#because y'know... bob dylan

[ringosmistress]

[typicalarkhamknight]

MK11 intros

warning: sexually implied, curse words, violence mentioned.

Doing a little Mortal kombat writing heheh.. also this is just fanfiction, not canon lol. You can drop Y/N ocs suggestions if you like!

character: Y/N is another Lin Kuei of the clan. Well, a samurai Lin Kuei. Before he were born, a Lin Kuei ninja married a female samurai from japan. The mother d!ed in childbirth, so the father used her katana as his own weapon, to serve Lin Kuei and to protect his son. When he fell in battle, the young Y/N inherited the blade. Kuai Liang raised Y/N as his own son, making him a better warrior fit to be the first Lin Kuei samurai in history. Y/N also has a deep connection with the katana, he always hears his mother's voice while wielding the blade. He has cryomancer abilties.. just not the same as everyone in his clan. Without his mother's katana, he can't do cryomancing abilities. When he does, the katana inherits cryomancing abilties, can be turned into a frost weapon much like Kuai Liang's frost sword in MKX. (He and Takeda also had a friendly rivalry. Like a resemblance of Sub-Zero vs Scorpion, but kombat kids).

PART 1.

CASSIE CAGE

Cassie Cage: I know you're useless without that magical sword of yours.

Y/N: (Smirked cockily) For me, it is quite the opposite.

Cassie Cage: Well run it, B*tch.

—

Y/N: Has anyone ever tell you you're a great leader?

Cassie Cage: (Chuckles) Well am I?

Y/N: No.

—

Cassie Cage: Aren't you the guy who's heart's supposed to be.. "cold"?

Y/N: Yet my heart burns when I see you.

Cassie Cage: Oh get a load of this guy..

—

Y/N: I seek Takeda Takahashi for a rematch with him.

Cassie Cage: Aw, couldn't you just spar with me instead?

Y/N: Later, woman.

—

Cassie Cage: Say hi to your mom for me!

Y/N: She says hi, mother. (The katana glows and makes a noise of appreciation)

Cassie Cage: Aw..

—

Y/N: You're father is getting a wrong idea of us, Cassandra.

Cassie Cage: Oh. Wait— so who are we, exactly?

Y/N: That's a question you must answer.

—

Y/N: Your mother told me about bob.

Cassie Cage: Ugh. First, tell her it's Dylan. And second, why do you care?

Y/N: I can treat you better..

JOHNNY CAGE

Johnny Cage: Are you sure you and Cassie aren't.. keeping a secret from us? (Raised brow and smirked)

Y/N: You've kept many of your porn tapes secret.

Johnny Cage: Ah. (nodded) Soooo.. does that mean you have a secret with her too?

—

Y/N: Look.. whatever you think it was, it's NOT what you think, Mr Cage.

Johnny Cage: You two are like Harry and Sally, brings a tear in my eye.

Y/N: ... Fucking cold winds of hell.

—

Johnny Cage: Marry Cassie and be hollywood royalty.

Y/N: I love the offer, but I don't need becoming "royalty" to prove I am the greatest.

Johnny Cage: Just trust me bro.

—

Y/N: Making new movies, Mr. Cage?

Johnny Cage: When I'm done with the sequel.. you, my friend, are V.I.P.

Y/N: That isn't so bad..

—

Johnny Cage: Y'know you remind me of Sonya. (Chuckles) you got her grumpiness.

Y/N: Is that good or bad..?

Johnny Cage: Well friend.. you tell me.

—

Y/N: Earthrealm's mightiest champion.

Johnny Cage: Mini-Blueberry ice.

Y/N: Another disgrace.

—

Johnny Cage: Tell your mom I said hi.

Y/N: He says hi, mother. (Katana glows a bit of energy, just not the same energy with Cassie)

Johnny Cage: Ah, she loves me.

SONYA BLADE

Sonya Blade: Johnny's having theories about you.

Y/N: And all of them aren't true.

Sonya Blade: I'll find out.

—

Y/N: You're the mother I never had.

Sonya Blade: I don't mind adopting a grown man.

Y/N: I know that meant "recruiting more young blood".

—

Sonya Blade: You fight your mother in your dreams?

Y/N: It is called "training".

Sonya Blade: Sounds like she and I are the same.

—

Y/N: You know, I have never felt so intimidated by a woman before..

Sonya Blade: Maybe because you haven't met one until now.

Y/N: A deservedly low blow, Mrs Blade.

—

Sonya Blade: You have potential of being a part of Special Forces.

Y/N: I belong to the Lin Kuei, they're my family.

Sonya Blade: Special Forces will be your family when you suck it up.

—

Y/N: Let me tell you, I've never had any mutual connections with your daughter.

Sonya Blade: She spends time with you more than she did with others, including her friends!

Y/N: To be fair, I AM far more superior than them.

—

Sonya Blade: Kuai Liang didn't teach you hard enough.

Y/N: What makes you think you're better than him?

Sonya Blade: Here's your first lesson, Y/N.

[lyeekha]

frank, 5, 9, 14

(character ask game)

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Well I tried to bring something that isn't already on the Denouements playlist but if I'm to be honest it's still Ballad Of A Thin Man.... Bob Dylan version for him I think. (Ernest's is Kula Shaker. Dewey doesn't get one, this is a Frank and Ernest shared bond thing). I'm working on more playlists though and the dennys may get another go round yet

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

Yes, 100%, where do I sign. ...I know I said I couldn't with Jacques because of 'being too particular' and obviously Frank is very that, but, its different this time, it would compliment, not clash, in my mind. Like we'd have nowhere near the same domestic habits but the logistics would work and I think we would get on exceptionally well because he's a blank slate character than i'm projecting on but not without reason

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Setting aside the 20's JC Leyendecker aesthetic for the moment, which I'm sure he's very into as effort-ful fashion, but that isn't really new information. Or maybe is more of a professional thing. So for casual I'm picturing Frank as a habitual jumper wearing guy, not fashionable sweater but like the sort of genuinely good wool jumper thats lasted him 30 years or more. Sort of red coloured and all bobbled to hell. it's not his only one but thats the most comfy favourite. The shapelessness hides how incredibly angular and thin his frame is. And dark smartish jeans. Fashion of a guy who runs a dusty record store that used to be his out of control vinyl collection. Not the full hipster or bohemian but alternative on the quiet, y'know? I think given a holiday he would let his hair grow a little and not shave as much.

[torchlitinthedesert]

I hadn't heard of Lou Sullivan, trans gay author and activist. So I looked up his diaries, and op's tags are 100% accurate. You can see his whole progress as a fan, how much it meant to him - both at the time, and later with adult hindsight. Fandom as something we pour ourselves into, and use to work out/shape how we see ourselves. Plus all the idealism and obsessiveness - I love him buying Beatle-relevant clothes, and reading terrible books about the beloveds.

Diary excerpts, starting in 1964, when Sullivan was 13 (the entries aren't dated).

Didn't do anything great except saw "The Beatles" on The Ed Sullivan Show and Kathy practically had a bird. They are sorta cute but I think Ringo is swingin, George is cute, Paul is a good singer and John is icky. Too!

Did my homework and could not wait for The Beatles at 7-8 on Ed Sullivan. Went home to see them. Kathy & I & John went in the den and screamed! After their last song I started to cry, I guess because they wouldn’t be on any more. Mom got mad but Kathy joined me. I guess we feel the same about them.

Paul-Ringo-Paul-Ringo they keep bouncing around my head. They're so perfect. Model yourself on them & you'll have no worries. Paul! I love the name. Such a beautiful sound to the ear. Ringo! Such an adorable boy. So sweet and modest. So bouncy. Know that I love you and I'm not crazy. This is a love so strong and real. Oh, love me, too, anyone.

I’m reading “The True Story of The Beatles.” So sad—I even cried I felt so sorry for those poor boys. They hardly could get anything to eat. They went without food for 36 hours once. Poor darlings. Today is Sunday. The Beatles mean so much to me. I could never say I didn’t like (or even love) The Beatles. I hope God is good to them when they die. I pray for them every day. Ringo, John, George, Paul. These names do something to me. Put me in a trance.

I'm going to start saying "y'know" for a while. It's fun.

I think I’d like a husband under the zodiac sign Libra. John Lennon’s from that sign and he seems to be a very wonderful husband. I’d like to be a famous writer of romance and love. I bet I could do it! All I need is the atmosphere and mood and I could write a heart-touching story. I love to think at night, with beautiful music playing, of young lovers and love. Of how they feel, cuz I know, I felt that way about Paul and still do, a little I guess.

I'll probably never forget this day. My babies on the stage, alive, in front of me. Pauly! Pauly! Oh, I love you with all my heart, so much. At the end, when outside, kids screamed and ran. I followed, losing the others. I touched it with my hands—their car to take them to the hotel. I cried, lovingly, as I walked to our meeting place, people looked at me, but I didn’t care. My darlings were there and I had to leave them. I saw my Pauly! And George, John, Ringo.

I got a black leather “John Hat.” It’s called that cuz John Lennon wears one like it. [Here's a photo of Sullivan wearing it]

I’m not shy anymore! I don’t care if people think I’m crazy, I’m gonna be myself. And guess who helped me to this. The Beatles. The Beatles.

Grandmother bought me a $20 pair of boots. I donated $7. They’re genuine black leather and go up to my knees. They have a 1” stacked heel. A zipper down the side. A dream come true! Jane Asher has a pair. Excellent. Now I'm broke. Ha-ha!

I really don’t know what I’d have done without Paul, George, John, Ringo. I’d probably be real queer. You know, when I was around 7-11 years old, my favorite play would be “boys.” One of us, Bridget, Maryellen, or I, would say “Let’s play boys.”...

And in adulthood:

And it came to me how I’ve always had a male idol. Since I was 6 yrs old & thought I was Davy Crockett. Memories of others are gone but Cheyenne, another cowboy star I fantasized I was; David Janssen on TV as “The Fugitive;” Paul McCartney (my original boy-queen); Bob Dylan; now Lou [Reed].

Maryellen and I went to see Paul McCartney (yes! my Paulie) in concert in Berkeley. I felt very emotional during the concert—just remembering back to seeing him with the Beatles in 1964, and now again, here, 26 years later—and all that’s happened in my life in the interim. Although I haven’t followed his career in the interim, somehow I see him as the beginning, the awakening of my sexual maturity. I remember so clearly sitting at Bluemound Rd. with Paul’s picture in hand, staring and dreaming of him and thinking, “I wish I were you! I wish I was a boy like you!” I also kept thinking of Kathleen and how she would have LOVED to have been at this concert and I kind of dedicated my presence there to her. And like that first concert in 1964, I did quite a bit of crying during this show: “The Long and Winding Road,” “Let It Be”…all bring my life full-circle.

in happier book news i just started lou sullivan's diaries and idk what i was expecting but i can tell you i DIDN'T expect to be dropped straight into the deep end of the diary of, essentially, a 12 year old diehard one direction girlie (gender neutral)

[chipper9906]

The First... Chapter 1: The First... Meeting

Pairings: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

Chapter Word Count: 3,635

Status: Multi-Chapter - In Progress (1/?)

Summary:

“Look, I get it. It’s hot, and you wanna cool down, right? But as much as we like to have fun here, we have to realize the dangers, okay? You’d be surprised how easy it is to…”

Something moving on the other side of the fence catches Dylan’s eye — and attention. He turns his head towards it, seeing that—

Jesus Christ, that dude was gorgeous.

* * *

A continuation/sequel of my fic 'Truth or Dare 2.0', in the form of a collection of oneshots of 'First' moments in Ryan and Dylan's relationship, set after the events of 'The Quarry'.

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Author Notes:

Okay, okay, I know I said "set after the events of 'The Quarry' ", but I HAD to expand on the 'pool scene meeting' I mentioned in 'Truth or Dare 2.0', coz honestly it seemed like a crime not to. So... Prequel oneshot first lol.

* * *

Goddamn summer.

It's only just begun and he's already done with it. It wasn't even this hot yesterday, Dylan's sure of it. But apparently, now the sun is deciding to be a massive dick and do its best to make everyone melt on the first day of camp. It's hard enough keeping track of a bunch of over-excited kids making their arrival to camp; adding unbearable levels of heat to the mix is just a recipe for disaster.

Not even the shade of the trees overhead was doing much to cool him down as he made his way down the path, the uphill climb towards the cabins only worsening the amount of sweat pouring out of him. On the bright side, he wasn't yet leading all the kids toward their five-star accommodations. Nope, it was just him, the box of stuff Mr. H asked him to store in the radio hut, and what he's pretty sure is about seventy-five percent of his body's water leaking onto the ground as he goes.

" 'Oh hey, can you go trek out in ninety-degree heat to a cabin with no air conditioning to store some old and rusting tools while we stay in the nice cool lodge?' " Dylan readjusted his sweaty grip on the box before it could potentially slip out of his hands. At this rate, all his sweat is gonna turn the cardboard into mush… " 'Oh sure, no problem! I'm sure, uh… uh—'" Dammit, what was her name? She told him literally five minutes ago, something like… "Kaitlyn! 'I'm sure Kaitlyn will LOVE testing out her first-aid abilities when you find me passed out, face down in this stupid box…'"

Dylan peeks into the contents of the box as he walked. Every year Mr. H wanted to store more and more stuff in the radio hut… It won't be long before it becomes a storage hut with a radio, instead of a radio hut with a bunch of crap lying about. Well… not crap, he knows all that stuff has got its uses, but still. What use does the owner of a summer camp have for a chainsaw, anyway? He's fairly certain that chopping down trees wasn't one of the activities offered on the curriculum this year…

Dylan crests the top of the hill (Thank Jesus—), trying his best to pretend he wasn't out of breath despite the fact that no one was around to judge him. He crosses over the small bridge, glancing right towards the direction of the radio hut, and that's when he hears it.

Yup… That was definitely the delighted 'we're doing something we shouldn't be' laughter of children. Man, he's glad it's daytime, because that sound in the middle of the night when it's pitch black would either have him swinging his fists wildly or screaming. Perhaps even both. At the same time, most likely. Not that he encourages violence against children, of course. But… y'know. Self-preservation and all that.

The laughter was coming from right up ahead, along with the subtle sounds of splashing water. Dylan peers closer at the pool house, looking past the fencing wrapped around the pool, and... yep, suspicion confirmed. He could just make out a few heads bobbing about in the water, making some attempt to stay quiet, but failing miserably as they giggle unabashedly and splash water at one another. Dylan sighed, dropping the box down next to the bridge with a groan. Alright, time to be a responsible counselor he guessed…

Even if he thought the kids had the right idea on how to beat this heat…

…And the non-responsible part of him — which was a lot of him — wanted to jump in that pool, too…

He had hoped that stepping into the pool house would provide some cooling relief, but nope — the building was practically an oven. Dylan caught the curse on the tip of his tongue as the door softly shut behind him, reminding himself that there were kids with keen ears just on the other side. He headed straight towards the towels, grabbing a stack of them before heading back out towards the pool.

The kids still hadn't noticed him, even as he approached the fencing, too wrapped up in… being kids, having fun in the water. He knew this was a hundred percent something he'd do as a camper if it was ever this hot, but unfortunately, he's not a camper anymore. Now he's gotta do some boring adult shit and make sure Chris's summer camp doesn't go out of business day one into the season because he let a bunch of kids drown.

He ducks through the hole in the fence that Chris swore he would get patched soon, and still the kids don't notice him. He puts the towels down on the bench attached to the side of the pool house, leaning his shoulder against the brick wall, arms loosely folded and leg crossed over the other as he waits for them to become aware of his presence. "Having fun?"

As expected, the kids squeal at the sound of his voice, panicked at being caught. He chuckles at the response, which seems to put the kids at ease a little bit. "You know, if you wanna try and sneak away to do stuff you're not supposed to, you really gotta get better at the whole 'keeping an eye out thing'."

"Sorry, Mr. Dylan…" One of the kids mumbles, all of them wearing matching expressions of guilt as they paddle in place.

"Ugh, no 'Mr', just Dylan," Dylan tells them, his exaggerated scrunched-up face of disgust getting a few giggles from some of the kids. He pushes himself off the wall, leisurely strolling up to the poolside where the kids were closest. "Look, I get it. It's hot, and you wanna cool down, right? But as much as we like to have fun here, we have to realize the dangers, okay? You'd be surprised how easy it is to…"

Something moving on the other side of the fence catches Dylan's eye — and attention. He turns his head towards it, seeing that—

Jesus Christ, that dude was gorgeous.

Seriously, it was unfair how attractive this guy was. He didn't even know who the hell he was; he'd definitely have remembered seeing him in orientation. Or speaking to him. God, he wondered if his voice sounded as good as he looked… That might just kill him.

Dylan could just about see he had a pair of earphones in his ears, connected to what he didn't know since Chris had already taken away their phones this morning. Then again, if the guy wasn't at orientation, maybe he didn't get a chance to. He was walking along like the heat wasn't bothering him in the slightest, nor the heavy weight of what looked to be way too many life jackets he was balancing in his arms. The only indicator that the heat of the day was affecting him was by the sheen of sweat coating his skin, and dammit, he even made that look good! Now that was just unfair. No one should look good covered in sweat, but here was this guy walking around looking like an oiled-up Greek God or something—

Dylan's next step meets air instead of the floor, which is a little confusing, to say the least. But then it very quickly meets water after, and the reality of how much of a big fucking idiot he is sinks in at the same time his entire body sinks to the bottom of the pool.

Whelp… This was embarrassing. There's no way the kids didn't see that, given that they had been watching him the entire walk over to the poolside. Probably meant they had seen him gaping at 'Mr. Unreasonably Hot' too before his dumb-ass tumbled over into the water. He could only hope that 'Mr. Unreasonably Hot' didn't see him falling in, too. Maybe he should stay down here and drown to save himself from the coming shame. It wasn't exactly like he could figure out a way to joke out of this situation—

Wait.

Maybe there was.

You know what, scratch his previous statements. He's not an idiot.

He's a genius.

Dylan kicks off the bottom of the pool, breaching the surface with a dramatic gasp for air, making exaggerated movements as he smacks at the water around him. "Oh no! What a fool I am! And with no lifeguard to help me?! Whatever will I do!"

The kids burst into a fit of giggles at his acting, watching with rapt attention as he 'struggles' over to the side of the pool. "If only I hadn't entered the pool by myself! If only I had made sure there was someone responsible for my safety watching over me! Now I must sit with the consequences of my actions, and face almost certain death! Oh, woe is me, left to drown when there's so much life ahead of—"

The sound of footsteps pounding toward them stops Dylan mid monologue, turning himself around to see who was coming. To his surprise — and yep, there was that embarrassment — it seemed that Mr. Unreasonably Hot had indeed noticed him falling in the pool. He wasn't entirely sure how given he had earphones in. Then again, he was giving his little lesson to the kids at a fairly loud volume. Along with all that splashing…

Yeah, okay, he would have had to be pretty oblivious not to notice.

The guy was racing towards him, life jackets discarded to the ground as he leaps through the hole in the fence, getting to what he perceived as an actual emergency as quick as he possibly could. It was… kind of touching actually that this guy who has no idea who he is was outright sprinting to his aid.

"Holy—" The guy skids to a stop at the edge of the pool, stopping himself from swearing just in time, and dammit, his voice did sound as good as he looked! "I heard- You just fell in, and-" The guy stumbles over his words, slightly out of breath from the impromptu run. "Are you okay?"

Dylan smiles up at his concerned face, easily swimming in place. "All good, man. Was just teaching these little rebels here about the dangers of swimming unattended."

The guy glances over to where the kids were still huddled together, some of the concern they were feeling about being in trouble returning now there were two counselors here. "Oh, you were…" The guy sighs, running a hand across his face. "Jesus, I thought you were drowning…"

"Sorry… Didn't mean to scare you," Dylan apologizes. The guy can only shake his head, another soft sigh kicking out of him. He bends down, anchoring himself in place and holding out a hand to Dylan. Dylan grabs hold, making sure to lean most of his weight into the side of the pool as the guy pulls him up, not wanting to be the asshole that drags the person trying to help into the pool with you.

"Alright, come on—" The guy calls to the kids still in the pool, hand still clasped with Dylan's as he gets to his feet. "Aren't you guys supposed to be back in the lodge for orientation?"

'Could say the same for you' Dylan thinks.

"Yeah…" The kids don't exactly hide their feelings on the matter, looking rather miserable as they make their way to the ladder of the pool. The guy finally (by which Dylan means regrettably) drops Dylan's hand, having spotted the towels Dylan had got for them. He heads over to them, grabbing the entire stack and handing them out to the kids as they unenthusiastically skulk over to him.

"Let me guess, you guys were already friends before you got here, huh?" Dylan asks.

"Uh-huh," one of the kid's answers, voice muffled by the towel he had thrown over his entire body, pulling off a very convincing ghost costume.

"Thought so. And yeah, I know, you just wanna get to camp and have fun with your friends, right? But the fun part about camp is making friends! Okay? All those other little dudes back at the lodge right now aren't just gonna be your fellow campers, but future friends you don't even know about yet. How cool is that!"

"But… it's hot," one of the kids whines.

"Yeah… Okay, yeah, it's hot," Dylan concedes. "But—"

"There'll be plenty of time to go swimming throughout summer." The guy jumps in. "Believe me, I used to come here as a camper all the time. In fact, you'll even get to go out to the lake, too."

That seemed to do the trick, the kid's disappointed faces lighting up with excitement. "We will?!"

"Yup. It's literally my job — to take you guys out sailing."

"See? Plenty of cool and refreshing fun to be had, and with a bunch of new friends you'll get to meet once you get back to the lodge!" Dylan adds, keeping his voice as upbeat and overly-enthusiastic as possible. "Now, get in that pool house and go change before I actually drown you."

Thankfully, the kids laugh at his fake threat, shrill and over-excited voices trailing off as their feet pitter-patter over to the door of the pool house. The two of them watch as the kids go, making sure they all filed into the pool house. They both look back at each other at the same time, and — oops, Dylan didn't realize they were standing that close together. He awkwardly clears his throat, taking a little step back to get out of the poor dude's personal space. "So, uh… You're the sailing instructor?"

"Yep," Mr. Unreasonably Hot - No, Mr. Sailing Instructor - wait, he's sure he saw the guy's name in the information booklet Chris sent out.

"Yeah, uh… You're Ryan, right?" Dylan holds out a hand for a handshake, and oh God, please let him have guessed right, please—

"Correct again," Ryan says with a hint of a smile, grabbing hold of Dylan's hand once again and giving it a shake. "Should I be concerned you knew my name without me telling you…?"

"Maybe," Dylan replies with a sinister smile. "You're very easy to stalk with those earphones in."

The handshake goes still. "Uh…"

"I'm just kidding," Dylan assures him, letting go of Ryan's hand. "Your name was in the booklet thingy Mr.H gave us, remember? 'Ryan the Sailing Instructor'."

"Oh, right. I, uh… I don't know what you do other than apparently nearly drowning yourself to… teach kids a lesson?"

Dylan snorts. "Nah, that's just my side hustle, y'know? All part of the counselor experience, I guess… I'm in charge of that beauty over there—" Dylan gestures with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the radio hut.

"The… radio…?" Ryan guesses, confusion briefly written across his face before brightening with his realization. "Oh! I guess that makes you Dylan."

"Ding, ding ding!" Dylan places a hand on his chest. "Meet DJ Dylan: The sultry voice you'll be waking up to every morning."

"Right, right, the- uh… radio announcements and all that. That's your role, then?"

"Sure is. Along with a bunch of other stuff I'm sure, since two of the counselors didn't show up…"

"Yeah, that's… Not great." Ryan pauses, looking Dylan up and down — particularly at the way he was still dripping. "Uh, do you want me to like… get you a towel…?"

"Nah, it's cool," Dylan waves him off. "Literally. You have no idea how much cooler I am now. I'll just drip dry." Dylan follows this by shaking his drenched mop of hair side to side. Ryan tries to turn away to avoid the spray of droplets that come from it, but his efforts prove fruitless.

"Dude…" Ryan protests weakly, arms stretched out to the side as he looks down at his water-speckled shirt.

"Oh, shoot…" Dylan says, tone not at all apologetic. "I'd say I'm sorry, but technically you should be thanking me for cooling you off."

"I'd… rather cool off in a way that doesn't make me smell like chlorine. But… thanks?"

"You are more than welcome," Dylan says, dipping his head in a mini bow. "So, uh… How come I didn't see you in orientation?" Dylan places his hands on his hips, his ask getting a questioning eyebrow raise from Ryan. "Or… didn't meet you, at least."

"Oh, no, I was - um…" Ryan trails off, gesturing with a thumb behind his back as he glances back in the direction of the lodge. "I wasn't at orientation."

"Oh. Cool, that… answers my question. Very informative, thank you, Ryan."

Ryan huffs, glancing away to hide the subtle smile on his face. "Yeah, uh… I needed to talk to Mr. H before the kids arrived, and he sent me out to go fetch some of the life jackets he left stored in one of the cabins last year, so…"

"So… you were skipping orientation?"

"No—"

"But you weren't there?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Ryan sighs, readying himself for this explanation. "Sometimes meeting so many people at once is kind of… overwhelming? It's not that I don't want to meet you guys, but… I'd prefer to do it in my own time. Y'know… gradually."

"Hey, I get it," Dylan holds his hands up. "Honestly, I think you had the better idea. Meet your co-workers one by one… Maybe rescue one from drowning in the pool…?"

Ryan snorts, looking as surprised at his own snort as Dylan was to hear it. He coughs to cover it, hiding behind his clenched fist. "Uh, yeah… I mean, I'll definitely remember you after this."

"If anything, I am a memorable person," Dylan gloats. "And I'm sure I'll remember the guy who came to my rescue."

"Hard to forget, I'm sure," Ryan played along. His eyes slid over to the pool house, a little unsettled by the uncharacteristic silence from the kids inside. "We should probably…" Ryan flops his hand up to point towards the pool house. "Get them ready to head back to the lodge."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Doubt they know how to get back by themselves on the first day…" Dylan agrees, the two of them beginning a slow walk towards the front of the pool house. Hopefully, Ryan won't have noticed the way his voice had lost some of its brightness, perhaps a little disappointed that their conversation was coming to an end. Dylan looks over to the bridge where he had left his box, chewing thoughtfully on his lip. "Hey, uh… Any idea where I can quickly store a box full of rusty tools and a chainsaw where the kids won't get their hands on it? Probably wouldn't be too responsible of me to leave it laying about while I get the kids back."

"Uh… No. But don't worry, man, I'll… I'll get the kids back to the lodge," Ryan offers, both of them coming to a stop just outside the doors of the pool house.

Dylan's brow shoots up at the offer. "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's cool. I was headed down towards the lake anyway, so I can drop off the kids at the lodge on the way back."

Dylan smiles brightly at Ryan, his smile seemingly proving to be infectious as he gets the first real pull of a smile at Ryan's lips that he's seen — and not attempted to hide. "Sweet! Man, first coming to my rescue and now offering to take a bunch of rebellious kids off my hand?" Dylan walks back as he speaks, holding a hand over his chest for dramatic effect. "Man after my own heart, Ryan."

Ryan hums in a way of both acknowledgment and also in a way that sounded a lot like 'ha, ha, real funny', watching Dylan and his unwavering grin as he goes. Dylan quickly snatches up the box from the ground, turning back to Ryan. "I'll be seeing you around, Ryan," he says, balancing the box in one hand whilst giving Ryan a mock salute, heading back down the path in the direction of the radio hut.

"Just… Maybe not drowning next time?" Ryan calls after him as he goes.

Dylan spins around to face Ryan, teeth gleaming in the sun as he all but skips backward. "Hmm, I dunno… Maybe I'll go for a 'dangerous' swim in the lake… Have our camp's sexy sailing instructor come save me again." Dylan throws in a wink for good measure, turning back around to face where he was walking before he could get a chance to see Ryan's reaction.

The kids apparently had terrible timing and had exited the pool house just in time to hear that last comment. If Ryan said anything in response, Dylan wasn't able to hear it over the chorus of enthusiastic, "Oooooo's!" of the kids, quickly followed by a chorus of, "Mr. Dylan and Mr. Ryan, sitting in a tree! K - I - S - S—"

"Alright, alright, knock it off…" Ryan's grumble in response only gets more laughter from the kids. Dylan could just about hold in his own laughter at the response, not able to see the way Ryan's eyes followed him the whole way up to the radio hut.

It was only once the door of the hut had swung shut behind him and he had carefully put the box down that he glanced out of the window back in the direction of the pool house. He couldn't help but smile softly to himself at the sight of poor Ryan trying his best to pick the life jackets back up whilst a group of children flock around him, all vying for his attention.

Two whole months of summer camp, huh?

Maybe this would be more fun than he thought…

[gayenerd]

Interview with Billie for the Kerrang Yearbook. Sounds like this took place around 2000-2001?

Hello Billie Joe. A bit pissed at the Kerrang Awards weren't you? "I was drinking with Papa Roach the night before. Everybody went to see The Cult in Brixton. All the American bands like Papa Roach and Queens Of The Stone Age were there. I felt terrible when I got out of bed to go to the Kerrang Awards." Who ended up worse off - you or Coby Dick? "Sometimes Coby can't even hold it together when he's sober! He's super-hyper all the time. You have to say, 'Coby, turn it off for 2 minutes - I'm in my bunk!' Then he'll turn it off and you can get into a decent conversation." You experienced some difficulty in getting off the stage after accepting your Kerrang Award. "Award's shows freak me out - I'm so scared shitless of those things so I end up doing stupid things. I never theought I'd ever win an award for playing music. Watching all our videos being shown up on the screen, I just looked at Mike and Tre and said. 'Does this mean we're old now?' I can be such a self-conscious freak. I just don't know how to be cool." What's the healthiest thing you've done this year? "I like to keep myself fit. I run, I skateboard, and i'll hit the weights every other day. You reach a certain age when you've gotta start looking out for yourself. I'm staring down the barrel of 30, you know? My dad really let himself fall to @#%$ and I don't want to end up like that. Theres a preconcieved idea about musicians and punk musicians in particular that we have to self-destruct, and I can't buy into that. I like to breathe. Like like it when my heart beats - Its a really cool thing." Have you cut down on your drinking recently? "When i'm on tour I drink all day long with the guys. There's nothing else to do. But i've been at homea while. There are many, many moods to Billie Joe. There's drunk me and theres not-drunk me." What have you learned about being a father during the past year? "You learn new things every day as your kids' characters and personalities are building. Joey is 6 now, he's not a baby at all, he's a little boy. And Jacob, who's 3, is a maniac. The one rule I have is that I never expose them to television." What have you learned about Tre and Mike this past year? "Wow (long pause). I learned that Mike is a Bob Dylan fan, which was kind of suprising. I'm not the biggest fan but I definately appreciate Bob Dylan. And Tre is becoming really fluent in Spanish. His wife is Nicaraguan." What color has your hair been this year? "I shaved my head when I got off the road. Its been black. I haven't really been changing it. When the boy groups started dyeing their hair, I had to stop." Any fashion tips you'd care to pass on to Kerrang readers? "I've been wearing the same pants since High School! Never been into the Versace thing." Best punk rock song you've heard this year? "Last Nite by The Strokes. They're not really a punk band, but those guys have a really cool outlook and a good sensibility about how they present themselves. All the rap rock metal bands have lost that rock'n'roll element, and i'm just a sucker for good rock'n'roll music." What song has been stuck in your head this year, even though you hate it? "Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm. It was bad when Michael Jackson sang it, but it's even worse second time around! Y'know, I think Michael Jackson should join Slipknot. His face looks so bizarre now, its like he's wearing a mask." Are Slipknot still the scariest dudes in rock? "In about a year from now, if they're still as popular as they are now, they'll be as American as apple pie. That's sort of what happened to Marilyn Manson. When he came out he was really scary looking, like 'Jesus Christ! This guy is a maniac!' But now its, 'Oh, theres Marilyn, mowing the lawn, no big deal.' I like Manson, but it's funny how the most normal people end up being the most threatening, and the people who are scariest at first end up kinda normal. That's the dissapointing thing about shock value. Neil Young is more threatening than Slipknot just because he's smarter and has more of an opinion." How much fun did you have on tour in 2001? "It's really exciting at first because you're in different places every day, but after a while i'd rather be home. I get into really long conversations with my wife, I talk to my kids a lot, I'll write little notes and draw pictures for them and fax them to the house. Our sets are getting longer, sometimes we'll play up to three hours, and its because there is no rock'n'roll lifestyle for me other than that. I'm a devoted husband and a devoted father, and so all that decadent bullshit is not my thing. You start to wonder, 'Is this the life for me?' But then I get home and I dont know what the @#%$ to do with myself because i'm not playing music. People have looked at us and gone, 'Obviously these guys have no place to go after the gig because they're still on stage!'" Where were you on September 11? "I was on West Coast time, so it was really early in the morning for me. I saw the towers fall, and it felt like the world was gonna end. What amazes me is that Tony Blair is almost heading the coalition by himself! Does he realise what he's getting his country into? This is @#%$ serious! There's been a lot of shocking words used: the 'crusade against terrorism'. The las thing you say to someone from the Middle East is the word 'crusade'." After September 11, do you share America's renewed sense of patriotism? "No way. I can't really see myself as a patriot. I don't see what happened in New York as an act of war, it's an act of terrorism. Every country has had to deal with terrorism in some form, and this is the first time America has ever seen it and they dont know what to do, so everyone is clinging to these war slogans. All the flags is people's cars and homes - it just seems kind of gross to me." Has American learnt from the tragedy? "I hope some good stuff comes out of this. People have become so self-absorbed and dedicated to their careers. I'm not a person to wave a flag for family values or anything like that, but there comes a time when your relationships and your family is the most important thing, not whether you're making $100,000 every year. Thats what I hope comes out of it - that people realise the important things in life." Six Of The Best Best Friend: " Valium. Lots of plane flights, man. Valium only lasts four hours, so if you're on an 11 hour flight take two and a half." Best advice: "Put your head between your knees if you think you are gonna pass out." Best Ass: "Tre Cool. Not only because he has one, but because he is one." Personal Best: The pinnacle moment for me this year, musically, was playing Reading. It was a great show. There's so many bands nowadays who can't play live, but to actually do it and have people singing along and getting something sentimental out of it at the same time, thats rare, and we achieved that at Reading." Best Night Out: "The furst night I went out after september 11. I really went for it. American has these feelings of its days being numbered. It's like a country that has just got cancer, but the cancer's in remission. A lot of people are doing all the things they've always talked about doing. I hadn't partied really hard in a while, so that's what I did. I went to a couple of bars with Mike and Tre and our producer. We got loud and had a good time." Best Buy: " My cellphone. The ring tone is just a goofy tune. And it vibrates well in my pocket."

[spectral-ask-memes]

Music Asks:

5, 9, 11, 12, 13, 15, 23, 29, & 30

thanksss!! putting it under the cut because apparently i cannot be concise and only pick a singular song. there is so much music i like

5:A song that needs to be played LOUD

is all of them an option?? all of them. there are no words to explain how ridiculously happy i get when the music teachers let us blast music over their giant speakers (and sometimes play along with the songs!!)

9:A song that makes you happy

don't bring me down + don't stop me now + yer so bad + bob dylan's 115th dream + tenth avenue freeze-out +

11:A song that you never get tired of

soul of my suit, king of the mountain cometh, turn to stone, it's all over now baby blue, and idiot wind!!

12:A song from your preteen years

i'm going slightly mad + the show must go on!! but also the draw + good grief + things we lost in the fire

13:One of your favorite 80’s songs

it was very hard to pick,,, but i am emotionally attached to from the end of the world + the lights go down

15:A song that is a cover by another artist

johnny b. goode + roll over beethoven,,, chuck berry knew what he was doing and they're STILL bangers. so much so that So Many Musicians have covered them. i very much like this

23:A song that you think everybody should listen to

ok ok so on one hand,, i believe that everyone has different tastes + things like this are very much up to the people that are listening to it, y'know?

but also i very consistently try to make the people around me listen to idiot wind, adam raised a cain, all dead all dead, end of the line, goodbye blue sky, and doing alright!

29:A song that you remember from your childhood

stayin alive, lucy in the sky with diamonds, rocketman, under pressure,,, good times

30:A song that reminds you of yourself

ramblings of a lunatic + streets of philadelphia maybe?? streets of philadelphia at least reminded me of why i got into music y'know?

[knives-out20]

Late Night - Malcolm Whitly x Harlan Engelmann (OC)  - Prodigal Son - Part 2 (FINALE)

Fandom: Prodigal Son (2019-)

Pairing: Malcolm Whitly/Bright x Harlan Engelmann (OC)

Word Count: 1450

Warnings: Mega Soft, Mentions Of Nazis And Bullying, 

Notes:  Hey Guys! This Is The Second Part- And Final Part- Of This Lil’ Series Of My OC, Harlan, And Malcolm. If You Guys Like Harlan And Wanna See More Of Him, Or Him And Malcolm, Don’t Hesitate To Say So! Anyways, Enjoy!

Harlan leaned against the counter of his bar, after serving someone a daiquiri. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and hanging his head. Malcolm said he'd come visit the bar today. Well, Harlan knows Malcolm said maybe, but still, he had been eagerly waiting Malcolm's arrival all day. Maybe Malcolm will show up at his house tonight, instead. God, if Malcolm wasn't so busy, Harlan could've loved him more.  "Ey, Harley!". Harlan cracked a smile, opening his eyes and turning to the right."Yea, Declan?". Declan's a regular at the bar, and he always orders the same kind of drinks."Same as usual?". "No," Declan nodded to a pretty girl beside him."Give us a round, will you? Please?". "Got it-" Harlan stood up, then feeling a pat on his shoulder. He turned to see his co-worker, Leo."Hey, Leo". "I got this, Harlan. You continue...Looking sad, alright? Hey, we still on for D'n'D on Saturday?" Leo asked, eyebrows raising."I'll get Deccy his shots". Harlan nodded, smiling warmly."Thank you, Leo. And, yea. We're still on for D'n'D. I'm just...Waiting for someone who said he'd show" maybe said he'd show, Harlan, maybe. Harlan rubbed his eyes, then scratching his jaw in thought."Well, maybe. Just- go get, uh, Declan's drinks, I guess. Thanks, again. I love you" he giggled. “I love you, too” Leo ruffled Harlan's hair, nodding and turning to set up a round of shots for Declan and his new girl.  Harlan turned away, glancing up at the clock. He chimes out soon. Harlan checked his phone; nothing from anybody, except for a notification that both Harlan's brother and Leo liked a tweet of his about cinnamon buns.  "Are you allowed to be on the phone while on the job?". Harlan looked up, immediately tucking his phone away and into his pocket."Malcolm" Harlan breathed out a smile, leaning against the counter."Says the one who takes calls during on-sight profiling. And, uh, I- I didn't think you'd actually come. You said maybe, after all, so I- I didn't- I didn’t really expect you. Well, I did, but slowly started to not expect you". Malcolm scoffed."I'm hurt, Harlan, truly". Malcolm took a seat at one of the bar stools, placing his interlocked hands on the counter. He raised his eyebrows, looking up and around when he noticed the song change."You guys play Bob Dylan?". "Everyone loves Bob Dylan" Harlan just wants Malcolm to love him like that."I'm obsessed". "Oh, no you're not. You live and breath Gord Downie, Bob Dylan's a sideline for you" Malcolm chuckled, looking confused at the shot glass that appeared in front of him."I...haven't even ordered anything yet" he reminded. "Your best friend works at a bar. This one's on the house, as will any other drink once I get JT's first name. So-?" Harlan raised his eyebrows hopefully, leaning in like Malcolm was either about to kiss him, or tell him the biggest secret of his life."Got any news?". "Sadly, no" Malcolm shook his head, daintily holding the glass, and gently swirling it."Not yet, at least. I'll get it for you, free drinks or not" Malcolm's smile grew when he heard Harlan utter "I'm honored", both hands over his heart."He knows my real name isn't Malcolm Bright, the least he could do is tell me what the 'J' stands for, just the 'J'" he groaned, downing the drink quickly. "I'm sure you'll get it one day, Mal" Harlan encouraged. He tilted Malcolm's chin up to look at him, gaze going soft when it locked onto his best friends own. Harlan looked to the left, then the right, and leaned in, kissing Malcolm. He tasted the scotch on Malcolm's lips, and pulled him closer, to deepen the kiss."Glad you came" Harlan mumbled against Malcolm's lips, who muttered "I'll come again later, at your place". He chuckled, kissing Malcolm's cheek. Harlan pulled away, slowly licking his lips."Scotch is still your favourite, right?". "Hasn't been anything else a day in my life" Malcolm shrugged."I could deal with whiskey every once in a while, though. If you wanna spice things up" he winked, tracing shapes onto the counter using his finger."Also, I have a question about us, growing up". Harlan arched a brow, pulling away and crossing his arms protectively."Yea-?" He asked. "Did you...Did you really expect no one to call you a Nazi, back then? Being German was one thing, but...your grandfather, was...y'know" Malcolm gestured his hand by rolling his wrist, presenting nothing in particular."With or without that grandfather, the narrow-minded kids at our school would've called you one either way. Why did you expect them not to?". "Ah," Harlan nodded, hanging his head after. He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip."Same reason you didn't expect people to call you a freak, and a monster because of your dad. My grandfather fucked up any chances I had with that cute Jewish kid in fifth grade" Harlan answered. Malcolm looked nostalgic."Stanley". "That's the bitch, with his cute, curly hair" Harlan nodded."Anyways- Yours is more direct in mine, yours was your own father. Mine was my father's father, less direct, but, uh, still biological. Funny, I regret not interviewing my grandfather about the Holocaust ‘n’ being a Nazi soldier and such, before he died, when we hit high school. You have every opportunity to interview your father...I think" he explained."It wasn't funny, being called a Nazi as a kid. And it definitely wasn't funny when that damned insignia was drawn onto my desks, my backpack, notebooks, anything that black marker ink could easily stick onto" Harlan rolled his eyes, following up what he said with calming breaths and tapping the fingers on his right hand with his thumb. Malcolm caught the self-soothing action, and cleared his throat."Just curious, y'know?". "When are you not, Malc? When are you not?" Harlan asked rhetorically. Malcolm reached his hand up slowly, cupping Harlan's cheek gently. He smiled when Harlan leaned into the touch, eyes closing."No wonder we're best friends. We both had a paternal figure that fucked up our childhoods". "The last thing I need is you comparing your own serial killer of a father to my- at the time- bed-ridden Nazi grandpa who I only had to visit very few times in my life" Harlan pointed a finger at Malcolm blindly, taking another deep breath."I appreciate the thought, though, but which one of us got diagnosed with night terrors and two mental disorders? And which one just of us got stared at during a majority of the time our class spent reading The Boy In The Striped Pajamas?" He asked, his fingertip-tapping becoming quicker."I even remember the dumbass nickname- ‘Harlanazi’" Harlan remembered, eyebrows jumping when he felt a pair of lips on his, immediately recognizing them as Malcolm's. Harlan pulled away, and opened his eyes. He looked into Malcolm's, a wave of safety crashing over him. Harlan gulped, a sad smile on his face when he reconnected their lips.  Malcolm pulled Harlan closer by his coat, pushing his empty shot glass out of their way. He even stood up, out of the stool, to get closer to Harlan, the counter being the only thing physically diving them. Malcolm pulled away soon after, both hands now flat on the counter as Harlan had that same, something-struck look in his eyes.  It was love, but Malcolm doesn't exactly know that yet. It's most likely, but Malcolm knows Harlan, and Malcolm also isn't the most willing to believe it. Only one thing was left for him to do, to truly find out. Malcolm pat his cheek."How's about we go out this Sunday? If you're free?" He asked, a hopeful look on his face. Harlan opened his mouth, but no words followed."I- excuse me?". He couldn't believe Malcolm was actually asking him this."Go out in what sense, exactly?" Harlan asked, knowing what sense he wanted it to be, but also what sense it most likely wouldn't be. "Go out in a...Non-platonic sense" Malcolm interlocked his hand with Harlan's."What'd'ya say?" He asked, smiling adorably."We can finally be open, too, if you're comfortable with that". Harlan felt a blush creep onto his cheeks."Uh, I- well...yea. Yes, that'd be great" he nodded eagerly, standing up straight. Malcolm smiled proudly, the excitement in Harlan’s eyes confirming his theory on his feelings for the prodigal son. Malcolm leaned in, kissing Harlan passionately. Harlan kissed back just as lovingly, a wide smile on his face. He knows this relationship will be rocky, especially with Malcolm's line of work, his night terrors, and state of mind. But it's Malcolm Whitly- Bright, here. And he's Harlan Engelmann, he knows how to handle Malcolm just as well, if not more than Malcolm's family does. This is all he's ever wanted. 

They're all the other one is ever gonna need.

[hide-your-bugs-away]

hi omg can u just rant about bonovan i need my bob and don fix!!

!!!! BONOVAN MOMENT AAAA OF COURSE!! I love those two softies with my entire heart,, who gave them the right to just chill and listen to one another's music with so much tenderness and adoration??

(Ramblings below:) 😔

Okay, first of all, I'm still on a mission to collect little tidbits of Bob/Don info from vintage magazines when I'm able to... I'm pretty satisfied with the information I've gathered for them so far, but every now and then, I find something really cool (and soft) that I really want to get for myself. This time, it's an issue of Record Mirror from May of 1965; May 15th, to be exact (don't think Bob had even left London yet)! In this issue, Don reviews all of the tracks from "Bringing It All Back Home" and a a a,, it's really sweet. Mentions the songs that Bob played for him,, and also says that it's impossible for him to put into words how he thinks about him. 🥺🥺 Bob's like: marry me now please

Here's a link to the article:

Now, why would I potentially want to spend $70 on an article that I can just read online?? Agh,, gotta hold the softies,, y'know?? 😢😢

Besides that, have to give a shout-out to Dr. Bonovan (as @/daisychain-unchained and I affectionately call him,, his real name is William Rothman) - author of the book Documentary Film Classics. It's all about cinéma vérité films, a huge section devoted to Dont Look Back, and it's honestly one of the best, most thorough interpretations of the movie I've ever read (besides our own gay version, of course 👀). I'm biased... but I really appreciate the affectionate way in which he interprets Bob and Don's relationship, despite using only the context of the movie to draw from. Some of his phrasing, such as "Dylan nods, laughing almost shyly, as if appreciating Donovan's appreciation of him," with regards to their song-exchange, or considering Bob's reference to Donovan in his performance of "Talking World War III Blues" as "an affectionate public acknowledgement", or the fact that he insinuates that Bob blowing up like he did during the drunk-glass situation was for Donovan's benefit - to impress him. Not even I thought of reading the situation like that before... beautiful. 👀 Hannah said it's written like a fanfiction, and it really is! Shout-out to this film scholar for combating dumb YouTube comments worldwide who think they hated each other and tells the correct, affectionate narrative. 😔🙏

Alright, realistic stuff out of the way, let's get s o f t. Like how l'd like to think they hung out during Bob's '66 tour of England, and that Don noticed how exhausted and tired he was from the crazy schedule and the constant berating of his choice to go electric (a choice Don whole-heartedly supports). So he takes Bob away on a drive when he's got some downtime. To the seaside cliffs of St. Ives, one of Don's favorite places to relax and let himself just sink into nature - he wants to share it with Bob. And let him know that he's supported and loved and always has someone to turn to if he needs it. The get stoned on the cliffs together, spend the night outside, arms around one another, listening to the waves and each other's heartbeats. And it's one of the most rejuvenating experiences Bob has had in his entire life.

!! Also, here are a couple doodles of them for the soul. 😔🙏 I need to post my art of them more,, they're really relaxing and fun for me to draw!! Fluffy-haired softies are a guilty pleasure of mine. 🥺

ONE MORE THING,, it's thanks to Bob that Don met the Beatles which is 👀👀 a whole thing I won't get into now because,, I'm planning a comic for it,, BUT AAA!! Important!! Important moment in music history, and important because it proves that Bob really cares about him, enough to coordinate things and allow Donovan to meet a band he has been eager to meet for a while! 🥺

[vulturesthedirtiestkind]

Hi!

Hope you're doing good, sorry it's been a while. I hadn't heard any of the T.rex songs you mentioned besides Metal Guru so I'm listening to them right now and they're all so good. I love how T.rex uses 1950s rock n roll tropes in unique ways.

That's cute the dog got a sweater, I'm getting my dog one of those treat balls. They sell little costumes for lizards at PetSmart now. I heard you got your snake a sweater, did they immediately slither out of it?

ELO is such a fun band, I think it's easy to listen to all their music because almost every album is good. Have you seen the Wall film by Pink Floyd? I've been meaning to watch it sometimes.

Speaking of They Might Be Giants, I was just listening to I Shall Be Free by Bob Dylan and one of the lyrics is "greasy kids stuff", which caught me by surprise because TMBG has a whole song called Greasy Kid's Stuff. Very subtle Dylan reference. Have you ever heard TMBG cover Mr. Tambourine Man?

Hope you have a fun holiday!

-🦗

hello!! you're good, don't worry about it--it's a busy time of year and things happen! i've been alright--i've gotten to talk to my partner a lot so i'm very d:') how are you!!

YESS t. rex is so good!! i say this about quite a few but they're one of my favourites--and you're right, they're just fantastic.

OHH YES treat balls are good!!!! and oddly enough, the snake seems to like his sweater! he likes to hang out in it when i hold him d:')

elo is one of those bands i just... never get bored of, there's always something DIFFERENT and everything is just So Good, y'know? and yes! i actually own a copy of it, my father gave it to me last time i saw him--i watch it fairly often! it's definitely a film, though? i'm in love with the art and the way they switch between art and real life, and the music itself is FANTASTIC--overall i enjoy watching it!

OOH I HAVEN'T BUT NOW I NEED TO i'm so excited!! thank you d:')

i hope you do too!!

[lady-strange-i-dont-want-youu]

Thank you so much for the Platinum Blonde recs!! I listened to a little bit of both albums last night and I'm very impressed! My favorite song that I've heard so far is Crying Over You, that one is so good I had to listen to it a couple more times today. You're so right when you say music is made with creativity and drive, it seems like quite a few artists aren't 100% educated musically but they don't really need that - all they need is that drive! I wasn't expecting you to be so excited about the harmonica idk why 😂 I just smiled so much reading that. I'm not the best but I can play "mary jane's last dance" and "you don't know how it feels" (both tom petty songs) and I learned just a little bit of bob dylan's "like a rolling stone" and the beatles' "I should have known better" but that's about it lol. I can play harmonica just well enough that it doesn't sound like a dying cat y'know 😂 I DO have a ton of band merch actually. I have 4 posters - two of them are def leppard (one from 1988 and one from 1980), one is slash, and one is metallica. I also have two framed photographs now, one is stevie nicks and the other is tom petty. I have way too many band shirts to count - a few are guns n roses, alter bridge, bon jovi, dokken, pink floyd, two are def leppard, like 5 of them are the beatles, one is tom petty and the heartbreakers, I could go on but those are my very favorites. I also have a guns n roses lighter I lifted off my mom haha! It doesn't work anymore but I keep it because it looks cool. More recently I've gotten a pack of replicated signed photographs of the beatles that are scattered around my room and my little brother got me tom petty buttons from the wildflowers album for my birthday which was so sweet. I keep those on my dresser so I can see them everyday. I also actively collect cds and tapes. Most of the tapes I have come from my mom honestly 😂 and I've been buying myself cds for a few years now. And I know I keep mentioning him but my current goal is to collect every single tom petty cd there is - so far I have six of them and I'm pretty proud of that. Now a question for you: Have you gone to any concerts and are there any bands you'd really want to see live? -❄

Ouuuu! I'm glad you liked! Crying over you is A BANGER (definitely throw that song in the same playlist as Bon Jovi you gave love a bad name) And with the musical education it sometimes helps but I think (correct me if im wrong) music education is for those symphony orchestras, the drive is you practice practice practice and work hard for what your imagination comes up so it can be ✨reality✨ i went to my friends place since HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN PLAY DRUMS and me and him did a play through of the song im working on for my single AND MAN I WAS SO HAPPY like he's in a band himself and gives me tips but thankfully i wasnt performing because i sometimes would mess up or forget i had my fingers on G chord😂 but i find the harmonica super cool though and over time you'll be better than before! It literally amazes me like you're the first person i know now who plays harmonica! HOLY THATS ALOT OF MERCH i wanna get one led zepplin, ratt, europe and 2 def leppard posters but i'm just waiting till i move out that way i wont have to deal with taking them down because my tapestries are enough already😂😅 I sadly never went to a concert (i mean i guess that aint true i went to my friends bands gig and my ex is part of the band oops) but FAMOUS WISE i wish to see def leppard but im too poor to go to the states to see them😔 europe i want to go and see too.. mötley crüe would prob be wild😂 how about you? Did you see any of your fav bands concerts or who do you wish to see live?!

[aleasesrestaurant]

Album reviews 5/20/18

Bob Dylan- Fallen Angels: Another musician who just won't quit. This is an oddly soft album, slow and contemplative, not at all what I think about when it comes to Dylan. Oh, duh, it's probably because these are all covers of classic pop songs. Wikipedia says all but one was originally performed by Sinatra, and that's exactly what I was thinking of. Honestly, not too bad for what it is. 6/10

Eric Clapton- I Still Do: Yaknow, Clapton's done some really great work in the past, he's one of the best guitarists alive, but I just don't get the blues. I don't think I ever will. And for that reason, I found this unbearable. 4/10

Iron Savior- Titancraft: I once wrote a story about a character called Iron Savior. Just sayin'. This is some cool heavy metal, just a romp through fantasy, the Wild West, you name it, everything that makes metal fun. Fans of Blind Guardian will definitely want to check these guys out. 7.5/10

Kent- Da Som Nu for Alltid: A Swedish indie rock band I've had a lot of enjoyment with. This is a bit poppier in places than their usual fare, but really it's just another good Kent album. Which is saying something since, y'know, I have no idea what they're saying. 7.5/10

Yuna- Chapters: An elfin-voiced R&B singer from Malaysia, capable of vocal strength without needing bombast. I mean, she holds her own against Usher in the lead single. This is honestly a very pleasant record, and I will definitely be looking for more by her in the future. 6.5/10

[belladonnaandulriched]

the artist | chapter thirteen

I didn't dare tell Chris about what went down in that room afterwards. All I had was the painting Joey wanted me to make, and he had asked me to make it for him. My fingers caressed over his bare chest and down onto the one button left undone. His skin felt smooth like velvet: soft sun kissed velvet complete with a little bit of that coarse dark Italian hair. I imagined a quintet of red feathers blooming out of the chest of the painting. I imagined doing the same picture but under my digital drawing pad. A few times I flashed a glimpse over at him and the genuinely pleased expression on his handsome dark face. At one point, he leaned closer to me and lingered before the easel to see it for himself. He loomed closer to me to show me more of his chest and his fine collar bones, to which I grinned at him. "What'chu doin', slinky boy," I teased him as I cleaned off the brush with the towel. "Wantin' to drink ya down," he replied with a mischievous smile on his face. "You're a bad boy," I said to him; I moved my hand back from his chest to move a lock of hair behind my ear. The corner of his mouth lifted up even more towards the side and he nudged a curl of inky black hair back from the side of his neck. "I've been a real bad boy, y'know," he retorted in a low voice. "I want you to take a look at this," I gestured to the painting before me, "and I want you to tell me—" His skin smelled so soft and sweet, like he had just stepped out of the shower. "—I want you to tell me what you think of it." He turned his head just a bit, just enough for a good look at the painting of him I had made. I made sure his curls were rich and dark as they draped over his shoulders, and I made sure his skin was as gentle and delicate as it felt underneath my fingers. "Nice touch with the feathers," he remarked. He turned his head back to me to better show me the warm bloom in his face. "An' I like how dark you made it, too. Very metal. Very temptin', too." "I'm almost inclined to stay the night here," I confessed to him. "You know, the pandemic coming back and whatnot." "So we could sing to Bob Dylan and make a bunch of paintings?" he teased me. "Would you sing to Mr. Dylan?" I challenged him. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and gazed right into my eyes. Those dark brown irises felt like molten dark chocolate, as sinful and decadent as anything, and yet he swallowed me whole. He cleared his throat. "Early one mornin' the sun was shinin'," he sang to me in that soulful voice of his, "I was layin' in bed, wondrin' if she'd changed at all... If her hair was still black..." He gazed up at the crown of my head. "Her folks they said our lives together, sure was gonna be rough. They never did like Mama's homemade dress and Papa's bank book wasn't big enough." I felt my heart swell inside of my chest. "And I was standin' on the side of the road," he raised his voice a bit and in turn it filled out to this real rich sound; I glanced down to find his slim stomach filling out underneath his shirt from his controlled breathing. "—rain fallin' on my shoes, heading out for the east coast. Lord knows I've paid some dues—gettin' through—" He closed his eyes. "Tangled up in blue," we sang in unison. He opened his eyes and bowed his head out of modesty, to which I giggled at him. "The blues are a good fit for you," I told him. "I can always seem to find that within me," he confessed. "That sense o' melancholy, y'know?" "Definitely—I can see us going places with it, that's for sure. You guys play while I paint and draw, and I'll give you guys some of the dues I make." "Would you really?" He raised his dark eyebrows at that suggestion. "Really," I said. I lowered my hand to the one resting on his knee. "I know what it's like to be anxious and not know where anything is going. I know what it's like to be hungry and helpless. It only makes sense to me to pay my dues back to you guys. Get this place going again—I don't know what to do about getting you back home to upstate New York, but to get this place moving and bustling again as an art gallery is a start." "An' we can have our shares, too." "Right! I can do my thing and so can you guys. It works on paper—we just have to get the actual thing moving now." I peered about the tray of the easel for something to write with. "Do you have a pen on you?" I asked him. "Do I have a pen on me?" He raised his eyebrows at me. I giggled at him when I realized what he was getting at. "You know... somethin' to write with." "Oh, that! Nah, I'm afraid I don't." "I'll be right back," I vowed to him. I climbed to my feet, and rounded him, and I made my way towards the door. I got probably three feet when I heard Chris' voice there at the end. "Holly! There you are!" He had stripped his mask off and kept it underneath his chin. I raised my eyebrows at him. "Here I am. What's up?" "Holly, I will give you—" Chris paused with his teeth pressed upon his bottom lip. I could feel the pensiveness. "I will give you twenty dollars to kiss Lars for me," he finished. I squinted my eyes at him. "Double or nothing, and I'll throw in a bit of tongue." Chris continued to nibble on his bottom lip. "Besides, where did all of this come from all of a sudden?" I asked him. He peered behind him to the big front room, where Will and Lars had congregated in to converse about something. Chris then returned to me and reached into his pocket for something. "I got this for you," he told me in a low voice, "well, Will helped me get it, but he told me to say it was from me because... well. You know." "No, I don't," I confessed to him. He cleared his throat. "Anyways, here." In the dim light, I made out the sight of a pick-shaped pendant dangling at the end of the red and black chain. It was about the size of the pad of my thumb and a bright, almost neon reddish orange color. Splatters of blue and green decorated the front and back of it: I held out my hand so I could take a better look at it. On the front face of the pendant, it read "official artist" in black engraved lettering. I gasped at the sight of it. "Thank you," I whispered to him, to which he winked at me and showed me a warm little smile. "We do what we can in a time like this," he assured me, "especially when it comes to the girl I like." I curled my fingers around the pendant and held it to my chest, right above my heart. I felt my face grow warm. I then put the chain around my neck, right underneath my hair, and then I linked it up and let the pendant rest atop the triangular shape of my shirt. "Do you have a pen or something to write with?" I asked him. "A pen? I think so. Let me look..." He turned behind him to the end of the hallway, and he called for Will and Lars. Joey cleared his throat behind me; I turned around right as he slunk past me with his fingers holding the collar of his shirt together. He showed me that shy little smile, complete with that sweet warm blush across his face. During the pandemic, we had to stand six feet apart, even indoors. But it was quite the relief and the interesting change of pace to touch him and feel him while I painted him. I showed him a wink as he stepped around the corner. "Holly—Holly—look over this way." I turned back to Chris as he handed me a little dark blue ballpoint pen for me. "Oh, thank you!" I declared, and I doubled back to the room to sign the painting. I rested a hand on the seat of the stool to support my weight. For some reason, I pictured Chris right behind me with his hands resting on my hips. It was only another month before we could do anything off the rails. I scribbled the word "Hollywood" onto the bottom of the canvas. I examined the painting while still keeping my hands on the top of the stool. Joey was so sensual and lush, very much a gorgeous boy and the perfect model for me. I knew Chris proved to be quite the model for me, but Joey was in a whole other ballpark altogether. I let my eyes scan the bottom of the painting, where I had painted the bottom buttons as undone so his belly was kind of exposed. I nibbled my bottom lip at the thought of Chris posing nude for me. I thought about him doing that for me on my birthday. I made a mental note to suggest that to him at some point. I stood back upright and tucked the pen behind my ear. I reached for the top of the painting to stretch it out on the table behind me. I turned my back to the door, so I was caught off guard by the sound of a gentle knock on the door. I whirled back around to find Dave making his way into the room here: he had removed his mask and traded it for a ball cap atop his head. "All the plants are at their highest, Dave," said Stone from the hallway. "Okay, good!" Dave declared. "What's up?" I asked him. "We made it so the next order is going to the next one in line from Joey," he explained to me in a low voice. "What do you mean?" I asked him. "We're gonna give him some fake ones and give the next one on the waiting list following him the real ones. It'll be a swap of sorts." "Who's next on the list?" I knitted my eyebrows at him. He rubbed the roundest part of his chin in repose. "I forgot to write it down," he confessed to me in a low voice. "But I can assure you that darling Joey will haveta pick something else to find his way to your heart." I stood before the painting there on the table so it lay out of his line of sight. I wondered if Dave was too little, too late here, and Joey had already found his way inside here. He did however, eye the pendant around my neck and he ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his teeth at the sight of it. "Who gave you that?" he asked me. "This?" I fingered the pendant. "Yeah." "My mom." "That's badass." "Yeah, I'm... kind of a mama's girl." "I'm real close with my mom, too," he added with a toothy grin, "and she always supported me in my endeavors, too. And I can assure you that, since I'm as close to my mom as I am, in the meantime, Mr. Bellardini will have to find the path to your heart if he wants you." He winked at me and doubled back out to the hallway, which in turn left me alone there with the painting on the table. I was lying to the boys, but it was only because I wanted both Chris and Joey. I also had a bet now with Lars.

[angrypedestrian]

I had a very slow day at work and thus had a lot of time to head canon about what music The Time Idiots like to listen to. Music head canons are the only head canons I truly care about, so I welcome any and all debate on these points. PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT THE OBSCURE NO WAVE ALBUMS LEN LIKES. (Also I included links for some of them. I had A LOT of time at work today).

I imagine that once a week or so, Ray rallies everyone to do their chores, during this time they take turns picking music to listen to ala Empire Records. Selections can and are vetoed. Frequently. Here is what they pick:

Rip's favorite genre of music is BBC News Hour. (he also likes old jazz and this is the first and best thing he and Amaya bond over)

Sara getting shipwrecked was a damn shame cause 23 year-old Sara Lance would've been ALL OVER Kesha in 2010. Alas, we all missed out on this beautiful possibility. Anyways, Sara's super into hip-hop like Amplify Dot, Cakes Da Killa, and Angel Haze at her hardest, especially for working out. That and, like, really intense electro stuff like You Love Her Coz She's Dead. For just like hanging out listening I imagine she's into instrumental chillwave stuff because everyone is concerned she's going to actually have an aneurysm one day. That and the stuff she listened to when she was 18, which I imagine was like Paramore's first album and From Under The Cork Tree and a lot of pop radio? But she keeps that to herself lest she lose her sense of authority.

When Amaya first came to the US, getting to learn about and listen to new music was one of her favorite things. She loves jazz and blues from the 20s and 30s and Ma Rainey is her favorite singer. Sara, Nate, and Gideon all introduce her to more modern stuff she learns to love as well like Valerine June and Esperanza Spalding.  And she takes a liking to bluegrass/roots ladies like  Rhiannon Giddens, Sarah Jarosz, and Sara Watkins. Gideon shows her Be Steadwell and Amaya falls so in love that everyone gets mildly concerned.

Zari didn’t have a lot of time to listen to music in, y'know, facist dystopia, but Behrad amassed a small collection of punk 7 inches that he hid all over.  Most were terrible, but she has always held a special place in her heart for shitty political punk because it reminds her of him. She liked Strike Anywhere a lot until she saw a picture of them and she was like "lol nope" (there's a white guy with dreads involved). Behrad really liked Los Crudos, so she really likes Los Crudos, even though she doesn't really understand Spanish. Once she's has access to like, all music ever made, she gets really into riot grrl, even tho it was white as fuck and she rolls her eyes at it a lot. Gideon plays Childbirth for her and it legit tickles her, so she’s a fan for life. And she immediately makes Sara listen to them. She's also constantly listening to Zelda soundtracks, which Ray, Nate, and Jax all fucking LOVE.

Lets be real, Stein is a Beatles stan. And Bob Dylan right when he went electric because Stein was a teenager and that is exactly the sort of very very precious rebellion Stein would've been all about. He still prefers Dylan acoustic (hence also why he loves Joan Baez more) but he respects him needing to take his art in a new direction. As he got older, he, like every other dad, started listening to A LOT of James Taylor.

Jax’s favorite artist is probably Kid Cudi, and generally he is into more chill hip-hop and R&B. He digs Frank Ocean and secretly LOVES Drake’s whiny ass and one day Sara caught him listening to Take Care and proceeded to call him emo for the next 3 months. He likes picking k-os and Immortal Technique for everyone else to listen to, but he is the most willing to go with  whatever anyone else on the ship wants because he grew up with Spotify and Pandora and is just like, MUSIC IS GREAT THIS IS ALL GREAT.

Ray was a teenager in the mid-90s, there is no way this boy did not have THE BIGGEST ska phase of all time. He wore suspenders and terrible hats. He loved his band dork friends' dorky, terrible bands. The goofier the band, the better, so he was all about Five Iron Frenzy (it took him a very long time to realize that half their songs were super Jesus-y, but even after he found out he still loved them) and Planet Smashers. As he got older, he never really stopped listening to ska, he just found better bands (he's a goner for The Selecter). He's also very into 80s new wave. He thinks “Space Age Love Song” by A Flock of Seagulls is the greatest song ever written (he is not wrong).

Nate is the most basic white man alive. I don't care what canon has given us, he is a Springsteen stan THROUGH AND THROUGH. He has "Born To Run" tattoed across his chest. Consequently, he loves Gaslight Anthem and Brian Fallon's solo stuff. There is no way this is a man who has extensive opinions on Billy Joel, aside from belting Piano Man at the top of his lungs like god intended. He is also unsurprisingly a big Tom Petty fan. His secret shame is garbage folk stuff like Mumford and Sons. He is almost always automatically vetoed when it is his turn to pick music.

Mick is very much all about 80s metal. Pantera, Anthrax, Metalica, Slayer, all of it. He’s also real into 80s and early 90s hardcore. He’s obviously not straightedge, but he was really into the scene because he could beat the shit out of people (Earth Crisis was probably a little late for him, but shit like that). He has a drumset and a guitar in his bunk and I think that in his youth he was in a hardcore band. They were terrible, but they were fast and loud and kids fucking loved smashing themselves into one another at their shows. They were together for like 2 years and opened for Youth of Today once. Zari's brother had one of their EPs in his collection, but she never listened to it and has no idea.

Len is without a doubt the most snobby person about music on the team. Post-punk, no wave, some power-pop and weirder new wave are his jam, stuff with a tiny bit of theatricality and weirdness to it. Definitely Talking Heads and Echo and the Bunnymen. He also has a part of his heart cordoned off specifically for Blondie’s first album, even more specifically “A Shark In Jets Clothing.” Most of the stuff he likes is super obscure bands that made one album in 1982 and then disappeared. Ray’s really into a lot of it and is always trying to get Len to listen to poppier 80′s stuff, but then Len just turns up The Fall louder. The like, one, “modern” (lol time) band he likes is Self Defense Family.

Kendra is one of those people who just gets lost in music. She has favorites from every lifetime and there are certain melodies that are like sense memories from like 2000 BC or 1873 or whatever. In this current incarnation she’s very into the divas and queens of soul and disco- Chaka Khan, Donna Summer, Diana Ross, etc...She adores 60s Motown girl groups and R&B girl groups from the early-mid 2000s. No one ever vetoes her choices, even Mick and Len, because it makes her so goddamn happy. 

Ava enjoys the rare sound of blissful silence and tbh doesn’t really like music that much. Or doesn’t really get it. Then one time after a really frustrating mission Gideon played Punch for her and Ava secretly got SUPER hype (she nodded her head to it) because she has a lot of very well contained rage and threatened Gideon with deleting her if she ever told anyone.

The only song everyone agrees on that never gets vetoed is Goodbye Earl by The Dixie Chicks. Gideon originally played it once as a joke, but no one objected. No one knows why and no one talks about it.

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter one (”welcome to no pants island”)

A/N: I'm on Instagram where I post my darling cartoons—my Joey and Anthrax ones are crazy hot right now, so come check me out! badmotorartist 💜😘

If I post fic updates, they'll be in Stories because... y'know. Rule of fandom and whatnot ;) xoxo

*upstate new york accent* previously on now it's dark:

a whole lotta girls, namely marcia and gwendolyn, who want joey, but there's lupe

dominique probably has his eye but then there's lupe

seattle is a thousand years ahead of everyone

death is cryptic and ghosts are real

joey is always hungry, randy, pensive, or some combination of the three

lars is in new york because his marriage is on the rocks because he's obsessed with finding out what happened to maya, about as much as joey

oh, and the big one: maya and brick may or not may not be suffering from the same thing and joey vowed to find out even if it kills him

November 18, 1988. Oswego, New York.

“God, it's dark in here.” The second floor of Black Orchid has no lights switched on, and yet it feels quite warm in here. But I'm trusting her on where she's taking me.

It's been almost two weeks since I last saw Lupe at Black Orchid, and even after then I managed to see her around town. It had always been a fleeting glimpse on my part but she was always within my presence. I know she's only a stripper and I'm not looking for anything given I'm trying to take care of myself, but she does it better than Gwendolyn. I don't know, I think it's the fact she's always been so dialed back towards me whereas Gwen's always wanted to behold her pussy to me on a silver platter. Lupe has that lovely black hair that reminds me of my own, that little face with the big brown eyes which also remind me of my own, and she's got that little laugh that sounds like two wine glasses clinking together. She reminds me of myself, and those big hoop earrings hanging off of her ears and all of her jewelry only add to it.

I have met up with her at Black Orchid on this particular evening, the week after Veteran's Day and the weekend before Thanksgiving. I've always been kind of reticent on the topic of Thanksgiving because of the whole thing with the Indians and whatnot, then again I've always been rather standoffish on the topic of my heritage but it's times like this the almost three centuries worth of agony creeps up inside of me. I go to the supermarket and I see all of those turkeys on display and I can't help but feel with those birds. I return home and I can't help but think of Brick back at the House of Grey. Even if Thanksgiving wasn't such a weird subject for me, I'm not really in the mood to consider anything for the next week aside from traveling down to Camillus to visit my parents and then over to Buffalo to my aunt and uncle's house.

I'm not really in the mood to think about Maya too much, either.

The one thing I'll say about her is I hope with all sincerity that she's alright back in Seattle and that she transformed away from that dragon monster thing. I mean it when I say I'll figure out what's up with her and Brick even if it kills me. I've got nothing else going on, anyway.

Well, that's not quite right.

The past week, I've managed to sit down on the couch in my apartment with that pad of paper I nicked from Kim's apartment and scribble down some thoughts.

I didn't hold anything back. I just unleashed everything onto paper with nothing more than a pen.

I managed to write something that resembled somewhat to lyrics. I don't know if they are—usually when I think of lyrics, I think of poetry. I think of Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan, and I think of James Hetfield and of course Scott. I'm a far cry from a lyricist. But at one point, I had filled out the notepad with words, all pages front and back with lyrics, all of them for songs. Should I give these to someone like what Anthrax did for me? 

No. These are my own. These are from the inside of me. These are my thoughts, my heart, my soul, my body, my sexuality, every single thing that I’m feeling, everything that says Joey Belladonna written down in prose form.

These are Joey Belladonna by himself songs. This is me. This is every inch of me written down. I need to bring them to life. I counted thirty-three here so I’m good for an album or two, or maybe more in fact; the other good part of this is I can probably play drums again.

But I have said plenty for now. I am with Lupe for the evening. She’s taking me to the second floor of the strip joint for some time alone together. I took the bus over here from my place and passed the gutter where I had found Maya, only to find a massive heap of snow there. I had a fleeting thought upon walking by that Death had left that pile of snow there as a reminder. But it didn’t last very long so I couldn’t fully analyze it. I came to the front step of Black Orchid and was greeted by Lupe herself before I even knocked on the door panel. It was as if she knew I was coming.

She’s wearing those big hoop earrings that I like, as well as a little bright blue low cut blouse that hugs her body and rides up her waist with every step towards the stage there beneath the loft; add to this she’s got on those low riding jeans that are little bit baggy so she’s showing me a bit of flesh between her waist and the top of her crotch, and she’s wearing the right amount of spicy perfume.

I feel her hand resting upon my arm, and then I hear a tapping on the top of the table in front of me. I grope around for the edge of the chair: once I find it, I tug it back in order to take a seat. I nestle down in the chair with the lapels of my leather jacket pulled up to my face.

“Are you cold?” she asks me, which surprises me given I can’t see anything here. Maybe she can hear my jacket rustling.

“I got a little chill,” I admit to her.

“I’m gonna make it warm up in here,” she vows, touching the tip of my nose with two fingers. I hear her step away from me in those three inch come-fuck-me stilettos towards the stage. There’s a pause.

Then the lights surrounding the stage flick on and bathe the stage and the pole in rich golden light. Lupe steps onto the stage, still in the blouse and the stilettos, but she took off her jeans and is showing off royal blue fishnets over black silk panties and a black leather belt embedded with silver stones around her waist. She had slipped on black leather gloves extending to her elbows, and I see she has a smudge of body glitter under her belly button. She gives her black hair a toss back to where most of it is over her shoulder, and then she flashes me a seductive look.

I raise my eyebrows at her cocking her hip out at me. I feel my own cock raising his head at the sight of her.

“Come on, big boy—” she tells me in a husky voice. She grips onto the pole and shows me her tongue. I watch her sashay, stick out her ass and sway her hips, show me her belly button and the inside of her thighs and the crotch of her panties. I can tell she shaved.

The fishnets barely contain her olive skin while the shirt just keeps riding further up her body until it’s underneath her tits. It takes me a minute to realize the fishnets have little twinkling neon lights embedded in the threads.

That’s when she strips off the blouse to show me her little black lace bra with a pair of cups with those frilly designs just covering up her nipples. She’s got glitter sprinkled in between her breasts.

“So what do you think, sugar baby?” she asks me, touching the spot on her breast that’s the site of her nipple.

“Yeah, baby doll,” I confess as the waist of my jeans are tightening. “Yeah!”

She parades down the stage and towards me. She rests one knee atop my thigh and leans in closer to my face. Her fingers comb through my hair on the side of my head to keep it out of my face. She leans in closer to my neck as if she’s about to kiss me but she hesitates right before my jawline.

“I’ll give ya a little spankin’ while I’m at it, big boy,” she breathes into my ear.

“Not if I do it to ya first,” I retort in a hushed voice. She has her chest right in front of my face: I’m about two inches from her nipple and the one thing separating me from it is that little bit of lace. She smells so good it’s driving me insane.

She pushes up against me but then she pulls back real quick. She opens my jacket so my chest is exposed.

“You gonna--” I choke out, feeling my heart pound in my chest. “You gonna--?”

She runs her fingers down my chest and I writhe in the chair underneath her. I try to relax but she’s going all the way down to my waist. She presses her tits up against my chest. My jeans are so tight.

She rolls over onto me and before she can take a seat on me, I raise my hand and give her a little slap. She gasps at that and sits down on my lap. She grinds her hips right over the crotch of my jeans. I’m getting hard.

“My pants are so tight,” I plead to her with a gasp.

“Welcome to no pants island, baby boy,” she whispers to me. “I’m about ready to come--” Meanwhile, I’m breathing heavier with every grind. Then she shakes her ass right over my lap. I’m about to totally lose it now.

She turns over again and this time slides down my legs to unbutton my jeans. She tugs down my underwear and takes out my dick. She puts her lips around the head and blows me. I tilt my head back over the top of the chair as she’s going deep. I’m all the way inside of her mouth and then she moves out again. Lupe’s sucking on me so hard and so deep that I come inside of her. She swallows.

Well, shit.

Lupe takes her mouth off of me and from the afterglow of the stage lights, I can see the glimmer in her eyes. She wants it. She wants it from me.

“You wanna--” My voice breaks. “You wanna head upstairs and--?”

“Please,” she pleads to me.

“Okay, let me just--” I gaze into her face. She wants it so bad, and so do I. “Eh, fuck it, let’s just go upstairs and do it. I’m gonna take my pants off anyways.”