musicrunsthroughmysoul

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Tower Records, Tacoma Washington, 1978

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Marsha Hunt singing at The Isle of Wight Music Festival on Saturday 30th August 1969

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Look at him🥰 Happy Thursday 🥰

Mike, the most beautiful man ♥️

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Hair to Stay Magazine

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Naming the female razor brand Venus is so personally offensive to me....you think Venus the goddess of love and sex and beauty was shaving her PUSSY? Go kill yourself

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It's so funny to have written something that you forgot you wrote and then be surprised at the unexpected twists as you read...your own story.

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it is a truth universally acknowledged that having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card

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My reaction to me being organized is very predictable: I open the documents folder of my PC, think that I'll immediately see all of my WTH-related documents, don't see them as I scroll down a bit and go "WHAT!?", and then remember that they're all in a separate folder in my creative writing folder, and go, "Oh."

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Today I'm remembering Pebbles LaDime "Dime" Doe.

A Black trans woman killed for showing up as her true authentic self. She was only 24 years old.

(x)

Her case was the first federal trial for a hate crime based on the victim's gender identity.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

the problem with ordering food is that you’re immediately like I shouldn’t have done that…….i shouldn’t have spent that money…….but then the food arrives and is so delicious (and GOOD FOR YOU!) and you live to smile another day.

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I looked at the clock and it was 12:02pm, and the next thing I knew it was 12:52pm, and I wondered where the hell the time went so quickly.

And for about 45 of those minutes I spent editing and re-reading this part (not the whole thing, which is about eleven pages) to my WIP, WTH. So, I'm putting it - just the first page of it - here. FOR FUN. 👀 And it's a little spicy, but not too spicy, imo. (The rest of it that I am excluding is, shall we say, ghost pepper spicy. Keepin' that to myself! In addition to way more angst than I even included here, because I will never just do smut or fluff or whatever. There will be angst!)

“Hey, little baby is your daddy home, Did he go and leave you all alone? I got a bad desire, Oh, oh, oh I'm on fire”

Eric sat on the train, sometimes noticing bright lights from ships far off in the distance, but most of the time unable to see anything out the window that – paired with the bright lights of the train cars – hindered the ability to see anything beyond the cold, inky darkness outside. He wasn't too interested in what was happening outside the train, anyway; he was much more preoccupied by a song he'd never paid much attention to that was now stuck in his head on a loop.

After hearing Will sing the first verse, he'd paused, listening, and wondering if there would be more...and it only just occurred to him that had been Will's plan.

As soon as he'd picked up the phone, Eric had clutched the phone to his ear as though hanging onto a lifeline as Will had softly crooned those lyrics into his ear. He waited for more, or waited for Will to say something, and it seemed like he had sat there on the couch clutching his phone for ten minutes, when in reality, it had only been two or three, and finally Eric burst out with, “If you pick me up from the station, I'll be on the next train.” He listened intently enough that he heard Will hum, almost as though humming the next verse but stopping short of going too far into it, and then, “I'll be there.” Will waited for a few more seconds, and then hung up. Eric, so stunned as he was over being serenaded over the phone, loosened his grip on the phone slightly, but didn't put it back onto its cradle for over a minute after Will had hung up. When he did finally hang up the phone, he sat still for a few seconds, his hands on his knees, thinking, before he jumped up to pack his bag so that he could make it to the train station before the last train left for the night.

As he sat back in his seat, his dreadlocks lightly pressed into the head rest, he realized that he hadn't even wondered what had happened for Will to call him, singing a song about an all-consuming desire.

He did fondly remember the week before, when he'd spent that weekend with Will hiking in Ireland, and then their time together in the hotel before they had to leave. He supposed that if he ever thought he'd stop having strange but interesting conversations with Will, at least this new development didn't make him think Will would stop being strange and interesting to him any time soon.

In addition to being endlessly kind and unfairly handsome, anyway, Eric thought to himself with a smug smile.

He thought again of the song that Will had sung to him, and he strained to remember more of the lyrics – the ones Will hadn't allowed him to be privy to hear just yet. Now if that isn't the sign of a tease, I don't know what is.

“Hey little girl, is your daddy home, Did he go away and leave you all alone?”

At least he was pretty certain those were the actual lyrics. A Springsteen song, he thought. Did Will change the lyrics? Hm. I suppose it'd be pretty silly to sing that to me, but, still...

He tried to remember more of the lyrics. There was only one other person in the car with him, as he'd noticed that there tended to be fewer passengers on the last train of the night, and he took the risk of humming the song softly to himself, to see if the tune fit any other words he could think of.

Something something...”Baby, is he good to you? Can he do the things”...that I'd love to do to you? Hmm.

He spent the better part of the train ride trying to remember the words, but the best that he could come up with that he knew ran throughout the song was, “Ooh-oh-oh, I'm on fire”. His thoughts otherwise were occupied by the self-analysis of Why in the world did I simply agree to get on a train without another thought, all because a man called me up and sang to me? His answer arrived when he looked down: remembering the sound of Will's voice as he'd sung to him, his trousers tightened slightly – not enough for anyone but him to notice, he hoped. Except for Will. He'd most definitely notice. And the resulting grin... He had to grin to himself at the thought, even as his trousers tightened more.

Of course, it was also his weekend, so he really didn't have anything to worry about, which was at least partly why he so easily suggested he get on the train to see Will. But he had to admit to himself that he was being more impulsive than he normally would be, even (or especially) where a man who he was seeing romantically was concerned. He hoped that Will would – at least eventually – acknowledge what he did to see him so last minute. He also hoped this wouldn't lead to more, even worse, impulsive decisions involving Will in the future.

When he stepped off the train, Will's tall presence was one of only two other people on the platform who waited in person to pick up the late night passengers. Will wore his soft, black leather coat over a white v-necked shirt, faded blue jeans, and black boots, and had his hands curled lightly in his coat pockets against the April night chill. When he saw Eric, Will's face lit up, even as he ducked his head slightly as Eric approached him. Eric just playfully bumped his shoulder against Will's and said, “All right?” He watched Will purse his lips for a moment, a restrained smile pulling up the corners as Will just managed to say, “Will be...soon.”

They didn't hardly speak on the car ride home to Will's house, and Eric could almost physically feel the sexual tension through the thick silence and chose not to comment on it. (There would be other times to do so, he figured, with a hint of a wicked grin on his face. Will didn't notice.)

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

me when we start eating billionaires and i have to kill gomez addams

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I finally watched My Own Private Idaho for the first time and...watching it kind of made me feel like I should watch more movies, because I'm not really sure what to think of it.

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I just got described as an "ad hating commie" by someone because I said a minute of youtube ads is unpleasant. fully spent 5 minutes arguing and defending youtube ads. insane stuff

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“at least one” is doing a lot of heavy lifting here.

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Joan Baez, Woodstock, New York, 1965 © Daniel Kramer.