#and i'm on the madonna album

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

absolutely love the "will schuester, i hate you" in the glee version of vogue

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

btw

CHANGING STATES

Lately, something has taken hold / of me—not hunger, not shame. It is like a flower / blooming in the injury. —Richie Hofmann

On the evening Jeremiah decides he’ll drive thirty hours to Maryland, the other half of his mattress is cold and Madonna’s on the radio. In his bedroom, he taps his cigarette on the windowsill, the ash scattering into rainy blue hour, and listens. Time goes by so slowly, she goes, her voice singed through his boombox’s broken speakers. He’s meant to replace it, though he’s meant to do a lot of things: check the mail, make a quiche, buy lightbulbs, call his sister, take up cross-stitch, recycle an olive jar, move his bed to the opposite side of his room. But time goes by so slowly, and Jeremiah would know—he’s twenty-one, yet feels he’s been alive for much, much longer.

[bluenotemagpie]

catching up on doctor who. surprising nobody, this former theatre kid who had a major beatles phase at the age of 12 and a major doctor who phase at the age of 14 is a big fan of the devil's chord

[musicalthought]

album review; madonna's i'm breathless

♡ released in may 1990

♡ jazz; pop; swing

♡ overall rating: 8.4/10

Most accurate depiction of camp I’ve seen in a while, and also just a really great album. It’s fun, it’s cheesy, it’s corny, it’s sweet, it’s naughty, it’s Madonna’s image rolled into 12 stand out tracks. Definitely one of the better Madonna albums I’ve listened to so far!

A song by song review can be found underneath the cut. My favorite tracks are I’m Going Bananas, Cry Baby, More, and Vogue. My least favorite track is Something to Remember.

 He’s a Man -> 6.5/10

Sooner or Later -> 7/10

Hanky Panky -> 9/10

I’m Going Bananas -> 10/10

Cry Baby -> 10/10

Something to Remember -> 4/10

Back in Business -> 8/10

More -> 10/10

What Can You Lose -> 8.5/10

Now I’m Following You (Part 1) -> 8/10

Now I’m Following You (Part 2) -> 8.5/10

Vogue -> 10/10

[ozskob]

Madonna's 5th studio album & a concept album due to her role as Breathless Mahony in the film Dick Tracy. Also shown is my very 1st Madonna single, the Oz cassingle for Vogue/Keep it Together.

[bloodstained-ballgowns]

dance fever is just such a great fucking album man. "you say that rock and roll is dead, but is that just because it has not been resurrected in your image?" is still one of my favourite lyrics of all time. 'king' flummoxes me every time i listen to it. it's got myth vs realism. deification and iconoclasm. art as communal experience, as identity, as the lines between individual healing, catharsis, and destruction. #depression, self-sabotage, nostalgia. madonna-whore complex mockery. "it's good to be alive, crying into cereal at midnight" "when i decided to wage holy war, it looked very much like staring at my bedroom floor" it's got humour. "what a thing to admit, that when someone looks at me with real love, i don't like it very much. kinda makes me feel like i'm being crushed." !! there's a whole song where the chorus is just the word daffodil over and over again and it's a banger.

also there was a real gap in the market for an album based around a 14th century european mass hysterical dancing epidemic so i'm glad that got filled.

[wideeyedloner]

I've seen so many posts talking about the Honda scene being a visual metaphor for Deadpool and Wolverine having sex that I want to talk about the film as a whole for a second:

Deadpool & Wolverine is a romantic comedy.

There are a bunch of places (including this one) that describe the format of a romantic comedy, but the basic beats are as follows:

1. Introduction to your protagonist "Okay, Peanut, guess we're getting that team-up, after all." Deadpool and Wolverine opens on Wade digging up Logan's remains from Logan (2017).

2. The inciting incident "I'll do it." Paradox kidnaps Wade and blackmails him into locating a Logan to save his timeline. Cue "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls, featured in City of Angels (1998).

3. The meet-cute "You two going to fuck or fight?" After initially failing to resurrect his own timeline's Logan, Wade travels to several other timelines to find another in a montage set to Huey Lewis and the News' "The Power of Love".

4. The new reality/new world "Let's fuckin' go." Paradox sends them to the Void, ruled by Xavier's insane twin sister, where it turns out many other mutants have also been sent. They need to escape in order to save Wade's timeline and try to undo the events of Logan's timeline, which Wade has promised is possible. This requires them to work together.

5. The mirror moment/recommitment "I'm going to fight you now." Logan finds out that Wade lied to him in order to secure his cooperation, leading to the Honda fight scene set to "You're The One That I Want" from Grease (1978). Logan is demoralized but Laura convinces him that he's still needed. He really is; it's his compassion that convinces Cassandra not only to spare their lives, but to send them back to Wade's timeline if they're willing to take a leap of faith together.

6. The crisis/all is lost "They do not play nicely with each other." Cassandra is still insane, so she follows them because she'd like to eliminate all timelines and rule over everyone in the Void. To stop this, Paradox tells Wade and Logan that someone has to cut power to the device she's using at the guaranteed expense of their life.

7. The climax "I got nothin'. Give me this." Naturally, Wade and Logan fight over which one gets the privilege of sacrificing himself for the other. Logan initially wins him over with a heartfelt speech, but Wade gets Logan with a sneak attack. Wade struggles to make the connection between the terminals because they're further apart than the wingspan of a single human, but they're conveniently just the right size for two (ಥㅅಥ). Of course, the choir version of Madonna's "Like A Prayer" is playing here.

This scene encapsulated everything I enjoyed about this film: that it was stupid, emotional, action-filled, filthy, and obviously about romance between men. My husband is straight and he left the theater with me in full agreement that a) this was a romantic comedy and b) they had sex in in the Honda.

8. The resolution "Althea, this is--this is Logan." It's the end of the story, they're about to part ways, and Wade will never see Logan again if he lets him walk out of his life. So he takes Logan home and makes him part of the world he'd been telling Logan he'd been trying to save all movie long.

❤ The end ❤

The Soundtrack I can't tell you how excited I was about the soundtrack. It's full of old, romantic songs. "Only You (And You Alone)" has to be on like every doo-wop or "Best of the '50s" compilation album. "Iris" (oh god this song is old now) was featured in the romantic drama City of Angels. Everyone and their dog has covered "You Belong to Me", and the most famous recent cover has to be Jason Wade's version that was featured in Shrek (2001). Chris De Burgh may not be crazy about "The Lady in Red", but I think it's fucking sweet. I grew up on musicals and LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE "You're the One That I Want" from Grease (1978).

The Honda Odyssey Fight Scene I wanted to come back to this because there is so much to it. I'm bringing up "You're the One That I Want" again.

There are intentional parallels made between this dance number in Grease and the fight scene. It's about the flirtatious push and pull between Sandy and Danny throughout after she's made her superficial transformation into the 'bad girl' at the end of the movie. It's the same in the Odyssey between Logan and Wade. They throw each other in and out of the car as they fight (and sure, go in and out of each other).

Just look at this:

Yup, completely intentional visual metaphors for fucking galore. Logan and Wade even have a post-fight bondage scene.

Also! These scenes end with the couples in moving vehicles.

In conclusion: Deadpool & Wolverine is a violent romantic comedy. Of course they fucked.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

The B-52's - Roseland, New York City, April 19, 1982

I was in NYC for a couple of days earlier this month and though time was limited, I did of course find a minute to visit a local record store — Academy Records on W. 18th St. Digging through the $5 bin, I found a nice copy of the B-52's' David Byrne-produced Mesopotamia mini-album, which I've always loved, but have never had on vinyl before. A no-brainer! As I checked out, I noticed that Mesopotamia had been recorded at Bob Blank's Blank Tape Studio, and some quick Google mapping revealed that I was just moments away from where that studio used to be on 37 W. 20th St. A legendary spot, as a footnote in Jesse Rifkin's great This Must Be The Place details:

"[T]he studio's discography includes Television's seminal punk single "Little Johnny Jewel"; disco hits by Musique, Class Action, Crown Heights Affair, and Inner Life; groundbreaking remixes by deejays like Larry Levan, Francois Kervorkian, and Tee Scott; and no-wave/mutant disco albums by the likes of James Chance, Lydia Lunch, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, and DNA. It was the favored studio of genre-bending auteur Arthur Russell, and classic albums by Talking Heads (Speaking In Tongues), the Gun Club (Miami), Joe Bataan (Mestizo), Ashford & Simpson (Solid), the B-52's (Mesopotamia), Miami Sound Machine (Eyes of Innocence) and Sun Ra (Lanquidity) were all tracked there."

All that and Madonna's first single, too! New York City is like this, of course — a neverending web of connections, a labyrinth of layers upon layers upon layers. You could spend your life walking down its streets, discovering the strange stories behind every building's facade. I could never hack it there full-time, but god bless the people who can!

Anyway — the B-52's! What a wonderful band. Here they are at Roseland (239 W. 52nd St.) right around the time that Mesopotamia came out. A killer SBD tape, featuring an expanded lineup: Dave Buck and Ralph Carney on horns. We get a bunch of the new mini-album, plus plenty of stuff from their already stuffed back catalogue. As with any B-52's tape, I'm sure it's not as good as being there in person, but it's still one heck of a party. Nip it in the bud!

(Oh and hey — this old Pitchfork column of mine has more live jams if you need to further celebrate the miracle of the B-52's.)

[libraford]

I bet immortal folks get fed up with the 'you're too young to remember-" comments because I sure the fuck am.

"You probably dont know how big Madonna was in the 80s" shes done 15 albums in my lifetime, several films, is played every hour on the 'feel good station,' is the subject of MANY drag acts, was the butt of half the jokes in the 90s, and enigmatically performed for Eurovision a few years ago. I know how big Madonna was.

"You're probably not familiar with the movie 'The Birdcage.'" I'm sorry, you think the funky little queer in the office doesnt know one of Nathan Lanes most iconic roles?

"You're too young for-" shut the fuck up I'm a grown ass adult old enough to run for president and my first action will be to make it illegal for you, specifically, to start sentences like that.

[arcane-strangeness]

I'm low-key curious how much y'all know

[silverzoomies]

hello !!! i was just wondering if you think there are any other bands peter would like besides nirvana, pink floyd, and rush ?? he gives me classic rock (& just rock in general) vibes tbh !!

anon you just opened up a can of worms !!

i once did extensive research into this. way more than anyone should for a character way past his relevance. and i'm still discovering new tunes i think he'd be into all the time !! i'll try not make this long winded (it will be). but for now...

🎶👾 peter maximoff's (potential) favorite tunes 👾🎶

we already know pink floyd, rush, and nirvana are included. they're shown through the shirts he wears !!

rush is a major one. because unlike the other two, apocalypse era peter has rush all around him !! the rush posters in his basement. the leg cast with "i luv rush." it's safe to say he's kind of a rush fanboy (and he's so real for that because rush is rad as hell).

i have a list of bands/artists i can confirm he canonically likes, as they've been referenced before. whether it be through background clues (posters, background music, etc), or because they were explicitly mentioned by people involved in making the films.

🎶 yardbirds 🎶 the doors 🎶 led zeppelin 🎶 buffalo springfield 🎶 alice cooper 🎶 jim croce 🎶 neil diamond

and while we know he listens to eurythmics (sweet dreams), i don't necessarily include them as a band. just because i personally feel this has less to do with the artist, and more about whatever was mainstream in 1983 (but you can choose to include them if you want !! after all, people mostly listened to whole albums back then).

peter definitely enjoys rock overall. but he doesn't seem averse to mainstream pop either. so we can probably assume he'll listen to anything, as long as it's catchy !!

here's some bands/artists we can assume he likes based on what we already know:

🎶 jimi hendrix 🎶 cream 🎶 the beatles 🎶 fleetwood mac 🎶 queen 🎶 david bowie 🎶 tom petty 🎶 ac/dc 🎶 bon jovi 🎶 journey 🎶 guns n roses 🎶 the eagles 🎶 joan jett & the blackhearts 🎶 deff leppard 🎶 tears for fears 🎶 michael jackson

and if there's some other classics i missed (from the 60's/70's/80's) you think he might like - please feel free to drop me an ask !! i'd love to add more to the list !!

lastly, i'm gonna drop some bands/artists i personally like to think he might listen to. mostly because it's fun to imagine so:

🎶 iggy pop 🎶 bee gees 🎶 thin lizzy 🎶 toto 🎶 a flock of seagulls 🎶 elton john 🎶 u2 🎶 redbone 🎶 madonna (i 100% believe it, you can't convince me otherwise) 🎶 pearl jam 🎶 radiohead 🎶 red hot chili peppers 🎶 green day 🎶 my chemical romance 🎶 beastie boys 🎶 smash mouth 🎶 nickelback (fight me, i dare you)

if you're looking for any specific songs, there's a really awesome playlist i listen to religiously. chai_vibes's "songs peter maximoff would unironically listen to" is so peak !! and i'll go ahead and drop my own peter maximoff playlist too, just because i worked really hard on it !! lol

happy listening !! thanks for hearin' me out !!

[thestupidhelmet]

Inspired by @einsteinsugly's music post. 😊

Gen X music was left out of hers (although there's crossover with millennial music groups). My musical taste is generally late '60s through the '90s (basically, before autotune 😂).

This list, of course, is based on my interpretation of the characters. Other people can have equality valid but differing interpretations.

Eric: The Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, Sonic Youth, Radiohead, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blues Traveler, Run DMC, LL Cool J, Aerosmith, R.E.M., Weezer, the Presidents if the United States of America, Devo.

Donna: Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, Pearl Jam, the Breeders, Alanis Morissette (Jagged Little Pill, specifically), Nirvana, Soundgarden, En Vogue, Aerosmith (early albums only; she wouldn't like the direction its music took in the late '80s and the '90s), Soundgarden, Fiona Apple, R.E.M., Blind Melon.

Hyde: Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, Nirvana, Queens of the Stone Age, the Fastbacks, Sleater-Kinney, Run DMC, LL Cool J, Metallica, Sevendust, Phish, Ice-T, Sonic Youth, Butthole Surfers.

Jackie: Mariah Carey, Madonna, Whitney Houston, Janet Jackson, Boyz II Men, Alanis Morissette, Celine Dion, Pearl Jam, En Vogue, Destiny's Child, Salt-N-Pepa (specifically Very Necessary), Aerosmith (specifically Get a Grip), Kylie Minogue, Fiona Apple, Oasis, the Wallflowers.

Fez: Blind Melon, Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Janet Jackson, Boys II Men, Snoop Dog, Biggie Smalls, Alice in Chains, Mother Love Bone, Silverchair, Hammer, Bare Naked Ladies, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, En Vogue, Blues Traveler, Missy Elliott, Stone Temple Pilots, Fiona Apple, the Eels, Devo.

Kelso: Nirvana, Green Day, Mother Love Bone, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Snoop Dog, Biggie Smalls, Vanilla Ice, Bare Naked Ladies, Nine Inch Nails (specifically the song "Closer,") Aerosmith, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, Weezer.

This list is by no means exhaustive, but I'm stopping before it gets exhausting to the reader and to me. 😅

[steviewashere]

We need to make Steve Harrington less like cardboard. I am going to ramble, please bear with me. Listen if you want.

He had weird jock habits before. Wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn, goes on a three mile jog, lifts weights in his bedroom. Eats his "normal" breakfast which is like crazy: like four eggs, six pieces of bacon, some raspberries, maybe carrots, a full glass of milk, black coffee, four pieces of toast. He's gotta keep his energy up, y'know. Goes to school with a huge fucking backpack, a gallon sized jug of water, he carries around all of his textbooks because it's like a mini workout for him. Sometimes in lulls of classes or between periods, you'll find him talking to his group of friends, but he's actively stretching/doing yoga—his friends don't even acknowledge it because it just always happens. He eats the exact same lunch everyday: rice, chicken, broccoli, a banana, and a milk from the school. (Dude would love milk. Trust.) He'll do like two more workouts in his day: once in gym, and then whatever sport practice he has (basketball in the winter, swim in the spring, maybe a bit of football/soccer and baseball right before summer hits).

His music taste isn't crazy eclectic, but it's still tasteful. He loves Queen, loves Bruce Springsteen, loves TOTO. He's into the radio hits rock (which is classic now), but his favorite song (so I've heard in relation to the show) is "Hammer To Fall" by Queen—a song that wasn't widely popular on the radio. Yeah, he also likes Elvis; can make a reference when he needs to. But he does enjoy music. And, sure, yeah—he does like pop music; maybe that does include Madonna. And—listen to me—my stepdad, a guy who loves punk and metal and shit like that, he loves Madonna and Wham and George Michael on his own; because that's what was on the radio, he even owned some of these artists albums; it's not that strange for somebody like Steve to also like these artists. Though, they may not be his immediate go-to.

He takes good care of himself; appearance wise. His hairspray is Farrah Fawcett, but it's a product he picked up most likely from his mother. He styles it on his own, right after he works out in the morning. He probably knows how to iron his clothes; considering he wears things like chinos and polos, those things need to look nice and crisp for the babes (and non-babes alike). I wouldn't be surprised if he has a signature scent—like maybe...Calvin Klein's Obsession? Considering his family's tax bracket (that house is insane), he'd probably use high-end salon level hair products. He's using name brand detergents on his clothes.

And, yeah, I'm not sure if he's still living with his parents post season 3, but I think it's safe to maybe assume so—I feel like his parents are more caring about their only son than we give them credit for; his mom seems like a caring mother, as evident with the call she shares with Karen Wheeler, it seems like she'd usually be somebody to know Steve's whereabouts, that sort of thing. His dad is probably the most strict of his parents and has high expectations that Steve fails to meet. Because the high expectations are high. And maybe Steve didn't care too much about school, maybe enough to pass and still make all the teams he wants, but not enough to get him a scholarship. And, honestly, he was probably not a top-tier athlete at Hawkins High; maybe great, but not pristine. Hence why he had to actually try to make it into college, his entry wasn't guaranteed. And when he got rejection letters, probably including rejections for scholarships, his parents most likely denied to pay for him to go through schooling. And if he really wanted to go, he'd have to take out loans or something.

He probably gets Sports Illustrated and Rolling Stone magazines in his mailbox. He smokes Marlboros, the high-end cigarette. He keeps his pantry stocked with name brand snacks; Pringles, for example. Probably tries to cater to those around him, as that's what he saw his parents do for guests. He's not a terribly selfish person at all, despite having douchebag attached to his name. He probably was very flippant about the way he cared about things, he laughed at bad jokes, and snarked his way through Hawkins High. He very rarely threatened violence—my guess, considering he's a shit fist fighter.

The way his parents' marriage is going probably affects his view on love, too. He wants something better than what his parents offer to each other. He wants a true love, fairytale sort of thing. Steve probably thinks that he'll sense some amount of clarity with whoever he gets along with. He's probably a big dreamer. Probably lonely. Wants six kids, a wide and sprawling family because then, at least, he'll have people to always take care of (to prove he is not his parents), and people who (hopefully) will always care about him. He wants a lot with whoever he falls in love with (Nancy or somebody else). But not a lot in material terms; he wants a lot of love, he wants warmth, he wants constant and sweet attention. He wants love. Not whatever bullshit his parents had; and he tries really hard to not be that bullshit, but knows he still fails anyway. He doesn't want quick things, despite constantly dating or hooking up, he wants something to last—though, nothing lasts. That's why he probably leans a lot on Robin, she has a sort of platonic love to him that he shares for her; that platonic love is probably the first time he felt like he had something to cling onto because it wasn't going to just leave or find fault. He didn't lose with Robin because they just got each other in a way he doesn't know how to replicate with anybody else.

With work, he's not sure what he wants. He wants something that keeps his interest, but nothing really has. He seems really in tune with sports, history, and literature—as there have been several attempts of his to make connections to these topics showcased on screen. (Although, admittedly, those references kind of fall short.) He doesn't enjoy work like Family Video, but he finds it easy enough that it becomes a mechanical, mundane task that he can complete without thought. I think, also, due to his interest in sports, he most likely has a vague interest in statistics or math—I think he's accidentally really good with math, but refuses to acknowledge that because he hated math in school. But he has a knack for it, no matter how hard he denies. He's probably also wicked good at working on cars. His Beemer has been through a lot and I think he doesn't trust anybody else to work on his car, so he learns to do it himself, and with the guidance of his dad.

Despite complaining about being the party's babysitter, he quite likes it. Likes being the nurturing older brother that he never had. I feel like he'd maybe get a little bit insecure about it from time to time, though. Maybe he'd feel like he's not doing enough for them to consider him that way. Maybe he'd feel like he's doing too much and forcing his way into their lives. I think, if Max's letter ever comes up again, he'd let those insecurities fall away—I truly feel like she considers him an older brother figure, a real one, a good one. I think he'd cry over it, honestly.

I think he does cry quite a bit. Just not around other people. So it seems like he's sort of constipated in his emotions. But, realistically, he doesn't allow himself that chance to crack until he's in the safety of his bedroom. Because, honestly, I feel like despite the "ugliness" to his oddball room, he finds a sort of sanctuary in it. That's where his things are. That's where his smell is. That's his safe space.

And on the topic of his room, I think he definitely helped pick out 90% of the stuff he has. His wallpaper and curtains match because he looked inside the catalog his mom presented to him one day, and he likes things to match—so that's what he picked. (His mom bit back a sigh and tried to keep her expression neutral. She thinks it was an awful pick, but whatever her baby wants.) His dad sometimes takes him on day trips, and once when he was a kid (maybe middle school age, maybe even as a freshman), they went into some interior decorating store or something and he saw the car picture and knew he had to have it, so his dad bought it. (It jumpstarted one of a few interests they share: Cars.) The bedding was his choice. The mattress and bed frame were not. Everything else in his room was his pick. The bowling pin came from a birthday party when he was a kid, he won it at the prize counter in the little arcade area of their local bowling alley.

He's friends with whoever will spare him the attention he craves. Whoever will laugh at his jokes. Whoever will agree with the stupid shit he wants to do. Whoever will chant as he shotguns another beer.

He drinks and smokes because of Tommy. Steve and his dad had a big argument or something before his dad left for some business conference. So Tommy says they should get into his dad's alcohol and find somebody to sell them cigarettes as a way to rebel. Steve thinks he's being soooo cool (he's being lame). Next thing he knows, he's got a cigarette craving and knows how to shotgun a beer a little too well.

The pocket knife he uses on the beer cans is a gift he got from his dad, probably. One that he received as a birthday present for his 15th or something. His dad probably said something stupid like, "Every man needs a good knife. Never know when you'll need one." It's got Steve's initials carved into it and everything. In hindsight, it's pretty cool and it's custom to him—it's one of the only significant and caring gifts his dad ever gave him.

He doesn't cook like amazingly, but well enough that he could survive living on his own in an apartment. He likes spaghetti bolognese. And macaroni and cheese. He knows how to make a fire meatloaf. Could probably perfect rice and chicken in a heartbeat. But he does sort of rotate the same meals over and over because he procrastinates learning new things sometimes.

He's not stupid, he just takes a little longer to process all the information he's given. And on top of that, he needs the opportunity to ask questions so he can fully understand. He only feels stupid when he's denied the chance. And denied the opportunity to explain or connect. (Connecting like you would when taking margin notes in an article—Cornell style if you know what I mean. Like maybe some of the text reminds you of something in your real life, so you understand the text better by making that connection. That's how Steve connects to things.) So, yeah, I think he's probably a little bruised whenever somebody—yes, even his close buddy Dustin—walks all over him and treats him like a child when it comes to things unknown to him; especially shit that's D&D or Upside Down related, he doesn't know what's happening, but he'd like to know.

Lastly, and then I'll stop talking in your face, I think he would have the most off-putting, morbid sense of humor after surviving the Upside Down. Like sometimes he makes too strong eye contact and makes some crazy fucked up joke at you and then you just shut down. Like it's hard for him to get laughter sometimes because he'll just say odd shit. And then eventually, when people are done being stunned around him, they're like nervous giggling. All the while thinking, "Jesus fucking Christ, Steve. What the hell." He still feels accomplished even when the laugh is barely a sound, he laughs the hardest at his own morbid jokes. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, and even Jonathan think he needs some serious therapy; clock's ticking, might be time to get on that.

But uhhh, yeah. Steve needs to be more than a stiff board of cardboard, we need to do him justice because the duffers sure as hell won't.

[localcapricosimp]

So I was ORIGINALLY going to be making a Twst HC list of the characters' music taste but I exhausted all my brainpower for that after editing a 37 minute long shitpost mini movie that was a Twst version of William Shakespeare's Hamlet and called it Hamleona (THIS WAS FOR SCHOOL) so my creative juices ran a little dry. So instead I shall be listing who I think their favorite musicians/bands would be.

Disclaimer: This is only going over the NRC students because that's all the energy I have for this shit. (Thank you, Hamleona, for sapping the life out of me you little fuck-)

Heartslabyul:

Riddle - Does he even know what music is.../j he probably really likes Florence and The Machine tbh...he just doesn't let anybody know

Ace - Weezer and AJR (I am so sorry 🙏)

Deuce - He strikes me as a Paramore listener

Cater - Madonna, Meghan Trainor, TWICE, Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift

Trey - Dolly Parton

Savanclaw:

Leona - Hozier, Conan Gray, Gorillaz, Michael Jackson, Billy Idol, Billy Joel, Noah Kahan, the Weeknd, Ciara and Elton John (when I tell you I have been ITCHING, CLAWING AT THE WALLS to say that I think Leona is a Hozier fan-)

Ruggie - Bruno Mars and the Weeknd

Jack - Sam Tinnesz and Blackbear

Octavinelle:

Azul - Gotye

Jade - Ed Sheeran (in an ironic way! i literally can't think of anybody for Jade please HELP WHO WOULD THIS MAN LISTEN TO!?!)

Floyd - FLOYD IS DEFINETLY A WEEZER FAN AND NOBODY IS TELLING ME OTHERWISE

Scarabia:

Kalim - Nicky Youre (and if you don't know who that is: Sunroof)

Jamil - Give me ideas for him I don't have any other than Pink Floyd but that doesn't feel right omg-maybe Rihanna I'm not sure tbh!!

Pomefiore:

Vil - Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Reneé Rapp, Red Velvet, Chung Ha, Sunmi, Carrie Underwood (trust me on this one!), Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter and Dua Lipa

Epel - Rascal Flatts and The Charlie Daniels Band

Rook - If Vil likes the artists, Rook likes the artists. But lowkey...why can I see him bopping to Demi Lovato...

Ignihyde:

Idia - Twenty One Pilots

Ortho - Okay hear me out...Daft Punk

Diasomnia:

Malleus - Okay so this was a tough one since I don't know how he would get access to a radio or anything that plays music becaue he's a little goofy with technology BUT HEAR ME OUT!!! I feel like he'd really get into The Temptations (if you don't know who they are they were a group from the 50s) and Tina Turner because why not!!

Silver - He seems like he'd listen to Alec Benjamin tbh!!!

Sebek - If Malleus likes the artists, Sebek likes the artists.

Lilia - ....pulls out Metallica album.

[fromtenthousandfeet]

were you a jimin fan at some point? or am i misremembering?

I am definitely a Jimin fan. I think he's a rare talent and I sincerely hope he can escape the clutches of HYBE and go to a label that will nurture his talent and support his career properly.

Lots of people like to compare Jimin to Michael Jackson, but I think it's more apt to compare him to Madonna. Yes, she's super creepy these days, but at the height of her career, she was a cultural phenomenon and a style icon. Like Jimin, she started out as a dancer, and like Jimin, she left her dance studies to make it big (she dropped out of the University of Michigan and moved to New York City). She was full of ambition, fresh ideas, and an incredible work ethic. Michael Jackson, on the other hand, had no control over the trajectory of his young life in the music industry because it was all his parents' doing. And to be honest, despite his massive fame and success, his life was mired in controversy. Young people only seem to know about MJ as The King of Pop, but I don't think they realize the way he was ruthlessly hounded by the press - especially the tabloids. And to be honest, it was hard to keep up with some of his bizarre behaviors and his concerning obsession with plastic surgery. Was he a pedophile? Was he framed for money? Who knows, but I wouldn't wish Michael Jackson's life on anybody. I'm grateful for his incredible talent and the music/dance legacy he left, but he didn't have an easy life.

Back in the early days of Amazon Prime Video - when there was absolutely nothing on there to watch - I found an unauthorized documentary about Madonna made by her former boyfriend/housemate/bandmate. He was actually incredibly complimentary of her. He explained that Madonna wanted to be in his band, so she taught herself to play the drums! She wrote her own music. And, he said, she was so driven that it quickly became clear she had outgrown the band, who were happy with just having some modest success in NY bars.

Long story short, I see so many similarities between Jimin and Madonna. They both have a background in dance that makes them incredible performers. I love to watch Jimin dance. He is such a unique talent. Do non-dancers understand this? As you watch him dance, it is impossible to differentiate the dancer from the dance. He IS the choreography. He conveys so much emotion in every movement and every facial expression.

Madonna would completely reinvent herself from one album to the next. Lucky Star Madonna was nothing like Material Girl Madonna, let alone Vogue Madonna. Jimin is the same. From Promise, to Lie, to Serendipity, to Like Crazy, to SMFpt2, to Who, you never know what to expect from Jimin, but you can be sure he's put his whole heart and effort into creating a work of art. I love that fans have no idea what to expect from him next.

I'm rooting for Jimin! I can't wait to see what he does once he's finished with his military service. And I'd love to see him soar as an unfettered solo artist, assuming that's what he wants to do.

[undead-supernova]

This Love is a Shrouded Mystery / Masterlist

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

plot: welcome to your well-anticipated album release party! you couldn't be happier...right?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: bro there's so much angst I'm sorry, mention of smoking & alcohol

wc: 5k

note: I made the album cover/tracklist and wrote all of the lyrics mentioned in this chapter and I'm super proud of it! Thank you for reading my hard work hehhehehehee

ALSO DO NOT REPOST THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ! Thank yew

He hated all the tiny things.

The way you crinkled your nose every time The Beatles came on. How you held your acoustic guitar like it was a delicate creature. The nights he would be up late practicing, only to find you passed out with your mouth slightly ajar and snoring. The mornings he spent listening to you making little sounds in your sleep, as if you were so close to saying something but didn’t know how. Your poetry and your music and your scent and your stupid smile you got whenever you looked at him and how grateful he’d been when he first noticed. 

And he really didn’t hate it at all.

He just missed you.

It was fucking torture, being away from you. He sat up, night after night, wondering what you were doing. How you felt now. If you wanted him back. If he was better off without you. If you could ever speak cordially and what that would cost.

As if he truly cared about the answer or the consequences.

Eddie just missed you.

You stared at yourself in the floor-length mirror, looking over your outfit for tonight. Trying not to suck in your stomach, trying to let yourself be the person that you wanted to be. 

A spaghetti-strapped crop top with Madonna-Whore Complex stitched in white across the breasts. Short shorts just to say Fuck You. Block-heeled boots laced up to your knees. All dolled up with a diamond necklace and thin rings. A velvet choker with a broken heart pendant in the middle.

There you were, a vision in pink. 

There you were, a shell of the person you used to be.

Maybe it would be better to play a role tonight.

But nothing was able to halt the worry, halt the anxiety that coursed through your veins. 

That last night, with your eyes glistening with grief, you’d told him you had to go into hiding. That you needed to get away from the public eye. That he couldn’t come with you. But he’d seen pictures of you since, albeit a bit blurry, running in and out of the recording studio in New York City.

There was an edge to your outfits now, with a touch more lipstick and heavier eye shadow. Changed your hair and painted your nails anything but your usual pink. Your face, the one that once held a permanent smile for the press, now hardened. Blank expressions. No smile, no feigned light in your eyes.

It was like you were wearing some kind of armor.

It was like watching someone trying to adapt to their surroundings.

Flailing, slipping.

Trying to prove to everyone else they can do it without thinking about the consequences of their actions.

Eddie could only hope you wouldn’t let yourself drown in the process.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said for the third time in the last ten minutes.

If anyone had a goddamn braincell, they could see that you weren’t good. But this had been the last few months for you. Doing whatever anyone asked. Staying busy. In and out of the studio so often that it became your second home. You honestly couldn’t count how many times you’d fallen asleep—you got more there than when you were home anyways.

How could you when the only thing you saw behind your eyes were crashing waves, the roar of the boat as it pulled you further and further away from the life you desperately wished you were still living? You wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out how to apologize. How to profess your love. How to feel any semblance of desire to say goodbye.

Your label had been shocked when you’d gotten the album done so quickly after months of producing nothing—especially calling around and getting Halsey, Lucy Dacus, and Janelle Monaé to feature. Not to mention Maisie Peters who’d actually reached out to you. It was a match made in heaven, an album stitched and woven together by the bitterest fate. 

The label gladly rolled everything into production, insisting that you do as much promotion as you could. So, you were a little money machine, doing bland Instagram reels and Tiktoks, practicing your smile in between takes. You were fine to be a puppet. You’d done everything they wanted you to, right? What’s a little bit more?

What’s better than tightening the collar on your losing dog?

            “Can you get that done for me, sweetie?”

            “It would be so nice if you could just do this one thing.”

            “You know, the fans would love it if…”

            “We’d be grateful if you just…”

“You look tired.”

You turned to Este, noticing her raised eyebrow and crossed arms. The past few minutes had been spent zoning out, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard. But it only made things worse because all you could do was remember why you were trying so hard not to think. Your friends knew better, but you hated admitting to it. 

“Just trying to wake up the excitement,” you lied.

“For yourself or for the label?” Becky asked.

You glanced over at the door before back at her. “Yes.”

“You got this, okay?” Mary encouraged, rubbing your back. “You’ll feel better once you get there. You know you will.”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least you guys are here.”

“We’d never miss it.”

A pang of grief washed through you at the reminder of someone who would most definitely miss tonight.

Eddie knew what tonight was—and he could’ve sworn it was going to kill him. Nothing hurt him more than not celebrating your album release with you. He was planning to show up and support you the best he could. Show you off. Make sure you felt as celebrated as you could be because you were so amazing.

But here he was, back in Wayne’s house for the weekend. Laying low, talking to the walls as if Wayne could hear him. Screaming at the ceiling for someone to give him a reason to make sense as to why his wounds were still bleeding. Even after five months.

Bouncing his knees on the edge of the guest bed, growing more and more anxious as the night fell. Going in and out of the back porch, cigarette after cigarette. Hoping and praying that Wayne was a ghost and was able to talk to him through the windchimes hanging by the front door. Feeling sick when they hadn’t moved. Not even once.

Fuck, Eddie should be there with you. He should be by your side.

Instead, he was ashing another cigarette and reaching for the Garfield mug hanging on the wall. Poured the last few sips of Jack Daniels left on the kitchen counter. Trudged back into the guest room.

Tried not to cry.

You were trying not to cry.

The party was spectacular, with all your favorite foods laid out and cake and your favorite music and your friends and, and, and…

It was everything you could ask for from tonight, but nothing you’d actually asked for. Clara had been sneaky, making sure that you assumed the livestream started two hours before it actually did. Brought you to this fancy restaurant, all decked out in themed balloons and pictures of you. A Congratulations banner and a big bottle of champagne for you to pop.

And you were happy, you really were. But there was just something that overwhelmed you about it all, something weighing on you. Something eating at your stomach, making it nearly impossible to eat or even talk correctly.

Scott kept you grounded the most, always giving you a word or two of encouragement. For the last five months, he’d been cautious of you. You knew it even if he never said it. Him and his wife, Rebecca, made sure to offer you a place to stay when New York started to feel like a stranger. And hiding out in Tennessee was never a bad idea, ending up getting a third home near him, just outside of Nashville.  

Tonight was no different. It was in the way he offered you food, asked if you needed some more water. If you looked even remotely uncomfortable, Scott was there to direct you somewhere else. Kept whispering that you were doing great. Kept reassuring you that your album was amazing. That you were amazing. That it was all going to be okay.

And it was a daydream, a surreal experience you were still getting used to after five years slowly rising into the public eye. Now here you were releasing your third album, knowing in your bones that this was your best work yet. 

And everyone was being so nice.

And the party was beautiful.

And you looked beautiful.

And…

And Eddie wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t anywhere these days, actually. It was like he had vanished entirely. There were no paparazzi pictures, no fan sightings. Even People Magazine had him on the front cover literally saying, “Bad Boy Eddie Munson Mysteriously Disappears from Public Eye.” You were uncertain if he’d ever be seen again. And you knew it was your fault. All of it was.

What felt the strangest was how the internet was still speculating whether or not you and Eddie broke up. It had been five months and you hadn’t told your publicist to confirm it. Didn’t even speak of it. 

The most peculiar thing was…neither had Eddie. There was nothing for anyone to do but question why the two of you hadn’t been spotted in public together even once.

Maybe one day you’d feel strong enough to bury this relationship.

Today definitely wasn’t that day.

And tonight definitely wasn’t it either.

But your album was all was about Eddie.

Everyone would know it.

And you just had to hope that one person out there would listen to it for the music and not for your real-life experiences.

But you guessed that was just how things would have to be.

So, you put on a smile and told yourself to get over it.

Smile for the cameras.

Come up with every way to deflect.

Since you’d broken up, it seemed that your label had set up a livestream for the fans to listen to the album with you at the same time. Experience it together. Get to send in questions. Get to connect. Eddie thought that was sweet, knowing how much you enjoyed talking to your fans. 

And he knew he shouldn’t, but he really considered hopping on.

Was it a little weird for him to tune into the listening party? 

Maybe.

But he wanted to hear the album, wanted to hear the songs you’d barely shown him when you were together. You were always so shy with your music you wrote for him—which was fair. He did the same thing, keeping any and all projects about you a secret. Hell, the new record set to drop next month was done in the last five, his fingers unable to do anything other than race up and down the neck. Stuffing his pick between his lips as he wrote and wrote and wrote. Tried to write himself out of whatever this black hole was that was starting to swallow him. 

And now here he was, ready to hear what you had to say.

Sighing, he grabbed his laptop.

But maybe you were better off without him.

Maybe this was all for a reason and everything just had to happen this way. It would be a nice thought, right? A nice explanation for the twisting of your gut as you set up for the livestream. Standing on a pink stage, practicing your smile one last time before the cameras got the shot juuust right. Took a step to the right to show off a poster with the album cover on it.

All you could think as they counted down from five was, I hope Eddie is watching.

When Eddie saw you, he knew he’d fucked up already.

You were radiant, always a vision in pink. Always a vision, period.

The album cover had the name “Madonna-Whore Complex” with a picture in the center of bunched up silk—pink, of course. The same color you were wearing. The same color Eddie had yearned to wrap in his arms and make breakfast for. 

And when Eddie heard your voice, his stomach flipped.

“So,” you started. “Before we even get to the tracks, I wanted to kinda explain the album title. I know people got a little weird about it, which is fair.”

Eddie could tell that you absolutely did not find that fair.

“But I think that we live in a society that is so obsessed with a woman’s place. If she’s happy with herself and comfortable with her sexuality, she must be seen as a villain or a whore. There’s no room for her to be a good person or even able to truly be in love.”

Something tugged at Eddie’s chest at the sound of you mentioning being in love. If only you’d said that to him five months ago. If only those words had left your lips, he’d have gotten on his hands and knees to make you stay.

But you hadn’t.

“It seems that you cannot be one or the other. Either you’re this harlot who runs through people like it’s nothing or you must be this chaste woman who is only allowed to be idle in the corner. I think that I’ve always been put in this position, and, with the content of this album, I feel like I’m able to both be satirical about those accusations and show the vulnerability of, um.” He watched your eyes dart away nervously before coming back. “The vulnerability of how that has affected my personal life and my personal relationships.”

“Oh, and I really love the back cover,” you said with a wide grin, shifting the subject. “Especially the track list and the font and, oh my god, the people I collaborated with? Incredible artists, right? I just feel really excited for you guys to hear it in a few minutes.”

It was then that he remembered he hadn’t looked at the track list, too anxious at the thought of you referencing anything about him on there. But of course, you did. What else would this album be about? Some other guy? He knew better than to speculate anything like that.

His heart began to race as he found it all laid out for him already, his words being spat back out at him. Something True. Could You Say the Same? Acceptance Speech. Trade You for the World. Could’ve Fooled Me.

Eddie’s stomach twisted, queasy with the exact anxiety that he’d spent the last few months trying to prevent. But he couldn’t run away from this. He was already here, watching you nearly trip over your heels in real time. Reading the titles out, each one feeling like a prison cell built just for him.

Shakily, you stated, “Okay, everyone. Let’s start the album.”

Took a deep breath.

Closed your eyes.

Eddie took a deep breath.

Closed his eyes.

And listened.

         “Okay, my pretty boy…now move!”

Eddie felt like he was losing his ability to breathe. Track after track, jumbled with lyrics all meant for him. All written for him. Words upon words of poetry that told him how much you missed him and how guilty you fucking felt and how you just went ahead and chose the world over him and, dear god, it was all too much for him.

Grief settled in his chest at every line that he called his favorite.

Okay, Now Stop!

          “Okay, now stop!

         We're dancing dirty to The Beatles and the Stones.

         Okay, now stop!

         You're dancing pretty asking me to lead you home."

The Bisexual Slut (featuring Halsey)

         “This one boy whimpers on his knees

         Twenty girls beg to finally taste me 

         If I’m so greedy, so damn needy

         Then why does their love come so easy?”

My Body, Your Choice

         “Should I base my worth off your fickle insecurities?

         Take a scalpel to my skin to justify your animosity? 

         If I’d known my body was stained with impurity

          I would’ve begged my mother to deliver me with modesty

         But I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing

         Fuck you, I’ll never change a thing.”

Something True

         “Tell me a story, one where love always dies

         Say it with finality in your glassy brown eyes

         Thread the needle to weave through our fate

         Knowing the outcome, you still beg me to stay.”

Madonna-Whore Complex

         “My halo slipped, and my limbs are sore

         But his head seems to stay in between my legs

         I’m wrapped around his fingers as they choke my neck

         I’m his sweetheart, his princess, his saccharine whore.”

The Mess (You Once Called Yours)

         “And your fingerprints stain this house

         Baby, I’m haunted by your phantom touch

         Oh, now I’m screaming and pleading, growling and howling,

         ‘Please end this agony, my love, it’s all too much.’”

Your Residential Coward

         “Guess she’ll never really let me live that down

         Throwing daggers at my portrait now that I’m gone 

         And now that I finally see my tilted crown 

         It turns out I was the jester all along.”

Could You Say the Same?

         “Simple questions come with simple answers

         That’s why I sew my mouth shut

         The moment I saw you, wild necromancer

         Devotion gnawed at my gut.”

Synonymous (featuring Lucy Dacus)

         “Sucking in my stomach in attempt to survive

         It’s like I’m fifteen again

         All crooked teeth, low self-esteem, and love-deprived

         Only coping with a wilted pen.”

My Gentleman

         “You’ll never let me look away, that is the cerulean dream

         Could be your future wife if we let our consciousness stream

         And I confess I don’t think that would be too much to hope for

         So keep talking like that, let the wine pour, pour, pour.”

Acceptance Speech (featuring Janelle Monáe)

         “In the modern age, a sacrifice is already made

         The moment that you’ve made a choice

         But, baby, the problem always chooses herself

         And suddenly she has lost her voice.”

Trade You for the World

         “I stood in sepia tones while you bled electric crimson 

         Built the motivation before I built the scene

         Led the poets astray, bathed them in patient indecision

         Now I sit in vignettes of truth, desire what was in between.”

Back to the Beginning

         “City after city, glazed in momentary dignity, 

         I chased the prophecy of my becoming

         And, dear god, if I could tuck my tail between my legs

         I’d run us right back to the beginning.”

Could’ve Fooled Me (featuring Maisie Peters)

         “And we’re dancing around each other tonight

         Elevators built like confessionals

         Desperate to blanket myself in transparency

         I wanna say, ‘Pretty boy, you’re sensational.

         We weren’t the only freaks anyhow

         But how could anyone not love you then?

         And how could they not love you now?’”

Eddie watched you dance and party. Vaguely answer the questions about what certain lyrics meant. Focused on the sound more than the overall meanings. Thanked everyone for giving you this celebration and how you were very grateful for this opportunity.

And, peculiarly, you were handed a new acoustic guitar, soft pink and sparkling. Your name written in calligraphy down the neck.

“Um, so since this is a special night,” you said while trying to move your white capo down to the third fret. “I wanted to play a special song that didn’t make the album. It just didn’t fit the rest of the album’s vibe, so I cut it.” 

You laughed and Eddie knew he was the only one who could notice it was out of nerves. You tested the strings, making sure everything was in tune. 

“But I wanted to play it for you guys if that’s okay?” Laughing again, you shook your head. “I hope everyone said yes, otherwise this would be so embarrassing.”

You leaned into the microphone, glancing up at the camera as if you were making direct eye contact with Eddie and Eddie alone.

“It’s called Questionnaire.”

The chords were simple. 

C, Em, Am.

F, G, C.

It rang out soft, sweet. Albeit a bit sad.

         He noticed the way you chewed on your lip before you started, finding your groove.

         “Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

         How the fates wrap their hands around our throats, cutting off our breath?

         Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

         How there’s no guarantee when it’s over there’ll be anything left?”

Eddie felt a sickness wash over him as he heard you sing directly to him. You were right. It was different from the rest of the album.

He tried to gauge how you were feeling, knowing damn well the only way he could was through the music itself. How the change in chords matched the change in your emotions. 

G, Am, F.

         “Oh, oh, oh.”

Am, G, F.

         “Oh, oh, oh.”

The camera pulled in closer to your face, as if they knew that Eddie was watching. Waiting. Pathetically desperate to hear what you had to say to him. 

         “Do you wonder if there’s any chance that this was all just a dream?

         But there’s no fucking way you can’t hear me calling your name.

         Do you wonder if there’s any chance we could wipe ourselves clean?

         But there’s no fucking way to explain the way I’ve been claimed.”

You repeated the Ohs, belting out the last set before you changed the sound completely. 

New chord patterns. New set of emotions. Harsh strumming, the sound growing louder and louder as frustration filled your voice.

         “Do you know the clouds darken whenever you’re away?

         Convinced myself that my storm would worsen if I’d stayed.

         God, I need you now to answer my revelation.

         Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

You repeated the line again, sounding angrier than before.

         “Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

The buildup faded away, the rough strumming turning light again as the chords of the verses returned. There was a small instrumental as the camera pulled out to show you on your pink throne, surrounded by the pink balloons and holographic streamers.

You were alone.

Eddie could just barely make out the tears trickling down your face as you began to strum each chord once.

         “Do you think about the way we lived without sanctuary?

         How we fought and you fought for me until I gave it all up?

         I think about the way I live without your sanctuary.

         How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

You sighed and sniffled softly before repeating it. 

         “How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

Despite no one being in the shot, he could hear applause coming from around the room. He could even hear Becky, Este, and Mary individually, all cheering you on.

He watched you stand, laughing off the emotions as you blotted the wetness around your eyes. “Okay, Now Stop!” started playing over the screen as people scrambled to disassemble the makeshift stage. 

It occurred to Eddie then that there…had been no chorus. No hook. It was just a list of questions for him and statements for yourself. A bout of self-loathing and the guilt that he was only now starting to grasp.

And he realized that he too was crying, trying desperately to cease them with the back of his hand. And then his sleeve. And then the tissues he scrambled around the bedroom to find. 

As soon as the livestream ended, Eddie pulled out his phone.

“You’re so brave for doing that,” Becky said, crushing you in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

A broken smile met your lips. “God, everyone’s going to talk about it.”

“Let them,” Mary said with a scoff. “Who cares?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, knowing full well who you really wanted to talk about it. To hear it. To think about it.

Your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. As you pulled it out, something resembling belief in fate rushed through you.

Eddie.

You couldn’t suppress an audible gasp, taking a step back from the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you mumbled before walking away quickly. Pressed that green button. Whispered, “Hello?”

“Oh, hey.”

His voice crawled over you in a rush of relief, an ease that had been missing for so fucking long. “Eddie, hey,” you said nervously, shocked by your own ability to say his name out loud.

“Hey, is this an okay time?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re good. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he lied, fiddling with blanket. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the album. It’s really incredible. Your best work yet.”

“Oh, thank you, Eddie. Um, you think?”

“Hm?”

“That it’s my best work?”

“Of course it is,” he answered with a breathy chuckle. “Are you kidding me? You took your individual sound and expanded on it and made it into a high-quality concept album. And the lyrics are incredible. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be.”

“Are you working on anything new?”

“Yeah, we’re actually finishing up the album now. Should be out next month if everything goes right.”

“I bet, um. I bet it’s incredible.”

Eddie’s chest tightened at your hesitation. “Each song transitions into one another. You’d think it was cool.”

“I’ll have to listen to it. If, um, if you think I should.”

Swallowing a sigh, Eddie closed his eyes and tried to focus on keeping his voice level. Keep from cracking. Keep from begging for you to come back.

“It’s only if you want to,” he replied, trying to stay neutral before moving on. “Are you doing okay? I know you get really anxious after being, like, out in the open for a while.”

“Yeah, sure I am.” He knew you were lying. “It’s just work.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay in case you weren’t,” he admitted.

“You know…” you trailed, pausing.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “You didn’t have to call if you didn’t want to…”

“Ah, come on,” he said with a chuckle. “I wanted to call you, so I called. Promise.”

Anxiety began to wash over you as you bit the bullet. 

“Is that everything you wanted to say?”

Why hasn’t your publicist confirmed the breakup?

Is this killing you like it’s killing me?

“Well, uh, I don’t know.”

Did you really mean what you said about never falling in love again?

Does that mean there’s a chance?

“What does that mean?” you asked. “I’m confused.”

Is this over?

Are we over?

“I think… I think that’s all I had to say.”

And there was the disappointment.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I hope you have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Oh, hey, one last thing.”

You couldn’t help that ugly surge of hope. “Yeah?” 

“Remember to take care of yourself. You matter more than anyone else does.”

“Oh,” you responded, deflating. “Yeah, I’ll try, Eddie. Take care.”

“Bye.”

“Bye,” you whispered before ending the call.

There’s nothing to say once the phone call ends. No one mentioned the breakup. No one mentioned how the album he called incredible was about him. About the love. The crash and burn. How your love still glowed inside you, bright enough for him to touch if he’d just stretch his fingertips a little further.

And yet, neither of you said a thing.

And neither of you admitted to what you knew was coming in his own album.

You found yourself mute as you shuffled into the back of the black SUV and got out of the city. Left your buzzing phone next to you, knowing that Eddie wouldn’t call you again. Knowing that everything must be over now.

If this was closure, it sure didn’t feel like it.

When you walked into your house, still empty and swirling with dust, you let the grating silence whisk you towards the wine cabinet. Got yourself the shiniest glass you had, poured the cheapest bottle you found. Sat on the back porch and looked out at the moon. 

If things were different, Eddie would be here right now instead of a voice in a fucking phone. His voice, a tiny shard of glass that was surely going to rip you open and never mend itself again. 

He’d sit next to you with his own glass. Comment on how nice it was to just drink the cheap stuff. Roll you a celebratory joint with dried rose petals, the way you liked it. Ask if it was okay if you spent the night out here, just looking up at the moon together.

It’d been a full year since you’d met. Five months since you last spoke. And now you were starting to fold, starting to maneuver yourselves into strangers. Even if that was the last thing Eddie wanted. Even if the mere thought of never talking again made nausea pool in his stomach.

Eddie desperately wished you were looking at the moon together.

And maybe you would feel different than you did tonight. Maybe you would’ve had a perfect night with all your accomplishments and the perfect man beside you to experience it all with.

But he wasn’t there. 

And you felt so alone.

So fucking alone.

Tears streamed down your face, a burning in your chest growing with each What If that you conjured. 

You were not better off without him. 

He knew it the moment you told him goodbye on the island. He knew it the moment he returned to California, shutting himself off from the world. He knew it the second he called you and the second he heard you say goodbye one last time.

Eddie was not better off without you.

once again thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for making beautiful dividers for me. it is an honor!