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musical-shenanigans · 2 years ago

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Frank And Punch - Show #3

Title: The Frank and Punch Show

Show Release Date: April 28, 2021

We are officially Musical Shenanigans.

Your big question is how much effort, research, committee formation, surveys, and subcommittees went into the development of this title, and the answer is none of the above. I found the Buzzsprout website where we could host the first two shows that were recorded and I was in the midst of editing the third show when I needed to create a name for the site. I just threw out the two words, validated that they were not in use anywhere else in the podcast world (PodSphere? PodVerse?), and sometime before we recorded this show, I floated the name out, and everyone seemed agreeable. And that is about it. I know, it's not real sexy. Sorry.

Now, before I get into the show, I want to drop a quick poll here that will end sometime in the very far future (It ends in a week, but I will try to kick it off again), because there is not enough people putting eyes on this (at time of posting) to really matter.

So let's dive into the show.

Admittedly, the title of this specific show was given more time and effort than the name of the Podcast. Believe it or not, it actually has a few meanings. The first, which is discovered in the show, is that Scott does not like Frank Sinatra and listening to his voice made him want to "punch someone in the anus" - he really does wax poetically, doesn't he? The second meaning plays on the punching and is taken from the old puppet show Punch and Judy - where the two puppets beat the snot out of each other. And finally, the third meaning is a little more of a reach, but if any of you every watched the television show CHiPs from the 70s and 80s, one of the leads, played by Erik Estrada, was named Frank Poncherello - and that was why the name Frank came first and the show was not called the Punch and Frank Show. Of course, I do not think anyone likely knew about that reference until this moment.

Also on this show is the introduction of Scott's "Rocket to the Sun" and the respective passengers he is placing aboard. The subject comes up for a few more shows and then gets forgotten for a long time. Eventually, we bring it back as a centerpiece (Author's Note: The Centerpiece is the bit that happens between the two rounds that occur in the future, and we are still a few shows away from the concept of "rounds" and doing what we are doing now.)

We are starting to gel and the rhythm of the show is coming together and the number of albums was boosted to five. And at twenty minutes, with two ridiculous commercials, we are still not hitting at the depth we would eventually hit. Don't get me wrong, the conciseness works, and this method will work brilliantly when we get to our bracket system way down the road.

The commercial (maybe one can hear the sighing from wherever they are).

Buford's Second Chance Homes was the concept of honest advertising in Real Estate. They are not trying to hide that a house is haunted, or that a heinous crime occurred in it. I don't think it really landed, but I have a huge thank you to Scott, my daughter, and Cathy for their voice talents. Cathy is a veteran podcaster from the show "Stuck in the 80s" - and listening to the very early episodes that she is in, I learned about the dynamics of managing three voices in a podcast and attempting to find the right balance (and I am still learning). Otherwise, the premise kind of works, but still not a great execution.

References:

In our discussion on Frank Sinatra

Hank Williams - "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" (not lonely)

Frank Sinatra Documentary - "Sinatra: All or Nothing at All"

In our discussion about Boogie Down Production

Songs from the album we noted: "9mm Goes Bang", "Poetry", "Dope Beat" - the one with the sample AC/DC's "Back in Black"

Great article on where Hip-Hop can claim it started called "Battle of the Boroughs: The Quest for NYC Hip-Hop Supremacy"

In our discussion on AC/DC

The misadventures of Bon Scott. Read about it here.

In our discussion about Fleetwood Mac

The Fake Fleetwood Mac that went out on the road. Here is an article about that debacle.

The albums as described by ChatGPT

Frank Sinatra - "In the Wee Small Hours" (1955):

"In the Wee Small Hours" is a landmark album by Frank Sinatra, released in 1955. The album features songs that explore themes of heartbreak and loneliness, and is considered one of the earliest concept albums. The music is backed by a small jazz ensemble, with Sinatra's crooning vocals front and center. The album's melancholic tone and introspective lyrics have made it a favorite among fans of jazz and pop music.

Boogie Down Productions - "Criminal Minded" (1987):

"Criminal Minded" is the debut studio album by Boogie Down Productions, released in 1987. The album is considered a classic of the golden age of hip-hop, featuring hard-hitting beats and politically charged lyrics. The group's leader, KRS-One, delivers his rhymes with a commanding presence, touching on issues such as police brutality, racism, and inequality. The album's impact on hip-hop is still felt today, with its influence on later artists in the genre.

John Mayer - "Continuum" (2006):

"Continuum" is the third studio album by American singer-songwriter and guitarist John Mayer, released in 2006. The album showcases Mayer's skill as both a singer and a guitarist, with songs that draw on blues, rock, and soul influences. The album features hits such as "Waiting on the World to Change" and "Gravity," as well as deep cuts that showcase Mayer's musicianship. The album's mature and introspective themes have made it a favorite among fans of singer-songwriter and adult contemporary music.

AC/DC - "Back in Black" (1980):

"Back in Black" is the seventh studio album by Australian rock band AC/DC, released in 1980. The album is considered a classic of hard rock and heavy metal, featuring hits such as "Hells Bells," "You Shook Me All Night Long," and the title track "Back in Black." The album was a tribute to the band's former lead singer, Bon Scott, who had passed away earlier that year. The album's driving beats, thunderous riffs, and singalong choruses have made it a staple of rock radio and stadium concerts.

Fleetwood Mac - "Rumours" (1977):

"Rumours" is the eleventh studio album by British-American rock band Fleetwood Mac, released in 1977. The album features hits such as "Go Your Own Way," "Dreams," and "Don't Stop," and is considered one of the best-selling albums of all time. The album was written and recorded during a time of interpersonal strife and romantic entanglements among the band members, and the songs explore themes of love, betrayal, and heartbreak. The album's blend of rock, pop, and folk influences, as well as its rich vocal harmonies, have made it a classic of 1970s rock music.

#music commentary #music #musical shenanigans #rolling stone magazine #Frank Sinatra #Boogie Down Productions #Criminal Minded #john mayer #continuum #ac/dc #back in black #fleetwood mac #rumours #In the wee small hours #bon scott #brian johnson

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nereidprinc3ss · 25 days ago

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bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there.

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that.

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for.

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more.

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it.

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling.

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching.

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air.

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact.

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out.

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for.

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon.

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion.

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it.

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him.

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline.

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits.

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles.

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time.

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest.

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment.

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble.

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling.

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind.

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him.

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway.

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact.

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair.

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs.

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long.

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind.

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving.

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed.

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles.

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly.

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer Reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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