#even the album cover was stale

[sushivisa]

“Panic! at the Disco broke up” bitch breaking up implies there’s more than one person here. I’d say it’s been disengaging since 2009 and just finished. Like one of those time lapse videos of a rotting watermelon but it had makeup at one point.

[gleamingyu]

hits different.

part I of the midnights series. inspired by taylor swift’s midnights. part II

pairing: music-producer!seungcheol x lawyer!fem!reader [exes-to-lovers]

genre: romance. slight angst. drama.

warnings: she/her pronouns for reader (but no specific physical characteristics). mentions of a pretty rough breakup. slight angst. some light cursing. mentions of death (jokingly though). terrible knowledge of law stuff (thank my brief interest in htgawm). yearning. loads of miscommunication. slow burn. cheol & reader are both stubborn. mentions of drinking. alternating povs. lower caps intended [if there’s anything i missed, please let me know!]

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is the first part of a new series i thought of! this is also my first time writing (or more like, finishing writing) something, so please be kind! any comments, reblogs or likes are welcome. and thank you to whoever decides to give this a chance :)

summary: still recovering from a not-so-fresh breakup, seungcheol leans on his friends to get back on his feet. it turns out to be much easier said than done, especially when his record label recruits the help of a law firm to deal with a recent scandal, which just so happens to be the same firm his ex works at. just his luck.

if anyone could see the scene in front of mingyu, they’d be severely concerned, much like he is at this very moment.

seungcheol is quite literally buried under a pile of blankets on his bed, the only visible part of his body a tuft of his dark brown hair. the floor of his bedroom is covered in clothes and empty food containers, and the air feels so stale and hot, it’s taking everything in mingyu not to gag. there is no light coming into the room except from the lightbulb shining in the hallway where mingyu is standing, and… is that… phoebe bridgers he can hear playing from somewhere?

mingyu glances down at his feet where kkuma, seungcheol’s devoted dog – and only girl who’s ever truly loved him, according to him – is sitting staring right back at him, a look on her fluffy face that mingyu swears looks just as depressed as her dad.

“this is way worse than i thought,” mingyu sighs, finally stepping into the bedroom. “okay, enough of this!”

mingyu grabs the blankets on the bed and pulls them away, revealing a very aggravated seungcheol. “what the hell are you doing?!”

“i’m not sure yet, because this,” mingyu gestures around the room, “is a lot. but it starts with you getting your ass out of bed and into the shower. immediately. this place smells like there’s a corpse somewhere in here.”

“yeah, it’s me. i’m the corpse. or i wish i was, because that would mean i’ve finally died,” seungcheol groans, turning away from mingyu and effectively shoving his face into the bed.

mingyu sighs, turning around to start collecting some of the dirty clothes on the floor. he finds himself regretting not calling jeonghan or joshua to come with him, because seungcheol might have been more easily persuaded to stop moping with them around. the reality is, they all thought seungcheol was doing better; he was back on his grind at work, finishing several albums he had been producing for, he was making progress in his jiu-jitsu classes, and he even joined the rest of the guys on their trip to australia last month, with minimal persuasion from his friends.

looking at the shell of a man laying on the bed in front of him, mingyu realizes he should’ve asked. he should’ve asked his friend how he was really doing, what he was feeling, what he could actually do to help him move past this.

better late than never.

“listen,” mingyu starts, going to sit on the edge of seungcheol’s bed but reconsidering. who knows when he last changed these. “i’m sorry if we haven’t really been there for you. i know a thing or two about breakups and heartbreak, so i guess i should’ve figured you weren’t alright, not like you said you were. you don’t have to keep all you’re feeling locked up. you can talk to us.”

seungcheol’s head moves slightly to the side, peeking at mingyu from the corner of his eye. he sighs, and turns on his back. mingyu tries not to cringe at seungcheol’s sullen face, his eyes red and still wet, as if he was still crying when mingyu arrived at his apartment.

“don’t beat yourself up, gyu. believe it or not, i was actually doing better. but a few days ago, i … i was cleaning around the closet by the entrance and …” he pauses, and mingyu thinks he might burst into tears. seungcheol breathes in however, closes his eyes, and continues. “i found one of her old hats. you know, the yellow crochet bucket hat she always used to wear in the summer? i bought it for her birthday when we had just started dating and … i don’t know, i just broke down. it hit me again that we’re over. like really.”

you and seungcheol broke up … four, five months ago? seungcheol shakes his head, he feels like time hasn’t passed the same since. days pass him by where he just goes over and over your last conversation – which was more of a fight, really – and he always ends up regretting everything he said that day. regrets resenting you for always working late, for never asking him to accompany you to firm events… regrets accusing you of some unspeakable things.

looking back, he can’t believe how big of an idiot he was. no wonder you left and didn’t even bother to come back to get your things. you left everything behind, all your clothes that still smelled of the lavender detergent you used to buy, your makeup haphazardly thrown into one of the bathroom drawers, the cooking books you always bought “for inspiration” but never, ever actually opened… and the yellow bucket hat you got from seungcheol for the first birthday you spent together. seungcheol had left everything where it was, a tiny part of him hoping you two would work this out somehow. but weeks went by with no word from you, and when he had tried reaching you, he came to the grave conclusion that you had blocked him on all platforms, cut him off from your life like a dead limb. back then he thought he deserved it. he still does.

“i’m sorry, hyung. i really am,” mingyu shakes seungcheol from his reverie, reaching a hand to pet his shoulder. a beat passes between them. “have you tried… calling her again since?”

“no. i don’t know what good it would do,” seungcheol sighs. “even if she answered, i doubt all the apologies i could offer would fix anything. i said some pretty fucked up shit.”

“yeah, i know. if you remember, i was there the next day ripping you a new one,” mingyu teases, desperately trying to cheer up his friend somehow. he swears he can see seungcheol’s lips twitch a bit. “but who knows… now that you both had some time to yourselves, you might actually be able to overcome this calmly. and if… if it doesn’t work out in the end, at least you’ll both have some closure.”

closure. that’s a funny word, because seungcheol wants the furthest thing from closure. he wants you back in his bed and your arms around him, he wants your indie artists he’s never heard of playing around the apartment in the morning, he wants your laugh echoing in the halls. he wants you.

he knows that the only way this ending could even be a possibility would be if he actually took mingyu’s advice and called you up, but another part of him is terrified of the other possibility: the one where you pick up and tell him to go to hell and fuck himself and never call you again or show his face around you. so for now, seungcheol opts for a third option: emotional limbo, with a side of trying-to-move-on.

he gets up from the bed and asks mingyu if he could help him straighten out the place. mingyu, bless his sweet heart, of course says yes and gets to work after sending seungcheol to clean himself up. just as he’s about to close the bathroom door, he hears mingyu’s exasperated voice.

“oh, for the love of god, where is that god-awful music coming from?!”

seungcheol can’t remember the last time he laughed so heartily.

the bar you find yourself in is bustling with people, laughter and cheerful conversations filling the space. you’re only half listening to whatever topic your two best friends, yunjin and chaeyoung, are discussing – something about “that bitch” in yunjin’s department at work that’s been giving her a hard time – instead reveling in the pleasant buzz of the champagne you’re nursing.

it had been a while since you were able to enjoy a nice evening with your girls. the past few months had been filled with endless meetings, client-induced headaches and sleepless nights, but thankfully, today you had managed to finally strike a deal for one of the firm’s most important clients (to be read as filthy rich), which you had been working towards all these months. naturally, upon hearing the news, chaeyoung and yunjin had begged you to join them at a bar in the city, “to celebrate your newfound freedom.”

you splurged on a bottle of champagne for the three of you and decided that tonight, you were going to have fun. you were going to relax, enjoy some drink, and catch up with your friends who you hadn’t seen in weeks.

and you will not, under any circumstances, bring up seungcheol.

you like to believe that in the last two months you had gotten better at shutting out any thought of your ex-boyfriend. in the days – more like weeks, if you were to ask chaeyoung and yunjin – following the ugly breakup, you were quite the literal mess. finding yourself alone and with nowhere to go, considering you had left the apartment you shared with seungcheol with nothing but your work stuff (how on-brand for you), it wasn’t surprising that your mental and emotional health had taken a massive hit. thankfully, at the insistence of yunjin, you agreed to crash at her place while you put yourself back together and took time off from work – something you had never done before.

to the surprise of your friends, it only took you two weeks to go back to work and start looking for your own place. two weeks after that, you were moving into a new apartment and claimed that you were feeling much better since the breakup. or at least starting to. chaeyoung and yunjin didn’t want to argue with you on this – even thought they 100% believed the front you were putting up was a load of crap – but in the end, they didn’t even have to, because the first time you went out with them again since the breakup, you had your first meltdown.

but was it really your fault that the man sitting two seats down the bar from you had ordered whiskey neat, just like seungcheol always used to? and was it really your fault that he was wearing a maroon leather jacket similar to the one seungcheol always used to wear in the fall, which you absolutely adored?

could they really blame you for bursting into tears right then and there and wailing about how much of a jerk seungcheol was for never understanding your dedication to your work? how much of a hypocrite he was for expecting you to just dip from the office when he suddenly had some free time, when he had never done so for you?

that night, chaeyoung and yunjin quite literally dragged you back to chaeyoung’s place and held you while you cried yourself to sleep, and in the morning, when you had embarrassingly admitted that “no, you weren’t really doing fine,” they held you again and offered soft-spoken words of support, opting to keep the classic we told you so in their thoughts.

four months passed since that incident and now, you could confidently say that you were truly feeling better. you weren’t quite over seungcheol per se; there were nights when you still thought about the smell of vanilla that filled the room whenever he was fresh out of a shower, the way he always got so giggly when you brought home a tray of cherries… yeah, you still found yourself missing him terribly sometimes. but the more time passed, you realized that seungcheol hadn’t tried reaching you at all in the months since the breakup, and so you thought he might be moving on as well.

it is true you had blocked him on all social platforms for weeks after you stormed out of your place. but on a particularly bad day, when all you did was cry and cry and cry after him, the thought of calling him up and asking him to go back to how things were crossed your mind, and you unblocked his number. unfortunately, your pride had set itself in your way, convincing you that it was seungcheol that needed to make the first step, considering he was the one who quite literally cornered you into a fight. so you didn’t call and instead prayed to whatever forces exist in the universe, that seungcheol would try your number again.

he never did.

“soooo, cheers to the lady of the hour! finally free from the clutches of corporate law!” yunjin cheered, clinking her glass against yours and knocking you out of your reverie.

damn it, seungcheol, i said i would not think of you tonight!

“yes, cheers!” chaeyoung joined in. “how do you feel? are you going to get a big ass bonus for the amount of time you put into this asshole?”

chaeyoung was probably right, you probably did deserve a huge ass bonus for the deal you pulled for the client you were handling. when you were in law school, you had never imagined yourself working for sleazy, corporate pigs who behaved like none of their actions would bite them in the ass eventually, and expecting others – like yourself – to clean up after them. but, as your boss grimly explained to you the day you had complained about your client, everybody has to start somewhere. “and junior partners don’t get to choose cases, sweetheart.”

life at the firm wasn’t always terrible. you were lucky enough to be part of an amazing team, and the firm worked with plenty of influential and big personalities, so you almost never had to worry about your income. but sometimes, some of the people you were asked to represent brought you to the brink of just quitting your job altogether.

“i just feel relieved,” you say. “if i had to hear the incessant whining and nagging of that idiot for one more day, i might have gone insane!”

“well, thank god you’re a stellar lawyer and managed to get rid of him,” yunjin teases, taking a sip of her drink. “do you already have anything else lined up?”

“god, no! i have a few days off just to take care of paperwork, maybe help out some of my colleagues around the office… but nothing big for now, thankfully.”

“oh, that’s amazing! which reminds me, this means you can actually join us on that weekend spa trip we were talking about last week,” chaeyoung happily suggests, as she’s already pulling up the website of the spa retreat.

“i guess a spa day would be nice,” you say, looking over at chaeyoung’s phone. you feel your body already going lax at the thought of a hot stone massage.

“oh, that would be so nice!” yunjin pouts. “we haven’t gone on a girls trip in so long! i miss going away, just the three of us… do you guys remember that trip we took to croatia two years ago? that was the best one we ever did, i swear!”

while chaeyoung joins yunjin in reminiscing about all the trips the three of you took over the years, you feel your phone buzzing in the pocket of your dress paints. pulling it out, you see an email notification…

“oh, no…” your voice trails off, reading over the email you had just received.

“what? what’s the matter?” yunjin asks, her conversation with chaeyoung coming to a halt.

“my boss just emailed me. he wants me in the office tomorrow morning. some big case that just came in,” you explain, already feeling a headache coming in.

“but tomorrow’s saturday,” chaeyoung frowns.

“i know… i know.”

when monday rolls around, seungcheol really wished that he had died before mingyu had found him the week before.

the day started normal enough. he woke up at 5 a.m. and took kkuma for a walk in the park near his apartment building, just like every morning. by 8 a.m., he was already set up in his studio inside the PLEDIS building, ready to work on the tracks he was supposed to finish mixing by the end of the week. seungcheol liked the buzz of the label, people from all different departments running around trying to stay on their schedules; it motivated him to also do his part diligently, and reminded him that he was extremely lucky to be doing one of the things he loves most: music.

seungcheol should’ve guessed something was up today the moment the clock struck 11 and jihoon, the other in-house producer of PLEDIS, and one of his oldest friends, hadn’t come by his studio. he and jihoon had known each other since their college days, having met in an audio engineering class they apparently shared, and had been friends for 8 years now. during their last year of college, they were recruited by a record label that was just starting out (which became the PLEDIS of today), and despite all warnings from their families, they decided to take a leap of faith together and join the company. it all worked out for the better, it turned out, as PLEDIS only grew and soon became a household name in the music industry.

as the only producers that have stuck around PLEDIS since the beginning, they developed several… traditions, or rituals over the years, one of which was jihoon’s 11 a.m. coffee run, which they’d spend sharing ideas and notes over each other’s work, and, if jihoon was in a particularly good mood, engage in some office gossip (not that either of them would ever admit it). today, however, jihoon is a no-show and seungcheol can’t help but wonder what his friend is up to.

when he shoots jihoon a quick text, asking if he’s alright, his friend only replies with a “just busy,” and tells seungcheol not to wait up for him at lunch, as he’ll probably be stuck in the studio all day. this doesn’t surprise him that much, seeing as jihoon might be an even bigger workaholic than he is, but he still can’t shake the feeling that something must be up with his friend. he decides that instead of going out for lunch, he’s gonna pick up some takeout and join jihoon in his studio. he wouldn’t be able to rest easy knowing his friend will go a day without eating anything.

once lunch hours begin, seungcheol takes a quick walk two blocks down the street to the restaurant mingyu works in, who’s already waiting for him with the food seungcheol had requested for him and jihoon. on his way back to PLEDIS, he texts jihoon again, just to make sure he’s still in the studio, but there’s no answer, and now seungcheol is seriously starting to get worried. he jogs the rest of the way until he’s back inside the building, and takes the elevator to the 6th floor where jihoon’s studio is stationed.

walking up to the door that reads UNIVERSE FACTORY, he stops in his tracks when he hears more than one voice from the other side of the door. he easily recognizes jihoon’s voice, but the other voices – two other men and a woman – are harder to make out. except… except the woman’s voice is eerily familiar, and without a second thought, seungcheol grips the handle and swings the door open, four pairs of eyes whipping in his direction.

his eyes land on jihoon, who looks like he wishes he was anywhere else in that moment, and then scan the rest of room, recognizing mr. han, their CEO, and… you. it’s you.

seungcheol feels like he’s going to faint. mr. han does not look the least bit happy about seungcheol’s intrusion, and he really wishes the man would slap him just so he can know for sure if he’s dreaming. if you’re surprised to see seungcheol, your face shows no sign of it, and seungcheol can’t help but stare at you. you look so beautiful, so put together; your make-up is soft, almost unnoticeable, your hair pushed behind your ears, and you’re wearing a dark green suit… oh, how he loved you in green.

you were the picture of grace and professionalism and he was… not. he really wishes he hadn’t come to the studio in sweatpants right now.

“mr. choi, what a… surprise,” mr. han exclaims, standing up from his seat, you and the other man – who seungcheol has no idea who he is, but he knows he doesn’t like the way he’s standing so close to you – following suit. “i didn’t know mr. lee was expecting you,” mr. han continues, glancing towards jihoon, who turned red as a tomato.

“i wasn’t, actually,” jihoon squeaks, avoiding both seungcheol and mr. han’s gazes.

“i apologize, i was… i was just bringing jihoon some lunch. i didn’t know there was… a meeting happening,” seungcheol says, looking towards you, and he’s almost thrown back by the way you’re just… staring directly at him.

mr. han sighs, but remembering the situation, he quickly puts on a polite smile as he turns towards you and the other man. “mr. choi is one of our other in-house producers. mr. choi, this is mr. jeon and miss L/N. they’re helping us with some… legal matters.”

so that’s why you were here. and who the other guy was. but what legal matters? and why was jihoon involved? and why didn’t he tell seungcheol?!

before seungcheol can ask more questions, mr. han gestures towards the door he came through and says “now, if you don’t mind, you can come back in a few minutes, mr. choi. we’ll be done soon.”

soon. soon, his ass!

seungcheol had been pacing the hallway outside jihoon’s studio for the past 20 minutes (he checked, he wasn’t exaggerating!), trying very hard not to eavesdrop through the door, and thinking of every possible reason why jihoon would need legal help and why you would be here.

jihoon was definitely in some kind of trouble. for the CEO to be involved as well, it for sure must be something that could affect the whole label. seungcheol just can’t understand why jihoon wouldn’t tell him if he had any kind of problem. they were colleagues, but most importantly, they were friends. he would’ve dropped everything to come to his aid.

now, when it comes to you… seungcheol knows you’re a lawyer, obviously he does. he met you when you were halfway through law school, and he was there for every failed and aced exam, for your graduation (he was so proud of you that day, it was the first time you’d ever seen him cry), for every measly job you had before finally securing the one you currently held at one of the top firms in the city. he also knows you’re a damn good lawyer, seeing how hard you work and how dedicated you are. he supposes it’s not surprising you were chosen to represent jihoon in whatever mess he got himself in.

he feels bad now that he remembers how he held these things above your head during your last fight. how you were working late so often, how you never asked him to join you at office parties, despite how eager you always were to go out with your coworkers for drinks, how you always asked him to wait for you outside the office building, as if you didn’t want people to know you had a partner...

he knows that both of you were to blame for how things went down between you, but since he started the argument in the first place, he thinks he could’ve brought all this up in a better way, at a better time.

his thoughts are interrupted when the door to jihoon’s studio opens again, and he finds himself regretting waiting in the hallway because now he has to face you again and he’s not ready and he doesn’t know what to say and he still looks like a hobo and –

“mr. choi!”

he looks up to see who he imagines is your colleague – mr. jeon – step towards him, as you and mr. han step out after him, discussing something. you glance once towards seungcheol before turning back to the conversation, and seungcheol feels his heart clench.

“mr. jeon, i’m sorry once again for interrupting your meeting,” seungcheol says, extending his hand to shake mr. jeon’s.

“don’t worry, no harm done at all. i’m actually glad you stuck around, because i had something to ask you. seeing as you and mr. lee are close, would you be available for a short talk with us, sometime in the next days? we’ll have to build a strong case for mr. lee and, well, some insight from his colleagues would be very helpful,” mr. jeon explains, fixing the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

seungcheol is taken aback by the man’s soft tone. his sharp eyes and cold look on his face made him look pretty intimidating, but his voice is the complete opposite, putting seungcheol weirdly at ease.

“o-of course, anything for jihoon,” seungcheol quickly replies. “can i ask, though, what exactly does he need help with?”

“plagiarism.”

“PLAGIARISM?!”

“you’re being sued. for plagiarism.”

“yes.”

“and you just found out last friday.”

“yes.”

“last friday when we all went out for barbeque and you didn’t even think to mention it? not even once?!”

“will you stop pacing and sit down? you’re making me even more nervous than i already am,” jihoon sighs, dropping his head in his hands.

seungcheol sighs as well, muttering a sorry, and sits down on the couch opposite jihoon’s chair.

jihoon continues. “i didn’t mention anything because i didn’t want to piss on everyone’s good mood. it was joshua’s birthday… besides, i didn’t know all the details of the situation at that point. i thought it was another baseless accusation, you know? but they’re serious about it. they wanna take me to court.”

“what? that’s insane,” seungcheol says. “i feel weird even asking, but did you even plagiarize?”

“no! of course not! i don’t even know the people!” jihoon exclaims, flopping down on the couch next to seungcheol. he lets out a long groan. “this is just what i needed.”

seungcheol pats his friend’s back, thinking of some encouraging words. jihoon was the most talented and creative guy he knew. to think that someone would accuse him of using somebody else’s work was a concept seungcheol couldn’t even entertain.

“don’t worry. that jeon guy looks like he’s already got a game plan.”

“and Y/N,” jihoon says.

silence falls around the two of them, until jihoon stirs from the couch, sitting up to look at seungcheol.

“are we just not going to acknowledge her or what?”

“no! that’s not what i…” seungcheol sighs, hanging his head. “i just wasn’t expecting to see her. i don’t know how to feel.”

“that’s understandable. you guys haven’t seen each other in a while, right?”

seungcheol shakes his head. “did she… did she say anything to you?”

“oh, no. she was super professional, went straight to business. but…” jihoon trails off, debating whether he should say what he was thinking.

“but? but what?!” seungcheol grabs jihoon’s shoulders, shaking him a little.

“but i think she was just as rattled to see you as you were. her hand kept shaking while she was writing, after you left. i guess she was just better at hiding her surprise,” jihoon continues. “now let go of me, you animal!”

seungcheol sighs. could it be that you were just as much of a mess inside as he was? the hopeful part of him thinks you might have thought of him all these months, just as he thought of you. the other part of him thinks your hand might as well just have been shaking from anger.

“you know, this might be a good thing,” jihoon says, getting up and sitting back in front of his computer.

“what, you getting sued and her being around?”

“yeah. maybe this way you’ll finally grow some balls, put your pride aside, and actually fix things,” jihoon deadpans, and seungcheol knows the conversation is over.

yeah. easier said than done.

[icallhimjoey]

Not Enough

♥ ♥  rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie's hauled you off to LA because, turns out, when you're not throwing your life away on booze and drugs, opportunities tend to lead to more opportunities. LA's amazing, and Eddie's amazing, and suddenly life is all about sun-freckles and exciting accomplishments but... something's missing.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, angst, mentions of substance abuse and addiction, trauma

Author’s note: This story continues my Eddie story that consists of “Only Now”, “Over Now”, “Then Again” and "Never Over". I've done my best to make it so that you don't really need to read all previous parts, but, it always helps.

Wordcount: 5.2K

(find all other parts of this story here)

The mattress dipped behind you before cold air wafted underneath the covers. Movement, noise of skin against fabric, fabric against fabric, and then the noise of a heavy head meeting the pillow next to you in an exhale.

Eddie was home.

Before you knew it, you felt a hand wander over, finding its way in between your thighs, pushing through soft flesh, and curling up until Eddie’s hand splayed out just below your bellybutton. With a strong yank, you were pulled backwards, right into him, butt first. You didn’t know why he had to pull you over to his side of the bed by your vagina, but, here you were.

Arms curled around you, a knee pushed your legs apart, just to sit in between, and within just a few seconds you found yourself fully tangled up together. Heavy limbs, deep inhales, bodies wiggling until they fit together just perfectly for sleep.

“Mhm,” was all you managed as Eddie used careful fingers to move your hair aside before he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt the brush of his lips all the way down in your toes and relished under his protective touch.

“You smell like the bath,” Eddie whispered, inhaling the sickly-sweet artificial scent bath pearls had left on your skin.

“Mhm, you smell like studio,” you croaked back, meaning you could smell cigarettes and stale sweat the long day had left on him. It wasn’t meant to be a dig at how you thought he smelled bad – it was fine. Kind of nice, actually. It was more a dig at Eddie having spent all hours of the day, and some of the night too, cooped up inside a dark little room with a bunch of other men. You’d have liked for some of those hours to have been spent with you.

“I think we’ve done it,” Eddie’s voice slipped into a whisper mid-sentence. “Finished it.”

You hummed in reaction, just to let him know that you heard him. Eddie'd said the same thing two weeks ago, but then, the next day, there were a million things to change and redo and add and take away - this album was becoming the bane of Eddie's existence.

But he said they'd finished it now, and you hoped it was true this time.

Maybe that’s why they’d worked until the early hours of the morning. Creative work didn’t really stick to set schedules – didn’t really stick to time in general. Which... it wasn’t a problem. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. But time and you weren’t really getting on all that well lately. There was just so much of it.

Ever since you’d moved to California with Eddie, there’d been so much time.

Too many hours in a day. Too many minutes in every hour. Too many seconds to make you think because there wasn’t really anything to do.

Turns out that when you’re sober and learn to actually show up to things; gigs, radio interviews, award shows, TV performances, movie premiers, photoshoots, writing sessions, and even things like fundraisers, album release parties of other artists... if you show up and do the work, act and behave like the professional musician that you are, you actually... make the money.

And there was a lot more money in this game than you thought Eddie would ever be able to make.

It also really helped that he wasn’t spending all of it on substances and hotel room damages. Not that Eddie didn’t have other ways to blow through his cash, though.

But, what the steady income of insane amounts of money mostly meant was the lack of work it left for you.

Eddie had hired designers to do the interior design of the LA house. Eddie had hired a personal chef to take care of every meal the two of you could ever want. Eddie had hired gardeners, a pool guy, cleaners, and a personal assistant who got fired almost instantly because they ended up just doing your laundry.

You knew it was all coming from a good place. The best place.

It had taken a lot from Eddie to work himself up to ask you if you’d want to move to LA with him. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel forced to move halfway across the country, just because he kind of needed to for work. Correction, he didn’t really need to. It would just be easier, way more convenient. Half the band was already making plans to leave Indiana and sure, Eddie could travel. He could fly in and out and you could too, and you absolutely could’ve figured out a way to live like that.

But when Eddie carefully asked, you’d not even hesitated for a second.

It actually took some real convincing from your side, because Eddie immediately backtracked and said to forget it. He didn’t want to burden you. It was a stupid idea to begin with, he could tell his manager to work out something else, because you had a job and an apartment and a life and how could Eddie ever even think to burden you like that?

“Burden me with what? Your life?” you’d asked, looking at him like he was insane. But Eddie had shrugged his shoulders up and you’d realised that that was exactly what it was.

Over the years your heart had shattered many times for Eddie. Looking at him then, all tall, hair longer than it’d ever been, tattoos on show, sort of... flashy looking with all his chains and rings and his shiny black pointed toe boots – he looked like the rockstar the public knew him as. But all you could see was a fragile fearful little boy who seemingly had shrunk down enough for you to fit him into your pocket, and your heart shattered once more.

“Baby, come here.” You’d reached for him, and he’d instantly fallen into you, both arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest, your hand in his hair.

“We live in a shitty little apartment above a bar where I serve beers to the same seven middle aged men all day,”

“But your life is here, you love your job,”

“No, I loved the sense of independence it gave me when I moved out of Hawkins, I loved learning new skills, getting better at working with new people,” you needed him to know within his bones that what he was asking of you wasn’t a burden.

“What I love more,” you elongated the word more and felt Eddie nuzzle his nose against your collar bone, ready for you to list some shit that would make him feel better.

“Is how you sold your massive penthouse of a place for me, how you came to live with me above a bar, how you trust me with your schedule, how you always check in with me, how you value my opinion, how you don't hesitate to cancel plans because of me, how you come and pick me up from work which, I don't know how you do it, but you do do it, you do it all the time– Eddie, you keep choosing me, and–” your voice went up an octave as your throat closed up.

“Don’t cry,”

But you couldn’t help it.

Eddie had sold the penthouse because it reminded you too much of bad times. Awful times when Eddie drank mouthwash and tried to convince you he wouldn't finish the bottle but then had called you all sorts of names when you tipped it over and washed the remnants down the drain.

Eddie came to live with you, because he practically already was anyway. But your place was a small apartment, a place that smelled of beer and liquor 80 per cent of the time. And Eddie said he was fine. He'd bake bread and cake and pastries, and you'd cried when you realised it was to cover up the smell of bar you carried on you after a shift.

Eddie was kind and nice and would call his therapist whenever he needed to, would go see her on a semi-regular basis. He'd tell you about his schedule and it was never just an announcement, but instead was always a question: does this work for us? Are we okay with this?

Eddie always chose you and made sure you really felt it because Eddie knew. Eddie understood that for fucking years you’d felt the exact opposite.

Eddie would sort of choose you, just for a few days, and then he'd leave and not contact you for months.

But that was before. Eddie chose you every day now.

He wasn’t a burden to you.

He truly wasn’t.

Eddie had burdened you. For years. Not anymore, though. Everything was fine now.

Wasn’t it?

Eddie had been good. So good. He’d found ways to wade through life without the drink. Got so deeply into cooking and baking for a bit as his new obsession. Needed all the best pots and pans, until he had a whole collection of expensive kitchenware that cluttered up all kitchen storage.

Then, he’d moved onto something else. Needed something different to spark all the things within him that needed sparking.

Now that you lived in LA, in a much larger house with so much more space, the garage, one of two, was filled with Eddie’s latest hobby: pinball machines. He’d get them shipped in from all over, all special kinds, real rare ones, machines crafted by specific craftsmen, graphics designed into specific themes.

It wasn’t even about playing, Eddie just… wanted to collect the best ones and wanted them all lined up, all shiny with lights flickering and music playing.

Sometimes you'd tell him, come on Eddie, invite over the old gang, get Mike and Dustin and Lucas in here for a weekend, do a big pinball tournament. But Eddie'd just smile and tell you when he'd be expecting the next one to be delivered.

Before pinball machines it had been neon lights. And you’d been supportive. Would drive out to weird thrift stores, vintage markets and often times random people’s houses until you’d said, “Ed, I’d like the bedroom to be calm and neutral… we don’t need a big blue neon sign in here that used to hang outside of that restaurant you really like...”. 

Eddie had laughed at himself then and realized the absurdity of what the house was turning into, had apologized, and then had sold all of them.

Except for the blue one.

The one that used to hang outside that restaurant he really liked. Where the owner would serve him apple juice in a wine glass and would seat Eddie in an area where he wouldn’t be able to see the bar. And then he’d play a Corroded Coffin song – just one, to show his appreciation for the visit, and then, wouldn’t let you pay the full bill, some dishes would always miraculously go missing.

Eddie kept that neon light which found a proud spot in a hallway upstairs that lead to one of the guest rooms.  

Yeah.

Overall, Eddie had been good. 

But some days, he’d wake up and he’d feel an inside want. Knew it meant something else was wrong, and this was just how his brain was wired to cope with it. He’d done work to rewire, but sometimes, wires crossed and all he really wanted was quick relief. 

In those moments, he knew he’d have find something else to satisfy that inside want. The need for quick relief.  

In those moments, he’d find you. 

Eddie had you there. Always with him. Stuck to his hip, and vice versa.

So, you had quit your job for him. You had moved across the country for him. You had given up your whole life for him Eddie thought, even though you assured him time and time again that this was the exact life you wanted. All you needed was Eddie. Eddie was your home, and Eddie was your all, and you loved LA.  

It was the perfect place to be for Eddie’s work. It was warm all the time, gave you permanent freckles that graced your nose. Your house was big, lovely, huge backyard with a big pool. You had ample room for people to come visit and stay for a few days. Weeks if they wanted to. Guest rooms with en suites and the one downstairs even with its own entrance, so when Wayne stayed over, he could go for early morning walks without fear of waking anyone up.  

The only thing about LA you didn’t like was that there was so much time.

And it was just you.

And Eddie.

And sure, the Corroded Coffin guys. And Eddie's manager was nice. Their producer too. But they all had work, and sometimes you tagged along and it was so exciting, always so fun. Red carpets and sound checks and green rooms and festivals – it was always new and your excitement for it fueled Eddie's excitement for it.

But then there were also days– weeks like these, where all Eddie did was write, and record, and rehearse.

You remembered being 18 and hanging out with Steve a lot, sometimes Robin too, when Eddie'd be busy writing, recording, and rehearsing with his band.

But Steve wasn't in LA.

Wait.

Scratch the time being the issue – the only thing about LA you didn't like was that Steve wasn't there.

Your tripod was your tripod no more.

Steve had come to stay for a week when you'd just moved, and your week had mostly been the two of you figuring out where to buy groceries before Eddie hired someone to get them for you. After that, you'd just lazed around the pool for the rest of the week until Steve had to fly back home.

A lot had changed in the 1,5 years that followed that week.

But you missed Steve.

Steve, who had met a girl he really liked, who Robin said was lovely, but also said that she probably wouldn’t really gel with you and Eddie. Something judgmental about her. Kind, though. And very pretty.

You were glad Steve had Robin nearby still, because you knew Robin, and you loved Steve. Steve deserved the best. Deserved someone who could love him like you loved Eddie.

Robin said she did, which was good. Reassuring.

And Steve loved her.

You’d only met her a couple of times before Steve had proposed to her. Engaged to be married, just a few months in. And barely a year later, you’d been invited to a home coming big barbecue pool party at Steve’s parents’ house in Hawkins. You'd barely been able to make it, but Steve had been very adamant about it.

"I never have parties anymore, you have to come,"

"There'll be a whole non-alcoholic section of drinks, don't you even worry about it,"

"I've already talked to Eddie's manager, he said he has the time,"

"Please,"

Like you really needed convincing. Of course you'd be there, wouldn't fucking miss it for the world. Neither would anyone else, because everyone was there. The whole gang and then some. Matt was there too, and seeing an ex was never fun, but it was actually sort of okay. You didn't love the fact that you were there with Eddie, because it felt like you were shoving it into his face a little bit, but Matt was still Matt, ever the Corroded Coffin fan, and walked up with a huge smile the second he'd spotted you.

You'd learned that late afternoon that Steve had been just as pushy with everyone else about coming to this party. He'd been calling around, double and triple checking to make sure everyone really was going to be able to make it.

That's when you found Eddie narrowing his eyes at you. Pondering. Something didn't add up. Or it did, but it felt like the math problem you'd been given wasn't the correct one. You knew exactly what Eddie was thinking, and about thirty minutes later, Eddie was proven right.

The party turned out to be Steve's surprise wedding.

Eddie and you had clutched your hands tightly together throughout the whole ceremony, because what the fuck was happening? You kept making eye-contact with Robin, and she kept shrugging as if to say that she knew just as little about all of this as you did.

"Steve's married," you'd said to Eddie afterwards, stood in the Harrington's kitchen, both sort of.... defeated. Unsure of what to make of it all.

Eddie leant against the counter, arms crossed and teeth biting into his lower lip, scraping off dry skin the plane's aircon had left him with.

"I don't know why I feel offended," you'd huffed a laugh at how ridiculous that sounded.

"Offended?" Eddie asked, eyebrows quirked, clearly confused.

"Yea, I don't know... I always thought that, if any of us were to get married one day, we'd all be... more involved? Like, you'd be Steve's best man, and I'd... you know, know the bride,"

Steve didn't owe you shit, you knew that. And you'd moved away. You supposed that's what happened in life – things changed. But this all seemed very drastic. Insanely sudden. Almost out of character.

"She seems like she's good for him," Eddie offered, and you immediately agreed. Not because you thought Eddie was right, you had no idea if he was, but because that's what you wanted to be true.

A silence fell where you both stared into space for a second to let the day sink in a little.

"Steve's married... this is so weird," you'd grimaced a little at it which made Eddie reach for your arms to pull you into a hug.

It was nice how you just got to hug and kiss in the very same kitchen where before, when Steve had you over for movie nights, you'd have to sneak around a little. Not be too obvious when Eddie pretended there wasn't enough room to move around whilst preparing popcorn and you basically ended up grinding up against each other until someone would call out what was taking you so long.

"Should we get married?" Eddie asked after a beat, obviously joking, and it got you into giggles immediately.

"I don't know of a better way to make my mother both the happiest and most disturbed woman alive," you said, cheek pressed up against his chest, knowing your mother had been waiting for most of your life for you to get married. She really wanted to have that huge wedding she could get all dressed up for, to be mother of the bride for a whole day. It was just that she wasn't the biggest fan of Eddie. If anything, within your little group, she'd always really pushed for you and Steve to get together.

"She'd be so conflicted," you imagined, which meant, maybe not right now, but you added, "Let's do it!" which got Eddie right in his funny bone and pushed a barking laugh from him.

"Maybe I should start playing golf,"

"Wear pastel polo shirts,"

"Take some etiquette classes, be more like Matt,"

"Stop, she'll marry you herself if she could– don't," you saw Eddie raise his eyebrows, pretending to consider it, so you'd shut him up before he could say anything and it reduced you both into giggles.

You'd decided to be the supportive friends you both imagined Steve needed. Decided you weren't going to mention how insane and sudden all of it was. Just be happy for him. Which you were.

You just... missed him, you guessed.

"I kind of need to get out of here," Eddie sighed, looking out into the backyard where a wedding was in full swing, people getting more tipsy with every sip of bubbly they had.

You knew what he meant. Feeling anxiety creep up in a place where there were drinks up for grabs was the exact wrong environment for him to be in.

"Yea, let's go," you pecked Eddie on the lips, went to find people to say goodbye to, and then it took two hours before you had finally walked through the gates with lots of promises to come visit LA in your pockets.

Yet, Steve hadn't come out to visit you since that first time when he'd stayed over for a week.

So, yeah. The only thing you didn’t like about LA that was it was far away from Steve.  

Steve who had gotten married about four months ago.

Steve whose phone calls had dropped in frequency over time, because d’uh, Steve was married now and you lived far away from each other, and you had your own lives. Were busy. Didn’t have time for dry catch-up conversations if the only updates were that Eddie had spent a lot of nights in the studio, and you kept busy managing his agenda.

Except you did have a lot of time.

It's just that people thought you didn't. All they'd see was Eddie's life. Eddie's life was on TV, on the radio, in the magazines and newspapers and people automatically assumed you'd be so busy.

You'd spent the day reorganizing your vanity as you'd heard the cleaners downstairs, and the chefs preparing food that they'd box up and leave in the fridge for you to have later. It was something you could've done within fifteen minutes, but you'd managed to stretch it to three hours. You weren't fucking busy at all. You could've easily spent hours on the phone to Hawkins.

But Steve was married, and you had cheated on Matt with Eddie which probably never sat right with Steve's new wife - not that you blamed her - and so you didn't call. Not often. Very rarely, actually.

When you woke up that next morning, Eddie still snoring into his pillow next to you, you'd gotten out and promised yourself that you'd call Steve that day.

When Eddie eventually made it down, sleep still in his eyes, hair everywhere, you apologised to the chef that was working on lunch for him being in just his boxers.

"Morning, babe," Eddie said before pressing a kiss into your hair as he ran a warm palm over your back.

"It's afternoon," you smiled over your mug of coffee.

"Well, was the morning good?"

"Morning was lovely, had a little swim," you watched Eddie as he moved to make his own coffee, and the chef behind him started making up two plates for you.

"I don't use that pool enough," Eddie said mostly to himself.

When he turned back to look at you, you inhaled sharply and gave him a polite smile. It made him frown a second. "What?"

"I'm going to call Steve today,"

You said it like it was something you could never do behind Eddie's back. Like it was a secret you'd feel bad about keeping to yourself.

"See if I can convince him to actually come over,"

Eddie nodded through his first sip of hot coffee, his face giving away that it was definitely too hot and burning his tongue.

"Tell him to bring Robin,"

You narrowed your eyes in thought.

"Do you think that'll help?"

Eddie shrugged. It might.

It shouldn't though. It was always you, Eddie and Steve. Just the three of you. And then, for a long time, it was you and Steve and only sometimes Robin.

But fine. You could always tell Steve to bring Robin if that would push him to actually take the time to come visit you.

When you called, you got Steve's wife.

"Hey, um, sorry, I was calling for Steve?"

"Yea, he's out. Can I take a message?"

"Oh, no, that's OK... I'll try again later, when do you think–"

"He's going to be out for a while."

"Oh..."

You didn't know how to react to that.

"Can I take a message?"

"No, I–"

And then she hung up. Just, hung up on you. No polite goodbye. No nothing. You looked at the receiver, then at Eddie.

"That was weird."

You didn't want to worry, so you chalked it up to bad timing. They'd probably just been in a fight. And, everyone fought, didn't they? Especially married couples who hadn't even known each other for a full year, you thought.

But of course you worried.

So you rang back a little later, but got told that if you didn't have a message for Steve, there was no use in calling because, like she'd said before, he'd be out for a while. There was something sad to her voice. Something that made you not push further, that made you not just ask, where is he, what happened?

When Eddie suggested for you to call Robin, you did, but got her answering machine. Three times.

You'd left a message that started out all up beat. Asked her how she was doing. Told her that you missed her, that she should come visit, the weather in LA was lovely and you had a guest room waiting for her to come and occupy for a little bit.

When you got all pleasantries out of the way, you mentioned Steve. The weird and very short phone calls you'd had with his wife.

And you wanted to tell her how it had never sat right with you, that Steve had met someone the second you'd moved away, and that he'd gotten engaged just a couple weeks after he'd been out to visit you in LA, and then a couple months later, he'd thrown a surprise wedding. You wanted to tell her that you thought this is how he'd gone about things, because maybe he'd been scared no one would've RSVP'd if you all had gotten wedding invitations in the mail. But you didn't say those things. Just said you missed them, her and Steve, and wanted to see them.

The more you thought about it, the more worried you got.

"What if something's wrong?" you'd asked Eddie when he was on his way out.

"Call again tomorrow, it'll be fine. People argue. Give it a little time,"

Logically you knew he was probably right, but something had taken residence within the pit of your stomach. Set up camp there, and you knew the only way to flush it out was by speaking to Steve directly. Or have Robin call you back to tell you Steve was doing just fine.

Fuck, if you could, you would've just made your way over to go and see for yourself.

But you were in LA. 

And Steve was in Hawkins still. 

Until he wasn’t.  

"Um... babe?" Eddie called from the front step, door handle still in his hand, sunglasses somehow balanced on his forehead, just above his brows. His other hand shook his car keys into his fist when he looked back at you.

It was the next day, and Eddie had a meeting with his label. Nothing crazy, just a word on the tapes the band had dropped off the day before.

You looked, and from where you were sat, you weren't able to see much of what Eddie was looking at. Until he stepped aside a little, and someone stepped onto the threshold.

Suitcases came into vision first, one in either hand, and then, Steve was suddenly there, on your doorstep in LA, dark sunglasses hiding his emotions.

And he hadn’t known what to say, just looked at you as you'd gasped upon seeing him.

You’d rushed over immediately, arms open and you were so ready to fall into him, but you hadn't anticipated that he'd fall into you as well. Suitcases dropped and you crashed into each other. It audibly pushed the air from your lungs, and it hurt, but that didn't matter.

You heard a soft, "Careful," coming from Eddie, who held out both hands in case you were to lose balance, which you didn't.

Steve hugged, and you hugged and Eddie stood and watched, waited his turn to hug Steve. When he realised his turn wasn't going to come, because you were pushing fists into Steve and his grip didn't seem to be faltering soon either, he turned your hug into a group hug and you stood like that, on the threshold of your open front door for entirely too long.

"I called you yesterday, twice." you murmured. "Robin too,"

"I know," was all Steve said, and you wondered how he knew. Were the phone calls why he'd traveled to LA? Or had he already been on his way? Had he already booked the flight before you'd reached out?

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really,"

You felt Eddie's arms tense up, squeeze a little tighter, and you knew it was because he was about to pull back.

"I'm sorry, I've got... work, but please, come in, make yourself at home, have some food, take a shower," Eddie listed things off on his fingers as you finally broke the embrace.

"Are you telling me I stink?" Steve asked, the humorous undertone easily detectable in his voice.

"Yes," Eddie deadpanned before wanting to carry on the list, but your laugh interrupted him.

"We were never this blunt with him, were we?" Steve looked at you, and you recalled all the times Eddie had come to visit Hawkins, looking worse for wear and smelling like the men's room of a dirty dive bar. Steve immediately received a punch to the shoulder from Eddie.

"I'll be back in a couple hours,"

And so you'd said goodbye to Eddie, had invited Steve inside and had shown him to his room - the same one he stayed in last time. Not the one with its own entrance, but the one upstairs, close to your own bedroom.

Steve put his suitcases down on the ottoman by the end of the bed and sighed deeply.

"Sorry I didn't call before flying in,"

"Don't be, I literally called you yesterday to tell you to fucking come over already,"

Steve smiled as he started moving clothes from one of the suitcases onto the bed, stacking things in neat piles. You leant into the doorway, arms folded over your stomach, and you felt all sorts of feelings that all lead straight to guilt.

There was obviously something going on. Steve had taken off his sunglasses and revealed puffy skin and red-rimmed eyes. The hostile tone his wife had spoken with to you hadn't left your mind yet, either.

But, Steve was here now. Right where you wanted him to be, and you were reunited as the three-piece that you had always been. Morning, noon and evening. Sun, wind and rain. Birth, life and death. Past, present and future. It had always been the three of you, and even though you'd grown up, and lives had changed, having Steve over gave you the opportunity to drown in nostalgia for a few days.

Feel... complete for a little while.

Wait, that reminded you.

"How long are you staying?"

Steve kept busy and didn't look at you as he shrugged up both his shoulders.

"I don't know,"

You didn't respond. Just watched him unpack. Gave him the space to think his thoughts before he vocalized them which you knew he sometimes needed.

Then he turned his head to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up a little, almost as if he was apologizing.

"How does a month sound?"

---

The Taglisted: 

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(two places left on my taglist: first come, first serve)

[munsonsduchess]

Scrunchie Love

summary: you go to a halloween gig at the hideout and meet eddie after the show who needs some help with his hair w/c: 1,591 warnings: smoking, mentions of a serial killer, the reader briefly feels scared to be alone with eddie a/n: holy shit would you look at that? i am indeed, alive! i'm as shocked as you guys are! honestly i have just had zero motivation to write anything since the summer but i wanted to make sure i posted something for halloween so enjoy!

The air was thick with stale sweat, stale beer and stale smoke as you pushed your way through the crowd for the exit and the promise of fresh air. You’d seen all you’d came to see that evening and had no intention of sticking around longer than necessary. 

The hideout was a small, dingy bar at the best of times but the owner filled it to capacity and then some for nights like this. Halloween was always the one night a year they could be sure of a crowd, even more so since Corroded Coffin had sprung to fame when their guitarist was accused of murder. 

After the real murderer was caught and Eddie Munson’s name had been officially cleared by the shady looking government types who’d swarmed Hawkins after the fact, the owner of the Hideout was only to happy to let the band start playing again. Any attention is good attention after all. 

It was hard enough to get access to new music in the current day and age , with mothers crying on the news about their poor innocent children being “taken in” by the devil’s music or Preachers at pulpits warning against letting anything ‘impure’ into the home. It didn’t help that in the middle of nowhere Middle America it took longer for new music to reach the record stores and radio stations than it did in the big cities or even Indianapolis itself. 

So there you were standing outside a dive bar in a town you didn’t live in because you’d heard about a show and wanted to see if the band lived up to the hype.

They did. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 🎃 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Eddie was grinning from ear to ear after their set, Halloween really was the best night of the year. He’d been a little hesitant, of course, to play to a crowd this big. With the resentment that had built in town for him and by extension the band because of their visible difference from the modern mainstream even before Vecna and the upside down and Chrissy Cunningham, an unlikely comrade in arms who stood firm at Eddie’s side throughout it all and maintained his innocence to anyone who thought otherwise. 

She’d come to see their show along with the rest of the Hawkins Monster Slayers or at least the ones old enough to be in a bar, or who’s fake ID looked convincing enough. She had flung herself at him after stepping off stage and exclaimed about how amazing the gig had been,,

“Eddie that was so cool!” She yelled over the noise of the crowd, “if you guys don’t get signed soon then clearly those big record labels don’t know a good thing when it rocks an entire bar like this!”

“You’re too kind Chris” Eddie laughed wrapping an arm around her middle, trying not to get her shirt wet with his own sweat

There were congratulations from the rest of the assembled group, Jonathan Byers offering to take 'professional' pictures of the band anytime they wanted for their first album cover. Steve Harrington offering his parents money to bankroll anything the band needed,

"They're assholes anyway, the money should go to a good cause" 

Cue Robin Buckley stating that she was the best cause and Steve should give her a thousand dollars so she could 'woo' the girl of her dreams. Nancy Wheeler adding that if the girl in question was only attracted to Robin for her money than she wasn't worth knowing.

Which somehow sparked a debate amongst the boys in the band and the others about what they'd do for money, or who they'd do for money. It was at this point Eddie snuck away for his post show smoke break/adrenaline crash panic attack.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 🎃 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

You were standing in the parking lot of the hideout shuffling from one foot to the other trying to get some heat into your body. The payphone inside the hideout hadn't been working so you'd had to walk a few blocks to a gas station to use theirs.

You'd hoped to be able to hang out in the gas station for your ride but were told in no uncertain terms if you were there for longer than it took to make your phone call that the store owner would involve the law. Something about the teens in this town not taking advantage of him again. 

You didn't get the time to tell the store owner you weren't from Hawkins before you were all but shoved back out into the cold. So you'd made your way back to the Hideout and commenced the 'keep warm' dance on the frigid October night. 

"Hey, are you ok?" a man's voice called, causing you to snap in the direction of the sound, hoping that you weren't about to be the latest victim of Hawkins' terrible luck. Instead you found yourself looking at one Eddie Munson with a cigarette in his hands, the smoke curling towards the street light above him.

"Oh, yeah, no I'm ok. Thanks" it wasn't that you believed the rumours but you still had no desire to be alone in a deserted parking lot with a strange man you didn't know. The statistics weren't great. 

"If you want to dance you should probably go back inside. Though if you've gotta use the restroom you're probably safer out here, I don't know about the girls room but the guys isn't exactly clean" Eddie laughed,

"I'm just waiting on my ride home" you told him, "they should be here soon" 

"You shouldn't be waiting out here on your own" he said coming closer, "especially not tonight, all the freaks and weirdos are out" 

"I'm fine really, I'm not gonna be here that long anyway" you repeated hoping he'd take the hint

"You're not from Hawkins are you?" Eddie asked with a laugh, "nobody from town would be out here on their own, I mean maybe if they were drunk or high enough" 

Eddie had gotten closer and you'd not realised that for every step he'd taken towards you you'd taken a step backwards, Eddie had noticed though. You could tell from his expression. Which made you feel like a massive asshole,

"No I'm from the next town over, Salem? I just came to the bar tonight for the show. You guys sounded great" you said, taking a step towards Eddie and hoping you didn't come across as a total dick, "it's so hard to hear new music in bumfuck nowhere you know?" 

"Oh yeah for sure, gotta be careful with all that devil's music around these days" Eddie joked crossing himself, "someone ought to think of the children" 

"Oh yes the children, they must be protected from y'know satan and stuff" you nodded seriously before the giggles took over, "oh my god I can't" 

"I'm Eddie" he offered his free hand that wasn't holding the cigarette and you shook it and gave him your name,

"I'm serious though you guys sounded really cool, do you have any demo tapes or anything?" 

"I mean not yet but I'm suddenly seriously considering it" he winked at you making you laugh again, "I mean a pretty girl tells you how cool she thinks your band is changes a lot" 

"I didn't say anything about cool" you teased, "but you're alright" 

Eddie clutched his chest with his free hand and stumbled backwards, groaning and making choking noises,

"I have been mortally wounded" 

"Oh no, whatever will the band do without you?" you asked, "however will they go on without someone so cool?" 

Eddie righted himself and pushed his hair out of his face, grinning broadly. The cigarette had fallen from his hand amongst his theatrics and lay burning softly on the ground, 

"Well would you look at that? I'm cured!" Eddie announced bounding back over to you before blowing some stray locks of hair out of his face, "sorry about that, my hair has a mind of its own and apparently wanted to be included in the conversation" 

You nodded before pulling the scrunchie out of your hair and offering it to him, 

"Well since this is a private conversation why don't you use this to keep the nosiness under control?" 

Eddie accepted the scrunchie gratefully and tied his hair up in a ponytail brandishing the ends with a flourish,

"I really think this is my colour don't you?" he asked shaking the ponytail around, "it's adding extra cool points to my rockstar image" 

You were about to reply when you saw your ride pull into the parking lot, you hadn't even noticed the time going by while you'd been talking, flirting, with Eddie,

"That's my ride so I gotta go but, I'm holding you to that Demo Tape" 

"Well if you're going to hold it over me, but how will I know where to bring the sacred item?" 

You grabbed a pen from your jacket pocket and scribbled your phone number on Eddie's hand, 

"You can call me when it's done. The scrunchie is collateral until then" 

“I guess i’ll see you then” 

“Count on it, Eddie” 

Eddie watched as you got in the car and drove away. He waited until you were out of sight before fist pumping the air, he couldn’t believe what just happened. Chrissy wasn’t going to believe it either when he told her. 

As a matter of fact Eddie immediately turned around and raced back to the stage door of the Hideout and kicked it open,

“Chris, holy fuck” this was too good not to share. 

He had a date. 

[thswrtchdthng]

heyyy hiiii i'm bothering you with my musics again :3

if you haven't already um. you should listen to the album prequelle by ghost. and think about lena kelley. and also the album infestissumam by ghost. ok that's all goodbye again <2

ok um. lots of thoughts

first of all this is her favourite band. or one of them. the sound is just so lena in my brain

see the light is so lena to her superiors. to me. (and maybe it's lena to gwen)

dance macabre. boukelley by the end of the story. do you see the vision?

witch image is so boukelley I'm dead

can't decide if life eternal is lena @ gwen or gwen @ lena

"unholy is the lust in your eyes, "blasphemous" would not suffice,

perverted are your wishes and dreams

tanning in lucifers' beams"

lena @ gwen. like that is just. them.

secular haze sounds. a lot like I imagine lena's relationship with her superiors to sound. for some reason

"up from the stinking dirt she rises

ghastly pale

shape-shifting soon but now she's rigid

stiff and stale"

that's just lena coming into work every evening

year zero sounds so much like the "managing the bad guys" talk to me

not just about lena but idolatrine feels like how the OIAR thinks about the powers. do you see?

"through scapes of murmur, noisy walls of sound

without a starlit night, shores nowhere to be found

on seas of wonder ye confused strays

without a guiding light you see no ways"

this is gonna be lena to her employees in a near future. trust me I'm a prophet

that cover but if you have ghosts is lena's favourite song. I just know it.

I'm a marionette. what can I say. she is. and she knows it. and she sobs to that song every night. like that's just her.

hmmm waiting for the night. 1st of all I need need need lena & gwen having a deep late night conversation. need it. 2nd of all that's lena's tiny feeble hopes that something will come save her. save them all. like she's perfectly aware of what's going on, and she's perfectly aware that they're all fucked, but there's a tiny little part of her that wishes there was something that could save them. or at least save her employees (she doesn't dare even think about her own salvation)

so yea. ghost fan lena kelley. that's it that is all.

[fantastickkay]

Album Review of the Week: Partridge Family - Up To Date (1971)

Up To Date is The Partridge Family's second album, highlighting tracks from season one of their TV show. The album peaked at number 3 on Billboard's Top 200, behind Janis Joplin's Pearl and Jesus Christ Superstar. Not bad company!

The cover art is very interesting! Super colorful and highlights the real life birthdays of each cast member. To this day, I always think of David Cassidy on April 12.

Unfortunately, the material doesn't quite live up to the standard that its success may project. This is not surprising since the material is tied to a TV show and the people at the face of the group are simply actors. Therefore, the lyrics and instrumentals are canned for easy consumption by the general public. I adore David Cassidy as a vocalist, but the difference between this album and his solo work is very clear - much more passion in the latter! He has even spoken out about the single Doesn't Somebody Want To Be Wanted. He absolutely loathed the spoken word bit in the middle and refused to record it for days until the Powers That Be finally talked him into it, and said much later that he is still completely embarrassed by the song.

Obviously, I cannot speak to how fresh this may have sounded in 1971 - but I can imagine that even then it was a little stale and by now it sounds very stale! The Partridge Family will come out with several more albums, a few very good! But Up To Date is not at the top of the ranking.

Standout tracks: I'll Meet You Halfway, I'm Here You're Here, Morning Rider On the Road, She'd Rather Have the Rain

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 10/02/2024

Noah Kahan’s “Stick Season” is still #1, it’s a short episode, you really probably should skip it - there's nothing of value discussed here... welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

This is not a good week. You could call it a stale week, it’s probably accurate, because there’s not much of interest and what is here is mostly utter garbage. Potentially, up there with the worst weeks ever in terms of new arrivals to the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, and speaking of what I cover, notable dropouts are songs exiting said top 75 after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40, and this week, we bid adieu to: “Skin and Bones” by David Kushner, “neé-nah” by 21 Savage, Travis Scott and Metro Boomin, “Practice” by Drake, “Pink Friday Girls” and “Everybody” featuring Lil Uzi Vert by Nicki Minaj and finally, “Paint the Town Red” by Doja Cat. One highlight of this dire week is that I’m not really complaining about any of that.

Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved” returns to #67, what a joy, as well as “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift at #62 and “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus at #51. Can’t help but think the GRAMMYs had some influence on these. As for notable gains, we see boosts for Taylor’s “Is it Over Now?” at #68, “MY EYES” by Travis Scott at #65, “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish at #58, “Would You (go to bed with me?)” by Campbell and Alcemist at #52, “Perfect (Exceeder)” by Mason vs. Princess Superstar at #39, “Runaway” by Ye featuring Pusha T at #35, seemingly because well, there may or may not be an album coming because that’s what we needed: more discourse. Then we have “Scared to Start” by Michael Marcagi at #31, “Selfish” by Justin Timberlake at #29 (why are we doing this?), “exes” by Tate McRae at #23, “Alibi” by Ella Henderson featuring Rudimental at #16 (Christ), and we end with two positives at least, as YG Marley and Benson Boone both get their first top 10s with pretty damn good songs, in my opinion: “Praise Jah in the Moonlight” at #9 and “Beautiful Things” at #5, which brings us to that top five, which is otherwise completely the same as last week. Jack Harlow’s at #4, Teddy Swims at #3, Sophie Ellis-Bextor at #2 and for a sixth week, Noah Kahan at #1. You know the song names off by heart by now, and I need some time to let off a deep sigh before rattling off the new songs. Oh, boy, the new songs.

New Entries

#75 - “Out for Love” - Andrew Underberg, Sam Haft and Daphne Rubin-Vega

Produced by Andrew Underberg and Sam Haft

So, Hazbin Hotel was a web pilot by Vivienne Medrano or “ViziePop” that was later picked up by Amazon as a television series this year. It is a musical animated series hence has several soundtrack singles, and given the weak charts and viral nature of the show, some of them have ended up here. I watched the pilot and first four episodes of the series, and found it genuinely quite difficult to stomach - I love adult animation, I love musicals, I actually even like the art style - it was the narrative elements of the show that killed it for me, and this is not a TV review blog, it’s a music review blog. I knew at least one song would debut as the midweek update showed one song at #73, I figured that would be the only song and it could potentially not even appear, so I wrote a very tersely-worded review for that song in particular. It’s a bit… not all that useful anymore, for lack of a better phrase. So I’m largely not going to be covering these. This is from the seventh episode, which I haven’t seen. Song doesn’t make any Goddamn sense to me. Journalism.

#74 - “Thank You (Not So Bad)” - Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike, Tiesto, Dido and W&W

Produced by Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike, Tiesto, W&W, Bassjackers and Renze Michels

Okay, if you’re going to credit a grand total of five EDM producers, why not go the full mile and have all eight pick out a lead? Also, I would ask how eight people were involved in producing this if I had any doubts that it wasn’t just an uncredited guy who got paid to sell this lazy sample flip off to people with actual star power. A sample flip of what, you may ask? Sigh… well, if there’s anything vaguely positive I can say about “Alibi” is that it’s influential. This is somehow even lazier, however, so I guess let’s start with some kind of history.

First of all, Dido’s “Thank You” is a perfectly fine, honest song that peaked at #3 in 2001 - “Do You Really Like It?” by DJ Pied Piper & the Masters of Ceremonies rightfully took #1 that week - and whilst I’ve never been a big fan, I can definitely see why the melancholy downtempo ballad resonates with people, and on a bad day, I can definitely throw this on and feel a little hope. This is a bad chart day, and if “Thank You” were to chart in its original form, it could perhaps be a reminder that things are, despite everything, it’s not so bad. So I imagine rap fans will know one of if not both of the uses of this song in popular hip hop, the first being Eminem’s classic “Stan”, probably my second favourite of his. It actually did #1 for one week in 2000, before the original had charted. It’s a stark and incredibly clever recontextualisation of the song that I’m pretty sure has already been discussed as much as possible, there’s a reason why many consider it Em’s crowning moment. Rae Sremmurd, “Lean’s Gone Cold”… maybe not so much. That one didn’t chart, but it’s funny.

Now there is precedent for house remixes of “Thank You”, and whilst I’m willing to consider interpretations and reimaginings of practically any song as any different style, I feel like making “Thank You” more danceable than just a vague nodding of the head skews some of the narrative’s tone? It definitely makes for a weirder, more dissonant listen, and whilst the Deep Dish remix, actually a GRAMMY Award-winning remix, does its best to maintain the atmosphere in its nine minutes, turning “not so bad” into a faint, looping mantra under a constantly developing house groove, to the point where it is a genuinely pretty great house song production wise… it still doesn’t feel like a great adaptation of “Thank You”, just a different product entirely, which makes sense and honestly makes for a better song. It doesn’t try and be “Thank You”, despite not even registering itself as an original song, just a remix of the original still credited solely to Dido. In 2016, European electro house duos Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike and W&W made a song called “Arcade”, it’s a loud, compressed smorgasboard of cheap synth sounds made for a live festival setting and being practically unlistenable outside of that context. In 2020, German producers Felix Jaehn and VIZE made a much more conventional and, at least in terms of how much it cribs from the original, a more faithful rendition of “Thank You”, subtitled “Not So Bad”. It’s a flavourless tropical house riff that I think the world would be better off not hearing, it’s like “Thank You” by Dido if she was commissioned to make it by an advertising company looking for a soundtrack to gym commercials.

Somewhere across the line, I guess it must have been Tiesto who said, “What if we made a version of that Felix Jaehn song but basically in the soundfont of “Arcade”?” - the latter even being directly listed as a sample on Genius. I mean, otherwise, I don’t know what the Hell Tiesto is doing here but, generally, you have to be shitting me, right? This is two minutes and 20 seconds constructed out of bits and pieces of songs I may not like but had a lot more purposeful artistic intent to them, if that’s a correct way of phrasing it. This is a vaguely functional crap-shoot molded from genuine song ideas, starting with a gentle singer-songwriter track that actually means a Hell of a lot to millions of people. I’d believe that to many fans, that Rae Sremmurd rendition means a lot to them. What does this mean to anybody?

#63 - “Bandit” - Don Toliver

Produced by ReidMD

I don’t like Don Toliver, really, or Tame Impala for that record, but there’s a level of inherent quality here, right? Don can sing, Tame Impala can construct a vibe and the sample here is “One More Hour” from their 2020 album The Slow Rush, it’s completely serviceable, could make for a good song. So why the sample is rendered in such low quality screeching is beyond me, but hey, maybe a powerful beat could work? Oh, the trap skitter is not only completely rote and overdone, it’s really high in the mix and distracts from the bass, which could really help make this song work? Okay, well, what’s Don doing? Being basically a cartoon character with his flows and incessant ad-libs? Well, that could be fun - oh, he’s comparing himself to Marilyn Manson? Barely rhyming? Catching a good, intense flow only to mumble repeated lines mostly about having sex that make up much of the song, with a tiny verse in the middle? Well, maybe the outro can make up for it - oh, he’s doing a Cookie Monster impression. Welp, all hope is lost.

#55 - “Poison” - Blake Roman, Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg

Produced by Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg

This is an upbeat synthpop jam that soundtracks a sex slavery montage. It sounds like a song by The Weeknd covered by a SpongeBob AI voice model. Next.

#53 - “Loser, Baby” - Andrew Underberg, Sam Haft, Keith David and Blake Roman

Produced by Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg

This was the song that made me turn the fourth episode off in disgust. I had a massive review prepared, covering its treatment of sexual abuse, which probably gave it a higher degree of nuance and generosity than many others are willing to give it, but I’m not compelled to rant about cartoons in this series. I want to write about animation more often but preferably animation I like or actually find compelling. With all respect to those who enjoy it and power to them, Hazbin Hotel was not something I would like to grant any more attention than the brief necessity of my format. Thanks for understanding.

#40 - “Home” - Good Neighbours

Produced by Good Scott and Oli Fox

I was very much willing to give this one a good shake because, I mean, what else do we have? Scott and Fox teased this on TikTok months prior before releasijng this as their official debut single together, after malformed, quickly aborted solo runs a few years ago. Sounds like a recipe for chart success and oh, the song’s terrible. It has a whistle about as charming as the American Authors’ milennial whoops, really insufferably screeching vocal tones that remind me of Passion Pit more than anything - that isn’t really a good thing - and sentimental lyrics about what home means to him, which would be completely serviceable without the stiff, grooveless splodge of grey matter that calls itself a chorus. Oh, and you know those sentimental lyrics? They’re gone by this point, it’s an incredibly manipulative breakup song with some really gross attempts at poetry - “wrap my name across your mouth when I let my feelings down”? Ew, man, Charlie Puth is less contrived than this. Naturally, the song goes nowhere and sadly, that probably won’t be its chart trajectory. Yet, once again, this song is practically unlistenable.

Conclusion

…Don Toliver gets Best of the Week. Somehow. Thanks for reading, I guess? See you next whenever.

[sociallyacceptablemadness]

Ten Random Lines Tag

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. 

Tagged by @eluvisen 😁 Technically I’m supposed to tag people but whatever.  These are all Fallout because I haven’t actually published any of my non-Fallout stuff.

1. Spaces Between (Nora/Nate, Nora/Hancock)

It’s not quite dawn when he hears her on the staircase outside. She’s light-footed even in safe spaces, but always forgets about the second-to-last stair, which squeaks obnoxiously under her step.

2. Touch (Nate/Curie)

He squeezed her closer, her small but sturdy frame melting against him. He hadn’t said it, but he knew what it was. That tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe, that felt like something trying to claw its way out from between his ribs -- he hadn’t felt it in months, not since that last morning with Nora.

3. With Friends Like These

“Son of a bitch,” Deacon seethed, standing out of his cover. Nora had tackled the tire iron-swinging raider, going for his knees and knocking him flat. Deacon knew from all the times she had tackled him as grenades and mines went off that she knew what she was doing, 125 pounds of solid muscle and redheaded fury, but it still made his stomach flop the way she engaged so up and close.

4. Faded Grace (Nora/Hancock)

“What are you doing up?”

He started, heart jumping into his throat.  Nora padded quietly across the rug, stifling a yawn.  She flopped onto the couch next to him and glanced at the album.

“That thing again?”

“Shaun left it out.”

She grimaced, leaning forward to study the pictures.  

“My favorite,” she said dully, and flipped the album closed. “Come on back to bed.”

5. Hanaemi (James/Sarah Lyons)

She’s walking again that night, circling around and around the wings of the Citadel, when she finds him back in that same supply closet.  It’s been almost a year since their first encounter there, and he startles her as much now as he did then.

“You really like this thing, huh?” she asks once her heart rate has had a moment to settle.  He shrugs in disinterest.

“It’s quiet,” he says.  His tone is flat and he’s looking at the floor, leaned forward on his knees, hands hanging limply.  She looks him over and sees there’s still soot from the explosions peppering his hair.

6. Melody (Nora/Hancock)

The music cut off abruptly to announce the hour, startling them both.  He jumped a little just as her leg buckled under her and she landed with a soft smack on the concrete floor.

“Shit,” she muttered, sitting back and rubbing one ankle.

“Ya’ alright, Sunshine?”

She looked up sharply and narrowed her eyes. “How long have you been there?”

7. Doing Alright (Nora/Hancock)

I did remember to ask him that one once – why me.  He said he liked covering my ass because it was a fine ass to look at.

Maybe he’s as clueless as I am.  Maybe it was just a profound case of fuck it and we got fucking lucky.

Again.

We seem to do that a lot.

8. Truth or Shot 

Nora rolled her eyes. “Open up the bourbon,” she instructed, “The game we’re going to play is called Truth or Shot.”

“I’m pretty shitty at one of those.  Guess which.”

“I know.  You’re going to practice telling the truth or get drunk enough to spill your secrets anyway.”

Deacon sighed. “Alright, I confess.  I ate the last box of Fancy Lads,” he said, “There, you got it out of me.”

9. Unfinished Business

George wasn't sure how much time passed before Hancock appeared by his post at the end of the tunnel, but it wasn’t long.  He didn’t say anything at first, leaning against the concrete wall and lighting a cigarette with a quick flick of his lighter.  The smell of stale smoke filled the space between them.

“The Shaun you’re expecting to see isn’t the one you remember,” he said finally, voice quiet in the darkness.  George looked over as the red tip of his cigarette illuminated the man’s face.

“What do you mean?”

10. World of Refreshment 

“Ma’am, would you like to take point?”

Nora looked up and squinted at Danse. 

“Huh?”

“At the bottling plant,” he clarified, “Hancock told me you wanted a fireteam to go in and help out.”

Nora peered around the man to where Hancock was waiting, leaned against a doorframe. “So he did,” she replied, glaring at her husband. “Yeah, I’ll take point.  Can you spot me?”

[londonandrewsandme]

Friday 2 February 2024

London Andrews : Patreon & OnlyFans

London Andrews : Patreon & OnlyFans

London Andrews was a pioneer of plus size model and an innovator in online modelling. She helped change how models create, control and market their work. Here’s a little background before we cover the war !

Patreon and OnlyFans are different. London opened her account on OnlyFans in 2019, it’s full on love making, masturbation and porn. Her Patreon account, which goes back to 2015, is more albums of artistic nudes, random glimpses of her home life, erotica and a monthly solo masturbation photo set. Patreon was updated monthly. Here OnlyFans would be updated 4 to 7 times a week. Sometimes brand new scenes, sometimes work she had created for Patreon in earlier years. And then later older OnlyFans work, recycled. She managed the OF account, limiting its content to around 200 items. Deleting older posts after a time so things didn’t get stale and them she could also allow her to reuse these items later. So, though this work was not new, they fresh. She would also show teasers from her monthly Patreon updates.

Sensible management of her account and content. She would also interact with her subscribers and care for her customers. This started to change, to fade in 2022 and became more pronounced as that year went on. She only updated her Patreon 7 or 8 times that year. I have no idea why?

Then in October 2022 something happened. She took a trip east to see family for a week and everything stopped ! She stopped updating updating all her accounts. Not just OF, but her Instagram accounts for London and even the sanctuary ones. No posts on her Tumblr account. She stopped managing the OF account. Just the odd older post recycled, nothing new until the start of 2023 (so I’m told). From posting 4 or more items per-week, it was 1 or 2 pre-month.

She only updated her Patreon twice at the start of 2023, instead of the routine monthly updates.

Things were going wrong long before she decided to go to war with me in July 2023.

#LondonAndrews #londonandrews #londonandrewsmodel #londonandrewsproject

[featherless-falling]

Extinction

1

There was a day no more missing posters were pinned to the old cork board and the morning commute was quiet. The purr of my car’s engine and the rushing wind dissipated as I slowed to a crawl and rolled the window down. What had happened? There had been no signs of struggle. The news had been normal. No wars or sickness. The ground didn’t just open up and swallow everyone and the sky was a beautiful shade of blue.

The time clock at work was the same as always and for the hell of it, I got my times perfect. Not a minute early or late like it usually was when other people were around. We had been behind. We were still behind, aside from the cleaning and all those little unpleasant tasks no one really wanted to do. There was nothing left but patience, watching clouds pass by at lunchtime. Over there, that sweet little restaurant everyone had always taken their lunch at was just visible. I’d always been to shy to stop in before, unsure of what my times would have been at the back of the line. What would I have ordered? I never bothered to find out.

There was no stopping me now, but for what? The cans and dry bags weren’t of interest to me yet and cooking and eating alone in an unfamiliar kitchen wasn’t enticing. So, I sat in my car eating cold rice and beans. Would the power fail? Would I see the gas run out and food become scarce? I was no farmer. I wasn’t much of anything anymore.

Harder to be anything on your own.

Mama had always said I’d been too eager to please. Maybe she was right. When I clocked out, I whispered to myself, “Good job today kid.” before driving home, just faster than a walking pace. Hoping day after day to find some fragile, disoriented soul on the road before I made the turn into my apartment. I collapsed on the floor most days now, laying there for what felt like hours before getting up into a crawl, never doing much of anything except desperately surviving.

Books laid unread and pens began drying. I had kept a journal for a bit before I began having nightmares and made a fire inside a large can in the parking lot, tearing the pages and covers to fit. The mark of it was still there. Fresh as the day I’d made it. I couldn’t remember how what had passed since then. Seasons? Moons? Mere hours?

My hours shortened. Work was letting up.

I went on vacation!

I stopped going. . . .

I never would have been able to eat all the food in the grocery stores. It was so vile, walking past the mountains of mold in the stale air and crumbling walls trying to get a few more cans. A box. Another bag. Maybe someone would come to dinner tonight.

I realized I hadn’t heard the birds in ages. Hadn’t seen a fly in years.

I went home. Home! Home! I went home. To my home. To the home I had grown up in. None of it mattered. There was nothing there. Not even the ghosts. I shot my plans of burning every memory away, it had already been done. We had a photo album, been in the family for generations. My own face was blurry in every picture and I didn’t recognize anyone else.

I passed a mirror the next day.

Decades later.

I knew what I had to do, the vision coming in the midday sun one Summer. Dead leaves and branches rustled overhead. I needed a quiet spot and I knew just the place, walking along in a dream. . . .

2

A young girl in a sundress of delicate, faded colors and bare feet drifted by in a shopping cart. Her knees held to her chest and a curve to her face like in those last moments, she’d been happy. Like someone she loved had pushed her down the hill to the edge of town. Cars had been abandoned, buildings broken into and food raided. There were bodies everywhere. A number were like roadkill, but many were found slumped over counters, machinery, and desks. Some were hiding. The trees were quickly labeled as a hazard as rotting bodies were prone to slide from their precarious perches. By the brook, in one of the deepest ditches, was a pile of bodies taller than three of our best men. They had held hands and curled against one another. It was strangely organized in this clearing where the sun dipped away from the world and the brook ran a muddy brown that wasn’t present a little farther upstream.

The journals and newspaper clippings didn’t give any answers. Disorientation cutting everything off entirely.

We set up wire fences and wrote out a shaky sign- I’d never been much good at penmanship- on a piece of plywood before leaving the area, calling for help on all channels. One of the men hadn’t signed his report and asked for the date. Usually I wasn’t one for tattling over slight misses in protocol. We were a tight-knit crew who worked well enough without that sort of garbage, but I thanked the man profusely this time. They understood why. This was serious. We didn’t know what happened.

We all attended a funeral before the month’s end.

Life was cruel and none of the men cried. Why was no one crying?

I looked around and let out a cough.

[rozinaaa]

A Lesser Known Fact About My Creative Practice

I'm typically a visual artist and designer, as well as a bit of a critic about things, which usually informs my entire practice, but I've also made some music as well, mainly outside of any context, so this is more of a hobby, although I would like to include it into my wider multidisciplinary practice.

My musical project: The Loud Machine With No Off Button (stylised in all caps, and slowly making its way onto larger streaming platforms) is an experimental and genre-defying project which is based off a poem I wrote (of the same name) roughly in 2018, in which I described my state of mind in the most abstract way imaginable, and a state of mind which still rings true today as it did when I first penned it, roughly at the age of 17.

The musical aspect of this first started in November 2020, mainly out of boredom, which eventually lead to curiousity, about how this poem would "sound" if I decided to make music based off that one confusing poem.

At the time, it was lockdown, and I was stuck attending online classes in a student accommodation, which meant that I was constantly on my own, as I was forcing myself to essentially become a production-level software developer in a ridiculously short amount of time (which was unrealistic, but I had some really ambitious ideas that still haven't been fully realised), not to mention that creating visual art in its own right was interesting, but slowly started to become stale, so I needed another creative outlet that didn't revolve around visual art, software development, or writing, and my social media use at the time was insanely high, so I didn't want to spend even more time on there, since it was already boring and overstimulating enough as it was.

Enter music production, where it was really just me playing around on Garageband on my iPhone to see what I could come up with, as well as being able to escape everything else, which meant that this was essentially a form of productive escapism, although creating my own music was also inspired by two of my flatmates (one of them was good at singing, and the other had an acoustic guitar, yet they both studied something along the lines of Sociology and Psychology, so creating music was also a hobby for them), so this might have also influenced my decision to also become a somewhat amateur musician.

I decided to record a few songs, mainly to see how they would sound, and they seemed pretty decent (even if I do say so myself), but after I recorded them, I just let them sit around for months, so that they could "marinate", although this was probably because I had simply forgotten about them.

Fast forward to September 2021 (shortly after I started my placement year), where I rediscover the songs that I'd made, and decide that I want to make an album out of it (and I've realised that a lot of people tend to release their albums when they're in their 20s, although this might be biased, since the music I typically listen to revolves around people being in their 20s), which lead me to design an album cover (although I had to edit it for the larger platforms, but the one on Bandcamp is the original album cover), and create some UI Designs (based on old operating systems, where I included all of these designs for this project in my portfolio, which might have helped me in landing my current job), since I wanted to create a whole theme around the project as well.

I released the self-titled album on 22nd October 2021 (initially on Bandcamp, although I'm now trying to put it on other platforms, so that it's more accessible to a wider audience), and it's so indie that only a few people (as far as I know) have listened to it, because to be honest, I'd be absolutely terrified if people from real life found out about this.

The whole music project is inspired by house/dance music, which is fitting, not only because I usually enjoy that type of music (although it sometimes becomes so overwhelming that I have to take a break from it every now and then), but because it also matches the overall theme of the original poem, which is to make sounds so confusing and overwhelming that it becomes jarring and borderline unlistenable, which is essentially the whole point of this music project.

In the future, I want to create more music (ideally based on the themes that I've explored previously, where I combine my critical side with my love of house/dance music for this project), but I don't want to rely on Garageband all the time, since I'm fairly limited with what I can do with it, and I'll run the risk of creating music which will sound the same.

I currently don't have access to any professional music production equipment or studio space (but I do know someone from my job who studies Music Production and works as a Front End Developer, and I did know someone from my placement year who also studied Music, so they could potentially give me some pointers about creating music), so apart from knowing people who work in that area (who will invariably know more about it than me, just as I know more about visual arts and design), I also want to take up livecoding, where I code and create music at the exact same time, not to mention that this seems like the most accessible option for me, since I don't have the space to have any equipment, and also because livecoding seems really fitting and "on brand" for the project (not to mention that it's also a form of creative coding, so that's a win), which will potentially offer me a lot of creative freedom in what I can do, as opposed to just using Garageband and calling it a day.

The reason I call this a project is because I'm not primarily a musician, I don't really identify as musician, and I'm the only one that's currently working on this (although I'm tempted to form a band with some of the guys (that I get along with) from work, but that's more of a pipe dream), so it doesn't really make sense to call it a band if it's just me doing everything, not to mention that I initially came up with ideas, so calling it a project definitely makes sense in this context.

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

What do you think about the Mood Concept photo?

I love that it's simple, and black and white is usually boring for a lot of people, but there are such powerful details in the photo that make it beautiful and interesting.

I think a lot of what Jimin does is different because of the details. A statement piece in his outfit, a hand or finger pointing a certain way, a "JIMIN" sign on s solid pink background. A lot of what he does is not exactly grandiose or over the top, but it usually ends up feeling that way because it's well executed and because it has meaning. In my opinion, meaning really makes all the difference.

The photo makes me think of old things. Something that's been collecting dust, that's stale and kept away. The initial feeling was that Jimin is moving away from that "home", but at times I also got the idea that he was visiting an old place. Even if I'm not a fan of black and white (imo it's difficult to get it right), I'm a fan of the chiaroscuro technique in painting and that was the first thing I thought of when I saw the photo. It's almost as if whatever he's leaving behind is supposed to stay there, covered, in the dark. I like that I can look at the chairs and the dark wall on his side and get the feeling of loneliness but when I take my eyes to that bit of light it really lightens the mood.

I'm interested to know if it will all come together nicely and there will be an actually stablished meaning and concept to the whole album. I used to think BTS had good intentions but poor development and their concepts and metaphors and whatnot always ended up being half-assed. I also think that I'll be content with more of this through the concept pics, I'm okay if they're not crazy good as long as there are details like the ones in the mood photo, such as the beautifully draped sheets, the play with light, his pretty pose.

[lakeshor]

Steve going back to Reefer Rick’s after vol. 2 to get Eddie’s car because Wayne’s truck got swallowed up by the gate and just being… fascinated by what he finds.

The front seats are the only ones left in the van, the rest of it getting gutted—Steve assumes—to make room for Eddie’s guitar equipment. But the rest of the van is full of signs of life.

There’s a pile of blankets and pillows in the back that look very well-used, like Eddie used to sleep back here a lot. There’s multiple changes of clothes, too, all Eddie’s. So no late night backseat guests, Steve assumes. (Or at least not any who don’t already dress like Eddie)

Empty chip bags and candy wrappers are shoved into every available cup holder and door well, along with receipts from places around Hawkins and a couple from roadside stops on the route to Indianapolis. Multiple are from Thatcher tire, for car parts Steve didn’t even know existed, some are from Melvalds, for cigarettes and junk food, others are from Family Mart for more of the same. Deep in the seatback pocket he finds one from a shop Steve recognizes from Starcourt, the Orange Julius across the food court from Scoops Ahoy.

There’s a half-drunk six pack nestled in the blanket pile, empty bottles clanking together at Steve’s feet as he crouch/crawls over to the front seats.

There’s a full-to-bursting shoebox of cassettes shoved behind the passenger seat, the covers of which are variations on a theme: blood, fire, naked women, jagged symbols around illegible fonts and band names even Steve can tell are grossly misspelled. He finds a purple and green Black Sabbath tape and pockets it for no reason.

The glove box is surprisingly sparse. Vehicle registration, not expired, insurance, still valid, a thick plastic keycard embossed with the Hawkins Packaging plant logo, and an unopened pack of Lucky Strikes. Steve vaguely remembers thinking Eddie smoked Camels.

Steve sees a tape still loaded in the deck and pops it out out of curiosity—it’s Queen. Steve owns this album. It’s sitting on his turntable at home, needle queued to the familiar groove where ‘Need Your Loving Tonight’ becomes ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love.’ Steve feels his eyebrows move up to his hairline and a quiet laugh escapes him in the silent car. Eddie fucking Munson listens to Queen.

Steve replaces the tape and settles into the driver’s seat. Eddie’s windshield is cracked, the thin fissure starting somewhere near the left windshield wiper and arcing across to the passenger side roof. Just annoying enough to notice but not distracting enough to do anything about.

Steve buckles his seatbelt and fishes Wayne’s spare key out of his pocket. The belt buckle is grimy, the steering wheel has obvious dark patches where anxious hands have sat gripping the leather, and the roof near the window is stained a deep yellow from cigarette smoke. The whole van has a stale sort of smell to it, like skunky weed and liquor soaked, sun-warmed upholstery. Objectively, it’s disgusting. Steve should be grossed out.

Instead, he feels something like grief wash over him, in this van so full of Eddie, in this world so devoid of him.

[lothirielswandc]

I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM (Starring John Constantine's Impeccable Parenting skills)

*This is a one-shot special for 3k views; it can be read regardless of where you are in the story*

— TWO YEARS AGO —

— LONDON —

“This is so stupid.”

“Oi! I’m not enjoying myself, either. I could be doing a lot more interesting things on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Yeah, I’m sure liver failure is a big commitment.”

“Okay,” Zatanna scooted forward, leaning between Raven and Constantine from the back seat. Raven’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel. When she glanced in the rearview mirror, she saw Etrigan calmly lick his thumb and turn the page on his copy of People Magazine.

“You’re a bloody seventeen year-old. How do you not know how to drive?” Constantine complained, turning in shotgun to give Raven a judgemental look.

She gritted her teeth. She did not like being in such close confines with him. His comments were getting on her nerves. And he smelled. The sharp aroma of liquor mixed with stale vomit. “I’ve been busy.”

“Like you’re one to judge, John.” Zatanna quipped, shifting to keep her uncomfortable position. “You’re terrible behind the wheel. How did you even get a license?”

“When most sods my age were reenacting the end of Thelma and Louise, I was mastering the dark arts.”

“Mastering is generous. Oh, Katy Perry’s new album is venerous,” Etrigan flipped to another page.

“Alright—we’re off topic, I don't want to be parked here all day. Set the knob to drive and let’s shove off.” Constantine grumbled.

Raven did as she was told and pulled on the “knob.” When it was level with the drive setting, the car started to inch forward in the empty parking lot.

“You’re doing great, sweetie. Let’s go over some basic driving rules first—” Zatanna offered.

Constantine dismissed her with a hand. “Blah blah blah, just ignore her. Here’s what you need to know: green means go. Yellow means go faster. Red means go when the coppers aren't looking.”

“Yeah, most of what you said is illegal,” Raven rolled her eyes. In the process, her gaze was drawn to the dashboard, “Can we turn the music on?”

“Yes.”

“No!”

Zatanna and Constantine exchanged a glare.

“She needs to focus. She’s not used to this,” Zatanna remarked.

“Any situation is improved with Led Zeppelin, Zee,” Constantine gestured at the slowly-inching car, “and this one is in dire need of some improvement. Roth, go to the stop sign. It’s time to release you into the population—and there’s a gas pedal there for a reason. Step on it.”

Raven tapped the other pedal with her foot. The car lurched forward and the stop sign blurred past as they met oncoming traffic.

“WOAH—!” Zatanna leaned over and straightened the wheel. Constantine’s face was squished up against the window. Etrigan barely glanced up from his magazine.

“I never gave Chaz enough credit for raising a daughter,” Constantine yanked himself off the glass surface, rubbing his face. “Bloody hell.”

Raven hardly caught his words. She was too busy trying to figure out the maze of roads before her. Everything was backwards: Londoners drove on the left, opposing every American street she’d been exposed to for the past few years. She hunched down, squinting, trying to stay in between the lines. Raven’s foot cried out in protest of being set at such an odd angle for a long period of time.

“You’re not even on the road—you’re in the other lane, you have to level yourself!” Constantine gripped the dashboard in front of him.

“I’m trying—stop yelling at me!” Raven snapped at him.

“Should’ve let Boston join us. He’s dead; he can't die in a car accident. He’s immune,” Constantine covered his eyes.

Something red filled the rearview mirror. “Here’s Boston—oh, fuck.”

“Shit—shit!” The car swerved. Raven winced as horns blared around her. She sank down lower in her seat.

“Boston!” Zee swatted the air that depicted the ex-trapeze artist’s spectral form. “Bad timing! We’re busy!”

“What? Etrigan texted and said you were getting ice cream.” Boston Brand settled into the empty seat behind Constantine, floating in the unoccupied space.

“You can't even eat it.” Zatanna pointed out.

“Don't rub it in! I don’t go for the food: I love scaring the kids that work at Dairy Queen by turning the machines on and off.”

Raven shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road. “I should’ve never returned to society. I should’ve stayed in Themyscira—no, I should’ve sailed to an empty island and lived out the rest of my life with a coconut named Wilson.”

“Don't steal my plan B,” Warned Constantine.

Boston’s form went through Constantine’s chair, his face hovering before the infamous Hellblazer. “You don’t look so good, Johnny. ‘Ey, kiddo, maybe you should stop by a bathroom.”

“Don’t bother. I went on that last turn.”

“Ew.” Boston shuddered and melted into the backseat. Raven chewed on her bottom lip as a traffic light appeared ahead.

“We’re turning right,” Zee instructed her.

“If you run over pedestrians, you get bonus points!”

“Boston, I will banish you to hell, so help me...”

Raven turned on the blinker and the car started to slow. She heard someone uncap a marker and scribble across parchment.

Raven’s eyes slid towards Constantine’s seat. “Are you drawing a pentagram right now?”

“It’s a sign. ‘Says impaired driver. Boston, take this and tape it to the back of the car. Give the wankers some warning.”

“Uh, this says insane driver, not impaired—”

“Shh! Just do it!”

The car steadily approached the crosswalk. Raven looked up and down the street for anyone walking, hopefully not future victims.

“Is that...Nanaue?”

The massive shark was hurrying across the road with his laptop; he was attending MIT online in order to spend more time with John. Apparently, the half-man, half-shark hybrid was an excellent tech wiz.

“Do not hit my boyfriend,” Constantine ordered.

“I'm not—although, for the record, I do not enjoy listening to you hook up with a shark every night.” Raven involuntarily shuddered, shoving away flashbacks of certain thuds late at night that reverberated throughout the House of Mystery.

“Agreed,” Boston nodded along with her. “Thank god for the vinyl records—that Marina lady’s a saint. What is she, Welsh?”

“And Greek.”

“Wow. A literal Greek goddess. Can we listen to her right now?”

“NO!”

The stop light turned yellow.

“Speed up, Raven. This light takes forever,” Zatanna replied.

“Slow down,” Constantine countered. “Do not hit Nanaue. That tall pile of earth-defying genetics is my one source of happiness.”

“High talk from the guy who just said ‘yellow’ means speed up,” Zatanna rolled her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Raven, step on it. We have places to be.”

“Why the rush, Zee? Is there a specific reason you don't want to see him—? You will stop at that crosswalk, young lady!”

“John, don't be an ass. This has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with me wanting ice cream before Boston terrifies the villagers!”

Raven had enough. She shouted over the chaos, “WILL BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP? CALM DOWN RIGHT NOW OR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND AND NO ONE’S GETTING ICE CREAM!”

Raven turned her attention back to the road. A tower of silver with a glimmering sheen rose before her. In a hoodie with khakis.

Raven slammed on the breaks. Constantine face-planted against the windshield. Zatanna yelped as her seatbelt tugged her back against the tan leather seats. Boston went flying forward, floating past the outside of the car.

When the car fully stopped, Raven shut her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. She opened them, and a massive shark (with all limbs attached) waved at them from the front of the car.

Constantine pulled his face away from the glass (again) and turned to her, “No casualties. A broken nose. An intact boyfriend. Not bad, Roth.”

Boston floated back to the car, scowling, “Uh, I’d like to revisit the ‘no casualties’ part!”

Etrigan finally looked up from his copy of People Magazine, “Are we there yet? Why is Constantine covered in sweat?”

“Because parenting bloody sucks, that's why!”

[thisaintascenereviews]

Counterparts - A Eulogy For Those Still Here Canadian metalcore / hardcore punk band Counterparts is a really interesting band, because I’ve got some mixed feelings. That’s not the first time I’ve said that about a band or artist, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel about the new Counterparts record, A Eulogy For Those Still Here. I really enjoyed their last LP, 2019′s Nothing Left To Love, but you could tell that the band was kind of running out of steam. Not that their lyrics, vocals, or anything like that was getting stale, but their sound was just becoming rather repetitive and generic. To be fair, Counterparts has always been super generic, but they’re one of those bands that has been able to be a cut above the rest, thanks due in part to their sound being executed incredibly tightly and vocalist Brendan Murphy being one of the best lyricists and vocalists in the scene. Hell, they’re one of the major players of the metalcore revival of the last few years, especially with that record having more of an early 00s metalcore feel than their previous material (which fell more on the melodic hardcore spectrum, but they had that metalcore crossover sound), but I won’t pretend they’re anything unique. They don’t add anything unique to the genre, other than their vocals and lyrics.

I actually listened to Nothing Left To Love a few weeks ago before Eulogy came out, and I don’t know if it’s aged extremely well. Not because the lyrics are bad, or out of touch, but I remember loving it when it came out towards the end of 2019, but it doesn’t do much for me now. It’s got some good breakdowns, and the lyrics are extremely powerful and poignant, made even more so with Murphy’s vocal performance, but it’s such a generic album. That’s what I was worried about with Eulogy, and why I have mixed feelings on this band, because as much as I love their vocalist and their lyrics, their sound is just really tired and bland at this point. It’s good, make no mistake, but after 15 years, they haven’t done much differently. Their sound is executed rather well, and it’s competent, but they just don’t do as much for me now as they did a few years ago. There are a lot of better bands in the metalcore sphere that are doing unique things, especially bands that take that early 00s sound and make something more unique with it, so I wasn’t sure what Eulogy was going to do. Unfortunately, not very much, because I don’t really care for this album. Here’s the thing, folks -- it’s good, and if you love this band, you’ll love this album, but because it’s more of the same. The cover art is really cool, and the lyrics are very good, but it sounds like outtakes and B-sides from the last album. Maybe it is a companion piece, which is cool if it is, but it just sounds like what they’ve been doing. There’s nothing wrong with that, as I’ve talked about bands having an “X-factor” in another review, and sometimes that factor can just be the band performing an established sound very well, but when it doesn’t work all the way for me, I’m just not invested. It could also be due in part to the last couple of weeks being very huge in terms of new releases, namely the new Slipknot and Lamb Of God albums dropped (both of which I really enjoy), and I just haven’t listened to the album much, but this album just didn’t leave much of an impression with me. I might listen to it more, and maybe it’ll grow on me, but I’ve listened to it a few times, and while I like it, I don’t really love it. It’s a good metalcore record, but they don’t have anything that makes me want to keep coming back to it, especially when better metalcore albums have come out this year (some of which are also rather generic, just more interesting). If you’re curious, or you really enjoy this band, I’d still recommend it, but I just didn’t get much of out of this album, which is a shame, because this band is really good, I just wish they’d step out of their comfort zone a bit.

[noladyme]

You and Me makes Three - Part 1

Lyla moved to San Fransisco for work, and for a fresh start. The standoffish guy across the hall of her sublet peaks her interest in more ways than one; and when he finally opens up, she jumps at the chance to get to know him; and whatever it is his dark secret is.

Eddie Brock x OC Lyla

TW: smut and fluff

1.

I’d found the sublet on craigslist; which I came to regret, when meeting the current tenant. Ziggy – as the guy called himself – turned out to be a long haired ultra-deuche; who’d spent most of our first meeting looking down my top, and talking about his upcoming tour of Illinois, with his band; Dirty Riders. I’d had my share of adventures with guys in bands; but in Ziggy’s case, I could literally smell the perfume from the chick he’d probably banged the night before.

After spending 20 minutes trying to distract me from the task at hand; I finally got him back on track, and we’d come to an agreement on the rent for the 3 months I’d be using his place. It was steep, but after having landed the job at a private school – and having been asked to start the week after – I needed a home; if only temporarily, while I looked for something else.

With most of my stuff in storage; all I had with me the day I was supposed to move in, was a couple of suitcases; and three boxes of essentials – like my books, pens and notes. And of course, my computer – my lifeline.

The neighborhood wasn’t the greatest; so, when I realized the door phone wasn’t working, and the Zigster wasn’t answering his cell, I was lightly panicking. I was standing alone on a street in a new city; with my most valued belongings, and no way to get out of there; as the cab that had brought me, took off as soon as the driver got my last box out of the trunk.

I kept calling Ziggy, and pounding the button for the apartment; but nothing came of it. I sat down on the doorstep, and was just about ready to cry; when a guy in his 30’s, wearing a casual leather jacket, walked up to the door with a key. “Excuse me”, he muttered, pulling out his keys. I looked up at him. It was hard making out his eye-color – blues, greens and browns meshed together to make a color all of its own. I found myself caught up in trying to distinguish the different shades in them; when I realized that he was about to unlock the door, and walk in.

“Hey”, I said. “Do you live here?”. He sent me a friendly but reserved smile; making me also notice his full lips; and the way his front teeth were just a little bit crooked – just enough to make him look interesting. “Yeah”, he said. “I do… Can I help you?”. I let out a relieved smile. “I live here too”, I said. “Or, I’m supposed to… I’m subletting from Ziggy”. He raised his brows. “You’re a friend of Ziggys?”. “Not exactly”, I scoffed. “He’s leaving town for a few months, and is letting me use his place… but the door-phone isn’t working, and he isn’t picking up his cell”.

The man seemed to be having an internal dialogue, before coming to a conclusion. “Yeah. Ok… come on in”. “Thank you!”, I smiled; almost crying in relief. I picked up my suitcases, as he unlocked the door, and carried them inside; after which I got the first two boxes – the man holding the door for me. I thought I heard him mutter “Fine!” under his breath, before he stepped outside, grabbing the last box for me. “Oh crap! Careful, that’s heavy”, I managed to say; before he groaned from the weight of the many books, I’d stored in it. “Shit, no kidding”, he grunted.

He put the box down just inside the door. “Do you need help up the stairs?”, he asked; obviously hoping for me to say no. I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks!”, I said. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him my name. “I’m Eddie”, he answered. “I guess we’re neighbors. I live across the hall from Ziggy”. “Thanks for the help, Eddie”, I grinned. “I’m Lyla… by the way”. “Nice to meet you”, he muttered. He walked up the stairs, sending me an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

Five trips up and down the stairs later; I finally had all my things outside Ziggys door. I tried calling him again; and heard a phone ring behind the door. You’ve got to be kidding me! I banged the door. “Ziggy! I’m here”, I yelled. “Open up, you dick”, I added, below my breath. I looked behind me, at what was apparently Eddies door; and saw something move behind the peephole.

I banged the door again. “Ziggy?”. Someone coughed and moved around some stuff behind the door; and Ziggy finally opened; looking at me with a seriously hungover expression. “Fuck. What’s today?”, he rasped. “Wednesday”, I said exasperatedly. His eyes widened. “Shit, beautiful. I’m so sorry!”, he said smilingly. “Come one in!”. “My name is Lyla”, I reminded him, and stepped in behind him. “Lyla-licious”, Ziggy sniggered; making me want to barf violently.

The studio apartment was, if possible, worse than I had imagined. A heavy smell of incense, weed and stale beer hung over the room; and a collection of bongs shaped like female torsos sat on a shelf. Ziggy had decorated the wall over his bed with posters of his own band.

Ziggy scrambled to get his things together. Apparently, he’d not packed up his things for the upcoming tour of steakhouses, coffeeshops and dive-bars throughout Illinois. “Let me just get this…”, he smirked at me; before rubbing himself as close as possible to me to get to a pack of xxl-condoms on a shelf in the kitchen area. “You know, if you need it, you’re welcome to hang around after I get back”. “I’m gonna be pretty focused on getting something permanent set up”, I smiled; swallowing bile. “Absolutely, yeah. That’s so cool”, he said; leaning against the counter I was standing by. “Just let me know, ok?”. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Sure…”, I said, and stepped back; going to check out the rest of the space.

It was one room – combined livingspace/bedroom/kitchen. A small bathroom with – thank God! – a bathtub; which was going to need some serious cleaning before I’d even put a foot in it. But it was mine… at least for the next three months. It’s not a lot, I thought to myself. But I can work with this.

Ziggy seemed to have his stuff packed up; and was standing in the doorway to the small bathroom; blocking my exit. He had a guitarcase casually hanging from one shoulder. “So… I’m ready to go”, he smirked. I nodded and half smiled. “Keys?”, I said. “Right. Here…”. He handed me a set of keys “If I get any mail…”. “I’ll let you know; once a week, like we agreed”. “Yeah”, he smirked and nodded; looking me over like I was edible. “So, I’ll call you?”. I swallowed bile again. “Yup”, I said, and reached out my hand to shake his. He took it; and held on to it; letting his thumb stroke my fingers. I will tear off your arm if you don’t let go, I thought to myself.

“Take care, Lyla”, he said; and winked at me; before finally moving away from the doorframe; and grabbing his bags to leave. “Shit, I forgot. The guy across the hall… he’s kind a of weird. Be careful, ok?”. “Sure…”, I muttered, and walked after him to the door, closing it behind him. I let out an audible sigh of relief, and put on the door chain.

---

I opened the windows, and got to cleaning. An old ashtray shaped like an avocado, turned out to be an actual shell of an avocado; and for the third time that day, I almost vomited. Riffling through some old dusty cd’s of Ziggys, I found a Fleetwood Mac album. “Yes!”, I cried out. At least you have that going for you, Ziggy, I thought – until I realized he’d never unwrapped the cellophane around the cover. I unwrapped it myself, put on the album; and skipped to my favorite song; singing along to the lyrics. “… well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older…”.

Someone knocked on the door. For a second, I was afraid Ziggy had changed his mind about touring, and had come back. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on. Outside stood Eddie. “Hi”, I said cautiously. He seemed warmer. “Hey. I think you dropped this in the hallway”. He was holding one of my notebooks. I unlatched the chain, and opened the door fully, taking the book from him. “Weird”, I said. “I could swear I’d packed it in the bottom of one of the boxes”. Eddie smiled nervously. “Well… maybe it jumped out”, he said. “Maybe”, I chuckled. “Thanks”.

He lingered. “The music…”, he said. “I’m sorry. Is it too loud?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine”, he said. “Just different than what usually comes out of this apartment”. I laughed. “Yeah… The Zigster seems to have a very specific taste”. “Yeah?”, Eddie smiled. “You should see his collection”, I said. He nodded and smiled crookedly. “Maybe… sometime”.

I noticed the door to his apartment was open. It seemed like the mirror opposite of mine. Just less disgusting. I met Eddies eyes. I still couldn’t figure out the color of them – all I could conclude was that they were… kind. I would have lost myself in them, if he hadn’t turned to walk back into his own place. “Uhm, Eddie?”, I said. He looked at me again. “Could you point me in the direction of a good… grocery store?”. Idiot… He scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean… I do most my shopping at Mrs. Chens, down the street”, he said. “Just don’t tell her you know me. She’ll try to sell you meditation tapes and scented candles”. I laughed. “A scented candle wouldn’t hurt this place”, I said. “Ziggy left behind some pretty gnarly smells”. He laughed. “He’s a… special guy”. Our eyes met again for a moment. Eddie seemed to want to say something else, but then his eyes moved, as if he was listening to something. “I gotta go”, he said; and went into his apartment, closing the door. He's strange, I thought. But something inside me wanted to figure him out.

---

The next few days went by without much happening. I finally finished cleaning my new living-space – except for the mattress. I couldn’t get myself to sleep on it, after I’d taken of the old bedding left behind by Ziggy; and finding quite a few stains I didn’t even want to touch with rubber-gloves – so I’d slept on the couch so far.

Once, I’d run in to Eddie by the mail slots; exchanging a friendly helloand a smile. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the door, carrying a messenger-bag and a motorcycle helmet. I noticed him opening his own slot. It had E. Brock, written with bold letters on it. Watching him walk away down the hall to the door; I couldn’t help but bite my lip and smile. He moved like he was late for something; but at the same time didn’t want anyone to tell him when he was supposed to get there. Like some kind of internal struggle, I just wanted to unwrap and explore.

Saturday morning, I woke up early for once, craving coffee and carbs. I had neither of those things in the kitchen; so, I got dressed in my favorite jeans and a light, loose t-shirt, to head out and track something down. As I was still new to San Francisco, I wasn’t sure about how the weather would be in October. I brought my short leather jacket. Just in case. I put a notebook and a pen in my shoulder-bag, and was off.

Outside the building I grabbed a free paper to have something to read. I took a streetcar towards the Mission District; enjoying the sunshine and smells from food carts we passed. Hunger was about to take me over; and I opened my paper, to distract myself. The headlines were mostly fluff stories and ads; except for a couple on the murder of a local politician, and animal attacks by the harbor. Some drug dealers had been found with their heads bitten clean off. I winced at the thought; before turning the page, and a new header caught my eye.

Home robberies in Downtown Oakland – Gangs or criminals on city payroll? - Story by Eddie Brock.

I was surprised for a second. He didn’t strike me as a journalist in the traditional sense.

The story was mostly an opinion piece, but was based heavily on facts he’d dug up from interviews with victims, and homeless youth in the area of the robberies. Eddie was questioning the arrests made on young gang members for the crimes; and in stead suggesting that city-leadership was paying crime syndicates to commit the robberies, to be able to gentrify the area. If he was right; this was a big story; so, I was finding it strange to see the story in a free newspaper.

I arrived near Mission Dolores Park; having read about a nice, upmarket coffee shop there; with donuts that the blogger had written were to absolutely die for. They turned out to be less so. After standing in line for 30 minutes; I was handed a stale cup of organically sourced, fairtrade coffee; and a donut that was hard enough to break a window. Stepping outside the shop; I decided to give it a chance; and bit in to it – instantly almost choking on the floury consistency of the pastry.

“They’re not very good, are they…”. I turned to face Eddie; standing with an amused smile on his face. “Nope”, I answered, and spat out the donut-bite into a napkin. “Sorry…”, I said embarrassedly. “No worries”, he chuckled. “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have told you. They’re vegan…”. I raised my brows at him. “Shit, sorry! Are you vegan?”, he asked. “No”, I shook my head and chuckled. “But I’ve for sure had better vegan food than this”. He sighed and seemed to ponder something. “Come on”, he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a narrow street; passing smaller shops and street vendors – some of which seemed to know Eddie, and sent him friendly nods. “You’re popular around here”, I said; walking next to him. He chuckled in response. “I dunno. I prefer buying from smaller shops. Personal touch, you know?”. “I get it”, I said. “Locally sourced, and eco-friendly; right?”. He shrugged. “Something like that”.

He stopped by a small storefront; displaying pride-flags and caricatures of politicians in the window. I knew already that I would like this place. The man behind the counters face lit up. “Yo, Ed! Back so soon, man?”, he grinned. “I know you got that parasite thing, but seriously…”. Eddie looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yeah, Don… this is my new neighbor”. He introduced me, avoiding my eyes. “She went to La Boulange”. Don inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Yikes… New in town?”, he asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Coffee black?”, Eddie asked me. I nodded. “Give us two blacks and a couple of glazed yeast”. “I’ll add some sprinkles for the lady”, Don winked friendlily. Eddie groaned. “Just… don’t make them the green ones”, he said. “I was high for 12 hours straight last time”. I laughed out loud.

We left the store; Eddie politely having paid for our coffees and donuts. Through the window I saw Don point at me, and give Eddie the thumbs up and a wink. “He’s a character”, I smiled. “He sure is”, Eddie answered. His voice was deliciously raspy, and watching him speak I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble his lips could get in to with mine. I had to shake myself out of the thought. “Thanks for this”, I said. “You haven’t tasted it yet”, he said.

I bit in to my pastry. It was carb-heaven in my mouth. “Oh. Oh my God!”, I said, mouth full. “I know, right?”, Eddie smiled. I raised my brows and nodded fiercely. “It’s why I go out of my way to come here every morning”. “Don’t journalists work all over?”, I asked, covering my mouth with my hand, as I was still chewing. He scrunched his brows at me in question. I pulled out the newspaper from my bag. “Oh, yeah”, he said. “I do freelance stuff mostly; but I have a position at a newspaper downtown. Used to write for The Globe”. “New York?”, I asked. “So, why move to San Francisco?”. He shrugged. “I lost the position for… being what I am. An honest reporter”.

I half smiled. “So, a new life”. “Yeah, and a girl”, he admitted. “My fiancée”. My heart dropped; and I did my best not to show it on my face. “Oh! You’re engaged? That’s great!”. “Not really”, chuckled. “I messed that up too… by being what I am”. “An honest reporter…”, I muttered. “And at times a little too cutthroat about it”. He sighed. “It’s good though. She’s good. I’m good. We’re good”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?”, he said and laughed. “Are you sure you’renot a reporter?”. “Nah. I’m just an elementary schoolteacher”, I said. “I do write, though. But not articles”. “What?”, he said earnestly. I shook my head. “Another time. I’m sure you have somewhere to be”. He looked at his watch. “Shit, yeah!”, he said. “Sorry, I gotta run”. “It’s fine. Thanks again”.

He nodded and smiled. “You take care, teach’”, he said. “See you around”. He walked away; scratching his head, and looking back at me a couple of times. I took my time enjoying my donut and coffee; and walked in the opposite direction. Eddie – Be still my beating heart.

---

I spent the rest of the morning trying to map out the best way to and from work. As I was starting the next Monday morning, the nerves were getting to me. They’re just 5-yearolds, I kept telling myself. 5-yearolds attending a private school funded by their very rich parents; and some pretty serious sponsors from Silicon Valley. And me without my degree from MIT…

I stopped at Mrs. Chens for some light groceries. Although I’d loved Don’s donuts – and his coffee had been heavenly – I was to anxious to see myself making my way all the way to the Mission District the next day; and I always needed caffeine and access to some kind of breakfast in the morning. The lady behind the counter – Chen, I assumed – seemed nice, though a bit standoffish; and quickly checked out my coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese; and other essentials. “You’re new here”, she said. “How did you know?”, I asked. “I usually only get regulars”, she answered, and narrowed her eyes at me. “I moved in down the street. My neighbor recommended your shop”, I smiled. “Who?”, she demanded. “Eddie…”, I answered timidly. Her face instantly became warmer. “He’s a good boy”, she said. “Tell him to pic up my cousins latest cd. It’ll do him good. As well as his parasite”. That parasite thing again. Weird. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff; and left the store.

I made my way back to the apartment; cranked up the Fleetwood, and danced it out for a while. I’d always done that; when I needed to get something out of my system. It was better than drinking myself into oblivion – and I was out of whiskey.

I was completely oblivious to anything around me, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around, arms in the air; and almost died from embarrassment. The door was open; and in the opening stood Eddie.

“Sorry, it was open”, he said; trying to stifle a smile. “Ziggy had a crazy ex kick it down once. It’s always needed an extra push and pull to close properly, since then”. I nodded, blushing. He held up a carton of eggs. “Chen said you forgot this”, he said. “Thanks…”, I said, taking the pack from him. I grimaced. “So… this is embarrassing”. He laughed. “What? The eggs, or the dancing?”, he chuckled. “Ha, ha. Laugh it out”, I said, stifling a smile. “I was enjoying the view”, he said; and glint to his eyes – before grimacing himself. “Sorry… that was… probably crossing a line”. “It’s fine… you’re fine…”, I said; realizing what I’d just said. “Good, I mean. Shit… I do this to clear my head, sometimes. Dance. It relaxes me”.

He laughed. “I just got back from… a thing”, he said. “I need to clear my head a bit as well. Was gonna take a ride up to Coit Tower”. I smiled; my blushing beginning to fade. “That sounds nice”, I smiled. He exhaled. “Yeah… do you wanna come?”. My jaw dropped. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I’d like that”, I said. What the hell, Eddie? Are you asking me out? “Great”, he smiled. “I was gonna take my bike; are you good with that?”. “I don’t have a bike”, I said. He chuckled. “Not that kind of bike”. Right. The motorcycle helmet. “And now I feel like an idiot”, I muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve met the biggest idiots in media, politics and sports; and you look nothing like them”, he said. “You do look like someone who needs to get out of this place for a while”. I smiled; grabbed my jacket; and followed him out the door – making sure it was properly shut behind me.

Eddie grabbed two helmets from his apartment; giving me another chance peak into his place. It smelled nice. Like tater tots and musky cologne. I didn’t know why, but suddenly it was my favorite smell. “Let’s go”, Eddie said; handing me one of the helmets; and we made our way down the stairs.

Outside the building stood a motorcycle. It was clearly well cared for. Eddie got on it, and put on his helmet; gesturing for me to get on behind him. “You should hold on”, he said. I searched for something to grab; and he took my wrists; pulling my arms around his waist. Wow. Ok. Firm. “You good?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I squeaked. He chuckled behind his helmet. “Sit tight, teach’”. He started the bike, and revved the engine; before taking off. “Oh my God”, I yelped; feeling his body shake in laughter in front of me.

I was convinced he took the steepest roads; scaring the shit out of me for the first few miles – before I finally got comfortable behind him. I relaxed my body; and let myself enjoy the view of the city in the dusk – and how close I was to Eddies warm body. I felt his calm breathing; and matched it – soon feeling completely relaxed. We hit a bump, making the bike jump a bit; and I laughed in glee; hearing him laugh along with me.

The drive was over way to soon for my liking. We’d made our way up Telegraph hill; and I got off the bike, taking of my helmet. “You liked that, huh?”, Eddie grinned at me. “Yeah, it was fun!”, I smiled. He looked at me; almost in wonder. “Was that your first time on a bike?”. “I tried it once, for like five minutes; when I was a kid, but kind of. Yeah”, I admitted. “I couldn’t tell”, he smirked sarcastically. I frowned in mock annoyance. “Shut up”, I said. “You’ve never had a better passenger”. He laughed. “Yeah… come on”.

The sun was going down; and we were too late for tickets to get up the tower; but Eddie seemed unfazed. “There’s a good view over here”, he said; putting his hand on my lower back, to lead me over to a railing. “You gonna push me over this thing?”, I joked. “Nah, would be a poor move for a first date”, he said. I looked at him. “This is a date?”, I smiled. He seemed to have an internal dialogue. “I… don’t know”, he said. “Do you want it to be?” I bit my lip. “Let’s see how good this view is; and I’ll let you know”.

The view was stunning. I could see both the lights of the city as well as the Golden Gate bridge. My jaw dropped at the sight. “Wow…”. Eddie looked at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty special”, he said.

I stepped towards the binoculars; searing my pockets for change. “I don’t have a quarter!”, I heard Eddie whisper. “It’s fine”, I smiled at him. “I can see pretty clear anyway”. He looked me, caught off guard. “Yeah. Sorry…”. I leant against the railing. “I could fall in love with this city”, I proclaimed. Eddie smiled warmly at me, walking up next to me – close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.

We looked at the views for a while, talking about this and that. I told Eddie about my hometown, and how I’d loved it as well. “So, why did you decide to come here”. “It’s a long story”, I muttered. “Come on, I’ve already seen you dance!”, he chuckled. “You don’t like my dancing?”, I gasped in jest. He smiled. “You really put the oogie in the boogie”, he said. “You’re the most graceful elephant in a porcelain shop, I’ve ever seen”. “So now I’m an elephant?”, I raised a brow at him. He grimaced. “I walked right in to that”, he muttered. “Sorry…”. I smiled at him in forgiveness. “Seriously though. Why’d you make the move?”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to mess with him. “It’s embarrassing”, I said. He smiled encouragingly. “Ever since I was a kid… I’ve always wanted to act. Be in the big movies”. His lips parted, and he looked really uncomfortable. I continued. “So… I decided to give it a shot. Come here; and be near Hollywood, you know?”. I smiled earnestly. “I think I’ve finally got a shot; now that the studios are just down the street”. Eddie looked genuinely sorry for me. “Lyla… I don’t…”, he began. “Eddie…”, I smiled. “I’m kidding”. He exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you… You know?”. “I know”, I smirked. “’Cuz we’re a way off from Hollywood here”. I nodded. “About 400 miles. I realize that”. He began laughing, and shook his head. “Is this payback for the elephant thing?”, he said. I shrugged. “Maybe”, I smiled.

He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re bad news, darlin’!”, he laughed. “You’re not, though”, I answered. “Tell me; why did your article on those home robberies end up in a free newspaper, instead of some big ass media outlet?”. He sighed. “Not everyone wants to run the hard stories”, he said. “As long as it gets out there…”. I nodded. “I get it”, I said. “Besides, in a free paper the story will get a broader audience, right?”. He shrugged. “I hope so”, he said. “I think it’s an important story”. “Me too”, I agreed.

I told Eddie about my new job. “Private school?”, he grimaced. I laughed. “Yeah, I know”, I said. “Not very socially conscious of me. But the pay is good. And I needed a change”. “What made you move here? The truth this time”, he smiled. “It’s got to be more than the job. You don’t strike me as someone who does things just for money”. I chewed my lip. “I wasn’t in a very good place in my job, or my life”, I admitted.

He looked at me with warm eyes – the color even more indistinguishable in the dusk. I bit my lip; wanting desperately for something to happen. “How’s your head? A bit clearer?”, he said quietly. “Not really…”, I admitted. He let out a quiet laugh, and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah, me neither”, he muttered. “Can I kiss you? I just feel like I should, you know...?”. I interrupted him by taking his hand. “Yes…”. He nodded and sighed in relief. “Ok. Then… I’m going to do that. Now”. I chuckled; and laced my fingers with his. He stepped closer; putting a lock of my hair behind my ear; before placing his hand on my cheek; letting his thumb stroke my cheekbone. “I like your eyes…”, he said. “Stop talking, Eddie”, I smiled. “Ok”, he said; and finally let his full lips meet mine.

It was soft. Gentle. I parted my lips; letting the tip of my tongue meet his. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close; and I slid my hands around his neck – letting my fingertips play with the hair there. He pulled his head back a bit; letting our foreheads meet. “You’re… something else”, he smiled. “Something good, I hope”, I answered. “Yeah”, he breathed. “Can I… just… one more time?”, he muttered; before pressing his lips to mine again. I chuckled against his kiss; and returned his enthusiasm. This time there was a bit more heat to our connection. He held on to me; making me stand flush against him. I felt a rush of blood to my core; and my breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat. Our lips parted, and we saw that we we’re being watched by an elderly couple. “You kids should take that somewhere else”, one of the men said. I flushed red, and Eddie took my hand. “Yeah. Let’s… go”, he smiled.

---

Once back at our building, Eddie gave me a hand to get off his bike. We walked up the stairs together, and paused in front of our doors.

“Thanks for this”, I said. “I needed a distraction”. “I’m a distraction now?”, Eddie asked with a smirk. “A good one”, I chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Thanks for the… kissing part. I liked that”, he said. “I did too”, I said, before chewing my bottom lip for a moment. “We could do it again… If you want to”. Eddie looked relieved. “I really do”, he smiled, and took a step closer to me. I met him halfway, and leaned in to him, as he cupped my cheek, and our lips met. He took my bottom lip between his own; softly tugging it – and the repeated the process with the top one. My tongue brushed against his lips, and he met it with his own; letting them reacquaint themselves with each other.

Eddie put his arm around me, and I shivered in pleasure, as our hips met; and I felt his body’s very obvious reaction to our kiss. He let out a soft groan; a sound that sent electricity straight to my core. Grabbing on tighter to me, he almost had my knees give in. In spite of his normally withdrawn and almost aloof demeanor – which he’d relaxed somewhat, curing our evening together – he now seemed like he couldn’t get me close enough; almost hungry in his kiss. I was right there with him; ready to throw all inhibitions out the window, and let him take me in that hallway. I literally had to dig my nails in to my palm, to tear myself from the heated moment.

I put my hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and pushed him away as gently as I could. “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”, he asked, in a surprisingly concerned voice. “No, Eddie; I’m…”, I tried. “I don’t always know my own strength. I’ll be more careful…”. Eddie seemed unable to stop talking. I put my fingertips to his soft lips – for a short second considering slipping one into his mouth; just to feel him suck on it – and took a step back. “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Really!”, I smiled. “But, I have this rule… I don’t have sex on the first date”. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a step back himself. “No… Of course! I don’t want you to think, I see you as some kind of… I mean, if you were, there would be nothing wrong with that… People can enjoy sex, that’s completely normal… But I would never expect you to just…” I couldn’t help but smile at his flustered babbling, but in the end, I decided to put him out of his misery. I leaned in, and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight”, I said. “Yeah… goodnight, Lyla”, Eddie said. He watched me as I unlocked my door, and I gave him a final smile, before stepping inside, and closing it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, and sighed frustratedly. It felt like everything below my bellybutton was literally screaming at my brain, saying; open the door, and stop thinking so much, you stupid blob of fat and water! I want to play!. I peeked out of the peephole, and saw Eddie beginning to fish out his keys. He looked like he was having a frustrated conversation with himself. He turned and looked at my door, and I quickly pulled back from the peephole. “You’re being an idiot”, I whispered to myself.

Before I knew it had happened, I had opened my door. “Eddie…”. He dropped his keys in chock, and scrambled to pick them up. His jacket and shirt rode up slightly, letting me get a peek at his tattooed torso; only making my resolve stronger. “Yeah! Hey… Hi”, he said, and got up to stand again. “You know, when I said I’d let you know whether it was a date or not…”. “Yeah?”, Eddie muttered. I chewed my lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I decided it wasn’t a date… So, technically, I wouldn’t be breaking my rule”. Eddie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh… Oh! You mean…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence; and I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, unless you changed your mind”, I muttered. “No!”, Eddie said, taking a step towards me. “I’d like that”.

I let out a pleased sigh, and was even more relieved when Eddie decided to take the lead, and step over to me; instantly capturing my lips in a warm kiss. I put my arms around his neck, and let myself float away in the pleasurable sensations his soft, full lips sent through my body. I’d known this man for less than a week – I could hardly say that I knew him at all – but everything in that moment was perfect; as if we were made to do this. Eddie pressed me against the doorway to my apartment, and let out a guttural groan when I ran my nails through his short hair. He pressed his tongue into my mouth, and once again I relished in his taste.

I looked out the corner of my eye at the main living area of my sublet, and frowned. I pulled back slightly, to be able to speak. Eddie moved his kisses down to my neck, and I gasped audibly. “Eddie… Oh, god. That’s… No, stop!”, I rasped. He pulled back instantly, and met my eyes. “What?”, he asked. “The bed in there is kind of gnarly… Can we do this at your place?”, I said. “Yeah, of course”, he smiled, and tore himself from me, to run over and open his own door. I closed the door to my own place – giving it that extra yank it needed – and stepped up behind Eddie. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess", he muttered apologetically, and opened his door.

Eddie’s apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. I could have sworn I saw a few unwashed dishes by the sink, but when I blinked, they were gone; as if a shadow had whisked them away. He had post-it notes hanging with ideas for stories, and a couple that read things like If you eat it, replace it and Pigeons are not food. “Do you have a roommate?”, I asked. Eddie chuckled nervously to himself. “Nah, I… forget things”, he said, and tore down a note reading No roadkill in the tub!.

I decided against asking, and simply made my way over to the couch, letting my finger run along the back of it. “Do you want some coffee? Or a beer?”, Eddie asked, and moved towards the fridge. I bit my lip, and shook my head. “Maybe… after?”, I said, trying for seductive; and failing miserably, when I tripped over a stack of papers on the floor. Before I knew what happened, Eddie was next to me; catching me before I hit the floor. “Wow… you’re fast!”, I said. “I… did track in high school”, he said. “You were all the way over…”, I began.

Eddie pressed his lips to mine, to shut me up, and soon I was forgetting all about the ten feet he’d traversed in less than a second. As quickly as I could, I shed my jacket, and Eddie’s lips once again travelled down my neck. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and couldn’t help put squeeze his biceps; finding them as firm as I’d imagined. As Eddie latched on to my pulse-point, I let out soft moan; and was rewarded with his hands moving down to my butt. Giving them a tight squeeze, he suddenly lifted me up, and made me put my legs around his waist. “Let’s move over here”, he muttered, and walked us over to the bed in the corner; gently setting me down on it.

We both began tugging at each other’s tops at the same time, but after chuckling at each other; we silently decided to take care of our own clothing. After I’d shed my tank-top, I kicked off my sneakers while Eddie took off his boots. We kept eye-contact as much as possible, and I saw nothing but appreciation in his gaze, as he saw me get more and more undressed. I was enjoying the sight of his bare torso as well; wanting nothing more than to bury my face in the soft hairs of his barreled chest. I pulled off my jeans – leaving me in socks, bra and panties – and moved back on the bed. Eddie raised a brow at me, and shook his head; and once he had gotten rid of his own pants, he grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I yelped in glee as my groin met his, and he pushed me to lie back. I managed to reach down, and hook my finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs; but Eddie grabbed my wrist. “We got all night…”, he said. “But…”, I said. “Relax”.

He smirked mischievously, and kneeled down at the foot of the bed, and ran his palms up my thighs; leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he left a soft kiss on the inside of my left thigh, while his fingertips stroked circles on my right one. My breath hitched, as his warm breath travelled up to my warmth. I was ready to scream by the time his soft lips left an openmouthed kiss on my covered folds. “Please…!”, I whined. Eddie chuckled, and I felt his tongue lick a broad stripe against the lace covering my throbbing, most sensitive parts. Once again, I tried to take charge, by grabbing his head; but he grabbed my wrists, and forced them down my sides. “I really don’t want to have to hold you down”, he chided. “I kind of need my hands for what I’m about to do…”. I let out a frustrated groan, and relaxed my arms as much as I could. “Good girl…”, Eddie hummed, and let go of my hands. I threw my arms back, and grabbed for one of the pillows above my head, and dug my fingers in to it, to keep from getting in the way of Eddie’s work on my privates again.

With agonizingly slow movements, Eddie hooked his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down my feet. He held them up with one finger, and gave me another smirk, before flicking them away. They landed over his open laptop, and we both laughed for a moment; before Eddie once again lowered his face. The last thing I saw before throwing my head back in pleasure, was Eddie’s pleased eyes widening at his upcoming feast. His perfect mouth closed around my folds and clit, and he gave me a deep suckle, before flicking his tongue over my clit. “I know…”, he muttered. “Come again?”, I croaked. “I’m just enjoying my meal”, Eddie replied, blushing adorably. “Ok… Uhm… well, contin… Oh my god!”. Eddie had entered me with two fingers, and began moving them in a come-hither motion, while sucking hard at my nub. Letting out a growl against my wetness, Eddie soon had me seeing stars. As his fingers worked on my most sensitive spot inside, his tongue moved in a zigzag pattern between my folds; going up and down, and never forgetting to give my clit a languid stroke when he reached it. I put the pillow over my face, and cried out in pleasure, as Eddie worked me towards a mind shattering orgasm. Everything went white, and I’m pretty sure I floated above the mattress for a few seconds; as if something was lifting me in the air.

I was panting into the pillow and shaking all over, as I came down. “Don’t do that!”, Eddie grunted. “What?”, I muttered through the pillow. Eddie climbed up my body, and pulled it away from my face, looking flustered. “Just… don’t cover your face. I want to see you”, he said. “Ok…”, I said.

We smiled at each other, and kissed again. I could taste myself on his tongue, and enjoyed it more than was proper. Eddie laid down between my legs, and pressed against me; making me leave a wet spot on his boxers, from my still glistening folds. “Let me just get these off”, he smiled, and pulled down his underwear; and letting his erection spring free. I smiled in appreciation, and took a hold of my new friend; gently beginning to stroke it. “That’s… that’s nice”, Eddie said, straining to keep his composure. “A bit harder, please”. I tightened my hold, and received a deep moan in reply. “Condom?”, I asked. “Shit, yeah”, Eddie said, and reluctantly pulled himself out of my grasp. As he got off the bed, and ran over to search one of the drawers in his dresser, I snapped open my bra, and took it off. When he turned around to face me, with a foil packet in his hand, his jaw dropped at the sight of my mounds. “That is… Those are very nice”, he croaked. I chuckled, and pulled off my socks; wanting to be completely naked. “Oh, right!”, Eddie said, and tugged his own socks off, one at a time; losing his balance, and falling on to the bed next to me.

I nabbed the foil packet from his hand, and opened it carefully, pulling out the condom. Straddling Eddies legs, I closed my fingers around the tip of the rubber, and held it to the head of his penis. I rolled it down a little, before lowering my head, and closing my mouth around it; rolling it the rest of the way with my lips. Eddie let out a gasping groan, and looked down at me with wide eyes. Once the condom was all the way down his hardness, I released him from my mouth, and sat up; smiling sweetly. “Where did you learn that?”, he asked. “While you were doing track in high school, I was under the bleachers; doing other kinds of workout”, I shrugged. “It’s an interesting talent”, he chuckled. “I have many more”, I said, raising a brow at him. “I’m sure you do”, Eddie smiled, and grabbed the back of my head; pulling me in for a hungry kiss.

I was flipped onto my back, and Eddie placed himself at my entrance. “Yeah?”, he said, searching my eyes for the go-ahead. “Please”, I said, unable to hide the pleading tone in my voice. Eddie gave me one more deep kiss, and as he did, he pushed himself inside me; bottoming out in my warmth. We both moaned deeply as we were conjoined, and Eddie began moving slowly in and out of me. “You’re so warm… and tight!”, he gasped into my ear. “You fit perfectly”, I panted, and moved my hips to meet his every thrust. “I do, don’t I…”, Eddie chuckled. “Holy… wow”. I locked my leg around his hips, and Eddie grabbed my other leg; hooking his arm under my knee. With ever thrust, the head of his penis brushed against my g-spot; but even just the friction against my nub, and the feeling of his velvety hardness brushing against my walls, were enough to make me whimper in pleasure.

After a while of moving together slowly, I felt my walls beginning to quake; and Eddie’s face lit up. He began thrusting faster and harder, and soon I was crying out in ecstasy again. Every atom in my being felt like it was exploding, and I came around him. “Yes!”, I cried out, and Eddie laughed, seemingly overjoyed that he could make me feel this way. “Fuck, you look beautiful when you come”, he grinned. My hair was a tussled, and I was pretty sure my makeup was a mess, but I took his words as truth in that moment; convinced from the expression on his face, that there was no way he could be lying. “Thank you… for that”, I gasped. “And for the orgasm. That was pretty awesome too”. We laughed together for a moment, before Eddie leaned down, and kissed me. “Are you good to continue?”, he asked. “Don’t you dare stop!”, I exclaimed. “Ok… Turn around, then”.

He pulled out of me – leaving me feeling empty and wanting more – and grabbed my hip, to make me turn over. I got on all fours, and once again felt Eddie probing my entrance. He pushed into me with a pleased sigh, and began moving again. He shifted between fast and slow; as if every time he picked up speed, he willed himself to slow down again. “It’s ok. I can take it”, I said. “Alright”, Eddie panted, and let out a groan, as he slammed in to me. I feel forwards on the bed, landing on my chest; and felt my backside lift with every one of Eddie’s thrusts in to me. “… just go to sleep!”, I heard Eddie behind me. “I’m not…”, I said. “What?”. “I’m not asleep. How could I be?” “Oh… No, yeah; of course!”.

He snaked a hand underneath me, and expertly began stroking circles against my clit. I was soon, once again, feeling the familiar rush of an impending orgasm. “I’m gonna…”, I rasped. “Again?”, Eddie panted; still thrusting in to me, and having found the perfect rhythm for the both of us. “Uh huh…”, I whimpered, and turned my face into the mattress; crying out in pleasure. My walls contracted around Eddie’s hardness, and moments later, he let out a rasping groan; and came.

I was trying to regain my breath, and still feeling my muscles clenching throughout my body; as Eddie pulled out of me. He placed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and got off the bed, to rid himself of the condom. I pulled at the sheet, wrapping it around me, as he returned to the bed and slipped his boxers back on. He looked satisfied, but also a bit frustrated, and I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, to clean up.

Through the door, I heard him shuffling around the small apartment, and seemingly talking to himself. “… stay out of it… was a me thing… I don’t need that”. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable at the situation; and must have been stood for quite a while in the small bathroom, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Are you ok in there?”, Eddie called out. “Yeah!”, I replied, quickly finishing my cleanup, and washing my hands. I stepped out into the living area again, and gave him a half smile. “Uhm… are youok though?”. Eddie leaned in, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, before stepping over to the fridge. “Of course… I’m awesome”, he said, and got out two beers. “That was great!”. I examined his face, and couldn’t help but frown. “Ok… You just seem a little out of it”, I said, and accepted the drink. “Are you regretting…”. “No!”, Eddie exclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Not at all… I just get in my head sometimes”. “Ok…”, I muttered.

Eddie sighed deeply, and took my hand. “Come on”, he said, and pulled me over to sit on the couch. “That… what we just did; that was really great. You were great”. “So were you”, I smiled, biting my lip. “Yeah?”, Eddie said; a slight pink hue to his cheeks. “Thanks…”. As I took a welcome sip of my beer, he merged his fingers with my free hand. “I’d like to do it again… If you’re good with that”. “I’d like that”, I said. We sat for a moment in silence. “Do you wanna stay the night?”. “I should get going”. We’d spoken at the same time. “Oh… Well, if you wanna go…”, Eddie said. “I just thought – seeing as you said the bed at your place wasn’t that great – maybe you’d want to sleep somewhere else”. “The couch isn’t much better”, I chuckled. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to think you have to…”. “I’d like you to stay”, Eddie said. I felt my cheeks burn. “Ok… I’ll stay”, I said.

Eddie lit up in a grin, and leaned in to give me a warm kiss. “I’m happy you moved in across the hall”, he said. “Me too”, I smiled. “Me three…! Too!”, Eddie said, his voice having shifted from deep, and back to his raspy tone within seconds. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… My throat is a bit dry”, he said, and took a deep swig of his beer. I frowned in confusion, but decided to let it go. We had just spent a good while exercising, and my own throat was a little dry as well; and I took another sip of my beer.

We sat for a long moment in silence, sipping at our bottles, and smiling warmly at each other; before Eddie frowned deeply. “I have to tell you something”, he said. “And… You might change your mind about staying”. I felt a shudder go through my body, suddenly worried where this was going. “What is it?”, I croaked. Eddie took a deep breath, and blew it out. He took my beer from me, and put it down on the coffee table, next to his own. Taking both my hands, he looked deeply in to my eyes. “Here goes… Uhm… Wow, this is hard”, he said. “Just tell me”, I said, trying for calm and encouraging. “Ok… I snore… And not in the cute way”, Eddie said. “I give the streetcars a run for their money, when it comes to noise”. I instantly began laughing in relief. “That’s it? You should hear me!”. Eddie raised his brows at me. “I’ll bet you 20 bucks and a donut from Don’s, I can outdo you”, he said. “You’re a journalist. Don’t you have a Dictaphone?”, I asked. Eddie sprang over to his messenger bag, and pulled out a small recorder. “Let’s do this!”, he exclaimed.

I got to my feet, and followed him over to the bed. Unwrapping myself from the sheet, Eddie gave me a sly smile, and pulled me in for a deep kiss – running his hands up and down my sides – before he let me crawl onto the bed. Once I laid down, he crawled in next to me, and put the sheet over the both of us. He clicked the record button on the Dictaphone, and put it by the bed: before pulling me in to his arms. I cuddled up against him, and let his warmth lull me; feeling suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Ed”, I whispered. We gave each other a soft kiss. “Goodnight, Lyla”, he replied.

I was already halfway asleep, when something tucked us in; pulling the covers over us. “Eddie?”, I yawned. “Yeah?”, he asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”. “Yes!”. “Ok. Goodnight”. I was out.

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