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senditcolton · 1 month

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Request: Mean Marty smut. Because “we’re a bad idea” is completed (loved the character progression in that last chapter, by the way), there’s a good chance Lamoriello isn’t re-signing him and Clutter, and this entire off-season has hurt my heart. Dealer’s choice on the content.

- 💛

I'm Not Sentimental, but...

a/n: considering the way I managed to write all of this in a single night I feels just proves how much I kind of missed writing smut. why is it always this man to pull me back to smut writing? the world may never know. inspired by this moodboard by @smileysvech, this ask from a previous thirst night, and this proposal from @comphy-and-cozy, (not sure if you'll get the full epic, but here's a little taste)

Song Inspo: "Billie Bossa Nova" by Billie Eilish Word Count: 5k Warnings: smut. sugar daddy/baby dynamics, bondage, sensory deprivation, oral (m receiving), sex toys, overstimulation, dirty talk, and just general depravity... I'm going to hell, it's fine.

Aman. Premiere Suite. Ten o’clock. Sharp.

That was the four sentence text message Matt Martin had sent you earlier today. A text message that you had been repeating in your head almost religiously, as if being able to recite it from memory would make him forgive you for the fact that it was now 10:15 and you were still a block away.

Hell, being able to recite the message would most likely get you into even more trouble.

Instead of memorizing the now irrelevant text, you should’ve been practicing a rehearsed speech of excuses to tell him when you finally did arrive: your boss kept you at work for longer than expected, you had to stop at your house to get ready, dressing to the parameters that Matt had set in the text massage prior to the one rattling in your brain. Anything that would transfer the blame from you onto someone else. But you knew it would be pointless.

Matt loved reminding you that you were capable of anything. A reminder that was uplifting when brought up in conversations about the education he was helping pay for. A reminder that was shameful when he said it in that degrading tone that made you weak in the knees.

When the two of you had agreed to this dynamic all those months ago, you knew what you were signing up for. Being a sugar baby wasn’t for the meek. That statement was only amplified when you added Matt Martin to the equation.

After all, no sane person would willingly agree to trudge down New York City streets in a set of highly risqué lingerie, the only protection between you and indecent exposure being a long tan trench coat.

Yet… here you were.

A sigh of relief whooshes out of you when you see the neon sign of the hotel ahead, your pace quickening as if that would make up for lost time. You try to keep an air of confidence about you as you walk into the lobby, your heels clicking on the tile floor. The song-and-dance at the front desk is blissfully short – only the words ‘premiere suite’ needed to fall from your mouth before someone is escorting you to the private elevator. You step inside, the doors closing and you watch the LED numbers increase, your heartrate rising with it.

You were so late. You were in so much trouble. But, instead of the dread you should’ve felt at the thought of facing Matt’s disappointment, there was a thrum of excitement running through you.

It wasn’t anything to lie about. In fact, Matt often liked to tease you, asking if you broke the rules on purpose because you liked the punishment. Whenever he asked, both you and he knew that there was no denying the truth.

It was a deliciously predictable game of cat-and-mouse. You knew exactly how far you could push and he knew exactly how much you could take. It was a transaction, like every other part of your arrangement. And while some might think that knowledge would dampen the mood, it actually just made it even more intoxicating.

The elevator finally stops, the doors opening directly into the suite – an elegantly decorated room decked in the blacks and beiges that screamed bougie. You step forward, out of the elevator, your heels sinking into the carpet as your eyes dart around the room, looking for Matt. You eventually spy the outline of his tall frame in front of the opened bay doors, the cool air streaming in from the balcony, fluttering the curtains. He has his back to you, his arms crossed and you see an empty whiskey glass dangling from his fingers.

He knew you were there. He had to have known that you were there, the elevator ding when you arrived being anything but subtle. Yet, he didn’t acknowledge you – just kept staring out at 5th Avenue.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you decide to break the silence with a gentle whisper of his name but before you could add another word to the single syllable sentence, his voice cuts you off.

“What time is it?”

It’s a somewhat rhetorical question but one that demands an answer nonetheless. He knew the time but more importantly, he knew that you knew the time. But he wanted you to acknowledge it – admit your failings – and that delectable shame causes the heat to rise in your cheeks.

“10:28,” you whisper out and your quiet admission has Matt turning to face you. He looks good, like always. The white button-down shirt is cut perfectly to his body, the black of his slacks and his tan tie making it seem like he belonged in this room. Everything about him screamed power and luxury, from the Windsor knot still snug below his throat, to the Rolex on his wrist, to his cufflinks glinting in the low lamplight.

“10:28,” he repeats. He moves forward, quickly abandoning his glass on a nearby table, his now empty hands coming to grip your chin and tilt your head back to lock your eyes with his. “It’s like you don’t want to see me,” he muses, the dangerous sparkle in his irises only hinting at what was to come.

“Of course, I do,” you rebut, the pleading edge to your voice sounding almost too sickly sweet to even your ears. “But –”

Whatever words you had poised to fall from your lips are silenced by Matt pulling your face towards him to crash his lips against yours. You should hate how much you melt under his touch, how willingly you open your mouth to allow his tongue to have access. But you don’t. It was nearly impossible to hate Matt Martin, even when his lips disappear from yours.

“No excuses, sweetheart. We both know any excuse you have could be resolved if you just let me take care of you entirely,” he whispers, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

The proposal isn’t new; it’s one that he had casually suggested almost every night since your arrangement started. It was also pointless to argue with him because he was telling the truth. He had enough money to make it so you could exist to only be on his arm and at his beck and call. But that wasn’t the life you had envisioned. He knew that. He respected that.

This was your boundary for him; one that he liked to toy at but you knew he would never cross.

“I know,” you whisper, having no other answer to give him. It seems to be enough, that lazy smug smile appearing on his face; the one that had Islander fans cheer and opponents sneer when he was playing. One that occasionally appeared in press conferences he attended as Assistant General Manager. It signals an end to the conversation and acts as a segue into the inevitable.

His hands fall from your face, moving to your coat as he deftly unties the long belt from its cinched position around your waist. The material slips from your frame with a surprising ease, leaving you clad in the lingerie he requested – the set he bought you a week ago. The undergarments are more for decoration than actual function, considering the only coverage on your chest was a pair of satin ribbons and the fabric around your hips disappeared when it came time to cover your core.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hands delicately tracing the lines of your body, toying with but not undoing the bows on your chest and hips. The sharp breath that he sucks in between his teeth at the sight of you makes the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“Wanted to make sure I looked perfect for you.”

“Think that will excuse you for being late?” he asks, that smirk reappearing as his head cocks to the side. You quickly shake your head in a negative (even though you hoped that flattery would get you out of whatever torture was to come), an action to which his only response is a deep chuckle.

He walks away from you for a moment, the space between Matt’s heat and your newly exposed body allowing the coolness of the night air to hit your skin. You watch him pick up the pale pink leather cuffs that you only now realized had been waiting for you on the table next to the whiskey glass he abandoned a few short minutes ago.

“Wrists.”

The single word is all it takes for you to present your hands to him, watching with baited breath as he wraps the material around your joints, buckling the hardware securely against your skin. You let him guide your arms behind your back, the click of the restraints locking together seemingly reverberating around your ribcage.

“Knees.”

It is somewhat ridiculous how single syllable words are all Matt needs to utter to have you obeying him perfectly. The descent to your knees is easy, the plush carpet forgiving, and your eyes glance up, tracking Matt’s movement as he walks back in front of you, towering over your body more than he usually did. His hands come to his neck, elegant fingers undoing his tie, allowing the material to now drape down either side of his collar. He continues to deconstruct the professional façade he was wearing like a mask, unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt and removing the cufflinks to roll up his sleeves. His hands return to the silken material of his tie, pulling one side until it falls from his frame. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize his intentions with said material, a pout forming on your lips as he takes the fabric in both hands.

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he coos as he moves the material towards your face, the stretch of fabric between his fists the perfect length to wrap around your head, the high-quality silk covering your eyes and plunging the room into darkness. You feel his adept fingers loop the material, careful not to get it tangled in your hair as he tugs a secure knot against the back of your skull.

“Felt like you didn’t want to see me tonight anyway,” he muses, his voice now becoming your only guide as he continues, “since you were almost a half-hour late.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, knowing that the plea, no matter how pathetic, would fall onto deaf ears.

“I know, sweetheart.”

His reply is pitying but firm – a staple in the dynamic established between the two of you. Rules had been laid out and it was only befitting that when one was broken, a punishment followed.

Although, the sound of his belt buckle coming undone combined with the snap of the leather as it slipped from his belt loops didn’t sound like the beginnings of a punishment to you.

Your mouth opens with practiced ease, outstretching your tongue and submitting yourself to him in what you were sure looked like the most perfect bow-tied present. He chuckles and you feel his fingers grip your chin again before his thumb is pressing against the pink muscle of your tongue.

“That eager for me, aren’t you?”

You only response is to wrap your lips around the digit, gently suckling – just enough to tempt him into giving you the real thing. He laughs, his thumb slipping out of the wet cavern of your mouth before the sound of him unzipping of his dress pants causes your mouth to open again.

It is slight torture, waiting for him, not being able to see him and not being able to know what was coming and when it was coming. But that only heightened the excitement you felt when the delectable weight of his shaft came to rest on your outstretched tongue. You feel the appendage slide against you, the tip of it disappearing into your mouth – shallowly at first but slowly increasing its depth. You press your tongue against the bottom of his length, a silent indication that you were willing and ready to take all of him, one that Matt reads and responds to by holding the side of your head as his hips begin to move, thrusting into your mouth. You relax your throat, allowing him to slip deeper as he takes what he needs from your body, the filthy praise rolling from his lips while yours are otherwise occupied.

“Never get tired of this,” he groans from above you. “Never get tied of seeing your mouth wrapped around my cock. Of feeling your throat constrict around me. Such a good girl – such a pretty perfect slut for me.”

You can hear his words become stuttered, feel the steady rhythm of his thrusts turn staccato and it isn’t long until his climax comes, the feeling of his release filling your mouth almost as intoxicating as the taste of him. You suck, cleaning him with an eager deftness that has him groaning, a trill running through you. You wish you could see him – see the post-orgasm glow that alit his skin, see the way he pushes back the strands of hair that always fell over his forehead. For the first time since he took your sight away, it felt like a punishment.

He finally pushes back, the silky smoothness of his length removing itself from your mouth until a single string of silverly saliva is all that connects you. A laugh emanates from his chest as he takes you in, surely looking like a mess with the sheen of sweat on your skin, the spit on you lips, the track of tears escaping from underneath the makeshift blindfold.

“Y’look so beautiful. Gonna take a picture,” he mutters and you gently nod your head in consent.

You hear the click of a phone camera before Matt’s hands are back on your body, this time lifting you up off the ground before trailing down your arms to unclasp the restraints. He doesn’t remove the material from your eyes, leaving you still blind as he guides you further into the room. You allow him to manipulate your body, letting him push and turn you until he is gently pressing you back against the mattress of the king-sized bed, the sheets gliding against your skin. He guides your arms up over your head and your once again hear the click of the restraints although this time when you tug, the resistance you are met with is not your own wrists but a wooden bedframe.

Another whine escapes from you, the previous act of having him in your mouth only succeeding in making you even more desperate; something that Matt most likely knew, hence why he still prevented you from touching him or even seeing him. You are simply forced to wait in deprived silence, listening intently to every noise that hits your eardrums for indication on what was to come.

You hear the rustle of fabric, the zip of a zipper, and what you think is a small chuckle from Matt before you can feel his weight sink onto the mattress. Your thighs fall open of their own volition but Matt doesn’t tease you about it, instead happy to drink in the sight of your soaked core.

“Oh, that wet already, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks and judging by the dampness you can feel on your skin, you can only imagine how lewd the display must appear. “Got this desperate from me fucking your face? Such a perfect slut, always ready for me.”

Another whimper falls from your lips, the rolling of your hips acting as both a confirmation that you wanted him and a silent plea for him to give you more than just his words. The sigh that escapes you when you feel him trace down your thigh is blissful, until you realize that it is not Matt’s rough calloused fingers slowly trailing towards your core, but instead a soft silicone.

“No, please,” you whimper out as Matt moves the toy closer to the apex of your thighs, the rounded head coming to glide against your slick folds. “Want you Matt. Want your cock.”

“You already got it tonight,” he whispers, the toy trailing up until the tip of it presses against your clit.

“Want your cock inside me.”

“You want me to fuck your perfect cunt? Want to feel me stretching that tight little pussy open?”

Your only response is a desperate whine as your hips buck, the action forcing the toy to bump against your bundle of nerves, causing your breathing to stutter. Matt holds the wand in place and you can feel him hovering over you, his breath fanning across your cheekbones.

“Then you should’ve been on time,” he whispers, his sentence punctuated by the click of the power button, the sudden vibrations forcing a downright pornographic moan to fall from your lips. He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against you, the buzz of it filling the room.

Your already desperate state accompanied by the low and steady hum of the vibrator means that your climax hits you faster than expected, the warmth of it washing over your body as you whine and writhe against the sheets. Matt waits until your body is no longer trembling to remove the toy from your core before turning it off, returning the room to its former silence.

That should have been the end of it, the deprivation of touch, of sight, and of him, seeming to you like punishment enough. But when the head of the vibrator is pressed against your sensitive core again, your mind is left reeling.

Your confusion allows Matt to roughly grab your leg, pulling it closer until the firm length of the wand is pressed against the supple flesh of your inner thigh. The sensation is quickly followed by another, the feeling of a different material wrapping around the toy and your leg. It takes a minute to recognize the light scratch of the fabric as the belt that used to be looped around your trench coat.

“Wh- ” you begin to ask, the simple question not even being completed before Matt shushes you, his hands still working to wrap the belt around your skin.

His hand tugs at your other thigh until you can feel them press together, the sensation of your skin fully sticking to each other impeded only by the wand firmly held into place by your limbs. But the intention behind those registered touches doesn’t fully hit you until you feel the cinch of the belt tightening around both of your legs.

“Matt, please, don’t,” you beg, the understanding of what he was about to do hitting you like a freight train. Your wrists tug at your restraints, a mantra repeating in your brain that says he couldn’t possibly be this mean.

“What are you whining about, darling? I’m about to give you more pleasure than you probably deserve.”

You whimper, knowing that he had a point. He could’ve switched the entire script, going with the torture of edging you but never allowing you a release instead of the painful bliss of overstimulation. But you needed him. Not a toy, not an orgasm – him.

“I know you can take it, like the perfect whore you are,” he mutters, his fingers tracing over the ridges of your face, that depredating praise making another zing of desire flow through you, the arousal gushing from your core even more noticeable to you because of the bindings on your legs. “But if you don’t think you can, all you have to do is tell me.”

He is giving you a choice to end it here, to have him untie you and let him take care of you. But as much as you wanted him to coddle you, you wanted to earn it. Matt knew that – you were always looking to prove yourself to anyone – hence his phrasing. Another trick in his arsenal.

So, instead of the safe-word, another plea escapes your lips, your begging consent for him to continue. You can’t see it, but that grin pulls across Matt’s features once again, a smirk of both power and admiration aimed directly at you. His hand falls from your face, trailing a torturous path down your body before dancing across your bound thighs.

The vibrations that hit you are expected and yet somehow manage catch you entirely off-guard, your core still sensitive from your previous orgasm. A high-pitched moan crawls its way up your throat as your muscles clench, your back arching.

“There she is. There’s my good girl,” Matt whispers, his praise the only thing strong enough to cut through the haze that you felt slowly enveloping you. “Feels good, yeah?”

A pathetic whimper is the only response that you can give, the sensations assaulting your body rendering you essentially speechless. Usually, that was sufficient but Matt’s mean streak seems to be never-ending, the click of his tongue sounding throughout the room.

“No, sweetheart, I need your words.”

There is a proper answer – one that you learned quickly after you once said yes and that agreement led to even more discipline. Now, the words were caught in your throat, not because you didn’t know what to say but because it was difficult to even form a string of syllables that was in any way coherent.

“Not as good as you,” you manage to choke out, your sentence rendered choppy by the hiccups of gasps that you couldn’t hold back.

You feel the mattress shift, Matt’s weight disappearing and you have no shame in letting your protest be heard, a pitiful mewl ripping its way out of your throat. You can barely hear Matt’s chuckle before you register the mattress dipping again, this time on either side of your head. It’s the press of Matt’s lips against yours that has your second orgasm crashing over you, unabashed moans falling from your mouth into his, all of which Matt greedily swallows. The orgasm fades only briefly before your body writhes again, the restraints around your wrists and your legs holding you and the vibrator tight.

Matt’s lips disappear from yours, another strangled groan falling from your lips, the sound now only hindered by your dwindling sense of self-control.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you hear Matt explain. His voice is cruelly casual; it was as if he was discussing the weather, as if he wasn’t leaving you bound with the wand still humming between your thighs, abusing your oversensitive core. “I can see you trying to quiet all those pretty little noises you want to make. Let them out, sweetheart. I want to hear you – want all of New York to hear what a good little slut you are.”

You aren’t sure whether it is his encouragement or your own desire that erases any lingering shame you have in your body, your moans now falling freely. The only praise that Matt gives you is a quiet ‘there she is’ before you can sense his presence disappearing from the room, the confirmation coming in the sound of the showerhead turning on.

When your third orgasm thrums through your body, you realize that your current predicament was more of a challenge than anything else. Not just to have Matt hear you over the crash of the water but to even stay coherent enough to do so, a test you were starting to fail as you feel the weight of your sub-space prick at the corner of your eyes. You try to ground yourself by listing every sensation: the way the sheets dampen with sweat underneath you, the way the supple leather digs into your wrists, the cool breeze coming from the window dancing over your skin. But everything is slowly drowned out by the incessant buzz of the vibrator between your legs, still pressed against your clit, that constant stimulation forcing your body to writhe, your thighs to slicken, your chest to heave.

The noises that do manage to fall from you are a jumble compilation of sighs, moans, and curses, each less coherent with every orgasm that passes through you. It is the most delicious torture, the relief of a climax followed swiftly by the borderline pain of the vibrations still going. There is no quantifying anything: how long you’ve been here, how many orgasms had been ripped from your body, how tears you’ve shed from the overstimulation. You’ve lost all sense of anything else but the hum between your legs and the torturous pleasure it brings.

Finally – finally – after yet another orgasm has crashed into you, the vibrations stop and you can’t help the absolute half-sob, half-sigh of relief that huffs from your chest. That sub-space that you had been fighting off, you now give into with a sigh, allowing the haze to sink into your body. It encompasses you, making you feel as if you were floating in the vastness of space, as if you were being smothered in velvet. The only thing that keeps you somewhat tied to earth is Matt’s gentle voice, the quiet praise falling from his lips. It takes Matt lifting you off the mattress and cradling you in his arms for you to fully come back to the present moment. Only then do you realize all the fabric that was previously tied along your body was gone, leaving you naked. You don’t care, choosing instead to nuzzle deeper into Matt’s chest as he whisks you away, your eyelids fluttering open and readjusting to the low candlelight of the bathroom.

Matt gently places you down into the tub already filled with warm water, the temperature feeling heavenly as it penetrates your muscles. A soft kiss on your temple is what Matt leaves you with before he exits the room, closing the door firmly behind him. You swear you hear hushed voices emanating from underneath the door but you are still too dazed to even bother worrying yourself over it. Eventually, Matt returns, this time with a small cart carrying a bottle of champagne and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Drink this first,” he quietly demands, handing you an ice-cold water bottle. “All of it.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, the chilled liquid never feeling more refreshing against your tongue, coating your sore throat. You give the empty bottle back to him, the plastic being replaced by smooth glass as he hands you a champagne flute, before leaning against the side of the tub with his own glass. You take in his appearance, hair still damp from his shower, only a pair of sweatpants on his frame. His own blue eyes appraise you similarly, the quiet concern mixing with a pure devotion in his irises. You finally decide to break the silence, your voice sounding terribly hoarse as you whisper.

“’M hungry.”

Matt just smiles before grabbing the plate of strawberries, setting them down on the small stool next to the bathtub, making it easy for you to reach them. You happily munch on the fruit, feeling a modicum of energy return to you as you lean back and let Matt take care of you. His hands move beneath the water, massaging your tight muscles before grabbing the soft cotton washcloth, dampening the material in order to wipe away the sweat still clinging to your skin. You only protest once with a small hiss when he brushes against your oversensitive core, the sound quieted with a hush. The praise that fell from his mouth might have just been repeated from earlier but this time you could register it and every word made your body warm.

Sounded so pretty for me. I knew you could handle it, my perfect girl. You did so well.

He eventually lets the bath drain, helping you out of the porcelain tub and drying off the water from your body. The plush complimentary robe is thrown over your frame and Matt takes your arm, gently guiding you back to the bedroom. You can’t stop the breathy laugh that falls from your lips when you spy the shopping bags, designer labels on all of them, now piled up by one side of the bed – a bed that had been stripped and remade with fresh sheets.

“For you,” Matt whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. You reply by turning your head towards him to press your lips onto his. It is gentler than any other kiss you shared tonight and you melt into his embrace. He helps you slip underneath the sheets, his broad body not far behind as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest.

“I could make it so that you would never have to work again,” he whispers to you, reiterating the proposal that he postulated almost every time he saw you. You are about to retort, a sigh of his name falling from your lips before he silences your protest by continuing. “I know, you like to feel independent. And I admire that about you. I just like having you by my side.”

You rotate your body in the bed, turning to face him, the sharp angles of his face highlighted by the lights of the city that never sleeps.

“I like being by your side,” you whisper, your heart soaring at the sight of his smile.

“I don’t want you to give up your life – become some sort of trophy or anything. I respect you too much to ask you to do that. Just… promise me you’ll think about it.”

He doesn’t fully elaborate what it is: whether he meant allowing your dynamic to expand to every aspect of your life so you could do what you wanted without the pressure of making money or whether he meant becoming his completely, without any monetary value placed on the relationship you shared.

But, the silence of the hotel room, you come to realize that there is little difference between those two possibilities.

Matt wouldn’t just stop taking care of you if he wasn’t bound by a contract. He was more than that. What you shared was more than that; more than a number in your bank account, more than the amount of designer product in your closet, more than a simple transaction.

It was something real.

#nicole writes #💛 anon #fic request #matt martin fic #matt martin imagine #matt martin smut #new york islanders fic #new york islanders imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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A small brain worm I threw at @henderdads and now I can't get it out of my head...also guys, this is about the musical. Only the musical. Please. Don't come at me and attempt to burn me at stake for heresy. Double please.

Musical singers Steve and Eddie.

They are both very talented, well known, have an amazing stage presence. They never starred anywhere together, but people would love to see them because their voices are exact opposites, Steve's clear and perfected, Eddie's more raw and full of emotion. They don't know each other, but know OF each other.

Steve thinks Eddie should have been a rocker and not a musical singer. He always sticks out of his roles a bit, bringing a lot of himself into his roles. He's also rumored to have an inconsistent work morale.

Eddie thinks Steve is a pompous ass. He had the perfect education, connections, his voice is flawless while Eddie has a bit of a rasp. He's Mr. Perfect and Eddie hates it.

Eventually, they get cast in a production together...of Jesus Christ Superstar, Steve as Jesus and Eddie as Judas. They greet each other cautiously, start rehearsing...and magic happens.

Because Steve, the Grease posterboy, can portray so much pain and loneliness it takes Eddie's breath away. The way two single tears roll from his eyes when he asks God why he should die is...it stirrs something in Eddie. He believes Steve.

Eddie makes Steve speechless when he sings about how everything they've worked for has become sour, how he's torn between his loyalty to Jesus and drive to take action, do something to feel like he's fixing the injustices of the world. Eddie's dark eyes show so much hurt and internal turmoil that Steve wants to hold him.

And the final number, Superstar. It is a show number, it can be taken more lightly, but Eddie manages to convey his regret, his lingering questions, and Steve reaches for him with bloodied fingers, mouthing "help me", knowing all too well Eddie can't.

The crowd goes nuts. There are flowers everywhere, cheering, yelling, and Steve and Eddie finally agree on something - none of their premieres have felt like this.

The second the curtain drops, Eddie turns to Steve. "Uh. Could you maybe get changed?" When Steve stares at him, Eddie turns a beautiful shade of pink visible even through the stage makeup and clarifies. "Look, it's not like I'm really religious, but I really, really want to kiss you now. And it would feel really weird with...that."

Steve snickers and adjusts his prop thorn crown. "You're a wise man, Eddie Munson. The fake blood tastes awful. Meet you outside in fifteen?"

After the first kiss, a fun dinner and a very exciting night, Eddie asks Steve: "so, you think they'd cast me in Grease with you?"

His boyfriend snickers and kisses his cheek. "I sure hope so, you'd look great in a blonde wig."

And yes, it might earn Steve a hit with a pillow, but Eddie always sings along to Summer Lovin' with him whenever they cook together and that's all that matters.

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #stranger things #stranger things drabble

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joesalw · 10 months

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You really can't write this shit lmao...

TS's friend group consists of Miss 'idc about genocide and continue to employ a bloodthirsty zionist CEO for my makeup brand' and Cara D who's great grandfather created the Black and Tans which is a terrorist organisation that killed Irish people during the Irish War of Independence. A group that also sent their people to kill Palestinians in favor of establishing the state of Israel. Last night these 3 went to Ramy Youssef's (who Taylor probably met at the "Poor Things" premiere) comedy show in NYC and 100% of the proceeds would go to the Gaza relief fund. The thing is, Selena and Taylor are getting all the credit and praise for Ramy's activism. I've been a fan of her work for the past 10 years and her recent activities have turned me off of her completely. The turning point was that pathetic TIME interview.

I've always thought of her as this well-read individual who can masterfully express herself whether it would be public speaking or writing but I couldn't help but cringe while reading that article. She tries too hard to appeal to gen z and younger millennial crowd when she herself is practically pushing 40 atp. I feel like all of her 'intelligence' came from being around Joe Alwyn who's a notorious bookworm. The fact that she describes her Rep era as 'goth-punk' was the first strike, the 2016 hate train as a ' career death' was the 2nd and the whole patriarchy delusion she went into just hit the final nail in the coffin and I was like 'nope, not doing this shit anymore'.

I know that swifties have been comparing her to Beyonce lately saying things like 'well, Taylor writes her songs' or 'Beyonce can't read' and talking about how she doesn't give interviews so people don't know that she's dumb. And as a comparison I've found her Harper's Bazaar interview that she gave when she turned 40. And good God, I've slept on this woman for way too long. In the interview she talks about building her work ethic from an early age. The dedication of her life's decades (First decade was dedicated to dreaming, the teens were about the grind, the 20s were about building a strong foundation for her career and establishing her legacy, the 30s were about starting her family and prioritizing her own life over her career). She started her own management company at 27, in 2013 she started her charity foundation in which she helps hurricane relief, education, supporting minorities businesses, families with housing needs, water crises, pediatric health care and pandemic relief. She talks about expanding her business ventures beyond music industry, talks about setting boundaries in the world of celebrity culture, about her friends being a group of strong independent women, about the importance of mental health. She also says that she's most inspired by her parents ("My mother has always been my Queen and still is. She has always been so strong and is filled with humanity", "No matter how tired she was, she was always professional, loving, and nurturing."; "My father constantly encouraged me to write my own songs and create my own vision. He is the reason I wrote and produced at such a young age."). That woman is so well-spoken and genuine you can't help but feel warm while reading it and she doesn't feel the need of throwing unnecessary 'smart people' words to seem that way.

Reading Taylor's "Person of the Year" profile and Beyonce's 'Entering 40s' interview were completely different experiences. And as a result, one of them lost a fan and the other gained one. I wish Tree Paine would stop Taylor from giving these interviews because everytime she does, she comes across as tone-deaf, out of touch, mentally stuck overgrown teenager, try-hard bratty diva who can't stand being not the only one praised.

Anyway, I'd recommend to read the full interview and watching her new film. I've watched it yesterday and got the urge of turning my life around. That lady is truly such a light.

Taylor's friend list also includes 'Mr. and Mrs. plantation with slave cabins on the property wedding', 'a sex offender and a SA apologist as the newest addition', 'Ms. "I assaulted my own sister", ' an insecure and whiny music producer who likes to stir drama on Taylor's behalf'. And not to mention that she's dated a nazi this year and her newest flavour of the month is a fatphobic jock with a double digit iq, her father is also an avid republican voter. I think the people she surrounds herself with tell about her more than she does herself.

And concluding with two cents about Joe Alwyn. I'm glad she's out of his life. While I was a swiftie I've watched his interviews and he always came across as a very gentle, calm, well-spoken and a bit introverted man. And she's... well, her. I also think that she'd held him back in her job in regards of producers and directors not wanting their work to be overshadowed by 'Taylor's BF is in this' articles. I'm hoping he does more projects in the future or maybe dips his toes in writing and directing something because clearly he's a talented writer.

Sorry for the long rant, had to get it out of my system <3

I love reading your rants, keep it coming. they are so on point.

#anti taylor swift #swifties dni #joe alwyn

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blitznut · 9 months

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Tfa as college students

Blackarachnia has an organic chemistry degree from a private all-women's college. She unfortunately could not find a girlfriend, and she has tons of debt. Poor girl.

Lockdown went to community college for morturary science. He loves to tell you about how he graduated debt free. Just give him a dead body, and he'll figure it out from there.

Blitzwing went to college at one point, but he had to quit because of his schedule. He ended up getting an associates degree in dance theory from an online community college.

Lugnut has a gender studies degree from a fancy private liberal arts school. He's very much adament that he could easily get a job with his degree. He graduated at the top of his class. He was also so devoted to his studies that he somehow graduated debt free.

Megatron got a degree in business management from a for-profit college that got busted by the feds for being a money laundering scheme. Ever since then, Megatron has been on a crusade against for-profit education.

Optimus Prime has a history degree from a state school. He now works as a space bridge worker. Life finds a way, I guess. He is still paying his debt off to this day.

Bulkhead graduated magna cum laude with a degree in engineering from a technical institute. He and Bumblebee are trying to find a way to pay off their debt at the same time.

Bumblebee went to college, and has a fine arts degree. It took him a while to graduate, but he did it. He bounced from school to school for a while. He and Bulkhead are trying to find a way to pay off their debt at the same time.

Prowl is against the higher education system.

Ratchet has a BSN. He got it online. He was a certified RN before he got his full degree. He makes BS jokes all the time. He has no debt because he served in the Autobot army, so he has free education.

Arcee has a doctorate in education. She graduated at the top of her class from a prestigeous women's college. She got her degree because she's passionate about education and the well-being of students.

Sentinel went to a state school with Optimus. He partied all throughout his four years, but somehow managed to graduate with honors and with a degree in English. He doesn't use his degree at all because he works in the military.

Jazz is currently working on getting his french horn certification. He has a media production degree. He is Adobe Audition and Premiere Pro certified.

Jetstorm is too busy with the ladies to get a degree.

Jetfire is too broke to go to college.

Shockwave does not have a degree. He just coasts on good vibes.

Starscream got kicked out of the Vosian Institute for Technology for trying to plot the downfall of his professor. He says he was only 10 credit hours away from graduating, honestly!

#meta #blitzwing #lugnut #transformers animated #blackarachnia #starscream #megatron #optimus prime #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #shockwave

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chip-and-ironicus · 4 months

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Grant's Recent guest spot roundup!

The first four guest spots I’ve done to spread the word about The Disappearances of Lydia Fountayne have come out. (First five technically, but that one will kick off the second roundup). Let's take a look!

Do You Remember Robotech Episode 33: [A Rainy Night]'s Knight For A [Rainy Night] Plight We compare the 33rd episodes of SFD Macross and Robotech, and find a lot to say about how slight differences lead to large divergences. Also, my fullest retelling of the saga of Pie Girl.

Lightning Strikes Thrice: Radio Manga: Ghost in the Shell We talk about one of the best examples of a “guy explains the cool thing he read to you” book, with a mix of fantastic art, action, and ideas that never manage to gel into something that meets its potential. That's what the adaptations are for, I guess.

Flash in the Pan Episode 110: A Soupçon Of Hitler Flash videos! Star Wars! Branded content and CGI Dragon strangling educational media! What is the difference between making a fan video out of love and making one out of mockery?

Out This Guy ep 46 - Big Chest Exposed Knees This one is a treat for 6FU listeners, and hopefully entices a few people to become listeners. I'm talking about the big blue boy: Izer Munn. He's grumpy, he's got skeletons in his closet, and he's bad at emotions. But doggone it he's there for his crew. And for those listeners in the know, there are some previews of coming attractions in Izer's yet-to-be-posted future adventures.

These, and those to come, have been so much fun to make. But please remember, this whole tour is in service of spreading the word about The Disappearances of Lydia Fountayne and its currently live Kickstarter to make a full season. Give it a listen! Spread the links! And please, add your pledge so we can deliver on what the premiere episode promised.

#chip and ironicus #ironicus #audio drama #dolf #lydia disappears #the disappearances of lydia fountayne #audio fiction #kickstarter #Robotech #Macross #Ghost in the Shell #Flash Cartoons #STAR WARS #6FU #Six Feats Under #RENEGADE SCUM

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maggiec70 · 11 months

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what did Louise Lannes do then for you to have such a low opinion of her?

Why I Dislike/Disapprove of/Loathe/Condemn The Lovely Louise

!800 – 1809: Greed, Pettiness, and Bargain-Basement Bourgeois Mentality

She had the intellectual curiosity of a housefly and the education of the lowest of the bourgeoisie. Not surprising since her mother home-schooled her in the basics, and she had one year only with Madame Campan.

She was greedy and overly fond of collecting trinkets, ornaments, and similar items of no particular quality or style. She demanded, with some degree of shrill relentlessness, plenty of money to pay for all her crap.

She was often unrelenting in her demands for all sorts of things: that her brother be promoted to Lannes’ premier aide-de-camp; that her brother-in-law be promoted to head of V Corps’ engineers; that her father be given a higher-paying, more prestigious position in the imperial bureaucracy. She managed to give blatant nepotism a bad name.

She refused to be social. Ever. She hated the Imperial Court functions and refused to go, using the kinds as an excuse. She didn’t want Lannes to go either, and when he went because Napoleon expected him to, she engaged in monumental pouts. The myths that she was always so lovely, graceful, and sweet on these occasions were just that—myths.

She had two close—unhealthily close—friends, the slimy Dr. Corvisart, whom her equally slimy father introduced to Napoleon, and a second-rate perennially off-duty chevalier. No women friends of any rank. Just as well, because according to almost all the extant memoirs, no woman of any rank liked her, apparently able to see through the “I’m so sweet and demur” act.

She never went to Lectoure, Lannes’ hometown, and threw a real bitch fit when he wanted to go or went without her “approval” simply because he wanted to see his father and his siblings, and a lot of friends.

She insisted if they visited anyone, carting the kids with them, it was only and always to see her family. Full stop.

1809-1822: Treachery, Treason, Malfeasance, and Suspicious Death

She had to deal with claims from Lannes’ first wife, the much-maligned Polette Meric, on behalf of her son, Jean-Claude, until Naps ended that by a sharp letter to Cambaceres.

She actually went to the Tuileries to demand that Naps grant—posthumously, of course—the title “Prince of Seviers” so she could be a for-real princess just like Mesdames Massena, Berthier, and so forth and so on. She threw a significant shit-storm when Naps refused, and he reminded her that Lannes never applied for the letters patent because he didn’t care about the title, so she shouldn’t either.

No one—literally, no one other than Naps—thought she was a suitable choice for Marie-Louise. The historical record is replete with examples from the folks surrounding Marie-Louise, who was no winner herself.

She and her partner in crime, Dr. Corvisart, worked to insinuate themselves into M-L’s life so that when 1814 arrived, they could work to keep her away from Naps.

She made sure, as her letters show, that M-L and Naps II went back to Vienna, accompanied by her soon-to-be lover, Count Neipperg.

She offered her mansion that Lannes had bought and paid for to Wellesley for his headquarters. He refused, graciously, it is said.

Her parents immediately pledged their loyalty to Louis XVIII.

She lawyered up for the next legal battle with Polette, now that Naps was out of the picture.

She went into higher gear after Waterloo, now with nothing to stop her other than Jean-Claude’s attorney, who began to show that her marriage and Lannes’ divorce from Polette were riddled with illegal points.

Jean-Claude died in mysterious circumstances in November 1817. He had never been ill, and died three days after contracting an unknown illness. This has always been suspicious for obvious reasons.

She packed up the kids and went to Lectoure in 1818—she stayed in Auch, however, about 20 miles south—and, in a large PR event, donated Lannes’ house to the town. She never returned nor allowed any of the kids to return.

To be fair, which I always try to do regarding interpreting historical facts and figures, read Regis Bob-Crepy’s bio of Louise. His family married into hers back in the day before she married Lannes, and he is remarkably talented in glorifying his view of Louise. Besides the sheer comedic value for me, the best thing about his book is the letters he uses, which were/are maintained in the family’s hands and never before shared. Of course, we cannot know if others shed a different light on the subject. Given the family’s cavalier and almost criminal way they have treated anything to do with Lannes, his possessions, or his legacy, opting instead for celebrating their ties with the de Broglies and the Berthiers, I can almost guarantee that any shred of anything detrimental about Louise disappeared ages ago.

I have often sneered at the men who wrote biographies and articles about Lannes buying the Louise myth in its totality. But then, the poor dears simply can’t see things that are very clear to us.

Hope this answers your question.

#bad louise lannes #jean lannes

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bedlamsbard · 1 year

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For MCU asks, favorite thing you have learned from your WWII fic research so far?

In terms of "sheer WTF but basically harmless," the fact that the American jewelry industry basically invented (American) men's wedding rings and by extension the double-ring ceremony in weddings during the war. Prior to the 1940s most married men did not wear wedding bands (there was an attempt by the industry to popularize men's wedding rings in the 1920s, but it didn't really take off), but after the end of the Depression and during the war the jewelry industry managed to invent the "tradition" of the double ring ceremony. Advertisements from the 1940s focus on soldier's wedding rings as a way to keep the ring from being too "feminized," as well as being a reminder of home, a symbol of hope that deployed men will return from the war, and a commitment to their brides.

I found this out after I wrote the wedding ring scene in Home 1, but fortunately by 1945 it was common for married GIs to wear rings, so it's not an anachronism. Occasionally men's wedding rings from MIA soldiers still turn up in Europe and the Pacific, I found a bunch of news articles about that when I started looking; most of the rest of what I found was jeweler and wedding blogs talking about how men's wedding rings took off during WWII because soldiers wanted to show their commitment to their wives. Which, yes -- but only because the jewelry industry WANTED them too, men's rings don't spontaneously generate.

[advertisement from January 1944 issue of The Jeweler' Circular-Keystone, from J.R. Wood & Sons, Inc, the premier wedding band manufacturer in the U.S. the picture shows a GI looking at his wedding ring, with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

text: MEN IN THE ARMED SERVICES MOST IMPORTANT POST-WAR INFLUENCE: When you make your Post-War Plans, consider the more than 100,000,000 men in the Armed Services. They are the best-dressed, best-fed, best-educated group of men in the country. And, after the War, they will be the most important influence in this country at Peace. A far smaller group of men, in the First World War, came back to revolutionize markets and buying. Cigarettes, quick smoke in the trenches, became the smoking habit of the nation. The wrist-watch, born of war-time practicality, became the peace-time time-piece. In this war, too, influences are daily at work, which will leave their impact on the era to come.

[sidebar: Helpful Hint on Post-War Planning] One trend that is sharply evident today and limited only by the restrictions of war-time manufacture is the service man's interest in the companion wedding ring. The double-ring ceremony has caught on -- and will undoubtedly be one of the generally accepted practices of tomorrow. Plan now to dramatize this trend!

No one can predict exactly what the Post-War World will bring. But the influences which will guide those years ahead are clear to see -- and heed!]

Source: Howard, Vicki. “A ‘Real Man’s Ring’: Gender and the Invention of Tradition.” Journal of Social History 36, no. 4 (2003): 837–56. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3790353.

#silversays #bedlam replies #home behind the scenes

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windlassrivervalley · 2 months

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Discover Modern Living at Windlass River Valley: The Premier Apartments in Dehradun

Nestled in the serene foothills of the Himalayas, Dehradun has emerged as a top destination for those seeking a blend of urban convenience and natural beauty. Among the many residential developments in this picturesque city, Windlass River Valley stands out as a premier choice for those looking for apartments in Dehradun. This sprawling township offers a lifestyle that combines modern amenities with the tranquility of nature, making it an ideal home for families, professionals, and retirees alike.

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Dehradun’s charm lies in its unique combination of natural beauty and modern infrastructure. Known for its pleasant climate, lush greenery, and proximity to the mountains, Dehradun has always been a sought-after location for those seeking a peaceful lifestyle. Over the years, the city has also developed a robust infrastructure, with excellent educational institutions, healthcare facilities, and shopping centers, making it a perfect place for modern living.

For those considering an investment in real estate, particularly in apartments in Dehradun, the city offers a promising future. With its growing economy, improving infrastructure, and the increasing influx of professionals and retirees, Dehradun is quickly becoming a real estate hotspot. And within this burgeoning market, Windlass River Valley shines as a prime option for residential living.

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Windlass River Valley is more than just a residential project; it’s a well-planned township designed to offer a holistic living experience. Located in Harrawala, one of the city’s most rapidly developing areas, this township is strategically positioned to provide easy access to all of Dehradun’s key locations, while still offering the peace and quiet of suburban life.

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In today’s world, sustainable living is more important than ever. Windlass River Valley has been designed with eco-friendliness in mind. The township features green spaces, energy-efficient buildings, and waste management systems that minimize environmental impact. Living here means you can enjoy the best of modern amenities while also contributing to a sustainable future.

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Furthermore, Dehradun’s growing popularity as a destination for both tourism and retirement means that there is a strong demand for quality housing. Whether you plan to live in your apartment or rent it out, you can expect a good return on your investment.

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Living at Windlass River Valley means embracing a lifestyle that balances convenience, luxury, and natural beauty. Imagine waking up to the sight of the majestic Himalayas, spending your evenings strolling through beautifully landscaped gardens, and having all the amenities you need just a short walk away. This is the lifestyle that Windlass River Valley offers—a perfect blend of urban and suburban living.

For those who work in Dehradun or nearby cities, the township’s location ensures that commuting is hassle-free. Major roads and public transportation are easily accessible, making it convenient to travel to and from the city. At the same time, the peaceful surroundings offer a welcome escape from the hustle and bustle of city life.

If you’re in the market for apartments in Dehradun, Windlass River Valley should be at the top of your list. With its modern design, comprehensive amenities, and prime location, it offers everything you need for a comfortable and fulfilling life. Whether you’re looking to invest in real estate or find your dream home, Windlass River Valley is a choice you won’t regret.

Explore the possibilities today and discover why Windlass River Valley is the premier destination for modern living in Dehradun.

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kristsune · 2 years

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So I had this idea a while ago, to do little reviews for all of Tim Meredith’s songs because I feel like there isn’t enough love out there for them. So last week I decided to just Do It. I finished (including the two new songs he just dropped yesterday) I have it here under a readmore, or if you would prefer, you can just read the gdoc here, I only did the songs that were listed on his bandcamp (which you should absolutely go to) even though there are a few extra early ones on his youtube. These were written in no particular order, basically whichever song I happened to click on next. Anyway, feel free to read and spread the word.

How to even describe Tim Meredith’s music. The way he can adapt to different styles and genres is honestly impressive. It’s probably got something to do with the improv background but it’s amazing how he can just … choose a style and write an incredible song for it. Everytime he drops a new song I am always impressed with what he has managed yet again.

Disclaimer: I don’t have any musical education except being friends with multiple musicians for many years in which only small amounts of information have managed to seep into my adhd addled brain. So I apologize for the lack of musically correct terminology, this is a work of appreciation, not technical prowess. Also lyrics are generally the last thing I hear, so I may mention them here and there, but they aren’t my main focus for this.

Always Here

I can’t quite express what it is about this song that I adore, but it absolutely has something to do with the deep rumble of the bass and the way it drives the song forward relentlessly. The effect on the vocals only adds to this. The fact that it goes minor definitely caters to my tastes specifically. The high tones that come in during the bridge have such a Bowie quality that is delightful and a perfect contrast to the rest of the song. (artwork: the mossy greenery adds such a vibe to the song)

Don’t Look to Me

This has been one of my favorites since it aired. The high vocals of the chorus, with the overlapping harmonies are beautifully done and how they are placed over each other makes me think of something being sung in a large hall or church, big and echoey. Additionally the offset of the lyrics “it’s what you chose” (and to a lesser degree “any other way”) makes it feel like you’re being surrounded, like its multiple people telling you this is what you chose, what you wanted. I adore how the vocals trail out with the music at the end. (artwork: the hot pink neon feels so right for the feeling, the tiles adding to the echo)

Sweaty (Near You)

I know this one was controversial at the release, but I honestly could not then, and still cannot understand why. People are honestly sleeping on this song and it makes no sense to me. It’s got a very sensual vibe without gendered lyrics. Sure “baby” is used, but if you don’t think baby could be used for any gender then that’s on you, not the song. The deep base with the sparse instrumentation with a fun noodly solo is just an excellent combination that works so incredibly well. (artwork: the b&w photo with dark maroon text is a perfect combination)

Lucky Boy

When this song premiered my first thought was the entrance song for a villain in a movie. I could see it so clearly in my head. It’s got drive, and movement, and attitude the way it kicks up into high gear into the chorus from the verse with that fuzz guitar. The incredible layers with all the different synth/organ sounds, paints such an image. Nevermind the vocals that fit so perfectly within all that. (artwork: The maneki-neko is such a perfect choice for this)

Numbers and Lights

This is another one I have difficulty describing quite what it is that I love about it. It’s rather lowkey all the way through and I rather enjoy the… almost the stops and starts, the way it gives pause before kicking back in, like the song needs to take a breath before moving on. Again, pretty sure this one turns minor in a way that caters directly to me. Small detail that really delights me is what sounds like the equivalent to crickets under the “Reid asks Reid tells”. (artwork: gotta love biflag color rep. always a plus)

Limb Controller

This song features Amy and was an early favorite of mine. It feels like a song that could and should be played at a disco, just making me want to dance. The synths are perfect and I love how they gain intensity in the bridge before coming back down for the verse. The contrast between Amy’s higher vocals to Tim’s rougher growly ones is a perfect combination. I’ve always loved the “I’ve already let him in, a puppet on his string” moment. (artwork: when videos were still being made, love the scifi vibes)

Never Loved

Another song that is a bit more lowkey, but still comes through with excellent vibes. This one is really all about the syncopation especially with the drums. Which includes the panning back and forth during certain portions, but especially during the time change. I also really love the effects on the vocals. The occasional splashes of a high stringed instrument, and the crash of a forward cymbal really just add to the atmosphere of the song. (arwork: something about being called never loved with what looks like kintsugi just kinda Hits)

Love Your Mind

The repeating pattern throughout this song is just So Good, I love everything about it, and then how other patterns build on top of it? Impeccable. There are so many layers but it's never too much or loses track of itself, never feels over complicated or discordant. I always end up tapping along to the pattern, sometimes difficult to choose which one to follow. This song is shorter, but never fails to make me smile. (artwork: love the chandelier with the many intricate patterns, feels like it matches the song perfectly in that way)

On Your Terms

Oh that bass line. *chef kiss* Absolutely the backbone of the song, helps create the perfect atmosphere for that distorted guitar. Tim always puts a lot into the vocals, but here it feels like there is a extra level of emotion that feels raw. The way the note is held for “on your terms” just kind of kicks me in the chest every time. (artwork: love that the fire is the only color)

Some Thoughts After Consideration

This song truly resonates with me on a molecular level. I have been working in retail for going on 18 years and I just feel this song in the depths of my soul. Something about the wobbly synths and strong beat with the soft vocals are just perfect. The transition to what almost feels like a … big musical number in a theatrical show for the chorus. Like I can just see big spot lights turning on the stage. Perfection. (artwork: can’t go wrong with a squawking seagull, theme on point)

Falling Away

This is another one of my favorites. It’s so soft and gentle, lilting piano blending so perfectly with the vocals, which build up in intensity for the chorus so beautifully. Again, I think this one turns minor key, though I’m not as sure about it as I am with the others. I don’t have a lot of words for this one, but it’s lovely in its simplicity. (artwork: always loved this one for no reason I can really define)

Regret Me Not

I love how this song starts off sounding like something like a medieval march. The most prominent thing about this song is of course those incredible harmonies all throughout. The whole initial build up, and how it switches halfway through is just incredible. There is so much depth in this short song. I don’t always pay attention to lyrics, but when I did look at them I was surprised and delighted by how uplifting they are. (artwork: another older one with a video. I am a sucker for nature anything, and this just being a series of nature shots particularly appealed to me)

Pacesetter

The deep rumbly bass paired with the panning distorted vocals is just an incredible driving force. This song has the kind of beat that will just go on forever. If it were a predator it would be a komodo dragon just relentlessly following behind, never losing sight, always there stalking forward. (artwork: the starting line for a racetrack is an excellent choice)

The Aftermath

This was another early favorite of mine. The mandolin is the star of this song, but it is surrounded by a wonderful arrangement that allows it to be so. The gentle piano with the soft vocals, the shakers and woodblocks all come together beautifully. I always adored the extended pause about ⅔ of the way through. (artwork: this is my favorite video, and I’m sure it took a lot of work to match all the timing so well. The way it ends with the snuffing of the candle 10/10 no notes)

Arcadia

The light bouncy acoustic guitar is so catchy paired with the light and airy vocals, just makes for a lovely song all around. Truly impressive that so much can be expressed with so few instruments. I always find myself nodding my head along to this one. (artwork: makes me think of marshmallow and then want something sweet, but then I remember it’s a rock face and then that makes me want to climb it. Too bad it wasn’t a marshmallow clifface)

Deep Air

This is one of those songs that I love because it’s so out of the usual wheelhouse. It’s chill and wonderfully lowkey, and truly does make you feel like you are just floating around in space. The NASA audio certainly only adds to that vibe. Even with all that I do really love how it still slowly builds towards a big end. (artwork: excellent space vibes, love it)

A Horrid Angry Goose

I remember the goose game stream quite fondly, and this song in response to that was an absolute delight. It’s a fun and funny song, but it also has genuinely fantastic harmonies, and a strong baseline. The build up in each verse into the chorus is just so good. I love how it tells the story of the game, but in such a delightful way. This song is a guaranteed mood boost and I’m so glad for it. (artwork: Goosey perfection)

What It Says About Me

Adore the intro to this, the panning on the string instrument is perfect, and then when the beat drops and everything just drives on. Again, the way the vocals harmonize is impeccable. Truly impressive. Also adore the almost call and response at about halfway through. (artwork: something about the rusted half visible ship feels sad, though I suppose it’s apt for the song)

Unremarkable Sin

The alternating rhythms for this are just so incredibly good, the way it starts and the way it changes when the drums kick in, giving it a bit of swing that is just really great. I really love the gentle vocals for this as well, they fit between the instrumentation so perfectly. (artwork: i love the vague religious vibes, which somehow also translate into the music but in a not actually religious way)

What’s Due

Another one that just kicks ass right out the gate. The rising synths just gives this song such energy. The layered and overlapping synths and rhythms makes it feel like it’d fit right in at a bar or a scene in a movie (bar scene in a movie?) Again the pause about ⅔ the way through adds such drama and it’s absolutely perfect. The processing on the vocals is fantastic and the delivery only adds to the overall attitude of the song. (artwork: bull terriers are one of my favorite puppies and this one is SO cute, bonus points for bi pride colors)

Breaking

The bass line with the panning distorted guitar is such a good combination. That plus the processing on the vocals, creates such a spacious atmosphere that feels melancholy (Though I suppose the lyrics probably add to that feelings). (artwork: love a good seascape, big fan of corals and anemones, and adds to the vibe of having already “fallen”)

An Imagined Sense

Another song that just makes me want to dance, The way this one goes from just a decent beat to kicking into high gear is so good. Again with the excellent doubled vocals/extreme delay just creating such a great balance with the synths. (artwork: the video for this is extremely hypnotizing and feels like you’re being sucked into the song, which feel right)

Walk Away

The really distorted bass paired with the really light piano synth and gentle cymbals is just a really excellent combination. I really love the repetition for the chorus, plus of course the lovely harmonies make for a really lovely chill song. (artwork: Always been a fan of viewing through an opening, but the broken down interior out into the green outdoors is very pleasing.)

Exquisitely Bad

The groove that is set as soon as the song starts is just impeccable. And that groove just doesn’t stop. I love the contrast of that deeper bass with the higher synths that alternate between ears. Something about how the vocals jump up during with the chord progression is delightful. Really just a killer song. (artwork: love the dilapidated house with green font, fit right in with the Halloween premiere)

Horny for Greece

I know this started as a song from stream, but it is genuinely a fantastic song. That funky piano that gives Stevie Wonder Vibes, the niche but perfect rhymes with excellent vocals, the syncopated drums. All just add up to great vibes. (artwork: having the title cut diagonal over the broken section of sculpture is perfection)

The Eventual

Always a sucker for a song with handclaps. Mixed with the woodwind and the harmonica creates such an interesting atmosphere. There is something about the double beat on the drums that I really enjoy. I also love the strong distortion on the vocals, really pulls the room together. (artwork: took me ages to realize the picture was flipped upside down, that being said, it’s still very visually interesting)

Wretched

The slow build with the offset synths that make almost a round, the drums start and stopping before they fade and the beat truly starts is just so good. It creates such tension. I love how the synths create almost waves throughout the song, pulling it along. I also adore the effects on the vocals, just fits so perfectly with the soundscape of the rest of the song. (artwork: it took me a little bit to realize what I had been looking at, but the textures are so good. Fits with the vibes)

More Time

The hard fuzz guitar is such a strong start for this song, paired with the very rock drums is just perfect. Just has excellent classic rock vibes. I really love the depth of emotion felt in the vocals, and the low doubled vocal is a perfect extra layer you sometimes don’t even realize is there adding to it. (artwork: not sure how or why, but the fire seems to just fit perfectly for this)

Can’t Happen Here

I absolutely love the piano intro for this, it really sets the whole mood. I absolutely love the vocals for this song. The almost call and response, the harmonies, just *chef kiss* fantastic. I also really love the fuzz guitar when it kicks in. Ramps the song to a whole other level. (artwork: love the roiling clouds for this one. Yet again, fits the mood perfectly.)

Kennecott

I desperately love the percussion in this song, both the unusual patterns and the sounds used. It creates such a cool landscape for the song. And the interest doesn’t end there. The part where the sound pans quickly from left to right with the rhythm is just so incredibly good. This song is just an experience from start to finish. (artwork: I never quite figured out what this one was, an aerial shot? of the beach? My brain always just made it out to be an abstract painting but I am currently realizing that is incorrect. Still fits the vibe though, feels scattershot like the song.)

On Notice

(sidenote: I have barely listened to this one, because I tend to listen to my youtube playlist, and I found while making this that this song is only on bandcamp, so I haven’t listened to this one nearly as much as most of the others despite it being released about a year ago)

The sheer amount of Radiohead Vibes for this is absolutely incredible, and as someone who absolutely adores Radiohead, I love it. I love how the vocals come in and out, I love the almost droning instruments in the background. Additionally, on the delay on the vocals is fantastic, and I love the pause like ⅔ the way through. Excellent. (artwork: Love the b&w, looks like black marble. Great look.)

Better from Further Away

I love the simple clean (upright?) bass in the opening, with the soft drums. Again, I am a sucker for harmonies and I love them on the chorus. The juxtaposition of the very chill relaxed song, to the somewhat ridiculous (read: amazing) lyrics is very good. (artwork: Love this video, especially the close up zoom on the sheep when they are mentioned.)

Friend of Mine

I love how gentle and soft this whole song is. The piano and soft drums working so well together with the gentle lyrics. I really love it when the piano kind of goes into double time. (artwork: Love a good red sunset. Excellent.)

In The Dark

I love how this starts out with what feels like very 80’s movie synths, and then just shifts into a very chill song. Not sure why but it does give very 80’s Jim Henson vibes. Like I feel this should be in the Dark Crystal or Labyrinth or something. Maybe it’s the lovely harmonies that I can see being sung by small fuzzy puppets. Also I absolutely adore the horns throughout. Perfect 10/10. (artwork: I think 3 puppets should in fact pop out of the three holes to sing those harmonies.)

Now We’ll Never Know

This song is so very pretty. The simple bass and ringing guitar along with the gentle vocals. Yet again, the harmonies on the “oohs” are beautiful and I love them, especially paired with that gently picked guitar. (artwork: love a good dilapidated staircase. The green lettering is a perfect match.)

#tim meredith #music #my writing #please feel free to reblog

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