#College of Rock-n-Roll Knowledge

[eddiestar]

Rock around the Christmas Tree with this twenty-one song playlist curated by Eddie Star. Spotify :   https://spoti.fi/3VlVT12 Youtube Music : https://bit.ly/3GiFFkU

[ughkat]

focus on me | l.r.h

part one

tutor!luke au

your college professor assigns you to an unexpected tutor for your music class. ❥

overall story cw: smut, fluff, tutor x student

wordcount : 1131

-

Soft rock played through my headphone's as I took in the unfamiliar sights around me. It was my second week at my dream college in Los Angeles, but I had yet to make myself at home. I swiftly guided my way down sidewalks with my head down, and towards a building labeled "Music" and "Theater", the building containing my next subject.

My school counselor aided me to join a special elective or extracurricular for more credits, my options being an extra math class, or a music class. I went with what I thought was the easiest choice, choosing to not subject myself to extra math. Not that I had anymore interest in playing an instrument.

Within seconds of entering my class, my professor quietly beckoned me. I let out a heavy sigh, knowing he was going to mention my work ethic in his class.

"How's your morning going?" He spoke respectfully, not looking at me while he sipped a coffee. I took a seat at a small stool beside his desk.

"Fine." I smiled with a nod.

"I've noticed you're struggling a bit in here. Have you been practicing out of class?" He questioned.

"Uhm. A little, here and there. I get busy with my other classes." I tried my best to create an excuse for my lack of passion for guitar. My professor let out a quiet "Hm." before turning his chair towards me.

"A past student of mine is a tutor, every fall he comes back down here to help out my students." he began, "I think you would benefit greatly from his knowledge." I mentally rolled my eyes at the thought of someone tutoring me about something I had no drive to expand my knowledge on.

"I think I'll be okay." I spoke kindly. My professor let out a small chuckle.

"Y/n, I wasn't so much asking you as I was informing you." He spoke slowly. "You will continue losing credits if you keep up the work you're doing." I looked at him with frustration.

"So I have no choice?" I sighed.

"I'm sorry, I just want you to succeed, and

Luke is an amazing tutor." I stood up from the chair at took my assigned seat, dwelling on the idea of being taught guitar by a stranger for the rest of class.

"Y/n!" I heard a cheerful shout ahead of me.

I looked up from the floor as I exited the music building, and was met with the face of my best friend, Leah.

"Hey." I spoke flatly. Leah frowned.

"What's the matter with you?" We continued our way towards the courtyard for lunch, dodging the rush of students in our path.

"I have to have a tutor for my stupid guitar class." I began, "I don't even wanna be in that class."

"Have you met the tutor yet? Maybe it'll be fun?" Leah spoke with optimism.

"Not yet. He used to go here though, his name's Luke, I guess." I muttered. Leah stopped in her tracks, turning to me slowly.

"Luke what?" She questioned. I shrugged, confused to why his last name was so important to her.

"I don't know, I didn't ask." I mumbled.

"Find out and let me know." I raised an eyebrow at my friends eagerness as we arrived to the courtyard.

2:00

I swiftly finished my day, my music and sketchbooks helping the minutes pass. As I made my way towards my dorm, I had accidentally brushed shoulders with a faceless figure. Before I could see their face, they were paces behind me. He was tall, really tall. His hair had a slight sandy blond curl to it, and he walked with grace, but with a purpose.

Thinking nothing of it, I continued to my dorm.

I tossed my black tote bag onto my bed, myself following shortly after. I let out a sigh as I bent down to unlace my converse, kicking them off of my tired feet.

The burdening thought of my mystery tutor ached my head, I began to feel my mood slowly decline. Why should I have to put effort into something I have genuinely no interest in? And why is it my fault when I do bad in that subject? I reached for my phone and saw a text from Leah.

"Can I come to your room? I'm boreddd."

I giggled at the message before giving her a yes, beginning to tidy up the small space.

My roommate mysteriously disappeared after the first three days of school—by disappearing I mean she dropped out, and none of us are really allowed to talk about it—, leaving me with the dorm to myself. I thought I would appreciate the alone time, but I find myself wishing I had more company. I did my best to decorate the dull room with posters and plants, and some decorations from home.

Three simple knocks landed in my door, I sat up from my seat to let my friend in.

"Can you please elaborate why you need to know my tutor so desperately?" I laughed as we took our seats on my bed.

"It's so dumb, honestly." She began, shaking her head with a giggle, "I guess there was a boy in one of the music classes last year named Luke, and everyone I know says he's like, outrageously hot or something." She explained. I raised my eyebrow and laughed.

"Well, he can't be the only Luke in this school. It's probably not the same kid." I shrugged.

"Hopefully it is. I've heard every girl who tried to ask him out got rejected." Leah dramatically widened her eyes.

"Whatever." I giggled.

We spent the after noon and early evening gossiping about professors, new students, and my mystery tutor.

5:30

After Leah's departure, I stared blankly at the guitar in its case across the room from me. I huffed before getting up and grabbing it from its enclosure, taking my seat again.

I plucked cluelessly, unsure of where to even begin. I placed my fingers to where I thought I remembered was a C chord, and hesitantly strummed down. The guitar emitted a strenuous tune, causing my face to scrunch. I tried once more, readjusting my fingers and strumming again.

"Ugh!" I groaned, shoving the guitar to the side of me. I was aware of my own impatience, but was too prideful to admit that it was my own lack of motivation to practice that was causing it to sound bad, and not the guitar itself. I began to think to myself, maybe a tutor wouldn't hurt? The faster I get help with the tutor and do the bare minimum, the faster I can leave the class.

I laid on my back in my bed, soaking in my own boredom.

[jacevelaryonswife]

ㅤㅤ Why’d you only call me when you high? | part IV

so sorry for the delay to update, I was really out of creativity to write this, but I'm more excited now, I hope you like it.

∴ pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

why’d you only call me when you high?

Finding yourself slumped on the couch a week after your peculiar day with Aegon, you pondered an important matter: getting out. Saturday is your favorite day of the week, it's quiet enough for rest and too lively for a night out. You're not one for frequent parties and going out, but you wanted to take advantage of the period before college exams and papers arrived, so an avid battle was being waged in your mind about going out or not. Another important point about you: going out alone at night was never an option. You needed to be in someone's company to feel safe, so the options start swirling in your head until your phone screen lights up.

“are you on, babe? 😏”

Interesting.

Typing quickly, you replied:

“I need a partner, are you out tonight?”

“for you? always :)”

What about Aegon Targaryen?

Well, things were going remarkably well. A week ago the two of you were talking playfully about anything, no specifics, just ANYTHING. He was incredibly funny — as well as an incomparable flirt, but that's public knowledge — and he had really good memes. Come on, are you really complimenting a frat boy? Yes. Aegon is the bitch who sent you a dick pic when you said you were bored (not bad at all) and kept endearing you in a way. Since he wanted to be your friend, then why not test him?

“Have you ever been to rock 'n ribbs? I immediately need to breathe the air of that place.”

“I've never actually been but I've always been interested in going in, the facade is so cool.”

“It's SUPER cool! If you want to go with me, I want to accept the company.”

“I want 😏”

“So it's a date.”

It's a date... oh fuck. Why did you say that?

“Force of habit, sorry.”

“it’s okay babe.”

It wasn't force of habit, no it wasn't, you didn't used to say that and it scared both of you a little. You would have a date with Aegon Targaryen, the Aegon Targaryen, fuckboy, blonde, rich and stupid. It sounded crazy actually. He was known for not staying with the same girl for very long. But this was different, you don't want to be his girl, just a friend... or just fuck buddies. And what about Aegon? He couldn't stop thinking about you. It was almost scary, actually. The differences between you two were funny and visible, you were a responsible girl who was building a successful destiny, while he didn't have to care about that and any other shit, he was rich. But that didn't completely make it impossible for you to live together or anything else.

Anything else? You were amazing, smart, beautiful, and you fucked like a tigress. Fuck, he really fantasized about something else. A beautiful girl to show off to your friends and family. However, how hard would it be to make you fall in love with him? Was it love at first sex? He thought it wouldn't work on him. But here he was grinning as he watched you walk out of the apartment towards the luxuriously scandalous Ferrari, his baby, his darling Sunfyre.

“Hey pretty, ready to show me a good time?” he asked as he discarded the rest of the watermelon cigarette out the window.

“Take me out to dinner first, perv,” you replied humorously, putting on the bell as he synced to Spotify.

"I intend and hope your suggestion is indeed good, princess," he commented with a wink, placing his hand on your leg. Your eyes rolled back as huff came out of you, making him smirk. “You know Sunfyre don't you? But I don't think they were properly introduced."

"Who? Your car? Did you name your car?”

“Yeah, what's not to name this beauty?

“You know, if I didn't met you I'd say you were a pimp, your car is like one, but it's quite comfortable,” you said as you snuggled into the seat.

“Come on, it's not a pimp car, fuck off”, he complained indignantly, making you laugh out loud. “It is the most beautiful car you will ever see in your life.”

"I'm not saying it's done, just that it reeks of prostitution."

"Yeah, he's seen a lot of who-”

“I really don't want to know about this.”

“As you wish, ma'am, but don't worry, after you that car won't see but one bitch”, he flashed a smile before seeing your eyes narrow. “I didn't mean to call you a bitch, oh fuck, that was bad, wasn't it?”

"Terrible. Probably the worst thing I've heard”, the last part was an exaggeration, but yeah, it sucked — not that you'd expect anything different actually, Aegon was good at fucking women not being a great romantic.

“Sorry babe, I'm new to this business”, he withdrew his hand from your leg to scratch the back of his neck, putting again on your leg to strengthen the touch.

“If you didn't tell me I wouldn't guess,” your tone was a little bitter, which made him wince, but in the best possible way. He wouldn't tell you now but he loved it when your sharp tongue cut him like that.

“Well, you asked me on a date, so…” he teased, giving your leg a light squeeze.

"I didn't ask you out on a date, it was force of habit!" You snapped.

“Fuck off, ass,” you pinched his hand, knocking it off your leg.

“I know you're a good girl baby, that's why I'm in love with you. And your nice ass too, since you brought it up,” he remarked casually, looking at you sideways. It wasn't a lie, the motherfucker couldn't stop thinking about you and your ass.

“Again this matter? I already told you that you're not in love with me”, you rolled your eyes, looking at him with boredom.

“Of course I am, you're beautiful, sexy and smart, my mother would love to meet you”, that wasn’t also a lie, Alicent would easily approve of a girl like you and would probably hope that you would fix her eldest son, but that wasn't your job after all.

"I bet you say that to every girl you take out, don't you?"

“I didn't tell you that.”

“You just said.”

"But I didn't say before."

“Because you didn’t ask me out.”

"Fair."

After a few seconds, you interrupted the next thing he had to say — probably about being in love or about your hot body. “So what made you do architecture? It's a really nice area.”

Aegon shifted his gaze to the lane quickly, keeping it there as he replied, “I never knew what to do, so I took a chance. It's really hard to choose a path when you already have everything, I know, I know, I? A conscious person? Yeah, but it was either that or working at my family's business and there's no way that was going to happen, they're fucking crazy. And you? What made you choose your field?”

A small smile graced your lips, looking at the brightly lit city around him. “I also never knew what I wanted to be, I changed my decision every month and I could never find something that fully fulfilled me, or a great aspiration, so I decided to try the first thing that came along. I like what I do, so much so that I'm going to try for a master's degree after I finish the course, but I would have liked to have had the chance to know more about myself before making the choice.”

“I know that feeling,” he said. “I never fit in or saw myself in something, unlike my brothers who were born with exactly one purpose and are very good at what they do. So I just tried it, you know?”

"Yes, I know."

The comfortable silence that lingered between you was interrupted by their arrival at the bar. Now more than ever you felt like a whore by the way some men looked at Sunf- Aegon's car. He was quick to place a hand on your waist with a smug smile on his face as he guided you to the attendant. The place was divided into an external and an internal environment, the view from the outside was magnificent, but the inside was electrifying, with beautiful guitars hanging on the wall and a modern decoration linked to rock music.

“I said it was cool,” you whispered close to his ear.

“I never doubted, love. Now, how would you like to spend the whole night with me?” He took your hand, quickly turning his back to the others as you guided him to the table.

“If you can get me to stay, then it's a deal.”

“I love betting, you know, you already lost that one.”

“I really hate how cocky you are,” you said after sitting down across the table from him.

“No, you definitely like it, just how I like it when you're mean.”

You let out a nasal laugh when he winked, taking the opportunity to nudge his thigh with your foot. “Does Aegon Targaryen like to be put in his place? Interesting."

Oh fuck. He licked his lips with a smirk. “Just for you, love.”

It will be a long night indeed.

tag list: @pearlstiare @f4ll-for-you @fan-goddess @graykageyama

[carnal-lnstinct]

HII if you’re still open for requests i just finished this semester’s finals can i get some fluffy praise and worship from Raditz for this tired af college student 😹 sfw or nsfw up to you 👌🏾

RADITZ X READER

☆☆ Content: ( au, fluff, praise, size difference, pining ) ☆☆ Warning: ( M / 18+. MINORS DNI. explicit language )

☆☆ A/N: sfw is for yellowbellies! (joke) put that old man in a sex-tuation

You flopped yourself into the mass of black spiky hair and lightly bounced off the solid muscles hidden beneath. The most relieved you have felt all week. Having found your way to him from your work desk, it was all you could muster from the long week of finals. Hitting “submit” on your final term paper, you finally allowed all of the stress and exertion of the last few days take you and sought out solace from your lover. You let out a weary sigh into his back and feel the tug on his mane as he tried to look over his shoulder at you.

You hear him snort, a quiet laugh at the way you sank against his back. An agreement that you’ve had enough of those tests. Raditz could do nothing but observe you throughout the week coming and going to your classes, then disappearing into your little home office to study and sigh and tap away at your “tiny console” until your eyes were heavy and dry.

“All done now?” He speaks up, tilting his head further in an attempt to look at you. His tail makes itself known when it brushes against you. "Did you pass?"

You squish your cheek into his upper back and pout. "I don't care." Wearily left your lips as you sigh again. You were just happy to be done with it for now. Raditz’s brow arches at your response and gives a thoughtful hum in acknowledgement. His right hand comes over his left shoulder for you.

"Come here." He encourages. Insisted, really. You take it and he guides you around him. Releasing your hand he uses the same arm to swiftly scoop you up against his side and carry you off to the nearby couch where he left the tv running. You find yourself in his lap as he sits, your back now up against his protruding chest and his tail resting across your thighs. "You know you did."

"I don't yet." You answered in a mutter. The whole thing was just an expectation you didn’t want on your overstimulated nerves right now. With a moment to catch your breath, it was better not to think about it. But the saiyan wouldn’t let up from the topic just yet.

"After all of that, you assume otherwise?"

"...No, but-"

"-Then you passed. There's no reason to doubt now." A crooked, yet playful grin rises in his features and a large hand pets the top of your head, affectionately rocking it from side to side until you shake him off.

"You're just saying that." You rolled your eyes, giving his hand a swat so you could lie back against his chest. Undeterred, Raditz then cups your chin, your cheeks squished between his rough thumb and fingers giving your head a light tilt toward him.

"Tch, Because you're acting like you're afraid to admit it." He insisted with a more profound smirk, a sense of pride in his eyes looking down at you that now overshadowed his prior teasing. "The worst thing you could do was not do it at all, you need to remember that. Now you can take pride in knowing you bested it!" Raditz boasted on your behalf, giving your efforts the praise it deserved in the end. Even he knew a sharp wit was worthy of some acclaim. All the limits you pushed yourself to with the knowledge you’ve gained to finally triumph your “exam labors” as he referred to it had to have some ego under your exhaustion. And he would happily remind you.  "Now be a good girl. Worry about the little things later."

 Looking up at him, you can see his thick brows lift over his eyes as his expression lightens up watching you soak in his words. He loosened his grip on your chin and stroked it with his knuckle instead.

 To be where you are now at the end of the semester, everything else did feel like a blur of deadlines and cramming black and white words from a screen. The load was lifted off of your mind with only your final grade to review when it came in. Then all is said and done until next semester rolls around. Raditz stood by celebrating this as opposed to seeing it as just another boulder up the hill as you had internalized in these last few weeks.

 He may not fully grasp the full expectations of the human educational process, but he’s been helpful to you. Even when he’s simply looming by you waiting for your attention, whether impatiently pining for the chance to fuck you silly or trying to distract you. He knows your schedule and tried to keep you on it each day as you forced yourself to study to the last minute. He flies faster than any vehicle you own and got you to every campus class when you overslept, and rushed you back home hoping you’d spare the extra time you had with him.

 You thoughtfully lower your eyes with a soft bite on your lip. Then, you let a deep breath drain the remnants of your stress away, leaving a soft smile in your lips. "Thanks, babe." You finally answer him, placing your smaller hand over his with a charmed twinkle in your eyes.

He’s been waiting to see that smile. His other arm pulls you further into lap as you settle back against his chest and he lets you have that moment of peace you sought as his thumb idly stroked your jaw. Literally, counting down the minutes until his hand slips around your jaw again, this affection but firm grip forcing you to tilt your head back as he leans over you.

“Now that you’re finished, you owe me for blowing me off all week.” He spoke in a rigid, low tone, indicating his frustration of not having you when he wanted. A blend of his neglected desires and his annoyance over it made his voice low, darkening his natural rasp. “You're all mine again…”

The rough sound in his voice made it clear you were in trouble, but it never failed to excite you either and helped you find your second wind for the evening. Evident in the flutter of your heart in your chest when his other arm left your waist and forced down your bottoms to completely expose you.

“Why do you insist on testing my patience knowing what I’ll do.” He seemed to scold you, the best way he could express himself over things he genuinely cared for. You’ve been able to see through his harshness and knew it wasn’t really about just having sex with you, but it was the only way he wanted to show his feelings right now. You both deserve it, really. The way he cradled your head in place gave you a view of him shaking your panties free of your lower dressing and clutching them possessively in his fist. You watched as his eyes darkened in his intrigue at the delicate fabric and brought it up to his face, first burying his nose in it to take in the scent he’s been starved of. Then his tongue dragged against the fabric where it consumed his senses the most, the tip of his tail starting to thump against your bare thigh. His actions reminded you of an animal, nothing he does really surprises you anymore. Moreover, it captivated your attention to see the raw side of an alien man discover his fascinations.

That’s when his other hand left your face and stretched out the collar of your top as he seized one of your breasts with an equally possessive squeeze. The hitch in your breath was enough to take his attention away from the panties and let it fall from his hands. Raditz wets the tip of his fingers on his tongue. Even with his impromptu lube, the roughness of his fingers isn’t lost on you when he starts to stroke them across your clit, his tail now wrapped around one of your thighs to help with holding your legs apart. The way you arched into his touch made him chuckle to himself, toying with your nipples one at a time and soaking your bloom to slick his own fingers until he could easily bury two of them inside.

The stretch stole your breath, making you grip on his wrist as if to hold onto the last of your composure in the intensity of the warmth his touch gave you. Naturally, your legs opened further to embrace the pleasure until he sought to feel you completely fall apart under the thrust of his fingers, his tail, then, was the only thing holding your legs from clenching around his hand.

He didn’t spend too much longer simply playing with you, removing his slick fingers to replace it with his thick cock. He’s been aching to feel you around it, loving the way you fit him. Almost like a glove had he not have to be mindful of how fragile humans were compared to a saiyan’s endurance. Oh, but those instances that you do and your eyes roll into the back of your head would send him into a frenzy fit for an Oozaru. The worship he carried for you being so ripe with lust and able to take all of his cock. He needed this to be one of those exceptions, so he continued to feed you inches of girth while he tended to your sensitive clit to help you along the way.

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 3

Episode 10: Space Invaders Part 1

~In the Man Cave~

Swellview was known for a lot of things: a terrible police force, some awesome superheroes and more supervillains than the mayor knew what to do with. But one thing that was not common knowledge was that it had a rather talented astronaut currently circling the Earth high above the city's tallest skyscrapers.

Well, it was widely known now because of the "tragedy". Jim Dickie, the hotshot astronaut and his buddy, Neil, had been taken hostage on their space station and since the Earth's upper atmosphere fell out of the Swellview cops' jurisdiction, Captain Man had taken it upon himself to bring back his town's hero. And Miss Danger was just as patriotic, just less thrilled about how they were gonna be getting there.

"What kind of maniac holds two astronauts captive?" (y/n) asked her boyfriend as they jogged down from the sprocket. They needed to use the supercomputer and even if it meant they had to roll out of each other's arms and exit the comfort of their bedroom, they were gonna make contact with Henry.

"I don't know, but we need to get Henry here and fast," Ray replied and strolled up to the holo-caller, his large fingers immediately punching in the digits he needed for his sidekick's whiz watch. They couldn't go into space Kid Danger-less and no matter what he was doing, he had to drop it and get to the Man Cave ASAP.

"Ray!" Henry's little floating figure appeared in front of them after a few seconds of waiting. The boy hated that he had to lie to his family every time he had to take a call, but duty calls.

"Henry! There's an emergency in spac--are you wearing a Fred Lobster shirt?" The pressing task at hand was swiftly out of the window for Ray as he took notice of the odd choice of shirt Henry was wearing. It was weird to wear something that promoted a seafood restaurant, but he rocked it anyway because it was for Piper and some dumb commercial she had landed a role in.

"Uh, yeah." Henry smiled, looking down briefly to catch a glimpse of the lobster mascot smiling back at him.

"Why?" (y/n) questioned, unable to help her curiosity at Henry's fashion lapse. She knew Jim and Neil were in danger or whatever, but the longer they took, the more time she had before literally rocketing off-world. Plus, it also gave Ray a little more time to slide his hand into the back pocket of her jeans, a move that she'd chastise him for later, but deep down, she secretly loved.

"'Cause, my sister's in a Fred Lobster commercial, so I bought this shirt, but--" The kid started to explain, but then Ray's sense of urgency crept up on him and forced the superhero to butt in. 

"All right, look. There's no time to talk about your shirt!" He snapped, making Henry frown. Geez, he was in a crabby mood, no seafood pun intended. 

"But--But (y/n) asked me." He stuttered, baffled at how Ray could go from fascinated to bossy in point two seconds, especially since he had his girlfriend next to him. She usually mellowed him out.

"We have an emergency! Guess where we're goin'?" Ray smirked at his sidekick through the hologram and (y/n) gulped at the idea. She wasn't a baby and she'd been on crazy flights before, but outer space seemed so daunting. How did the mousy college student turn into a crime-fighting, space-visiting superhero?

"To space?" Henry gasped, the thrilled smile growing on his face by the second. This was huge, space was, like, the dream destination for any kid who loved adventure and adrenaline as he did. If he could brag about this, he so would. Henry Hart, the boy in space, now that had a good ring to it.

"Not just space, Hen. Outer space, like you know, space that's outer." (y/n) giggled nervously, trying to be braver than she felt. 'Just breathe, Ray will be with you.' She breathed to herself and tried to remember that this wasn't a suicide mission or anything. They were coming back...hopefully.

"Wait, how are we gonna get to outer space?--" Henry asked, but once again, Ray "I can't focus for more than two minutes" Manchester was off on a tangent. 

"Y'know, (y/n) and I were in a Fred Lobster last week, and they told me they didn't have those shirts anymore," Ray mentioned, making the young woman next to him groan. It was true; they did go to Fred Lobster last week, for an actual date that didn't involve Drill Finger and psychotic teenagers. It was a lovely evening, just the two of them and it was all going smoothly until Ray asked for the bill and...he started an argument about lobster t-shirts. Typical Manchester move.

"Not this again..." She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. It was just a damn shirt and yes, he would look super hot wearing one and yes, the seams would probably pop as they tried to stretch over his biceps, but was it worth more bickering? No.

"Uh, yeah. I had to order this one online--" Henry just couldn't catch a break today. Another interruption from Ray meant his sentence was cut off again and he was starting to get cheesed off. 

"Oh, so, you really wanna talk about lobster shirts while astronauts are in danger?" Ray scoffed, trying to build up an argument, but his pettiness outshone anything he was trying to say. He was in a really grouchy mood, probably because he had to stop cuddling his sweet girl earlier than he would've liked.

"You really wanna talk to me with your hand on your girlfriend's butt?" Henry bit back, causing his boss to pull his hand out of (y/n)'s back pocket like he'd been burnt. It was a good comeback and the blush that covered Ray's cheeks made (y/n)'s embarrassment worth it. 

"Henry Prudence Hart! You little...just get to the Man Cave!" (y/n) squealed, feeling all flustered since she hadn't known the kid could see. If she had known, the hand squeezing her ass would've been given a sharp smack straight away.

"How do you know my middle name?" It was Henry's turn to blush. His second name was a sore point for him and it killed him that (y/n) had sneakily discovered it behind his back. She'd have to thank Charlotte later.

"Fast!" The young woman replied curtly, pointing a stern finger at the boy who thought he had the upper hand. It was never a good idea to try and outwit her.

"Okay, I'm on my way." Henry sighed and snapped his watch shut. He got the feeling that he'd been beaten, even if it was amusing to see Ray lightly fan his still scarlet cheeks. He never cared if Schwoz saw him like that, the little guy normally just scuttled off when he was making a move on his girl, but in his mind, Henry was still the cute little kid from two years ago. He was so innocent and cute, even though he was on the verge of becoming an adult.

"Y'see? That's why you don't put your hand on my ass when other people are around!" (y/n) scolded her boyfriend as soon as the pixelated Henry disappeared from the computer. Here came the chastisement, not that Ray was scared, she was so cute when her nose screwed up in anger.

"But I love your sweet, little heinie." He smirked and brought his hand back down and around her waist so it could slide to her butt. The blush rose from her neck and the words died in her throat, making him chuckle in amusement. There was that little nose wrinkle he adored.

"Yeah, well, Henry and Charlotte will be here soon, so it better be gone by the time they get here!" She told him, her voice wobbling slightly as he rotated his body so he was facing her completely and then another large palm came to rest on the other cheek. 

"We've got, like, twenty minutes and we got outta bed way too early." He mumbled, leaning down to capture her lips with his. Maybe his mood would perk up a bit after this.

~

Well, the peace didn't last long. Charlotte was speedier than usual, meaning the couple had mere moments to catch their breaths and shrug their scattered clothing back on. Still, it would do for them and at least Ray had stopped his pouting.

"Happy now?" (y/n) giggled and wiped her sticky forehead with the back of her hand. He was insatiable, not that she was complaining because this was what she'd been dreaming about for eight years. Giggly, midday sex with the hottest man she'd ever met.

"Very, sweet girl." Ray breathed out and pressed a kiss to her forehead after he'd zipped up his hoodie again. Their clothes were a little rumpled, but with a bit of luck, no one would be able to suspect a thing, not when they were hunting for an insufferable little rat known as Schwoz. Yep, Schwoz.

The guy was key for Ray's big plans for getting into outer space because he owned a rocket. Yeah, a rocket; some technical wizardry that would send the three superheroes into outer space and get them to where they needed to be. There were a few wrinkles that needed to be ironed out, mainly that the shuttle had enough space for two people (a small hiccup, easily rectified) and that Schwoz wouldn't give Ray the damn key.

Okay, it wasn't called "Schwoz's rocket" or "Schwoz's spaceship", it was known as "the love shuttle" because its sole purpose was to take Schwoz and his future bride-to-be off on a jolly honeymoon in space. Not that there would ever be a Mrs Schwartz, Schwoz could never get a girl to. look at him twice and him withholding the key was driving Ray insane. 

"Schwoz...I can see you." Ray called out to his handyman as he and (y/n) crept down the sprocket stairs. The little man had caught wind of Ray's plan to use his honeymoon transportation and rather than give it up, he'd swallowed the key and had found refuge of the roof, which seemed like a safe place, but there was one small problem. Ray had a blaster and Schwoz had no cover.

"Go away!" Schwoz hissed and stuck his tongue out at the couple, who weren't fooling him with their glowing faces and rumpled sweaters. They got to have their fun, why did he have to give up his planned fun? The astronauts could save themselves. Deciding that he was being selfish, Ray took a shot at Schwoz, but his notoriety for being a terrible marksman meant he missed by a mile and a load of debris came falling from a new hole in the ceiling. 

"Hahaha! You missed me!" Schwoz giggled as (y/n) gave Ray a pointed look. He knew that he couldn't hit a target to save his life, so why was he the one doing the shooting?

"How did he get up there?" Charlotte pondered, staring at the man in confusion. It was a valid question, the walls were sheer, smooth stone, so it was a wonder how Schwoz had managed to shimmy his way to the top.

"He's like a goddamn ape." (y/n) shrugged and followed behind her boyfriend as they moved into a better firing position. They needed to get Schwoz down, even if it meant blasting him in the ass.

"Come on, Schwoz, you're gonna have to come down from there eventually." Ray pointed out, knowing that the roof didn't have any food or water, which meant that Schwoz's chosen safety spot was a poor one.

"Leave me alone!" The man cried out, hugging a support beam in fear as he braced himself for another round of lasers coming his way. 

"Come on, Schwoz! I need it!" Ray shouted desperately and fired his blaster again, causing more rocks to fall to the Man Cave floor. How they were gonna patch these holes was anyone's guess.

"No! I'm saving it for marriage! You marry (y/n) and you get your own!" Schwoz replied indignantly, making the couple below him freeze up. Marriage was something they had lightly touched upon in their late-night confessions, but it was still a foreign idea to them. They'd spent so long dreaming of mutual love that the thought of a white dress and vows made butterflies flutter in their tummies, but they weren't totally against it. Husband and wife sounded quite nice, it was just a tad premature.

"Hey!" Henry greeted his friends as his tube came down and he landed in the "Mad Cave". Schwoz was on the ceiling, Ray was firing a gun at him, Charlotte and (y/n) were watching, there was dirt on (y/n)'s meticulously clean floors, yep, everyone had gone crazy.

"Hi, Henry." Schwoz smiled down at the young boy, a new perspective for one who was usually so small. Normally, he'd be looking up at the lanky teen, but it was Henry's turn to crane his neck.

"Whoa! Why is Schwoz on the--" Henry gasped, both at Schwoz's remarkable acrobatic feat and the laser that Ray fired at him, which missed and sent more rock chunks to the boy's feet. 

"Ha! Missed me! Missed me! You are very stupid!" Schwoz jeered at Ray, who'd had just about enough of the repairman's lip. If he wanted to get mean, he'd return the favour tenfold.

"Those are not the lyrics!" The superhero growled, shooting Schwoz with slightly more concentration this time. Schwoz whimpered as he felt a burning sensation in his foot, but he clung to the roof even harder, sacrificing his shoe for the sake of his love shuttle.

"Okay, what is going on?" Henry asked, his brain spinning from everything he'd witnessed in the twenty seconds he'd been at work.

"Schwoz won't give Ray the launch key to his little rocket ship," Charlotte explained, blowing her friend's mind. 

"Why won't he-Schwoz has a rocket ship?!" He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the notion of knowing someone who could fly out on a jaunty space trip whenever he wanted. Now that was cool.

"It's called the Love Shuttle!" Schwoz squealed, happy to brag about his invention, but not share it. He didn't want people to roam around his future love nest, that would be weird.

"Why did Schwoz build a love shuttle?" Henry asked, looking at the couple in front of him. He didn't even want to know why their previously smooth outfits were now full of wrinkles and preferred to just look straight past it.

"For his honeymoon." Ray answered, his tone of voice basically saying "yeah, right like that's ever gonna happen". Girls weren't fond of Schwoz, which was sad, but true,

"Yeah, he says that when he gets married, which, let's face it, is only gonna happen with an insane amount of luck, he's going to have his honeymoon on the actual moon." (y/n) rolled her eyes and hugged herself to Ray's arm so she could inhale the smell of his cologne. All this space talk was making her stomach do somersaults. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Schwoz. You're never getting married!" Ray hissed, agreeing with his girlfriend that Schwoz had no chance of getting a girl to look at him, let alone promise herself to him for the rest of time. Although, the glare (y/n) gave her boyfriend suggested that if he kept creating new holes in the ceiling and scratches on her shiny floor from all the rocks, he wouldn't be getting married either.

"It could happen! There are women out there who'll take anybody! And you can't talk! It took you eight years to tell your girlfriend you loved her, so who's the real loser here?" Schwoz poked his tongue out at his boss and tried to fold his arms even though he needed them to stop himself from falling. 

"Give me that key!" Ray yelled, fed up with all the tormenting and before anyone could stop him, he unleashed a series of rapid firepower, but all he got was more mess and a burning sense of failure. Dammit, why couldn't he just shoot the little bastard?

"I think you might be overreacting," Henry told the panting man gently and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from lashing out again. They needed (y/n) cuddles, stat.

"Here, doofus, gimme that. You're never gonna hit him." (y/n) smirked at her boyfriend and took the weapon away from his hand before he could lose his temper again. They already had too much sweeping up to do, god forbid he caused anymore.

"You trying to say I'm a bad shot, sweet girl?" Ray asked the small woman, who gripped the large blaster with her small but deadly hands. Her experienced and dextrous fingers curled around the trigger as she looked to where Schwoz was hanging on and took aim.

"Yeah, I am. You're a shit shot." She deadpanned and slightly squinted her eyes as she honed in on her target. With Ray, Schwoz wasn't scared, but with Miss Danger doing the job, the instinct to scurry for cover reared its head.

"Wait, (y/n/n), no, no--" He cried out, trying to swing his way across the roof like a monkey, but even a moving target was no match for the woman and she blasted him, right on the ass. That would teach him to not mock her boyfriend.

"Ha! You shot his butt!" Henry laughed as Schwoz groaned on the floor. Ray couldn't help but admit defeat and he gave his girl a sweet victory kiss for successfully getting the guy down. Maybe he was terrible with his aim, but if it ended with a kiss every time, (y/n) was down for it.

"Hey! Did you guys hear?! There's a hostage situation up in space!" Jasper's sudden appearance put an end to Ray's happy mood, which progressively soured as the overly-happy boy stepped out of the elevator. His slowness of hearing the breaking bulletin and getting to work irritated the superhero even more, but he kept his cool.

"We heard,"

"We're aware." Charlotte and Ray told him dully, not finding Jasper's exuberance as infectious as (y/n) or Henry did. 

"Well, did you know that one of the astronauts is from Swellview?" The curly-haired boy went on, not realising that everyone in the city had found out before him. He was behind the times, Ray had come up with an entire rescue plan in the time it had taken Jasper to walk to Junk-N-Stuff.

"Yeah, Jim Dickle. I used to have the biggest crush on him when I was in college...until I met Captain Man." (y/n) confessed, but quickly saved it at the end when she heard the low growl in Ray's chest. He did not know that and the thought of rescuing Dick-le was suddenly slightly more bitter for him.

"You went to college with Jim Dickle?" Charlotte looked at her friend in awe, also not knowing that she had actually met the famed astronaut and known him on a personal level, even if personal was far from the truth.

"Well, yeah. I did mechanical engineering and he did...physics and astronaut stuff, so we occasionally bumped into each other. He was older though and a bit of a prick." The young woman shrugged, wondering what she ever saw in that guy. Maybe it was his fascination for all things with cogs and wiring that echoed her own, but she was much happier with her grumpy superhero.

"Stupid Jim Dickle..." Ray mumbled under his breath but soon cheered up when his girl snuggled into his side and leaned her head against his chest. He was the one who got to share her life, no one else and that made him feel so special.

"Well, did you know I was born with eleven toes, but only nine on my feet?" Jasper asked them, knowing that it was something they definitely wouldn't know. Okay, Jasper was born a freak, no doubt about it.

"Eleven?"

"What?"

"What he say?"

"He's a mutant." The four stunned, but also disturbed friends murmured, wondering how the hell Jasper was now walking around with ten normal toes. A miracle of modern science.

"Yeah, who's got news now?" Jasper hissed, glad that he'd rendered them speechless with something, even if it was the weirdest fact about himself. Just as Schwoz began groaning in pain (his butt was spectacularly sore), the computer began to beep, indicating that whilst there wasn't a full-blown emergency going down, there was something that needed Captain man's attention anyway.

"I'll check that," Charlotte told her boss and hurried over to the control panel so she could analyse the data. At least she was helpful.

"Hey, shouldn't you be up at Junk-N-Stuff, watching the store?" Ray suddenly asked Jasper, remembering that he paid the teen to guard his shop on his behalf. He'd be going bankrupt at this point and have enemies crawling all over the place.

"Well, I have to use the bathroom, but the one upstairs is broken," Jasper whined, trying to appeal to (y/n) and her sympathetic side as she reluctantly checked out Schwoz's injuries. It was difficult to remember sometimes that just because she was immune to wounds, it didn't mean others were. Even if Schwoz had been a pain in the ass.

"That's why we told you to use the one across the street at the gas station," Henry replied, getting. there before (y/n) could  with a kinder answer. Going down to the Man Cave was probably quicker, but the fewer times Ray had to be reminded that he'd employed the world's most annoying kid, the better.

"I'm no longer welcome at that gas station," Jasper mumbled, scuffing his shoe against the floor awkwardly. He left it open for Ray and (y/n) to think about why that might be and all sorts of weird and troubling things popped into their heads.

"Do we wanna know?" (y/n) asked as she flopped Schwoz's arm back to his side. She was certain he'd be fine, just whiny for a bit. And sore, very sore.

"Uh-oh. You guys, the space station is gonna be orbiting over Swellview in one hour." Charlotte announced once she had checked out the alarm and saw that their moment of opportunity was quickly drawing near.

"So?" Henry asked in confusion, him and (y/n) leaving Schwoz to moan in pain on the floor. They had more important things to focus on now.

"What does that mean?" Ray added, striding over to the computer so he could see what was happening for himself. 

"That if you guys don't head up there soon, you'll have to wait another twenty-four hours," Charlotte answered, making everyone realise that the space station was orbiting the Earth like the moon and they only had one shot to do this.

"If we don't make it, it could be too late by then." (y/n) panicked, suddenly feeling sick when the urgency mixed with her nervousness. It was safe to say that this was going to be the biggest moment of her superhero career, the most perilous certainly.

"Come on, we have to help those astronauts...at least the one from Swellview who (y/n) used to like." Henry sighed, knowing that it was their duty to help since no one else was. For all they knew, Jim and Neil could be being tortured and interrogated. The mentioning of (y/n)'s schoolgirl crush on the guy made Ray bite his lip harshly to stop himself from cursing his name. He knew that his relationship was exclusive, but other guys just made him prickle up.

"It was for like one year. He graduated and next thing I knew he was on the moon or whatever and I was gainfully employed by a hot superhero." She brushed off Henry's teasing and lovingly placed a kiss on Ray's cheek. Well, he wasn't grumpy now.

"C'mon, Schwoz. Give us the key to your Love Shuttle." Ray begged his battered and bruised friend, who had only just got to his feet. He was clutching his butt in pain and the handyman was still grouchy about being shot own from his hidey-hole.

"Wait, why doesn't NASA just send someone up there to help the astronauts?" Jasper suddenly jumped in with a reasonable question and Schwoz agreed. You'd think that a governmental agency like NASA would jump at the chance of bringing home two national heroes, but in reality, they weren't so keen.

"No can do. They just sent a supply rocket up two days ago and it's gonna take them six months to whip another one into shape." (y/n) shook her head, remembering Trent Overrunder saying something on the topic when she and Ray were watching the news in their bedroom,

"Well, can't we just borrow a rocket from China?" Henry asked, not realising that "China" and "rocket" shouldn't be said together in Ray's presence. Touchy subject.

"No! No! I'm not getting inside a Chinese rocket ever again!" Ray snapped moodily, making the boy drop the subject immediately. Looks like their only shot was the Love Shuttle and Schwoz still needed buttering up.

"Hey, come on, Schwoz. Let us use your Love Shuttle." Henry told the guy gently, seeing that a calm, soft approach was best. 

"Yeah. You're never gonna need it." Ray added in, still a strong believer in the fact that Schwoz would get married the day pigs started flying - never, not a chance in hell.

"I will! For when I get married!" The small man insisted, but his friends weren't so convinced. All his past romances had failed and merely getting a date was a mammoth task.

"Oh, to what, Schwoz? What's gonna marry you?" Ray exclaimed dramatically, thinking that Schowz could only score mutants freaks or blind alcoholics for lovers.

"Gerta, your robot girlfriend that you built specifically for yourself, even she left you. Surely, that tells you something." (y/n) sighed in exasperation, hating to see Schowz build himself up just to be knocked down. The truth hurt; Schwoz was never getting a girlfriend.

"Nooo...we...we're just taking a break." Schwoz shrugged, trying to make himself feel better, but deep down, he knew that his chances of seeing Gerta again were slim to none.

"Oh, come on!" Ray threw his hands up in the air. The guy was in denial and it was so frustrating to put up with. 

"She turned herself into a bird, Schwoz! Then she flew away!" Charlotte recalled and Ray imitated a bird flying away with his hands. Geez, that seemed like ages ago, back when Ray still thought he didn't deserve (y/n)'s love and she thought he would never look her way.

"Wait, when did that happen?" Jasper asked, flabbergasted at this new information. He had missed so much when he wasn't in the know with Henry's secret identity and everything was news to him.

"Last season," Henry answered aloofly to no one in particular.

"So you mean winter?" Jasper asked, confused with Henry's odd choice of language.

"Yeah, that's what he meant. Back when Ray was still my best friend." (y/n) smiled at her. boyfriend fondly, who pecked her hairline to show her that he regretted every second they spent together as just friends. He wished his younger self would've been braver, but things had worked out well enough and he was happy now.

"Look, buddy..." Ray stepped away from his girl momentarily so they could work the old charm on their little genius friend. 

"Dah, don't choke me!" Schwoz jumped at the sight of Ray's large hands stretching out towards his neck and the man held them up to his ears to show that he didn't mean to be threatening.

"Look, Schwoz, are you planning to marry someone in the next...ten hours?" (y/n) asked him, getting a rough estimation of how long they'd be gone in space. Ten hours: too many in her mind, but she'd die before they left without her.

"Well, I don't plan to, no." Schwoz shrugged, supposing that if it was for that meagre time, he might be tempted to let them borrow it just this once.

"Okay, so just lend us your Love Shuttle, and we'll bring it right back." Ray smiled, his hands patting Schwoz on the back in a friendly matter. Now, they just had to clinch the deal.

"And I'll bake you a batch of my oatmeal raisin cookies. The ones you love..." (y/n) told her friend in a sing-song voice and gave him a. sneaky smile. Bribery was always a good option.

"I do like your cookies. You promise to be careful with it?" Schwoz gave the grinning couple a stern smile and Henry decided that he should swear on their behalf. 

"We all promise." He said, walking over to Schwoz who took a second to mull over their oath. It was his precious ship and it had to be perfect for his future wife.

"And you two promise to not do grown-up things in it?" Schwoz lowered his voice to add in the final clause of the agreement, but everyone heard it, even Charlotte and she was on the other side of the Man Cave.

"Ew!" She and Henry groaned, their faces screwing up in disgust as Ray and (y/n)'s ears started to burn. Seriously? Did he have to say something so embarrassing?

"Schwoz! We're not animals!" (y/n) shrieked, hiding her face into Ray's shoulder so she wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. Like they would do it in Schwoz's weird love nest spaceship whilst on a life or death mission. Geez, they weren't that desperate.

"Well, never say never." Ray joked, laughing when the young woman gave him a furious look and Schwoz stamped his foot in anger. He didn't want to give his rocket to some jokers and Henry and Charlotte didn't want to hear this conversation. Adult things, ew.

"Schwoz, just give us the damn launch key!" (y/n) snapped at the handyman, who was enjoying her discomfort way too much.

"Okay...hold out your hand." Schwoz sighed, giving in to their demands. Doing as he had instructed, Ray stretched out his hand to receive the key, thinking that like any normal person, Schwoz would have the key in his pocket or on a chain, but no. The little weirdo had swallowed the key and began to gag and gargle to get it from his stomach.

"Oh my god..." Charlotte wretched, feeling like she was gonna puke if she even dared to peek through her fingers.

"I can't watch this...but I can't look away." Henry was feeling the same, but at the same time, he had a morbid fascination with seeing Schwoz regurgitate the key like an emperor penguin. He really was a freak of nature.

"What are you doing?" Ray asked the smaller man, not realising that it was a huge mistake to volunteer to be the recipient of the key.

"Are you sure you want to hold your hand out?" (y/n) whispered to him, but it was too late. The key erupted from Schwoz's mouth and landed in Ray's palm as a slobbery, bile-covered mess. 

"Ew!"

"Gross!"

"It's wet!" The teens cried as (y/n) swiftly stepped back from her boyfriend. She loved him, but not when he had half of Schwoz's stomach contents in his hand. 

"That's the launch key." Schwoz panted, feeling both queasy and exhausted from the strain he had put on his digestive system. He'd puked once, now he wanted to puke again.

"All right, Jasper. Looks like Captain Man needs your help." Ray told the aforementioned boy in his hero's voice, knowing that it would trigger his need to please his idol no matter what was asked of him.

"Sure! Anything! What do you need?" Jasper rushed past Henry, (y/n) and Charlotte to enthusiastically bounce in front of Ray, who took advantage of his generous nature by wiping the icky launch key on his shirt. 

"You're a good boy," Ray told Jasper, who quickly forgot about his filthy t-shirt when he heard Captain Man's praise, but (y/n) wasn't so impressed.

"And you're a bad man," She quipped back, shaking her head at Ray as he admired the now spotless key. No matter her sarcasm though, she couldn't get away from one thing, mission save the astronauts was about to lift off.

~In the Love Shuttle~

It was go time; Ray, Henry and (y/n) had taken their positions onboard Schwoz's craft, which was strangely decorated in a way that only Schwoz would think was intimate or romantic, and they were taking the final steps for launch. (y/n)'s heart was hammering inside her chest and she was praying Ray wouldn't feel it. Since Schwoz had built the rocket for two people, there were only two seats, so she had been forced to snuggle into Ray's lap, an experience that was both a blessing and a curse. His strong arms around her were comforting, but she didn't want him to sense her dread and send her home, that would be awful.

"Okay, guys, I'm now going to insert the key into the console," Ray told his sidekicks and reached around his girlfriend's hips so he could slot it into its hole.

"Uh, okay," Henry said cooly, feeling completely chill with the whole setup, even if he was probably the youngest person in Swellview to ever go into outer space. 

"I did it." Ray smiled at the two, who weren't sure if he wanted a round of applause or something. The boy just wanted to ensure the coordinates were punched in correctly and (y/n) was trying not to freak out. 

"Well done you." She breathed out with an airy chuckle and hoped that she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. There was nowhere safer than being in Ray's arms and it's not like she was going to die if they crashed, but leaving Earth sounded so crazy in her mind. She had no time to dwell on it though as she soon caught on that Henry and Ray were feeling for their gum tubes and she did the same.

"You are aboard the Love Shuttle. Welcome, Schwoz and...woman's name. Prepare for your honeymoon." Okay, that was the weirdest onboard announcement ever recorded in the history of aviation. Hearing Schwoz's voice on the tape was odd and the cheesy, romantic music that followed made the whole thing even more insane, especially when Henry and Ray started to dance in their seats.

"Ray..." (y/n) whimpered, trying to keep her balance as her boyfriend sneakily ground his hips against her. Like hell was she going to let him have her twice in one day, especially when they were supposed to be professional, but that didn't mean that the friction of his jeans didn't feel good.

"Okay, Schwoz! Schwoz, how do I turn this love music off?!" Henry suddenly yelled into his headset when he realised that they were actually here to do serious things, not listen to some groovy music. 

"Oh, come on. Love music isn't for turning off. It's for turning on." Schwoz joked and continued to slide across the Man Cave's floor to the beat of the saxophone. 

"Amen to that," Ray growled into his sweet girl's ear, his hands coming to rest between her upper thighs. It was a dangerous attempt to try and persuade her to give in just this once, so he could indulge in the sweetness he'd been denied for seven years, but they just didn't have the time.

"Don't worry, I got it." (y/n) told Henry and felt Ray slump back in disappointment as she killed the track. Ugh, killjoy.

"Okay, Henry, (y/n), Ray, we pre-set the flight computer to automatically take you to the space station." Charlotte's voice came over the radio and the crew settled down to begin the takeoff procedures.

"Copy that. And we are...prepped for launch." Henry confirmed, flicking the last of the switches in the cockpit and they all let out an excited gasp when the rocket's thrusters began to power up. 

"Hey kid, let's go to space and kick some ace." Ray chuckled and his silly comment made (y/n) relax a little. It wasn't a death sentence, more like an adventure and that thought helped her get in the mood for their trip.

"To the stars!" Henry declared and the three blew their bubbles so they could leave the Earth as superheroes, which was awesome to hear over the radio in the Man Cave.

"Hey, we're so cool." (y/n) giggled as they stretched out their costumes and got used to having them on. Ray was particularly pleased with the costume change since it meant he was now able to let his hands roam around his girl's smooth thighs. Sure, his gloves were in the way, but that was just a minor technicality.

"Never done that sitting down before," Henry commented, noting how every time he'd ever transformed into Kid Danger, it had always been when he was stood up.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure if it was gonna work," Ray replied and the two boys laughed at the adrenaline high they were experiencing, leaving (y/n) to roll her eyes at them.

"All right, you guys. I just wanted to say...be careful up there." Jasper told the giggling boys, drawing them back to calmness. They had to have their minds focused because this shit was high-risk.

"Roger that," Henry answered, glad that he had his best friend at the base to keep him grounded. Jasper's support was just what he needed to keep any doubt at bay.

"We copy," Ray replied solemnly too, remembering that not only was he putting himself in danger, but he was also taking his entire world with him in his arms. Lying back with her cuddled up against him made it so easy to forget, but he was determined to keep her out of harm's way. 

'Cause, you three are the only, Ray, (y/n) and Henry I have!" Jasper added, his sweet words going over the boys' heads, but at least (y/n) could appreciate his sentiment. 

"Aw, thanks, Curly!" She told him happily, thinking that he'd leave it there, but nope...

"I've never told you this before but...I just wanted you guys to know that..." He sniffled and his imminent confession caused all those listening to cringe, hard.

"Hit it." Ray quickly ordered Henry, who wasted no time in whacking the launch button. Ray only needed one person to say those three little words, and that person wasn't Jasper. As soon as the button was pressed, the rocket propelled itself into the air and each hero was pressed into the seats as the immense g-force of the takeoff affected them

"We're going to space!" Ray exclaimed as he gripped the wall with one hand and tightly secured his girlfriend to his chest with the other. He didn't want her to roll around the cabin and hurt herself and it was so nice to feel the way she buried herself into the safety of his chest.

"I know! It's so fun!" Henry cried out, loving every minute of the blast-off, although it felt like his face was going to be peeled off from the force.

"This is your idea of fun?!" (y/n) hissed back and braced herself against Ray so she could wait for them to reach the outer atmosphere. It wouldn't be long, just a few seconds and then it would be smooth flying from there on out. 

"Cruising altitude. You're now free to walk about the ship, Schwoz and...woman's name." The rocket's automated voice and its creator announced, allowing the superheroes to relax as they started to gently drift towards their destination.

"Space, the final frontier. How many guys can say they took their girlfriends to space, huh?" Ray spoke as they broke free of the Earth's gravity and he altered his voice to sound like some famous captain off an old sci-fi series from when he was a kid. 

"What does that mean?" Henry asked, wondering why his boss was being all mysterious and weird. Obviously, he had never heard of Star Trek.

"Y'know..."the final frontier". Last place in the universe that mankind hasn't explored yet and I'm showing it to my girl. Space!" The superhero exclaimed and wistfully stared at the woman in his lap rather than the stars outside their window because she was infinitely more beautiful to him. 

"What about oceans?" (y/n) piped up after a few seconds of pondering her boyfriend's words. She loved his fawning over her, but what he said wasn't quite right.

"What was that, sweet girl?" Ray mumbled against her hair as Henry too looked at her with confusion. What had the sea got to do with space and frontiers or whatever the hell Ray was on about?

"Y'know, oceans. We haven't explored all of the oceans yet. Eighty per cent of our oceans are unmapped and unobserved, so aren't they an unobserved frontier? Oceans and all the weird little fishies we don't know about yet?" She rambled, feeling a bit drowsy and loopy as his warmth soaked into her body. A small nap wouldn't hurt. 

"Okay, fine. Space, one of the two final frontiers." Ray corrected himself and cradled her neck into his neck as her shallow breaths danced across his collar and exposed skin.

"What about parallel universes?" Henry was soon joining in on the conversation, although a swift finger over his lips from Ray told the boy he wanted to let the sweet little thing in his arms snooze for a bit.

"What?" Ray sighed quietly, not believing that what was meant to be a cute, cool comment was turning into a damn debate.

"Remember that time that Charlotte and I went to that parallel universe?" Henry jogged Ray's memory, making him bite his lip was all the details came flooding back. In that world, he turned evil after losing (y/n), his wife and the mere thought made him shudder. 

"I suppose," He nodded slightly, trying not to make any jagged movements that would disturb his girl from her rest,

"The one where I died." (y/n) muttered and shifted her body so she was comfortably sprawled sideways in Ray's lap. The man had no idea how she knew that, but he didn't want to find out. The less he thought about losing her in all matters of speaking, the better.

"Well, there's probably lots more parallel universes that none of us has explored, so I guess you could say--" The boy tried to explain his theory, but his boss had heard enough. He got it, space was a load of shit, big deal.

"Space! One of many, many remaining frontiers." He snapped in a voice that was a little louder than he wanted it to be and all the shouting made (y/n) flinch in his embrace.

"Stop yelling, doofus. M'trying to sleep." She scolded him with a pathetic slap to the chest, which was more of a light tap since she gave up halfway through. Sleep sounded nice and she just felt so cosy, a few minutes with her eyes closed.

"We'll be there soon," Henry told her, but she just ignored him with nothing more than a hum to answer him. "Soon" actually meant like half an hour or forty-five minutes, plenty of time for a power nap.

"I like sleep. Sleep kicks ass." She muttered incoherently and drifted off peacefully, leaving the boy's to entertain themselves.

~Forty minutes later~

A decent conversation, a game of I-spy and several rounds of rock, paper, scissors later, Ray and Henry were left completely bored. They had nothing to do, no phone signal, no games, no TV, nothing and (y/n) was still fast asleep and dead to the world (or was that space?). Henry had grown tired of watching Ray gaze at her like a lovesick puppy and for the last ten minutes, the cockpit had been silent.

"Ughhhh, I'm sick of just sitting here," Ray complained, shuffling his butt backwards so he could sit up straighter, but still rock his girlfriend like a baby. It was nauseating to see, but certainly better with the knowledge that it wasn't oblivious pining anymore. 

"Shhhh! You'll wake your girlfriend up! And, Schwox said that we should be at the space station pretty--" Henry tried to keep his boss entertained, but he was like a toddler a long flight; five minutes and he was touching stuff again.

"I wonder what these buttons do." Ray mentioned like a curious child and began to tap all of the shiny buttons that caught his eye, even though one wrong move could trigger a self-destruction protocol or something.

"Do I have to slap your wrists again?" A gravelly, sleep-filled voice rumbled into his ear, signalling that his sudden movements had woken (y/n) up prematurely. Well, that was her nap over.

"Don't start pressing random--" Henry too protested, but he started selling when his seat began to vibrate and massage his back muscles. Hello, Schwoz had installed a few gadgets on this thing...nice.

"What's happening?" Ray asked his gleeful sidekick as he giggled and (y/n) slid off his lap so she was sat on the chair in between his legs.

"You made my chair start to vibraaaaaaaate." Henry's voice trembled as his vocal cords were shaken, but even then could the couple hear how pleased he was and his fun made Ray pout.

"Aw, no fair! I wanna vibrate!" He whined and against (y/n)'s pleas, he bashed the buttons randomly again, hoping to score lucky. And he did, one tap and his chair was vibrating too, making him and (y/n) collapse against each other in a fit of giggles.

"This feels sillllllyyyyyy." She laughed at how all of her body was tingling all over, like she was being tickled but without the torture.

"Hey! My voice sounds weird. Listen, ahhhhhhh!" Ray's baritone voice began to wobble and Henry's did too, but their combined sounds covered up the crescendo of the computer telling them that they were five seconds away from docking with the space station. Four, three, two, one...

"Arghhhhh!" They all screamed at the violent impact and the boys quickly shut off the vibrations as they thought about all the worst scenarios in their minds, but everything was fine. 

"Hey, Schwoz, think we just docked with the space station," Ray spoke into his microphone, not realising that the genius had just said the exact same thing to Charlotte when she verbally wondered. what all the noise was about. 

"Oh, really? My goodness, thanks for the information." Schwoz replied sarcastically, but Charlotte ignored him so they could get straight down to business. No time like the present after all.

"Okay, you have a pressure lock, so you are good to enter the space station." The girl told the heroes like a proper controller and they heard her loud and clear.

"Ten-four, good Charlotte."

"We ten-ten on the side."

"Over and out." They replied and shrugged off their headsets so they could stand up at last. This was it, it was just them now and whatever they find on the other side of the door.

"All right, guys, we're about to leave the Love Shuttle and enter the space station. " Ray told his sidekicks, but they didn't need a running commentary, they had their blasters and were ready to kick some ass.

"Yep, I'm up to speed on the story." Henry nodded, feeling like Ray was babying him just to sound cool.

"I also know what's going on." (y/n) added, locking and loading everything she needed to fight any bad guys. Maybe it was an alien, who knows.

"I know, I'm just saying, we have no idea who or what hijacked that space station and we won't know until we go in there and look inside." The man elaborated more, but it was all just waffle. They knew this and were fairly certain that this was just a stall tactic.

"Yeah, which is why I've got my gun so I can shoot it or them in the face." His girlfriend nodded, raising her weapon and shaking in front of Ray's face so he'd get the picture.

"Then let's go do this." He nodded.

"Waitin' on you..." Henry mumbled, knowing that he and his fellow sidekick were ready to go, it was the boss who was keeping them behind.

"Set weapons to stun," Ray ordered them, not wanting any deaths or injuries on their hands. Mass murder wasn't Captain Man's style, even if his work involved low-down, criminal assholes.

"Is this right?" Henry asked the experienced couple, whose eyes widened when they saw that his setting was completely, cataclysmically wrong.

"Shit, no, Henry, that's set to melt. You wanna melt the place into a puddle?" (y/n) fretted, her panic making the kid rapidly change from one mode to the right one. Well, that could've been a disaster.

"No, I do not," Henry replied, glad that they'd spotted the mistake. A melted criminal would be a long and icky cleanup.

"Give it...here you go." Ray sighed when he saw that the boy was struggling to work with Schwoz's technology and it was just kinder to do it himself than let him struggle. Okay, weapons, check, next, the door. Ray pushed the lock that released the door pressure and the hatch slid open. Into the unknown...well, it would be if either one of them knew some common courtesy.

"Do you wanna go first?" Ray asked his sidekick and after a few seconds of floundering, the two had worked out that Henry would go first. Geez, it took them ten minutes just to leave the damn rocket.

"Ray..." (y/n) grabbed his wrist just before he entered the hatched and he turned around to see her big, round eyes staring up at him with so much wonder and love. 

"Yeah, sweet girl?" He whispered, brushing some stray hairs away from those eyes so he could gaze into them one last time before they entered the battlefield.

"I love you." She told him cutely, wanting to say it as in their line of work, every moment could be their last.

"I love you too. Always." He whispered their promise again and sealed it with a hungry kiss that was far too short for his or her liking, but the desire it left only meant that the next would be so much better.

"Always." She mumbled against his lips and reluctantly pulled away so he could step through the hole first. Their hands were tightly conjoined as he checked to see if Henry was still alive with no mad murderers around. Thankfully, there were none and they were left in an eerily quiet room with nothing but the pulsing beeps of the machinery around them. God, this was spooky. 

"Okay, kid, stay cool," Ray told his sidekick, who was nervously clutching his blaster for dear life since a sneak attack could happen at any given instance. Anything could happen, for example, a small, metal door could fall from the ceiling and crack (y/n)'s skull, sending her to the floor in agony and Henry into hysteria. Shit, what a good start.

"Ahhhh, what is that? What is happening?" Henry squealed in fear as Ray instinctively threw his gun down and ducked down to shield his girlfriend on the floor from any more blows. His sidekick rolled around, shooting rapid-fire at every blinking light he saw. "Cool" went out of the window; Henry was suddenly shit scared and Ray was fretting over the blood flowing through (y/n)'s hair whilst her skin patched over. No biggie, the wound was gone in a flash, but it left them all on edge.

"Hey, I think I got whatever it was that attacked (y--" Henry's caution was right, something was going on. Two more pieces of metal fell from the ceiling and whoever or whatever dropped them had blinding accuracy since they hit Captain Man and Kid Danger on the head too. 

"Captain Man? Miss Danger?" A sweet, innocent voice sounded out and the three heroes looked up in horror to see that a little girl had swiped Ray's gun and was now pointing it directly at them. A kid was behind this? What the actual fuck!

"Uh, I'm here too. Kid Danger, also relevant." Henry groaned as Ray helped his girlfriend to her feet and gulped at the predicament they found themselves in. The blood trickling down her forehead was no longer a concern as (y/n) prayed for salvation.

How were they gonna get out of this one?

[traegics]

[ tommy martinez | he/him ] A new face takes refuge under Dark Skies. PHOENIX “JAGGER” HENDRIX, an 29 year old HUMAN, is one of those from the PAST learning to navigate this changed world. People say behind their back that they’re STUBBORN  but the truth is that they’re really CONFIDENT. Their style can best be described as ELECTRIC GUITARS, LIQUOR AND MARLBORO’S, AND LEATHER, and we’ll see how that helps them fit in. ( Sushi ).

BASICS

Name: Phoenix Jag Hendrix Nicknames/Alias: Nix, Jag, Jagger (Preferred) Face Claim: Tommy Martinez Age: 28 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Date of Birth: 09/18/2006 Currently: New Orleans, LA Species: Human Occupation: Rockstar Rank: Lead Guitarist, Vocalist

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: Confidence: feeling or showing confidence in oneself; self-assured. Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. Courageous: able to face and deal with danger or fear without flinching Adventurous: willing to undertake new and daring enterprises. Self-Aware: having conscious knowledge of one's own character and feelings. Boxing Technologically Proficient Efficient in multiple languages (Spanish, English, Italian) Guitar Vocals Public Speaking CPR

Flaws/Weaknesses: Stubborn: having or showing dogged determination not to change one's attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. Unpredictable: not able to be predicted Takes on to much Likes to take risks Introverted Sensitive but doesn’t show it Confrontational

Archetype: Guardian: Protects the weak. Gentle Giant: Friendly and warm, in contrast to how they are perceived because of their size. Good Guy/Traditional Hero: The character archetype of a traditionally all-good protagonist. Their goal is to save others from evil.

Likes: Favourite colour? Blue Favourite foods? Meatball Subs, Pizza, Nachos, Cheeseburgers, Dino Nuggest Favourite music? Rock N Roll Favorite books? Comics and Classic Literature Fears: tbd

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Axel Hendrix (Father) Melody Hendrix (Mother) Siblings: Unnamed Hendrix (Younger Brother) Unnamed Hendrix (Younger Sister) Children: N/A (I hope) Other family: N/A Spouse: N/A Current Partner: N/A Ex-Partners: tbd Boss/Employer: N/A Co-Workers: Sebastian Mondragón, TBD Friends: Sebastian Mondragón, TBD Enemies: TBD

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 6'0"″ 170 lbs Tall and Muscular Hair Colour: Black Eye Colour: Brown Distinguishing Marks: TBD Accomplishments: TBD Regrets: TBD Secrets: TBD

HISTORY

-- Was born to hot shot rockstar Axel Hendrix and his wife Melody who was also his PR Manager -- Oldest of three kids -- His childhood was spent homeschooled and travelling the world whenever his father was on tour. Home, however, has always been New Orleans -- He picked up guitar at young age and has always planned on following in his fathers footsteps, the man he admires most, when he got older. -- Studied musical compostion and audio engineering at the University of New Orleans -- During his college years he met Sebastian Mondragón and became close friends with him, eventually joining his band as a lead guitarist and a vocalist -- He does know about the existence of supernatural creatures and finds them ridiculously intriguing and thinks he's one of the coolest humans cause his best friend is a literal dragon.

[porterdavis]

On April 14, 1963, The Beatles had a night off. Wanting to keep up on the local music scene, they decided to visit the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond-upon-Thames, Surrey, England, to see an unsigned band. That band called themselves "The Rolling Stones”.

Here is a picture of what the Stones looked like around that time. Such nice looking young clean cut boys they were….

- College of Rock n Roll Knowledge

[bluesrocknrollingstones]

Waters , Keef , Ron, Jagger n Watts , 1978

From College Of Rock And Roll Knowledge

[allinmymincl]

sage teller penned by sam for nepofm.

TRIGGERS: mentions of death, very brief and vague.

basics. full name sage william teller gender cis man pronouns he/him age twenty - two dob january 3rd, 2001 star sign capricorn hometown manhattan, nyc occupation music journalist, nighttime radio show host

biography. sage william teller was born and raised in new york city. he’s the eldest and only grandson of william teller, famed record producer of the 60s & 70s known for lending his talent to some of the biggest hits of the era : from disco to blues to most notably rock n’ roll. william teller died young in the mid - 70s, burning out quickly after years of hard partying alongside music legends, many of whom would share his fate before long if they weren’t already gone.

sage is related to william through his father, who is the sole offspring of the record producer and his widow. being born into music royalty naturally granted sage ( and soon his younger sister too ) things like a spot at the best performing arts school in new york city, one of the most enviable inherited record collections in the world, and, of course, backstage passes to any concert he’s ever wanted to see. 

although he excelled in his music courses and could chatter on about the subject for hours and hours on end, sage is, ultimately, quite shy. often referred to as ‘ stage fright ’, to this day sage insists that he simply doesn’t like to be stared at and, come on, who does ? the only real problem with discarding the rockstar dream was that sage was just never very good at anything else he tried his hand at : academics, sports, art, poetry ( never speak of it ). his shyness rendering his circle of friends perpetually sparse, he at least had the time and space to figure himself out during those crucial teen years. knowing for certain that he wanted some kind of career in music led him to direct some questions to his dad, who had followed in the footsteps of his own father and now works in the music industry, albeit he leaned more into the business side of things.

aided by his technical knowledge and background in music, sage started up a music blog as a teenager where he rated, critiqued, and shared his overall thoughts on music both new and old. although it quickly gained a large following which he was able to maintain for a while despite remaining completely anonymous on his blog, the offers to write articles for popular music publications that eventually started rolling in were most likely arranged by his dad. sage accepted most of the offers nonetheless, and spent his last two years of high school and first two years of college ( journalism, princeton ) building a reputation for himself in music journalism.

an internship during the summer before his third year of undergrad studies was his first introduction to radio and he was drawn in immediately, fascinated by the fast - paced, ( and importantly for him, completely anonymous ) yet allegedly dying field. he got behind the mic of nyc’s most beloved classic rock station and instantly fell in love. it had never been easier for him to express himself, to ramble on and on and on about the thing he loves most in the world and share his favorite pieces of it, simultaneously standing on the world’s stage and hiding away from the prying eyes that have followed him for his entire life.

he almost quit school to pursue his chosen career full - time, but his mother implored him not to, and, well, he suddenly felt bad about the fact that they’ve never been very close. he had never been very close with anyone, in fact – not even his dad who he has so much in common with, or his mentor at the radio station who gave him 9pm - 5am time slot and all of the career advice he’d gathered throughout his many years in the industry.

one mini not - even - quarter - life crisis later, sage had met a lot of people, trudged into work hungover but also still a little crossfaded at 5:30pm on a tuesday or two, but he hadn’t really made any new friends. he did meet a girl, though. and he fell for her, because she was fun and exuberant and she liked him.

she probably wasn’t really ready for commitment, which sage wasn't entirely clear on, and so he proposed soon after finishing college. and was turned down. the only serious relationship he’s ever really had, and the only break up with a real sense of finality to it that he’s ever gone through still gets to him even though months have passed. he only recently brought himself to return the ring he bought for her, as accurately reported by nepoupdates.

nowadays, jive talkin’ teller is a quite literally the most recognizable voice among those nyc night owls who happen to also like led zeppelin and half - stoned ramblings about the greatest guitarists of all time. his skills, his resume, and his family name lend much credibility to his opinions in the eyes of the public ( so if anyone has a musician muse that they want sage to talk shit about on his show lmk ). he’s been credited with starting a radio renaissance of sorts, which makes him really happy because there’s nothing that he’s more passionate about than radio.

personality. he’s on air from 9pm - 5am and sleeps like a rock, so no matter how close one thinks they are to him, if he’s their emergency contact then it’s in their best interest to simply not have any emergencies between the hours of 7am - 3pm because he literally will not answer even if it’s his day off. he’s still painfully shy in person to anyone he’s never met before, but if he’s comfortable with someone then he’s never shutting up, especially not about music. a little judgmental, and pretentious, and definitely a music snob, but sage insists that he’s got the best taste and he just has a lot of passion ; both love and hate. however, he's a patented Man Of Few Words and is often regarded as being emotionally distant because of this. he still doesn’t have a lot of friends, and often tends to be off in his own little world where music stopped being made in 1978 for some reason.

[wintrwinchestr]

listen for the sound

the killer & the sound - chapter 1

summary: your all time favorite rock band, Death’s Head, is going on tour, and you’re a last minute replacement for their opening act. working with cocky and confident frontman Joel Miller proves to be more challenging than expected when he insists on flirting with and flustering you as much as you’ll let him. and if you’re being honest, you’d let him do just about anything he wanted with you.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, no use of y/n, rockstar!joel, aspiring rockstar!reader, d/s dynamics but nothing crazy yet, f & m masturbation (separately), daddy & mommy issues, allusion to daddy kink (buckle in for chapter 2), religious trauma, age gap (reader is early-mid 20’s, joel is early-mid 50’s), heavy flirting, pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc), some joel pov, shy/anxious reader, reader is shorter than joel and has at least shoulder-length hair, winter’s limited knowledge of how band rehearsal/touring works, let me know if i missed any!!

word count: 9.9k

a/n: the first chapter of rockstar!joel is here!! he’s been haunting mine and kiers’ dreams for 2 months or so, and i’m so happy to release him into the world. thanks for writing him with me pookie :) thank you for reading, nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed!!

series masterlist

read this chapter on ao3

next chapter

divider by @saradika-graphics

The first time you’d heard his voice, it was through the crackling waves of your little pink radio, sitting on the sticker-covered nightstand of your childhood bedroom. Late at night, after your mother had gone to bed, you’d tune it from Christian pop to the rock ‘n roll station, keeping the volume low so as to maintain your little secret. The newest release from Austin-based rock band Death’s Head, the DJ had announced when he introduced the track.

Your mother had called songs of their genre “the devil’s music”, specifically saying that “those gentlemen need to get right with Jesus. I can’t believe their mothers would allow them to ruin their bodies with all those… tattoos.” Good thing she had never seen the little moth you had permanently inked on your upper thigh, a shoddy recreation of the band’s logo done in the basement of a friend’s birthday party sophomore year of high school. Another one of your little secrets.

Your passion for music had begun with them, on that sweltering Texas evening. The breeze from your open window had carried his gravelly baritone, their deafening drums and shrieking guitar riffs, through the damp air and directly into your very soul, it seemed. Nothing had ever spoken to you before quite like their music, the way they seemed to create it as if they had never been held back from it. Unlike you.

Despite your pleading with your mother to let you pursue music in college, she never gave in. She had disapproved from the very beginning, said it was an impractical dream, that writing and playing music could never be a real job. You weren’t willing to compromise with her, or to compromise on who you were. And so, she kicked you out the day after your high school graduation. You’ve never looked back, and she never bothered to check up on you. You had always suspected she never liked you very much, anyway. It had been just you and her since you were a toddler, when your father had decided he loved pretty young waitresses and booze more than he ever loved the two of you. She needed someone to take her resentment out on, you suppose.

The first time you’d seen his face, it was through the staticky screen of the square little TV you had purchased for your shabby pre-furnished apartment. He was featured on a late night  interview to promote the band’s newest album. You had finally learned his name that night, Joel Miller, and that everything about him was captivating and completely mesmerizing. Even through the fuzzy quality of the broadcast, you could see him, clear as day: the silver that streaked his shaggy hair and scruffy beard, the rugged scar across the bridge of his nose, the silver jewelry that pierced through his left brow and bottom lip, the dark black ink painted across the surface of both arms and hands… including the gothic letters that spelled out DADDY across the knuckles of his left one.

Joel’s legs were spread, head thrown back in laughter as he recounted a story to the late night host. His charming banter and dazzling smile sent an instant swarm of butterflies to your tummy, and you couldn’t help but form a girlish crush on him. To put a face, a body, to the voice that kept you company when it felt like you had no one else in the world who understood you, it felt life-altering. And maybe it was.

After spending 4 years writing songs and performing small gigs instead of 4 years at college, you had finally begun to make a name for yourself as a solo artist. You had secured yourself a deal with a local indie label, and recently returned from a small regional tour after the debut of your first album. Bars, community centers, and even small theaters had felt more like home to you than the house you grew up in ever did. After so many years of feeling isolated and misunderstood by your surroundings, you felt rejuvenated after finding your place among Texas’ rock music scene. You like to think that many of the people you played for had found a place of belonging within you, too, in the handful of songs you wrote about your complicated adolescence, your parents, your hometown.

You weren’t a huge star by any means, but you had amassed a small group of fans, and even had a few local record stores selling your album. You hadn’t pursued this passion of yours for fame or money, of course not, who does? But, you couldn’t ignore the little tug on your heart, some inward longing to become the badass rock and roll darling that you had needed in your childhood. To win awards for your craft, to be recognized, to be valued… To prove your mother wrong? Maybe. But that wasn’t the whole of it.

–

On a lazy day off in your little studio apartment, a few weeks after returning from your last performance, you get a call from your manager, Cat, saying that she wants to meet with you at your label’s offices to talk about next moves for your career. You’re in the middle of giving yourself a much-needed manicure, but you oblige anyway, driving downtown in your beat-up sedan and trying not to smudge your still-wet polish on the wheel.

She meets you at the door, and you make your way into her office to discuss her plans for you. You’re grateful to have Cat on your team, and you find comfort in your relationship with her. The rock and roll scene is still heavily male-dominated, even with female superstars breaking down barriers at every opportunity. You aspire to be like them, and Cat has always known that about you. You’ve always trusted that she has your best interests at heart.

“So, I know you’ve really only just started to recover from your first tour, but… I have something else for you. I wanted to tell you in person just so I could see your reaction.”

A small pause while she looks at you as you sit down across from her, letting you stew in anticipation. 

“Well, are you gonna tell me or what?”

“Not yet, I like making you sweat a little… Tell me, if you could work with any artist in the world, who would it be?”

“What does that have to do with–?” She gives you an exasperated look, and you decide to play along. “Fine, but you already know my answer. Death’s Head, duh.”

“Uh huh…” She struggles to contain her smile while she waits for you to make the connection.

“Wait, no way. You’re not saying–I swear to God, if you’re messing with me right now–”

“Their tour manager called me this morning, he said the band is in the middle of rehearsing for their upcoming tour, and their opener backed out at the last minute. Apparently, he was at one of your shows last month and picked up your album. He thinks you’d be a perfect fill-in, thinks you’d really click with the band and said you’ve got a great sound. Even told me they’re excited to meet you, he played your record for them and they think you’re killer.”

“No way… no FUCKING way! He did NOT say that!” Your heart slams against your ribcage as you spring up from your seat. 

“He absolutely did say that, babe! So… I’m assuming I can call him back and tell him you’ll do it?” She asks playfully.

“Of-fucking-course you can!” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll give him a call back this afternoon. I’m so happy, seriously, this is gonna be huge for you,” she tells you sincerely, still laughing at your animated fit of excitement. 

“Oh my god, I can’t fucking believe it…” you reclaim your seat and hold your face in your hands for a moment, before taking a deep breath and smoothing your hair back. “How the fuck am I gonna talk to Joel Miller in person? Perform in front of him? I had, like, the world’s biggest crush on him in high school. He basically changed my life.”

“I’ll be sure to tell his manager that, I’m sure he doesn’t hear that nearly enough,” Cat jokes, an obviously sarcastic tone to her quip. 

“So, wait.” Suddenly coming out of your exhilarated daze, you realize: “You said they’ve been rehearsing already, and I’m a last minute replacement? How much time do I have?”

“Their manager told me on the phone that if you agreed, you’d have to be in rehearsal with them all morning tomorrow. It’s all the time they have left before the tour kicks off next week. He figured you wouldn’t need much time, since you’ve only got the one album so far and you’ve basically been rehearsing your set all across the state for the past 2 months.”

“Okay, I can work with that… It’ll be fine, right? But wait, what about–” You look to Cat for reassurance, already starting to pick at your freshly dried nail polish and bouncing your leg out of view from where she sits behind her desk.

“Your band?” She cuts you off, knowing exactly where your mind is headed before it even gets there. “I’ll get them all on the phone today, make sure they’ll be there tomorrow, too. And it’ll be great, I promise. You know how much I believe in you. This is what you’ve been working for, right?”

You nod, averting your eyes to the abstract pattern of the carpet while you try to center yourself. 

“And for what it’s worth, some other people I know in the business have all said they’re really nice guys. Never said anything about humble, especially a certain frontman of theirs, but they’re nothing to be scared of.”

They’re fucking rock music legends, but yeah, nothing to be scared of.

When you still don’t reply, fully tucked away inside your own head now, she continues. “You’ll be amazing, I know you will. Why don’t you go home, enjoy the rest of your day off, and I’ll call their tour manager back and tell him you and the band will be at rehearsal tomorrow. He said they’ll have cars come pick you up individually, so just be ready around 8AM with your guitar, and wear something cute,” she tosses you a wink on the last bit of her sentence.

“Oh my god, stop,” you giggle, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication of her teasing words. “Thank you, Cat. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Hey, you’ve got the talent and the pretty face, I’m just here to watch you take over the world.” 

You both get up from your seats to share a hug, and she embraces you tightly. “Knock ‘em dead, babe,” she says close to your ear before releasing you.

As you practically skip back out to your drab little car, you have a certain adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream, feeling that you’re finally on the precipice of something monumental.

–

The next morning, you’re standing on the curb outside your building with your guitar case in one hand, the fingers of the other occupied by your teeth as they nervously bite at what’s left of your polish. You’ve put together an outfit that you think Cat would approve of without looking like you’re trying too hard: the black leather jacket and Doc Martens that you pair with practically everything, a simple white t-shirt, and loose-fitting black jeans, cuffed at the ankles. You’ve accessorized with a western-style belt and your silver crucifix necklace. It functions more as another thing for you to fidget with than any kind of meaningful symbol, but something compels you to keep wearing it, anyway. It doesn’t feel right to get rid of such a thing, and even though you’re not much of a believer anymore, you still feel a pang of guilt in your stomach every time you consider it.

A few minutes before eight, a black full-size SUV with darkened windows pulls up next to where you’re standing on the sidewalk, and the driver rolls down his window to confirm your name. He helps you load your guitar into the trunk, and when he opens the street-side door to the backseat for you, you’re surprised to find that the space opposite the one you’re about to climb into is already occupied. You were under the impression that it would just be you and the driver this morning, but you’re a little relieved at the idea of not having to make awkward conversation by yourself.

That relief turns to terror in a second when you clock the intricate shading of a moth on the back of the other person’s large hand, and the legendary capital letters adorning the knuckles below it. 

It’s Joel.

You’re getting into a fucking car with Joel Miller.

You thought you’d at least have the ride to rehearsal to prepare yourself for meeting him, for what you’d say to him without making a complete fool of yourself. You hear Cat’s encouraging words echoing around your skull as you position yourself on the cool black leather and buckle your seatbelt, trying to avoid eye contact.

God, you haven’t even fully looked at him yet, but you can see in your peripheral vision how fucking big he is.

Even sitting down, he seems taller in person, legs so long he can’t help but to spread them a little to make himself comfortable. When you take a deep breath in an effort to slow your racing heart, you can smell him: cigarettes, leather, and teakwood. Fuck, he even smells gorgeous.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” he greets you casually, as if his presence isn’t sending you careening to the edge of having a heart attack. He extends a calloused, tattooed hand across his body for you to take.

“H– hi, mornin’.” You take his hand in your smaller one and give it a soft shake as the driver begins the journey to the rehearsal space. You finally work up the courage to look at his face in the brief moment that your hands are touching, and lord, he’s fucking beautiful. The tanned skin that forms into delicate lines around his mossy amber eyes, the tantalizing pink blush of his lips, the glittering silver that streaks his dark hair, he practically looks like a painting. It’s hard to believe that he really exists in front of you now, when you had previously only seen him through hazy television screens and crinkled posters. 

“‘S a cool jacket, looks good on you.” He flashes that superstar grin as he compliments you, returning his hand to its previous resting position against the worn denim covering his muscled thigh.

“Oh, uh… thank you,” you answer quietly, giving him a meek little smile as you avert your gaze again. You swear you catch him giving you a once-over as you look away, probably enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

“You’re welcome, baby. I’m Joel, by the way, not sure if you figured that one out yet or not.”

“Y– yeah, I know. It’s really nice to meet you, I– I’m a huge fan, actually.”

Why did you fucking say that? 

“Oh, are ya, now? Tha’s cute, I appreciate it, darlin’.” 

His close proximity, the charming southern twang in his voice and the names he calls you, the way he looks, the way he smells, it makes you want to crawl out of your own skin, the way it all sets you aflame. You almost wish the driver would start up some uncomfortable small talk with you, just to save you from embarrassing yourself any more in front of the man whose songs you know every word to, could recite them all back to him now if he asked.

You don’t say anything in response to him, just fumble through a smile and nod while you fiddle with your necklace. 

Joel lets a few minutes of silence pass while you look out the window, watching downtown Austin come into view. Taking a moment to look you over proper, he tries to absorb all of your little details and file them away for safekeeping. He notices the cross-shaped piece of silver between your fingers, and wonders what it might say about you. He rakes his eyes over your figure, covered by your baggy clothes, and curses them for hiding what he’s sure is a body made up of pretty curves and soft skin. He hopes he’ll get to see them sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, he continues to make conversation. “S’ what kinda guitar you got back there?”

“Huh?” Snapped out of your trance, you whip your head around to face him again.

“Saw you loadin’ your guitar into the back. Whaddya play?”

“Oh, um… Fender Stratocaster. She’s all white, I call her Angel.” 

He smiles to himself, releasing a light chuckle through his nose. Shy girl with a crucifix and a guitar she named Angel... “Good choice. ‘S a pretty guitar for a pretty girl.”

Surprised by his compliment, you release a girlish giggle in response. “Th– thank you.”

He’s flirting with you, right? Is Joel Miller fucking flirting with you right now?

You wonder if he can feel the scorching heat radiating off your skin, if he’s doing this on purpose, or if this is just how frustratingly charming he is all the time.

“Sweet lil’ thing…” he mumbles to himself under his breath, head turned towards his own window as the car comes to a stop in front of the downtown warehouse.

Joel opens his own door to get out and the driver opens yours, and as soon as your lace-up boots touch the pavement, Joel is handing you your guitar case from the trunk. You offer him a flustered “thank you”, and he returns it with a confident “welcome, darlin’”. The brief brushing of the both of your fingers during the transfer of the case has your knees threatening to buckle.

Once the two of you are safely on the sidewalk, the driver pulls away, and Joel places a large hand on your lower back as he guides you to the building’s entrance. He opens the door for you, of course he does, and you can feel his stare on your ass as you walk inside. When the door shuts behind you, his hand is on your back again, leading you across the concrete floor of the industrial structure to another set of doors.

“Your guys are already here, and the rest o’ mine are, too. They’re real excited to meet you, sweetheart.”

You give him a light laugh in reply, unable to really formulate any kind of coherent sentence with his hand on you. His touch feels like it might burn straight through your thick leather jacket, brand the imprint of his fingers and palm into your skin forever. 

“‘M serious, baby. We were just blown away by your record, really. Y’ got a beautiful voice, sound like a goddamn angel… You sound that pretty in person, too?”

The question almost makes you choke on your own spit, which prompts him to smirk in response and give a little huff through his nose. Jesus, he’s fucking forward. Is this how it’s going to be all morning, for the next few months? Joel uses his cocky bastard rockstar charisma to get you all flustered and nervous, and then gets off on watching you stumble over yourself?

“Oh, um… I like to think so. Guess we’ll find out in a bit, won’t we?” 

You’re trying your damnedest to get better at his game. He’s your coworker now, for fuck’s sake, and you’ll have to think of him as such if you’re gonna make it through this whole thing alive. Not the man whose voice kept you company when it felt like nobody gave a shit about you, not the man whose posters you had ripped from stolen magazines and hidden under your bed, and certainly not the man who you had dreamt for years of meeting someday, wondering if he’d think you were pretty or interesting or cool. You have a job to do, and you’re gonna show everyone what you’re made of, charming pet names and killer smiles be damned.

He removes his hand from its place on your back to open the next set of doors for you, revealing a large rehearsal space already set up with lighting rigs, a sound system, and a dark backdrop with that familiar moth logo spread out across the expanse of the material. You quickly spot Eugene’s signature drum set perched on a platform towards the back of the makeshift stage, sporting that same illustration of the band’s namesake on the kickdrum. Jesse’s rhythm guitar and Tommy’s bass are set on their stands on either side of what you conclude to be Joel’s mic stand, adjusted for his towering height. His own red-trimmed black Cort is propped up behind it, the same signature guitar you’ve seen him play in countless music videos and recordings of live performances.

Your own three supporting band members are sitting together around a small card table in the corner of the space, and you feel much more at ease already knowing you’re not totally alone in this. Before you can make your way over to them, your name is being called in a familiar charming drawl, and you turn to find Tommy making his way towards you with Eugene and Jesse in tow. 

The men each take their turns introducing themselves to you and extending their hands for you to shake, offering friendly smiles and a kind word about your music, or how grateful they are that you agreed to fill in for their previous flaky opener.

“She was just tellin’ me in the car all about how huge of a fan she is, weren’t you, baby?” Joel teases.

“Oh! Well, y’know–” you stall, looking for something to say while trying to play off your embarrassment.

“Don’t let him pick on ya, sweetheart,” Tommy interrupts. “Hope he didn’t hassle ya too much on the ride over, guy practically insisted on seein’ that you got here okay. You’ll catch on real quick that my older brother don’t typically take ‘no’ for an answer.” He claps Joel on the shoulder as he banters, who seems to stiffen next to you. When you chance a look up at his face, his hard expression is difficult to read. You swear that his hand, now returned to its previous resting position on your back, pulls you just a bit closer to his side at Tommy’s words.

You attempt to break the awkward tension with a friendly giggle. “Well, I appreciated the thought. And he’s right, y’all are pretty much the reason I’m even here right now, so… I’m real excited to be playing with you guys.”

“We’re excited to have ya, sugar, that’s for goddamn sure,” Tommy compliments, and the other men hum in agreement.

“Ready whenever you are, gentlemen!” The sound engineer calls out, and you step back from Joel as the other three band members leave your little group to take their places on the rehearsal stage. 

“Why don’t you pull up a chair, baby, gimme somethin’ pretty to look at, yeah?” Joel says, voice low enough for only you to hear. He flashes you a wink as he makes his way to his awaiting guitar, the instrument almost as devilish as he is.

His head stays turned to watch you even as he walks, stare lingering until he sees you reach for a nearby unoccupied plastic chair. Though his request had once again sent a flustered heat to your cheeks, you can’t help but obey him, remembering Tommy’s remark about Joel not liking to take “no” for an answer. You wonder what he meant by that, why Joel didn’t seem to like that aspect of his personality being the punchline of what you thought to be a relatively harmless joke. For now, you do as he asks, and he seems to like that.

A disjointed assortment of cymbal crashes and rapid-fire plucks of tuning guitar strings converge at once when Joel gives a permissive nod back to Eugene, who counts him in to kick off the runthrough of their set.

The confidence you’d been trying to muster as a defense against Joel’s cocky teasing (flirting?) quickly dissipates as the sound of one of their more recent hits floods the room, completely consuming your senses. In all of your reasons to be anxious about the premise of meeting Death’s Head, performing with them, touring with them, you had somehow forgotten that the experience would include watching them play live and in person, in front of your own two fucking eyes.

The front-and-center position of the chair that you’re perched on makes you feel like you’re at your own personal concert, like you’re the only one in the room with them right now, the only person in the whole world aside from them. 

You bring a shaky hand up to hide your dopey grin that’s formed of its own volition, reminding yourself that you’re a professional, god dammit. You wish you could get up to dance and sing along the way you’ve done on a few too many whiskey-tipsy nights alone in your apartment, but you keep your limbs still, anyway.

A certain pair of hazel eyes, you’ve just noticed, are attempting to burn a hole straight through your skull. Your stomach lurches at the split second of eye contact, the focused look on his face now seared onto the backs of your eyelids as you try to blink it away. You flit your gaze onto Joel’s tattooed hands instead, the way they expertly strum out the chords that accompany the notes he sings. God, his voice, you had forgotten about that, too. The way it might sound in person, the way it might infiltrate your entire body and soul, the way its vibrating quality is currently snaking its way into your jeans.

Over the course of the next three minutes, it all begins to culminate in an effect you hadn’t thought to anticipate, one that has you crossing your legs and subtly shifting your hips in your seat. Biting a nail, you snap your eyes back up to Joel’s face again, the lyrics he sings now coated in the satisfied grin he wears. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, the smug bastard. He quickly raises his brows, a gesture that communicates a wordless that’s what I thought, and lets the final chord of the opener ring out for a few seconds before cutting it off with a sharp slide of his calloused hand.

You shrug off your leather jacket, the room having become entirely too warm to need it anymore, and the movement causes you to feel the dampness that had formed in your panties over the course of the song. Joel finally removes his eyes from you to take a swig of water, and you take the opportunity to collect yourself. Inhaling a centering breath, you adjust your top and brush your hair off your neck, trying not to think about how thoroughly fucked you are.

–

The next hour and a half of their rehearsal continues to play out in a similar fashion: you attempt to hide your girlish excitement as you get to bear witness to another live performance of a song you’ve memorized all the words to, while Joel acts like he’s playing each and every one of them specifically for you. He shows off, it gets you flustered, and you repeat this little call and response of yours until their set ends, and suddenly it’s your turn. The band’s tour manager materializes among the four of them, clapping each member on the back and bestowing his permission for them to call it a day. 

Your shoulders release some tension at the prospect of not having Joel’s eyes on you while you rehearse, until you tune back into the conversation happening just a few feet in front of you.

“Y’all are welcome to stick around if you want, but I’m sure you boys would probably like to get some rest,” the manager says, to which three of the men grumble some affirming response as they begin to pack up their equipment. The remaining member, the one whose personal mission it is to get under your skin, voices his plan for the rest of the day.

“Think I just might take y’ up on that… Lil’ lady was such an attentive audience member for us, only feels right for me to return the favor. That okay with you, darlin’?”

He’s looking at you now, and you do your best to suppress the fresh wave of nerves that just plummeted into your stomach at his words. In the steadiest voice you can muster, you reply, “Sure, fine by me,” and offer him a sweet little smile for good measure. As if he really needs your permission. 

You can still feel Joel’s stare on you as you retrieve Angel from her case and swing the strap around your body, adorned with a pattern of embroidered moths. Joel is still positioned behind the mic stand as you make your way over to him, and you pretend to fuss with a loose thread in hopes that he’ll spare you from whatever smartass comment you’re sure he’s got at the ready.

Of course, he isn’t so merciful.

“Like the moths, real pretty. You pick that one out cause o’ me?” He comments as he eyes you up and helps to lower the mic stand to your shorter height.

You can’t lie to him, because he’s right. How is he always fucking right? On your sixteenth birthday, when your mother had given in to your only wish to let you pick out a guitar from the music store downtown, you had chosen the strap with the glass green luna moths because it had reminded you of him, of Death’s Head. You opt to answer him with the abridged version of that story.

“Um, not really. Mostly just thought it was pretty.”

He hums, “Sure, baby,” and lets you have this one. 

He locks the stand into place as your own band members begin to warm up behind you, and rubs a hand across your upper back. “All set, gimme a good show, yeah?” He throws another wink your way as he crosses the room in long strides to lean against the back wall, tanned arms crossed in front of his broad chest and lips pulled into an anticipatory smirk.

He’s gonna be the fucking end of you, you’re sure of it. 

–

Joel watches your delicate hands as they unfold the setlist you had stored in your back pocket and place it on the ground in front of you. Your chest rises and falls against your white t-shirt, slowly, and he’s certain that the calming technique is a result of his doing. He lets out a light chuckle at that, satisfied in the way he’s been able to rile you up all morning. It’s cute, he thinks, how you struggle to play it off, trying so desperately to get him to take you seriously. This has gotta be some kind of karmic repayment for a good deed he did without his own knowledge, the way the universe has dropped this malleable little thing right into his lap. He’s gonna enjoy playing with you, in more ways than one. 

A sharp chord suddenly pierces the silence of the rehearsal room, and the siren-like tone of your voice follows shortly after. He’s gotta admit, you’ve got a set of pipes on you, that’s for damn sure. Your voice is strong, a little more rasp to it than expected, as it emanates from somewhere deep within you. For how meek and mild you’ve been all morning, doing your best impression of a professional musician, you seem to perform as if you’ve been one all your life. It’s probably helping that you’ve got your eyes closed so as not to be distracted by the way he’s staring at you, at your hands, as they pluck at the strings and dance across the fretboard.

Fuck, what those little fingers would look like wrapped around his cock, the shaft of him so thick that they wouldn’t be able to meet each other. It’s his turn now to adjust himself in an attempt to hide the effect you’re having on him. Maybe he’s grateful that your eyes are closed, after all.

It’s then, as you run through your set, that Joel begins to feel a certain pull towards you. Something magnetic, exciting, something that makes his dick begin to swell and his pupils blow wide. He thought he might have felt it when you got into the car with him earlier this morning, but he’s sure of it now.

He wants you to be his. He wants to touch you, taste you, take care of you.

Poor lil’ thing, he thinks to himself, this industry is gonna chew you up and spit you out, and you got no idea.

You need a guiding hand, maybe a firm one, from time to time, he doesn’t know yet. What he does know is that you’re pretty, it’s easy to make you squirm, and you idolize him. He likes that, even if he shouldn’t, the fact that he’s been playing sold out shows since before you were even born, and he’s got the decades worth of framed tour posters and platinum records hung up on the walls of his house to prove it. It feels like he’s spent a hundred lifetimes in this business, but your time is only just beginning. So fresh-faced and inexperienced, this shy girl with a crucifix and a guitar she named Angel.

Your eyes remain closed throughout most of the next 45 minutes. Every once in a while, you flutter them open, your big doe eyes stealing a glance at his face. You flit them across his expression a few times, quickly, as if you’re seeking some kind of approval in the quirk of his lips, in the way he observes you from underneath his brows. Not wanting to lose focus for too long, you always close them again, and quietly scold yourself for even caring what he thinks. He likes to be a little unreadable, just to see if he can get you to work for it, to beg for it.

He’s getting ahead of himself now. 

When the last lyric of your closing song has finished echoing around the space, he watches as you blink your eyelids open and become the same shrinking violet that he had first introduced himself to not long ago. It’s like you had only just remembered that there were people in the room with you that entire time, this modest little flower who had picked up a guitar some time ago and accidentally became a budding rockstar. 

–

When you catch his stare again, he does grant you the satisfaction of an impressed smile. He shifts his jaw in an effort to conceal it, but it’s there. It ignites a warmth low in your belly, and you step back from the microphone, your fingers finding that cross-shaped charm around your neck once more as your gaze finds the floor.

“Was that, um… was that okay? I mean, should I run it through again?” you ask the tour manager, who had been only half paying attention the entire time, the papers spread out in front of him evidently much more interesting than watching you play.

“Huh? Oh, sounded pretty good to me but, if you wanna, go ahead.”

Joel notices how dejected the half-assed answer makes you, how you shift your feet as you look back at your band for direction. He pushes himself off the wall, rolling his eyes and muttering a “Jesus, man,” as he stalks past the guy, making his way up to you.

“Well, I was right, y’ do sound that pretty in person. Just like I thought you would… got one suggestion for ya though, ‘fore you give it another go.”

You nod up at him, eager to accept his critique.

“Eyes on me this time, yeah? Will you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah, sure, I’ll try,” you answer, unable to form a more intelligent response, his close proximity and the low tone of his voice causing your own to catch in your throat.

“You’ll try? Or you will? Jus’ want you to be confident up there, darlin’, tha’s all.”

“I-I will.”

“Good girl.” He swipes at your chin with his thumb and pointer, and doesn’t miss the hitch of your breath and the way your lashes flutter at the small bit of praise. He adds them to his running list of things to make note of for later.

You finally exhale when he turns to resume his position against the back wall, and the movement of his shoulders as he walks reminds you of the strut of a lion, all shifting muscle and dominance. Combined with the yellow-green glint of his eye and the flash of his canines when he smiles, he truly does resemble a predator, and you’ve never felt more like prey. You’ve known him only a couple of hours at this point, yet you feel ensnared by him, trapped beneath his paws, ready to surrender to anything he asks of you. Especially if he’ll call you a good girl for doing so.

You haven’t had much (favorable) experience with boys, let alone men, having grown up under your conservative mother’s watchful eye. But something about the cocky way he teases you, the way he acts as if you’re already his, has you feeling hazy and far away. You find yourself suddenly having to suppress rapidfire thoughts of what else he might command of you, then follow with that coveted praise. On your knees for me, or show me those pretty tits, or lemme feel that soaked pussy, followed by good girl, good girl, good girl when you obey without question. 

Blinking yourself out of your daze, you find that you’ve been staring at him for at least a few seconds now. He holds eye contact with you like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him, like it doesn’t make you want to jump out of your skin.

“Whenever you’re ready, darlin’,” he permits, and you take a steadying breath before beginning your set again.

You do your best to keep your gaze fixed onto his this time, but you can’t help it when you have to let it stray every once in a while when it gets to be too much. About halfway through your set, when you accidentally examine the expanse of his chest for a measure too long, he gives a quick snap of his fingers before pointing two of them up at his face. When you flick your eyes back to where he wants them, his expression is stern. He raises his brows and juts his chin to the side–What’d I just say? You nod in response–I’m sorry–which seems to soften him, and you continue playing.

When you finish your closer, you feel a bit more heated and out of breath than you did the first time, undoubtedly owing some of it to Joel’s little challenge. He saunters back up to you, grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler on his way, and offers it to you, cap already loosened so your tired fingers don’t have to struggle.

“How’d it feel that time, hm? Better?” He watches your lips as you take a swig, then locks onto the smooth column of your throat as you swallow.

“Was a little harder, but… Yeah, better. Thank you, Joel.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’... See what happens when y’ listen to me? Suggest you make it a habit.” He says that last part a little playfully, but there’s something hidden in his voice that tells you he isn’t entirely kidding. 

“Y-yeah, I will.”

“Good… Well, I think your set’s ready for openin’ night, ‘less you feel like runnin’ it through some more. ‘S up to you, though, sweetheart.” You take another sip of water as he speaks, licking your lips of the moisture afterward. A muscle in his jaw ticks at the flick of your tongue, like he’s holding himself back from pouncing.

“I mean, if you think it’s okay, then–”

“‘S more than okay, darlin’,” he interrupts. “Sound pretty fuckin’ perfect to me... You’re really somethin’ else, y’know that?” Joel takes a step forward, closing the space between you by a couple of inches. He reaches a hand towards you, and for a brief moment, you think he’s going for a lock of your hair. His fingers change direction at the last second, sliding your guitar strap between his thumb and forefinger instead, admiring it. 

“Oh, well, I dunno about that–” you quietly half-chuckle, looking at where his thick fingers are rubbing the silky embroidery between them.

He cuts you off again, gently nudging your chin back up to him with a hooked pointer. “I do… Prettiest goddamn voice I heard in a long time. Play like a fuckin’ pro, too.” He sounds serious, and it might be the first instance all day where he’s trying to be sincere instead of toying with you.

“Th-thank you…” you breathe out, accepting his compliment. The corner of his mouth twitches, pleased that you’ve given into him.

Tha’s right, be good for me, lemme praise you.

“Ready to call it a day, then, darlin’?”

“Uh huh, sure,” you agree. And it’s becoming easy, second nature, saying yes to him.

“A’right, then. I’ll let y’all wrap it up here, I’ll be waitin’ for ya in the car out front when you’re ready, ‘kay?”

Your band is more than happy to end the day earlier than expected, all of you feeling good about your sound, the songs you’ll be playing, how everything flows together. They’re all good guys, a few years older than you, kind of like the big brothers you never had. The group of you are a well-oiled machine at this point, having played your regional tour and recorded your album together. You know you have nothing to worry about for the tour’s opening night, not really, even after only two run throughs. 

But as you place Angel back into her case, closing the top and clicking the locks shut, you realize how the morning is ending the same way it began. In a car with Joel Miller, his wolfish gaze swallowing you whole while you try and fail to maintain some of your dignity. It’s hard to tell if the heavy weight in your stomach is because he makes you feel eager or afraid. You think it might be both, and that he might want it to be. He excites you, scares you, makes you want desperately to impress him and not give a fuck about what he thinks all at the same time. It all begins to feel a little too much, too real, as you try desperately to recall Cat’s soothing reassurances from the day before that everything would be okay.

When everyone has finished packing up their equipment and exchanging “see ya later”s, you pull your jacket back over your shoulders and find your way to the front entrance, where Joel is waiting for you once again in the black Suburban with the tinted windows. The driver takes Angel from you and opens your door just like he did this morning, and you shimmy into your seat. 

“There she is, the lil’ rockstar…” Joel muses as you finish situating yourself. He leans further back in his seat, adjusting his hips to accommodate for those long legs. All you do in response is  force a giggle and roll your eyes, picking at your nails in your lap. Your worried mind is quickly beginning to drift elsewhere as the car starts the journey back to your apartment.

“Hey now, don’t you roll your eyes at me, darlin’. Or we’re gonna have a real problem on our hands.” He chuckles, continuing his little game with you, where his prize is your shy smile and stuttering words. But you can’t bring yourself to play along, not with the way you’re struggling to even out your breath, your nerves winning their battle to get the best of you.

“Hey… y’ alright? Wha’s the matter, thought we were havin’ fun, hm?” He places an inked hand on your thigh as a comforting gesture, but it makes those nerves jump into your throat more than anything.

“I just, um… Guess I’m just a lil’ anxious, is all. For the tour and everything,” you manage, focusing on the back of his hand. He doesn’t press you to look at him, this time.

“Yeah, gathered as much… ‘S funny, the difference between how y’ act around me and how y’ act up there. ‘Specially durin’ that one song you played in the middle, got real passionate about it, kinda fiery... Y’ know the one?”

“Y-yeah, I think so…” You’re hesitant to answer, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“Phew, lemme tell ya. Second time around, thought you were tryin’ to kill me with that stare, all that anger in your voice. Could feel it rattlin’ my damn chest. Was real impressive, baby. Hate to be the fucker you wrote that one about, tha’s for damn sure.”

“Yeah,” is all you offer. 

He can tell it might be a sore subject, but he wants to know you. Needs to know you, if he’s gonna be taking care of you like he wants to. He presses on, “So, uh… who is he? The guy you wrote it about? Shitty boyfriend or somethin’?”

You huff through your nose at that. “My dad, actually.”

“Shit… your daddy, huh?” He whistles low, rubs a hand over his beard. “Tha’s tough.”

The nickname he uses sends a pang of heat down your spine, and you’re reminded of the letters adorning the knuckles of Joel’s left hand, still lightly clasped around your upper thigh. You swear it’s placed a bit higher up your leg now than it was a few moments ago.

You only give him a nod and hum in response, your lips pulled into a line around your teeth.

“Message received... Well, fuck ‘im. He ever comes around again, you let me know. Take care of ‘im for ya, hit him where the sun don’t shine.”

Your pursed expression breaks into a grin, and you giggle at the imagery of his threat. You finally settle your eyes on his face, and find that he’s smiling at you, the silver ring piercing through his bottom lip glinting in the late-morning light.

“Oh, she likes the sound o’ that huh? Yeah, I’ll bet… Well, anyway, what I was tryin’ to say is, you got nothin’ to be nervous about, sweetheart. I can promise you that. You’re a force o’ nature, you are. ‘N I don’t wanna hear nothin’ from you sayin’ otherwise, we clear?”

His complimentary words and joking conversation set you a little more at ease, and it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt with him all day. But it’s making you dizzy, all the back and forth between teasing you then being sweet on you, flirting with you then getting serious again. It’s hard to know what he truly wants from you, or what you want from him.

“Thank you, Joel. It means a lot.”

He makes an accepting noise, bows his head and gives your thigh a pat before removing his hand from you. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. 

He lets the rest of the ride pass in relative silence, save for his occasional hum of a few bars from one of your other songs, his fingers drumming on his thigh to accompany it. You keep your head turned to face the window so he doesn’t see you struggle to hide your proud grin, in utter disbelief that your teenage dreams have led you to Joel Miller getting one of your own songs stuck in his head.

You don’t want him to stop, so you don’t let on that you’ve even caught it. There’s something about you having wormed your way into his brain that you enjoy. It makes you feel closer to him, like maybe you’re affecting him the same way he’s affecting you. But you’re probably reading too far into things, trying to convince yourself that he’ll ever think of you as anything more than something fun to for him to poke and prod and play with. 

–

Your fantasies aren’t too dissimilar from that sentiment later that night, try as you might to push them away. Spread out on your tummy in your lonely double bed, your sheets are askew and your blankets have been thrown onto the floor thanks to this insufferable late autumn heat wave. The temperature had started rocketing up earlier this afternoon, and had only gotten worse as the evening progressed. You’ve tossed and turned for what must be hours now, sleep shorts now long discarded and tank top hiked halfway up your stomach. You’ve experimented with a million and one different positions in an effort to get comfortable, but they’ve all been useless, your ceiling fan’s incessant whirring making a pitiful attempt to keep up with the heat. 

As you shift your hips one last time, thinking that this next try will surely be the one that lulls you to sleep, you finally catch on to the dampness that hasn’t really left your core all day. Maybe that’s part of what’s making it impossible to get any rest: you need some relief.

You flip yourself onto your back, trailing a hand delicately down your abdomen, fingers skipping over the band of your panties until they reach the wet spot blooming in the gusset of them. With two fingers pressed firmly into your clothed clit, you buck your hips a few times and shudder at the sensation. You live alone, but your years of shame living under your mother’s roof still prompt you to stifle your needy whimpers. You’re already so sensitive, have been all day, and you can’t help when your mind immediately drifts to him.

It’s always been Joel, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. He’s someone you’ve always looked up to as a musician, but you’d be lying if you said you’ve never thought about looking up to him in the literal sense, knelt at his feet.

The dominant charm he possesses is so natural you almost hate him for it. The way he takes up space, commands a room, broad shoulders and long legs and wide chest. Everything about him is big, even the parts you haven’t seen yet. His big hands, fuck, what they would feel like pressing against your aching cunt instead of your own slender ones. The thought makes your fingers rub faster, the movement of your pelvis becoming more frantic.

You hastily pull your panties to the side and slip one finger in, then two, pumping them in and out as the wet squelch of your juices bounce off the walls of your bedroom. You can never quite reach that sacred spot deep inside on your own, but there’s not a doubt in your mind that Joel would be able to without even trying.

You imagine the feeling of his expert fingers scissoring you open in place of yours, stretching you wide in preparation for what you’re certain is a well above average cock. You tried not to stare too obviously today, but if the sizable bulge he was sporting while watching you play was any indication, he’d be a struggle to fit inside. 

As you feel the knot in your belly grow tighter with every thrust of your fingers and cant of your hips, you find yourself thinking that you want him to make it fit, want him to tease you for having such a tight little cunt and praise you for being so eager to take all of him. Ever since he slipped you that good girl this morning, you had found yourself chasing after his praise for the rest of your time with him. You want him to tell you how good, how pretty, how special you are, while he pushes his length inside and gives you the first satisfying fuck of your life.

Despite your shyness and your modest clothing and that little charm around your neck, you aren’t a virgin, truth be told. You had lost it a year ago now, when you decided to say “fuck it” and took some scrawny bartender back to your apartment just to get it over with. He lasted all of thirty seconds, and the whole thing was entirely underwhelming, to say the least. You had kicked him out shortly after he had the nerve to ask if you came, and got yourself off thinking of someone bigger, older, with more tattoos and a deadlier charm and a dirtier mouth.

A few more shuddering breaths and desperate movements of your fingers later, you’re coming with Joel’s name on your lips, trying to conjure his voice in your mind saying there ya go, good girl, comin’ so pretty just for me.

As you float down from your high, you feel a little filthy for having such thoughts about someone you now had to work with for the next couple of months. But it’s not like you would ever actually act on them, everything would be fine if they just stayed locked away in the dark recesses of your mind. You’re sure he doesn’t see you that way, anyway. He was flirty today, sure, but that’s just how he is, it can’t possibly mean anything. It’s all just some big power trip, an ego boost, getting you worked up just to remind himself that he’s still got it. 

You find your way to the bathroom in the dark of night, cleaning yourself up with a damp cloth and splashing some cool water onto your face. Your apartment still feels like a sauna, and you’re now covered in an additional layer of sweat, but feeling too exhausted to do anything about it at this hour. You fall back onto your rumpled sheets and close your eyes, trying desperately not to think of what Joel might be doing right now.

–

As chance would have it, Joel is much in the same position as you were just moments ago. The silk sheets on his king size bed do a better job of keeping him cool than your shitty Walmart bedding, but his skin is still scorching as he fucks into his fist and tugs on his heavy balls. His face is screwed up in concentration, eyes shut tightly as he imagines it’s your hands instead of his, working him over while you look up at him through your long lashes. He thinks about your glossy lips formed into a pout, eyebrows knit as you ask him if it feels good, if you’re doing okay, so that he can whisper doin’ so well for me, such a good job, pretty girl, those lil’ hands fuckin’ made to be wrapped around my cock.

Even shut away in the spacious main bedroom of his million dollar home, platinum records and Grammys lining the shelves, all that’s on his mind now is the sexy little wannabe rockstar he’s going on tour with. His tattooed chest heaves as he gets closer to his release, grunting incoherent praises as his tip gets wetter and angrier.

God, how bad he had wanted rip those baggy jeans from your body so he could drink from you, suck hard on your clit like a piece of candy so he could make you forget all about your nerves and doubts, tear that crucifix from your delicate neck and have you worship him as your new deity. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing, baby, just lemme take care of you, lemme make you mine. You pray to me now.

He wonders if you’ve ever sucked a cock before, if he’d get to be the one to walk you through it, train your lips and your throat to open wide and take him inside. He spits on his hand once, twice, three times, using it to simulate the feeling of your warm wet mouth on his dick, so inexperienced but so fucking eager to make him proud. He wonders if you’d let him come in your mouth, then decides you’d probably do just about anything he asks, because it’s him doing the asking. 

The thought is too much to bear, and he explodes all over his fist, his belly, his sheets, groaning your name and a disjointed string of expletives. 

Unlike you, he’s wide awake now, and takes a cold shower to rinse himself of his spend and to bring his body temperature back down from boiling. Even in the freezing water, his cock hangs long and heavy between his legs, aching for something tight and hot to sink into. 

You’re gonna ruin him, fuck.

He decides he’s had enough of the cold when it starts to make him shiver, and he steps out, rubbing a towel messily over his hair and body, just to dry himself enough so that he won’t drip all over the expensive marble tiling of his bathroom floor. He pulls on a clean pair of briefs and pads back to his bedroom, yanking the ruined sheets off the bed and collapsing onto his mattress, now covered only by a black silk fitted sheet. He’ll deal with them tomorrow, or rather, his housekeepers will. The ones he’s able to pay for thanks to the millions of records he’s sold. 

Letting the air conditioning dry the moisture from his skin, he adjusts the positioning of his head on the pillow a few times until his eyes land on something gold on the shelf, shining in the moonlight: Death’s Head’s Grammy for Best Rock Song, or one of them, anyway. Etched in gold on the award’s black pedestal are letters that spell out “Kiss it Better”, one of the band’s first hit singles, the one that launched them into the rock n’ roll limelight. He owes the success of that song to its distinctive intro, and he’s proud to have come up with the idea for it himself. He recorded it years ago now in some forgettable venue’s filthy excuse for a dressing room with an aspiring groupie whose name has long been ejected from his memory, replaced with yours.

He gets the idea then, begins his plot for how he’s going to get you on your knees for him, begging and whining. He knows that you’re familiar with the song already, if you’re as big of a fan as you claim to be. And when he asks on the first night of the tour if you’ll perform their last-minute opener with them, help him out with the intro, he knows you’ll say yes. So good, so eager, so desperate to make a good impression and prove yourself to him. 

His spent dick starts to kick up again at the mere thought, but he ignores it for now. He’ll have plenty of opportunity to get what he wants after he shows you what it’s like to hand yourself over to him, to surrender to Daddy.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123

[motownfiction]

on the stage

Sam claps louder than anybody at the end of Charlie’s first piano concert in college. He even claps louder than their mother. At the end of the show, when the Doyles, Carrie, and Daniel decide to have dinner at a Denny’s nearby, Sam wraps his arm around Charlie and says nobody else gets to take him in their car.

“Made a promise to this kid that I’d drive him anywhere, any time,” Sam says loudly. “I’m gonna hold to it tonight.”

They’re on their way to the Denny’s now. Sam’s blaring “Don’t Stop Me Now,” playing the dashboard like a piano at the red light. He looks over at Charlie, who’s pretending not to enjoy it.

“Only thing that would have made that concert better would have been this,” he says to Charlie. “Then again, you sure did make a supersonic man out of ‘Strange Meadow Lark.’ You know, if I ever had a daughter, that’s what I would name her? Strange Meadow Lark Doyle.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Charlie says, “especially not if you were naming her after my performance.”

“And I would be. You were great tonight, kid. You really were.”

Charlie half smiles. They’re both pretending they don’t know what’s going on. It’s been a year already, but Sam can’t stop overcompensating. Queen ends, and the DJ plays “Tiny Dancer.” Sam immediately turns the dial to another station. He’s never told Charlie what that song means to him now, but he figures he doesn’t have to. The lyrics speak for themselves.

“Thanks,” Charlie says. “I was freaking out.”

“Couldn’t tell. You were great. I think the other jazz band guys might’ve been jealous.”

“Only because I’m tall.”

“That’s reason enough.”

They’re quiet for a little while. When Sam stops at another red light, Charlie asks him a question he’s surprised he’s never asked before.

“Do you ever wish you’d have done it?”

Sam snorts.

“Charlie, I’ve ‘done it’ a lot,” he says. “Since before you were even in high school. You remember Steph.”

“No, not … do you ever wish you’d have learned how to play something? Instead of just knowing all about the other music stuff? Like … don’t you ever wish it was you on the stage?”

Sam’s blood runs a little cold. He’s thought of that before. Himself, a rockstar with all the knowledge of an ethnomusicologist. He’d be like the Scorcese of rock ‘n’ roll, which is funny, because Scorsese is kind of the himself of rock ‘n’ roll, too. He’s thought about what it would be like to play the guitar … to write what he’s feeling instead of just feeling it. But at the end of the day, it’s just not right. At the end of the day, he’s not the guy who wants thousands of screaming fans surrounding him. He’s not the guy who needs it.

But maybe … if that was what would grab a girl like Carrie … maybe he …

No.

So, Sam shakes his head.

“Never,” he lies. “I just like listening to you.”

Charlie nods, and for the first time in probably his whole life, Sam knows that he understands more than meets the eye. For the first time in his whole life, Charlie can see the depth beyond.

Sam wishes he could be proud of that, too.

(part of @nosebleedclub november challenge -- day 7! i know i'm horrifically behind already, but you should see all the dissertation progress i made this week. here's hoping i have it in me to keep it up!)

[brookston]

Holidays 9.1

Holidays

American Chess Day

Arts Day (Bardo)

Back to Hogwarts Day

Bahti Meskerem (Eritrea)

Building and Code Staff Appreciation Day

Carrington Event Day

Chicken Boy Day

Childhood Cancer Awareness Day (Tennessee)

Constitution Day (Slovakia)

Creation Day

Daffodil Day (New Zealand)

Day of Knowledge (Estonia, Russia)

Disaster Prevention Day (Japan)

Draft Horse Day

Emma M. Nutt Day (a.k.a. Nutt Day)

Flag Day (Honduras)

Footy Colors Day (Australia)

Ginger Cat Appreciation Day

Global Talent Acquisition Day [1st Wednesday]

Human Resources Professional Day (South Dakota)

International Cap Classique Day

International Day of Awareness of the Dolphins of Taiji

International Naalbinding Day

International Neil Diamond Day

International Primate Day

International Trade Union Action Day for Peace

International Women in Cyber Day

Journalist Day (Taiwan)

Kama Sutra Day

Kanto Earthquake Memorial Day (Japan)

Knowledge Day (Armenia, Estonia, Russia, Ukraine)

Letter Appreciation Day

Lose Your Virginity Day

Mary Had a Little Lamb Day

Meteorological Autumn begins (Northern Hemisphere)

Meteorological Spring begins (Southern Hemisphere)

National Acne Positivity Day

National Boykin Spaniel Day

National Child Identity Theft Awareness Day

National Disaster Prevention Day (Japan)

National Forgiveness Day

National Homecare Day of Action

National Hotel Employee Day

National Little Black Dress Day

National Marmoset Day

National No Rhyme (Nor Reason) Day

National Police K-9 Day

901 Day (Tennessee)

No Music Day (Nigeria)

Onam (Hindu harvest festival; India)

Partridge Day (UK)

Pink Cadillac Day

Presidential Message Day (Mexico)

Random Acts of Kindness Day (NZ)

Respect the Drive Day

Revolution Day (Libya; 1969)

Rites of Moawita (Elder Scrolls)

Save Japan’s Dolphins Day

Sing A Silly Song In Bed Day

Teacher’s Day (Singapore)

Tourist Day

Toy Tips Executive Toy Test Day

Trout Day (French Republic)

Veteran’s Day (Poland)

Wattle Day (Australia)

White Rabbit Day

World CLL Day

World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation

World Day of the Fingerprint

World Emotional Trauma Awareness Day

World Freestyle Football Day

World Letter Writing Day

World PCOS Day of Unity

World War Two Anniversary Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Cherry Popover Day

National Burnt Ends Day

National Gyro Day

National Oatloaf Day

National Tofu Day (UK)

Oyster Season begins

1st Friday in September

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Belgian Beer Weekend begins (Belgisch Bierweekend) [1st Friday thru Sunday]

Bring Your Manners To Work Day [1st Friday]

Casual Day (South Africa) [1st Friday]

College Colors Day [Friday nearest 9.1]

Dri-jerbal (Labor Day; Marshall Islands) [1st Friday]

Freddie Mercury’s Montreux Memorial Day begins [Weekend of 1st Friday]

Labor Day Weekend (U.S. & Canada) [Begins Friday before 1st Monday in September]

Benton Neighbor Day (Benton, Missouri)

Britt Draft Horse Show (Britt, Iowa)

Bumbershoot (Seattle, Washington)

Central City Rock 'n' Roll Cruise-in & Concert (Central City, Kentucky)

Cleveland National Air Show (Cleveland, Ohio)

Clothesline Fair (Prairie Grove, Arkansas)

Colombia River Cross Channel Swim (Hood River, Oregon)

Colorado Balloon Classic (Colorado Springs, Colorado)

Commonwheel Labor Day Weekend Arts and Crafts Festival (Manitou Springs, Colorado)

Daniel Boone Pioneer Days (Winchester, Kentucky)

Fort Bridger Rendezvous (Fort Bridger, Wyoming)

Great Bathtub Race (Nome, Alaska)

Great Grove Bed Race (Coconut Grove, Florida)

Harvest Wine Celebration (Livermore, California)

Hog Capital of the World Festival (Kewanee, Illinois)

Hopkinton State Fair (Contoocook, New Hampshire)

Iroquois Arts Festival (Howes Cave, New York)

Johnson City Field Days (Johnson City, New York)

Jubilee Days Festival (Zion, Illinois)

Lifelight Outdoor Music Festival (Worthing, South Dakota)

Mackinac Bridge Walk (St. Ignace, Michigan)

National Championship Chuckwagon Races (Clinton, Arkansas)

National Hard Crab Derby and Fair (Crisfield, Maryland)

National Sweetcorn Festival (Hoopeston, Illinois)

Oatmeal Festival (Bertram/Oatmeal, Texas)

Odyssey Greek Festival (Orange, Connecticut)

On the Waterfront (Rockford, Illinois)

Old Threshers Reunion (Mount Pleasant, Iowa)

Oregon Trail Rodeo (Hastings, Nebraska)

Payson Golden Onion Days (Payson, Utah)

Pennsylvania Arts & Crafts Colonial Festival (Greensburg, Pennsylvania)

Popeye Picnic (Chester, Illinois)

Santa-Cali-Gon Days Festival (Independence, Missouri)

Scandinavian Fest (Budd Lake, New Jersey)

Sta-Bil Nationals Championship Lawn Mower Race (Delaware, Ohio)

Snake River Duck Race (Nome, Alaska)

Taste of Colorado (Denver, Colorado)

Taste of Madison (Madison, Wisconsin)

Totah Festival (Farmington, New Mexico)

Waikiki Roughwater Swim (Honolulu, Hawaii)

Westfest Czech Heritage Festival (West, Texas)

West Virginia Italian Heritage Festival (Clarksburg, West Virginia)

Wisconsin State Cow-Chip Throw (Prairie du Sac, Wisconsin)

Woodstock Fair (Woodstock, Connecticut)

World Championship Barbecue Goat Cook-Off (Brady, Texas)

National Chianti Day [1st Friday]

National Food Bank Day [1st Friday]

National Lazy Mom’s Day [1st Friday]

Wear Teal Day [1st Friday]

Independence Days

Alberta Province Day (Canada; 1905)

Baltia (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Chrisland (Declared; 2015) [unrecognized]

Gymnasium State (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Saskatchewan Province Day (Canada; 1905)

Uzbekistan (a.k.a. Mustaqillik Kuni); from USSR, 1991)

Feast Days

Constantius (Costanzo) of Aquino (Christian; Saint)

Dalton (Positivist; Saint)

David Pendleton Oakerhater (Anglican Communion)

Ecclesiastical New Year (Orthodox Christian)

Feast of Macuilxochitl (5 Flower God; Mexico)

Festival of the Grapevines I: Ariadne (Pagan)

Felix, Donatus, Arontius, Honoratus, Fortunatus, Sabinianus, Septimus, Januarius, Vitalis, Satyrus, abd Repostius, 12 brothers (Christian; Martyrs)

Festival of Juno Regina and Jupiter Liber (Ancient Rome)

Fiacre (France, Ireland; Christian; Saint) [also 8.30]

Firminus II (Christian; Saint)

Gideon the Judge (Christian; Saint)

Giles (Christian; Saint)

Hobbit Remembrance Day (Pastafarian)

Loup (a.k.a. Lupus or Lew) of Sens (Christian; Saint)

Nivard (a.k.a. Nivo; Christian; Saint)

Ramalamadingdong begins (Church of the SubGenius)

Simeon Stylite (Eastern Orthodox)

Sixtus of Reims (Christian; Saint)

Taddeo Zuccari (Artology)

Terentian (a.k.a. Terrence; Christian; Saint)

Uncle Ermisimo (Muppetism)

Verena (Christian; Saint)

Vibiana (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Historically Bad Day (Germany invaded Poland, earthquakes in Iran & Japan & 8 other tragedies) [7of 11]

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Premieres

Address Unknown, by Kathrine Kressmann Taylor (Novel; 1938)

The Aleph, by Jorge Luis Borges (Short Story; 1945)

Arsenic and Old Lace (Film; 1943)

The Autograph Hound (Disney Cartoon; 1939)

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (Film; 1947)

Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins (Novel; 2009) [#2]

Chocolates for Breakfast, by Pamela Moore (Novel; 1956)

Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, by Thomas De Quincey (Autobiography; 1821)

The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen (Novel; 2001)

Crank (Film; 2006)

Dames (Film; 1934)

Dr. Feelgood, by Mötley Crüe (Album; 1989)

Dug Days (Animated TV Series; 2021)

The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje (Novel; 1992)

Ethan Frome, by Edith Wharton (Novel; 1911)

A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway (Novel; 1929)

A Farewell to Kings, by Rush (Album; 1977)

The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, by Dr. Seuss (Children’s Books; 1938)

Hook, Lion and Sinker (Disney Cartoon; 1950)

Honey’s Money (WB MM Cartoon; 1962)

Idiocracy (Film; 2006)

Julius Caesar, by William Shakespeare (Play; 1599)

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov (Novel; 1955)

The Mass Psychology of Fascism, by Wilhelm Reich (Political Book; 1933)

Middlemarch, by George Eliot (Novel; 1871)

The Mighty Hercules (Animated TV Series; 1963)

The Old Man and the Sea (Short Story; 1952)

Outside Providence (Film; 1999)

Peculiar Penguins (Disney Cartoon; 1934)

The Plastics Inventor (Disney Cartoon; 1944)

Private Eyes, by Hall & Oates (Album; 1981)

The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran (Poems; 1923)

Rear Window (Film; 1954)

A Room of One’s Own, by Virginia Woolf (Novel; 1929)

The Slap-Happy Mouse (WB MM Cartoon; 1956)

The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, by John le Carré (Novel; 1963)

The Stepford Wives, by Ira Levin (Novel; 1972)

Haydn String Quartets, Opus 10, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Quartets; 1785)

Swordfishtrombones, by Tom Waits (Album; 1983)

TikTok (Social Media App; 2016)

Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller (Novel; 1934) What a Wonderful World, by Louis Armstrong (Song; 1967)

When Worlds Collide, by Philip Wylie (Novel; 1932)

The Women (Film; 1939)

Worth Dying For, 15th Jack Reacher book, by Lee Child (Novel; 2010)

You Can’t Take It with You (Film; 1938)

Today’s Name Days

Ägidius, Ruth, Verena (Austria)

Damyan, Damyana, Kozma, Kuzman, Simeon, Simona (Bulgaria)

Aron, Egidije, Estera, Jošua, Oliver, Predrag, Šimun, Tamara, Viktor (Croatia)

Jaroslava, Linda, Samuel (Czech Republic)

Ægidius, Theobaldus (Denmark)

Eha, Ehala, Hämarik, Ülar, Ülari, Ülev, Üllar, Üllart, Üllas, Üllo, Ülo (Estonia)

Aaro, Aaron, Pirkka (Finland)

Aaron, Esther, Giles, Goulwen, Jossué, Thierry (France)

Ägidius, Ruth, Verena (Germany)

Anargyros, Argyris, Antigone, Antigoni, Athena, Athina, Damianos, Kosmas, Margarita, Polynike, Polyniki, Symeon (Greece)

Annamária, Egon, Egyed, Tihamér (Hungary)

Caio, Cono, Costanzo, Egidio (Italy)

Austrums, Ilmārs, Iluta, Irisa, Imants, Ingars, Intars, Teobalds, Verena (Latvia)

Burvilė, Egidijus, Gytautas, Gytis, Julijus, Liepa, Tautrimas, Tautrimė (Lithuania)

Ask, Embla, Solveig, Solvor (Norway)

Aaron, Bogusław, Bronisław, Bronisława, Bronisz, Halina, Idzi, Klarysa, Marian, Niegosława, Teobald (Poland)

Dionisie (Romania)

Diana, Drahoslava (Slovakia)

Aarón, Arturo, Ester, Esther, Gil, Josué, Leonor, Oliverio, Simeón, Sixto (Spain)

Aron, Mirjam, Sam, Samuel (Sweden)

Debbie, Deborah, Debra, Edgar, Edgardo, Giles, Josh, Joshua, Josue, Ruth (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 244 of 2024; 121 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 35 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 25 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Geng-Shen), Day 17 (Ren-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 15 Elul 5783

Islamic: 15 Safar 1445

J Cal: 4 Aki; Foursday [4 of 30]

Julian: 19 August 2023

Moon: 96%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 20 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Dalton]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 5 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 72 of 94)

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 11 of 32)

Calendar Changes

September (Gregorian Calendar) [Month 9 of 12]

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 9.1

Holidays

American Chess Day

Arts Day (Bardo)

Back to Hogwarts Day

Bahti Meskerem (Eritrea)

Building and Code Staff Appreciation Day

Carrington Event Day

Chicken Boy Day

Childhood Cancer Awareness Day (Tennessee)

Constitution Day (Slovakia)

Creation Day

Daffodil Day (New Zealand)

Day of Knowledge (Estonia, Russia)

Disaster Prevention Day (Japan)

Draft Horse Day

Emma M. Nutt Day (a.k.a. Nutt Day)

Flag Day (Honduras)

Footy Colors Day (Australia)

Ginger Cat Appreciation Day

Global Talent Acquisition Day [1st Wednesday]

Human Resources Professional Day (South Dakota)

International Cap Classique Day

International Day of Awareness of the Dolphins of Taiji

International Naalbinding Day

International Neil Diamond Day

International Primate Day

International Trade Union Action Day for Peace

International Women in Cyber Day

Journalist Day (Taiwan)

Kama Sutra Day

Kanto Earthquake Memorial Day (Japan)

Knowledge Day (Armenia, Estonia, Russia, Ukraine)

Letter Appreciation Day

Lose Your Virginity Day

Mary Had a Little Lamb Day

Meteorological Autumn begins (Northern Hemisphere)

Meteorological Spring begins (Southern Hemisphere)

National Acne Positivity Day

National Boykin Spaniel Day

National Child Identity Theft Awareness Day

National Disaster Prevention Day (Japan)

National Forgiveness Day

National Homecare Day of Action

National Hotel Employee Day

National Little Black Dress Day

National Marmoset Day

National No Rhyme (Nor Reason) Day

National Police K-9 Day

901 Day (Tennessee)

No Music Day (Nigeria)

Onam (Hindu harvest festival; India)

Partridge Day (UK)

Pink Cadillac Day

Presidential Message Day (Mexico)

Random Acts of Kindness Day (NZ)

Respect the Drive Day

Revolution Day (Libya; 1969)

Rites of Moawita (Elder Scrolls)

Save Japan’s Dolphins Day

Sing A Silly Song In Bed Day

Teacher’s Day (Singapore)

Tourist Day

Toy Tips Executive Toy Test Day

Trout Day (French Republic)

Veteran’s Day (Poland)

Wattle Day (Australia)

White Rabbit Day

World CLL Day

World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation

World Day of the Fingerprint

World Emotional Trauma Awareness Day

World Freestyle Football Day

World Letter Writing Day

World PCOS Day of Unity

World War Two Anniversary Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Cherry Popover Day

National Burnt Ends Day

National Gyro Day

National Oatloaf Day

National Tofu Day (UK)

Oyster Season begins

1st Friday in September

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Belgian Beer Weekend begins (Belgisch Bierweekend) [1st Friday thru Sunday]

Bring Your Manners To Work Day [1st Friday]

Casual Day (South Africa) [1st Friday]

College Colors Day [Friday nearest 9.1]

Dri-jerbal (Labor Day; Marshall Islands) [1st Friday]

Freddie Mercury’s Montreux Memorial Day begins [Weekend of 1st Friday]

Labor Day Weekend (U.S. & Canada) [Begins Friday before 1st Monday in September]

Benton Neighbor Day (Benton, Missouri)

Britt Draft Horse Show (Britt, Iowa)

Bumbershoot (Seattle, Washington)

Central City Rock 'n' Roll Cruise-in & Concert (Central City, Kentucky)

Cleveland National Air Show (Cleveland, Ohio)

Clothesline Fair (Prairie Grove, Arkansas)

Colombia River Cross Channel Swim (Hood River, Oregon)

Colorado Balloon Classic (Colorado Springs, Colorado)

Commonwheel Labor Day Weekend Arts and Crafts Festival (Manitou Springs, Colorado)

Daniel Boone Pioneer Days (Winchester, Kentucky)

Fort Bridger Rendezvous (Fort Bridger, Wyoming)

Great Bathtub Race (Nome, Alaska)

Great Grove Bed Race (Coconut Grove, Florida)

Harvest Wine Celebration (Livermore, California)

Hog Capital of the World Festival (Kewanee, Illinois)

Hopkinton State Fair (Contoocook, New Hampshire)

Iroquois Arts Festival (Howes Cave, New York)

Johnson City Field Days (Johnson City, New York)

Jubilee Days Festival (Zion, Illinois)

Lifelight Outdoor Music Festival (Worthing, South Dakota)

Mackinac Bridge Walk (St. Ignace, Michigan)

National Championship Chuckwagon Races (Clinton, Arkansas)

National Hard Crab Derby and Fair (Crisfield, Maryland)

National Sweetcorn Festival (Hoopeston, Illinois)

Oatmeal Festival (Bertram/Oatmeal, Texas)

Odyssey Greek Festival (Orange, Connecticut)

On the Waterfront (Rockford, Illinois)

Old Threshers Reunion (Mount Pleasant, Iowa)

Oregon Trail Rodeo (Hastings, Nebraska)

Payson Golden Onion Days (Payson, Utah)

Pennsylvania Arts & Crafts Colonial Festival (Greensburg, Pennsylvania)

Popeye Picnic (Chester, Illinois)

Santa-Cali-Gon Days Festival (Independence, Missouri)

Scandinavian Fest (Budd Lake, New Jersey)

Sta-Bil Nationals Championship Lawn Mower Race (Delaware, Ohio)

Snake River Duck Race (Nome, Alaska)

Taste of Colorado (Denver, Colorado)

Taste of Madison (Madison, Wisconsin)

Totah Festival (Farmington, New Mexico)

Waikiki Roughwater Swim (Honolulu, Hawaii)

Westfest Czech Heritage Festival (West, Texas)

West Virginia Italian Heritage Festival (Clarksburg, West Virginia)

Wisconsin State Cow-Chip Throw (Prairie du Sac, Wisconsin)

Woodstock Fair (Woodstock, Connecticut)

World Championship Barbecue Goat Cook-Off (Brady, Texas)

National Chianti Day [1st Friday]

National Food Bank Day [1st Friday]

National Lazy Mom’s Day [1st Friday]

Wear Teal Day [1st Friday]

Independence Days

Alberta Province Day (Canada; 1905)

Baltia (Declared; 2014) [unrecognized]

Chrisland (Declared; 2015) [unrecognized]

Gymnasium State (Declared; 2017) [unrecognized]

Saskatchewan Province Day (Canada; 1905)

Uzbekistan (a.k.a. Mustaqillik Kuni); from USSR, 1991)

Feast Days

Constantius (Costanzo) of Aquino (Christian; Saint)

Dalton (Positivist; Saint)

David Pendleton Oakerhater (Anglican Communion)

Ecclesiastical New Year (Orthodox Christian)

Feast of Macuilxochitl (5 Flower God; Mexico)

Festival of the Grapevines I: Ariadne (Pagan)

Felix, Donatus, Arontius, Honoratus, Fortunatus, Sabinianus, Septimus, Januarius, Vitalis, Satyrus, abd Repostius, 12 brothers (Christian; Martyrs)

Festival of Juno Regina and Jupiter Liber (Ancient Rome)

Fiacre (France, Ireland; Christian; Saint) [also 8.30]

Firminus II (Christian; Saint)

Gideon the Judge (Christian; Saint)

Giles (Christian; Saint)

Hobbit Remembrance Day (Pastafarian)

Loup (a.k.a. Lupus or Lew) of Sens (Christian; Saint)

Nivard (a.k.a. Nivo; Christian; Saint)

Ramalamadingdong begins (Church of the SubGenius)

Simeon Stylite (Eastern Orthodox)

Sixtus of Reims (Christian; Saint)

Taddeo Zuccari (Artology)

Terentian (a.k.a. Terrence; Christian; Saint)

Uncle Ermisimo (Muppetism)

Verena (Christian; Saint)

Vibiana (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Historically Bad Day (Germany invaded Poland, earthquakes in Iran & Japan & 8 other tragedies) [7of 11]

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Premieres

Address Unknown, by Kathrine Kressmann Taylor (Novel; 1938)

The Aleph, by Jorge Luis Borges (Short Story; 1945)

Arsenic and Old Lace (Film; 1943)

The Autograph Hound (Disney Cartoon; 1939)

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (Film; 1947)

Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins (Novel; 2009) [#2]

Chocolates for Breakfast, by Pamela Moore (Novel; 1956)

Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, by Thomas De Quincey (Autobiography; 1821)

The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen (Novel; 2001)

Crank (Film; 2006)

Dames (Film; 1934)

Dr. Feelgood, by Mötley Crüe (Album; 1989)

Dug Days (Animated TV Series; 2021)

The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje (Novel; 1992)

Ethan Frome, by Edith Wharton (Novel; 1911)

A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway (Novel; 1929)

A Farewell to Kings, by Rush (Album; 1977)

The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, by Dr. Seuss (Children’s Books; 1938)

Hook, Lion and Sinker (Disney Cartoon; 1950)

Honey’s Money (WB MM Cartoon; 1962)

Idiocracy (Film; 2006)

Julius Caesar, by William Shakespeare (Play; 1599)

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov (Novel; 1955)

The Mass Psychology of Fascism, by Wilhelm Reich (Political Book; 1933)

Middlemarch, by George Eliot (Novel; 1871)

The Mighty Hercules (Animated TV Series; 1963)

The Old Man and the Sea (Short Story; 1952)

Outside Providence (Film; 1999)

Peculiar Penguins (Disney Cartoon; 1934)

The Plastics Inventor (Disney Cartoon; 1944)

Private Eyes, by Hall & Oates (Album; 1981)

The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran (Poems; 1923)

Rear Window (Film; 1954)

A Room of One’s Own, by Virginia Woolf (Novel; 1929)

The Slap-Happy Mouse (WB MM Cartoon; 1956)

The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, by John le Carré (Novel; 1963)

The Stepford Wives, by Ira Levin (Novel; 1972)

Haydn String Quartets, Opus 10, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Quartets; 1785)

Swordfishtrombones, by Tom Waits (Album; 1983)

TikTok (Social Media App; 2016)

Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller (Novel; 1934) What a Wonderful World, by Louis Armstrong (Song; 1967)

When Worlds Collide, by Philip Wylie (Novel; 1932)

The Women (Film; 1939)

Worth Dying For, 15th Jack Reacher book, by Lee Child (Novel; 2010)

You Can’t Take It with You (Film; 1938)

Today’s Name Days

Ägidius, Ruth, Verena (Austria)

Damyan, Damyana, Kozma, Kuzman, Simeon, Simona (Bulgaria)

Aron, Egidije, Estera, Jošua, Oliver, Predrag, Šimun, Tamara, Viktor (Croatia)

Jaroslava, Linda, Samuel (Czech Republic)

Ægidius, Theobaldus (Denmark)

Eha, Ehala, Hämarik, Ülar, Ülari, Ülev, Üllar, Üllart, Üllas, Üllo, Ülo (Estonia)

Aaro, Aaron, Pirkka (Finland)

Aaron, Esther, Giles, Goulwen, Jossué, Thierry (France)

Ägidius, Ruth, Verena (Germany)

Anargyros, Argyris, Antigone, Antigoni, Athena, Athina, Damianos, Kosmas, Margarita, Polynike, Polyniki, Symeon (Greece)

Annamária, Egon, Egyed, Tihamér (Hungary)

Caio, Cono, Costanzo, Egidio (Italy)

Austrums, Ilmārs, Iluta, Irisa, Imants, Ingars, Intars, Teobalds, Verena (Latvia)

Burvilė, Egidijus, Gytautas, Gytis, Julijus, Liepa, Tautrimas, Tautrimė (Lithuania)

Ask, Embla, Solveig, Solvor (Norway)

Aaron, Bogusław, Bronisław, Bronisława, Bronisz, Halina, Idzi, Klarysa, Marian, Niegosława, Teobald (Poland)

Dionisie (Romania)

Diana, Drahoslava (Slovakia)

Aarón, Arturo, Ester, Esther, Gil, Josué, Leonor, Oliverio, Simeón, Sixto (Spain)

Aron, Mirjam, Sam, Samuel (Sweden)

Debbie, Deborah, Debra, Edgar, Edgardo, Giles, Josh, Joshua, Josue, Ruth (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 244 of 2024; 121 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of week 35 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 25 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Geng-Shen), Day 17 (Ren-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 15 Elul 5783

Islamic: 15 Safar 1445

J Cal: 4 Aki; Foursday [4 of 30]

Julian: 19 August 2023

Moon: 96%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 20 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Dalton]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 5 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 72 of 94)

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 11 of 32)

Calendar Changes

September (Gregorian Calendar) [Month 9 of 12]

[ramrodd]

Has the Family Tomb of Simon of Cyrene Been Found?

COMMENTARY:

The problem with your version of Jesus is that you are trying to explain a heliocentric system with a geocentric paradigm. that cripples your imagination just at the moment, in your life, when your faith in scholarship will burst open like the Lotus Blossom of Buddha. The Holy Spirt has created a crack  your Cosmic Egg with this discovery. If you were truly Born Again duging the 60s, you still are.

Campus Crusade for Christ presented Jesus as a form of divine ecstasy as superior to the drugs, sex, and rock-n-roll when you and I were on campus. You wanted to believe their Total Depravity Gospel because you were scared shitless of going to Vietnam and were looking for ways to avoid the draft. You adopted the dialectical Marxism that was the dominant paradigm of the SDS until they occupied Columbia in 1968 and the entire American University System flopped over the Politically Correct cancel culture of the  dialectical Marxism that was employed, Rhetorically, to oppose the war. You are the personification of the Oliver Stone version of Vietnam that informed Ken Burns' PBS documentary, Vietnam. Your entire academic canon is apologetics for avoiding the draft, as an Air force brat.

The thing is, my version of Vietnam is based on the Liberation Gospel of George Washington. I consider all things Calvinism as total bullshit, especially Campus Crusade for Christ. My best friend at ΘΧ introduced Campus Crusade for Christ in the spring of 1966 and managed to offended me with his campaign to get me to make a decision for Jesus which, if he actually understood who I was, would have realized I considered a military career a Christian vocation in the old Knights of the Templar sense of the word and college was just part of my preparation for Vietnam, where I could earn my spurs and make my bones for a 30  career. I discussed it with the Holy Spirit and he told me to just go along with  Bill's program and accept Jesus in a brand new way: lying for righteousness sake. I never told Bill how insulted I was, but it only confirmed the total fraud of Por-Life Fascism of the Pro-Trump demons of the Evangelical anit-Christ, Pat Robertson.

Anyway, as I observed at the ZOOM meeting this afternoon, Richard Bauckman is exactly correct  about the eye-witnesses.  I mean, Mark 1:4 - 8 is an  executive summary of the int4lligence content regarding John the Baptist that existed in the intelligence files of the 10 Legion before Jesus appeared and took command of the civil organization John the Baptist had created during the "preparing th e Way for the Lord" phase of Christianity. Quelle is all eye-witness reports from the field to the Roman spy masters.  

The contents of Quelle, as verified by the Gospel of Mark, is the systematic product of the S2/S3 of the 10 Legion. That particular function of the General Staff of Frederick the Great would not differentiae until Frederick the Great, butt the Romans were totally up to speed on what the British would come to call MI5 and MI6. The CIA works more on the Presbyterian structures of the Federalist 10, but the concept is the same.

The connection between the covenant between the Italian Cohort and the Command Sergeant Major of the US Army is straight as a laser through the Declaration of Independence and the 1st Amendment of the Bill of Rights and behind the paywall of the 2nd Amendment. This is what the January 6 majority is trying to blow up: this is what Tommy Tuberville is fucking with to keep the January 6 rebellion working.

You believe in Jesus with your whole heart, both you and Crossan.  For the Jesus Seminar, academic glory lies in the fusion of Mark and John  You have been an eye-witness to the miracle of science in the validation of metaphysical knowledge at the edge of the dialectical synthesis of irresistible grace which has drawn you through your career like a cat chasing a laser dot.  

[goldsrc-hl1]

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Miles Luna dick sucker trying to gaslight people the White Fang was not based off the Civil rights movement."

First off, I don't like Miles Luna. Dude is a scumbag. Literally tweeted the N word. Not a good person. I like the show, not the people behind the show.

And if you'd actually listen to what I say, you'd know that when I say the White Fang isn't based off the Civil Rights movement, you'd know I'm referring to Adam's White Fang exclusively. Which is definitely not based off the Civil Rights movement. The concept of inequality and fighting in the name of it is absolutely inspired by the American Civil Rights movement, 100%, but Adam Taurus? Nah, he's completely separate. No civil rights movement has had the goal of revenge and supremacy in the United States, at least to my knowledge.

"I don't know if you've been living under a rock for the past few months, but I recall you have a Twitter and are part of the Rwby fandom there. I can guarantee you have taken notice of every rwby post since May of 2023 having #greenlightvolume10 in a sad attempt to get the tag trending so big daddy Warner Bros would hopefully notice. You and the rest of the stans can do all the Olympic style gymnastics you want trying to convince yourselves and everyone else that RT and your faves in the upper crust of crwby are separate, but it will never be true."

Not anymore, I don't. I didn't know how terrible CRWBY was until only a few months ago. They suck. I don't like them. At least, I don't like most of them. There's a few there that I've yet to hear bad stuff about.

I like the show they make though. Nothing wrong with supporting a show you like.

"Your best buddy Miles Luna may not work under RT as an employee anymore, but Kerry Shawcross sure as hell does. Does that mean he has to go? Im gonna bet you'd say no because"hes one of the good ones" as if you know him personally enough to vouch for him (which you don't)."

Nah, apparently he sucks from what I've heard. Unfortunately he's been there since day one, so removing him would definitely be felt. Ideally, he changes himself up and becomes a better person.

If that doesn't happen, fire his ass.

"Putting #greenlightvolume10 in every tweet tangentially related to rwby won't magically make RT disappear from the production. If you want volume 10 to happen, it has to happen through them unless someone buys the Rwby IP. But fat chance of that happening. There's no way RT would want to let go of their precious cash cow, even if it's drying up. And no, Crunchy Roll didn't buy rwby, they bought the rights to stream vol 9."

Yes, I am aware. Did you know that by buying literally anything, chances are you're supporting a corporation that violates human rights daily? Cause you probably are. It's unironically unavoidable.

If RWBY was bought by a different company that'd be fuckin awesome, but I know it won't happen. I really wish it would, but it won't.

I do not support RT or like the people who write RWBY. I like RWBY. That's the difference.

"By tweeting #greenlightvol10, you're showing you want more rwby content no matter what. Even if it means it's at the expense of a new team of freelance animators fresh from college that will be exploited. But you don't care because you won't have to see them. They're not the celebrities you simp for."

They're gonna get exploited no matter what. That's how this country works. No company is gonna look at freelance animators and not exploit them.

Only way to not contribute to the exploitation of workers in 99% of cases is straight up to just not buy anything.

Once again, I don't support Rooster Teeth or CRWBY. I don't like any of them. I do like RWBY, as well as other products Rooster Teeth makes such as Red vs. Blue.

[philippaulkelly]

Check out my conversation with @eddiestarofficial on his “College of Rock-n-Roll Knowledge” podcast.