#Altitude of House Music

[sukiipjs]

❧ BE QUIET

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↳ chris sturniolo x fem reader

↳ words - 1367

↳ summary - chris is pissed after losing a game and he decides to take it out on you 👀 (kinda rushed sorry!!)

↳ contains - smut, swearing, pet names (baby + ma), praise, hair pulling, sex, degrading, spanking, fingering, overstimulation

↳ song - altitude by montell fish

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the sun starts setting as people get up from the bleachers, going back to drive home. the rugby game just ended and chris’ team lost. me and his brothers wait by the locker room for him before we also go back home.

as we all talk, chris quickly comes back out and he looks pissed, he walks right past us, already walking to the car. “chris the fuck?” nick yells out as we start walking after him. he just ignores us until we get to the car and he flings the door open, sitting down in the back.

we all get in, me next to him and nick looks back. “fuck is your problem, it’s one game.” he scoffs as chris starts yelling back “shut up nick! just fucking drive.” matt turns the key as we start driving.

i turn to him as he looks out the window, still super pissed. i whisper at him trying to give him a smile, “chris you okay?” he ignores me or maybe he just doesn’t hear with the music in the car. “chris? cmon it’s not a big deal right?” i whisper again and he turns his head to me, “but i’m the one that fucked it up, my teammates are pissed at me. just shut up, you’re being fucking annoying.” he scoff back, whisper-yelling so his brothers don’t hear.

he turns back to just stare at the window, ignoring me again. i turn, rolling my eyes, now ignoring him too. we finally stop at their house and get out. chris storms in and goes to his room, me following him. “chris cmon what’s your deal?” i yell out, him just stomping into his room, slamming the door.

“ignore him, he’s being an ass” nick scoffs, walking up to his room. i sigh a little, walking to chris’ room, opening up the door. “chrissss” i try to give a smile again as i see chris taking off his shirt, wiping some sweat off from the game.

i walk in, closing the door as chris looks at me, throwing his shirt to the side. he walks closer to me, pinning me to his door, staring me down. “take these off,” his fingers linger over my waist and shirt.

“what?” i ask dumbly, already knowing what he wants. his hand goes to my head, pulling my hair as he repeats himself, “take. them. off.” his jaw is tight, staring at my wincing eyes. he lets go of my hair, backing up a little so i can take them off.

i bend down to slip off my shorts, then my crop top. i leave on my bra and underwear as he stares down my body, moving closer again. “those too baby,” his finger slips on the waistband of my underwear, letting them go to slap back against my skin. his finger gently pulls down one side of them, his other hand goes up to the other side so he can pull them all the way down, slipping off my body.

“pretty girl,” he smiles, his hands now going to my back, clipping my bra off letting it fall down. my boobs slip out, chris’ face quickly going to smush into them, his hands glide over my back, grabbing my ass as he kissing around my chest.

“mmm” he mumbles before lifting his head back up, “get on the bed ma” i look up at him, slightly biting the inside of my cheek before walking over to his bed, sitting on the edge. chris stays at the door, slipping off his belt before turning around to walk over to me, his pants being thrown to the side. his hard outline in his boxers and a small wet spot on the tip being shown.

he kneels down in front of me, his hand pulling hair up again as he starts to mark at my neck. his other hand on my wetness, i gasp at his touch. his fingers circle around my clit as i let out a moan, “fuck! chris,” i gasp out, his lips then moving on mine, “be quiet baby” he says softly before kissing me more and more, my moans slipping into his mouth.

he suddenly takes his hand off me, letting me whine out, missing his touch. he smirks and stands, pulling down his boxers to let out his pent up hardness. “turn over,” he says firmly, i do as he asks and i turn myself over, laying down on the bed. “ass up,” he starts to kneel up on the bed behind me, his tip brushing against me as i stick my ass up, my knees supporting me.

he leans down on me, his grip going back up to my hair, pulling my head up as he pushing inside me, “be quiet, wouldn’t want everyone to know what a slut you are yeah?” he smirks still, starting to thrust into me, my back arching more as he pulls my head back.

“fuck baby, you’re so good” he grunts, my ass slapping against his hips. i try to hold back my moans as my eyes shut but small ones still tend to slip out, “chris” i whine out, his tip brushing against my spot as i squeeze around him.

my moans start to become more frequent, and louder. his hand lets go of my hair, letting my head lean down but then it goes to cover my mouth, pulling my head back up. “quiet.” he moans out, my moans and whines being muffled by his hand.

he starts pumping into me faster and faster, making my eyes shut harder, jaw clenching as i try to mumble out, “close-“ i squeeze around him more, letting myself go all on him. “fuck ma,” he groans, shooting himself inside me too. he makes a few more thrusts before pulling out, letting my head lean down as he takes his hand off me. his seed spills out me as i catch my breath.

my eyes shoot open when a stinging smack comes on my ass. my body jolts as i let out a whine, dropping my arms down to my elbows as another comes. “chris-“ i whine out again before two fingers push inside me, making me whine out more. “chris! chris too- too much,” i cry out, my back arching as my ass presses into his fingers more.

“take it,” he spits out, pushing his fingers in and out of me, speeding his pace as i get louder. he takes a hold of my mouth again, covering my noises, “how many fucking times do i have to tell you to be quiet.”

my walls clench around his fingers, my eyes shutting again, small tears forming at the corners of my eyes. i try to shout his name but it’s all muffled. “take it, take it” he repeats over and over, his fingers brushing against my insides before i once again, release myself over him.

he adjusts his fingers, making his thumb brush against my clit as he doesn’t stop his fingers from pushing inside me, “chrissss, too much-“ i breath out, getting a moment of air before the hand over my mouth has two fingers rest of my tongue, making me gag.

his thumb works on my clit, two fingers still pumping inside me, the other hand and fingers making me choke on them. my legs shake from these feelings, my climax being faster to come this time. the tears in my eyes slip out, my teeth gently bite down on chris’ fingers as i try to not gag again.

i release myself on him over and over, him never stopping until i beg him too. he takes his all his fingers out of me. sucking them off as i collapse on the bed and catching my breath. chris slips on some sweatpants before sitting on the bed next to me, running his fingers in my hair.

“you good baby?” he smiles, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “mhm” i mumble into the sheets, he moves himself down to lay next to me. “love you,” he smiles still, eyes on me. “love you too chris,” i peak a smile, scooting myself closer to chris.

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taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @teenagetrash00 @matty-bear @venusbabysblog @m0r94n @sturnzsblog

[sarawritestories]

Say You Won't Let Go

Cassian X reader

Summary: You need an Illyrian Warrior to protect you from a nasty storm.

Content warning: Storms.

A/N I just realized I don't have a lot of Cassian Fluff. So here you go!

Thunder clapped, jolting you awake. You detested storms how the house would shake after a large boom or when lightning would light up the entire city that was shrouded in darkness. Being in high altitude in the house of wind only made this fear worse. Lightning lit up your room, causing your heart rate to quicken you soid out of your bed put on your slippers and headed to the one person who could quiet the noise.

Knocking the door, you bounced your weight from side to side as Cassian opened the door. He rubbed those sweet hazel eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them. "I was wondering when I would see you, Sweetheart." Heat rose to your cheeks, "Storm bugging you again?" You nod in response as he opens the door wide enough to let you in.

As you walked in, Thunder rumbled, shaking the whole house. You gasped and jumped into Cassian, back hitting his bare chest. He gripped your arms lightly and pressed a kiss to your hair. "I'm not going to let the storms get you. C'mon, let's go to bed."

He guided you over to the bed and tucked you into the side away from his balcony door. He flared his wings as if he knew lightning was coming because his light illuminated the wings. You could see every scar and membrane on them for a moment. When the lightning disappeared is when Cassian came to bed. You blinked. It dawned on you that he blocked your view of the storm.

He slid into bed, flaring out one wing to keep your eyes from wandering to the glass. "Come here." His words caused butterflies in your stomach as Cassian opened his arms, and you slid right in them. His muscled arms tucking you close to his chest.

"Thank you, Cassian." You whispered yawning.

"Anything for you. Now go to sleep." His eyes began to drift back to sleep.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

And you fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat the music of the storm long forgotten, in the arms of your mate.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Next

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe.  Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect.  Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements.  Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos.  You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward.  Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door.  Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home.  A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with.  Lower expectations created less disappointment.  If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white.  Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure.  And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time.  It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map.  Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods.  But it only intrigued you.  From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone.  The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up.  That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens.  The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into.  Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here.  But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal.  So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings.  You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak.  The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response.  As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence.  The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind.  Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40.  The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener.  Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure.  It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center.  The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected.  A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry.  The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings.  It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning.  In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before. 

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain.  You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless.  Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place.  But first, you wanted to take it all in.  You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet.  The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie.  The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste.  Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking.  But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes.  You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove.  Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.  

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled.  Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street.  From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight.  You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way.  A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing.  And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch.  The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette.  He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves.  He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him.  Or rather his interaction with you.  Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven.  And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world.  He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him.  You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one.  That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself.  And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed.  Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done.  By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later.  Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town.  Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life.  Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things.  It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power.  Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long.  At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with. 

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today.  The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.  

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car.  You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning.  Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck.  With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey.  The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated.  But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from.  So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square.  You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it.  A fresh start where no one knew your name.  This would be good for you.  At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.  

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost.  You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’.  At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek.  There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind.  This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right?  Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here.  You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time.  As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed.  You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks.  It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley.  Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.  

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map.  The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square.  The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite.  Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness.  The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come.  A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality.  Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate.  Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far.  People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered.  You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square.  Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’.  In return, you graced them with a polite smile.  It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships.  If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce.  Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular.  And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either.  A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically.  Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head.  First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now.  Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand.  Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then,  no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible.  The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for.  She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register. 

“You’re new.  But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?”  She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window.  She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes.  You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.”  Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally.  Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon.  “We don’t get many newbies.  They’ll get it outta their system.”  Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.”  A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right?  New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all.  Or maybe you could fly under the radar?  It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked.  You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain.  Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place.  Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel.  Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers.  And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state.  A mid life crisis in your early twenties.  

“Miss, your change.”  The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.”  You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you.  She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person.  She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself.  That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.  

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car.  Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience.  Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough.  A small misstep causing you to trip?  No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks.  Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep?  You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time.  What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car.  Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn.  Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable.  He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning.  The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind.  Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare.  The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?”  He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.  

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended.  It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not.  But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?”  He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving.  It won’t happen again.”  You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry.  “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.”  He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.”  You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek.  It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any.  It was just an observation.  “Now, get out of my lot.”  It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.  

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time.  With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window.  Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works.  Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’?  You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main.  Then right on Cherry.”  His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time.  So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”  

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask.  You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs.  You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you.  With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse.  You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home.  Nowhere was home.  Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it.  In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.  

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car.  You were always doing your best.  Always to please others.  And it never worked.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

[pricelessemotion]

Starstruck and Metal | E.M.

Summary: [4.3k] you meet eddie for the first time. it doesn't go quite like you expected.

Pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!music journalist!reader

Warnings: none!

Notes: huge thank u to my bestie chuck for beta reading 🫶 also if you solve the crossword hint i love u

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InStereo magazine was not The Rolling Stones, but it was a start. The modest music magazine had a humble following, enough to earn some hums of recognition whenever someone made the mistake of asking what you did for a living. Most days, it’s great. You relish in the joy of working in a field some people only dream of entering. The leap from column writer to main article was a large one, but you insisted that you were ready. Your first assignment as a music journalist and of course you got stuck with Eddie fucking Munson. 

Any self-respecting music journalist, anyone with some skin in the game would have laughed in the face of their editor. But instead, you smiled. You nodded enthusiastically, mimicking the bobblehead that has since been removed from your desk. When you decided to become a music journalist, you wanted to write about people who were changing the field. Instead, you were being tasked with writing some puff piece being used to save a wannabe rock star’s reputation. God forbid you gain the reputation of being a difficult woman–in a male-dominated industry no less–by turning down such a great opportunity.  

Even if that opportunity included spending a day with Eddie fucking Munson. 

You paid out of pocket for the cassette of Corroded Coffin’s debut album that was currently underscoring your drive to West Hollywood. You refused to meet the frontman without having listened to their music beforehand. They were good. A little rough around the edges, but it was to be expected. Outside of the occasional headlines, you hadn’t heard much about Eddie or his band. Corroded Coffin was making ripples, not waves. Of course, no one really cared about the music when they could be reading about who and what their lead vocalist was doing. 

Still, you find yourself parking outside of a humble ranch-style home in a neighborhood full of similar housing that likely cost a fortune to live in. The modest proceeds from Corroded Coffin’s tour have obviously paid off, considering that nice area and affordable don’t usually exist in the same sentence when talking about LA housing. The June sun is beating down on the empty street, and you’re thankful that you decided to wear a T-shirt and jeans. You tell yourself that the sweat collecting on your brow is from the heat and not nerves. 

Double-checking that you have the right address, you slam the door shut on your sedan and take a deep breath. The air feels cleaner here, less smoggy. You’re not sure if it’s because of the altitude or the tax bracket of the people who live here. Probably both. You reach into your purse and feel around for what you already know is inside. Pen. Notepad. Tape recorder. The holy trinity for a music journalist. 

There were very few topics that Eddie wasn’t willing to talk about. You guess that when you’ve had your insides strewn across the pavement for everyone to see, you don’t bother trying to uphold any semblance of mystique. Beginning the daunting trek toward your assignment, you remind yourself of two things:

1) Don’t ask about his father 

2) Don’t ask about what happened in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986

The first rule seemed simple enough. As far as the public was concerned, Eddie Munson came to Hawkins at the age of 12 to live with his Uncle Wayne like how a fully formed Venus sprang up from sea foam. He wasn’t and then he was. End of story. The fact that Eddie’s management went out of the way to make sure his father wasn’t brought up only made you more curious. 

The second rule was a little harder to accept. Anyone who knew anything about Eddie Munson wanted to know about 1986. Despite the fact that his highly publicized murder charges and subsequent exoneration are part of what caused Corroded Coffin to skyrocket to fame, he’s remained very tight-lipped about the whole situation. He plays off every question about it in interviews with a smirk and a sly comment. Just charming enough to get away without answering. Just vague enough to keep people guessing. Maybe his publicist wasn’t such a waste after all. 

Eddie Munson opens the door a few moments after you ring the bell. Using a ringed hand to shield his eyes from the midday sun, he squints at you. A pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips. He has a severe case of bedhead despite the fact that the time on your watch indicates that it’s nearly two in the afternoon. The confusion that draws his brows together also indicates that he has absolutely no idea who you are. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you state your name and purpose before realization graces his features. 

“It’s you! Shit, yeah! You’re here for the– the thing!” He tosses a careless look over both of his shoulders before widening the opening. “Come on in.”

Eddie closes the door behind you and rushes down the hallway in order to put some real clothes on, leaving you standing in the empty living room. The inside is surprisingly clean for someone who’s gained the reputation of being a hot mess. It smells like cigarettes, weed, and lemon pledge. The lemon scent is strongest as if someone was trying–and failing–to use it to cover up the previous two. A record player is tucked into a corner, the vinyl still spinning. A line of electric guitars is propped up against the back wall, each of them no doubt costing more than your monthly rent. One of the stands is noticeably empty and you glance to your left to see a beat-up acoustic resting on the couch. On the coffee table, there are piles and piles of scrap sheets of paper. For most of them, the handwriting is too illegible to read or it’s been crossed out. Eddie seems to write lyrics like he lives his life: fast and all over the place.

Stepping closer, something along the upper corner catches your eye. Slyly lifting up a pile of paper, being sure not to disturb the configuration, you find that your suspicions are correct. Eddie received the same copy of Sub Rosa as you did. Obviously, it didn’t go over well. He’s used a pen to black out his eyes. Much to your amusement, you see he’s also drawn horns and a tail. The hand that’s flipping off the camera is illustrated to be holding a pitchfork. 

That’s not the full extent of Eddie’s doodling, though. On the bottom right-hand corner of the magazine, there’s a smaller picture of him standing next to a certain brown-eyed beauty. You’re quick to note that he’s drawn a crude halo and angel wings on his long-legged companion. They’ve been scribbled out as an afterthought, making the halo look more like a crown of thorns. 

So, you think to yourself, he’s a little immature. You can work with immaturity. Immaturity means that he won’t be as guarded as some of the other celebrities your coworkers have had the misery of meeting. In fact, from what little you know about Eddie, you wonder if he even has any guard at all. He did leave you alone here with stacks of potential songs for his band’s next album. If you were a better journalist and a worse person, you would probably take the time to decipher his chicken scratch and see if you could glean any insights into his creative process. But you don’t. Instead, you release the stack of papers and wait. 

For a moment, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve never been inside of a famous person’s house before. You’re not sure if you should sit down and make yourself comfortable or if Eddie has something else planned for the two of you to do. The specifics of your assignment were intentionally vague, most likely to accommodate Eddie’s spontaneity. 

Venturing further into the living room, you come to stand in front of a shelf. Brushing your fingers across the collection of vinyl, you tilt your head to read the names along the spines. There are the usual suspects–Dio, Metallica, and Judas Priest–but what surprises you is that, in the midst of all the metal and hard rock, there’s an array of old-school country music. At the end of the lineup is the most surprising one of them all; Sentimentally Yours by Patsy Cline. It’s exceedingly worn, cracks and creases litter the empty sleeve. If you were a betting woman, you would say that the record is currently on the player across the room.

A muffled crash followed by a string of curse words breaks you out of your reverie. Eddie opens the bedroom door with the finesse of someone who is obviously used to being the center of attention. He’s traded his sweatpants and tank top for a pair of ripped black jeans and a v-neck. It felt reassuring to know that you hadn’t underdressed for the occasion. 

It also gives you a moment to drink in the blinding light that was Eddie Munson. He’s leaner in person. Though he always looked lithe in every photograph you saw of him, his frame seemed more imposing and large. Maybe all the stars just look that way when they’re so high above you. 

He was taller, too. The boots on his feet surely aided in that, given that the soles were at least an inch thick. Still, you didn’t anticipate how much you would have to tilt your head up just to look him in the eyes. 

There, standing in Eddie Munson’s rented living room, you realize something; You’re absolutely starstruck. 

Although you had turned up your nose at the prospect of interviewing him and regarded his reputation with the same disdain you reserved for bad drivers and shitty landlords, you were still a person after all. 

With all of the stars around, it’s easy to think of Los Angeles as the center of the universe. But you are not a star or anything even close to it. You’re some space debris, hopelessly floating and waiting for something bigger to come around and influence you with its gravitational pull. 

Eddie is a heavenly body. You can’t help being pulled into his orbit. 

“So, I see you’ve found my collection.” His voice is still rough with sleep. The sound makes you weak in the knees. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.” You mumble, tucking Patsy Cline back into the shelf. “You’ve got some really good stuff here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, that reminds me, I have something for you.” He swiftly turns and stalks back towards what seems to be his bedroom, motioning for you to follow him. 

The blood rushes out of your cheeks. The terms of your interview suggested that you would have a lot of access, but this was different. This was up close and personal. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own because while you’re still wrapped up in the fact that you’re gonna see Eddie Munson’s bedroom, you’re already following him down the hallway and through the open door. 

It’s about as messy as you would expect. The furniture is all pale wood and earth tones, fitting the mid-century modern stylings of the rest of the house. You suspect that Eddie took the time to clean up a little while you were rifling through the stacks of paper. The bed is haphazardly made. There’s an ashtray on his bedside table, filled with the remains of a few cigarettes. 

“I’m not supposed to smoke inside. Shh.” He brings his index finger to his mouth, pink lips barely brushing the skull ring he’s wearing. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You let out an airy laugh. Being reprimanded for smoking inside is the least of Eddie’s worries and you both know it. 

Eddie’s nimble fingers skim the top of the dresser, brushing aside even more sheets of scrap paper. A couple of guitar picks plummet to the floor, but he pays no mind. 

“I heard that metal isn’t usually your thing.” He remarks, still sifting through the clutter. 

That much is true. While you dabbled in a little bit of everything, not only as part of your job but also as part of your interest in music, metal wasn’t usually the genre you gravitated towards. In fact, the most metal album that you had listened to recently was written and produced by the man standing in front of you. 

“It’s not, but I’m open to everything.”

“Aha! Here it is.” Eddie holds up the cassette like it’s the key to the universe. Handing it to you, you can see that the writing on the sides is reminiscent of what you saw in the living room, though slightly neater. You’re familiar with some of the bands listed, but the songs don’t ring a bell. “I thought I would broaden your musical horizons.”

You gawk at him. For someone whose job is about words, you can’t find any. He took the time to make you a mixtape? 

“Track five is a personal favorite.” Eddie says, leaning towards you and tapping the tracklist, obviously unshaken by your inability to form a coherent thought. 

“Thanks. I’ll give it a listen.” You manage to choke out, tucking the cassette into the front pocket of your purse. 

Looking around the room, you see that there’s a battered copy of The Lord of the Rings on his bedside table. The corners are frayed, and you’re certain that you could accidentally tear the cover off of the paperback if you’re not careful. Cautiously, you trace the spine with your finger, waiting for Eddie to say something. To tell you that it’s the one thing that’s off limits. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you. Opening it, you can see Property of Eddie A. Munson written underneath the title in a childish scrawl. 

“You like books? I mean–you’re a writer, so of course you like books–I mean, have you read that one?” Eddie is visibly flustered, the words coming out of his mouth at an alarming rate. It almost makes up for the way he rendered you speechless moments ago. 

“I’m more of a Dune girl myself. But, I love The Lord of the Rings. My dad used to read it to me before bed every night.”

“Yeah?” A small smile tugs at his lips before he practically whispers his next words. “Mine too.” 

A flash of something you can’t quite decipher crosses Eddie’s face. 

“Right! Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?” He shuffles out of the room like his life depends on it. You’re still reeling at the fact that he brought up his dad unprompted. Keeping a brisk pace, you put the book down and follow him into the kitchen.

“We have…” He trails off, opening the door to the refrigerator. “Nothing.”

He shuts the refrigerator and dashes to the table by the front door. He mumbles to himself before grabbing a few things, shrugging on a jacket, and finally turning to face you again. A pair of sunglasses covers the half of his face that isn’t plastered with a mischievous grin. From the tips of his fingers hangs a set of car keys.

“You hungry?”

–

You should’ve known that Eddie Munson would try to kill you within 20 minutes of meeting him. Lifting up the garage door, he reveals that the car keys were in fact, not car keys but keys to a motorcycle. The vehicle in question is an absolutely stunning deathtrap. It shines so beautifully that you can see your terrified face in the warped reflection. 

Putting his helmet on, Eddie straddles the bike and looks at you. 

“C’mon.” Eddie smiles wolfishly, tilting the spare helmet towards you. “I’m a safe driver. Promise.”

You’re still standing frozen. His wolfish grin melts into something more patient.

“Hey, if you don’t want to take the motorcycle, just say the word. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

Despite the sincerity in his voice, you can’t help but take the words as a challenge. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You profess, though the shake in your voice is evident. Grabbing the helmet out of his hands, you ignore the way your face heats up when your fingers brush.

Eddie takes gross advantage of California’s lane-splitting laws, leaving you clinging to his leather-draped torso for dear life. Outside from the occasional shout of assurance that you can’t understand, the ride is quiet but for the roar of the bike and the wind in your ears. You’re vacillating between being absolutely terrified of crashing and secretly relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to make small talk on the drive from his place to wherever he was taking you. 

You were very close to liking Eddie Munson. Now, you were sure that he was sent as some kind of karmic punishment.

“Parking in L.A. is always a pain. That’s why I love this baby,” He gingerly pats the handles as he kicks the parking brake down. “She can fit basically anywhere.”

You hum in agreement, mostly just happy to have made it to your destination in one piece. While Eddie hops off the bike with ease, you have a little more trouble. Swinging your leg over, your toe catches on the fuel tank, causing you to stumble and nearly fall to the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Eddie is biting back a smile. He offers a calloused hand out to you. You brush it away out of embarrassment, planting both feet firmly on the ground and taking in your surroundings. 

You had expected Eddie to take you to one of L.A.’s finer dining venues. Somewhere with fancy mood lighting and clientele with pockets so deep that they don’t even bother to put the prices on the menu. His management was footing the bill, after all. 

The building that sits before you is none of those things. The diner is old and slightly dilapidated. Graffiti mars the stucco that hasn’t already crumbled away. The neon sign that says Zazie’s! blinks drowsily, more of an eyesore than eye-catching. 

Eddie opens the door for you. As the bell above it jingles, you’re hit with a rush of conditioned air and canned nostalgia. The walls are covered in artifacts from a bygone era of poodle skirts and letterman jackets. A lonely jukebox sits in the corner, playing a soft hum to a Billie Holiday song you have long forgotten the name of. 

A plump woman sits behind the counter doing the crossword in the newspaper. Likely, the same one you were doing that morning. A thoughtful look is etched into her soft features, and you wonder if she’s also stuck on 57-down: Idle during the heist. The ten-letter space confounded you so much that you were almost late. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Eddie is the type of person to care too much about punctuality.  At the sound of the bell, she looks up, squints, and smiles. 

“Is that you, Toto?” The glasses that sit on the tip of her nose are attached to a chain around her neck. She lets them fall to her chest, her voice bright and amiable. 

“You know it is, Dorothy!” Eddie gushed, an award-winning smile back on his face. 

They fall into easy conversation, making it obvious that he’s a regular here. You keep glancing at him trying to find hints of ingenuity but there are none. Eddie regards the woman with the warmth and respect that you would expect from a boy scout, not a rockstar. 

Sliding into a booth, Dorothy hands you both a menu and leaves to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

“You have to try the french toast, it’s divine.” Eddie barely steals a look at the laminated folder before folding it back up and putting it down on the table. 

“I’ve never really been a french toast person. I don’t know if I wanna risk it.”

Eddie gives you a pointed look, sunglasses slipping down the slope of his nose. “You rode a motorcycle. How much more risky is a plate of french toast?”

“Maybe that was all the risk-taking I had in me for one day.” You force yourself to shrug noncommittally. You don’t know why breakfast food is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, but you’re going down swinging.

“Well, you already trusted me with your life.” Eddie takes the sunglasses off and tucks his fist under his chin, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. “Think you can trust me with this?”

Suddenly, all of the fight in you disappears. There’s that sincerity in his voice again. You realize then that the best and worst thing about Eddie Munson is how genuine he always sounds.  

“Yeah, I do.”

The smile on his face is so bright that you feel compelled to look away. Eddie orders for both of you. It’s enough food to feed a small army, but it seems that Dorothy is used to it because she leaves the table with a wink and says if y’all need anything just holler! 

“Do you mind?” You say, pulling out the notepad and pen from your purse. 

Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. It’s almost imperceptible. Almost. In the small amount of time you’ve known him, it has become abundantly clear that Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve. Recovering quickly, he gives you the go-ahead and smiles. For the first time today, his grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So,” You begin, clicking the button on your ballpoint. “I have to ask. Toto?”

Eddie barks out a laugh. He goes on a whole spiel about how he was having a terrible day and walked into the diner feeling homesick and hungry. When he first came to L.A. he felt like Dorothy stepping into the technicolor world of Oz. Once the novelty wore off, he found himself missing when the world used to be so black and white. Upon telling the wise waitress, aptly named Dorothy, she lovingly told him, Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. The nickname stuck ever since.

The story almost sounds rehearsed. A perfect sound bite that shows how you can take the boy out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the Midwest out of the boy. And yet, you feel inclined to believe him. Eddie just seems to have that effect on people. 

The food finally arrives and you’re amazed to find that Eddie’s eyes are not bigger than his stomach. He talks about music and his band in between bites of pancakes and hashbrowns, both of them drowned in an inch of syrup. He speaks of his friends back in Indiana with a certain fondness, but you can’t help but notice how avoids naming his hometown. He also never refers to Hawkins as back home, instead saying where I’m from.

Conversation between the two of you flows as easily as the never-ending coffee from Dorothy’s pot. It’s almost too easy to forget that this is an interview. Remembering yourself, you take a moment to ask Eddie one of the harder-hitting questions you have in your back pocket.

“What about Evelyn Chau?”

Eddie winces. The open book that was sitting before you shuts tight with a resilient slam. The mouthful of pancakes and syrup seems to turn to sludge as his chewing slows. Despite having no regard for table manners earlier, he points at his lips and holds up a finger to indicate that he needs a minute to swallow. 

After taking a sip of coffee and wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, he slouches in his seat and crosses his arms defensively. 

“What about Evelyn Chau?” He repeats your question back to you but with an unmistakable air of forced nonchalance. 

You want to crumble under his pointed gaze, but you don’t. You steel yourself with the reminder that asking uncomfortable questions is part of your job description. Besides, it would raise many more alarms if you didn’t ask about the raven-haired model spotted painting the town with him than if you did. 

“Everyone wants to know if you’re together.”

“Everyone.” He exaggerates the word, using his index finger to trace the lip of his coffee cup. “Does that include you?”

The smirk on his face indicates that he’s either messing with you or flirting with you. Maybe both. 

“Well,” you demure. “are you?”

“Evie is just a friend.” Eddie’s still perfectly composed, but the familiarity with which he says her nickname betrays him. His face twitches when he catches his slip-up. “A really close friend.”

It’s already too late. He couldn’t convince you that she was just a friend if he tried. A flash of a crossed-out halo and crooked angel wings comes to mind. 

You’re about to ask him another question, but Dorothy and her impeccable timing interrupts the moment by placing the check on the table. Eddie throws down a few bills from an old leather wallet, while you’re trying to figure out how you can spin a two-hour diner date into an entire article. 

Eddie stretches as he stands up, the hem of his black v-neck raises to expose a tattoo on his right hip that snakes down further than you’re supposed to look. On the other side, you catch a muddled array of purple and red scar tissue. Averting your eyes, you look up and are met with a stony gaze. He caught you staring.

“What do you say we get outta here?”

Because you’re a very stupid, stupid woman, you agree.

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[bibliophileiz]

I just finished a book called The Queens of Animation by Nathalia Holt, about women animators at the Walt Disney Studio. I cannot believe the shit I found out.

(Hopefully I got this all correct, I was listening to an audiobook instead of reading a hard copy, so I can't consult it for name spellings and the like. I'm relying on Google, and well, we know how that goes sometimes.)

Some things I learned from this book. -Walt Disney became a personal champion of women in the animation department, arguing not just that they were as talented as men but that they could bring something to storytelling that men could not. After his death, the number of women in the animation and story departments plummeted, along with the animation department itself. -But he also paid women way less. (Except Mary Blair.)

Not just women, but many animators had a hard time getting on-screen credit for their work. This was one of the issues that led to a massive strike in 1941 that tore the department in two, temporarily shut down the studio, and resulted in a lot of people, both union and non-union, losing their jobs when it finally reopened.

On the rare occasion women did get credit, they were sometimes ignored by reviewers.

The second woman to be hired to the animation department, Grace Huntington, was a pilot who held multiple speed and altitude records. She eventually quit the studio with the hopes of getting a full time aviation job, but died young of TB before her career could take off.

Traditional animation is apparently a terrible way to make money. Only a handful of the early animated feature-length films made more at the box office than it took to make them.

Women animators were drawing things for The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast as early as the 1930s.

Men thought drawing fairies was unmanly, so the fairy sequence set to Nutcracker music in Fantasia was drawn and directed entirely by women.

While the women animators were doing that, the men drew super gross racist and sexist centaurs to Beethoven music, and the reviewers all hated it. (Essentially they were like HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO BEETHOVEN.) - Generally, male animators tended to like slapstick comedy in their cartoons, while women tended to be more about storytelling and character development.

Obviously there were exceptions to that rule, like Walt Disney and Mark Davis.

Disney hired an LSU professor to write Song of the South. When everyone pointed out to him this was a terrible idea, he hired a Communist Jew from New York as co-writer for "balance."

This went about as well as you'd expect.

When the LSU professor demanded his co-writer get taken off the script, Disney replaced him with another "progressive" white guy.

Apparently he never considered hiring an African-American writer.

Literally everyone, including the studio's legal team, told him not to make this movie, much less hire a white guy from Baton Rouge to write it.

The lead actor James Baskett, who won an Honorary Academy Award for the role, couldn't go to the premiere because it was held in Atlanta.

Meanwhile, the Communist got put on Cinderella. He interpreted the story as a worker rising up against her oppressors.

This is also known as the correct way to interpret Cinderella.

Apparently the writer (so sorry, I'm forgetting his name) included a "violent" scene in which Cinderella goes after her stepmother and stepsisters.

I have no more details than that, but apparently the other animators made him take it out.

I'm now just picturing Cinderella stalking around her house with a raised butcher knife in her hand like in "Psycho."

Artist Mary Blair was art director for many of the classic Disney movies, including Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland. Disney loved her work so much that when she had to move to Long Island for her husband's job, Disney let her work remotely and fly back and forth from New York to Los Angeles.

She was responsible for the rich colors and design choices in the princess movies. She resigned part way through "Sleeping Beauty" but the art director after her used her designs for Maleficent.

Her husband, Lee Blair, was also an animator for the studio before he left to fight in World War II. He was apparently extremely jealous of Mary's artistic talent, and when he returned from Europe, he moved the family to Long Island, became an alcoholic, and started abusing her and later their children. Mary didn't feel she could go to Walt, or any of her other friends at the studio like Retta Scott and Mark and Alice Davis, because domestic violence and divorce were so taboo back then.

Even after the move, Disney let her work remotely, and she spent a lot of time flying between New York and Los Angeles. She eventually resigned hoping to work on her marriage (this didn't really work, though her husband did eventually start going to AA meetings after spending a year in jail for drunk driving) but was later rehired to help design the It's A Small World ride.

Everyone who worked on that ride hated the song btw.

The men apparently got over the idea of drawing fairies making their balls fall off or something by the time they were making Peter Pan, but one of them still asked why Tinker Bell "had to be so naughty".

101 Dalmations was the first animated film to be made using Xerox technology, which decimated the studio's female-dominated ink and paint department (their job was to trace over the animators' work). The Xerox machines could only make black and white at first, which is why so much of that movie is so colorless compared to the earlier Disney films Mary Blair worked on.

The silver lining was everyone got to play with puppies while they were making it because Disney ordered a whole bunch of them to just be there in the studio for the animators to draw.

Speaking of cute animals, the Burbank lot was home to a bunch of stray cats. Disney liked them being there because they hunted mice, so he didn't like when employees fed them.

Disney hated 101 Dalmations, because of the Xerox machines, but it made more of a profit than any of his previous films, because of the Xerox machines.

Julie Andrews originally turned down the role of Mary Poppins because she was pregnant, and Disney promised to wait on her. (Joss Whedon, take notes.)

After Walt died of lung cancer, the animation department was nearly killed and pretty much stopped hiring women. Mary Blair, who had been almost as influential to Disney's art as Walt, was edged out and by the time new animators started working on the Disney Renaissance films, they didn't even know who she was.

Many of the women who left the studio went on to work for Little Golden Books and other children's book publishing companies.

One of the few women animators at the company at this time, Heidi Guedel, who drew Tigger, left with Don Bluth when he departed to form his own company in 1979.

When The Little Mermaid was in production, there was only one woman animator--she may have been the only woman in the entire story department, I don't remember.

Disney then began hiring more women animators at the directive of then-Disney CEO Mike Eisner and head of animation Jeffrey Katzenberg.

One of the women screenwriters working on Beauty and the Beast (I think Linda Woolverton, but it may have been Brenda Chapman) wrote a scene in which Belle puts pins on a map showing where all she hopes to travel.

The animators changed the scene in the storyboards so that Belle is in the kitchen making a cake instead. When the screenwriter saw it, she apparently raged BELLE DOES NOT MAKE CAKES!

Pixar at this time had no women in its animation department.

Brenda Chapman became the first woman to win an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature Film for Brave. During her acceptance speech, she talked about her daughter Emma.

When making Frozen, Disney held a "sister summit" of women discussing their relationships with their sisters and other women. Men at the summit were not allowed to speak.

btw Brenda Chapman also worked on The Prince of Egypt. (I did not learn this from the book, I learned it just now while looking her up on imdb.)

If I have had a very bad day, and am very tired, then the mere mention of Howard Ashman's name will make me break down in tears.

[magicxc]

Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true.

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish.

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Hallween they’ll never forget.

Word Count: 3506

Warnings: murdaaaa, tha big reveal

Chapter 6 - Jasons POV

A/N: this is legit like my 5th attempt at uploading this damn fic. From the warnings to the word count to the moodboard to the story all the way down to the fucking tagsssss 😩 I am TIRED. Almost turned my phone into jello over Dumblr. So please, enjoy; cause tears def went into this.

Series Masterlist

“What’s with the scrutiny all of a sudden?” Emery challenged. “You know I could say the same for you Jason, the same for all of us really; cause where was anyone when our friends were fighting for their lives?” she sniffled. “All we have to do is sit here til sunrise and we can’t even do that.”

As annoying as I find Emery, she made a decent point. Where was I? Where was anyone and how did this manage to happen unheard? Do I actually believe Lorenzo did it? Not really. He’s lost arguably the two closest people in his friend group, cradling Stephanie in his arms for God knows how long. For a second I almost believed he’d break through the window if it meant he could reach out and hold Julianna much the same; his behaviour eerily composed, reminding me of the calm before the storm - and what a shit storm it’s turned out to be.

Serving in the military, I was taught to survive in extreme atmospheric conditions; training to fight in places as scorching as the desert and as icy as the snow. Our exercises also saw us in unsturdy places such as the choppy currents of the water, arms linked together as we floated on the surface for hours. The sky was no exception either, learning to parachute from altitudes so high the air was all but limited. It wasn’t my dream to fight for this country but, life happens. And while it did come with its perks, I wouldn’t recommend any sane person to join. I’ve scraped so many bodies off the battlefield and sent so many others to meet their maker, I’ve become somewhat desensitized to death - learning to keep calm during the most chaotic and life threatening moments because it’s only then that I was able to live to tell the tale. And that’s what I’ve been attempting since we all found ourselves locked in this place - surviving, lending out my experience to the team who quite frankly doesn't deserve it at this point. All I can do is stay calm long enough to see this night through.

“I think we should waterboard the fucker.”

And here the fuck we go. I’ve never pegged Lynn for such a firecracker but I get it. After all, this night is drawing all sorts of emotions from people: showing our true colors when the universe dangles something so priceless before us.

It's been said that about 1800 people have jumped from the golden gate bridge, yet only 35 have survived the fall. And each person that’s survived has explicitly stated that they regretted jumping halfway through the fall, realising, in the face of imminent danger, just how solvable all their problems seemed. Much like tonight, in what happened to be a party gone horribly wrong, recovering bodies littered around the house like candies during an easter egg hunt, only then do you realise how desperately you want to live. Many people are familiar with the term fight or flight, but what goes most overlooked is a secret third thing - fear. Fear so intense it freezes you to one spot like a deer in headlights, too afraid to move from the oncoming beams of tragedy. But another emotion fear pulls from us is survival, an emotion so fierce that you’d find yourself doing just about anything to have it; even going as far as to commit interrogation tactics of torture.

“Exactly which fucker are you referring to?” Emery questioned.

“Whoever the fucker is responsible for this mess.”

“Go ahead and point them out for us since you know every damn thing.”

They’re on their own with this one. I can't deal with the bickering. I'm used to organized and thought provoking responses in such situations; my irritation rising the more it sinks in just how wet they are behind the ears.

“Lorenzo, you’re one more insult away from me socking you in the face.”

“Whatever Lynn, what you should hit is the books you dumbass,” he retorts.

Throwing her shoe at him, it just barely misses his face; Emery stepping in to call them both childish.

“So help me God if you don’t get your shit together, I’m gonna whoop you like your parents should have.”

“Fuck you Lenny, at least my parents were active enough in my life not to let me get raised by the help.”

“Parent,” Lorenzo enunciated. “Had your dad been able to afford the help, maybe your mom would’ve stuck around you motherless bitch.”

Well shit.

“Jason, do something!”

“Right, uhhh all shoes in the middle of the floor,” I instructed.

“Asshole.”

I don’t know why Emery insists on calling me out. Everyone, despite tonight’s circumstances, in this room is responsible for their own actions. Yet she expects me to jump in the middle of their bullshit every time. I don't know what kind of savior complex they have going on, but I won’t be a part of it. I barely want to be with sugar at this point.

“Lenny you motherfucker, two parents plus the help and yet no one taught you what it means to have common decency; no wonder women can’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Well if it isn’t the whore of Babylon here to teach us a lesson about keeping partners. Tell you what, you teach me how to keep a woman and I’ll teach you how to get rid of the clap.”

“Sex shaming is not cool,” Emery criticized.

“And neither is half the things that's been flapping past Lynn's lying ass lips,” Lorenzo retorted. “If you’re gonna be biased, do so from the corner of the room, cause you’re at about arms length right now and that’s not good for you.

“Would you seriously hit me?” she ridiculed.

I would.

“Are you surprised Em, this is the same piece of shit who yanked Julez arm so hard, it left bruises.”

“You dramatic whore, no the fuck I did not.”

“And that was in front of an entire crowd, who knows what you’re capable of behind closed doors huh? Drowning? Slicing?”

“Sounds like you’re in the mood to find out.”

“Tell me their last words to you as you watched them fight for their lives you piece of shit.”

“YOU GUYS PLEASE.”

Oh my God.

“Shut your mouth Lynn.”

“Tell me every horrifying detail about what fucked you up so bad that you’d turn on your own friends in such a way.”

“I won't ask you again.”

“Steph probably begged you to finish her off didn’t she? Eager to get the hell away from you and your perverted advances.”

For a big guy, Lorenzo’s pretty damn swift. Maybe it’s because all those drinks are still sloshing around in my bloodstream but my cat like senses wasn’t quick enough to catch him.

Angrily lunging toward Lynn his hands are tightly wrapped around her throat, arms trembling from the forceful hold. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead, while spittled foam gathers at the corners of his mouth. Blinking away tears, thick veins line the surface of his neck, incoherent mumbling tumbling past his lips.

Sugar desperately beats at his arms, struggling for air he refuses to give her and my anger shoots through the roof, their foolishness pissing me off for the final time. It takes both me and Emery to tear Lorenzo away from sugar, his grip firm and unrelenting. For a second I feared that he actually intended to kill her. Once we finally manage to drag him away, it takes me putting my full weight on this man, using one of my hand to hand combat moves to lock him into place.

Pinned beneath me, I scream to Emery to grab anything strong enough to tie his arms together. She brings me back one of the kitchen towels and I roll us sideways so that she can wrap it around his hands.

“I - I can't do it, he won’t stop thrashing his arms.”

“For fucksake Emery TRY, there’s only so much I can do right now.

With lots of wiggling and flailing, Emery manages a decent enough knot for me to turn him over and reinforce it. Sugar finally catches her breath before storming into the kitchen.

We sit Lorenzo in a chair while Emery tries to coax him into comfort. Standing up, he head butts me in the face, my nose immediately leaking blood from the impact. My fist returns the favor, knocking him back into the chair. Emery harshly tugs on my elbow, begging me to stop, and it takes everything in me to do just that because this fight was about to turn real unfair, real quick.

Dragging my arm across my face, I look about the room for anything to tie down his legs to the chair, coming up with some loose cloth, which undoubtedly was a part of someone’s costume.

“Fuck all of you,” Lorenzo screams.

“No Lenny, fuck you,” sugar screeched, thumping back to the room; a pitcher full of water cradled between her hands.

“Woah, woah, woah LYNNLEY. Are you fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“This is Lenny, the same Lenny we’ve known since middle school.”

“People change Em and I'm about to show you just how much.”

“Sugar, maybe we should-“

“Shut up, all of you.”

“I know there’s been a lot said tonight, some things in particular we can never take back,” Lorenzo sighed. “And I know tensions are high right now, but are they so high that you’d all sit there and watch me die.”

“Lorenzo, no one’s gonna kill anyone man.”

“It’s WATERBOARDING, you of all people should know that it can very well get fatal.”

“Enough of this.”

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulls his head back, pouring enough water on him to drench his clothes, before being snatched away by Emery.

It's not nearly enough to kill him, but it does make for some discomfort, much like accidentally snorting a noseful of water once you dive inside a swimming pool. It burns but that's about it.

Coughing through his discomfort, I listen as sugar and Emery go back and forth over the severity of it all; and I briefly contemplate killing myself if it means that I won't have to deal with their nonsense. I honestly don't know if I can make it to sunrise like this and by the looks of it, neither will they.

Their bickering finally subsides, them agreeing only to question the man and nothing more. Of course Lorenzo detests it, that for no other reason than a hunch he’s guilty and lowkey he’s right. But then again, I'm not inserting myself into their madness. They’ve made it this far in this fucked up friend circle, they can make it the rest of the night.

“So lemme get this straight, you went upstairs to find cell signal and somehow found yourself next to a knife stricken Steph?”

“Lynn, ask your damn question.”

“How did you end up there and why?”

“My phone fell out of the window and I was looking for someone elses to use. It just so happened that Steph was the first person I found.”

“I think we should stop asking who may have done it, but why?” Emery proposed. “I feel like if we can figure out who had motive, we can narrow it down.”

“Well this is a pretty fucked up way to narrow things down. I'm literally tied to a chair.”

“That's because you choked me.”

“And I’ll do it again, you’ve been out of pocket since this whole thing started. How do we know you’re not the killer huh?

“Because I’m holding back from killing you now,” she shrieks.

Spitting, the thick glob lands directly on her chest, sugar all but emptying the contents of the pitcher onto his face; angrily clomping back into the kitchen to no doubt fill it again, but not before slapping him across the cheek.

Wet and stinging, that's quite the combination. I fear this has gone on long enough and it's only escalating. As much as I wanted to stay out of it, I think I better intervene.

Following sugar into the kitchen, I try to talk her out of this crazed state, her dazed pupils letting me know that she’s too far gone for reason. Pushing past me, she heads back into the living room where we see Emery struggling to untie the knots off Lorenzo, his violent coughing trying to dislodge the water that seeped into his lungs.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“The hell does it look like I'm doing Lynn, this is mad and it needs to stop now.”

“Not until I get some answers.”

“People who talk, talk after their first contact with water,” I bargained. “And he’s not talking.”

“All that means is we have to get him talking then.”

“OR, it means he didn’t do it. You pour a bucket of water over someone’s nose and they’ll tell you whatever you want to hear if it means you’ll stop.”

“And yet you did it anyway,” she glared.

“There was a time where I would’ve died for all of you. I found a family in you guys and it filled a void I didn’t even know I had. And in one night, one measly fucking night I lose it all,” Lorenzo whimpered. “My best friend gets murdered without us ever properly mending things between us. I had to watch the love of my life die in my arms. And now, my other friend is actively trying to kill me, disregarding our decade long friendship all in the name of anger.

“Lorenzo, you did this to yourself!”

“LYNN, how fucking cruel can you be?”

“It’s alright Em, I’ve been known to be a bit of an asshole, though I’d like to think I meant well,” he bitterly chuckled, snot trickling down his nose. “Do me a favor and survive this fucked up night, cause God only knows who Lynn will turn on next. Not to mention that fucker over there,” he says, head nodding toward me. “Ain't it a little odd how all of this starts happening the moment he shows up? Yet I'm the one you helped him strap down to a chair. They ask what would you do for a klondike bar, but you better start asking what would Lynn do for a piece of dick, cause apparently it’s kill for it.”

“Lorenzo, I'm actually on your side. The only reason you’re even tied to that chair is because you attacked two people in this room,” I defended.

“And what's the reason I'm being waterboarded huh? Who weaseled that thought in her mind? You say you fight for your country? Motherfucker you can't even fight for the people in this room, but you like what’s happening huh?

“Not at all man.”

“We get it, I'm a dumb hoe, but you’re about to be a dead one if you don’t fess up.”

“And then what? You’ll let me go free?”

“Jason, please help me untie him,” Emery pleaded.

“Em don’t you fucking dare.”

Lunging toward her, hands get tangled into hair and nails get scratched into skin before I can get between them. It takes more strength than I care to give to hold Emery back, both she and sugar throwing around insults.

“Lynn I swear, you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Lorenzo taunted. “YOU ARE THE CUM SHOT YOUR MOTHER SHOULDVE SWALLOWED. It would’ve saved your dad a lifetime of headaches and your mother the embarassm-“

Lorenzo’s words get cut off by the splashing of water, his gurgling noises buried under the guzzling of the pitcher. Emery goes wild, hitting my chest repeatedly and I toss her to the ground, jetting over to the scene behind me. Slapping the pitcher from Lynn’s hands, it's on the verge of empty, nothing but a trickle left inside as it splatters to the floor.

Lorenzo’s body furiously thrashes around, his chest caved in and head hung over with water spluttering from his mouth in an attempt to rid it from his body.

“Shit, Lynnley what the fuck did you do,” I screamed.

Emery is struggling to undo the knots, but all she’s doing is pulling them tighter together. I race over and lean the chair forward, hoping for gravity to expel some of the water from his airway, his body jerking about minorly.

“Why are you just standing there, find something to cut him loose.”

Scrambling into the kitchen, I hear dishes clinking and slamming together before Lynn comes running out with a knife, slicing through the cloth as best she can. The kitchen towel, since it was the thickest, took the longest and by the time we got him out the chair and on the floor, his fits has ceased.

Getting into position, I lock my hands together and press down on his chest, 30 times just like we did in training.

“Emery, once I count to 30 I need you to tip his head back and blow two big breaths into his mouth okay.”

“And what do I do?”

“Stay the fuck over there, I doubt he’d want your help at this point,” Emery yelled.

We do five sets of 30 compressions. The CPR forces out some of the water but Lorenzo is still unconscious.

“Why isn’t it working?” Emery wails.

“Em-“

“Why are you stopping, keep going.”

“Stop.”

Pushing against my chest, Emery restarts CPR.

“The lungs are about 9 inches in height, that's a little under a foot.”

“Nobody cares, just fucking help me.”

“The pitcher that Lynn poured over his face looked to be about 64 ounces and she did it twice. That was enough water to fill his lungs three times over.”

“We can do it, I know we can,” she croaked.

“There's no amount of CPR that can expel that much water. And his lungs are so heavy they’re actively swelling as we speak.”

“We won’t know unless we try Jason, you get the mouth and I’ll get the chest.”

“Blowing air into his already expanding lungs won't help Emery.”

“Am I supposed to just watch him die then?” she chided. “Isn’t there a way to drain it?”

“I'm no doctor and neither do we have the tools or the sterile space to do that.”

“Fuck a sterile space!”

“Not only would you infect him but stabbing anything in his chest to ‘drain it’ will only make him bleed out. We would need a very specific and precise needle.”

“No, we can do it,” she answered, starting the compressions again.

The splattering of liquids on the floor lets me know that Lynn has just emptied the contents of her stomach, but I'm in no mood to comfort.

“The body works in 3’s. Three days without water, three weeks without food, and three minutes without air. It’s been about seven now.”

“Shut up.”

“Lorenzo’s lungs are so heavy they’ve probably detached from his windpipe. That, coupled with no oxygen to his brain…at least he was unconscious before it happened.

“Jason either you help me or you leave,” Emery threatened, fat teardrops rolling down her face in droves.

There’s five stages of grief and they’re at the first one. Back against the furniture, I hold my head in my hands, listening to sugars light whimpers and Emery's ragged breathing.

She tires herself out with compressions, fists flying to his chest, pleading for him to wake up. Hands clutched over her ears, sugar rocks back and forth, mumbling out apologies, expletives, and frustrations; guilt no doubt eating her alive.

Hands dropping to my pocket, I rummage around for anything I can chew on, ready to get out of here and never see these people again. Fingers slipping free with the peppermint goodness, I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth.

Some minutes pass by, how many I don't know and the night grows quiet. As tragic as it’s been for everyone, this minute's peace brings about a small sense of tranquility. There’s the occasional sniffle and I watch as the sky transitions from pitch black to a pale pink, the telltale sign of the sun about to rise.

“At least his parents will be home soon right?” sugar questions.

“Yep, right in time enough to see their only son sprawled out on the floor and his friends scattered across the property. So much for the new owners, their home just turned into a crime scene.”

“Do you have any more gum?” Emery asked, voice sore from crying.

Tossing it in her direction, she catches it, face upturned once she removes the wrapper.

“Eww, Jason what the fuck, who the hell buys brown gum? What kind of flavor even is this?”

“It's peppermint,” I answered, popping a bubble.

“Still weird, I haven’t seen this shit since-“

The words die on her tongue. She looks up to me, revelation fresh on her features, which slowly etches into panic, as a sinister grin makes its way onto mine.

[venzilanddeathcult]

BELATED NEW YEARS LIST OF COOL ALBUMS I DISCOVERED IN 2023 OH BOY THIS POST IS GONNA BE LONG

2023 was without a doubt the year ive listened to the most music in all of my life, so there's quite a hefty bit of albums to list, and i'll try to put them in a loose order of when i listened to them, but no promises!

I will limit it to one album per band, while noting the other ones i could have listened to within the text

Sadly, i didn't get around to hearing The Beggar by SWANS yet, so it won't make this list. that said heres the first one lol

SPIDERLAND

(By Slint)

Also known as the "how the fuck did a bunch of dudes in their early 20s make something this fucking great" album

I first listened to this one at a friend's house since he had it on vinyl, and halfway through the album i was losing my shit and repeatedly exclaiming loudly how fucking amazing the album was

It's very hard to put into words just how fucking good this album is, it's definitely one of the albums that put me onto Post Rock as a whole, and changed the way i view guitar playing pretty significantly

Every song feels immaculately constructed (the weakest one being the short instrumental that comes right before my personal favorite, Good Morning, Captain, the final song of the album that's linked above) and the raw emotional output won me over pretty early into my first listen. It is now my second favorite album of all time, good shit, i urge anyone reading who hasn't listened yet to give it a shot

Give their first album a listen too!

THE POD

(By Ween)

Not much i can say about this album i haven't said before i think, so here are the notes i took about it while listening to it for the first time (on a plane ride)

"Listened to this album during the plane ride Might be one of Ween's best It's so noisy and shitty and gross Only enchanced by the plane ride nausea and the very low energy feel the altitude gives It's Like if the Best album of all time got recorded on the shittiest hardware ever i'm Gonna listen to it a lot I can tell The noisiest part of the [referring to the last song here] song started on the most turbulent part of the ride And I was all for it"

I was already a Ween fan by this point, but hadn't listened to their earlier stuff, especially The Pod since every attempt at listening to it made me genuinely nauseous for some reason, but damn did braving through the album pay off. it's one of my favorite Ween albums and every time i get a fever i put it on to at least find some comfort in the wooziness. big recommendation

OCTAHEDRON

(By The Mars Volta)

I've been a Mars Volta fan since very early 2022, but i didn't get around to exploring their full catalogue until after the release of their comeback album later that same year, with Octahedron being the last of them (the rest i gave first listens to in 2022)

It's a decently strong change from their previous album (The Bedlam in Goliath), which was probably their most intense and chaotic album, although it definitely fell flat in a few aspects (Weirdly produced, some filler that could have been cut out that makes some stuff sound samey, something that wasn't much of an issue with Volta albums up until that TBiG)

It feels like it sort of harkens back to their earlier albums such as Frances the Mute and Tremulant while also going forward in a direction that makes sense considering 2012's Noctourniquet.

It's still not something as well constructed as their earlier albums, but it's a seriously good effort and worth listening to at least once, some seriously catchy and memorable songs in here

IN TIMES NEW ROMAN...

(By Queens Of The Stone Age)

I've been a fan of Queens Of The Stone Age for basically as long as i can remember, which only intensified in the pandemic as i would spend my days listening to Era Vulgaris on loop for hours and hours

There was not a single album from them that i didn't love, something about their entire style is extremely appealing to my ears, and when i heard they would release a new album i damn near shat myself and eagerly awaited for news

Then Emotion Sickness came out, with it's Era Vulgaris-reminiscent sound, ESPECIALLY the chorus and i couldn't be happier, there was absolutely no end to my hype

And thankfully, once the album came out, i realized these motherfuckers STILL have it in them to make a really fucking solid rock album, it seems they shed the slightly more polished sound of Villains and went back to that good old rougher sound they used to have, while not ditching some of the bells and whistles that made their reunion records work

Seriously solid album and i'd recommend it to anyone that enjoys this style of rock. good stuff

Church goes here

CONTEMPORARY MOVEMENT

(By Duster)

Shed away all of those memes about Sisyphus featuring a song off this album and underneath you will find a really emotional slowcore album with such an immaculate vibe i can't help but just. sink into it as i listen, if that makes sense

Before listening to this album i was a big fan of that Experimental Dust bootleg, but had never listened to their other stuff until i did

Almost every song is just oozing with this unmistakably Duster sound that is so perfectly melancholic you cant help but just be right there with them, it's some seriously great stuff, lovely album.

I also listened to Stratosphere, but i didn't listen to it much so i don't feel like it fits in this post, but rest assured it's a damn good time as well. Great album, very sad, should probably only listen to it in a good headspace but you do you

WISH YOU WERE HERE

(By Pink Floyd)

Enough said. its peak

same applies to Animals

A FUCK TON OF ALBUMS

(By SWANS)

No, really, just in 2023 i gave first listens to:

To Be Kind

The Seer

White Light From The Mouth of Infinity

Love of Life

Greed

The Great Annihilator

The Burning World

It's too much to talk about, but SWANS is one of my favorite bands, and honestly, if you're really curious, just shoot me a DM for thoughts on any of these albums haha, i'm always overjoyed to talk about music with people, especially SWANS.

loveless

(By my bloody valentine)

One of my biggest regrets is not listening to this album in full earlier than i did. It's seriously such a fucking incredible experience from start to finish that i can't even find much to say about it that hasn't been said before, just give it a listen

MT EERIE

(By The Microphones)

Sorry kids i havent listened to the glow pt 2 yet cant talk about it

I randomly discovered The Microphones on my youtube recommendations one day while listening to completely unrelated music, but clicked due to the artwork catching my interest and was completely enthralled by their melancholic acoustic sound followed by real intense percussion in some songs, and the flirting with experimentation that goes on throughout the entire album, it's seriously great and it touched me in a way not much music has. Big recommendation

IN RAINBOWS

(By Radiohead)

It's hard to say something about this album that hasn't been said already, so i won't.

Give it a listen, even if you're not a fan of their usual stuff, this album still stands out as a pretty interesting project and i enjoy it quite a lot

Also listened to from them this year: OK Computer and Kid A, heavily enjoyed both but In Rainbows remains my favorite

DOOLITTLE

(By Pixies)

Now for my most listened album of the year, spawned from the same night that got me into Spiderland (my 2nd most listened to album...go figure)

Having listened to Where Is My Mind? upon watching Fight Club, that was sadly the only Pixies song i stuck to for a while, but once i heard this album i kept on digging and digging through it to finally get what it is that made me enjoy this band's sound

It actually took me quite a fucking while to fully "get" this album, but the album slowly earned my full appreciation and became something i'd spend days listening to on loop, enjoying the ride from start to finish, it's a seriously good album, and if you wanna hear where some of that 90s rock dynamic came from, this and Surfer Rosa are considered some of the most notable precursors to it, so there you have it. give it a listen!

CLUBE DA ESQUINA

(By Milton Nascimento & Lô Borges)

LINK TO "Tudo O Que Você Podia Ser" FROM THE ALBUM (10 VIDEOS PER POST LIMIT LOL)

I struggle to choose a singular song to link, because every part of this album is crafted with such intricate musicianship and mix matching of Brazilian tradition with a foreign, beatles-esque flavor which is so smoothly and lovingly woven into the entire record. It's an absolute must for anyone interested in the music of Brazil, and one of my absolute favorite albums of all time. i recommend this one to every person i discuss music with, it's a seriously outstanding achievement of an album. give it a listen.

CENTER OF ATTENTION

(By InI)

LINK TO "No More Words" FROM THE ALBUM

I am a HUGE fan of the Jazz Rap style developed in the east coast during the 90s, and InI's shelved debut is one of those crowning examples i now look to when introducing people to the style. Right from the start the album sets you in it's laid back vibe, with it's nice groovy beats that tastefully sample old jazz records in a way that really adds to the album's whole atmosphere. Great album, give it a try.

DUMMY

(By Portishead)

LINK TO "Sour Times" FROM THE ALBUM

While regrettably not having listened to the rest of their output, this album still manages to blow me away every single time i listen to a song off it. There's something so lovable about the gloomy atmosphere paired with those spy movie ass guitars and absolutely breathtaking vocals. every member plays such a strong part in the album's atmosphere to the point you can pay attention to just one component and still be interested the whole way through. this album is so fucking good. give it a listen

SPEAKERBOXXX / THE LOVE BELOW

(By OutKast)

LINK TO "Church" FROM THE FIRST SIDE OF THE ALBUM

LINK TO "Love Hater" FROM THE SECOND SIDE OF THE ALBUM

Outkast has always been one of my favorites in rap, but i never took the time to listen to their biggest project, the double album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, which is kind of two solo albums from Big Boi and Andre 3000 (in that order) packaged as an Outkast album, but god damn, they made it work really well.

EVERY single song in this album is a fucking banger (GhettoMusick being one of my favorites), the only thing holding it down are some skits that, while some of them are pretty funny, still leave you just wanting to get to the next track, but anyone who's listened to enough rap albums already knows how this stuff goes (first wu-tang album, anyone?)

One of my favorite rap albums, give it a shot, i guarantee at least 3 songs from it will be stuck in your head after.

PAUL'S BOUTIQUE

(By Beastie Boys)

LINK TO "The Sounds of Science" FROM THE ALBUM

Another one of such cases where every song is a banger, the songs are all so fucking awesomely creative i can't help but have a wide smile on my face every time i listen, the crazy amount of samples in this album really makes it quite a unique listen, especially as a Beatles fan which means The Sounds Of Science is enough whiplash to give J.K. Simmons a run for his money

Really fun album, give it a shot

MELLON COLLIE AND THE INFINITE SADNESS

(By The Smashing Pumpkins)

LINK TO "Tales Of A Scorched Earth" FROM THE ALBUM

I've been a moderate Smashing Pumpkins fan since i was a kid, with Siamese Dream being a favorite, and Drown being one of my favorite songs of all time at that point, but i never took the time to listen to the album that followed it, partly due to it being so massive, but once i took the plunge i spent the next 2 hours sitting in my chair absolutely floored by every song that came my way. This is a seriously impressive album from start to finish and it's one i'll cherish for years to come, every song feels like it's earned it's place, with both the soft and hard songs being equally interesting and ear catching.

Outstanding album, give it a listen.

THE FAT OF THE LAND

(By The Prodigy)

LINK TO "Breathe" FROM THE ALBUM

I'm usually not much of an electronic music guy, but this album really caught my attention after watching Dario Casali's playthrough of Half-Life of all things, where he said he would frequently listen to The Prodigy during development, so i decided to give it a shot, having heard some of their music (Particularly in the film Kick-Ass) and i spent the next week or so religiously listening to this album on loop, it's so endlessly replayable and just fun to listen to that i instantly became hooked. Aside from that, there's not much to say, it's a very fun, energetic album, give it a shot.

THE ENTIRE FUCKING SYSTEM OF A DOWN DISCOGRAPHY

(By...yeah)

LINK TO "Soil" FROM "System Of A Down"

LINK TO "Prison Song" FROM "Toxicity"

LINK TO "Fuck the System" FROM "Steal This Album!"

LINK TO "Radio / Video" FROM "Mezmerize"

LINK TO "Vicinity Of Obscenity" FROM "Hypnotize" (not sure why people dislike this one?)

Same deal as SWANS, too much to talk about, shoot me a dm about it if you're really that curious, i don't mind.

ALL OF IT IS FUCKING GREAT. GIVE THEM A LISTEN. ENOUGH SAID

F♯ A♯ ∞

(By Godspeed You! Black Emperor)

LINK TO "East Hastings" FROM THE ALBUM

It's hard for me to put into words what listening to this album for the first time did for me. It's one of the most atmospheric, wonderful things i've ever had the pleasure of listening to, all 3 songs in this masterpiece keep me entranced until the very last second, including the very unnecessarily long silence at the end of Providence for the hidden song. I have yet to listen to their next album, which i've been told by a mutual is even better, so i'm very excited for that. Give this one a listen.

MARQUEE MOON

(By Television)

LINK TO "See No Evil" FROM THE ALBUM

god i am not a fan of this album cover

that being said, this album is a pretty nice, post punkish record which reminds me a lot of 80s Talking Heads, but i don't have much to say about it. it's simply a good album, and i recommend it heavily. give it a shot

THE UNNATURAL WORLD

(By Have A Nice Life)

LINK TO "Guggenheim Wax Museum" FROM THE ALBUM

I fucking love Deathconsciousness, but stayed at that album for a while, until, for whatever reason, during my initial playthrough of Dark Souls 1 (great game, by the way, enjoyed it lots) i decided to give it a spin and wound up listening to it for basically the rest of the game. It has this gloomy vibe HANL is known for, but it feels like its played a lot more straight than Deathcon, it feels darker, i dunno.

Very good follow-up, even if i think the previous album is overall stronger, this one is still a great listen

LEAVES TURN INSIDE YOU

(By Unwound)

LINK TO "Radio Gra" FROM THE ALBUM

I regrettably struggle to find much to say about this album, which is a shame because i really do love it a lot.

It has this sound that is at times reminiscent of Slint, which made me immediately fall in love, while still standing out as it's own thing, it's a very good fucking album from start to finish, but that's all i can say about it really, i need to listen to it more, and Unwound's other stuff.

Big recommendation right here

FRANKENCHRIST

(By Dead Kennedys)

LINK TO "MTV - Get Off The Air" FROM THE ALBUM

Dead Kennedys is one of my favorite bands (Old Testament DK anyways, Dead Kennedys without Jello is kinda wack, sorry!), and their previous album, Plastic Surgery Disasters remains one of my favorite punk rock records to date, but i had not yet listened to the latter half of their discography, something i now regret, since it's equally as good.

Frankenchrist is a bit of detour from PSD's VERY harsh sound, sounding a little more rounded, less noisy if that makes sense, but Jello Biafra's biting social commentary and witty writing remains intact through it all and makes for an album as entertaining and awesome as the rest of their work. Seriously great, listen to it.

MAGGOT BRAIN

(By Funkadelic)

LINK TO "Maggot Brain" FROM THE ALBUM

Having started my musical ambitions as an aspiring Funk guitarist (part of why my right hand strums so loosely haha), Funkadelic was always on my radar, with their debut album being one of the albums i listened to the most and looked for inspiration in during the pandemic, but for some reason, i never opted to listen to Maggot Brain until this year, which, as is per usual for albums i dont listen to, was a big fucking mistake, since this album is filled with bangers from start to finish. I love it to death.

An absolute must-listen to any funk rock fans

AT ACTION PARK

(By Shellac)

LINK TO "Crow" FROM THE ALBUM

Being a fan of Steve Albini's work both in production and with Big Black, listening to Shellac eventually was a no-brainer, but i procrastinated on it until a particularly lengthy hospital visit where i had enough time to kill and listened to this album, being taken in by that noisy goodness until the album finished. I struggle to find something to say, but the song structures in this album are so weird and they don't hesitate to stay longer than usual and linger on some chords which gives songs this really punchy vibe i can't describe. Great album.

AND FINALLY....

UNDERTOW

(By TOOL)

LINK TO "Prison Sex" FROM THE ALBUM

I'm a huge fan of TOOL, but never listened to their debut until i saw it on a mutual's top albums list, which convinced me i should give it a shot, and so i did!

...On the fucking last hour of 2023

I shit you not, the album ended in the last fuckign MINUTE of the year. 23:59. Finished listening and immediately got up to await the countdown.

That aside, you can really see how they went from this to Ænima, as it has a lot of the harder parts of that album, with less...esoteric(?) peculiarities inbetween, while still being a really good fucking album and enjoyable from start to finish, there wasn't a single song that had me bored. A worthy album to finish the year with...and this list!

FINALLY finished writing this absolute behemoth of a post, and i hope it at least gets one person to check these albums out.

Here's to a great 2024 for all! Thanks for reading!

[thesamsaraholidays]

Explore Ladakh with the Best DMC for Ladakh | The Samsara Holidays

Ladakh, known as the "Land of High Passes," is a paradise for travelers seeking adventure, tranquility, and cultural richness. Nestled in the northernmost part of India, this region offers breathtaking landscapes, ancient monasteries, and an array of thrilling activities. Planning a trip to such a remote and diverse destination can be daunting, but with the Best DMC for Leh Ladakh, your journey becomes seamless and memorable.

Why Visit Ladakh?

Ladakh's unparalleled beauty lies in its rugged mountains, crystal-clear lakes, and vast, open skies. Here are some reasons why Ladakh should be on your travel bucket list:

Stunning Landscapes: From the mesmerizing Pangong Lake to the serene Nubra Valley, Ladakh's natural beauty is truly awe-inspiring. The region is a photographer's dream, with its dramatic contrasts of colors and textures.

Rich Cultural Heritage: Ladakh is home to ancient monasteries like Hemis, Thiksey, and Diskit. These monasteries not only offer spiritual solace but also a glimpse into the region's unique Buddhist heritage.

Adventure Activities: For thrill-seekers, Ladakh offers numerous adventure activities. Trekking, river rafting, and mountain biking are popular ways to explore the rugged terrain. The Chadar Trek and Markha Valley Trek are particularly famous among trekkers.

Unique Festivals: Ladakh's vibrant festivals, such as Hemis Festival and Losar, provide an opportunity to witness the region's rich traditions and colorful celebrations.

Planning Your Trip

When planning a trip to Ladakh, partnering with a reliable destination management company "The Samsara Holidays" (DMC) is very important. The best DMC for Leh Ladakh ensures a hassle-free experience by taking care of all travel arrangements, including permits, accommodations, and guided tours.

Top Attractions in Ladakh

Pangong Lake

Pangong Lake, one of the highest saltwater lakes in the world, is famous for its ever-changing hues. Located at an altitude of 4,350 meters, this pristine lake stretches across India and China, offering spectacular views that captivate every visitor.

Nubra Valley

Nubra Valley, also known as the "Valley of Flowers," is a stark contrast to Ladakh's rugged landscape. The valley is famous for its sand dunes, Bactrian camels, and the stunning Diskit Monastery, which houses a 32-meter tall statue of Maitreya Buddha.

Hemis Monastery

Hemis Monastery, the largest and wealthiest monastery in Ladakh, is a must-visit. It is renowned for the annual Hemis Festival, which celebrates the birth of Guru Padmasambhava. The festival features vibrant masked dances, traditional music, and elaborate costumes.

Adventure Awaits

Ladakh is an adventurer's playground, offering a range of activities that cater to different levels of experience and enthusiasm.

Trekking: Ladakh boasts some of the most challenging and scenic trekking routes. The Chadar Trek, which involves walking on the frozen Zanskar River, is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Other popular treks include the Markha Valley Trek and the Stok Kangri Trek.

River Rafting: The Zanskar River offers thrilling rafting opportunities, with its fast-flowing waters and deep gorges. Rafting through the Zanskar Canyon is an exhilarating way to experience the raw beauty of Ladakh.

Mountain Biking: For cycling enthusiasts, the rugged terrain and high-altitude passes of Ladakh provide a perfect setting for mountain biking. The Manali-Leh highway is particularly popular among bikers.

Best Time to Visit

The best time to visit Ladakh is from May to September, when the weather is pleasant and the roads are accessible. During this period, the snow melts, and the region comes alive with vibrant colors and bustling activities. The winter months, from November to February, are extremely cold, with many areas becoming inaccessible due to heavy snowfall.

Conclusion

Ladakh is a destination that promises an unforgettable experience, blending natural beauty, adventure, and cultural richness. To make the most of your trip, partnering with the best DMC for Leh Ladakh is essential. They ensure that every aspect of your journey is well-planned and executed, allowing you to focus on creating lasting memories.

Embark on an adventure of a lifetime and discover the enchanting beauty of Ladakh.

For more information and to start planning your trip, contact the Best DMC for Leh Ladakh.

Book now and explore more!

[aecholapis]

Songs I put on loop while thinking about or drawing my OCs - Part 1

Helios: Icarus - Deus Ex: Human Revolution Collapsing Sun - Brandon Lau Angel On Fire - Halsey Imposter Syndrome - London Music Works Epilogue - Everest Your Majesty - The Crown If You Should Fall - Craig Armstrong Hey - Andreas Bourani Imádlak - Katona Ernesztina Divenire - Ludovico Einaudi This is Our Planet - Our Planet Hope for Tomorrow - Daemon X Machina Fragments of Hope - Astral Chain Aegis Research Institute - Astral Chain - Combat Mix by Baron Von Lag Natural Light - Portal Stories: Mel The Luminoth - Metroid Prime 2 Torvus Bog - Metroid Prime 2 Skytown - Metroid Prime 3 Lost in the Sky - Metroid Prime 3 - Skytown Remix by myr Azeleza - Red_OWLdeer Adiemus - Adiemus The Final Attack - Astral Chain The IXION OST The Interstellar OST Too many Fire Emblem Three Houses tracks to list them all

And the legendary God Shattering Star cover by Joe Zieja and Jules Conroy because I headcanon his voice to be similar to Claude's from FE3H for some reason and since Joe is his VA I can vividly imagine Helios singing this cover. It would be so funny. Let the small copter go ham with his vocal cords.

Ironwing and Altitude (partially): Speechless - Aladdin - cover by Peyton Parrish My Mother Told Me - Assassin's Creed: Valhalla - cover by Peyton Parrish Edge Of Night - The Lord of the Rings - cover by Peyton Parrish Helgafjell - Peyton Parrish ft. David Michael Frank Drengr of Ragnarök - Peyton Parrish ft. Jonathan Young Svarteboka - Gåte ft. Djerv Skarvane - Gåte The Rise of Vikingr album

Nightjet: Silent Guardians - Hyrule Warriors Bryyo Cliffside - Metroid Prime 3 Lower Norfair Mashup - Metroid - mashup by Axell The Swampert Chasing Daybreak (Thunder) - Fire Emblem Three Houses Victor's Hollow - Octopath Traveler - cover by Jules Conroy Oniro Mou - Yianna Terzi Palästinalied - Estampie Небо - Слободан Тркуља Brothers in Arms - Daemon X Machina Title Theme - Metroid Prime 3

Railjet: Runaway Train - Self Deception ;-) Asturias (Leyenda) - Isaac Albéniz - cover by Ana Vidović Gerudo Valley - Ocarina of Time - cover by Matt Sellick Victor's Hollow - Octopath Traveler Highlands Theme - Octopath Traveler Among Stately Peaks - Octopath Traveler Homunculus Delta - Astral Chain Grand War - Daemon X Machina Title Theme - Metroid Prime Trilogy - cover by Wingus Dingus

Firecry and his siblings: Kiss from a Rose - Seal - cover by Jonathan Young, Caleb Hyles, RichaadEB Idolize - Caleb Hyles Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson (Glee version) - cover by Anna Pantsu ft. Caleb Hyles Fight Fire With Gasoline - Self Deception Weight of the World - Self Deception State of Elysium - Self Deception Legends - Self Deception Starlight Brigade - TWRP ft. Dan Avidan (please watch the music video, it's so good) The Starship Velociraptor album (same as Anvil)

Anvil and his former mining team: Kiss from a Rose - Seal - cover by Jonathan Young, Caleb Hyles, RichaadEB Storm the Castle - Jonathan Young Divided - Jonathan Young Damage Done - Jonathan Young ft. RichaadEB Land of Broken Dreams - Jonathan Young ft. Caleb Hyles Land of the Living - Jonathan Young Unholy - cover by Jonathan Young ft. Lauren Babic (¬‿¬) The Starship Velociraptor album All of Jonathan Young's sea shanty covers

Cryoslope and his former underwater mining team: Chemical Worker's Song - Ron Angel - cover by Colm McGuinness Here's a Health to the Company - Assassin's Creed IV - cover by Colm McGuinness Scarborough Fair - cover by Colm McGuinness The Foggy Dew - cover by Colm McGuinness Islander - Bruce Moss- cover by Derina Harvey Band Lost On You - LP Song of the Sea - Mirella Díez Morán Into the Unknown - Subnautica Abandon Ship - Subnautica Torvus Hydrodynamo - Metroid Prime 2 Troubled Water - Portal Stories: Mel Transitional Period (funnel) - Portal Stories: Mel Live Fire Exercise - Portal Stories: Mel

Dataduct and the Throttlecons: Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson (Glee version) - cover by Anna Pantsu ft. Caleb Hyles Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (another great music video) Promise - Voyager Loco - Manian Tonight - Yüksek

Carbonlight: Children of the Omnissiah - Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus Noosphere - Warhammer 40k: Mechanicus Millennial Rage - Warhammer 40k: Mechanicus Tenebre Rosso Sangue - Ultrakill Title Theme - Metroid Prime - cover by Amie Waters Menu Theme - Metroid Prime 2 VS. Emperor Ing (Phase 1) - Metroid Prime 2 VS. Emperor Ing (Phase 2) - Metroid Prime 2 System Corruption - Portal Stories: Mel (Harry Callaghan) Track 10 - Asphalt 6 VS. Jena Anderson (all phases) - Astral Chain The Creation of Noah - Astral Chain Inside Noah - Astral Chain VS. Noah (all phases) - Astral Chain Symphony No. 9 (New World Symphony) - Dvořák Ecstasy of Gold - Ennio Morricone Arms of Immortal - Daemon X Machina The entire Mechanicus OST

[imthepunchlord]

Random Story Setting Idea (you don't have to do anything with this if you don't want to, I just want to see writers' thoughts when they hear these prompts):

A dark and foreboding Palais Garnier opera house engaged a naval war in a world where people live in a giant city floating in the sky.

A few times in life, Bea always heard that the people of the High Sea lived with their heads in the clouds, blind to the world below. All they would do was stare up at the near stars, glide over and shape clouds, and race the wild winds. Never to turn their gales down.

And now through the clouds, the Empire's ships broke through, trailing thick black smoke behind them, the molded metal faces of sea dragons, sharks, seals snarling outward, as if ready to come alive and bite at the floating islands of the High Sea.

And as of now, they were hunting Harmony Hall, the last standing major island of the High Sea, where the High King hid himself away, no doubt working with Holly to try and keep the illusion up, to hide them from the hunters that fly below, prowling the open air.

From Bea's understanding, it was putting off the inevitable. She doesn't know much about witches, but surely they couldn't keep an illusion this big going for long--

"Are you nervous, Miss Beatrice?"

Bea had a start, looking up to see Lady Mary Annette drawing near, glassy eyes staring outward, blind to all that was before her, yet she moved with grace and certainty, as if the world was clear to her. Her yellow dress flowed around her frame as the wind tugged at it, even pulling a few pale strands free of the refined braid her hair had been weaved to. Lady Mary gaze vacantly outward, staring at the stalking ships with odd tranquility.

Bea gestured to the ships, stressing out, "A little."

Lady Mary gave a soft hum.

"Are you terrified?" Bea asked. She had heard from her brother, Warren, that the High Sea rarely ever saw any war or knew how bad it would be with the Empire.

"I don't have much to fear," Lady Mary said simply. Her head turned towards Bea stiffly, glassy blue eyes staring down at her. "You don't have much to fear either."

"I don't?" Bea asked, with a near laugh. That was far from the truth. Of what they found, of what the Empire desired.

Lady Mary wouldn't know just how much danger she and Warren would be in once the illusion fell.

Cold fingers came to grasp Bea's shoulder, and she looked back into those glassy eyes. Without even a smile, Lady Mary told her in a coy tone, "Did you know that Harmony Hall bore a different name, eons ago?"

"...No."

There was a twitch of the lady's eye, her coy tone growing. "It was once known as the Cradle Chamber, where a terrifying monster was put to rest. Legends says that when the music stops, it'll awaken." Shining eyes turned towards the ships, a giddiness in her tone as she said, "And thanks to them, the music has long stopped. It won't be long now."

"Wha-- wait," Bea babbled, "should, should we be afraid?"

Lady Mary answered with a melodious hum.

"What sleeps here?" Bea asked, scrambling to her feet, facing the dolled up noblewoman. "What is here?"

If there was a sea monster here, that could devastating for everyone.

"Bea!"

She jumped, turning to see Warren and Noah hurrying towards her, carrying rope and hooks. Warren was quick to scold, "What are you doing out here?! You're supposed to help us get ready--"

"There's a sea monster here," Bea cut in quickly.

"What," Noah gasped, almost dropping the rope and hooks. "What kind? Does it have a name?"

"I don't know, Lady Mary was about to," Bea started to say, turning back to the aristocrat. Only Lady Mary was gone. All that was beside Bea was the cool, open air.

"Lady Mary's asleep in the foyer," Warren told her, giving her a raised brow.

"But, but she was..." She was here, wasn't she?

"Maybe the altitude's getting to you," Noah teased, though he couldn't hide his nervousness.

Warren pushed the rope and hooks into Bea's arms, pulling out a blueprint and opening it to glare at it. "I need you to help Noah set the traps, I'm going to double check and make sure all the escape routes will work. In case Harmony Hall does fall, there are supposedly underground tunnels that lead to a hidden entrance. Maybe I can ease Marshell in there..."

Warren didn't wait for either to reply as he hurried away, frantic from the near imperial fleet.

"Do you think there's really a sea monster here?" Noah asked.

"I don't know," Bea stressed with a groan. "Come on, let's just get ready in case the illusion falls." Well, when it falls. Holly Graham took a lot of pride in her work as a magician, and the High King was famous with his magic, but they were only human. They couldn't keep it up forever. Warren had the right idea, all they could do was prepare.

She and Noah ran into Harmony Hall's foyer, and there she Lady Mary, seated with a slight slouch. She was so unnervingly still, she looked like a doll that had been put away, it's time to be played with over.

Bea pushed the odd thoughts back, now following Noah's direction as he shared with her the ideas Warren had to prepare them.

[peruvian-cities]

Lago Titicaca-Sea of  the Andes 

This destination is meant for those that are looking to be immersed in Peruvian culture. This lake is a national treasure, it is local legend that the world was created from the lake by the Incan god Viracocha. Its habitants continue to practice traditional customs, they wear typical colorful garments, and they are farmers and fishermen. Their way of life has been preserved through centuries, they still speak quechua and host festivals with traditional music and dances. One of them is the party of the Virgen de la Candelaria, where dancers bring offerings to Mother Earth while wearing demonic masks. 

A unique characteristic of the lake its the floating islands that were built by the Uros. These man made islands allowed them to stay isolated from enemies, there are 40 of them. They sit on top of the lake's 3800 meters of altitude , which makes it the tallest lake in the world. While on the islands the locals show how they use the totora, a aquatic plant, to built their houses and boats. As well they share their day to day routines and history. 

Pictures by: Jeison Higuita, Persnickety Prints

https://unsplash.com/photos/piGJujLGW_s

https://unsplash.com/photos/xq0MW-DM6Cc  Source:

https://www.klm.es/travel-guide/inspiration/lake-titicaca-a-cultural-and-natural-highlight

https://www.peru.travel/pe/atractivos/lago-titicaca

[hazwardous]

Luxury Hotels to the Cheap Hotels of Korea

Korea, one of the continuous civilizations oldest, has a distinct cultural identity which cannot be absorptive by its larger adjoining countries. The music, the trades, ceramics and painting form a group of excellent traditional Korean arts. The musicians have a remarkable strength of the song without interruption during more than eight hours. The articles marvelously wrought deserve the appreciation. Korea is not only famous for its rich culture, but also for its normal beauty, which had attracted the myriad of tourist and had made him a destination of tourists.

The increase appreciated in the number of tourists had led to the establishment of the hotels in Korea, extending from the luxury hotels to the cheap hotels of Korea. They offer comfortable housing with several equipment and approvals to satisfy their customers. They also serve their visitors with the equipment recreational to add the recreation and the excitation to their voyage. Several of these hotels are located in the proximity at the destinations of the tourists

Seoul, the capital and larger city of South Korea covers the larger second metropolitan zone. It includes the various temples, the parks, the gardens and external attractions which had made at this place preferred spot tourists. With regard to their housing, the hotels of Seoul offered to them comfortable housing with all the equipment required. Some spots of tourists preferred around Seoul are: -

o Palate of Gyeongbokgung it is the jewel of five historical palates of Seoul. The National museum, the gardens, the ponds, the apartments and the staterooms are certain excellent architectural devices of the rectangular palate. o Village of Namsangol Hanaok it comes like surprised among skyscrapers. The visitors can appreciate the traditional the, the stores, the trades and the products manufactured with the hand in this peaceful village in the center of the city. o World of Burbot it is the park with main theme in Seoul which is filled of recreation and quiver. The park has two secondary of interior and external divisions. The interior section contains the Land of adventure of `which contains streets representing various countries and their activities, entertainments, stores etc the external section contains the magic island with the castle which offer to high-altitudes turns, test of pleasant walk around a lake.

There are many attractions in Korea which attracted the tourist on other side of the world. Some of them are:

o Temple Bulguk-SA it is one of the large Buddhist temple which was identified like international cultural property. o The temple of cave of Samjeon these sectors of temple were declared as a cultural property of the country. It is also Buddhist temple having a spectacular sight perched on a hill. o The national park of Jiri-san the part of three provinces of Korea is composed of jets, peaks, falls of water and rivers. These national parks show the interior beauty and the charm of the country.

[jonny-thoughts]

Dancing in the Morning: An Introspective Journal Entry About Social Anxiety and How I Spend My Time

Morning of March 20, 2022

This morning I am using an idea I learned from Michael Meade; I am writing down as much as I remember about my dream from last night - I also danced this morning, allowing my emotions to transform into motions, which felt incredible. The main thing I remember is that my girlfriend found out she was pregnant with twin boys. I was so excited to bring two people into this world and I remember feeling more connected with my girlfriend and ready to raise our boys together. There were no thoughts of regret or worry that I would be missing out on things even that we were to have our children in our twenties. Much of the narrative that I have heard around having children young, especially in urban centers, is that people miss out on “life” (ironic, isn’t it?). I think it depends on what sort of lifestyle you live. This motivated some pondering on my lifestyle.

Today is Sunday. Last night I had the opportunity to stay out late, meet new people, and hear live music. Saturday morning I woke up at 3:45am refreshed and ready to immerse myself in nature. I went for a hike through the snow with a friend in the Mt. Lady Washington wilderness near Estes Park. Exposing myself to the elements was tough at first; I had difficulty breathing at that altitude. On top of that, I would consider myself somewhat out of shape. Soon my breath reached a comfortable equilibrium where I didn’t feel like I was gasping for air every five seconds. In moments like these where I overcome the discomfort of shortness of breath, I am grateful for the researchers from whom I’ve learned breathwork to help in this situation. The method I perform looks like the following: breathe slowly in taking long and deep breaths, being careful not to suck in a ton of air rapidly. Then, hold the breath all the way out. From what I’ve read in James Nestor’s book Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art, this allows my body to use oxygen more efficiently. 

When we passed the tree line and walked into rolling hills of snow and sporadic pines, we could feel the cold and icy air hitting our ears and faces; this was quite uncomfortable. We kept walking a little bit, but then upon further research from my hiking partner who is an avid hiker, outdoorsman, and mountaineer, we turned back in an effort to avoid a storm that would potentially be dangerous. We got back to our cars, said farewell, and I drove the two hours home back to Denver. 

When I got home, I rested briefly, then got on my bike and rode to the tennis courts to meet some friends. After playing tennis I rode home, rested briefly once again, and met my friend, call him Oliver, at the bar near my house called Shorty’s for a pitcher of Coors Banquet and some dinner. It was a St. Patrick’s Day-themed celebration at the bar so they had specials like Carbombs, Shepherd's Pie, and of course, Corned Beef and Cabbage. I ordered the Shepherd’s Pie and Corned Beef and Cabbage and enjoyed the pitcher as Oliver and I shared pleasant conversation. Oliver invited me to see a band that I was unfamiliar with. I thought that I should accept the offer for a few reasons. First, a few weeks ago I was trying to find someone to attend a concert with me since I had an extra ticket and Oliver said yes. We went and we had a great time. Second, I felt a societal pressure to go because “that’s what people our age do”.

In addition to the concert, Oliver was adamant about seeing a new friend of his, we will call him Frank, at some point in the evening. As time grew closer to the concert, Frank was at an apartment party. As odd as this may sound, that just did not sound fun to me. I was tired from my day and did not have the energy to place myself in such an environment and be my full, attentive self. After some trepidation, I decided to call it a night after Shorty’s. By going home and going to bed early I felt like I was potentially missing out. I wasn’t participating in the events or lifestyle that most people in their twenties living in a city would want to do. But this morning, I am very content with my decision. 

I initially woke up feeling anxious about my decision and I was worried that people in my life would be disappointed in me for skipping out on such a “fun” night. I was almost crippled with my melancholy, but I awoke early in the morning (7:45) and got myself out of bed and into the kitchen where I put the kettle on the stove to make some tea. I then moved my body in my living room, feeling the flow of my emotions transform into physical movement. Because I was feeling anxious, my movements appeared as if I was trying to purge something out of me. I then became more open with my movements, swaying side-to-side and opening up my ever-tight hips. At this point I felt a tremendous flow of life, prana, chi, whatever you want to call it. This reminded me of how good you feel when you move and take care of your body. I stretched while I drank my tea and read some articles online. I then grabbed my computer.

No one can tell the future, but we can project the future based on the past. If I were to do this as sincerely as possible in the context of this weekend, I can confidently say that had I gone out last night, I would have slept in late this morning, would not have felt as energized, and I probably would not have celebrated my mind and body like I did when I was moving around my living room. I would much rather have the morning I am experiencing now than the fun and exciting energy of last night and the feeling of despair this morning. However, most of the time I don’t make the choice that I did last night. I mainly choose to go out and be hungover the next morning, and I always feel horrible about it. This is all because I’ve been told that I won’t make friends or enjoy life if I don’t participate in that lifestyle. 

I think and hope that I am beginning to build strength in knowing and doing what’s best for me, and doing what I want to do. I love to learn and explore ideas. It’s not always easy to find curious minds to discuss ideas with. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that, and I have had great practice talking about things I didn’t really know about or that I’m not too interested in. However, when most of the people in the room are talking about something, I often feel like I don’t have a lot to add; I am listening and digesting what they’re saying and then every once in a while I will share a thought. When no one is talking and I try to start a conversation about something I find fascinating, the room often falls silent. I’m glad that I’ve had practice adapting to different social situations, but at the same time, I haven’t really fueled my curiosity or filled my cup through conversation in the last six months with the people I’ve met; I fill that cup by researching things on my own, reading, watching fascinating YouTube videos, and meditating.

Morning of March 28, 2022

I think my social experiences this past weekend play nicely into the theme I’ve been discussing above. I was in a ski cabin with seven other people. There was one evening, the second evening we were there, where I felt like I didn’t want to participate in the conversation. At first it felt like I wasn’t interested in the things they were talking about. I told myself that even if this is true, I can still try to enjoy it and be present in the conversation and listen. I didn’t force myself to participate, I only spoke up when I felt a genuine urge to do so, and I found that people received what I said well. I don’t want to have to try to be someone else; I don’t want to say things that feel unnatural. Later on that evening in the ski town, we were at a very busy bar. This is the type of environment I might be comparing myself to others socially, which causes an uneasy feeling. I told myself it’s okay to not constantly engage in conversation; it’s okay to sit, drink my beer, and watch my friends play their pool game. When I took this approach I found that I still talked to people, but this time I felt loose and natural about it. I wasn’t doing it because I felt like I had to - I hate doing things because I feel like I have to. I was feeling introspective and I genuinely enjoyed experiencing that environment from a quiet and observant perspective; taking it in, enjoying the energy and company. 

However, my friends saw that I was alone and they tried to get me to talk to strangers. I appreciated this because it shows that they care about me and they want me to make friends and have fun. I explained that at that moment, I didn’t feel the desire to strike up a conversation, but rather observe the environment quietly and engage in conversation when it felt right. They understood. I felt good about my approach and experience at the bars last night, however, the one thing cutting into my vibe was the anxiety I felt whenever I considered what my parents and my girlfriend would think of me: I worry about what my parents would think because I grew up a very social person and spoke to anyone. I like to think that my lack of words used now is not a result of social anxiety or discomfort, but rather a goal of mine to say more with fewer words and be more calculated and intentional in my speech. Furthermore, I worry about what my girlfriend would think of me because she is the type of person who can talk to anyone about anything. I don’t want her to think of me as antisocial. I hope that she doesn’t look at me as such (she said she doesn't think that) and I try to tell myself to trust her not to judge me in that way - I hope I can trust her to understand that I am present, listening, engaged, and thoughtful even when I’m not talking. I wish I could stop worrying about it. I feel like if I am strong and confident in my approach, then people will pick up on that. In fact, some people I’ve spoken to said that although I come off as quiet and “soft-spoken”, they can see that I’m a good person once the conversation gets going. And I am fine with that. 

[inwintersolitude]

- May 25th 2023 -

What colour are the sheets on your bed? Ivory.

Have you ever had a storage locker? If so, what is/was stored in it? Nope.

Do you have a gas, electric or induction cooktop? Gas.

Are you interested in plants? Somewhat.

How far away is the nearest capital city? The nearest state capital is Columbus, a little over 100 miles away. The nearest national capital is Washington D.C., about 300 miles away.

What was the last movie trailer you watched? I think it was for Oppenheimer.

What's your favourite meal of the day? I love breakfast, just because I love pretty much all breakfast foods. But I also like dinner because of the endless possibilities and I enjoy cooking dinner foods the most.

Do you know your neighbours? A little bit. Not super well though.

Tell me all your plans for the next week or so. I don't have anything going on today. Tomorrow my husband and I are going to go to a nearby garden center to get plants for the front porch. Sunday - a Memorial Day cookout at my aunt-in-law and uncle-in-law's house with all their relatives. Monday - another Memorial Day cookout, at my brother and sister-in-law's house. And I have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday.

What can you hear and smell right now? I can hear a Mozart string quartet playing on the local classical radio station, and also my birds chirping and playing with their toys. I can't really smell anything.

Are you expecting anything in the mail? Nothing in particular.

Do you hate cars with loud exhausts? YES, oh my god I cannot overstate just how much I LOATHE that. It's so incredibly obnoxious to subject others to that level of noise. There's technically a state law that limits how many decibels a passenger vehicle can produce, and I wish it was actually enforced.

How many roommates have you had? I've never lived with roommates.

Have you ever broken any bones in your feet or hands? Yep, those are the only types of bones I've broken. One finger, and one toe.

Do you keep your house tidy or is it always pretty cluttered? It's usually tidy-ish, but it gets a little cluttered if I'm busy or stressed.

What's the altitude of your town or city? About 1,000 feet.

Do you like movies with vampires in them? I haven't seen many vampire movies. Can't say I'm super interested.

Have you ever bought groceries online? Yep I did online orders with curbside pickup from the start of Covid until I was vaccinated in May 2021 - both my husband and I were staying super isolated because I couldn't risk getting sick. And I've also had some grocery items that I've bought online via specialty shops and had shipped to my house.

If you have a pet, what is its favourite treat? If you don't have a pet, what's one of your favourite treats? :) They both go bonkers for millet.

Do you own any items of clothing that were originally borrowed from someone else? Yes, if you'd count a few t-shirts, boxers, and sweaters that were originally my husband's. I started borrowing them and they slowly became more mine than his, haha.

What was the last thing you drank other than water, and was it yummy? Carrot/orange/turmeric juice. It was tasty.

How do you usually style your hair? I don't really style it beyond running a straightening brush through it to de-poof it. I'm terrible at trying to do any kind of styling beyond just simple straightening or throwing it up into a ponytail.

What's your favourite kind of soup to make? White bean and vegetable soup, or shoyu ramen.

Do you get distracted easily when you read? Yep. It sucks. I used to be an extremely avid and focused reader when I was a kid/teen, I'd read entire novels in less than a day, but for some reason I just don't have that same level of focus now.

What kind of questions do you generally dislike when it comes to Bzoink surveys? Surveys with only basic questions, like name/age/favorites/this-or-that/etc. I'm also not really into the ones that hyperfocus on health stuff or music, or the “put an X if you agree with this statement” ones.

What will you do after you finish this survey? I'll probably go upstairs to brush my teeth and do my morning skincare routine, and bring some laundry back downstairs and start a load. I also feel like I'll need a nap soon, I'm feeling kind of woozy.

If you play The Sims, which of all the games is your favourite iteration? I've only played it once or twice, like 9-10 years ago. I don't remember which specific version it was.

Do you remember the first house you lived in? Nope, we moved out of that house when I was only 6 months old.

When was the last time you threw up, and do you know why? I can't remember for sure. Maybe like 6-ish years ago? I think I had a mild stomach bug.

Who was the last person you said "I love you" to? My husband.

[good-witch-luz]

i hope there isn’t a character limit on tumblr…

The Owl House, Season 1 Episode 17: Wing It Like Witches

This episode opens with a very iconic Boscha quote, “Hello Hexside, your Star has arrived!” Then this episode immediately shows us willow and her newfound confidence and popularity. Willow’s flower barrette is repeatedly used to symbolize this confidence, but that doesn’t become relevant until later. When Luz gets dropped off at Hexside, we get some brand new Eda lore, she was the star player of her grudgby team! This is later elaborated on, and we get a new young eda picture, and in my personal opinion, those are the highlights of the show. Another important thing in this particular scene is Luz saying quote, “can’t reason with crazy.” This is paralleled in Hollow Mind by EMPEROR BELOS. This episode also clearly sets up something that I personally never got, and that is everyone’s admiration for Boscha. I suppose it’s because she’s the captain of the grudgby team but she’s such a bitch. This episode also sets up a lot of early lumity moments and it’s so adorable. There are several lumity quotes in here that I will now be dedicating a segment for. “Oh, Luz, you’re here. I mean, obviously you’re here, this is school, and you go here now, with me. I’ve been talking for too long.” “-Amity we need your help.” “-Yes. I can help! With.. what exactly?” “Oh wow.. Sports” “Me? On a team with you? Running around in cute uniforms? Sweating?? I gotta go.” “She can be so stupid, which I love. I mean hate! In any case, she needs you right now, which is sweet. I mean, I hate it, and it’s dumb.”

This chapter also brilliantly displays Luz’s naivety and childlike optimism and how they can ultimately hurt people even when she’s trying to help people. For example, when Luz challenges Boscha to a grudgby match on behalf of Willow, without consulting her first. Immediately following this scene, we come back to the owl house, and here some new Lillith lore is dropped! How exciting! Lilith was a grudgby CHAMPION. Back to hexside, this scene features an absolute banger of a joke from Boscha “Maybe It’s the altitude of the second floor, but I thought I heard Willow challenge me to a grudgby match.” Underrated as all get out. Later in this scene, another Good Witch Azura parallel is made between Luz + Friends and “Good Witch Azura 2: The Field of Deadly Fates” Immediately following the best montage ever, Luz attempts the thorn vault, and horribly hurts all of her friends. Not physically, but emotionally, and she damages their things. When Willow's barrette breaks, it’s symbolism for her confidence breaking down. It’s so so sad. Hard on the heels of this event, Luz gets hit with a difficult pill to swallow “Not everything can be solved with a good attitude and a dope music soundtrack.” After this, we come to a very important scene, the beginning of Eda and Lilith’s grudgby match! The B plot of this episode serves as a very important sibling bonding and relationship set-up for Eda and Lilith. Also we learn that Lilith was grudgby team captain?!?! Following this tidbit, we learn that Amity was once grudgby team captain, as a preamble to Boscha, and she stepped down after attempting,,, *GASP* THE THORN VAULT!?!?! After Boscha throws FIREBALLS at Luz, Amity manages to re-recruit Gus and Willow to do the grudgby match again. And then Eda and Lilith have one of the sweetest moments in the show.. “I will be back for you. And next time, i won’t be alone.” “I’ll be waiting..” This episode also includes that like, png basic sprite you see everytime you google Amity and I think that’s hilarious. Another thing that makes this episode so impactful and important, is that Luz learns the fire glyph from Boscha’s grudgby ball! The underdogs win this match (in spirit) via a thorn vault, *GASP* CALL BACK!! Lastly, this episode provides us with cheerleader king! Ugh!! Concluding thoughts: I have never had more fun commentating on something in my entire life. I love this episode with my entire heart + my bile sac.

[mrsmarlasinger]

ULTIMATE FANTASY:

It's summer. I have a week to myself in my parents' house—maybe two. No one is home at all. I have no work, no responsibilities. Nobody nags me about not eating all day. I read and write and draw and dance and watch movies and go for walks and play Minecraft and Sims and listen to music as loud as I want, and sing along, too. My meal for the day is always breakfast or dinner; I cook for myself. There is no one around when I'm eating or cooking. Every day one of my favorite YouTubers posts a long video to watch while I eat. There's a usable public transportation system, so I can go buy a special meal if I want, or go on my own little outings. Nobody talks to me and everyone leaves me alone. I spend most of the week stone-sober but know I can trip or take an edible if I want. I can sit on the back porch at sunset with a joint and a beer or kava or a margarita or nothing at all, just me and a book and an iced glass of cherry-flavored sparkling water. And I'm by myself. And no one bothers me. And I go for long long walks through the forest with Radiohead in my earbuds. And there are no dog walkers or joggers to tell me good morning. And I take obscenely long showers and baths, and the water is always the perfect temperature. And I never have to do anything or go anywhere or talk to anyone, and I bake a carrot cake that doesn't fall despite the altitude, and every night is clear and starry, and every sunset I see is the most beautiful one I've ever witnessed.