Miss Williams,” you shyly said. This time, her laugh was a little louder as she waved her hands. 

“None of that, people often call me Mitch, and I want you to do as well. You have anything you want me to call you by?” 

Your head cocked. With eyes shifting quickly to Vito, you answered, “They call me kid. I don’t know why, but Vito started calling me that during F2 and it kinda just stuck.” Your shoulders shrugged. You knew exactly why he called you that. You had just turned 17 days before your first F2 debut. You were a kid. Thus, the nickname still stuck. 

She nodded. “Alright kid. You want to show me what you can do?” 

Your eyes widened. “Right now?” 

“Yep. Don’t worry about the others. They’re here for other things. It’s just going to be me and you. A test run for the real thing if you will.” Her smile was comforting. 

You took a deep breath and took a step towards the simulator. You carefully climbed into the machine with the help of Mitch. Once you had gotten situated, you pulled the straps down and buckled in. Mitch handed you a headset and explained that she would have one as well on the outside to get you used to her talking. 

She started up the sim from the outside. You were now in your element. 

From your headset, Mitch talked, “Ok kid. We’re going to do a couple of laps in Vegas to get you used to the layout. How does that sound?” 

You replied, “Sounds good Mitch. Just so you know, I have a borderline photographic memory, so I think I can have it memorized by the first lap” There was a reason for your dominance on the F2 tracks. Tiny details that people might forget after a lap were always noticed by you. Because of your communication with the team, you were able to overcome things that sent drivers into the barriers. 

“Sounds good. Ok, starting the first lap, stand by.” 

You inhaled and exhaled before pressing on the pedals. It was definitely harder than an F2 car, but you could manage. Taking things slowly, you took your time to get the layout of the track and how it felt. You were able to communicate a few things with Mitch as you leisurely drove around. After about 7-10 laps of just driver, Mitch told you to line the car up with the animated P1 spot. 

What you didn’t know, was that the rest of the crew, including Christian had gathered around to see how you did. Vito stood with bated breath. He knew you could do it. 

From you headset came, “This is ‘for real’ now kid. Let’s set an official lap time for the simulator.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You wanted to mock salute, but you needed to focus. You shifted down in your seat to make yourself smaller. 

Once the animated lights changed green, your pretend tires spun as the car accelerated at an amazing speed. You weren’t expecting it but you accepted it with open arms. This is what you were meant to do. 

You eyes stayed laser focused on the track as you went around the first corner. This track definitely had a lot of straights, and you knew that the track was going to be colder than normal. You commanded the car with excellence. You hadn’t even realized that you had already gone around the track. 

Christian leaned over to Vito, “Where’d you find this kid?” 

Vito could only smile and shrug his shoulders. 

You were pulled out of your mindset when Mitch spoke in the headset, “And that is an excellent time of 1 minute and 32 point 799 seconds. Well done kid.” You could practically hear her smile, which made you smile in return. 

“Do I need to go another time?” you asked as you taxied the “car” around the circuit. 

“That’s all for today. I think you need to go with your manager for the suit fitting.” 

“Thanks Mitch.” 

“No problem kid.” 

You parked the pretend car and looked up at the time and smiled. A click caught your attention as a photographer had his camera to his face. He sheepishly smiled as he brought the camera down. 

“Could you send me that?” you asked him as you unbuckled the seatbelts. He nodded and walked away. As you climbed down out of the sim, you finally noticed the crowd. You averted your eyes as you walked over to Vito and Christian. 

“Nice to see you again Mr. Horner,” you said as Vito passed you a water bottle, which you chugged gratefully. 

“Mega job there kid,” he paused, “I can call you that right?” You never would have thought that the great Christian Horner would be hesitant about things like that. 

You let out a little laugh, “Yes sir. Seems like it sticks with me wherever I end up.” You poked Vito in the side. The three of you talked for a bit. Things about the upcoming schedule were discussed before you had a question. 

“Am I meeting Max and Checo at Vegas, or will I meet them before?” 

Christian brought his hand to his chin. “I think we’re going to fly you down on Tuesday and we can all go out to eat.”

“Does, um, Max know yet?” You really didn’t want him to meet you for the first time and just then find out that you were going to be his teammate. Your worries must have shown on your face as Christian put his hand on your shoulder. 

“He already knows. He knows what it’s like, being young and all.” 

“And he doesn’t care that I’m…” you trailed off, leaving the words unspoken. 

Christian gave you a sympathetic look. “Kid, he’s eager to meet you. The guy likes a challenge and I think he’s ready for a new dynamic.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Ok, thank you.” 

“No problem kid. I think though that you are needed in room 3A for a suit fitting.” He pointed in the direction of the room. 

You thanked him and walked over to the door, with a new found confidence you didn’t know you had. 

Opening the door, you were met with another man and a woman. 

“Hey kid. You ready for your fitting?” the woman asked. 

“I was born ready.” 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @alwaysboredsworld

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #alex albon x reader

[starrayblogs]

Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: AHH, HAPPY NEW YEARS/EVE EVERYONE! i decided to get this chapter finish, so you can start off the new year with your favorite emo troll :3 hehe, anyway have a fun read! likes/reblogs are appreciated, and asks are welcomed

tags: @brights-place @crowleysthings

✩ previous chapter

vi. The Energy Shifting

You watch Floyd tune his guitar to his satisfaction while you sit on the floor, holding your guitar in front of you. He runs through the strings for the final time before smiling and settling down in front of you. 

“Sorry that took a while.” He says.

“No worries, I know how it is.” You chuckles. “Wanna go first?” You tilt your head to his guitar, gesturing for him to play.

“You don’t want to?” He raises a brow and gives a sided smile. 

“Sly pop troll.” You comment, smirking a bit and squinting your eyes. “What do I get?” You lean back.

“Hmm… Let’s play a game. For every song that we play, we get to ask each other a question.” Floyd smiles, and you hum. You position your fingers on the strings of a song you’re already thinking of.

You look back up to him, meeting his eyes with a relaxed smirk, your eyes half-lidded as you let out a short laugh. “I hope you have a lot of songs ready, Cotton Candy.” You don’t catch his eyes widening and blinking at your comment. You play the opening riff to one of your favorite rock songs for a bit before ending and looking at him again.

He claps for a bit, and you playfully bow your head. “Ask away.” He leans back, his body supported by his bed behind him. 

“Hmm…” You tap the body of your guitar gently as you think before a question comes up. “Oh, what was your role in the band?” You ask, adjusting so that you're leaning your elbows on the side of your guitar.

“Oh, that’s…” He chuckles, bashfully scratching the back of his head as his eyes avert you. “I was the sensitive one in the band.” He looks back at you with a shy smile, the curve reaching his eyes slightly.

“Shut up…” You snicker, leaning a bit forward. “You were the emo one?”

“Hey, one song, one question.” Floyd points, laughing lightly as you raise your hands in surrender.

“You’re right.” You say, but one of your raised hands twists at the wrist to face him. “Then, I believe it’s your turn.” You watch as he sits up straight as your hands return to your guitar, his hands on his as well.

When his hands are in position, he glances up at you briefly before smiling and beginning to play a song. When he sings lyrics, it takes you back a bit, but it physically brings you forward in hopes of hearing him as clearly as possible (you’re psyching yourself, come on).

His voice is soft, and the song he sings is different from the ones you’ve heard from Brozone. You can tell he’s only singing the chorus because of how short his performance is, but it excites you for more later.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to be singing.” You mumble, your chest light when your eyes meet again.

“I just prefer to, but you don’t have to.” He replies, chuckling softly.

“Is that a Brozone song?” You ask, tilting your head slightly but he shakes his head as he chuckles again.

“You don’t play fair, huh?” He smirks slightly and your eyes widen a bit, your cheeks tinting embarrassingly. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You wave a dismissive hand, clearing your throat with a fist.

“Are rock trolls really as edgy as they appear?” You snort at his question, quickly shaking your head with a sided grin.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You reply, not directly answering the question.

“Come on, that’s not an answer.” Floyd pries. You hum, your face softening when you meet his eyes, and you see how they were waiting for you to speak.

“No, not really. If anything, we’re actually pretty lazy.” You run a hand through your hair. “To you, it looks cool, edgy,” you explain. “But we feel the same things as every other troll, we’re just a little more rough up front.” You shrug your shoulders, preparing your fingers to play another song.

“Hm…” Floyd hums. “It’s a good thing that you’re the first rock troll I know. You don’t seem too rough around the edges.” Your head looks up from the guitar at his comment, raising a brow.

“Am I not cool to you, Cotton Candy?” You tilt your head.

“You are cool. I’m just saying that…” He pauses as he tries to properly form his thoughts. “I think that you’re less rough side, is just as interesting as the rest of you.”

You blink, shying your eyes away from him to the guitar. You can feel your cheeks slightly warm up as you reply, “Thanks…” You reply softly. “You’re interesting too.” You return the compliment before beginning to play a new song.

When you finish and lock eyes with his again, he nods his head as a gesture to you to ask your question. “That song you sang… Did you write that?” You ask, smiling a bit. 

He chuckles. “It’s one of my many, yes.”

“I liked it. Your voice suits the song.” You say, watching him subtly place a hand on his throat for a moment as he chuckles.

“Thank you… I wrote a lot when I went on a solo career.” He follows, and your ears perk up. Now you know what to ask next. “My turn,” he says, playing another one of his songs on the guitar, his voice calm. 

You clap similarly to how he clapped for you earlier once he was finished, chuckling.

“You said you liked my song. Do you really not enjoy pop songs anymore?” Your smile falters as your eyes flutter a bit, turning your eyes to the floor. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it.” He quickly reassures, and you glance at him with a weak, sided smile before closing yor eyes.

You take a breath in. “It’s fine, I was just surprised by your question.” You explain, running a thumb over a string on your electric guitar. “To answer, I don’t sing pop anymore. I’m not saying I can’t, maybe I still can, but you know…” You shrug a shoulder. “It’s easier for me to express myself with rock music now, but I’m not against other genres. I still enjoy some pop songs, actually.” You chuckle.

“Really?” Floyd tilts his head and you tut him.

“One song, one question.” You remind him of his rules and he blinks. He chuckles and watches you position your hands to play another song. “Can’t seem to follow your own rules, hm?” You smirk before glancing down to focus on the song you’re playing.

“I like that one.” Floyd comments when you finish the riff.

You smile before relaxing your grip on your guitar to ask your question. “So, you mentioned having a solo career? What happened to being in a band?” You tilt your head and Floyd’s face noticeably darkens.

His brows furrow, and his lip bites itself. He hides his eye underneath his bang again, tightly gripping the guitar. Your face softens in worry.

“Floyd? Sorry, did I..? You don’t have to answer that one if you don’t want to…” Your voice is unsure as your hand comes toward him to comfort him, but it stops mid air. You flinch it back when he inhales deeply and his face softens, raising a hand.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know… but I don’t think I can answer that yet. Maybe next time.” Floyd gives you a smile, relaxing his grip on the guitar. You frown, and he notices it. “It’s okay, really.”

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” You murmur, shifting to get ready to stand up. “I can go if-”

“No, please.” Floyd reaches out to you and you stiffen. “Stay.” He tells you, placing a hand on the side of your guitar to keep you where you were. “Really, it’s okay. You didn’t mean it, don’t be sorry.” He says softly, moving his bangs to show the sincerity in his eyes. There’s light in them—light that hopes you'll take his word.

You meet his eyes, but avert them to his hand on your guitar. You blink, taking a moment to think. When you look up again, his eyes never waver with that glint. “Okay…” You murmur, and his face brightens until it reaches his eyes.

“You can ask me another question.” Floyd pulls his hand away from your guitar, nudging his head gently as he leans back with a smile. 

You blink as you try to think about another question. “What do you think of your brothers?” You ask, what you think is, a safe question. 

“They’re the best brothers anyone could ask for.” Floyd chuckles. “We’ve had our bumpy moments, but I’m glad to finally be with them again.” He taps on his guitar lightly, and the way he answers leaves you more curious.

Your face relaxes at his smile while he thinks of his brothers. “Do you still want to play?” You ask softly.

“I’m okay if you’re okay.” You nod your head at his reply and he smiles a bit wider as he gets ready for another song. He plays a quick chorus, but his voice helps you further relax again. You stare at each other for a bit before Floyd asks his question, “Do…” He hesitates a moment. “Do you want to-”

“Floyd, are you in there?” Poppy interrupts him, asking if he’s seen you around. “It’s getting late and Barb wants to say goodbye before she goes back!” 

You both turn to the direction of her voice before lowly getting up, Floyd opening the door to his pod to reveal the both of you inside. Outside were Poppy, Viva, Barb, and Floyd’s brothers on a branch right outside the pod.

“There you are! I was worried you got glitter bombed somewhere.” Barb is the first one to speak up, and you snicker, stepping out of Floyd’s pod to walk to her. “So..?” She smirks, crossing her arms and tilting her head. 

You squint your eyes and cock your head to the side. “Not tonight, Barb.” She raises her hands in surrender, and you shake your head with a short laugh.

“Enjoy your weekend, alright? I’ll see you soon.” Barb holds out her fist, and you bump it with yours. “Don’t rock too hard without me.” She winks, nudging you with her elbow which makes you groan, and her laugh.

“You make me not want to go back after the weekend.” You sarcastically remark, crossing your arms.

“I’m sure you’d enjoy that extended time, huh?” She teases, and you’re blushing now. 

“Get home safe, Barb.” You grit through a smile, waving her goodbye. She laughs one last time as she walks away, waving at you. When she jumps down the tree, you stop waving and keep an eye on her until she’s out of sight.

“Yay, another slumber party!” Viva exclaims, rushing to pick you up in a hug. You smile, trying to hug her back as best you can. “We’ll make peppermint candy necklaces tonight.” She whispers as she sets you down.

“That sounds great, Veev.” You smile. 

“Were you guys just in here the whole time?” Bruce tilts his head and raises a brow.

You turn your head away; your blush hasn’t yet faded from Barb’s teasing. “We were just getting to know each other more.” Floyd answers for the both of you, stepping forward with a smile.

“Woah, is that a new guitar?” Clay points out his guitar, your gift, with a surprised grin. “Flexin’ that talent, I see, I see.” He nods approvingly, pursing his lips.

“It was a gift.” He glances to you, and you catch his gaze for a moment. The rest of them look amongst each other and connect the dots, Poppy and Viva giggling amongst themselves.

“Well, we better get some shut eye so we can wake up early and get straight to the fun tomorrow!” Poppy announces, receiving agreements from all over the group. 

“You sleepin’ with us in the bunker tonight, Floyd?” Clay asks, catching his younger brother’s attention. The rest of his brothers had begun walking in the direction of Branch’s bunker.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll catch up in a bit.” Floyd replies, waving his hand to indicate that Clay and the rest of his brothers can go on ahead. Clay nods, making his way down the tree to catch up with his brothers.

“Wanna start our sleepover?” Viva turns to you with a grin. When your arms unfurl with a smile to answer, but Floyd speaks up again, rather hurriedly.

“Actually, I just need to ask a question if it’s okay.” He says, stepping next to you. The sisters’ eyes widen at his actions.

“Oh, that’s totally okay!” Viva replies, smiling and slipping her hand around Poppy’s arm as she looks at you. “We’ll be waiting at the pod, okay?”

“Oh…” You blink repeatedly, confused. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you guys there.” You wave each other goodbye before looking to Floyd. You remember that he didn’t finish his question earlier. “Oh, you got interrupted by Poppy, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“What is it that you were gonna ask?” You turn to face him, curious.

You watch as he breathes in deeply, looking down at his feet before looking back to you. “Remember how I said that you’re less rough side is interesting?” You nod your head slowly, and he continues. “I think that everything about you is interesting, and I was hoping to get to know you better.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, your hand coming up to hold your arm.

“I was gonna ask…” He takes another deep breath. “Do you want to spend tomorrow together?”

You blink as your eyes widen. “What? Like… just the two of us?” You ask, and he nods with a nervous look in his eye.

“If it’s okay with you.” He smiles softly, but there’s still a nervous glint in his eyes.

You take a moment to think, your heart racing in your chest. Your blush has reached to the tips of your ears at the thought of spending the weekend with Floyd. You want to, but there’s a part inside of you that’s saying this is dangerous, that this good thing will be taken away from you. But you remember Barb’s words, and let that fear subside and hope emerge. You want this. So…

“Okay… I’d like that, Cotton Candy.” You smile softly, and the light in his eye highlights how bright his entire face morphs at your reply. You’re both happy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#✩ starraywrites #✩ starraywrites nsrh #✩ starraywrites not so rock hearted #✩ starraywrites trolls band together #✩ starraywrites trolls #trolls #trolls band together #trolls floyd #floyd trolls #trolls floyd x reader #floyd x reader #HAPPY NEW YEAR #I PULLED THIS OUT OF ME BCOZ I FELT BAD I COULDNT GIVE U GUYS FLOYD CONTENT B4 THE NEW YEAR #AND U FLOYD ENJOYERS DESERVE IT

[ioniansunsets]

we need more Heartsteel!Kayn scenarios with f!reader!!!

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Seeing You in the Audience ✖

✖ Word Count: 701

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I GOT YOU ANON. This is a continuation from the previous ask about Kayn here. Hope its still just as cute.

----

After that night you never heard that song again, Kayn promised it was still in the works. That he would let you hear it when it was done and no earlier. You teased him of course, weeks went by you almost forgot about it. If he said you would hear it when it was time then you'd leave the topic alone till then.

Then time came for his small solo concert, a nice weekend night at a local stage, you were in the mosh pits, right in front, cheering and screaming. Even if you were his partner first, you were his number one fan second. You were here to support him. As you cheered, Kayn said he was introducing a new song! How exciting!

Wait...a new song? The new song?!

You cheer harder, Kayn glances at you, as his eyes meet yours he gives the crowd his biggest cocky grin sending all his fans into a frenzy. Blowing the crowd (you) a kiss, he laughs.

" This one is for all my fans, what is this? A love song? From me? Hell yeah. You guys know this is special."

The screams in the crowd were almost deafening. Your face already tinged pink knowing this was going to be about you, the way his eyes stayed watched you as he spoke about how the song was special. Your heart flutters. As you clutched your purple lightstick, you cheered on, excited for the theatrics.

The lights darkened again, a sick guitar solo from Kayn as the backing track plays. The tune so familiar, yet, he did keep working on it so it was different. It was ethereal. The music, the lights, the way you watched him move on stage. His fingers clutched tight around his guitar pick as he plays the riff you remember him humming.

The crowd faded away slowly, all you could hear was his voice and the music from the stage. Your heart thumped away from the adrenaline of the concert, and from the way he would sneak glances at you during the rap verse, trying to see if you were impressed. It was about you. This really was your song! You blush harder as you see Kayn's soft smile while he sings the final chorus, an expression that rarely appears. The crowd going wild again seeing him this way. But for you, you were silent, smiling hard, a warm feeling in your chest. It was an experience like no other, never had he made you feel this way from the stage. The rest of the concert went by smoothly, you had fun cheering him on but the memory of his sweet, soft smile. You would never forget this.

As the concert ends you book it. Straight to his dresser room. Shouting for him excitedly as you burst in. There he is! Your one and only! Your Rockstar!

" Hello Darling~ Did you like it, I worked hard on it after all. First time fully writing both the lyrics and music actually. I think I did well."

Kayn chuckles, an arrogant look on his face as he gives you cheeky smile. He holds his arms open for you, inviting you in for a hug. As you come in, arms around him, he picks you up and spins you before putting you back down. You praise him, telling him how amazing his performance was, how you could feel him really put his heart and soul into this one. How you had what you swear was the best concert experience of your life.

" Of course. It's a gift you know? Just for you~ An anniversary present I'd say."

He leans down, holding your face gently as his lips press against yours. His rings so deliciously cold against your flushed cheeks. A passionate kiss coming from him, his free hand supporting you by the waist, holding you against him before he lets you go. Another one of his signature charming smiles on his face could be seen as you open your eyes. Ah, you really were his biggest fan, your heart swells with love for him. Kayn runs his fingers through your hair before holding you face lightly once again.

" I love you y/n..."

#Im shy i love kayn i want him to hold me too #Anon Answer #Heartsteel!Kayn #Shieda Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn x Reader #Kayn LoL #Kayn League #KaynLeague #im shy im shy its so good #i went a little extra writing about his hands the discord dp really had a grip on me #thanks for supporting me in my delulu you guys #SCENARIO #League of Legends Scenarios

[ofstarsandvibranium]

The Music In Me

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: You and the AFC Richmond team go to a karaoke bar to celebrate a win.

A/N: phil dunster, pls serenade me. i beg.

Your relationship with Jamie was fairly new. You were a photographer that Keeley hired to do some campaign shots of the team. Jamie made you laugh when it was time for his shots and the rest is history.

You two were definitely still in the honeymoon phase of the relationship. Something new and exciting. You thought being with a hotshot like Jamie would be difficult, with his fame and notoriety, but it wasn't. It was the complete opposite. He made things so easy. You enjoyed his company, he made you laugh, was considerate of your feelings. You felt seen and heard by him.

You were smitten and everyone can tell he felt the same.

"Cheers!" you holler with the Richmond boys, clinking your shot glasses and beers together. Jamie was the only one drinking water now, since Roy gave him a limit of two beers.

You down your shot and wince. Jamie snickers, "Strong?" he asks, offering you his water.

"Very," you gulp some of it down and hand it back to him, "Think I'm done for shots tonight."

Jamie nods, "Probably best. Don't want you completely plastered when we go up there," he points to the stage where Dani is getting ready to sing his song.

You look at him in surprise, "You signed us up?"

He nods, "Yup. I need everyone to know that me girl's got a voice of an angel."

You snort, "Think you're exaggerating a bit, babes, but it's fine. What song did you pick?"

He smirks at you, "You'll see."

_________________

You, Jamie, and the guys burst into hollers and whoops as Sam and Bumbercatch hop down from the stage after their rendition of "No Scrubs".

The emcee walks up and speaks into the mic, "Wow! That was surprisingly really well done. Anyway, next up we have," she pauses to look at the clipboard of names, "Jamie and Y/N!"

The boys are no cheering for you and Jamie as you stand and make your way to the stage. Jamie hops up first, offering his hand out to you to help you onto the platform.

You shyly smile at him as he guides you to one mic stand and he stands at the other. There's a a screen at the corner of the stage so you can see the words "Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran" appear.

You smile widely at Jamie and he gives you a wink. He knows you love to listen to Taylor Swift.

The acoustic guitar rang out from the speakers and the screen told you to get ready to sing in 3..2...1.

All I knew this morning when I woke Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before And all I've seen since 18 hours ago Is green eyes and freckles And your smile in the back of my mind making me feel like

You turn to Jamie smiling from ear to ear and he's looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky.

I just wanna know you better Know you better, know you better now I just wanna know you better Know you better, know you better now

Jamie joins in and takes you a bit off guard,

I just wanna know you better Know you better, know you better now I just want to know you, know you, know you

The both of you go into the chorus and you stare at Jamie wide-eyed because you didn't know he sings so well. Sure you've heard him singing under his breath or humming, but never so loud and confident like this.

Then he goes into the next few lines and you just stare at him in awe. He moves closer to you, having you face him while he sings. He knows this song by heart because not once has he glanced at the screen as he serenades you. You're caught up in him that you forget to sing, jumping back into the chorus with him.

You two continue this song and dance. He twirls you around while singing with you and you do your best to keep up. Your heart and stomach are fluttering in the best way as he pulls you in as you both finish the last line of the song

All I know since yesterday Is everything has changed

The guys are absolutely losing their minds. It's clear none of them knew that Jamie could sing.

Jamie hops down from the stage, offering his hand again as you jump down as well. He kisses your temple and wraps and arm around your waist, guiding you back to the group while everyone applauds.

As you two reach them, the guys are patting you and Jamie on the shoulders.

"Bruv, how come you didn't tell us you can sing?!" Isaac asks in disbelief.

Jamie shrugs, "Not really important in football, is it?"

"Still. You got mad talent," Isaac says.

Dani chimes in, "A voice of an angel!"

You snort and nudge Jamie, "So much for showing me off. You took my spotlight," you say jokingly.

Jamie winces, "Sorry, babe."

You chuckle, shaking your head, "No, no it's fine. Really. I'm more upset at the fact you never sang around me like that before. You know you definitely have to sing more around me now, right?"

He grins at you, "Whatever you want, love," he kisses your cheek.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine

[coconutdays]

Cry Baby

Eren Jeager x reader one shot

Synopsis: The hot guy who looks like a picture perfect bad boy keeps popping up at every party you go to and you don't know what to do when he asks for your number like the idiot you are

Warnings: Some suggestive material, mostly fluff

Word count: 2.5k!

Loosely based on this song

There's this guy you keep seeing at every party you go to and that's saying something since you don't go out too often, but then again you guys probably have the same cirlcle of friends.

He's hot though and you can never leave these parties without having made eye contact with him at least once due to his hard stares.

Sometimes he even plays the guitar at these parties and he's caught you staring at him when he gets into a certain chorus more than once.

He has a strong presence, his friends are always yelling his name, more so his last name, and he just seems confident in himself because he dresses like a slut.

Yea, a slut.

The first time you saw him, he was wearing these tight denim jeans, a white wife beater, and a black leather jacket. It wouldn't have been so hot if he didn't a wear a ring on almost every finger of his and have his hair up in a messy bun that let stray pieces of his chocolate colored hair frame his annoyingly hot face.

You couldn't forget about the necklace too.

That stupid key that dangled from his neck never failed to make you stare at his chest, which oh so temptingly rose and fell everytime he let out a laugh with his friends.

Right now though, he was wearing a these loose fitting faded green pants and a regular black tshirt that didn't seem so regular when his arms were begging to break free from the short sleeves.

It gave you a perfect view of all the tattoos littering his arms even if you had always wanted to see what was hiding on his chest considering the small blot of ink that always peeked out whenever he wore wife beaters.

No.

You were here to hang out with your friends and he looks like he breaks hearts for fun. Besides, you should enjoy the music more. Whoever had the aux cord at these parties always played the best music and your favorite song never failed to make an appearance, which just so happened to be now.

"Staring at Eren again?" Your best friend giggled.

"I like eye candy." You responded before shaking your head, "He'd break my heart though so I won't bother to look anymore."

Your friend hummed in response before her eyes widened for a bit the moment she got a glimpse behind you.

"Good luck y/n"

"What." You leaned forward to catch her words again.

Did she just wish me good luck? Why?

A shadow from behind you that made the gold in your bracelet gleam less caught your attention and made you turn around.

"Hey"

Eren stood there before you, his hands in his pockets, his posture as tall as ever as he kept your eyes locked with his.

You did not want to be played with tonight and although you found his heart breaker appearance hot as hell, you wouldn't risk your your own for it.

You looked at him like a mother looks at her child when they've interrupted her conversation and smiled, "Hi."

It had the same tone structure as a 'can I help you?'

He caught on to your slight guard, but chose to still speak to you.

"I'm Eren."

"I've heard."

He held back a small laugh. He didn't want you to think he was being a jerk.

"And I've heard yours is y/n."

"Is that the only thing you've heard?"

"I asked someone a couple parties ago," He admitted, a toothy smile splitting his mouth apart dashingly, especially due to his sharp canines, "but only managed to get your name."

"Glad they gave you the right answer." You politely nodded, not wanting to seem a total bitch.

Eren huffed at your facade a little, shaking his head because of how cute he thought it was when you were literally oogling at him moments ago.

"Listen y/n."

"I'm listening Eren."

There you went with that mother-like tone again. It crossed his mind how much he wanted to fuck that attitude out of you, but he'd save that for another time.

He had to win you over first if he'd ever to get to do that.

He chuckled, "I think you're pretty and I'm trying to get your number so I can take you out on a date."

"If that's fine with you." He added politely, confidence never wavering which was annoying.

His confidence annoyed you because it wasn't cocky. His confidence was simply him being comfortable with himself, and damn him because it made him harder to resist.

You really wanted to give him your number...

At this point it was obvious to the both of you that you were looking for an excuse to say no. You didn't even try to hide it anymore with that childish squint of your eyes at him and it made him laugh.

You let out a sigh of defeat and to Eren that could only mean one thing-

"You hear this song?" You pointed at the ceiling

Eren cocked his head to the side in confusion, "Yes?"

"If you learn this entire song on the guitar I'll give you my number."

Your cheeks were kinda puffed in self assurance, you thought you had given him an almost impossible challenge, which may seem like it to you but he wouldn't let you know that. It was cute.

"You want me to learn Cry Baby by The Neighbourhood, y/n."

You nodded like a smartass at his clarification and his knees almost buckled at how so adorable you were that he could just eat you up.

In approval, Eren raised up his hands as he nodded too.

"Fine. Just be ready to give me your number at the next party."

You gave him that kidish doubtful look of yours again before agreeing, "Okay, Eren."

As he shook his head with a smirk on his face, Eren turned around and went walking back to his friends just as you turned to look back at your best friend.

She was giving you a look of 'really?'

It was a tell tale sign she was about to bully you.

"y/n he's going to do it."

She leaned over to smack your arm, "You should have just given him your number dumbass."

You pouted as you soothed your arm, "Hey! I just wanna see some effort! Besides I think he'll forget and that's gonna say enough."

She rolled her eyes at you, "He literally stares at you every single time we see him. He won't forget."

Like a child, you crossed your arms over each other and let out a huff, "We'll see then."

You didn't see Eren again that night and like a fool you ignored the fact that it bummed you out. It wasn't necessary to stare at his neck whenever he threw his head back to laugh or watch the way his arms strained whenever he tried to put his hair up.

At least that's what you told yourself.

The new week came and passed by until the streets lit up again in the vodka, music, and lust of the weekend and you hadn't really thought about Eren. You remembered his promise to you when you were just about finished with your makeup and smacked your lips together while observing the application of your lipgloss.

He probably forgot about his promise the day after.

Nonetheless, you put your pretty heels on and walked right into that party with your best friend and this time you weren't going to lie to yourself when you looked around the room for that pretty brunette.

You couldn't find him.

Whatever, less heart break for you.

You dragged your best friend to the rest of your friends that would also attend the party. There was some commotion in the groupchat about somebody's girlfriend finding out their ex was talking to their mom's friend and the information was too juicy to let go of.

"And then my mom sent me a screenshot of this guy in her friend's comments talking about some-"

The conversation went in through one ear and out the other when that song started playing a little too finely through the party stereos.

Yeah, that song.

Your ears perked up and the electric guitar sounded too crisp to just be coming from the aux cord of a spotify playlist.

You looked around the room, following a particularly long wire that was connected to the stereo. You looked past plenty of heels, feet, and random shoes until you saw a pretty black guitar at the hands of him.

Eren.

He was completely invested in the guitar on his lap, fingers picking and choosing what strings to play and you were glad because you wouldn't be able to handle eye contact with him right now if he looked up.

"Told you." Your best friend giggled into your ear as she flicked your forehead gently.

Whenever Eren played the guitar, it was normal for a little bit of people to gather to look. It wasn't new for a guy to play the guitar at parties, especially him, but it was still interesting to see.

Your best friend lifted you up by grabbing your hand

"Gotta live up to your promise." She sang to you teasingly as she took you near him.

You whined, "Can we at least sit, I don't wanna stand there like a weirdo."

She shook her head, "Fine, but we'll sit where he can see you."

You nodded in dramatic defeat before she added, "And you better be ready to give him your number."

"Yes ma'am."

In all honesty, you were too shocked that he actually learned the song to let the giddy feelings register in your stomach on time, so you resorted to being whiny about it.

Except,

it registered when you sat down and he was already looking at you.

The rest of the four minutes that passed by were painful, they were comprised of the knowing looks Eren sent your way, you shuffling in your seat, and the actual part of you that was trying to enjoy the way he was playing the guitar for you.

They were painful but they passed by pretty fast, a little too fast in your scared and flustered opinion.

You watched Eren hand his electric guitar over to an eager friend who was probably gonna take a chance to play a song on it and saw this quick opportunity to voice your sheepishness to your friend.

"I think-"

Your best friend was no where in sight. She wasn't even sitting next to you anymore.

When did she leave you here?

You were going to kick her-

"My number?"

A fearful gulp made its way down your throat as you looked up at the handsome figure before you.

Eren cheekily had his phone out in your direction, his screen already lit in the light of his keypad.

You took the phone from him rather roughly in your opinion and bit back your smile as you typed those ten numbers on his phone and added your name to its contact.

Eren did not in fact think you took the phone from him roughly and would have compared the sight to a baby taking back its candy, but he feared telling you would ruffle your feathers. And he says ruffle your feathers cause you remind him of a sparrow, tiny but always mad for no reason.

And he loved it.

He sat down next to you when you finished typing your name and held out his phone for him to take back, which he did.

"Someone's surprised I learned a song for her." He sang, just as teasingly as your best friend did to you just moments ago.

Chills ran up your spine at the blatant mention of him doing something for you.

"So what if I am." You huffed a little, unaware of the way you turned your body to face him.

But Eren was quite aware, so he did it too.

"I'll learn more if you want me to." He offered, his hand painfully close to yours.

You turned your face away from him bashfully to hide the effect he had on you which only made it worse because he took it as an opportunity to close the distance between your faces a little more.

"How does that sound hm pretty girl?"

His breath was hot on your skin, even reaching your neck.

Mustering the courage, you turned back to look at him, even though any movement could cause you to kiss him due to the close to nonexistent distance between the two of you.

"It sounds nice." You peeped quietly

Eren's eyes were glazed as he observed you, he wouldn't even be surprised if somebody said he had stars in his eyes.

"Not so bratty now huh." He laughed warmly in tenderness at your state before him now.

Unable to stand his stare on you again, you looked down at both of your hands, fingertips touching.

You danced your fingers around over his hand, feeling the contrast of his cool rings against the warmth of his fingers before you set your hand on top of his.

"I'm giving you a million more songs to learn by the way." You murmured.

Eren shifted so he could have his face in front of yours again and there again came the intensity of his lips oh so close to yours and the unavoidable glimpses towards each other's mouths the both of you would give.

"I'll learn one for every date you let me take you on." He breathed in assurance

Your brain was foggy at how alluring he was

"I like the way you play the guitar." You admitted

And Eren's pants tightened at the way your eyes fluttered up at him when you said that.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." You nodded, unaware yet again of the way you were pushing yourself onto him leaving Eren to yet again restrain himself from pouncing on you and scaring you away.

"Stop teasing me." He murmured, eyes on your lips.

"I'm not teasing you." You whined a little, doing that innocent thing with your eyes again and Eren pleaded with himself for more restraint.

"Fuck."He let out

You gave into the tension and started by giving his lips a soft peck to test the waters. That peck let Eren put his other hand on the back of your neck and it let you go back in again for another peck, except he kept you in place to actually kiss you.

His warmth completely melted into you as he needily moved his mouth across yours and left you growing more and more needy for him.

If it wasn't for everyone near the both of you, he would have continued, but your sake and his, he agonizingly let go of you.

"I think your friend is waiting for you." He swallowed on nothing, a bright red painting his cheeks.

And as you let your best friend take you away with a pout on your face, he checked his phone to make sure you left your number in there.

And you did.

y/n

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren fluff #aot #eren x fem!reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #shingeki no kyoujin eren #snk #eren jeager fluff #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager fluff #eren jeager x you

[hellfirenacht]

Plus One Chapter 2

Summary: Once upon a time, you made a deal with the school freak that if he ever got famous then he'd invite you to be his plus one at a red carpet event. Now a decade later an invite shows up at your house asking you to be the +1 to Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin. (1)

Tags: modern!au, Eddie and Reader are in their late 20's/early 30's after the deal is made. Rockstar!Eddie. Friends to strangers to friends to lovers, references to Flight of Icarus characters. Eventual smut. No use of y/n, reader description is as vague as possible

No beta, we die like Jason Carver.

Eddie Munson

The name echoed in your mind for the rest of the day, bouncing around and trying to connect a name with a face the whole time you were at work. Of course this was the one day that you had forgotten to charge your phone, and were stuck in an endless loop of trying to figure out who it was.

Without your phone you were stuck listening to the radio on the way home. You flipped through the different stations, trying to find any channel that was playing music and not on a commercial break. The screech of an electric guitar gave you pause, giving the song a good five seconds to impress you before you continued your channel surfing.

The sting of the guitar rocked through your car and penetrated your brain in a way that felt electric. In five seconds you had removed your hand from the radio dial and were focused on driving again. The roads were empty this late at night, allowing you some extra room in your mind to enjoy the song. Vocals came in, scratching your brain in a pleasant way as you caught the final chorus before it faded out and the DJ came back on.

“And that was Corroded Coffin with their latest single Storm.” Announced the DJ, and you nearly slammed on the breaks from shock.

Corroded Coffin. The invitation. Okay, so it had to be a joke, right? There was no way that the letter that had appeared in your mailbox was really addressed to you from them.

It was only by pure luck that you were able to speed home without any cops pulling you over. You rushed into your apartment and grabbed the invitation that had been left on your counter before shoving your charge cable into your phone.

When it didn’t turn on right away you hurried over to your laptop and opened it, thankful that there was no delay. You made quick work of typing in ‘Eddie Munson’ and ‘Corroded Coffin’ into the search bar.

The results were instantaneous as pictures of a band popped up, as well as a flood of articles about the band’s latest goings on. You scanned the results and pulled up the latest one about how the band had been nominated for Best Metal Album at this year's Hellfire Awards. You quickly learned that the Hellfire Awards were a pretty big deal in the alternative music scene as everything was decided by the fans rather than a panel of industry judges.

You pulled up another article focused on Eddie himself and you stared at the picture as you started to remember who this man was. You got up and went to your closet, haphazardly pulling out boxes and bags until you found an old stash of high school memorabilia that you never looked at but never could bring yourself to toss.

At the bottom of the box was the thick yearbook from your graduating year. You flipped through it quickly to the Senior photos, singing the alphabet song in your mind as you made your way to the M’s for-

Eddie Munson. (insert funny senior quote here)

You stared at the picture for a good long while as you tried to comprehend what was actually happening. You brought the book to your laptop again, comparing the pictures of the Rock God on your screen to the awkwardly smiling kid in the photo. Yes, that was definitely him. He hadn’t changed much physically, his hair was still long and wavy and he still had bright and expressive brown eyes.

Memories began seeping in, as you thought back to the few weeks before high school ended. You flipped to the front cover of the book now, scanning the many signatures of long forgotten friends and the few of those you still talked to. There in the corner of the page was a message in scratchy handwriting, as if the pen had been refusing to work.

See you when I’m famous! Eddie Munson

You grabbed the invitation again.

A deal’s a deal.

His handwriting was somehow worse. Didn’t he have to write his autograph a million times a day? How was it worse? But it was still the same, and you found yourself laughing. Actually, you were in damn near hysterics as you pressed your face against your hands. This had to be a joke, right? One of your friends realized that someone that you both went to school with was famous, and had made this elaborate invitation to...

A deal’s a deal.

And if you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.

You set the yearbook aside, sliding the invitation safely inside. Turning back to the computer, you started looking through Corroded Coffin’s past accomplishments; they'd been on the scene for a few years now, but had exploded in popularity in the past year and a half. They’d even played in Indianapolis just a few months ago and you were none the wiser.

That night was spent in a spiral of reading over articles, and (admittedly) stalking social media. Each of the band members had their own socials combined with the main Corroded Coffin page. You also skimmed the socials for WR Records, but didn’t find much interesting other than tour dates and updates on the other artists under the label. Oh, and you now knew that Eddie was about two years older than you. Huh.

The band was... chaotic. They posted a lot of videos behind the scenes, of them playing pranks on each other, lip syncing to other songs, and there seemed to be a running joke of everyone hiding Gareth’s drumsticks in weird places.

Magazines also seemed to love getting Eddie shirtless, especially tattoo magazines. They also liked him not wearing pants. They liked him in as little clothing as they could legally get away with.

It’s research. You told yourself, attempting to justify it. He has nice tattoos and I just want a good look.

Managing to tear your eyes away from the photos, (and ignoring any warmth you felt in your stomach from them) you found yourself smiling as you turned on their music as you watched years of curated material unfold in front of you in a few hours. Their music was good, really good, and you wondered why you hadn’t heard them until recently.

Oh right, you were stuck on listening to the same couple hundred songs since high school. You really should branch out.

It was really late when you finally forced yourself to close the laptop and go to bed. You laid down and stared at the ceiling, holding the heavy yearbook on your chest thinking back to those last few weeks of school. Some memories were sharper than others. You closed your eyes trying to remember as much as you could. Eddie. An old notebook. A stupid worksheet. His smile. Some were less clear. Prom night. Graduation, forgotten small talk in the hallways.

Your crush.

Your heart jumped in your chest as you remembered that. Oh, right. You had a crush on him for those last few weeks, hadn’t you? You pressed your face to your pillow and let out a groan. Actually, this was no longer today’s problem. This could be tomorrow's problem. You put the yearbook aside and turned off your lamp and went to bed.

---

So as it turns out, tomorrow’s problems do, in fact, become today’s problems. You weren’t very thrilled about this as you read the invitation for the hundredth time over breakfast. How the hell were you even supposed to respond to this invitation? There was no RSVP or return address or phone number!

Maybe it was a prank? But the only other person who would know about that deal you two had made was Eddie right? Or maybe you’d told one of your friends back then? But then why would they just now try a prank?

Your phone buzzed and lit up next to you and you looked it over. A notification from WR RECORDS was blaring at you from your screen. You turned the brightness down on your phone hoping that it would help lessen the shock. It did not.

With shaking hands you fumbled to open the message. It was clearly addressed to you.

“Hello! This is Paige Warner from WR Records reaching out on behalf of Corroded Coffin to confirm that you received the invitation that we sent out for this year's Hellfire Awards.”

You stared at this for a long time. You closed the message and checked the account that it was sent from. It had the official small check that meant it was a verified account. You felt like you were going to be sick.

You re-opened the message, read it again, closed it, checked the account again to make sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, panicked again, set the phone down, did a lap around your house and opened the message again.

This cycle would repeat at least two more times before you finally forced yourself to type a reply.

Which you instantly deleted and opened the message on your laptop instead, as if changing the technology you were viewing it on would somehow make this any different.

Read receipts were on. FUCK.

You googled how to turn them off for this platform. You could not. Double FUCK.

You’d left WR RECORDS on read for going on 45 minutes. Triple FUCK.

“Got it!!”

You sent the message before you could stall any longer. You cringe at the two words. Why did you double up on the exclamation points? Anxiety was spiraling through you at a million miles per hour before another messaged popped up.

“Great! Would you have a moment to talk to me about making arrangements? I have a few moments free right now.”

You hadn’t felt this nervous since you interviewed for your current job.

“Yes, I have time!”

Your answer looked so robotic and generic on the screen, but there was no time to think about that as your laptop screen lit up and started ringing. A video call. WR RECORDS was trying to video call you. This had to be illegal. It had to! You were in your fucking pajamas and WR RECORDS was trying to video call you.

You spent ten seconds trying desperately to make yourself look presentable and threw on your robe over your pjs. At least the robe was clean and didn’t have any holes in it. You tightened it around you as much as you could. Took a deep breath and answered the call.

A woman a few years older than you appeared on screen. She had short dark hair and a face full of freckles. “I’m so sorry for the last minute call.” she said. “I’m Paige Warner, I’m the manager for Corroded Coffin.”

Your throat felt dry as you choked out your name with a nervous smile. Of course you’d left your drink in the kitchen and there was no graceful way to grab it now.

Paige wasn’t here to waste time or make small talk, she jumped right into it. She didn’t even blink at your outfit. “The annual Hellfire Awards will be held a month from now. We are willing to offer you travel expenses and hotel to come down, and the band has also agreed to pay for any hair and make-up as well as an outfit to wear onto the red carpet.”

“Red carpet.” You said dumbly. Wait you were going to- they wanted you to what.

“Yes, Eddie specifically requested that you join him on the red carpet.” Paige said, furrowing her brows. “He said that you would remember your deal.”

“I, uh...”

Paige looked at her watch and you could tell that she was starting to get antsy. “I can have plane tickets and a hotel booked for you by tonight. All I need is for you to sign this agreement and have it sent back to me before 5 pm PST. I’ll have it sent to your email. Now, about your involvement with-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as there was suddenly a lot of background noise as it sounded like people were filing into her office.

“Paige, can you hide the drumsticks this time?” came a voice off screen. “We’re running out of ideas.”

“Jeff, I can’t right now I’m currently talking to-”

“OH! Is that her? Let me see!” Jeff suddenly ran on screen and your eyes nearly popped out of your head at the site of the bass player appearing behind her.

“Hi! You’re Eddie’s friend right?” He smiled wide at you, and all you could do was nod.

Friends? That seemed generous for the situation but it would have been rude to say otherwise.

“Oh shit, I should go get Eddie to say hi!” Jeff said, tossing the drumsticks down onto Paige’s lap and running off.

“Jeff, no!” she called after him but you had a feeling that her protests weren’t going to mean anything. You froze up as the idea of seeing Eddie again started to sink in.

“I’m so sorry for him, they all get excited too easily.” Paige said. “Jeff, I said no I need to finish this call and then I have other work to do! Work on this computer!”

Jeff just appeared again, grabbed the back of her chair and rolled her away with the biggest grin. “You can pretend to be us and post boring updates on our account later. The internet isn’t going anywhere.”

The absurdity of this was not lost on you and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle. This was playing out as if it had happened a hundred times before, and off screen you heard Paige’s exasperated sigh. “Five minutes.” she said firmly.

“Thank you, five” Came the sound of not just Jeff’s voice but another voice.

The sound of another rolling chair echoed through your crappy computer speakers and at first all you could see was the lower torso of a t shirt as someone moved into frame before they sat down in front of the camera.

Eddie Munson. Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson.

Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin.

“Uh, hi.” he said with a wide grin, and a wave and you desperately tried to reconnect the wires in your brain to say hi back.

Last night you’d seen carefully curated pictures of him, making him look untouchable. You’d seen him on stage holding his guitar, looking like a Rock God. You’d seen him spread out over pages of magazines, wearing clothing that was specifically tailored to make him look like, well, like he was better than any normal person. You’d even seen him wearing damn near nothing, covered in tattoos making him damn near look like a porn star.

Now he was sitting across from you (virtually) with his hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, and a faded t shirt with a questionable stain on it. There was unshaven stubble that looked like it didn’t know if it was growing out or if he’d forgotten to shave for the past few days. For five seconds, you felt like you were in high school again, as you finally managed to talk.

“Hey.” you said back. Nailed it.

“So you’re coming right?” Eddie said eagerly, and even with the lower quality of the video call (which was because of your internet, and not Paige’s webcam, you were sure of), you could see the way his large brown eyes showed excitement.

“You really want me to?” you blurted out. You couldn’t help it, none of this seemed real. Hell, you hardly believed that someone from Hawkins High School had managed to get out of the sad town and become famous. This was a lot to learn in two days.

“We had a deal, remember?” Eddie said. “And I’m not gonna risk you cursing me because I forgot to invite you the last four and a half years.”

“Well... I guess I should go then.” you replied. “I mean, if I don’t then I’m going to have to learn how to curse-”

“You’re allowed to say ‘fuck’, we do it all the time!” yelled out Jeff from behind Eddie.

“Shut up, Jeff!” Eddie grabbed a piece of paper off of Paige’s desk, crumpled it up and threw it at his bandmate. He was laughing through and when it made contact with Jeff, he fell down dramatically. “Ignore him, we’re all idiots.” Eddie turned back to you.

There had been a time in high school where Eddie Munson was regarded as a freak, a delinquent, a druggie, someone dangerous. When you had been paired together for a worksheet, you found yourself at ease with him, talking to him as naturally as you would any other friend. And now, nearly a decade later, he was a celebrity, a legend, constantly being swarmed by fans and groupies and paparazzi. Yet here you were, laughing at his antics the same way you had all those years ago.

Freak. Rock Star. Eddie Munson.

You found your shoulders relaxing and you were smiling at him. “It’s fine, I guess I’ll start with cursing Jeff and working my way through the band until I get to you.” you told him.

“You can’t!” protested Eddie. “I’m holding up my end of the deal! We said five years and if you don’t come to this one you’ll have to come to the Accolades and I think you’d curse me for that one anyway because it’s so boring.”

“Boring? The Accolades? You mean the biggest event of the year for all the tabloids?” you asked. It was hard imagining any of Eddie’s life being boring.

“Worse than Higgins’ speech for our graduating class.” Eddie said seriously. “You thought he was long winded? The Accolades are just a bunch of old farts who like to pat themselves on the back and insult anyone who doesn’t meet their standards.”

You nodded. “Alright, yeah, I guess I would have to take up witchcraft for that.”

“Wait, is she actually a witch?” Jeff said, finally getting up and walking back over.

“If she comes to Hellfire we won’t have to find out.” Eddie laughed and looked directly into the camera. It was unnerving, because that meant that he was getting as close to direct eye contact with you as he could in this current situation. Your heart jumped as his expression shifted. “You are coming, right?”

Maybe it was his big brown doe eyes, or the sincerity in his voice. Maybe it was the small ember of a crush that you had long thought was snuffed out. Maybe it was the way you had already exhausted yourself from your earlier anxiety. Hell, maybe it was the fact that you’d seen him nearly naked for a magazine spread just hours before.

You couldn’t say no, even if you wanted to. And you really did not want to.

“Yeah.” you said quickly. You’d figure out getting time off somehow. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Just tell me where to go.”

Eddie’s chair was pushed away and Paige returned to the camera with a small protest. The five minutes were up.

“I’ve sent you an email with an NDA. Sign it, and we’ll get everything taken care of.” she said.

You wasted no time pulling up the email on your phone, giving it your electronic signature, and sending it back. Though, maybe you should have wasted a little time reading a legal document. Well, it was too late now.

“Alright, you two need to leave now.” Paige said to Eddie and Jeff. “I have to finish up with her here.”

“Wait, what about the drumsticks?” Jeff asked.

“I already hid them.” There was a light in her eyes that you liked. She wasn’t all business, it seemed.

Eddie stuck his head back into view, giving you a full smile with teeth. “I’ll see you when you get here!” he said before Paige shooed them both away again.

The last words you caught from Jeff were a muffled ‘day off’ and ‘campaign’, followed by the clicking of a door.

The next few minutes was Paige gathering your information and giving you a brief rundown of the papers you had just signed. She said that she’d be in touch with you within the next week to send you all of the travel information and to email her with any questions or concerns.

When the call finally ended, you were left staring at the last message sent by WR RECORDS with Paige’s personal email address. It wasn’t even noon and you’d already talked to a former-classmate-turned-rock-star, dodged allegations on being a witch, spoke to the manager of a metal band that you had only just started listening to the night before, and RSVP’d yes to walk the red carpet for one of the biggest alt music awards shows.

You closed the laptop, called out of work, and went back to bed.

---

Please comment and reblog 💜

Tag list: @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile @hitoshislut @kurdtbean @kennedy-brooke @daisyridleyyyy @akira1803

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Plus One

[pearlsinmyhair]

lovely, pt ii

previous softer part here!

hobie finally convinces you to sing on stage with him and his band to a rock cover of your song. suggestive at times. gn!reader.

» lovely, lauren babic and saraphim «

0:00 ─〇───── 3:01

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

the mirror in the dressing room was unforgiving as you tried to breathe. just breathe, hobie had said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before he went onstage.

how he had convinced you to perform at this gig with him, you didn’t know. he had asked you the other night, whispering the question in that husky tone that made you melt.

c’mon songbird, they’ll love ya. sing for them like your singing for me right now and you’ll get an agent.

and you had folded. it was embarrassing, really, how well he exploited your weak spots.

you willed your heart to steady as you inhaled, through your nose, out your mouth. you could feel the drum of peoples feet, nearly as powerful as the bass flowing from the guitar.

what if they don’t like the song, you had asked. you were well aware of the crowd hobie drew to his gigs, and you didn’t want to disappoint them.

we’ll rock it up, he had said, smiling as he reassured you. it seemed easier when he was at your side. but now that you were alone awaiting your cue, your nerves were overpowering.

you met eyes with your reflection, taking in your appearance. you squared your shoulders and rolled your spine up as you straightened.

the long awaited twinge of a guitar string rumbled through the amp. your cue.

you stepped out of the dressing room and stood at the back of the stage.

it’ll be real dark, so they’ll hear you before they see you. just take a deep breath and sing, baby.

you flipped the mic on as the strumming of the guitar and the keys of a piano filled your ears.

the crowd was silent, uncertain of what to make of the switch in tone.

you raised the microphone to your lips.

thought I found a way

thought I found a way out (found)

but you never go away (never go away)

so I guess I gotta stay now

hobie accompanied you as you sang. you found comfort in your usual tone as you stepped up to the microphone stand at the center of the stage.

the low light meant that you could see some of the audiences faces, and it nearly made you stop. but you inhaled, relaxing your body.

isn't it lovely? all alone

heart made of glass, my mind of stone

tear me to pieces, skin to bone

hello, welcome home

this was the unfamiliar part.

the guitar kicked up as hobie took over vocals.

it’s just screaming, love. and i know you can scream.

and scream you did. you raised your voice with the rest of the band members, finding a surprising peace as the drums beat at your back and hobie played at your side.

but I know someday I'll make it out of here

even if it takes all night or a hundred years

need a place to hide, but I can't find one near

wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear

it was euphoric to just let go. and hobie knew that.

you were always so secretive about your voice, and he just wanted you to feel like you didn’t have to hide it.

and maybe he wanted to show you off, but you couldn’t exactly blame him. because, well, look at you.

the crowd sang right with you. apparently, your little siren song didn’t work exclusively for him.

he traded lines with you in the final chorus, looking every bit the lovesick puppy.

isn't it lovely? all alone

heart made of glass, my mind of stone

tear me to pieces, skin to bone

hello, welcome home

for an instant, the crowd was silent. a wave of anxiety rolled over your shoulders.

and then the audience roared.

you looked over to hobie as you grinned happily, only to find him striding over to you.

he leaned down to whisper in your ear so you could hear him.

“what’d i tell ya, songbird?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

he walked back over to his place as the drummer started once more.

“but i’m still your number one fan, yeah?” he called as he pulled his pick over the strings of his guitar.

and after the gig, he showed you just how much he enjoyed your performance.

#hobie my beloved #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #gn!reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie x y/n

[arc-misadventures]

Jingle Bells

Weiss: Okay, do we have everyone?

Blake: Uhh… No.

Ren: Jaune, Nora, and Yang said they aren’t coming.

Weiss: What, but we need everyone here to practice singing, ‘Jingle Bells’.

Ruby: Yang said she didn’t want to sing, ‘Jingle Bells.’ She thinks it’s lame.

Pyrrha: Jaune said he wouldn’t sing, he hates, Christmas music apparently.

Blake: Why’s that?

Pyrrha: Oh, something about the unoriginality of, Christmas music just being the same songs sung by dozens of different singers, who play the exact same song with only minor differences in a month long, but seemingly never ending repetition of said songs that drive the mind to the point of insanity with their constant appearance.

Weiss: That! That makes sense… But, what about, Nora?

Ren: Jaune dragged her away saying he had an idea.

Blake: Jaune dragged, Nora away; Isn’t it usually the opposite that happens.l?

Pyrrha: It occasionally happens.

Ren: Don’t worry, we’re still scared.

Weiss: That’s reassuring… But, what are we going to do? We need more people to sing with us, what could they be doing that…? Uhh…? Is someone tuning a guitar?

Blake: Are those drums?

Pyrrha: What’s going on?

The group turns a corner to see, Jaune, Nora, and Yang on a stage, Jaune dressed as a punk rocker with a mic in his hand. Yang was also dressed like a punk rocker with an electric guitar in her hands, and lastly, Nora was also dressed as a punk rocker with a drum set before her. The group looked at them in utterly dumbfounded. Weiss, was about to ask them what they were doing until the music started. It started with a cry, and then, Jaune grabbed the microphone, and then started to sing.

To sing their own, ‘Christmas’ song.

They watched on in stunned amazement, and utter befuddlement:

Ren looked on as the trio played their song, utterly lost since he had no idea she could play the drums, and so well at that.

Pyrrha was amazed because she had heard, Jaune ‘singing’ in his attempts to whoo, Weiss, but apparently he could actually sing, pretty decently at that.

Blake was shocked as she saw, Yang play the electric guitar, she particularly enjoyed that small rift she had, and let it rip. But, when the devil did she learn to play the guitar?

Weiss was having a meltdown, hearing her friends sing… that was frying her brain. She was going to comment that they weren’t singing a, Christmas song, but then she heard that high pitched squeal singing, ‘Jingle Bells’ and realized it was a remix of it. She felt like fainting when she realized this.

Ruby meanwhile has a pair of red, and green glow sticks in her hands, and was bashing her head up, and down to the beat of the music. Utterly enraptured by the songs beat.

Soon the song ended, and the trio looked up to see they had an unexpected audience.

Jaune: Oh, hey guys. What’s up?

Weiss: What… What was that?

Nora: Jingle Bells.

Weiss: Like hell it was!

Yang: But, there is a line of, Jingle Bells in the song.

Weiss: For five seconds it was, even then it was in this high pitched whiny voice! The hell was that?!

Blake: You better tell her before she blows a gasket.

Jaune: Okay, It’s callez, ‘Ere We Go.’ Its this sci-fi, fantasy remix that is sung by a Ork rockstar.

Weiss: It’s sung by a what?!

Ruby: Why were you playing it?

Jaune: I refuse to sing, ‘Jingle Bells!’ I hate that song! So i’ll sing this version instead.

Weiss: Absolutely not!

Pyrrha: Why not?

Ruby: I thought it was pretty good.

Weiss: It has nothing to do with, Christmas music! It’s just a rip off of the melody!

Ren: Why not let them play it? It will allow other people to hear something different than the usual chorus, or instrumental, Christmas music.

Weiss: I won’t allow someone to play rock, and roll at this festival! And, as the program planner, I forbid you from playing that song at the, Christmas Festival! And, that’s final!

Ruby: Naww… But, it’s really catchy…

Jaune: Fine we won’t play that song, we’ll play, ‘Christmas Truce’ instead.

And, in the blink of the eye, the trio’s outfits changed from punk rockers, to old military uniforms.

Nora: Yeah! Lets do that song instead!

Yang: This is more fitting for, Weiss’s little festival.

Weiss: I forbid you from play any stupid rock, and roll music!

The trio, along with, Ruby slowly turned their heads towards, Weiss, and gave her a empty, yet chilling gaze. One that caused, Weiss to cower in a silent fear away from them. She was about to say something when the microphone, Jaune was holding clocked her square in the face rendering her unconscious.

Jaune: That’s what you get for dissing, ‘Christmas Truce’ ya bitch!

#Spotify #rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #ruby rose #lie ren

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 4: The End of the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, the reader faces the consequences of her actions and faces some hate from Robin, era-normalizes homophobia, no use of YN, wet dreams and reader being horny on main, allusions to a bi!reader, kinda voyerism?

A/N: First of all, I wanted to express all my gratitude for the love everyone has shown me and my work! It feels so wonderful to know that others are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter was so challenging but also really rewarding. Initially, this was going to be much longer and it would cover the entire rest of the tour, but I didn’t want the pacing to feel rushed so I split this into two parts so we can also delve a little deeper into the rest of the tour dates. Also, I love circa Season 3 Robin who calls people out on their shit.

wc: 5.9K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

April 11th, 1984 Cincinnati Ohio

“Hey! Hey!” You hear calls of your name from deep in the corners of the chaos that is backstage before a show. You’re too busy fighting to secure the buckle on your stupidly impractical heels to look up and instead, you listen as the voice calling your name gets closer and closer until it takes the form of the heavy pair of lace-up boots that appear in front of you. Your gaze follows the trail up the boots to the attached legs, torso, chest, and finally to the head of wild curls belonging to one Eddie Munson. “Yes?” You say primly as if this is your first time hearing him. He rolls his eyes in response, but the gesture is more teasing than anything.

“I was thinking that maybe we don’t even do a bridge in ‘Runaway with Me’. What if, instead we do one final chorus with a larger buildup?” You halt mid-shoe-struggle to glance up at him and consider his idea. “That could work,” you say, straightening out to eye level, giving yourself a break from your crouched position.

“We could build a crescendo, maybe bring in some horns like Robin’s always talking about,” you offer.

He nods excitedly, “Yeah, some horns would be sweet! We could also do some heavier synth.”

As he’s talking, he kneels and gently begins to secure the strap of your shoes for you. This gesture and others like them have recently begun to spring from the guitarist. The two of you have naturally been spending more and more time together writing and through this time spent together you’ve come to realize that Eddie is kind below all that bravado and snark. It’s a kindness you recognize, one that’s been bubbling below the surface waiting for someone to lure it out by working past his walls. As it would turn out, spending a few nights a week writing did the trick and after nearly a month, the two of you were approaching friendship.

“Thanks,” you smile, once he’s secured both shoes, “I was struggling there.”

He gives you one of those full-body shrugs you’ve come to associate with him lately and says, “It’s nothin’. Didn’t want you wrinkling your pretty dress.”

You brush off his flirtatious words as just an attempt to get under your skin. He’s still Eddie, after all.

“Maybe we should finish the song tonight, then,” you suggest, fingers smoothing out your skirt instinctively.

“And miss the afterparty? No chance. Argyle says that the club we’re going to downtown has go-go dancers.”

“Oh, right, the afterparty. I forgot,” you exclaim, unconvincingly.

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie deadpans, “you just don’t want to go.”

The other thing you’ve learned about Eddie these past few weeks is that he’s weirdly perceptive.

“I hate those parties,” you whine as the two of you amble towards the front of the stage, “I’m stuck having people gawking at me while the rest of you are off having fun.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix, why don’t you ditch the gawkers tonight and you and I can get up to some shenanigans?”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge with a raise of your eyebrow, “I don’t see how watching groupies throw themselves at you is any different than watching them throw themselves at Steve.”

“Where are these groupies that you speak of, because I promise you no one is throwing themselves at me,” he guffaws at the mere thought.

You roll your eyes, “I see you taking a different girl home every night and I wouldn’t want to mess with your batting average. Besides, people will see me with you instead of Steve and they’ll start talking.” “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but my batting average is rookie-level, at best,” he fiddles with the strap on his guitar excessively before swinging it over his shoulders, “and as far as rumors go, not likely. No one in their right mind would think anyone, much less you would choose me over Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You roll your eyes at his self-deprecation. “That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself, Eddie. Also, you know Steve hates when you call him that.”

He smirks in response, “That’s exactly why I do it, princess. So, what do you say? If you come to the afterparty and we have a good time, we skip the next writing session and if you find it absolutely abhorrent, we’ll… skip the afterparty in St. Louis and buckle down to write. Deal?” *** You end up taking Eddie’s deal if anything, because you don’t want to alienate the closest thing you have to a friend right now.

Ever since Jonathan found out about his brother’s successful operation, he’s been making up for lost time, partying and drinking with Argyle every single night. Nancy’s been preoccupied with trailing behind them and making sure they don’t end up waking up in a hotel lobby fountain like they did back in D.C..

Steve, on the other hand, has withdrawn from you since Atlanta, and while he acts the part of doting boyfriend in front of the crowds and pleasant friend in front of the rest of the band, the connecting door between your hotel rooms has remained resoundingly locked. Naturally, Robin had been avoiding you too.

This is how you ended up sitting next to Eddie Munson at a seedy club somewhere in downtown Cincinnati watching girls dance in cages and listening to him argue with the bartender about which regional hot dog was the best.

From across the room, Nancy catches your eye and flashes a sheepish smile before Jonathan drags her to another corner of the room, drink in hand. Occupying a separate corner, you spot Steve and Argyle in a cloud of women and smoke downing what appears to be their thousandth shot as onlookers cheer on.

You wish it was that easy for you.

“What do you wish was that easy?” Eddie turns suddenly, angling his entire body your way.

You swallow down the embarrassment of having accidentally voiced your thoughts, if only because Eddie’s smirking at you like he knows you’ve been caught.

“You know, walking into a room and not having to worry about doing the wrong thing and immediately making everyone hate you. I wish that was easier.”

He laughs at this, a banging-on-the-table type of ordeal, and you withdraw into yourself at the flash of the callousness you had previously associated with him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he waves, “It’s just that, you could probably spit in everyone’s face when you walk into a room while insulting their mothers and they would still love you. How could anyone not? You’ve got that thing.”

“That thing?”  

“Yeah, like,” he gesticulates his arms wildly as if he could catch the words he was looking for between his fingers, “magnetism? But also endearing which is extra annoying. It shines off you, almost?  Like…if the rest of the world is silver, you’re this big chunk of gold.”

He ducks his head suddenly, embarrassed and his words mean so much you nearly do the same.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say instead, and because it is Eddie, you have to add, “although, no one’s ever called me a ‘big chunk’ of anything.”

“Yeah well, someone’s got to keep you humble, right?”

You roll your eyes but even that doesn’t wipe away your smile, in fact, it only grows.

***

ROBIN:  Of course, I remember that night! I spent the entire time comforting my best friend while he watched those two make eyes at each other.

It always blew my mind what she could get away with that the rest of us couldn’t. It had only been a month since she rejected Steve on the basis of wanting to keep things professional and here, she was, practically attached at the hip to Eddie—the one guy who hurt Steve the most to see her with—like it’s nothing and the rest of us have to pay the consequence! How was that fair?

***

” So, what do you say? St. Louis after party?” Eddie quips an eyebrow as the two of you stumble down the hallway of your Ohio hotel room, many hours and drinks later.

“I don’t think so, Munson,” you say, far too resolutely for someone who is clinging to the wall.

“What? I thought you had fun! That was fun! Didn’t you have fun?”

His large brown eyes turn a bit desperate at his question. Truthfully, the night was good—not necessarily the exciting endless nights of your teenage years on the Strip—but Eddie did put effort into making it an enjoyable night for you. He kept the drinks flowing and brought you the best of Argyle’s stash of magic pills. He even got into one of the Go-Go cages after losing a drinking game and gave a truthfully hilarious performance. He was so focused on getting off the hook for writing in St. Louis that he ignored every groupie that tried to approach.

Still, you could not shake the hollowness in your heart or the weight of everyone’s attention.

Stopping at your hotel room door (at least you think it is, you’re not quite sure) you turn to put a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you, for working so hard to give me a good night, I appreciate it, but we’re writing in St. Louis. We have to, we’re already behind.”

Placated by this, Eddie nods, smiling, before reaching up to grasp your wrist lightly, the one that’s resting on his shoulder.

“Well, as long as you had some fun—”

The ding of the elevator drowns out the rest of what he was going to say and the two of you jump apart in time to catch a glimpse of a very pissed-off Robin propping up a very out-of-it Steve. Eddie rushes forward, reaching for Steve’s other side, but before he can help her, Robin says, icily and resolutely, “Don’t. You’ve done enough,” causing Eddie to flinch back.

This uncharacteristic snap from Robin has left the two of you stunned, standing in place and far too drunk to know what to do so you both watch, unmoving as Robin struggles comically to get Steve down the hallway to the door next to yours.

Steve, for his part, is glassy-eyed and completely unhelpful to Robin, in fact, you’re certain he’s leaning his entire weight on her. When he makes eye contact, you smile, awkwardly and he turns completely away from your gesture.

“Shit, Steve, where’s your key?” Robin asks, patting away at his pocket in a way only intimate friends could do.

Steve shrugs dismissively in response, “Lost it,” he slurred.

His voice spurs you into action, “Here,” you gesture to Robin, “I can let you in through the inside door.”

The brass player grimaces in response, and you can see her mouth get ready to tell you to fuck off but Steve’s weight on her slight frame gets the best of her, and huffs in forced acceptance, “Fine, whatever.”

You hold the door as the two of them stumble in, a gangly, uncoordinated four-legged monster.

Eddie lingers on the other side of the doorway, Robin’s glare enough to stave him off.

The two of you share a smile, and it looks like he wants to say something but a crash in your room demands your attention.

“Thanks for the night out, Eddie,” you say partially because you must and partially because you don’t recognize the look in his eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You puncture your question with a slight tilt of your head, gesturing towards the cacophony inside.

He nods, understandingly, gulping down his words, and instead offers, “Yeah, sounds good, see you tomorrow.”

You shut the door, ready to accept whatever destruction Steve has inflicted in retaliation, you’re certain, for his broken heart. You deserved it, after all. Any other guy (and in fact, every other guy you had been with before) would’ve probably told you off angrily by now, and, as nice as Steve seemed, it was only a matter of time before he did too.

To your surprise, he is at your vanity, fumbling about with your various pots and compacts and bottles of perfume.

Robin is trying to pull him away, albeit feebly.

“Stop it, Rob,” Steve whines, slapping her grasp away, “I miss the smell.”

***

ROBIN: Pathetic. It was pathetic.

***

STEVE: No, sorry, I don’t remember that happening.  

***

Robin realizes now that she is in no place to deny your offer of help so between the two of you you manage to get Steve undressed and put to bed. The already Herculean task is made even more difficult by Robin’s refusal to acknowledge you in any capacity, but it gets done.

“You know, I don’t mean to hurt him,” you mutter, pulling the duvet over Steve’s shoulders.

“Right,” Robin responds, not even looking up, “guess it’s just another one of those things you’re just naturally good at, huh?”

You sigh, frustrated. Maybe it’s the alcohol still circling through your veins, maybe it’s the need to appeal to Robin, whom you had previously had a trouble-free relationship with, but you start to talk.

“Listen, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to be with Steve…it’s that I don’t know how.”

She turns wide-eyed to you now, “You don’t know how to have sex? They have books for that, you know.”

“No, no it’s not that,” you say, and then quieter, after making sure Steve was still passed out in his nest of pillows, “I’ve had sex before. Plenty of sex, with other people—”

“Sure, that sounds super convincing.”

“I’ve just never been in a relationship before. I don’t know how and I’m not sure if I’d be very good at it.” You divert your gaze now from Robin, blushing at your revelation.

“What do you mean? What about Jason Carver? You dated for like six months.”

You fiddle with the blanket bunched at the corner of the bed.

“No, we didn’t. Those were just lies spread by Starcourt to sell more records. I didn’t date any of those assholes. It was all set up.”

Robin lowers down to sit on the edge of the bed opposite you, by Steve’s feet.

“So, what? Everyone needs a first. Is Steve not worth trying for?”

“Of course, he is, Robin! But other people are relying on us not fucking this up and I already know that I will.”

“So, that’s it then? You’re too scared to try just because it doesn’t come easy?”

You pluck angrily at a loose thread and mutter, “You just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. I have to spend my entire life hiding who I love from the world and here you are, getting the opportunity to love someone—and not just anyone but, like, one of the best guys in the world—and have that love be celebrated by other people and instead of choosing to at least try to make it real, you’re sticking to what’s fake because that’s all you know.”

Words block your throat, and your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“I’m gonna go now,” you exhale, shakily before dashing out of the door into your own room. You wait before your certain Robin has left before letting your tears flow.

***

ROBIN: What I said was totally harsh, but I don’t regret it. She needed to hear it.

***

April 13th, 1984, St. Louis Missouri

“So, what’s going on with you and Harrington?”

Eddie wastes no time in asking as he is ushered into your current hotel room.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying your hardest to sound convincingly confused.

With his guitar case, he gestures towards the door that connects your room to Steve’s, “Every time I come over now, that door is closed.”

You shrug in response, “Dunno. He probably got bored of me.”

Eddie scoffs, unconvinced as he begins to settle on your small couch for a night of writing, “I doubt that Harrington could ever be tired of you.”

You know what he wants to hear—what’ll get him off your back.

“Well… maybe I got bored of him.”

***

STEVE: What do I remember about St. Louis? Well, for one, the hotel walls were really thin.

*** 

Eddie didn’t ask you about Steve after that, instead, he diverted his attention entirely to showing you all that he had written between Cincinnati and St. Louis. It was a lot. Way more than what you were used to from him. Something had changed recently with him, a crazy wave of creativity that had kicked his songwriting into overdrive. The interesting thing about it was the consistent romantic undertone in most of his songs. It made you curious about what one-night stand could’ve possibly bewitched him to the point where he was writing verses upon verses about her. You try not to think about Eddie’s possible muse too much and try to focus on being grateful for her instead.

The two of you sit on your too-small couch, bodies flush against one another at nearly every point. You lean closer to the guitarist and cheekily pluck the pen out of his hand and scribble some lyrics in his notebook.

“How am I supposed to decipher any of that chicken scratch?” he teases.

Your head snaps up from the page, with the full intention to tell him off but you’re awestruck by your proximity. You’re close enough to see the scar next to his right eye and the flecks of gold in his quickly widening pupils. That partnered with his musky scent of fir trees and tobacco leaves you gaping at him like a fish. Eddie Munson is pretty, you notice. Very much so. Sure, you weren’t so blinded by his arrogance and unpleasantness to not realize he was attractive, but before you had always seen him as hot. He was a guitar player, after all. But now, up close, knowing him, you see the softness of his face and the warmth of his eyes and it’s all quite disarming.

Realizing you had been staring for way more than could be considered appropriate, you snap backward into the farthest corner of the tiny couch putting a sliver of space between the two of you. 

“My handwriting is perfectly fine,” you argue, weakly.

And just like that, the moment slips through your fingers and it’s just you and Eddie again, writing songs and teasing each other like nothing happened.

Three hours later, you are finally happy enough with the progress that was made to release Eddie back into the wild. You escort him to the door and the two of you linger in the threshold. His fingers drum against his guitar case, restlessly and he seems like he’s going to say something.

After an unusually awkward moment of silence between the two of you, you decide to move things along.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsals?” you offer, rolling your ankle against the stiff, carpet floor.

In response, Eddie gulps and nods sharply, but doesn’t quite turn to walk away.

Instead, he pulls lightly at one of his curls, like you see him sometimes do while he’s deep in thought, and says something that takes you completely by surprise, “I like writing with you, you know?”

He starts walking backwards, now, eyes still on you but retreating quickly down the hall.

“I like writing with you too,” you respond, softly, too softly, but by the ear-splitting grin on Eddie’s face, you’re certain he heard.

***

You’re not sure how it started. Maybe it was because your nerves at being around Steve for the first time properly since Cinci had made you extra fidgety or maybe it was the feeling of Eddie’s heavy stare tracing the thin straps of your top that had sent a bolt of energy through you, (or maybe it was the hit you’d taken from Argyle’s stash) but you had too much energy to burn at rehearsal.  You started dancing a little more than usual on stage—nothing complicated, just a little two-step here and there, maybe a twirl but, by the third song, you had noticed that Steve was beginning to mimic your movements so that the two of you moved together on stage. After that, you played around with it, a little more, not taking it too seriously, but treating it like a game of Simon Says while also trying to guess each other’s next move.

When the song ends, the two of you are a bit more out of breath than normal, but you’re smiling just the same.

“Woah, did you two plan that?” Argyle asks, in awe.

“No,” he chuckles out, “just messing around, I guess.”

“Well, whatever you were doing you should try it on stage tomorrow night, it was cute,” Nancy says decidedly from behind her keyboard.

Sheepish looks are exchanged between you and Steve, and you shrug at him.

“Sure, why not?”

***

ROBIN: There was a lot about the band that was fake, but none of that ever bled into how we were on stage. Even when things were the most difficult between us—I’m talking about when some of us couldn’t even look at each other—all that went away when we were on stage. Especially with our two lead singers. During that first tour, when Steve had confessed his feelings and she left him totally heartbroken, that didn’t affect their chemistry at all.

I remember that day in St. Louis, during rehearsal, they were messing around together, doing this silly little dance during All About You and it turns into this whole choreographed bit. We didn’t have a fancy set production or even a coordinator back then, so all the little dances they did, that was all them.

People went crazy for them, and it became a thing that people were expecting us to do. 

EDDIE: Listen, I think we can both admit I was never the frontman type like Harrington—I’m too hard to swallow and my singing voice ain’t all that, plus all that attention would make me go nuts—but seeing the two of them, up there, dancing, and smiling and singing to each other like there was no one else in the room? Can’t say that was easy for me, no.

STEVE: You know, part of me started to hate performing? Well, maybe not hate, but it was difficult. The crowd would go crazy when we interacted, and the more we danced with each other, the more we shared a mic or got really close, the more the crowd cheered. So, we did those things a lot throughout the shows. And sometimes, when she would reach out and touch my face or look at me with those eyes, well, it felt real almost like we were the only two people in the room and we weren’t pretending, we were just being. And then we would get off stage and go back to being strangers.

It’s the almost having something that always hurts the most.

***

“Hey, where are you going?”

The show is over, and the crowds are long gone, and the venue is deserted. It’s late but, for most of the band, the night is just beginning. While the rest were getting ready for another night out, you were gearing up for a long night of songwriting with Eddie and were just about ready to find him and head to the hotel when he breezes by, arm wrapped around some unknown girl, without as much as a glance in your direction.

Your question catches his attention, and he stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around.

“Eddie,” you continue, “I thought we agreed we were going to write tonight.”

“Sorry, change of plans,” he tosses over his shoulder and then continues on without further explanation.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘change of plans’? We made a deal,” you charge behind him.

“Yeah, well, that was before Arabella told me about this bar downtown that—”

You don’t even let him finish.

“No offense, but I don’t give a shit about who Arabella is or what she told you, we have a deadline to meet!”

Eddie stops at this and his date, who you now realize is probably the Arabella he was referring to, takes the moment to fully glare at you. You shoot her a half-hearted shrug in place of an apology.

For his part, Eddie is regarding you like he’s thinking over a math problem or trying to figure out a particularly tricky chord progression. His expression changes, however, as soon as he spots the rest of the band approaching behind you.

“Raincheck?” He offers dismissably.

 You cross your arms and scoff. Truly, who the hell did he think he was?

“Go fuck yourself, Eddie.”

You give him no chance to respond before you turn around and stalk off in the opposite direction, not caring that the exit is in the other direction.

You walk past the others as you do and reactions to your outburst range from full guffaws (Argyle, Jonathan) to awkward grimaces (Nancy) to something right in between (Robin). Steve, on the other hand, looks almost angry and while you’re not sure who that anger is directed at—you have too much of your own to worry about it.

 “Hey! Don’t be that way, we can write another night, I promise!” You hear Eddie calling out behind you, and suddenly this has become a full-on scene, but you keep walking.

He calls out for you again, this time you pick up on the light desperation coloring his voice but again, you don’t dare turn around. He calls out your name one last time and this time you do respond—by flipping him off.

***

ARABELLA CHEN (FORMER GROUPIE): I remember that! She was kind of a bitch, to be frank. You know, back then I tried not to hang around girls too much, they were always so much drama.

EDDIE: Why did I blow her off?  Hm, not sure. I wasn’t doing any drugs back then so I can’t blame it on that. You know what? It was probably because I was...God, what’s the phrase? Oh, right. A jealous immature asshole.

***

You head to the hotel on your own that night, feeling annoyed and only a little bit lonely. You try to do some writing, but you're so wound up that it's no use, so you end up calling it a night early.

You are too wound up to even sleep and you spend the majority of the night falling asleep only to stir awake at the last minute, your energy too high to let you rest. You’re no longer angry and annoyed, though, mostly you're hungry.

You commiserate over the fact that Robin usually was your late-night snack supplier but obviously, she was no longer willing. And because Hopper had blown up at Eddie and Argyle for ordering $650 worth of room service in Nashville after getting a wicked case of the munchies which left you no choice by to shop the hotel vending machines to possible quiet your hunger.

The sad, barely-stocked machines were nestled at the end of the hall in a small separate room that also housed the ice machine You're scanning the rows of candy bars and chip bags trying to find something that was from this decade when the aggressive shrill of the elevator pulls your attention.

There's a cacophony of clumsy noises coming from the elevator. From where you're standing, you can see the occupants stumbling out, a flurried mess of limbs and hair. Eddie and the girl he had had on his arm. The one who had told him about the awesome bar or whatever. Arabella. It was a stupid name, truly. Like a fancy dog or a part of the royal family.

Likely, they can't see you from their spot, or maybe they could but they weren't so preoccupied trying to get Arabella's tongue all the way down Eddie's throat that they didn't. You stayed frozen in place as you watched them stumble to his room, fingers interwoven through hair and hands wandering underneath fabric. Eventually, Eddie hoisted her up and she wrapped her long, golden legs around his torso and you caught a glimpse of her nearly non-existent panties.

Finally, they clumsily stumbled into his room and you were able to escape from your hiding spot, snacks fully forgotten.

You tried to go to bed after that, hoping that the anger and annoyance you had felt earlier in the night had finally dissipated. And while those feelings had quieted, something else equally white-hot through the night you come to realize when after startling awake for the thousandth time you recall fragments of your dream. First, you remember Eddie, and then the girl he was with Arabella. And then you remember the rest. Hot, bare, skin-on-skin, and open-mouth kisses flood your memory, and you can't help but blush. You had been having a dirty dream about your bandmate. A bandmate that you had just had a very public fight with and to top it all off the girl that he chose to spend the night with over you also made a guest appearance in said dirty dream.

Yeah, that was fucked.

You sit up, blankets pulling around your waist and try to blink away the shame and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

It's not a big deal you tell yourself. Everyone has dirty dreams they're not proud of every once in a while. So, what if yours was about Eddie? It was probably an indication that you hadn't gotten any action in a really, really, long. Given your contractually obligated fake relationship, was that truly a surprise?

Your halfhearted attempts to go back to sleep are only met with visions of dark hair and long, ringed fingers exploring supple, rounded flesh.

When you finally decide it's no use, you get to writing instead.

***

The next day during sound check, you avoid Eddie. Partially because you’re still annoyed at him for blowing you off, and partially because the dream you had about him was still far too fresh in your mind you couldn’t count on yourself not to blush in his presence. He was not getting the message though, because he seemed to trail behind you the entire time. Not too close where it was obvious to the others, but close enough that you, the person who was actively trying to avoid him, noticed.

Eventually, you have no choice but to acknowledge him when he all but corners you as you’re leaving the restroom.

“Did you get the…things?” he asks lamely.

“What thing?” you ask, trying to gently push past him.

He looks nervous now, and a bit ashamed, but almost in a cute way like a chastised puppy.

“You, know, the things—” you continue to stare at him, blankly and he has no choice but to elaborate— “the flower things.”

Oh. That was him?

“Oh,” you respond, “That was you?”

It his turn to look befuddled now, bordering on mortified, “Who else could they have been from?”

“I don’t know,” you respond nonchalantly, “I kind of get flowers all the time.”

That was true. Back when you were going on fake dates for photo opps with every warm male body at Starcourt, you were receiving so many thank-you bouquets and charcuterie baskets you had run out of flat surfaces to put them on.

So, this morning when there had been a loud knock at your door, you had been more concerned about telling off whoever decided it was okay to bang on your door in the early hours of the morning (11 AM) than figuring out who sent the obnoxiously large bouquet that had been waiting for you when you opened the door.

“Plus, there was no note,” you add with a shrug.

“Well, of course, there was no note, the depth of my remorse and shame regarding my behavior last night is far too vast to fit onto a measly 3x5 piece of paper. I wanted to apologize in person, like a man.”

***

EDDIE: It was my first time getting someone flowers. I didn’t realize there was a note you had to write.

***

You stare at him, arms crossed and expectingly.

“I’m sorry I blew you off last night to go to a bar downtown with a mechanical bull and I am even more sorry about how much of a dick I was about it. Even though the mechanical bull was a lot of fun, it would’ve been even more fun if you were there. If it’s any consolation, I got knocked off the bull almost immediately. It was humiliating. I deserved it though after the way I spoke to you and if you’d like me, I’d like to make it up to you tonight. What do you say? I’ll buy you a bottle of that wine you like and we’ll have a hot and heavy writing sesh.”

It's at this point that you realize how close the two of you were. Eddie had you essentially caged against the wall, clearly trying to prevent you from slipping past him like you had all afternoon. The proximity along with hearing Eddie say “hot and heavy” immediately brought back memories that you were trying to avoid.

“Maybe,” you croak, as you duck underneath his arm and scurry around him, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the heat of his body. “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”

***

EDDIE: She didn’t get back to me that day. Or the three days after that. She avoided me like the plague, actually. I had thought that the flowers and the heartfelt apology would’ve helped smooth things over a little but I guess I hadn’t realized how much I hurt her feelings.

Of course, I was kicking myself. I was sure that I had wrecked my chances. I told myself it was my fault for ever believing that I could ever have a chance with someone like her. I was ready to accept that it was all over before it ever even began.

And then the strangest thing happened.

***

April 20th, 1984, Pontiac, Missouri

It wasn’t like you were an overly sexual creature. Sure, you enjoyed sex, and you had sex a healthy amount of time, but you had never felt like if you didn’t have sex you would die. Until now.

Maybe it was all the time on the road that was getting to you. Maybe this was some weird psychological thing and your brain associated hotel linens with sexy rendezvous. Maybe being in a (fake) romantic relationship made you crave sexual intimacy as well. Whatever the reason was, you could not shake this growing hunger that burned in the pit of your stomach, and it was starting to affect you outside of just messing with your sleep.

Not only were the dreams happening more often now, but they were no longer just about Eddie. You had them about former flings, and old crushes, Steve was starting to become a frequent player. You think you may have had one about Nancy once, which was very surprising but not unwelcome.

You weren’t proud to admit it, but you saw Steve’s treasure trail once and had to spend 20 minutes in the bathroom splashing water on your face. Something very similar happened when Eddie wore a muscle tank to rehearsal.

You had tried handling the issue yourself and while you were able to get the job done, it always left you wanting more.

If you kept having dreams like these, you were eventually going to run out of bandmates you could look in the eye without blushing.

It wasn’t like you could hook up with someone random either. Outside of the obvious reason, it was too much of a risk for your relationship with Steve, both the fake one and the very tender one you had behind the scenes. Steve was the obvious choice to help resolve your issue because of the mutual attraction but you are certain if the two of you started having sex, no matter how casual you could claim it would be, feelings would start to develop sooner rather than later. He was too easy to like for that not to be the case.

You could’ve just ignored it and hoped it would go away, really, you could’ve. In fact, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Hell, you could’ve discreetly found a shop to purchase a vibrator and maybe this whole thing would’ve been resolved. But no, instead, you end up in front of Eddie Munson’s hotel door somewhere in Missouri about to set off a chain of events that was going to impact you for the rest of your life.  

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist:

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#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #jonathan byers #eddie munson x yn #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x f!reader

[dichromaticdyke]

GUYS I'M HAVING ANOTHER BOUT OF DIVINE MADNESS

i've been seing posts here and there expressing disappointment at aotd not giving us more answers about the lore of Salacia and the Whale Prophet and all that, and i agree, it's a bit disappointing to not know definitively what's going on with them.

BUT.

I THINK THE LORE WAS IN FRONT OF US THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME.

if you liked my analysis of "Aortic Desecration," "SOS," and "Blazing Star," then hopefully you'll like my analysis (and HEAVY theorizing) of Dethklok's most enigmatic running theme—the "Murmaider" trilogy of songs.

okay strap in i'm probably gna sound like charlie day's pepe silvia rant. i'm gonna start just by breaking down the story of the "Murmaider" trilogy i'll also be skipping any lyrics in the songs that aren't directly connected to by analysis/theory (such as the parts where nathan is just listing different murder weapons or chanting "murmaider").

so, starting with murmaider. this is the only song of the trilogy to actually make an appearance in the show, with the other two being exclusive to their respective dethalbums, but even still, this song only plays for a few seconds, and it's just the chorus. this song appeared in "dethwater," the same episode that established dethklok's connection to the water. this episode also notably featured toki's guitar picking up the sounds of whales (something that would later be revisited when edgar noticed this in season 4 and began decoding the whales' messages).

There are no fingerprints deep underwater Nothing to tie one to a crime And if you seek vengeance All you need are instruments of pain

so the story being established here is pretty clear. some unknown protagonist that nathan is speaking to is going to kill someone underwater so that he can seek vengeance and not get caught.

But beware For when you quench your bloodthirst Others will seek vengeance on you And they won't rest until you're dead

nathan warns this protagonist that his actions will cause those related to the victim to seek vengeance on him. fair enough.

Hold your breath and swim and strain Smell of death, can't escape Blood will cloud, drift away Attract the murders of mermaids It's so cold, they all know What you've done, you can't run Vengeance is the law for thee A thousand leagues below the sea

this is where it starts to get interesting. the fact that those that are seeking vengeance on our protagonist are mermaids says to me that the initial victim was a mermaid. if not a mermaid, they were at least some kind of sea creature. otherwise, why would the mermaids care all that much? care to the point of vengeance? but the next portion sinks this theory for me.

You've been tracked, you've been seen Murdering the next of kin Ate their hearts, drank their blood Washed your fins in blackened mud

"murdering the next of kin" is very important. next of kin to what? or to whom? did our protagonist kill a mermaid/sea creature's child?

Now you swim, try to hide Heart beats faster from inside Thought it was a big charade Your life was ended by mermaids

so our protagonist tries to escape from the mermaids seeking vengeance on him, hiding in the water, but in the water, the mermaids are able to find him, and they kill him.

now let's look at murmaider ii: the water god. already, this song seems important, namedropping a god and all.

The gods watch over you And they consider what you've done But now you've hidden away to gain your strength Deep in a cave Your power is regained And your legacy has spread to the deepest of the sea The one that brought them vengeance That fights for his belief

now, this is where the theorizing really starts to come in. who is this that nathan is speaking to? this figure that nathan is speaking to here is a figure that has "brought [...] vengeance." specifically, it seems that they've brought vengeance to the gods that now watch over them. is this the same protagonist as in "Murmaider?" that seems impossible, as it's implied that that protagonist died. though that protagonist was bringing vengeance, but we're not sure whom to. we also don't know for sure if the mermaids who allegedly killed the previous protagonist are gods or work with gods. put a pin in this.

He can swim through matter He has poisoned teeth His tentacles have murdered His scream can kill the weak He's got explosives (check) Corrosives (check) A master of the art of murder Mermaids weep the blackened tears

despite this being in third person, this still is referring to the protagonist whom nathan is speaking to. this is a direct continuation of nathan speaking about his legacy as "the one that brought them vengeance / that fights for his belief." this is establishing the power that the protagonist has. anyway, mermaids crying blackened tears over this protagonist? seems important.

So you swim to a sunken ship Invited by a soul who bleeds from the lips The prophet, who beckons you, wades in the dark Speaks an ancient language, this language is of sharks

HEY LOOK A WATER PROPHET, THAT SOUNDS FAMILIAR. however, this isn't the water prophet we're most familiar with—we're familiar with a whale (not a shark) whom is referred to with she/her pronouns (not he/him). but that doesn't mean this isn't important. put up another pin.

He says, "You're the one that I decree The one who can save us and set us free You've gained the power of a deity You have the strength to wake us from this sleep" [...] And the prophet gives to you this warning: "If this path is chosen you'll be met with strife For you'll be seen as an enemy of the sacred And the gods will curse you for the rest of your life" And you say, "I get by just fine (check) I've known much worse life (check) I've conquered dark times (check) They should fear my might (check)"

so this shark prophet, as i'll refer to him, is telling our protagonist that, because of their power, they will get the right to further divine powers so long as the protagonist uses this power to help..."us." however, in freeing the nebulous "us," this puts our protagonist in conflict with the gods and other holy/sacred beings. this doesn't dissuade our protagonist, having full confidence in his abilities and power.

So now you know then, go then Swim on through the cold then Harness your strength Because one day you may be called To meet the mighty gods Deep within the ocean And if you're not prepared Your soul will not be spared

OKAY BOYS, HERE'S WHERE IT'S GETTING FUCKING INTERESTING. our protagonist is told to lay low, gather strength, and wait for the moment when they will go up against the ocean deities. again, DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR? don't forget this, but take out that pin from earlier. this protagonist is the same protagonist as in "Murmaider." he didn't die—his "life was ended," but given his divine power and strength, that doesn't necessarily mean death in the permanent sense. the mermaids were bitterly weeping about this protagonist, someone that they thought they had killed but whom is still alive, getting stronger, waiting...

Your eyes have gone black You'll never look back You'll never stop swimming You'll always be tracked Your life has transformed Your power has grown Your minions stretch for leagues For a bloodied coral throne A crown of murdered foes Will sit upon your head Those that wish to challenge you Will wish that they were dead The beasts of the sea will collect and submit Pray for your forgiveness and live as you permit

okay, pretty straightforward yet again. the protagonist is getting stronger, hiding away from the mermaids, gathering minions, killing those in his way. "the beasts of the sea will collect and submit." this is a warning.

And you say, "I am the water god You will bow to the water god You will live for the water god And you will die for the water god" [...] And the deities loom nearer They will find you

the power has gone to our protagonist's head. he is demanding fealty, proclaiming his own divinity, whilst the true divine beings continue to track him down.

okay. murmaider iii. let's look at the conclusion of this story.

The blackened deep The coral keep The dying king Will no one weep? Ruled in fury Incurred his debt This wretched prize Crown of regret Scavenger Savager Blasphemer Vile Violator Tormentor Murmaider Guile

once again, pretty straightforward. our protagonist, who had decided himself a water god, a ruler, is dying. he's been a vicious ruler, and he may have regrets over this, but he also may not wish to go back on anything he's done.

Within this dying sea The Murmaid Three arrive These witches have foreseen The end of everything

three hags with the power of foresight? damn that's crazy, i too love the three fates from greek mythology.

They say, "Your power blinds you Your DETH will find you Vengeance from your enemies Your kingdom crushed, your subjects bleed Refuse defiance Forge this alliance From the land (check), from the sky (check) And from the blackened fire"

so, the murmaid three are giving our protagonist a chance to avoid his fate of a vicious death. let's note, firstly, that the spelling DETH is important in mtl, as this is the spelling used when referring to the dethlights, and other divine power harnessed by dethklok. but looking past that because we haven't gotten to the analysis portion yet, our protagonist has already forged alliances with land and sky deities, just not from the deities of blackened fire. interesting, blackened fire is also a reoccurring theme in mtl, i wonder if that's important.

The end's approaching (We survive) Darkness encroaching (We survive) This nautic land (We survive) Our final stand (We will swim, check) We will swim (We will fight, check) We will fight (In the deep, check) In the deep

the protagonist doesn't seem to care about forging this alliance, instead choosing to fight.

The final dream The gleaming reef The silver light The murmaids sing The blackened fire The blazing sky The pluming ink The sea beast cry His final sleep But we survive

hey wow, namedropping "Murmaider," "Black Fire Upon Us," and "Blazing Star" all in one verse? damn that's crazy. anyway the protagonist fucking died, but "we" survives. i think the "we" is meant to be dethklok, like. just pretty clearly. nathan and dethklok have never been portraying anyone besides themselves in this series of songs, just singing to/about the protagonist.

anyway, i think this was all about salacia and the whale prophet, with salacia being our protagonist.

i think salacia, back when he was a proper god, fully fused with the four other souls, was a powerhungry god. at some point, he felt wronged by the whale prophet in some way or another, and he killed her child. the mermaids went to try to get vengeance on him, and they thought they killed him, but what they really did was separate the four souls from him, sending them into the doomstar.

salacia fled the ocean from her. now that he was so wounded and only at half his power and strength, staying in the water would allow the whale prophet to find him. this shark prophet in the story, though, is a figure that doesn't show up anywhere in mtl. but we know that salacia can change form, so, why not the whale prophet? though, yes, she wants vengeance too, but she also wants to see what he's capable of. she needs to know what she's up against, after all. she tells him just to rest up, wait for when she calls upon him. but he doesn't do that. he harnesses further power from her, using it to start a reign of terror.

eventually though, he realizes the truth of what/who she is, and he flees the water. out of the water, he no longer has connection to the whale prophet's power, and his own natural powers are dwindling. this would be around the time that he starts the tribunal in a final attempt to regain his lost power. the tribunal is his alliance with the land (check), and his attempt to seek power from the doomstar and the four souls is his alliance with the sky (check). that just leaves dethklok as the blackened fire. i'm not gonna go into a whole analysis of "black fire upon us" to prove i'm right, but they've been connected with the imagery of blackened fire for a long time...ughh i'll get into it in another post. but anyway, salacia doesn't foster an alliance with dethklok, instead using and harming them to get what he wants. the blazing doomstar endows dethklok with the power of the dethlights, and they use that power to send salacia back to the water, where the whale prophet devours him, finally getting her vengeance from what he'd done all those years ago.

this all might be a stretch. as i was finishing this, i was starting to think i was crazy, and maybe i am. maybe i'm way overthinking this, and we'll never truly know what the hell was going on with salacia and the whale prophet and all that god stuff. that's fine with me, tbh. but i hope you all like my little theory, this took me two hours to write once i thought of it while waiting for the bus.

#dichromaticdyke.exe #Metalocalypse #Army of the Doomstar #Salacia #The Whale Prophet #Dethklok #written in a fit of divine madness

[woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh]

All BMC Hidden Song Motifs

These are all the little tunes I’ve noticed sneakily (or not so sneakily) appearing outside of their own songs in the show! 

I did leave out the ones that are obviously the same because they repeat the lyrics (e.g. c-c-c-come on, it’s from Japan, etc), but I can add those too if enough people want.

If you have more, tell me and I'll add them! And if you have thoughts on why any of these appear where they do, pls post about it so I can read more meta sdjlkfsdjflk

More Than Survive:

Smartphone Hour chorus on synth during Jenna, Brooke, Chloe’s conversation [credit: @zabala0z]

Michael in the Bathroom chorus on synth during Jeremy & Michael’s conversation 

The Pants Song: chorus melody on guitar when Michael talks about "survival of the fittest" [credit: @aqueous-aerolite - tysm for IDing it!]

(Broadway) MTS reprise

Jeremy’s Theme at the end

Two Player Game

In scene: Michael in the Bathroom chorus on synth during their first exchange (“He’s scamming you super weirdly.”)

The Squip Enters

The Squip Song melody on synth right before the SQUIP appears: Helps you to be cooooool…. It helps… youuuu… [“Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor! Your SQUIP.”] ~~Ruuuuuuuule!~~

(Two Rivers) More Than Survive Reprise

Michael in the Bathroom on synth while the Squip scolds Jeremy for thinking about sex. (Still mostly inexplicable, but it’s technically a reuse of the dialogue music from More Than Survive, of which the only synth options were Smartphone Hour and Michael in the Bathroom.)

Michael’s reggae motif from More Than Survive at “Still not gonna be the cool guy”

(Broadway) Sync Up

The Squip Song: intro guitar riff plays when Rich talks to Jeremy

More Than Survive: MTS background chorus sings (‘na na na na na na na na’) with “ah”s in the musical interlude, then with “na”s at the end.

Guy that I’d Kinda Be Into

I Love Play Rehearsal: “I don’t always relate to other people my age” section is the same as “Most people do one thing for all of their lives” - the following lines match lyrics too.

More Than Survive: Christine’s bassline rhythm from the recurring motif of “Christine Christine Christine” (i.e. dotted quarter, eighth, half), originally from MTS, reappears during GTIKBI in the chorus, as well as the “I don’t always relate…” and “I guess a part of me likes to” sections.

Loser Geek Whatever

Two Player Game: the intro (“I already know what it’s like to be the loser”) is sung to the same melody as the main synth loop you can hear at the beginning of 2PG [credit: someone on the Genius page]

Touching My Hand: Not technically a motif, but I want to point out that the pre-chorus of LGW comes from Touching My Hand, a demo song that never made it into the show.

Michael in the Bathroom

(?) Knocking section could kind of evoke the staccato quarters that happen all throughout Halloween (eg, crank! the! bass!, and dunh dunh dunh it's halloween)

The Pants Song

(Broadway) “Michael in the Bathroom” on guitar when Michael says “Look, I already tried to help him, and called me a loser…” (THIS is hands down my favorite one btw. It’s one of the most obvious but that doesn’t stop it from stabbing me in the heart every time…)

The Play

Be More Chill: bass & guitar riff play when the Squip’s revealing its plan to infect humanity.

Jake enters: Jeremy’s Theme, then Upgrade

Chloe & Brooke enter: Do You Wanna Ride

Michael makes an ennnntraaaaance! (Michael in the Bathroom)

Two Player Game: pre-chorus during Michael and Jeremy’s fight (“kung fu fists, activate!”)  - and of course again the verse during their fight for the Dew.

Jenna enters: Smartphone Hour (the opening brass thumps)

Christine enters: I Love Play Rehearsal on flute - then she sings an altered version of GTIKBI

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy” is the same tune as “Christine, Christine, Christine.” (This one makes me go nuts actually. Like, that’s his deepest desire??? He just wants someone to love him as powerfully as he loves Christine????? AUUGH!!!!)

Loser Geek Whatever: verse melody plays on brass when he gives the Dew to Christine

Voices in My Head

Loser Geek Whatever: verse melody on piano during Christine and Jeremy’s conversation.

Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into: When Christine gives her answer about going out with him, they sing to the GTIKBI chorus melody, and a flute plays the GTIKBI bridge melody  (“I guess a part of me likes to”). Then when Christine says yes, it plays that bridge melody on piano.

ALSO: Overall character instruments?

Christine: flute & mallet percussion (i.e. glockenspiel, xylophone)

SQUIP: plucked guitar with tremolo, tubular bells. Edit: also the theremin [credit: @highlighter-goblin!]

(?) Rich: strummed guitar with distortion (Squip Song, Sync Up)

(?) Chloe & Brooke: plucked guitar with a Wah-wah pedal (DYWR/H)

(?) Jenna: low brass on staccato quarter notes

Yeah that's all I know of so far, but like I said please add on if you can think of more!!

#be more chill #bmc #jeremy heere #michael mell #im just tagging those two bc main character and guy whose motif plays like EVERY OTHER SONG #posts #text #ref #meta #like the littlest amount of meta i guess #everyone #my meta

[itgetsbetterproject]

📚 QUEERBOOK 2024 is hereee! We made a book by and for LGBTQ+ youth! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Last year, we asked LGBTQ+ youth: what's your idea of a "queer utopia?"

Not gonna lie - with more than 150 bills introduced in 35 states in 2023 that aimed to restrict student access to inclusive and diverse books and other library materials, the theme felt pretty radical.

And you DELIVERED. With the help of our Youth Voices (amazing queer youth activists from across the country), we compiled your amazing submissions of poetry, short essays and letters, visual art, photography, and more into Queerbook 2024. Like a yearbook, it captures what queer youth are feeling, going through, and hoping for - right here, right now across the U.S.

It's also no accident that it's the perfect small-ish size to stash in your locker or backpack so you can crack it open any time you're looking for some queer connection. :3

Read some more about the book and grab your own limited-run copy of Queerbook 2024 now here.

#itgetsbetter #queerbook #lgbtq youth #queer youth #trans youth #queer lit #lgbtq books #studyblr #lgbtqia

[melodyofthevoid]

The Crane Wives Analyzed: Coyote Stories

(Yes I’m changing the verb every time I think it’s funny)

The mellower of the albums, this focuses on the self. Songs of introspection and reflection. From the firmly anti-capitalism “Hand That Feeds” to the melancholic “Never Love an Anchor”. It isn’t to say there aren’t any moments of intensity. In fact, the vocalists have moments of growls deep and hungry as the eponymous coyotes themselves.

Keep You Safe 

It is human instinct to shield oneself from danger, from the fear of the unknown. The pitfalls of anxiety make any risk feel insurmountable and an eternity is spent looking from the outside in. The singer’s feelings took root in childhood, nerves keeping them from climbing trees in fear of a fall, of hurting themself. Believing that they weren’t strong enough, brave enough, weren’t enough to even attempt to try. Watching their friends from a distance as they made it to the heights that inspired such fear. 

And then the thesis: Nothing in life comes easy, spoken from a father to a child. Being afraid of the world, of the future, it’s a security blanket. An easy escape that fails to fix any real problems, it won’t truly keep you safe. Waiting and hoping to just suddenly become brave, or strong enough, it won’t happen. 

As the singer ages the fears shift, collecting over the years. Not limited to only heights and falling, but grander more existential threats. Fears collected from those around them, accumulated from the news, from loved ones, from friends, trapping the singer in a new web they fear they can’t escape from. They carry them, all of their untold regrets, all of the plans abandoned by the wayside, and remember what their father told them. 

Knowing that mistakes will occur no matter what is one thing, acting is another. That first step can appear insurmountable, an eternal obstacle to one’s dreams and ambitions. Because what if? What if this step is a mistake? What if this leads to ruin? What if- What if. How can one say “come what may” when all their life they’ve let that fear paralyze them? 

It’s no easy feat, it’s hard, and sometimes, you will fail. But some of the most beautiful parts of life come from those risks, and it’s worth it in the end to climb that tree, pursue that dream, try to be better, braver, because time will pass anyways. You’re no safer in the dark than in the light, so why not? 

The Moon Will Sing 

Often the Sun and Moon are tied together in symbolism as a pair of mutual lovers or siblings, each with their own beauty. But the truth is that the Moon is simply a ball of rock, reflecting the light of the Sun back to Earth. It doesn’t shine on its own. Forever caught in Earth’s orbit circling around the larger star. Waxing and waning, glowing a faint cold imitation in the night sky. 

So too does the singer reflect their partner, a hollowed out shell that only feels worth when they’re with their lover. Being who they’re told to be, in spite of knowing that they at one time possessed the power to be anyone yet they let their partner, their sun, make that choice for them, guide them through the dark. Never once questioning their decisions. The slow guitar a quiet melancholy companion in their lament. 

Their heart is empty, bare of any love, endless empty rooms of what could’ve been reminding the singer constantly and yet the weight of a decade’s worth of blind trust and manipulation leave them apathetic. Lying in the dusty bed with their lover wondering what it was truly worth. There’s the implication that they’ve both made their peace with the exhaustion, but it’s impossible to know how their Sun feels. Only the mutual acceptance that this is all that there is. 

The chorus entreats to the Moon to sing a song for them, to share in their plight. The only being to understand their pain and tell their story. They know that they love their partner like the sun, bearing the brunt of their darkness and claiming that they had no light of their own. Yet who told them that? Their partner? Others in their life? Regardless of where the belief came from, they shine only –in their eyes– with the light given to them. With the person they’d become. 

Perhaps emboldened by the realization that this relationship, who they’d become is not who they want to be, they confront their partner. Lamenting all of who they once were that they’d lost to their lover. Hoarded, implying a theft that’s left them without. All of the words bitten back over the years leaving wounds inside, they want to be themselves again. Have the fire and bite that they’ve so long been denied. 

It’s a story without a resolution, a dance with no ending. A moon trapped in the orbit of a sun. 

Allies or Enemies 

It happens on occasion, a word slips out without meaning to. Maybe it’s been a long day, or week, a hard time in general. Maybe patience that typically let issues slide before ran out, and you let out a statement in closed quarters that felt good to say, yet it wasn’t genuine. Authentic. Yet someone overheard, and now it’s a problem. It started a fight, and you’re left with the question of what happens next? 

The singer’s words are destructive, in their own admission, wildfires and weeds that spread far beyond where they started them. Plaguelike in their transmission. Perhaps it was frustration that tinged their vision red and let loose pointed insults, weaknesses they knew the other had but promised to never target. A threat they didn’t mean. They swear that they didn’t mean it, voice dropping lower before swelling again as they ask their partner to listen to them. That moment of weakness wasn’t meant to be heard, using the turn of phrase “you owe me ears for dropping eaves” to call their partner out for listening in. Asking for the moment to be forgotten before asking the titular question: are we allies or enemies?

The third verse reminisces on better times when an off comment or heated moment could be dispelled with a joke. Anger fizzling into nothing. Now it’s different, now the anger lingers and the air grows cold. They’re fighting now and it hurts, neither happy about the situation and the singer pleading for the “war” to stop. 

Because the options are now to either give their relationship another try or to bow out, walk away from one another. And in spite of the troubles they’ve had, the singer wants to try again. They want to put the war to bed and love again, to be let in and try to remedy what’s been done. Still the uncertainty remains, are they in fact allies or enemies? 

Unraveling 

Love and loss run as constant themes throughout The Crane Wives’ discography, the latter serving as the origin of so much hurt. Formerly happy memories sour, the relationship that once brought out the best in you now falls apart. That support system shattering, especially if the relationship meant more to one party than the other. 

In the midst of the journey, one can forget that there was ever a problem, as the singer recalls. Their first love a tailor, who took to them as though they were a project. Eagerly attending to their needs, “stitches neat and clean”. And now that love is gone, the work unfinished, and the singer is unraveling. 

Each love following carries a different title, a gardener, a carpenter, each using their skill sets to fix in the only ways they know how. The gardener plucks away weeds and trims the excess, the carpenter carves a smile and sands down the edges, and each one leaves in the end. Each change that they made a source of suffering now that they’re gone. With the “weeds” plucked away and without a hand to tend, the singer is withering. The carpenter sanded the edges but those held them together and now cracks are widening. 

The singer laments that they didn’t understand how much they needed those they were with, and while this may be a “taken for granted” statement, in the broader context of the song it’s a realization of how intertwined they became in their relationships. 

Their last love married them, “tied me up in knots” or in plain terms, tied the knot. The line before that “kissed me once before he left” implies perhaps a draft or war, a brief love where the pair married before they were likely ready. He left, promising to come back home and then never returning. 

A personal interpretation is that all of the lovers: the tailor, the gardener, the carpenter, the man, are all the same person. The singer lamenting the different aspects of him now that he’s gone. The “you” in “I never knew I needed you” could very well be singular or plural, but I feel that’s up for interpretation. 

Hard Sell 

Fun part of growing up, as I and others have discovered, is the fact that no one has it all together. Everyone’s just making things up as they go along to the best of their ability. Which kind of sucks honestly when you first hit that revelation. Because all your life you’ve operated under the assumption that adults know what’s going on. That people in charge have a plan. But no, actually. 

And that makes life tricky at best. Much to the singer’s chagrin. Each day they get up and do their best to make something out of their lives, pushing aggressively on good days to buy into the “hard sell” of the way life is supposed to go. A hard sell, in marketing terminology, is an overly forceful sales tactic. High pressure and meant to close a deal. When things are going well, the singer can swallow the bitter pill. Most of the time there’s nothing they can get a grip on, it either tears into them or falls apart at the slightest touch. Moth wings and barbed wire. 

It’s tearing them apart too, their voice stopping and starting in sentences as though on the verge of the breakdown that they’re warning they’re on the brink of. They want a respite, someone to come in, wipe their tears away and say it’s alright. Comfort is in short supply in a world obsessed with profits and success. Where not having it all together is a badge of shame. 

They ask if it’s really just them who can’t get their life in perfect order? Is everyone pretending to have it all wrapped up in a nice little bow? They’re holding on with a loose thread of their own but they keep pulling at it. Trying to get closer to perfection or tear it all apart. 

The compulsion to pick and tear at any flaw or imperfection comes with the desire to eliminate them. Because if you can pull away the holes, maybe there’s something worthwhile underneath. “A better me”. There isn’t, not one that can be revealed like this. 

They plead for everyone to stop pretending for a moment, so maybe they could all be honest with themselves. Maybe then they could all actually figure things out. Be a little kinder. Or maybe not, and it’s all a mess regardless. 

Rock Slide 

A quick, breezy song, running fast and sudden as the titular event. A distinctly Folk™ aesthetic, the kind of song passed down and sang with a small town dance. It swings and swirls and then lets you go. 

The singer feels the oncoming disaster coming from the mountain top, warning their lover that they’d better skip town and run before the rock slide buries them alive. They’d only just arrived, just planted roots but the singer insists they have to go lest “the devil come to claim them”. 

It seems the pair have tumbled their way from town to town, and there’s something on the horizon that gives the singer reason to fear that their time is up and they have to go. Sprinting away without looking back. 

Why are they running? What are they running from? The law? Are they con-artists? Is their relationship forbidden, and they have to go before they’re found out and killed? The line “that monster’s coming and it don’t care for you or me” seems to point towards the latter, with a pursuing force that will never stop. Sees them as less than human. 

A brief song, one of a few on this album, but a fun one. 

Metaphor 

Ah the metaphor, that favorite of literary devices. A comparison that can dress up any subject, turning the mundane into the extraordinary. Blood red sunsets, the infinite diamond tapestry of the night sky, they accentuate, and in some cases, obfuscate. Like the lyrics in many of the songs in the Crane Wives’ repertoire, the singer relies on metaphor to obscure the meaning of their words. Dressing their language in borrowed phrases and secondhand expressions picked up from others to keep themselves apart, separate. Their intentions untrustworthy at face value.

Because sometimes it’s easier to keep cards close to the chest and become a character rather than let someone in. If one wraps themselves in enigma, then they don’t have to worry how others see them, they control their perception. It’s safe, it’s clean. 

They keep no secrets, no skeletons in their closet, because instead they dig graves. They cut contact, they leave. Or perhaps they’re the one who’s been left before. Once bitten and twice shy, no longer willing to expose the truth of themselves for fear that it will be turned against them. They beg for you not to look too deeply into the words they say, to look at them for too long, lest you see the scars. 

And again they acknowledge that they’ve honed their skills, stretching the truth into sweet meaningless fluff. Cotton candy, without substance and liable to fade away at the slightest touch. Untrustworthy, as they’ve made themselves to be. 

The Hand That Feeds 

The anti-capitalist anthem we need in these trying times. All the more relevant with the rising surge of unions in the United States in the wake of years of abuse from those in power. A personal recommendation, if you can listen to a live recording of this song, please do. It will make you want to yell and scream the song in tandem as a fair warning, but it’s so worth it.

It’s a tale as old as time, the dream of working hard, earning a living, and making it for yourself in America. Yet, that dream serves as nothing more than fantasy, an empty promise obscuring the harsh reality. There’s no escape from the rat-race, no reward for a job well done. Any and all hope dashed against the grindstone. Those who come home from their jobs howl their laments to the sky, forced to work themselves to the bone in order to even scrape out a living. Chained to their jobs, nothing more than mere animals to the greater system. 

The chorus echoes sentiments of early work folk songs, coins clinking together in otherwise empty pockets. No real money but the bare minimum that makes noise in its lacking. It gives the song an aged quality, as though it came from the Great Depression where coins were often all a family had to feed themselves. Now pocket change can’t even buy a meal anywhere. They can’t stop the time either as it passes, generations stuck in the same cycles of poverty wages under the same circumstances and masters. 

The singer’s family endured this injustice, their father having traded his youth, his heath, his dreams for the Great American Ruse. Selling pieces of himself for cheap to put food on the table. But he warns his child to take their own path. He wanted to give them a better life than the one he’s made. Don’t follow his example or they’d have squandered those years of work. 

He taught them how to stand up for themselves, to not merely take what they’ve been handed and be grateful for the scraps. They deserve better, they are better. And the hand that feeds earns no loyalty, especially when it turns cruel and strikes those it deems lesser than. If you are a dog to them, remind them that a dog has teeth. 

And so the child raises their voice, proclaiming that their freedom is worth more than a paycheck. That the empty promise of becoming rich means servitude to the rich. They’ll never have them. 

Remember: you’re not a temporarily embarrassed millionaire. You have more in common with the man you see on the side of the road than you do any ceo. Any set of unfortunate circumstances could land you destitute. There’s power in numbers if the recent wave of strikes has shown anything. They rely on the man to make their numbers go up. 

Remind the hand that feeds that it still has fingers because we let it. 

Little Soldiers 

Love, war, two subjects that go hand in hand. The ever dragging drudgery of attempting to salvage a relationship when it’s devolved into nothing but fighting. It’s a familiar subject for the Crane Wives, and herein is the aftermath. The words they’d used to hurt one another the soldiers in the war, each side dug in and yet holding hands across enemy lines. (Perhaps the war in “Allies or Enemies” finally coming to a close). Pretending that everything was fine.

The singer swears that they loved their partner once. The line repeated at a near yell, as if daring them to challenge this fact. It’s frantic, desperate. And yet all too exhausted at the end of the war.

Each side resorted to dirty tricks and low moments in their fighting. Their partner would offer their secrets to others and let the “dogs” hurt them, hounds of the war. And the singer would bring their grievances to every room in their home, never giving a moments peace and yet their lover would hold them at night anyways.

Now they’re left without their lover and they swear they were loved once. That it meant something once.

At the bridge they concede that the whole thing is a loss, but not out of surrender. They’d each tried to make it work, afraid to give up for varying reasons. They’d done their best. It wasn’t enough.

And it’s over, the silence ringing with the remnants of war songs. Boxes packed as their lover moves away and leaves at the end of it all. The singer fought tooth and nail until the end and yet… it was futile. Their lover already left. Perhaps the war was more one sided than they initially thought.

The imagery of war, the trenches, coming home in boxes, it brings to mind thoughts of futility. Wars that never end with no “winner”. No resolution. They affirm, quiet now, that they swear that they loved their partner once. Then louder as they face the aftermath of the war. Left to pick up the pieces.

Sleeping Giants 

A song of awakening, starting off with the same rocking guitar from “Rock Slide”, both involving mountains. There’s a force rolling down the mountains, power rising in the land and rushing into their veins. Every aspect of nature from the moon to the trees are changing, there’s an uprising. An energy. Something is calling now, and it wants the singer to follow. 

Another one with not a lot going on lyrically, but it’s a rocking good time to listen to. 

Of Everlong 

A short and sweet melody, a melancholy lament of only vocals. A soft lullaby reminiscent of older bluegrass. A song of distance and a journey. Mourning for a lover to let them go after they’ve died, because in the end they belong to them. 

It’s a departure from their other songs, barely coming in at over a minute long, but it highlights how magical their harmonies are. 

Not much to say here, but a pleasure to listen to. 

Never Love an Anchor 

Oh where to begin with this song. How does one describe a wound? A hole where a heart goes? Knowing that they hurt when they were meant to heal. A role they were never meant to fill and failed to live up to. 

“On some level I think I always understood that these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever”. Off the bat the song hits with the self awareness that there is so much they could do but knowing that the attempt would break things, that they are clumsy. No skill to be found. And yet their heart it is “guilty not remorseful”. They keep this fact locked away but they know. They know that they’re failing, but don’t feel remorse. They fear their true feelings would be overbearing and thus keep them away, opting for neglect instead. 

The singer is an anchor, keeping their loved one weighed down in their mind. So they cut them loose. Set them sailing away. Letting the distance grow until they couldn’t hurt the other anymore. A necessary separation that leaves the singer forever wondering. Stuck in what-if scenarios, unsure of whether to breach the gap between them or to leave it be. How are they doing now? Better? Worse? Do they resent the lack of effort or understand? Do they deserve that understanding at all?

The paradox of being “someone I have loved but never known”. How do you unpack that? It evokes so many images of moments where love could be shown but was said. Small actions never done to prove that love. The barest bones of a relationship there, yet never explored, never encouraged. Even the singer acknowledges this, wondering if they’re ever thought of, wondering if there’s questions as to why they did what they did. Never tending to a fever, never holding gently. 

Others have spoken on the selfish nature of the singer, calling them cruel and callous. And they acknowledge this. And yet they wonder what the other thinks of them. Wonders if their failings outweigh the harm they might have caused if they had tried. 

Then there is the final line. “And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you.” What else is there to say? That the singer gave up before ever fully trying. That they resigned themselves to not getting attached so they wouldn’t have to bear the heartache themselves. They are selfish, and they leave whoever the song is addressed to with that knowledge. 

It is the failings of a parent, someone meant to love, the failing of a partner who doesn’t know and doesn’t want to risk themselves. It leaves the listener hollow, with the knowledge they did nothing wrong, but that they had no way of fixing something they likely threw themselves at in vain. 

The instruments in the back only heighten the emptiness, with a soft melancholic guitar and light drums as the only accompaniment. There is no anger in this sadness, no entreating. Only the sound in the space. 

New Discovery

A wistful wandering, that feeling that comes when the sun peeks through the clouds and breaks the fog. Expanding horizons broader than ever thought possible. If “Safe Ship, Harbored” lamented a shrinking horizon, then this declares a new journey. A yearning for more than what they have because they deserve more than simply staring at the water forever. They want to find something new, untouched, see beauty the world’s never known. What good is the world if everything’s already been seen? What’s the point of staying only within the known? 

It’s easy to get lost in the repetition of life though, when the days roll by like an endless desert. Rolling dunes identical to the naked eye. Yet, one can continue through, seeing the path behind them, a reminder that they’ve come a long way and there’s further to go. Pick a direction, and go. Keep going, and don’t waste the work you’ve done up to that point. 

The singer cries their hopes to the heavens, that they want something to be left for them, something new to discover, something more to life. Something waiting for them if they only try. 

And of love, the singer wants a love that’s ever changing. That as the years go on, as age alters their bodies and weathers their souls, they want to find something new to love. To never fully know their lover and find a new way to love them all over again. There can always be more, if they’re willing to discover it.

#the crane wives #my writing #melody rambles #lord this took a while sorry folks #it's been a Time #hopefully I finish Foxlore and the singles before the next album comes out lmao #at least there were a few short ones in here that didn't take much #to no one's shock the first of these I completed was never love an anchor

[butmakeitgayblog]

I cried so hard when Tracy performed. What she’s been through all those years is heartbreaking and now look at her. An ageless goddess with a voice still smooth as butter. The recognition is long overdue. And when the camera panned to Brandi Carlile and her wife? Oh i was done for. That performance was so healing honestly

She just, she has so much of my admiration. And I'm glad a new generation is getting to experience her talent. You're talking about a woman whose first big appearance was to a crowd pf 60,000 people 😳. 60,000 who were agitated and hot and pissed off because they'd come to see Stevie Wonder, only to find out he wasn't coming on (highkey I'd pissed too), and so they just plunked her on stage instead because she was the only artist there who could play without needing any setup. Just her, and her guitar, and her poetry turned into songs. And by the second chorus everyone had shut the fuck up just to listen to her and feel her music.

Who has that kind of power? That presence? Very few. And what gets me every time I watch that original set, you can hear how nervous she was. Like that had to have been so unbelievably overwhelming. And then you hear her voice break when she hits that "I had feeling I could be someone" like YES BITCH YOU CAN AND YOU WILL BECAUSE GOD IS A WOMAN AND HER NAME IS TRACY CHAPMAN

And I know she's hella private (rip literally all the people I love are 😭) and doesn't talk about her life, but also we all know she's a 🍓🥭🍐🍏 which 😎

Also, look at that face

Look at that face and that joy 🥺 I just wanna pinch her cheekies she's so precious

#anon

[bleedingoptimism]

 AU that lives in my head

It’s ‘92, there’s no upside down and Steve is going to college to be a physical therapist.

He works nights at a bar with Robin, they live together and are very broke but very happy, he is set on not failing school and proving his parents wrong but he's a slow learner, the good grades don’t come easily and he is constantly distracted by pretty faces so he's adamant on not dating until he's done with school.

So he works nights, goes to school in the afternoons and hangs out with his kids in his free time.

Eddie owns a music shop in town that has a special room all decorated for D&D nights and that's how he meets the kids.

But the way that he meets Steve is because one night the bar is hosting a bachelorette party (Chrissy's) and the guy who was supposed to put on a show (nothing too scandalous because all of Chrissy's friends are prudes) cancels last minute and the bar owner tells Steve,

“I will pay you double if you go out there and sing”

And Steve says “No, no way” but the owner insists, 

"Triple if you grab that guitar, take off your clothes and sing two songs!" 

And Steve does obviously, because its easy money and they need it so he's thrown on the stage with only an acoustic guitar that (barely) covers his junk, ("Wait you didn't tell what song!?")

Eddie is sitting close to the bar because he can't stand Chrissy's other friends, making small talk with the barwoman and his mouth hits the ground when Steve appears on stage (Robin's mouth does too but Eddie doesn't see that) 

The guy looks shocked for a millisecond before smiling and saying “Ahoy ladies” and then immediately cringes (the barwoman behind him starts cackling) but the guy on stage takes a deep breath and then starts talking to the audience flirting up a storm and the audience is eating it up, he asks for songs requests and sits on a stool carefully, all the time making sure everything is covered.

He actually uses one hand to adjust himself behind the guitar before crossing his legs (making his audience shuffle trying to get a look) and Eddie thinks ‘big boy’.

When the man asks for requests Eddie yells Metallica just to be an asshole but he perks up and says "Oh, one of my kids has been listening to this song nonstop" before he starts tuning the guitar, Eddie thinks 'He has kids?? He looks so young.' 

So this guy, this David by Michellangelo starts playing ‘Nothing else matters’ and he's not really good with the guitar, mostly playing something resembling the right tune but these people would not know the difference, only Eddie does and he doesn't give a shit because his voice!

His voice is amazing, he’s doing an acoustic, soft version that sounds incredible and he has range, he sounds so good, and he sings looking at his audience with soft eyes that close on the chorus like he’s feeling every word and Eddie is kind of in love.

 When the song is done everyone claps, the audience is enraptured and Eddie claps really loud but not as loud as the barwoman behind him who keeps yelling "Yeah! go Steve!! that's my babyman!!!"

Steve, his name is Steve.

So Steve asks for one last song and Chrissy asks for Don Mclean and he lights up and says American Pie is one of his favorites and he sings with passion and makes everyone join him for the last part with encouraging smiles and winks and its great and Eddie write odes about the naked man with the guitar in his head all the while.

 Then he's off the stage and Eddie wants to ask the barwoman if he's a regular but before he can Steve shows up with the same black shirt she’s wearing and she screams, runs towards him and jumps, he catches her easily as she says, “That was fuckign amazing dude”

 “I’m never doing that again” 

“I saw your ass, it's great!” she says laughing excitedly and Eddie snorts, making them both look at him, Steve smiles bashfully and says to both of them, “Yeah, sorry about that” 

And Eddie, can't help himself says, “Don't be”

Steve turns red and Eddie suddenly feels hungry but he takes a step back, doesn't want to come on too strong and says “You were great, the singing I mean”

“Thanks?, thank you.”

“I’m serious, you have an amazing voice, and the guitar wasn't half bad”

And Steve laughs prettily and says, “My guitar was shit man” and Eddie is freaking out because this guy is fucking gorgeous.

They talk some more, he learns both Robin and Steve have been working at the bar for almost a year now and that that little stunt with the guitar was the first and last time is ever going to happen and Eddie thinks he’s really lucky if that's the case, he says that much just to watch Steve blush again and Robin laugh, he flirts just a little more and then goes back to Chrissy when he gets the hint that, although Steve looks interested he’s not getting his number tonight.

Robbin slaps Steve when Eddie leaves, “Why didn't you get his number?” and Steve reminds her about his rule of no pretty faces while he’s studying.

Next time Eddie sees Steve is when he’s hosting D&D at his shop. They are wrapping up and the kids are leaving but Mike’s car won’t start and he’s cursing and hitting his wheel. It’s raining heavily so Dustin, Lucas and Will are waiting inside and Dustin says, “I think we should call mom”

“No way he said we shouldn't bother him unless it's an emergency, he’s got a big test on monday!” Lucas says and Eddie thinks ‘mom?? He??? Test? What??’

But Mike comes back inside furious “Lets fucking call mom!” he says as if he knew exactly what they were talking about.

So Dustin asks Eddie to use his phone and while he’s calling, Eddie asks Will “Who’s mom?”

“Oh he’s just a friend of ours, but he’s older and really overprotective so we call him mom, it's an inside joke” he shrugs, and Lucas looks at Eddie very seriously and says,

“Not in front of him so please, if he shows up” and mimics closing his mouth with a zip.

Mike look super pissed about having to call this guy so Eddie asks him if he doesnt like him, and Mike, exasperated says “No, I fucking love him and if any of you say that to him I will kill you” and Eddie is really confused. 

Especially when, who actually shows up is Steve but like a completely different Steve from the guy he saw at the bar, that one had dark fitting jeans and an obscenely tight shirt and carefully styled hair and this one? This one is wearing a comfy yellow sweater and gray sweatpants and his hair is a mess and he’s wearing glasses and Eddie is having a breakdown because he doesnt know which one is hotter.

Steve runs to the shop because it's still pouring outside and once he’s in he doesn't even get to talk because Mike is on him instantly, “Steve! This fuckign car man! It keeps breaking and I did everything you told me, I take care of it! I’m so sick-!”

Steve calms him down first, talks him out of destroying the poor thing and says “We’ll look into it,ok?”

Then he finally greets the others, hugs them all and Dustin says “Sorry for bothering you when you were studding man” and Steve messes up with hair,

“Its ok I need it a break anyways” 

He’s so nice with the kids. It's so cute and Eddie thinks ‘oh, his kids, now I get it’ with a smile and that’s when Steve sees Eddie and goes red all over but Eddie saves face and introduces himself as if they don't know each other.

Steve is still blushing but he smiles and makes small talk for a while, then says “Well, let's look at the car”

Mike complains about the rain but Steve says “Sorry kid but I need to get back to studying, I'll check it out, you can stay inside” 

Mike sighs “No, no I told you, I want to learn lets go”

Steve hesitates before going out, whispers ‘I can't get sick tho’ and takes off his sweater and throws it to Will “Here, hold this for me BB?”

Will catches it ungracefully and blushes.

Eddie thinks it's a small miracle he’s wearing a white tank top underneath but as soon as they step outside they are both drenched and the top becomes a curse.

To distract himself he asks Will about the nickname and Will says it mean Baby Byers, “Steve is friends with my older brother so growing up Jonathan was Byers and I was Baby Byers”

Lucas whispers to Eddie that Will might like that nickname a little too much and Eddie chuckles and thinks he can't really blame him, they are all staring at them trying to find out what wrong with the car, well the kids are, Eddie is staring at Steve’s shoulders, his arms, his chest, for some reason even tho he’s already seen him practically naked, the tank top and the rain and the fact that he’s fixing a car is making it much worse.

He hears Lucas tell Dustin “He’s going to cause another accident man” and Dustin laughs so Eddie asks them,

“Another?” and Lucas tells him they once saw a girl run head first into an open car door on her bike for staring at Steve and they all start laughing.

Steve helps Mike fix the car and they high five and go back inside looking triumphant, the kids say it's getting late and while Steve dries with a towel Eddie just handed him and puts his sweater back on (small mercies) they say their goodbyes, after they leave Steve hangs around looking awkward, Eddie thinks he gets why so he tells him, “Listen man, I won't say anything about that show at the bar if that's what you are worried about”, and Steve laughs and says,

“What? No, they already know I work at a bar and Robin already told them about the impromptu concert, they laughed their asses off. I was actually going to ask you not to tell Mike I butchered his favorite song” 

Eddie laughs and tells him once again he didn’t, he was amazing. And if he sounds way too enamored when he says it, they both pretend not to notice.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #i drew something #i wrote something

[putschki1969]

【Lawson】What To Buy Part 3【Convenience Store】

Hello, this is Hikaru. Thank you for watching! This time, in response to your requests, I made a third video about my convenience store purchases 🛍️ Even though I am not mentioning it here, you can also buy soft kelp and tapioca milk tea at Lawson😋 If you have any items you often buy or would recommend, please let me know ☺️Please also send your video suggestions, I am always looking for new ideas 📝 [Introduced] ・Karaage kun ・Soft natto ・Kikyo Shingen Mochi Dora Mochi ・Mochi wheat bread cheese cream & double berry ・Salad chicken stick olive & cheese

“FEATURES” Acoustic Live Report

Yesterday, Hikaru was busy rehearsing for her upcoming acoustic live. Don't forget to tune in for today's live!! (Tweet by Hikaru | Tweet 2 by Hikaru) Following her first solo tour as freelance artist, Hikaru will be holding an acoustic live on March 17. It will be a live streaming concert so everyone can watch it. Hikaru will perform her songs from the album “FEATURES” ♪ Title: Stream LIVE “Hikaru Acoustic LIVE 2024 -FEATURES-” Date: March 17 (Sun)Time: 17:00~ Ticket sales start 🎫 2/10 0:00~ Ticket price: 3,500 (overseas credit cards accepted) Archive period: 7 days Link: https://musicchamp.page.link/PJByVDREEbTmdRf77 ※The ticket needs to be bought within the Music Champ app. Please download the app!

As always, I will do some live commenting as I watch the concert even though I am not too familiar with her new songs so I will probably not have a lot to say about them T_T Also not the biggest fan of an acoustic guitar-only accompaniment but that's a personal preference XD First things first, her shirt/blouse looks great, especially with the pearl necklace.

1.Flow: I recall not particularly liking the studio version. Can't say the acoustic arrangement has changed my opinion unfortunately. Still appreciate her vocals though. 2.Embrace: Very excited how this will turn out since I do enjoy the studio version quite a bit. Nice reverb effect. The verses sound amazing, obsessed with the way she sings the "mirai..." part. And the bridge with the “ai yueni…” is lovely. 3.Awe: "Embrace" and "Awe" back to back, YESSS! This honestly gets better every time I listen to it. Don't even mind when Hikaru gets a bit shouty because it works so well for this song. 4.Treasure: Meh... I'll admit that this doesn't do anything for me. Couldn't even remember listening to it before although I most definitely did. 5.Under the Rain: Ohhh, did not expect this song to make an appearance. Thought Hikaru would be focusing solely on her "Features" tracks for this acoustic live. Very happy. The chorus isn't my cup of tea but I love the melody in the verses. And the scene from the play will always be a personal favourite. Wow, the raspy voice Hikaru uses towards the end is pretty cool. Think this is my favourite rendition of the song so far. 6.Remain: Can't pinpoint what bothers me about the song but I am not a fan. 7.Escape: The acoustic version is better than the studio version I think. Not quite as chaotic. Still not my favourite. 8.Survivor: Feel quite nostalgic about Hikaru's first song as freelance artist. Solid performance. 9.奇跡/Kiseki: Still very fond of the melody during the instrumental section but the rest of the song is just okay I guess...Not even the lalala part works for me, it's a shame T_T

#kalafina #hikaru #video #hikaru ch. #Hikaru Solo Tour 2024 #Hikaru LIVE TOUR 2024 -FEATURES- #Hikaru Acoustic LIVE 2024 -FEATURES- #report