#all platinum records

[plus-low-overthrow]

H A P P Y H A L L O W E E N F O L K S!

H'Bday to LB on his 40th!!! Love you man!

[thebreakfastgenie]

#prev this part has become a tiktok audio unfortunately. so this is the reason @paulmccartneyswagdotcom

ok tbh I did hear about that. I have sources (friends who are willing to use the clock app). I can't be too mad about this one tbh because Piano Man going viral with a whole new generation is going to drive that old man crazy.

[bloomfish]

the thing is i miss 8tracks so much. and i was so good at it lol several of my mixes were very popular on there and not just fandom stuff I had mixes that were like "for when you're drowning in melancholy" or "a mix for the boredom of a young girl in small town suburbia". the thing about spotify is that the playlist function encourages you to dump as many songs as possible into it. so when I look at the playlists that have a lot of likes its just the most random collection of stuff, no thought put into it at all beyond "this vaguely fits the theme/style" and you'll have playlists with good semi-obscure stuff but then randomly taylor swift. whereas I would agonise over the song selection (and i still do) and the ORDER the songs were in, like I made sure the mix transitioned smoothly and I would do so much digging to find the perfect songs in terms of style and lyrics as well. there's no market for that anymore! i wish it was my job i should become a DJ

[freudianslumber]

[thestarmaker]

So far the best movie I've watched this year is still puss in boots the last wish, with del toro's pinocchio and weird: the al yankovic story probably tied for second

[thecodeveronica]

my hands are shaking and sweaty, but I FINALLY beat Minerva in Crisis Core Reunion

holy shit is that a relief now, I was afraid that would be the one thing stopping me from getting this platinum trophy, and I was going nuts with that second Judgement Arrow straight up killing me in my past attempts at 25% of her HP

[lewisinho]

finished footy and learn that my man is still gonna be running that wheelbarrow set up aite

[cyarsk52-20]

When Tina Turner left her first husband - who was also her boss, captor, and brutal tormentor - she snuck out of their Dallas hotel room with a single thought in her mind: "The way out is through the door." From there she fled across the midnight freeway, semi-trucks careening past her, with 36 cents and a Mobil gas card in her pocket. As soon as she decided to walk out that door, she owned nothing else. When she filed for divorce, she made an unusual request. She didn't want anything: not the song rights, not the cars, not the houses, not the money. All she wanted was the stage name he gave her - Tina - and her married name - Turner. This was the name by which the world had come to know her, and keeping it was her only chance to salvage her career. Things could have gone a lot of ways from there. She could have labored in obscurity for decades, maybe making records on small labels to be prized by vinyl connoisseurs in Portland. She could have stayed in Vegas, where she first went to get her chops back up, and worked as a nostalgia act. And, of course, given what she had been through, she might have … not made it. What happened instead is that Tina Turner became the biggest global rock star of the 80s. I'm old enough to barely remember this, but if you aren't, it was like this: The Rolling Stones would headline a stadium one day, and the next day it would be Tina Turner. A middle-aged Black woman - she became a rock star at 42! - sitting atop the 1980s like it was her throne. She managed this because of whatever rare stuff she was made of (this is a woman whose label gave her two weeks to record her solo debut, Private Dancer, which went five times platinum); because she decided to speak publicly about her abusive marriage and forge her own identity, and in doing so give hope and courage to countless women; and also because - in a perhaps unlikely twist for a girl from Nutbush, Tennessee - she had her practice of Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism, to which she credited her survival. She remained devout until the end. Tina's second marriage - to her, her only marriage - was to Edwin Bach, a Swiss music executive 16 years her junior. Of him, she said, "Erwin, who is a force of nature in his own right, has never been the least bit intimidated by my career, my talents, or my fame." In 2016, after a barrage of health problems, Tina's kidneys began to fail. A Swiss citizen by then, she had started preparing for assisted suicide when her husband stepped in. According to Tina, he said, "He didn't want another woman, or another life." He gave her one of his kidneys, buying her the remainder of her time on this earth and perhaps closing a cycle which took her from a man who inflicted injury upon her to a man willing to inflict injury upon himself to save her from harm. Born into a share-cropping family as Anna Mae Bullock in 1939, she died Tina Turner in a palatial Swiss estate: the queen of rock 'n roll; a storm of a performer with a wildcat-fierce voice; a dancer of visceral, spine-tingling potency and ability; a beauty for the ages; a survivor of terrible abuse and an advocate for others in similar situations; an author and actress; a devout Buddhist; a wife and mother; a human being of rare talent and perseverance who, through her transcendent brilliance, became a legend.

Credit: Will Stenberg

[tiredandlonelymuse]

Did you guys know that I have over 28 SINGLES that are platinum or multi platinum? I have 2 that are diamond. All this is the US alone. I’m also one of the only artists in history to *replace themselves* (!!!) at #1 on the radio.

But. Did you know my most critically acclaimed album was also my worst selling? My only Grammy nominated album is the one without a single hit?

Listen, album time is coming and I see a lot of people nostalgic for the before-times for varying (and opposing) reasons and I just want to say: They won’t all be Manic. They won’t all be If I Can’t Have Love I Want Power. They won’t be Badlands because it won’t be the first time again, and they won’t be HFK because they all have to be different. They are all something new. They all become something unique.

If I wrote music, recorded it, and you listen to it? Then I’ve done what I’ve come here to do. The zeitgeist is fickle. And I just have to do the same thing every time. Write it, record it, release it. How it’s received and how it performs isn’t up to me. It’s not even up to you. (Well it’s a little bit up to you) but mostly it’s up to something entirely cosmic that I co-exist with. I am places I never dreamed I would be.

I can’t wait to see what (or who) The Great Impersonator will become.

[dragonmama76]

Eddie and Steve had a will they/wont they going on for years while Eddie did the whole famous rockstar thing. And now he’s on a break. Two platinum records with Corroded Coffin behind him, Eddie can finally concentrate on Steve. And the miracle is that Steve never resented Eddie for focusing on his career. That wasn’t a problem for him. He waited (sometimes patiently and sometimes not) until it was his turn, and when they got together, it was just as incredible as both had expected it would be.

So you can’t blame Eddie for writing his first solo album all about Steve. He’s done hiding in the closet for his career, so it’s he/him pronouns and filthy imagery. Shockingly it sells like you wouldn’t believe. In fact, he’s getting picked up in markets he never reached before. And when he gets the numbers for radio stations, he’s killing it on stations totally unfamiliar to him. But he’s still completely wrapped up in Steve so he’s not paying a lot of attention and he lets his manager take care of everything.

The mystery is revealed the day they get a package from Wayne. It contains clippings from newspapers and magazines, and a note that just says, “Something you want to tell me, boy?” All the headlines are some variation of “Former Satanist Eddie Munson Releases Worship Album quietly signaling his conversion to Christianity”

Eddie is furious and Steve has to watch him throw a tantrum yelling and screaming. When he eventually calms down Steve reminds Eddie that doing zero press and releasing songs like, “On My Knees in Worship” and “He is my Sunrise and my Salvation” might in fact be a little misleading.

They spend the rest of the night giggling about all the good Christians listening to songs about their sex life.

[finnickodaiir]

Wait do people actually think Taylor doesn't like Fearless 😭?

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Oasis - Wonderwall 1995

"Wonderwall" is a song by English rockband Oasis, written by lead guitarist and chief songwriter Noel Gallagher. The song was produced by Gallagher and Owen Morris for the band's second studio album (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, released in 1995.

The song was released as the fourth single from the album on 30 October 1995. "Wonderwall" topped the charts in Australia and New Zealand and reached the top 10 in 13 other countries, including Canada and the US at number 5 and number 8, respectively, as well as number 2 on both the UK Singles Chart and the Irish Singles Chart. The single was certified septuple platinum by the British Phonographic Industry (BPI) and 11-times platinum by the Australian Recording Industry Association (ARIA). Its music video was directed by Nigel Dick and won British Video of the Year at the 1996 Brit Awards.

In Australia, it was voted number 1 on the alternative music radio station Triple J's Hottest 100 of 1995 and "20 Years of the Hottest 100" in 2013. In May 2005, "Wonderwall" was voted the best British song of all time, in a poll of over 8,500 listeners conducted by Virgin Radio. In October 2020, it became the first song from the 1990s to reach one billion streams on Spotify.

"Wonderwall" received a total of 80,2% yes votes!

[vintagegeekculture]

I remember a friend of mine had some LPs that were Star Wars themed disco albums, and it brought back a very weird memory from back in the 70s (yes, I'm old!) of listening to a Star Wars disco mashup on the radio. What was all that about? I also remember something like that for Close Encounters, too.

You remember correctly, and this went on for a long while. In 1983, disk jockeys around the country played a record that involved an Ewok rapping the plot of Return of the Jedi in Ewokese. This made it to #60 in the Billboard Top 100.

This is hard to explain to people who weren’t there….but in the wake of Star Wars in the late 70s and early 80s, scifi was so beloved and mainstream that the orchestral music for nerdy scifi and fantasy movies about outer space were remixed and sampled into Giorgio Moroder-esque Italo-Disco dance numbers. And the most astonishing thing is, instead of being consigned to convention acts the way “horse famous” Brony dubstep acts are, this received national airplay on the radio, reached the pop music charts, and were played in discotheques. And incredibly, this continued for years and expanded from Star Wars into Star Trek, Wizard of Oz, Black Hole, Close Encounters….

All of this was the work of one specific person: Meco (or Dominico Monardo). The term “ahead of their time” is thrown around a lot, but Meco really was: a combination producer-songwriter and Italo-Disco pioneer in the style of Giorgio Moroder, he did several things that are now absolutely standard: he used remixes and sampling before hiphop made that standard for musicians, he wrote “fandom music” on a Moog synthesizer decades before Bronies turned their conventions into cringey dubstep concerts with songs like “Everypony Dance Now.”

It's stunning to me that Meco has not been rediscovered, considering every single trend in the culture essentially went his way.

The most startling thing about Meco’s Star Wars disco album, the one that got the ball rolling on this trend, is this: I always assumed it was some kind of cash in created by a record label mandate, a label executive’s completely cynical choice to hop on a hot new trend. That isn’t a crazy thing to think at all, since Star Wars is and always has been the most merchandized and sold out scifi property ever. But it wasn’t! You see, it was all the product of a single man’s specific vision: Meco had to convince his record label to make the record because they were skeptical.

When Meco went to see Star Wars in 1977 on Opening Day (what an experience that must have been) with his friend and fellow Italian chest hair/gold medallion enthusiast Tony Bongiovi, he was already an experienced producer-songwriter who had worked with Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, and formed DCA, the Disco Corporation of America. If you've ever listened to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out," Meco actually played the trombone solo in that song. Seeing the Star Wars movie for the first time, though Meco thought the movie was nothing short of a religious experience. Originally, he wanted to do Star Wars music as a b-side on a Gloria Gaynor album, but expanded the idea into an entire album.

In Meco’s own words:

"When I think about what I did, nobody came to me, nobody said 'Meco, why don't you do this.' Nobody says 'Here's some money go make a record of this movie.' It was just my own... It was magical, it was just out of this world when all that happened."

Not only did this album hit platinum, not only did it actually outsell the Star Wars soundtrack, his remix of the Star Wars theme also went to #1 in the charts. It’s actually the best selling instrumental single of all time. A record, that, incidentally, it holds to this day.

Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand, had this to say about Meco:

"In 1977, Meco Monardo accomplished something no one else has ever done to the best of my knowledge. He was the first one in history to out-sell the soundtrack of a motion picture with his own distinctive version of a film's music. The music was totally danceable, and broke new ground. It's no wonder the STAR WARS THEME went to # 1. I loved his treatment of music from THE WIZARD OF OZ. Again, Meco created something innovative. The fun and the excitement gave a whole new feel to that totally familiar and well-loved music."

Like a lot of studio producers, Meco had an insane work ethic and hit when the iron was hot: he did an album about Close Encounters that exact same year, but also did a Star Wars Christmas Album, one of the strangest pieces of Star Wars kitsch around.

One of the most interesting things about the Star Wars Christmas album is that one of the songs, “R2D2’s Wish You a Merry Christmas” is the first professional vocals by John Bon Jovi, who was Meco’s friend Tony Bongiovi’s seventeen year old younger cousin (he was initially known as John Bongiovi). It's incredible to hear a squeaky voiced teen Bon Jovi on a kitsch album about a robot Christmas.

1978-1979 was really his best year. Meco made an Italo-Disco remix album entirely devoted to Superman, and at this point, Meco had the pull to get access to John Williams's sheet music for the score before the music even came out. In my personal opinion it's the best of them because he has to recreate it entirely with his own instruments, leading to a very unique sound.

He also did an album based on the Wizard of Oz:

And a combination album of Star Trek/Black Hole. It's probably the earliest remixing date of Goldsmith pieces of music: the Motion Picture Theme (which is now associated with the Next Generation - hearing it done in Italodisco is uncanny) and the Klingon Theme:

Incidentally, I think the design here of the Meco Enterprise, which had to be modified for legal reasons, would make a wonderful canon starship if anyone wants to be inspired by it. It reminds me of the same concept that would be used in the very next film for the Reliant-class of ships.

Meco eventually retired from music in 1985, but unfortunately he is no longer with us, as he passed into the next dimension in 2023. I think he showed us that creativity is often about transformation, and was inspired to make his art by a legitimate awe of space, the cosmos, and human imagination that the scifi movies of the 1970s and 80s provoke.

[13uswntimagines]

Safe Harbor (Alessia X Singer!R)

Summary: R is a very famous singer at the end of a very long, very crazy tour. Alessia is there to take care of her.

Warmings: Established D/s dynamics. The use of Daddy, and Collars. No smut.

You knew that you were living a dream.

You knew that millions of people would trade everything to be in the position you were in. 

They would do anything to have stadiums scream their name and for their songs to play on the radio for the world to hear. 

You had been plucked out of obscurity after you unsuspectingly played a bar in Leeds in front of Ed Sheeran when you were 16. A year and a half later you had taken Billboard's Hot 100 by storm, broken the record for most weeks at number one by a new artist… twice, and you were opening for Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour.

That had just been the beginning. 

Now you were on your 3rd world tour, selling out stadiums for yourself, with one of the best-selling albums of all time. 

It was… crazy that a kid from Maidstone who barely had enough to eat growing up had thousands of people screaming your name every night, singing your lyrics back to you like they were anthems. 

Your music was raw, personal. Painfully autobiographical. 

Your fans picked apart every lyric, dissecting your words with obsessive precision. The heartbreak, the loss, the fear woven into every track—they clung to it like it was their story, too. Before You Go, Say Something, Thinking Out Loud—each song became a window into your soul. And they were desperate to see more.

It was why your first album had gone platinum overnight, and every album after it had debuted at number 1. 

They resonated with your honesty, and that’s what made people fall in love with it.

You had expected that part. 

What you hadn’t expected was that they hadn’t just fallen in love with the music—they had fallen in love with you.

The girl with the sunny personality, and the commanding stage presence. The girl who smiled brightly at every meet-and-greet, made them laugh at every interview, and always took time to meet fans, even after long days in the studio or on music video sets. They built you up as their idol, their friend, their fantasy. They flirted with you in meet-and-greets before you were 18 and treated you like you belonged to them. Like they were entitled to every part of you.

At some point, you became an enigma—Y/N Y/L/N, the nine-time Grammy winner. The infallible pop star. The face that was painted on the side of billboards, and smiling in Colgate commercials. 

At some point, just Y/n failed to exist to them, and you liked it that way. 

You did well to dodge their invasive questions, running interviewers around in circles, and answering fans with witty remarks to avoid answering. And over the years (and through 4 albums), you only got better at preventing the fans from learning anything of substance about your private life. The only glimpses they got were through your music, and you liked to keep it that way. 

You did your best to keep it that way.

The only time you let them get close, let the world peek behind the curtain, was during the piano set of your concerts. 

It was dubbed the surprise song set by the fans even though 2 of 3 songs never changed. It was where you sang your most emotional songs, and where you let yourself be vulnerable. Open. Real. 

Tonight was no different. Or at least, you were trying to convince yourself of that.

You sucked in a long breath, your fingers tracing the black and white keys as the final chords of Bruises echoed through the stadium, curling off the walls and over the crowd. Their energy buzzed around you, rolling like an ocean wave.

You could feel it crashing against your chest, adding to the adrenaline bubbling through your veins. 

You took another deep breath, the air catching in your throat as you tried to control your breathing enough so you could talk. So you could give your signature speech before revealing the night's surprise song. 

Maybe tonight was different. 

You felt more… exposed.

More… vulnerable. 

This year was nothing short of a whirlwind. Eighty sold-out shows across the U.S. in the summer, followed by another thirty in Europe and the UK. Three back-to-back number-one singles—no small feat—only knocked from the top spot after 18 weeks by Taylor Swift herself.

It was amazing and incredible and exhausting all rolled together. 

You dearly loved your fans, their passion, and their devotion, but you were drained. 

Your eyes slid closed, allowing the bone-deep weariness to cut through the buzz from the crowd for just a second as you pulled your fingers from the keys, briefly rubbing the leather braided bracelet around your wrist as you reset for the next song.

It was the closest thing you’d had to your girlfriend's touch in nearly 2 months, and it wasn’t nearly enough. One soft touch from her would make it all melt away. 

One touch and she would take away the burden of control that had plagued you since you started the tour. 

You would finally be able to let go and just be.  

There were only 6 songs left and then you would be with her, your lighthouse on rocky seas. Your anchor on stormy nights. 

You took another deep breath. 

It was the last show of an incredible year, and you had something very very special planned.

Something no one would see coming. 

Your eyes blinked open as the crowd noise dipped, and you painted your signature smirk on your face as you leaned back toward the mic. 

“So Wembley, how are we feeling?” You asked into the microphone, smiling widely at the roar from the audience that met you. “Fantastic,”

You brought your fingers to the piano, letting them dance delicately across the keys. They had no particular rhythm, though they were in the key that your surprise song would be in. 

You wanted to avoid giving the surprise away yet. 

“So you know, I was thinking about what song I was going to play tonight, trying to figure out which one would be the perfect end to such an amazing tour,” You couldn’t help the little laugh that left you as the audience got impossibly louder, cheering out an indistinguishable mix of song titles that you had yet to play on this tour. You paused for a long second, feeling their cheers only grow, popping your in-ear monitor out for effect. 

It was endearing really, how into it they got (especially when you found out that they had created an entire fantasy league about what version of your outfits you would wear and what songs you would sing). They made it easy to pretend like you were having the time of your life instead of fantasizing about what you would be doing in 40 minutes. 

You shook your head, popping the monitor back into your ear and your fingers returning to the keys, letting their chants fill you up, and drive you forward. 

“And I was talking to one of my favorite people,” You continued, starting to pick out a tune that was a bit closer to the song you were going to play. “Now you all know I don’t normally take requests, but this being the final night of the Eclipse World Tour, and with such special guests in the audience I couldn’t quite say no,” 

Your eyes instinctually found Alessia as you hit the opening chord, and though you could see her expression you could feel her gaze burning into you. 

Seeing through you. 

Even surrounded by people, her attention was the only one you craved. 

“It’s a song I haven’t played for a long time, so I’m going to need your help.” You continued, Never breaking eye contact with her. “Will you help me tonight Wembley?”

The crowd roared in approval, and goosebumps erupted on your skin at the sheer energy they projected at you. It filled your chest and fueled your fingers as you finally hit the signature piano riff that opened the song.

You flashed the crowd your signature smirk, all essence of yourself slipping beneath your on-stage persona. 

And when you opened your mouth to sing the first line; it felt easy. It felt right.

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands 

Closed your eyes and trusted

Just trusted 

*****

Watching you perform was magic. 

It had always been magic. 

Whether it was a show in Wembley in front of 100,000 people, or one when you were small with a guitar the same size as you, Alessia had always been mesmerized by you. Even before the two of you were old enough to put names to what you were feeling. 

It didn’t matter that she had seen you play thousands (hundreds of thousands) of times, nor that this was not her first time attending one of the shows on this tour. 

She leaned forward on the barricade separating the VIP tent from the Floor sections as you began to play the piano break. 

“She’s incredible,” Leah said, leaning closer to Alessia to be heard above the crowd. “They’re eating out of the palm of her hand,”

Alessia hummed. “She is,”

The audience was glued to every move, every breath you took on stage. She was too, and so were all of her teammates. 

What made it even better was that you were hers, and she got to enjoy you from her favorite seat in the house. 

They hadn’t originally been slated to be in the VIP tent.

Viv had organized the tickets, picking an area on the 2nd balcony because they were the only ones left. Alessia had gone along with it, only mentioning to you that 800$ was crazy for a 2nd tier balcony ticket in passing.

You had sleepily agreed, cursing Ticketmaster and reminding Alessia of the 10-hour meetings you had endured when your fans crashed the site during pre-sale. You hadn’t said anything about it since, so she assumed you had forgotten. 

You did not forget. 

There had been a team waiting to escort them when they arrived, and you had made sure the tent was loaded with all of their favorites. You had also refunded the tickets, and given them away to 23 fans outside of the stadium. 

You liked to do things for her. It was a way for you to serve her even from a distance, and she enjoyed telling you how good you were afterward. 

She definitely had plans to do that tonight. 

She leaned forward on the barrier as you got to the final chorus. 

There was a reason this spot was always her favorite to watch the show from, and why she had been hesitant when they escorted her and her friends to the tent. 

They were close to the stage. Close enough that Alessia could see the cracks in your carefully crafted facade. 

She could see the dark circles under your eyes, and how your smile never met your eyes. She could see the slight curl of your shoulders, and how you kept twisting your bracelet tightly around your wrist. 

She could see the command you had of the crowd wearing on you, and just how in your head you were. 

All of her instincts told her to protect you. To wrap you up, and take the reigns so you could just exist without thinking. So you could submit and know that she would take care of you. 

And sure, her teammates had caught glimpses of the dynamic between the two of you, but you both liked to keep the heavier aspects to yourselves.

It was harder for her to do that when she had watched the toll this tour had taken on you, and knew just how close you were to being able to let go. 

“Is it just me or does she look shattered,” Katie asked as the song came to an end, the final note ringing around the stadium as your eyes once again closed and you sucked in air through your nose. 

Alessia didn’t take her eyes away from you. “Not just you,”

She followed the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and how your fingers silently fluttered over the keys before you began to play again. 

“She’s barely slept at all this week because of end-of-tour meetings,” Alessia continued as you began picking out a new tune. “And she’s been co-producing an album that comes out next month, so she’s barely had time to think, much less do anything else.” 

Leah hummed from her other side. “I’m just surprised you haven’t stepped in yet.” 

Alessia made a low sound in the back of her throat. 

It was… complicated. 

While Alessia had rules that you followed (even while you were on tour) to help protect both your physical and mental health, you both had boundaries when it came to your careers. 

She understood that you had responsibilities and that sometimes you had to prioritize work to make everything run smoothly. (She also secretly relished watching you in boss mode, knowing that you would be kneeling at her feet later.)

The agreement you had was that she would only interfere under 2 conditions. First, if you crossed the Limits the two of you had agreed upon years ago without communicating with Alessia first. Second, if you asked.

“Tonight I will,” Alessia said as your eyes opened and you leaned back towards the microphone, your fingers dancing along the keys.

“Since we have the incredible women of Arsenal in the audience tonight, I think there’s one more song we have to do before continuing the show,” 

The audience roared in response. 

Your smile was charming, even as your eyes danced vacantly across the screaming fans in the pit next to the small stage that held your piano. 

Alessia could imagine the edits that would be online later, the people swearing that your expression was solely meant for them. They would think the way you twisted your bracelet was to show them how much you liked the copies they wore. 

She shook her head. 

The chords under your fingers changed, shifting into another familiar tune. 

North London Forever 

Whatever the Weather

You pulled back from the microphone, tilting your head to the sky as the fans picked up the song all around you. 

The stage lights swelled around you, illuminating the crowd as they sang for you. Your fingers deftly played the background music for the song. 

She could understand why it was a tradition for you. Why you always added North London Forever to the last show of your tours, especially when you ended in London. 

And my heart will leave you never 

My blood will forever

Goosebumps erupted on her skin as the crowd of 100,000 sang the rest of the chorus, and pride swelled in her chest, replacing her worry for just a moment. 

You wouldn’t have done a sing along if you were too far gone. 

Your relationship was built on trust, and Alessia trusted that you were ok for now. She would step in when the show was over, and you were ready. 

****

“Thank you London,”

The final notes of Shut Up and Dance pounded through the stadium. 

You held your arms out wide, as if to physically soak in their cheers as the stage lights dimmed, leaving only one shining against your back, silhouetting you for the audience In a perfect replica of your album cover. Then everything went dark, and the platform you had been standing on lowered so you were under the stage. 

“Great show Y/n,” Your tour manager, Aubrey, said as you stepped off the lift, the crowd noise barely fading.

You nodded in response, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to form words. it felt like you were trying to think through an old television with terrible reception, the images staticy and broken. Fatigue settled into your bones, heavy and cold. 

A soft robe was draped over your shoulders by one of the production crew, and you twisted the bracelet around your wrist until the edges cut into your skin.

You focused on the pain, letting it ground you as you put one foot in front of the other and allowed your team to guide you from beneath the stage. 

your security team flanked you the second you were out from under the stage, acting like a protective wall. 

“You need to rehydrate.” Steve, your head of security said, pressing a blue Gatorade into your fingers.

They instinctively closed around the bottle, and Steve nudged you again to get you to bring it to your lips. 

“Small sips kid,” Clint added from your other side, as the third member of your security team, Natasha, made eye contact with Steve

You tried to follow their directions, but your hands were shaking so badly you almost dropped the drink. 

You felt Powerful. 

You felt… floaty.

It was so… weird. It usually took you hours to come down from the high of a show, and devolve into… whatever this was. 

To finally give in and call your girlfriend for help. 

You had been… reluctant to bother her in the last few weeks. 

She had been busy with international friendlies, and you didn’t exactly like exploring your dynamic while you were separated. 

Dropping into sub space was hard for you on a good day, guided by Alessia‘s firm but comforting presence. Doing it while the two of you were doing long distance was a painful impossibility. 

The few times it had actually worked were misery for you. Like your brain was made of broken glass and no one was there to help you knit the fractured shards back together. 

Even with her voice on the other end of a video call, it had been brutal. 

You had put it off, and put it off, and now it seemed that your body wasn’t going to give you a choice. 

“I’ll be back.” Natasha said, turning on her heel as Steve shifted to shield you from the people buzzing around backstage. 

You didn’t even acknowledge her, blinking slowly as cling helped you bring the bottle of Gatorade to your lips. 

“Take deep breaths.” Clint said gently. “We have to get to the tunnel.”

You tried, but it was like you were under water, or sucking air through a straw. 

You were crashing, and you still had to face the public one last time before you could let go. 

You swallowed hard, forcing the fog in your brain away and your signature smirk on your face. 

It would satisfy the people waiting for you to make your way out from behind the stage and into the safety of the stadium halls, away from prying eyes.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, pushing the Gatorade back towards Steve. 

It took all of your strength just to utter the word, and you knew it would take every bit of mental fortitude you had to wave at the fans as you passed. 

But it was required.

It was the least you could do for the people who bought obstructed view seats. A thing you had done for every one of your other shows. A thing fans would absolutely notice if you didn’t do it. 

It didn’t matter how much you didn’t want to. 

“Let’s do it.” Clint agreed, positioning his hand on the small of your back, while Steve did the same on your other side. 

You straightened and squared your shoulders. 

You could do this one last act for your fans. Then you could let go. 

*******

“That show is incredible,” Beth said, leaning against the VIP barricade. “I don’t know how she runs around like that for 3 and a half hours,”

“A lot of cardio,” Leah shrugged. “She released a whole behind the scenes video of how she trained for the tour.”

“That video felt staged though.” Viv said. “She was very different then she usually is with us, or you Less,”

The English striker hummed. “She likes to keep separation between her professional life and her private life.” 

“Makes sense.” Katie agreed. “Did you see how many people had braided bracelets in all different colors?”

“I did.” Alessia nodded, her eyes trailing across the area near the stage, looking for your personal assistant. “But they have no clue what hers actually means. You all know her, but the fans just know the idea of her. It’s easier to keep it all separated.” 

It was strange that she hadn’t seen your assistant yet. That she hadn’t come to retrieve her and the team. 

Chloe was usually waiting at the VIP tent to take her backstage before the last fireworks of the show had even finished. 

It had alarm bells swirling in her brain. 

“It’s kind of amazing how confident she is on stage.” Beth agreed. “It’s like she’s 2 different people.” 

“Sometimes she is.” Alessia trailed off spotting a different redhead coming around the stage. Your security instead of your assistant. 

It was hard to wrap her head around the dichotomy between your loud, confident persona on stage and the quiet girl she knew you were, and as your career grew, that difference had only gotten larger. 

Her eyebrows furrowed as Natasha approached them, nodding towards her friends before meeting her eyes. “I need to borrow you, please,”

Katie whistled. “Get it Lessie,” 

“Gotta get that post concert energy out,” Kyra snickered, and the tear erupted into laughter behind her. 

She shot a glare towards her cackling team. “Of course,”

Natasha was a part of your personal security. She didn’t need words to convey that you needed Alessia, and you needed her now. 

“Alone please,” Natasha said, her eyes flickering towards the girls who tried to exit the tent with Alessia. 

The laughter stopped around them, and Alessia nodded once, turning back towards the team. 

“We’ll catch up with you lot tomorrow?” Alessia said, authority that the team rarely heard leaking into her tone. “We can do lunch, or maybe Dinner.” 

Leah stepped forward and nodded, knowing this was not the time to argue with her. “Tell y/n thank you for the tickets and that we send our love,”

“Go take care of your superstar,” Beth nodded towards Natasha.

“I will,” Alessia nodded, stepping out of the tent. 

She meant it. 

You had taken care of yourself for most of the tour. It was her turn now. 

******

You didn’t remember how you got to your dressing room. You didn’t remember waving to the fans, smiling widely and sending them hand hearts. 

one second you were backstage, and then you blinked and Steve was gently closing the dressing room door behind you. 

You paced the room, pushing the dark robe off of your shoulders. You didn't know what to do with yourself. 

It was too warm and too cold. The dress shirt you wore on stage was too soft and too scratchy. Your mind was racing too fast and moving too slow all at once. 

your breathing hitched, and you brought your trembling fingers of one and to your lips to prevent the sobs threatening to bubble out. The other tugged useless at your collar, trying to get air. This was not normal. It was rare you dropped, let alone this hard or this deep. 

It was like quicksand, sucking you into the chaotic spiral deeper, faster, with more force the more you tried to fight it. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, and your brain was going to rip itself apart trying to untangle them. 

You were in free fall, plummeting faster than you ever had before with no net to catch you. You had put it off for too long, and now you had no choice.

You knew you needed to do something, but making the decision of what you should do felt impossible. 

You were done making decisions for the foreseeable future. 

The sound of the door clicking open and shut again was nearly drowned out by the buzzing in your ears, but you Instinctively turned towards the presence that entered. 

The air shifted around her as she stood in front of you like a mirage, immediately capturing all of your attention. For just a split second, your racing thoughts went quiet, and you were wholly consumed by her presence. It crackled like a warm fire on a cold day, or like a lightning storm over the sea. You couldn't decide. 

You didn’t want to decide. 

And you knew you didn’t need to. 

Alessia- No, your Daddy was here and she would take care of everything. 

Her gaze swept over you, taking in every twitch of your fingers against the buttons of your shirt, and the tremble that snaked its way across your shoulders and down your spine. You felt naked, despite the clothing scratching at your skin. 

She crossed the room in 3 long strides, her hands catching your wrist before you even registered that she had moved. 

”That’s enough, little one.” She said, keeping her voice gentle despite the command clear in it. “You’ve done so well, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m here now.”

She carefully unwound your fingers from here they were tearing at your shirt, placing them on her hips before deftly undoing the buttons. “I’ve got you. Just take deep breaths for me, love,” 

You tried, but it felt like it was stuck in your throat, trapped by the inhuman sound now bubbling past your lips. 

She carefully slid the thin material of your shirt from your shoulders, and you met her eyes. 

The sob you’d been holding in finally broke free, your knees weakening as the weight of it all hit you. But before you could completely crumble, Alessia’s arms were around you, pulling you into her chest. Her scent, her warmth, everything about her surrounded you like a safety net.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, and she rested her cheek on the top of your head. “You’ve done so well, you can relax now. I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere,” 

Her other hand ran soothing circles on your back, easing the prickles on your skin like the world's best Aloe. “Just breathe, love.”

Her comforting touch seeped past your skin, settling deep into your bones. It eased the knotted panic in your chest, and dulled the sharp, frantic edges of anxiety that raced through you. 

“That’s it little one,” She cooed, her grip on your firm and unyielding. It was tether to reality. An anchor in the crashing storm that was your mind. A lifeline when you were being pulled beneath the tide.

“You’re safe. You’re here with me, and I will always keep you safe. Just relax,”

Her voice was as steady as her grip on you. Commanding in a way that couldn’t be ignored, but soft enough that it didn’t bristle your sensitive instincts. It was a mixture that only Alessia seemed to be able to achieve. A tone she could modulate to perfectly match the situation. 

You melted into her chest, nodding weakly as your tears slowed. Your entire body shuttered with each inhale, and hitched with each breath you blew out. 

You were moving past the uncomfortable phase of the drop where your brain felt like a shattered glass mirror, fractured and sharp, and into the lapping warmth that only Alessia seemed to be able to bring you. 

Alessia’s hands continued their slow, comforting path up and down your back, her breath even and calm, giving you a rhythm to sync your own to. 

“That’s it, little one,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re such a good girl for me. You’ve done so well. Just let it all go.”

You whimpered. 

It felt too raw, too exposed. But Alessia knew—she always knew.

Her fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were soft, but her tone left no room for argument.

“Look at me.” She said, using a finger to gently tilt your chin up. “You’ve done so well being in charge. You’ve run this entire tour, and made so many people happy. I’m so proud of you, but you can let go now. Let me be in charge for a little while,” She capped the statement with a gentle peck to your lips. 

You tried to lean in to continue the kiss, but she pulled away. 

“Later,” She promised, and you nodded once, sinking back into her chest. 

You understood that she didn’t like to start anything while you were like this unless it was well discussed beforehand. While there was any chance that you couldn’t consent, or feel like you could remove consent. 

You weren’t sure how long she stood there and held you, rocking gently from side to side and scratching your scalp. Long enough for the storm in your chest to mellow and for your brain to slowly begin knitting itself back together, grounded in the gentle pressure of your girlfriend. Your daddy.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then we can go home,” She said, when you pulled back enough to look at her. “Do you want your collar?” 

you nodded against her chest, kissing gently under her chin. 

“I need a verbal response, little one,” She said, dominance leaking into her tone to help you wade through the thick fog coating the crevices of your brain. 

It took you a long second to think of the words, and another to push the fog in your mind back enough to actually verbalize them. 

“Yes Daddy,” You said, frowning at how horse and garbled your voice was. 

she hummed, carefully maneuvering you back towards the door. One hand stayed securely wrapped around you as the other reached into the bag you hadn’t seen her enter with and pulled out your soft, brown leather collar. 

You hadn’t seen it since you left for tour, and just the sight was almost enough to send you back into a drop. 

“Easy,” Alessia murmured, guiding you towards the couch that existed in all of your dressing rooms. She sat you on the edge, and kneeled in front of you so she was slightly shorter than you. 

She trailed her hand down your arm to the bracelet around your wrist, carefully unclasping it and tucking it into her pocket. She then brought the soft leather of your regular collar to your neck, gently buckling it closed, making sure it wasn’t too tight. 

Your shoulders immediately relaxed, the full weight of her claim settling on you. 

“Let’s get cleaned up,” She said, catching your hand and standing you up. You went with her easily, leaning your weight on her as she led you to the bathroom. 

The way she undressed you both and got you settled into the warm water of the shower was familiar, routine even. 

You could feel yourself settling as she washed your hair, and cleaned your body of the sweat from the show. 

She touched you like you were delicate, but not like you were fragile, and it was everything you needed to wade back to reality. 

By the time she was using a towel to dry you off, and slipping one of her old UNC sweatshirts over your head you felt almost like yourself again. Your thoughts didn’t hurt anymore, and you were more grounded then you had been. 

“Kneel for me,” She said softly, settling herself on the couch, and placing a pillow at her feet. 

You hummed, and did as she asked, letting her guide you to lean back on her legs. 

You sunk into the warmth of her sweatshirt, surrounded by the scent of her perfume as she toweled off your hair and braided It for you. 

The rhythmic movement of her fingers through your hair and the feeling of safety and Alessia that encompassed you were enough to have your eyelids drooping. 

You blinked heavily at the knock that sounded on the door, and the blonde head of your head of security poking his head in. 

Steve didn’t look at you, steadfastly keeping his eyes on Alessia. “Miss Russo, we have the car ready whenever you are ready to leave.” 

“Thank you, Steven,” She said softly, authority still dripping from her tone. “We’ll be out in a few minutes,”

He nodded and closed the door quietly as he exited. 

“You’re all done, little one,” Alessia said, rubbing gentle circles in your shoulders, as you leaned further into her, your eyes sliding closed without your permission. 

They only opened when she shifted behind you, and you turned to look at her sleepily. 

She smiled gently at you, unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your lips. 

This was her favorite version of you, soft and sleepy, unguarded and completely trusting. It was the version that only she got to see, and she was honored that you had chosen her to be your safe place. 

”Alright little one,” She said, her finger hooked into the O-ring at the front of your collar, tugging lightly as she stood. “Let’s go home,”

[heartmix]

Post Break Up Hair - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x ex!reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning: ex's, stupid reason for breaking up, a bit of angst with happy ending, making fun of joe's blonde buzzcut

A/N: wrote this after last nights game against the giants. I saw that his hair was getting back to normal. I could not take him seriously when he debuted his new look, i think i got the ick when i first saw it.

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

"Slim Shady Burrow!"

"Joe Burrow rocking a new look ahead of the next season."

"Blonde and a Buzzcut for the Bengals QB."

You were not expecting Joe to go into full breakdown mode once you broke up during training camp. The break up was mutual enough for harsh things not to be said, but it was nonetheless heartbreaking. The break up was brought up by you, after the last two seasons and losing in the super bowl, Joe's mental hasn't been the best so the most logical thing to do was take a break. Of course Joe was against it, but you somehow convinced him to try it. After hours of arguing he gave in with tears streaming down his face. Years of trying to be there for him, it didn't seem like it was working so what else were you supposed to do. When he first joined the NFL you promised to help him make his career better and this was your final effort. 

Seeing the headlines of your ex's new hair cut, you couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He was definitely a girl in his past life. No other man you know would go to that extreme after a break up. Although part of you couldn't help but feel bad. It was evident he was taking the break up hard. Sure he might've looked good for training camp and got more attention because of the hair cut, but once season started it was like nothing improve, it looked like it go worst. 

By week six, their record was 1-4. One of the worst starts to the season they had in awhile. Their only win came from the panthers, a team that was worst than them so it only made sense that they would win against the team. By that point you couldn't help but be hit with regret and sorrow. You couldn't help but think that you breaking up with Joe was making his season worst. I mean how could you not think that especially seeing them losing the first game of the season to the patriots, a team who was still trying to function without Belichick.

At this point, you could not take it. Seeing them in that state was depressing. You knew that reaching out to Joe would life his spirits. You were determined to change his mood before their game against the giants. With that being said you felt like calling or texting him out of the blue asking to get back together would be weird. If the roles were revered, no way would you take him back. 

The next idea was to surprise him at the game and hope he sees you during warm ups. You still had season passes in the family section thanks to joe putting your name down. Every week for a home game you got the email about the unused tickets. This week you would take advantage of it. 

Making your way into the stadium, you planned it early enough so there wouldn't be an abundant amount of people, so Joe can spot you more easily. As you made your way to the family section you recognized a few of the wags who looked at you with shock written all over their faces. It's made its way around the locker room that you and Joe broke up so their expression wasn't out of the blue. 

After greeting them and answering questions it was time for the team to start making their way out. Immediately you locked onto Joe. His buzzcut was growing out and his blonde was turning more platinum. He looked good, better than he did during training. For awhile he was locked in doing a couple of stretches and a few passing routes. After awhile his eyes scanned the bleachers, appreciating all the fans that would be there to see them. Suddenly his eyes passed onto your section and you were the first person he laid his eyes on. He couldn't believe it was you. His eyes held shock with his mouth agape. Ja'marr came up to his friend to see what made him look like he saw a ghost, suddenly his eyes landed on you and a smirk appeared on his face. As if Joe was in a trace Ja'marr broke him out of it by nudging him in your section. 

Seeing him run up to your section you made your way down to the railing to get as close as you can. For a second both of you just stared at each other being to nervous to say anything. It was Joe who broke the silence first.

"You're here."

"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about what to say for weeks but now i don't have words." You got out, your nerves taking over the whole speech you had in your head. 

"Weeks?"

"I realized I made a mistake to break things up. I thought it would be better for you, but it was worst, i'm sorry."

"I missed you." He said caving in right away. Any normal person would make you work for it, but Joe just missed you. He knew deep down that you didn't really want to break up, you were just thinking about his career. He shouldn't have let you go so easily, it was him who hasn't been performing well not you.

"I missed you since the day I walked out that door."

"Is the 'taking a break' part of our life over?" He asked with hope in his eyes. He was begging at this point. He didn't care who was around or what cameras were on him, he wanted you back.

"If you're willing to take me back." You smiled making one grow on his face. Suddenly he jumped on on the railing coming face to face with you. He wasted no time grabbing the back of your head and pulling you into a kiss. Both of you melted into the kiss and neither one of you wanted to pull back, but the need for air forced you both to. 

"You're telling me i could've had that weeks ago?" His infamous smirk returned to his face. There was the Joe you knew.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to be photographed with your post break up hair, I was waiting till you grew it a bit." You teased running a hand through his growing hair making him melt into your touch. 

"Are you serious." his smirk dropped making you let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm dead serious. You look like Cody Rhodes and I couldn't get the image out of my head."

"That teaches you a lesson. Never break up with me again."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Now go win this game so we can go home and I can dye your hair back to brown." You lightly shoved him seeing as he was losing grip on the railing.  

"One last kiss for good luck." He pleaded making you smile and give in. 

[wisteriagoesvroom]

actually it was 12

i am sooooo accomplished*

*i sent 4 emails today