#every once in a while I will see johnny cash but I want to see toby keith on a playlist

[girlscience]

I know everybody likes to give characters the same 10 songs on their character playlists, but I think the most egregious issue with this is that no one gives them any country songs. I am handing them out to characters like candy. You get a country song, you get a country song, you get a country song.

[eksvaized]

What if, in an alternate universe, instead of being battle-hardened men, TF141 was a famous band? I know it’s a silly thought, but I can’t get it out of my mind.

In my mind, Kyle would definitely be the lead vocalist, who once in a while picks up a guitar. Like, his charm is literally irresistible, and he has this unique quality of being able to carry even the most awkward interviews: he always has the perfect timing, knowing exactly when to joke, when to lightly shade other artists, and when to not-so subtly flirt with an attractive interviewer.

Unlike his bandmates, Kyle also tends to steer clear of trouble, avoiding the drama and controversy that so often follows other bands. His biggest scandal to date, if it can be considered one, was a rumour about his escapades during the band’s tour across America. He supposedly slept with 50 different women, each one from a different state.

And while it was indeed a big deal for such news to erupt within the music industry, it didn’t come as a complete surprise, given Kyle’s reputation as a notorious flirt.

Johnny — a bass player. No doubts about that. When he’s performing during concerts, he becomes a force of nature, a whirlwind of chaotic energy that doesn’t seem to understand the concept of slowing down or taking a break. He’s constantly on the move and bouncing around from one side to another. At times, he’ll dive off the stage to interact with fans, often leaving his signature on some over-excited female’s cleavage. Other times, he can be seen on his knees, utterly lost in the rhythm of the music, grinding to its beat with his eyes closed as if in a trance—this is the most calm he can be during a gig.

Apart from his musical talents and electric stage presence, Johnny has another talent - a knack for attracting attention, particularly from the media. His face graces the pages of magazines on a weekly basis—an occurrence that he insists is accidental rather than intentional. However, Johnny is notoriously outspoken—he has never been one to hold back his tongue or shy away from expressing his opinions, regardless of how they might be received. And so, while refreshing, his candidness often lands him in hot water, especially when his remarks come across as controversial.

Price, Price, Price. Definitely a band manager, and not because I think he couldn’t keep up with the guys. Oh no, that’s not it. It’s just that in my head, I can picture him standing in the unlit corner of the backstage, a lit cigar dangling between his fingers as he counts money. Every so often, he nonchalantly tucks some bills under his belt. He thinks he deserves some extra cash because, yet again, he had to clean up the mess that Johnny made.

What did Johnny do? Apparently, he decided to wear a kilt onstage. The choice of attire wasn’t the issue itself. The problem arose from his decision to go commando, wearing no briefs underneath. Price obviously had to execute some serious damage control and pay off literally everyone who came to see the band. Otherwise, the pictures of Johnny’s dick would have flooded the internet the second people left the venue.

And then there’s Riley, who dominates the drums. Like, just imagine him on the stage, drops of sweat forming on his furrowed brow as he immerses himself in the rhythm. His shirt is discarded, tossed aside as heat radiates off him in palpable waves, and his blond hair is in disheveled from the constant, frenzied head banging — literally every woman’s wet dream.

Sadly, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stalk him on social media and drool over his shirtless pictures because all of his accounts are set to private. And because of how secretive he is about his personal life—unlike Kyle or Johnny, who don’t mind talking in interviews and sharing some details about what they get up to—the media has nicknamed Simon a Ghost.

Further contributing to his elusive image is a running joke among fans and media that the band doesn’t actually consist of three members, but is instead a duo of Kyle and Johnny. This is primarily because Simon seldom appears at public events. Even when a promotional interview is arranged for an upcoming tour or album, he tries to avoid attending by using every possible excuse, only to be eventually forced into it by Price.

What about you, though? Well, the answer to the question is obvious. You’re definitely a fan, but not the crazy stalker type. You just buy all their albums, follow them on every social media platform, and occasionally watch an interview or two, so you could gawk at how handsome all of them are.

So, when the news broke that they were having a concert in a city near you, you didn’t hesitate for a second. You purchased a ticket almost immediately, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you at the thought of watching them perform live. And the actual concert? It was the most fun you’d had in a long time. Even the fact that you went alone didn’t dampen your mood.

However, probably the part of the night that sent your heart racing, that made it beat the fastest, was an unexpected turn of events. You somehow, almost miraculously, managed to find yourself in the band’s tour bus. You were there, with Kyle’s hand lightly resting on your lower back, as he introduced you to the guys - Johnny, Price, and even Simon.

His exit left a strange silence, and your mind began to race; Price’s behavior seemed to confirm the rumors that had been circulating about Kyle might be true.

Price, to your surprise, did not seem taken aback by your arrival. He extended a hand towards you, the shake firm and lingering just a tad bit longer than necessary. His gaze then shifted over your shoulder, landing on Kyle and giving him a warning look before he excused himself to step outside.

Next, you were introduced to Johnny, whose demeanor was almost as tactile as Kyle’s, if not more so. He greeted you with a bear-like hug that almost crushed your ribs, squeezing the air out of your lungs. His wide grin was so broad it seemed almost idiotic. After releasing you from the embrace, Johnny leaned in close to Kyle, whispering something barely audible yet unmistakably complimentary, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘this one’s stunning’, before giving Kyle a hearty, brotherly clap on the back. You did your best to brush off Johnny’s remark, to dismiss it from your mind for fear of your face betraying your embarrassment by turning a bright shade of red.

Simon was sitting near the tiny window that allowed the soft glow of the moonlight to filter in. His long legs were spread wide in a display of relaxed confidence, and one arm was nonchalantly tossed over the leather couch’s backrest. He had yet to utter a single word. Which he did when Kyle mentioned you were here because you fancied a picture with them. This caught Simon’s attention.

At that point, the only thing keeping you standing straight was Kyle’s hand on your back. You knew, deep down, that you should decline this offer. Your mind was practically shouting at you to return to your rented motel room, reminding you of the early train you had to catch the following morning.

Simon turned to look at you, and you had no choice but to avert your gaze because it literally felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, as his lips curled into a sly, almost predatory smirk. “How about something better?” He suggested, his voice filled with a teasing lilt. “Have a drink with us.”

But how could you possibly refuse such an offer from your favourite band? Especially when you found yourself living the dream of every fan girl out there.

It was too tempting to resist.

[drgnflyteabox]

postcards from the coast [1]

part one -> the albatross || part two -> linens

series masterlist

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick / single mom!reader summary: kyle garrick is prescribed a year by the sea to cure his melancholia tags/warnings: grief, angst, depression, gaz was raised by a single mom truther, mention of past death (soap) w.c: 1.3k

He meets you at the edge of the world, surrounded by soaring seabirds and pale white sand, with the sound of frothing waves against craggy rocks behind him.

The weather hasn't committed yet, it's still cold, the kind of cold that's wet and salty and fragrant. His nose is numb and his mouth is dry, frozen in place, looking past the view he came for to focus on you.

They're not the same cliffs. Not the ones where they scattered Johnny's ashes, not so significant as that, where the world tilted on it's axis and grew emptier. There are still times when he thinks to turn and laugh with his friend, to text him, to send him postcards from his travels. And can't.

Vulnerability is a new feeling. Sure, he'd known as child that he could cry, that he could ask for help and embrace his feelings and admit when he didn't know things. This is different. It's feeling bereft, lost at sea, naked and open and unable to close back up around the space that Johnny used to occupy.

You break the circle of monotony.

For weeks he's visited this place, stared into the sea and thought of how he could come back to himself. Ignored John and Simon and and their messages, taking all his leave at once and then some. Calling his mom every Sunday and leaving it at that.

Having expected to be alone again, it's strange and startling to see you walking up the path, pushing a stroller, murmuring something with your head bent low to the crochet blanket covering the mouth of the stroller.

By the look of your wide eyes when you finally lay eyes on him, you weren't expecting anyone to be here either. It's a relatively isolated trail, but not completely uninhabited. He shrugs a shoulder and smiles politely, eyes still on yours.

"Hello," you look down, adjusting the blanket. Nervous, avoiding eye contact. "Do you mind if we…?"

"Of course," he says too quickly. He snaps his gaze away from yours, trying to put you at ease. "Been here too long, anyways."

"Oh no, I don't want to chase you away-" you're sheepish, still frozen on the path.

"You aren't," he shakes his head in placation, waving away your worries with one hand, while making to go by you. "Please, enjoy. And be careful by the edge, yeah?"

He doesn't know why he says it - it's not his place. But something in his chest squeezes when you nod quietly and slip by him.

"And that's all?" The barista clicks a pen against the counter, cup in one hand, hip cocked, waiting for him to confirm.

Black coffee, an almond croissant and and egg sandwich. Extra aged white cheddar. Trying to stir up an appetite outside of protein shakes.

"That's all, thanks," he pays with cash, safely, anonymously. Everything leads back to the job, even as he's here trying to forget about it. Guilt pokes through his numbness long enough to make him wince, forever feeling like he's letting the team down by being here.

Think this is a good idea for you, son, John had said. He tries to remember that on his worst days, when rest starts to feel like stagnation and atrophy. There's no mission, that's his mantra.

The bell chimes above the door and he pays no mind to it until he hears your voice again. Soft, timid, asking for dirty chai like someone's going to arrest you over it.

Watches you pay, one hand outstretched and the holding your baby. You're bouncing them up and down gently, almost unconsciously, lips close enough to brush the soft skin of their head.

"Hello again," it's bold, maybe too bold. You don't startle, but you're surprised. Maybe suspicious, guarded. Have you got a man in your life? Where is he?

"Hello," you smile politely, adjusting the wrap your baby is settled in against your chest. Soap would've called you a nervous little hen, patted Gaz on the back and encouraged him. Grief squeezes his throat with that thought and he turns away from you, breathing harshly through the feeling.

"Oh god, are you alright?" You're alarmed, hands hesitantly reaching and pulling back as if you want to help but aren't sure about touching a stranger.

He struggles against the tide, tethered to nothing. Who knew absence could be painful? Could catch you by surprise, worse than any sniper, anywhere and anytime?

Grief is strange like that. It almost makes him laugh for the absurdity of it. A smile pulls at his cheeks, painful and yet cathartic all at once. It's absence and it's not - Johnny will always be there, in the back of his mind or the forefront of memory. Gone and yet conjurable.

"Yeah, yeah," his voice has gone rough, so he clears his throat and smiles underneath eyes that prickle. "Choked a bit on air, you know how it is."

"Do you need water?" Your eyebrows pull up, concern all over your face, eyes wide. Aw, he didn't mean to scare you. Poor hen.

"No, that's alright, love," his coffee is up. The warmth is grounding in his hand, and soothes the pin needle feeling in his throat. "Haven't seen you around here."

"No. I just moved here," you offer, breaking eye contact to look toward the door. Defensive? Getting ready to run? "I should be going, though. You know how it is…" motioning to the baby with your free hand, he starts examining, analyzing. Your obvious anxiety, your pulling back. Sure, it could be because you're both strangers. Could also be because you're scared of something else.

"I hope I didn't overstep?"

"No, no, not at all." Your chai comes out before his food does, the smell of bread and cheese filling the cafe. You sip delicately at it, looking nonchalant to anyone but his trained eye. Sweat beads at your hairline, your free hand holding the baby tighter. "Just have some errands to run."

"That's fine, then. Need a hand with anything?" Leaning forward on his feet, trying to ask without asking, without assuming. Where's your husband?

Probably another overstep, another symptom of his brain being still for too long. Making something out of nothing. Maybe he's just creeped out the new mom whose just moved into a small town, like something out of a horror film.

"Thank you for offering," you smile without your eyes. He still hasn't seen your child, what they look like. So quiet, the both of you.

"Hello, dear." Mums voice is always a balm to the soul. He wants to call her more, not just Sundays. Wouldn't mind being the lad that calls his mum every night if it didn't mean that she was always using that tone of hers, the one she'd adopted after Johnny died. He knows she's balancing her own grief with her mothering, so he spares them both by limiting contact.

"Hey, mum. How's the garden?" Spring is big for her, always has been. She used to feed them half their meals right out of her plot in the backyard. John had nearly started calling him rabbit when he'd met her and seen the bounty. Thank god that never stuck.

"It's good, I've just planted my radishes, my turnips, my…"

Listening to her speak is like rocking in a hammock. He lets the sound wash over him, staring through his window at the falling dusk and picturing you again. The long, wool skirt you'd worn to the cliffs. Your eyes, wide and concerned.

This is a rental house, paid for with cash and a false name thanks to Kate. It's hard to feel grateful for it when he's gone from one emptiness to another, but he knows that John is home with his wife and Simon is off doing the same thing as he is. Recovering, taking a breather. Until the next mission.

"And I have your sister her, Kyle, she wants to say hello," he's brought back to the present, eyes crinkling when he hears her voice.

"Kyle Garrick! Have I been texting a brick wall? You haven't-"

Even upset, it's nice to hear her voice. To be scolded.

He leans into his rickety rented chair and lets himself relax.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[swifty-fox]

Outlaws AU snippet

More rough drag of rubber soles over rocks as Benny drops down onto his launches, voice suddenly closer.

“Look,” He says, quiet enough to not carry over to the rest of the milling travelers, “I don’t know what want down with your last travel partner, you haven’t said anything and I won’t ask what you’re not offering, but you’ve got ‘broken heart’ stamped all over you and Jack’s gotten attached.” 

Gale screws his face up, pinching his lips together as if he could deny that’s exactly the beast that’s been crouching on his shoulders. 

“He and I are gonna stick around here with these guys for a week or two,” Benny continues,  “Stage crew their gigs and earn a little cash. There’s a spot for you if you want it.”

Dropping his arm back down to his side, Gale squints one eye up at him.

Benny scratches the back of his head, “Losing Jack is my worst nightmare. Nobody should be goin’ it alone so if you want to ride the High Line with us, we thought we’d offer.” 

He has to swallow a couple of times, clear his throat and sit up to reach for a water bottle, “That’s kind of you Benny.” 

“Everyone should see it once,” Benny shrugs, “It’s the prettiest freight ride in North America.”

-*~*-

They spend two weeks and three days in Portland, carrying drum sets and guitar cases and amps to every sticky one room dive bar in the city. The set up sound systems under the careful eye of Alex and teaches him how to pick pockets in turn. Rosie is the most frequent victim of the bassists newfound sticky fingers and it’s not an infrequent occurrence to hear him begging Alex for his lucky lighter back.

Cranks a good guy. East Coast as they come but Gale’s trying not to hold it against him, especially since he was graciously allowing them to crash in the already cramped van. 

The band isn’t bad. Not the next Nirvana but might go somewhere if they played their cards right. 

They work other odd jobs, as sometimes all Rosie and the others can offer in payment is a dry place to sleep and a meal, and Gale spends a couple weeks helping out at a record store run by an old dyke called Baby and her partner Alice. He picks up a taste for Bob Seger and while he lifts the walkman the cassette for Night Moves is an honest purchase. 

Johnny and Benny drop acid one night, disappearing into the van, and Gale sits with Rosie and Crank who trade a cigarette back and forth and giggle like children everything the wheels squeak.

“Do you think they realize we’re still all out here by the fire?” Rosie gasps into his hand. In the low light, face creased by mirth he makes out so similar an image to John that Gale finds his gaze lingering for just a moment. 

“Naw,” Gale drawls eventually, placing a toothpick between his lips and drawing his braid over a shoulder to brush fingers through it, “Let the lovebirds have their fun.”

[sawyerslvt]

Johnny or Leland? | Episode 1

Previous Episode ♡ Next Episode Hiyyaa <33 This is a choose your own ending story. I'm sure this has been done before on here, but I've always been obsessed with the option of choosing your own path in stories. I wanted to make a love triangle story between Leland and Johnny but I just couldn't choose who to pick in the end so this was the best solution to my problem. I have also included links to porn in this series, for better visualization ;) I hope you enjoy the story! <3 Word Count: 1,644 Warnings: MDNI, kidnapping

You've always had such a hard time choosing. You find yourself spending ages making simple decisions and you don't understand how hard it can be… Do I want regular Coca Cola or Coca Cola cherry? You're standing in front of the open fridge at the convenience store, shutting it only after the cashier starts giving you dirty looks. You continue holding both of the glass bottles in your hand. Taking turns looking from one soda to the other. You feel this is a losing battle regardless, whatever you end up not choosing, will be the one you crave after taking one sip of your chosen drink. You take a deep sigh and don't take notice of the man approaching you. 

“Havin’ a hard time deciding?” Your gaze shoots up from the bottles and you're met with a young man smirking at you, leaned up against one of the soda fridges. “uhh, yeah… which one would you pick?”, you tilt your head curiously. You just want this small inconvenience to be over with already. “I'm more of a classic guy. Don't like cherry too much. Go with the original”. He’s confident in the way he’s speaking. “Well, I do like cherry. I just-” He cuts you off, “cherry it is then sweetheart, come on, i'll get it for ya”. He opens the fridge and grabs the original coke from your hand to place it back in its place. You feel his hand graze yours, making your eyes shoot up to look at his face. He’s close to you as he reaches into the fridge. You get a whiff of his cologne and he smells really good. 

He walks over to the cash register and you place the cherry coke on the counter. The man pulls out his wallet and flips through his cash to bring out a dollar bill. You haven't stopped staring since the first time you laid eyes on him, he’s beautiful and the way he occasionally licks his lips makes you feel some type of way. He finally takes notice, and as the cashier collects his change, he looks over to you to shoot you a quick wink. He lets his head drop, chuckling and your cheeks burn hotter than the sun. The cashier is unamused, rolling his eyes at the cheesy scene unfolding before his unfortunate eyes. You grab your drink off the counter while your head stays down to hide your hard blushing. 

He holds the door open for you and gestures for you to walk in front of him. Once you exit the store, you're met with the cool night breeze. The sun has already set so it doesn't burn your skin to be outside, but you still feel that damn heat nonetheless. “Thank you for the drink, sir. You shouldn't have” your voice is sweet and gentle, you appreciate his kind gesture. “Sir?! alright, please don't tell me I look like a sir to you!”. His mouth is left agape but you see him smiling through his shock. You giggle at his reaction… it was intentional, he didn't look old at all but you just couldn't refrain from teasing him. “Oh, I don't know. Why don't you introduce yourself?”. You look up at him with a warm smile and he laughs, loving your playfulness. “Well darlin’, since you asked so kindly. The name’s Leland, I'm not a sir and I’d love to get to know a beautiful woman like yourself”. He looks down to your blushed face and smirks, loving your mannerism every time he directly flirts with you. 

You look down at the ground but he steps closer to you, bringing his hand to your chin to have you facing him again. “No need to act all shy with me, sugar”. He’s only inches away from your face. You feel the warmth of his breath bounce off your lips. He’s still holding onto your chin and staring directly at your lips, making you lick them to prepare for him. He looks into your eyes briefly, smirking, then quickly pulls in to connect his lips with yours. His lips are soft and you feel like you're melting into the strangers arms as he uses his free hand to pull your waist closer. You shoot your eyes open as you hear a tree branch breaking behind you. It sounded close enough for you to turn around completely, facing the direction of the noise. 

Leland looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what's with the theatrics. “Did you hear that?” Your voice is almost whispering. “It was probably some squirrel. What? You're scared of some cute critter?”. He teases you and you laugh, playfully hitting his shoulder. He makes a face, pretending you hurt him, holding his shoulder and letting out fake pained grunts until he eventually also breaks into laughter with you. His teasing made you let your guard back down. He gently turns you back around and pulls you in again, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched as you continued kissing him. You were most likely paranoid due to the pitch blackness of the forest behind you. Anything could lurk in the shadows and your fear of the unknown is taking a toll on you, it was probably nothing. You feel a chill run up your spine, making you shiver and hug yourself. Leland notices your discomfort and  pulls away from the kiss. He places both his arms around you, covering you like a warm blanket. “...you wanna warm up in my car?”. He looks down at you with his kind eyes. You nod into his chest and look up at him giving him a warm smile. He returns the smile and keeps one arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk over to his car. 

Once both of you are seated in his car, he looks over to you. Your hands are tucked between your thighs, partially because of the dropping temperature. But it was also a way to calm the butterflies going wild between your legs. Just looking at the man made your thoughts act up. His lips were softer than cotton and thinking about them again made your lips tingle. Your thoughts get interrupted by his hand making its way to your thigh. His hand gives you a gentle squeeze as it rests warm and soft on your thigh. “You’re beautiful”. His words escaped him as if he was nervous. There were no hints of nervousness coming from him from the second you met him. You look at him and there is innocence to his mannerism, you find yourself smiling over his sweetness. Without saying anything, you lean in and let your lips find his. Your hands rest on his lap and he has one of his hands wrapped around your waist while the other is behind your neck. 

You deepen the kiss, squeezing your hands in his lap. Your hands are resting close to his bulge and you feel how big the curve is. You moan into his kiss and he responds giving you a deep groan. He introduces his tongue and you gladly welcome it inside your mouth. Your spit and tongues swirl together and you can tell he’s experienced. You feel your pussy get wetter as you kiss him but break away from it to look down at his growing bulge. You look into his narrowed eyes and you can tell he wants you badly. You stroke the print of his shaft from the outside of his tight fitting jeans. You bite your lip as you continue stroking and he leans his head back, releasing a wonderful groan to express how good your soft hands feel on his clothed cock. 

He lets his head return to meet your gaze and in that moment it was just you and him. Both of you were completely unaware of your surroundings as you started to unbuckle his belt. You unzip his jeans, breaking away from the kiss to focus on the zipper for a second. To your absolute horror, you hear the driver’s window shatter, and before you realize what had happened, you see Leland’s head collapsed on the steering wheel and blood gushing from the back of his head. You see the stone that was used to break the window and a faceless man rushing behind the car to make his way to your side. 

“Leland!!! Please wake up!” you try shaking him but your desperate pleas prove to be useless as he’s knocked out cold. Your fight or flight kicks in and you unlock the door to get away before the man gets to you. You swing the car door open, crying as you feel horrible for leaving Leland behind. You run but your heart skips a beat when you hear heavy footsteps chase after you. You’re smart enough to not look back and continue running for your life, screaming for help as you try to make it back to the convenience store. You had no idea how close the man was to you but you become very aware the second he manages to hit you across the back of your head, making you fall to the ground. Your head is pressed against the concrete with his big hands, making it impossible to move and your vision starts to blur until everything fades to black. 

Previous Episode ♡ Next Episode

credit for dividers: @y-onb @plutism <3

[barrenclan]

ok ONE more music ask bc i think this is the third one i’ve submitted for the new issue so far:

so i went back & read issue 37 while listening to “drunk walk home” by mitski (both the original and the live at palisades version), timing my reading with the listening so that certain panels & passages would line up with the right points in the song, and dear. fucking. LORD. i wanna make a rainhaze pmv with this so badly. the only question is which version of the song to use

so the best way i can explain it:

*drumbeat intro* - the title page

“i will retire to the salton sea/at the age of 23” - that comic panel at the beginning showing how much he changed

“for i’ve started to learn i may never be free/but though I may never be free/fuck you and your money/i’m tired of your money” - idk exactly how it’d line up with the issue but something something him being influenced by defiance & ranger, something something “you can love someone and still hate/hurt them”

*guitar picks up* - the canine realization and/or slug’s reaction to the murder reveal. some combination of the two.

“and i sit on the curb ‘cause it’s the prettiest night/with no one else in sight/don’t you know i wore this dress for you/these killer heels for you” - rain gets all defensive & tries to justify the murder with the sleep thing & the hypocrisy

“see the dark, it moves/with every breath of the breeze” (+ the buildup before the guitar solo) - “convince them…okay”

*guitar solo* - slug attacks him, big fight scene

and of course the screaming at the end correlates to him screaming as he’s gutted like a baked potato

Nice!! I always love how much thought you put into song choices.

As a Johnny Cash enjoyer I must say I do prefer his cover but of course I love Nine Inch Nails too. More dark and gritty does fit Rainhaze better.

I've never actually listened to or seen Repo, but it does seem like something that would be up my alley. It does fit him too, driving in what he's done and forcing him to remember killing Asphodelpaw.

I remember every dying whisper Every desperate murmur I remember when I gaze upon her She looks just like you I remember, I remember

I like this from Rainhaze's perspective, like he's constantly trying to guess what Ranger wants from him, how much he has to hurt himself to please Ranger.

The waves suck you in then you drown If like, you'd just stay down with me I'll swim down with you Is that what you want?

You hang the anchors over my neck (Saw your end) I liked it at first but the more you laughed The crazier I became

Haha aww, Pinepaw.

I lost some weight from anxious pacing talking on the telephone If I look cool I'm fooling you At any point you can assume My mind's computing every path that screws up what I wanna do

The things that I can't shoulder well I pass onto my older self And hope I learn to cope so I don't end up broke or overwhelmed 'Cause vocally, I'm not the best

Poinsettia is an interesting pull, but I can see it. I hate to say Rainhaze once again but yknow... kinda Rainhaze...

The feelings of regret And now I'm running to forget But know, the consequence of imagination's fear I met a man downtown the other day With ruby eyes that took my life away

Thе antidote we look so hard to find To purge yourself of fear, relax your mind But heaven only knows Where my mind leads, the feeling grows

Someone has actually recently made an incredible animatic set to Ptolemaea, actually! You can see it here.

That's alright, I usually do all the lyric quoting!

Pick up another cigarette Smoke it now and soon you'll forget If only your silver lining had better timing 'Cause there's no crown for one on the way down

Your dull blade and your dusty attire Can bring back all those burning desires So go back to the pit or roll over

I'd love to see the animation if you ever make it! It does have big synergy with "The Death of BarrenClan" event.

Heed the sirens, take shelter, my lover Flee the fire that devours But the sight held me fixed like a bayonet against my throat

It was a pale white horse With a crooked smile And I knew it was my time

Not a song in the world that doesn't make me think of Rainhaze... anyways, I always like a good Hoosiers song.

Everything you love turns to dust, You'd make more of it but you felt rushed By all that's periphery, You held tight, but on the contrary

Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it, Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it

[bardic-tales]

Good morning. For this Thirsty Thursday for the @creators-club, I think today I will dive in a little behind what inspired me to create Sephica. Yes, Sephica is what I call the ship between Bianca Moore and Sephiroth.

This ship was originally created in the winter of 1997 (Febuary if I remember right) and has since seen many updates with every media release or change to the Final Fantasy 7 canon.

What real couples could they be compared to and why? What fictional couples could they be compared to and why?

Trigger Warnings (broadly as they are talking pieces): Abduction, addiction, codependency, cults, dark romance, death, emotional abuse, grief, manipulation, mental health struggles, moral ambiguity, murder, obsession, psychological trauma, self-sacrifice, Stockholm syndrome, supernatural themes, toxic relationships, violence.

Bianca and Sephiroth’s relationship can be compared to several real-life couples who share an intense and all-consuming bond despite challenges through at them. One such couple is Johnny Cash and June Carter, whose love could be described as defying adversity. Cash had a tumultuous past and a troubled mind, which can draw a parallel to Sephiroth’s dark journey. Meanwhile, like Bianca, June provided stability and solace grounding Cash. The relationship was far from perfect, as it had moments of darkness, but they found strength and redemption in each other. I feel like this mirrors how Bianca and Sephiroth’s love is rooted in shared pain and mutual devotion, providing both with a sanctuary even as they pursue their ambitions and are depicted as villains.

Another historical comparison is the relationship between Mary Shelley and Percy Bysshe Shelley, who shared a connection of grief, loss, and the pursuit of transcendence. Like Sephiroth, Percy was a person who was driven by lofty ideals, while like Bianca, Mary endured personal tragedies that influenced her devotion. Their love fueled creativity and madness alike and intertwined themes of death and rebirth. This is similar to Bianca and Sephiroth who are a blend of passion, pain, and a mutual longing for power, elevating them beyond conventional fictional relationships while challenging their sense of self and morality.

As for fictional relationships, when I was expanding on Bianca and Sephiroth’s relationship, I knew I wanted to stay away from one fictional couple: Harley Quinn and Joker, as I knew that most of my readers will draw this comparison sometimes. Given all of Sephiroth's faults, he has never once laid a physical hand on Bianca. He would rather tear apart the universe to prevent her from harm. When describing their relationship, I think about this quote:

After all, the first thing Sephiroth does once he learns he can take control of the clones is to possess SC X and tries to free Bianca from Diana and Hojo's experimentation, which he promptly learns that his angel can take care of herself.

I wanted to create a relationship that told a story of darkness and sacrifice, as well as dark, intense love. For that, I looked at two fictional couples.

Bianca and Sephiroth share similarities with Spike and Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as they are known for their dark, intense love. Their relationship embodies a balance of obsession, loyalty, and shared darkness, which echoes how Bianca remains devoted to Sephiroth, despite his god-like ambitions, murdering, and manipulations. Just as Drusilla finds solace in Spike, who indulges her madness as Sephiroth tends to do with Bianca, Bianca sees Sephiroth not only as her partner but the one constant in a world filled with chaos and loss, willing to walk the path of darkness beside him as his own devotion towards Bianca shows that she can be loved and cared for.

Finally, the last couple who inspired Bianca and Sephiroth the strongest are Hades and Persephone. Like Persephone, who was exiled from the world above and forced to live in the underworld after being abducted by Hades, Bianca is a fallen angel who is exiled from the Celestial Realm and will never feel the eternal moonlight on her skin, as she defied Divine Law and fell in love with the mortal Sephiroth. Sephiroth who now embodies elements of Hades in Fantasy Worlds Collide. Their connection reflects the themes of love combined with sacrifice and devotion. Sephiroth’s creation of the dreamscape for Bianca symbolizes Hades’ attempt to provide Persephone with a sanctuary, reflecting the notion that love can create a refuge amidst chaos. The pomegranate seeds are symbolized by Sephiroth’s healing of Bianca’s injuries she suffered from Noctemaris, her father’s demonic tachi, and her father. When Sephiroth told her about the state he found her in and how he healed and cared for her while searching for his origins in the Underground Library, it sealed her fate, as no one really cared for Bianca before like that.

Moreover, the complexities in their relationship highlight the depth of their emotional bond, much like Hades and Persephone’s. While Hades initially captures Persephone, his affection transforms their relationship into one defined of mutual love and respect. Similarly, Sephiroth’s internal struggle with his emotions — and the knowledge that he can’t just sever the love and bond he feels for Bianca like he could the other positive emotions he felt — he embraces his feelings for Bianca, creating a powerful dynamic that his love for Bianca can coexist with his ambitions. I believe that this mythological framework allows me to deepen their story, letting my readers free to explore the themes of power, sacrifice, and the duality of love in a nuanced manner.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@seastarblue

[tigertofu]

Heyyy! I’m very glad you’re doing requests cos your writing is AMMMAAZZZZINNNNGGGG

I’d love to see some headcanons of North Yankton Trevor with a fem!reader who does boxing🫣🫣 No worries if not! :)

TY GIRLIE <3333 and u got it! as i worked on this i discovered its difficult for me to just list off headcanons w/out some sorta story attached so i hope this like,, mini-story with headcanons interlaced throughout is ok !! ^^ ;;

pairing: fem reader/Trevor

summary: a barfight involving a stranger in a little north yankton tavern turns out to be the start of something much more.

cw's: mild, non-explicit smut

wordcount: 1,335

you'll meet him in a bar one night.

the place is a seedy little affair with concrete floors and weak lights that fill the smokey air with a buttery glow. it's the only tavern in the little podunk town you live in, and tonight, just like every night, it's filled with the usual slew of patrons. cattle farmers sleepily nurse at sweating beer bottles at the bar. railway workers sit slumped in chairs at the round tables taking up the rest of the cramped room. a lazy country song spills out of the jukebox in one corner of the room. johnny cash? bob dylan? something like that. you aren't really paying attention to the music. you're only interested in downing your beer and letting the booze warm you up a bit before you venture back out into the snowstorm and trudge the rest of your way home.

suddenly, the music stops. you look up from your seat in the corner of the bar. a man you've never seen before is fiddling with the jukebox, a cigarette drooping from his scowling mouth. you watch him, curious, because you could swear you've never seen him in town before. his dark brown hair is slicked back into a long, scraggly mullet; strands of it fall around his face. he's wearing a roadworn bomber jacket, dirty jeans, black rubber boots caked in mud. definitely not a local.

as you stare, you realize that the atmosphere of the entire bar has shifted. Mr. Mullet finally figures out how to work the jukebox. a punkish rock song begins to blare from its speakers, causing the other patrons' heads to swivel in his direction. he plants his hands on his hips and looks at it triumphantly.

a particularly burly farmer heaves himself out of his seat at the bar and trundles over to the stranger. he taps him on the shoulder. says something that you can't hear, but can tell isn't nice. Mr. Mullet snaps back at him loud enough for you to hear: something about how the previous music was about to put him to fucking sleep and that this is a "free country." the farmer doesn't back down from the stranger's posturing and, in the blink of an eye, their altercation turns physical.

for reasons you can't parse, you immediately jump to the stranger's aid. muscle memory pounded into you by years of boxing makes quick work of the drunk farmer, but not before he's able to get a few good hits in on the stranger, who fights with blind, wild passion. while the both of you reel back from him to catch your breaths, the bartender yells at you two to get the hell out of his bar. you both do, but not before the stranger calls everyone in the establishment "a bunch of braindead stick-in-the-mud yokels."

outside, you both share a cigarette, shivering in the snowfall. he tells you his name is Trevor. he asks where you learned to fight like that, and you tell him in the ring. he smiles, and despite the bruise blooming around his busted lip, you can tell it's a handsome smile. he says he likes a girl who knows how to scrap. you smile back and tell him you like his music taste. he asks what you're up to that night, and you tell him that you just want to get back to the warmth of your home at this point. he offers to walk with you, and you accept.

once you reach your place, he tries to invite himself in so he can show his "appreciation" for helping him beat the shit out of the farmer at the bar. you laugh and tell him maybe some other time. he huffs, but relents, so long as you give him your phone number. you do.

"some other time" comes around quick, because in the few days following your night in the bar you realize that you can't stop thinking about him for some reason. you invite him over; he shows up with a six pack and a grin plastered over his face. you spend an evening talking and listening to music on your old cassette player. you're delighted to find out that he likes all the same bands you do. the six pack is quickly emptied, and the both of you get a bit tipsy. at some point, he brings up the barfight again. he asks to wrestle so he can see what you're "really capable of," slurring his words, giving you a sly look. you laugh and try to tell him that wrestling is hugely different from boxing, but he insists, and you give in.

he lets you win almost immediately. the way he lets you playfully sock him in the arms without fighting back tells you that maybe he has no intention of fighting back. afterwards, as you both lay on the floor of your bedroom, catching your breaths from the little tussle as he's pinned beneath your muscular form, you notice a hungry sort of glow in his dark brown eyes. before you can ask why he's looking at you like that, he leans up and smashes his mouth against yours.

you fuck him there on the floor and it feels almost like a fight; the most satisfying fight ever, that ends with the both of you winning.

one hookup turns into two, then three, then four. soon enough, you're meeting up with Trevor regularly. he never spends the night, always slinking off sometime after you've fallen asleep. you try to learn more about him, and he freely unloads his personal history on you. he's from the "Canadian border region of America." he likes flying planes; used to be in the air force before getting discharged. when you one day ask him what he does for work, he suddenly gets cagey. tells you not to ask questions you don't want the answers to. you guess he doesn't make his money in entirely legal ways, and don't bring it up again.

a few weeks after meeting him, you invite him to the local boxing club to watch a match you've been training for. he shows up, of course, and cheers you on from the sidelines with embarrassing yet oddly adorable enthusiasm the entire time. it's a hard fight that winds on and on. by the end of it you feel like you've been thrown into a box and rolled down a hill, but still, you pull a win out of thin air. and as the ref announces you the winner, you see Trevor standing in the crowd, yelling triumphantly while others awkwardly stare at him: "That's my girl!"

you rush home with him afterwards. the entire short car ride, he can't keep his hands off of you, almost crashing the car into a snowbank on the way. the second you reach your home, he pounces on you. he rips the boxing garb off of you; passes hungry kisses over your figure before your sweat has even had a chance to dry. in bed, he worships you as you straddle him, his hands unable to stay still as they grab and rub over your muscles. he whines that he loves you, that you're amazing, that he's so lucky, over and over, and at the peak of your climax, you pant out that you love him, too.

as you both lay in a sticky heap afterwards, he kisses all the sore spots on your body: the places your opponent had gotten hits in on you. the kisses turn into unskilled but eager massages. you fall asleep, soothed by his jittery hands.

the next morning, you wake to find him still with you. in the morning glow seeping in through your bedroom window, you pass a hand over his forehead, brushing back his hair so you can see his sleeping face.

and in that moment, you decide that throwing yourself into that now-long-ago barfight was one of the best decisions you've ever made.

[fandom-blackhole]

hi :3 your jackson song as a joel fic is still rent free in my head. could you share your idea? or is it still under wraps?

mwah mwah!! 😘

You know what? You asked for this, you made me think of this fic idea again, so you're getting the full fic rn. I hope you enjoy it lmao <3 <3

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (gender/race neutral) Summary: Three times Reader sings Jackson by Johnny Cash and annoys Joel, and the one time Joel actually joins in. this is a 3+1 bc i couldn't decide which scene I had imagined for this to write so I went with all of the above (I heavily suggest listening to the song at least once, it's a great tune and will get stuck in your head lol) Warnings: contains spoilers for the show and game (bc as usual I am mixing the two together, mentions of violence and guns, really just reader being annoying to Joel, me shitting on KC (im from KS so im allowed), UNEDITED (bc i am being a bit lazy sorry) WC: 4.5k (how do all of my fics get away from me like this smh)

1

It had been a long few hours. Emotions were a little high and tension was a bit thick. Neither you nor Joel had been expecting what you found when you finally got to Bill and Frank’s small town. You’d expected a smile and hug from Frank and grumpy complaining from Bill over bringing an outsider, let alone a kid to his town. You’d expected to see Frank take to Ellie and want to show her around, clean her up and feed her like he loved to do. You’d expected to find two of the few you allowed yourself to call friends. Instead you found quiet emptiness, dead flowers, and a note that had your heart breaking for the second time in so many days. Tess' death still heavy on your heart, now had the company of losing Bill and Frank.

So when the first notes softly floated from the speakers of the truck Bill left Joel, you had to do a double take, a grin quickly lighting up your face as you jumped forward in your seat and turned up the radio. The words you knew by heart, the song one of your mother’s favorites, so at the exact time Joel turned to you in question, you grinned widely at him and sang along, “We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout.”

With a huff Joel whispered to himself an exasperated, “Christ,” but you carried on.

“We’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out.”

You could hear Ellie behind you laughing to herself as Joel shook his head. You didn’t let up, though, you kept singing and pulling laughs from Ellie, making sure to put emphasis on the way you sang every time Jackson was mentioned. You made sure to put on a show as the song switched back and forth between the duet, deepening your voice and acting all suave while Johnny Cash sang and all smooth and flirty during June Carter’s parts.

By the time the song was over, you were a bit breathless from your antics and Ellie was doubled over in the back seat of the truck laughing at you and clapping for you. Joel, though, simply reached over and turned the radio back down til the next song was just barely heard over Ellie's wheezing and the sound of the truck’s engine. 

Turning to Joel with a giant grin, you see him simply shaking his head. So you tilted your head at him, as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well? What did you think of my once in a lifetime performance,” you asked with a teasing grin.

Joel simply huffed, “It was, uh, somethin’.”

With faux pride you close your eyes with a nod and confidently say, “Thank you, I worked very hard on that you know. Gonna be singing on the big stage one day.”

That drew a chuckle out of Joel as he grinned and said, “I look forward to seein’ it.”

2

Kansas City looked a bit worse for wear than you had expected. Though you probably should have really expected this, the rumors that floated around about the city were not favorable. Of all of the cities and FEDRA run quarantine zones it was well known that Kansas City was one of the worst and you better off trying to survive on your own rather try and find refuge within the city. Honestly though it's not too surprising the quarantine zone ended up the way it did, the city was situated in the ass crack of Missouri and Kansas afterall. 

You were however caught off guard when you found that the Kansas City FEDRA had finally toppled and the city had been taken over by a group of hunters who were more than happy to use what the soldiers had left behind after their deaths. The hunter were still crafty with their environment, you had to give them that. 

The crash had left all three of you disoriented. You had not expected the bus that they had let loose on the truck and you highly doubted Joel had expected it either. When the truck crashed into the convenience store you were thrown forward, smashing you head into the dash so hard spots formed in your eyes and you could feel a piece of glass dig into the skin right above your left eye. 

After that things kind of passed in a blur for you. You knew there was a fight and you knew that you had shot at a few guys, though you kind of doubted that you actually managed to hit either with how disoriented you were. Once it was safe for the moment, Joel raced to check on you and Ellie, shoving your bags into your arms. Ellie as it turned out was no worse for wear because she’d been ducked down in the backseat out of sight of the hunters, and your only injuries were from the crash, a small gash on your forehead and a mild concussion from Joel’s estimate.

The three of you didn’t really have time to waste on first aid at that moment, so you’d simply pressed a bandana you had to you head and motioned to a large building a little ways away, whispering, “That’s probably our safest bet right now, we’ll get me fixed up once we know we are all safe.”

Joel had only hesitated for a second before agreeing. He led you and Ellie carefully to the building, safely making sure the three of you stayed out of sight. Once inside, you found that the building was an old hotel, and a nice one at that.

You quietly whistled and said, “This place is nice, could only dream of coming to a place like this before the outbreak.”

Joel just grunted as he looked around for useful things, finding a safe as he replayed, “Isn’t exactly nice anymore.”

You leaned against the counter beside where he was crouched trying to crack the safe and watched as Ellie looked around the lobby with an interest only a child could have. Sighing you shrugged and glanced over your shoulder as you heard the door creak open and replied, “I don’t know. If the outbreak did anything it did bring a certain beauty to the world. There’s something poetically beautiful in the sight of nature reclaiming what once belonged to it.”

Walking around the counter, Joel stood in front of you with a brow raised and shook his head, “Maybe that concussion is worse than I thought if you’re gettin’ all philosophical on me.”

With a huffed laugh you  rolled your eyes and just nodded to the stairs, “Come on.”

Your progression upward went smoothly until the fourth floor where per your group’s usual luck you found the stairs blocked with all kinds of debris. You never thought you would miss stairs, but as you picked your way through the floor scouting for a way up you wished that just once the three of you would pick a building that had a simple straightforward way to the top. 

You were pulled from your melancholic thoughts by Ellie’s raised voice, “Found a way up!”

You were a little thankful to be pulled away from your thoughts, the action slowly making the ever present headache since the crash throb. Quickly as possible you made your way across the hallway to the room Ellie had been looking through and smiled when you found a concert room with a stage and a beautiful grand piano. You made your way to the stage, noticing the way up Ellie found was on the corner of the stage where the above balcony’s railing had fallen. Gently you ran your fingers over the piano, a little sad to see such a magnificent creation in such disrepair. Looking up to Ellie who stood on the other side you made your way around and hip bumped her. 

“You know how to play?”

Ellie laughed and turned to you with a look that screamed she was judging you as she replied, “You really think they’d teach us to play piano in FEDRA school? Let alone find one that actually works,” she shook her head and slowly made her way to the edge of the stage, jumping down. “What about you? You play?”

You hummed and ran your fingers over the keys, cringing at the awful out of tune melody that played. You were stopped from answering though as your fingers fell upon an old rusted microphone. Picking it up you smiled and looked up right as Joel walked into the room. Instantly you laughed, and your grin spread as your eyes met Joel's stoic hazel.

Gently you twirled to the center of the stage, a little dizzy from the sudden movements, but didn’t let it deter you. Looking up at your crowd you heard Joel ask Ellie, “What on Earth are they doing?”

You saw Ellie answer with a shrug and that's when you started to sing the opening notes of the song you had been annoying Joel with for weeks. Ellie laughed and Joel tried protesting but you just carried on. You let yourself get carried away singing the lyrics and making a fool of yourself on stage with your poor excuse of dancing. 

It didn’t take Joel long to make his way to the stage, to stop you or figure out how to reach the balcony on the second floor you weren’t sure, but if you had to put money on it you’d guess both. The second he was within reach you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you as you sang, “Go play your hand, you big talkin’ man. Make a big fool of yourself.”

Rolling his eyes Joel pulled away and you let him go only a second later as you spun yourself again the dizziness became too much and you found yourself stumbling with a gasp. Thankfully Joel had been close enough and had caught you before you fell and hit your head again on the stage.

He led you over to the piano bench and sat you down, taking the microphone from you as he said, “Sit and rest, before you hurt yourself more. Not exactly smart jumping and twirling around with a fresh concussion, nor making a bunch of noise when we are supposed to be keeping a low profile so we aren’t found by those hunters.”

With a sigh you just pouted, over not being able to finish your song but you listened to him and sat there and watched as Joel and Ellie pushed the grand piano over to the wall and watched as Ellie used it to jump up to the next floor. Joel followed but turned to you after getting onto the piano, motioning like he was going to help you up, which he did and then helped boost you to the next floor even if you didn’t need it, getting the feeling he was coddling you now.

Once he was up next to you again, you turned to him with a faux pout, “You said you looked forward to seeing me perform on a stage.”

With a huff, Joel gave you a look that said he was already tired of this situation and only replied, “Do it again when you aren’t a danger to yourself or the rest of us.”

3

Joel was infallible. At least you had always thought he was. He was the best survivor you knew, there was no question as to why he had gotten this far into the apocalypse, he just knew how to take care of himself and protect those around him. You had seen him get scrapes and bruises from fights and a couple of grazes from near misses from bullets. Never could you imagine that the man you held on such a high pedestal could fall as heavily as he had. You never thought you’d have to watch the man you’d found yourself caring for whole heartedly almost bleed out before your eyes. 

But here you are, watching him shiver from the cold and no doubt from the pain wracking his body. Watching him sleep in fits and gazing into glazed eyes when he was barely awake. It was hard to watch, but you tried to be strong for Ellie’s sake. You sometimes would catch her staring at Joel’s fitful body, worry echoing on her face before she threw up a wall on her emotions. You didn’t want to admit it, but of the two she was more helpful. She’d been more successful with finding food and hunting than you have been. Ellie is also the one that had managed to find and bring back the full stocked and sterile first aid kit that you’d used to suture and clean Joel’s wound with, even if the supplies hadn’t done too much for his weakening state. You had found that your main use was only keeping the three of you on track to Salt Lake City and acting as a nurse to Joel, getting him to drink water or broth without drowning him, something Ellie found she didn’t really have the patience or the bedside manner to do. 

Still you hid your worries, and shared optimistic thoughts with Ellie during the day even if you didn’t truly believe them yourself.You like to believe you’re helping Ellie by doing this, but in truth you think she’s doing the same for you, just putting on a brave face to make you feel better. 

Each night the two of you would take turns taking watch, Ellie always going first, insisting you get rest and not truly trusting you to wake her for the second watch- which was fair because the one time she had agreed to let you take first watch you hadn’t had the heart to wake the exhausted girl to which she’d given you the silent treatment for the next day. 

It was only during your watches, once you knew for sure Ellie was asleep, her breaths evening out and her body relaxing, that you allowed your mask to slip, to let your worries out. Each night that passed you swore Joel got paler, that he looked closer to death’s door. You hate watching him wither away like this, hate seeing the strongest person you know, your rock in this world, fall and not be able to help him even though your heart screams at you. You have found yourself sobbing helplessly into your hand in attempts to stay quiet a few times, the hurt and worry building up inside you until it exploded. You hated that you felt weak, but truely what could you do when your strength lay slowly dying on a nasty old twin sized mattress? 

Tonight though the tears don’t come. Instead you find yourself feeling empty in your grief as you sit beside Joel’s head gently combing your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. You weren’t sure if it was meant to sooth Joel or yourself, but either way the action seemed to be grounding you and it could be your imagination but it seemed that Joel’s face seemed somewhat more relaxed so you didn’t stop. 

You aren’t sure when, but you caught yourself humming at some point and you couldn’t help but smile and jokingly think to yourself, ‘if anything is going to get a reaction out of him, it’ll be hearing me annoy him with this song again.’

You let yourself hum it a few times, making sure to stay quiet, not wanting to wake Ellie who’d become somewhat of a light sleeper, but eventually you had to laugh and whisper, “Yeah, go to Jackson, and go comb your hair,” as you ran your fingers through Joel’s hair. 

You let yourself sing a few more lines, not really paying attention to anything but where your fingers continued their path through his hair, so you were surprised when you felt your free hand, which you had just had laying on Joel’s chest, be enclosed in a rougher calloused hand. Pausing your singing you looked down in surprise and found Joel’s lips turned upward just slightly, and his hand enveloping your own in a loose hold. 

With a watery smile, knowing that just moving his hand had to have had taken a lot of energy from him, so you clutched it tighter in your hold as you turned back to running your fingers through his hair as you whispered to him, “Yeah, you go to Jackson, you big talkin’ man. And I’ll be waitin’ in Jackson,” before trailing back off into a hum. 

4

It was over, all of it was finally over. The fireflies were gone, something you would never have to worry about again. Joel was strong again, Ellie was safe, and all three of you were all back in Jackson settling down and making a home for yourselves with Tommy and Maria and all of the townsfolk. And you couldn’t be happier. Everything in life just felt right for the first time since the outbreak. It was odd in a way, but it was so freeing that you didn’t care. You never could have let yourself dream about a life like this, of having a family like this that you could allow yourself to care for. You didn’t think something like this would ever be allowed to live, to thrive in a world so torn apart by a deadly infection and the worst of humanity. But you found it, and you let yourself bask in it. You let yourself be happy.

When the three of you all arrived back in Jackson it had taken a while for each of you to all settle in and relax. It was so foreign after spending months fighting and protecting each other's backs from every danger imaginable. Ellie had taken about a month to situate herself in the town, finding it a bit easier with teens her age being so interested in being her friend and getting to know her as the new kid in town. She settled into the garage and made it her own. Watching her have her own space was a little hard after having her in your sights 24/7 for so long, but you knew she needed it, that she deserved it after everything she went through. You and Joel stayed in the house together, both unwilling to be to far from the teen after everything that went down in Salt Lake City at the hospital and finding the bond between the two of you keeping you together. You each had your own rooms though Joel’s only got used every once in a while, many nights bringing him to your room when your nightmares wake him up. His own nightmares occasionally brought him to you as well, as he found comfort in not being alone, in waking up to find you laying there with soft breaths next to him.

Joel took about a little over a month to settle into the community but once Tommy got him in on the patrol board, he immediately found his place. Letting Joel have some control over where and how the patrols went allowed him to feel a sense of peace. It played into his strong suit of needing to know that the people he cared about were safe and taken care of. Seeing Joel let himself relax and fill the role really warmed your heart, happy to know Joel was finally at peace after so many years of functioning just in fight-or-flight mode. 

You, though, took the longest to find your place in Jackson. You didn’t slack, you jumped from job to job filling any empty position in any area that they would let you, but the truth was you didn’t have a strength or a useful skill that could be applied somewhere within the town. You could hunt, but you were not the best at it. You were decent at growing things but the greenhouse didn’t really need anymore volunteers. And while you did love children you neither had the patience or the knowledge to be teaching. So as time passed and Joel and Ellie found their rhythms in the town you found yourself feeling like you were floundering a bit, drowning in a pool of water where your feet should be touching the ground. It wasn’t until you were doing a patrol with Joel a few months after settling back in Jackson that he brought up that the doctor in town was looking to train a new nurse. He had brought it up nonchalantly, but you could tell by the way he glanced out of the corner of his eye that he had a reason behind bringing it up. Later you managed to weasel it out of him, to which he simply replied, “I may not have been all there, but I remember how well you played nurse for me. I think you’d be good at it.”

He had been right of course, you had taken to the position like a duck to water and within no time you found yourself finding your own path in Jackson, letting yourself finally fall into content happiness that Joel and Ellie had also found. In no time at all the three of you all found yourself falling into a routine, each of you revolving around the other two and finding ways to still stay close and not get too busy to not be able to know what the others were up to. Your favorite day in the routine was every three days you’d all have a family meal, Tommy and Maria joining the three of you every other meal.

It was on one of those nights that Joel had come home late from his patrol. You had already started making dinner and had simply shooed him upstairs to take a shower while you finished cooking, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Ellie burst in the back door groaning about being starving. 

You weren’t sure how long Joel took to get cleaned up, you had zoned out into your thoughts shortly after hearing the shower turn on, but after what you knew only had to have been a handful of minutes you heard him coming back downstairs, and when he came into the kitchen you simply motioned to the table, asking if he’d set it for you as you had dinner already almost finished. 

You however didn’t expect to hear Joel turn on your little portable CD player on the counter and skip through the songs as he said, “Found you something’ while on patrol today.”

You hummed in question, curiosity over taking you as you glanced over your shoulder at him before turning back to stirring what you were cooking. Only a few seconds later you paused as the all to familiar notes floated around the kitchen and a soft smile found its way onto your face. Gently you started swaying as you cooked, but almost as soon as you had started you found a pair of arms wrapped around your middle as Joel pulled you away from the stove, as his deep accented voice sang, “We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson ever since the fire went out. I’m goin’ to Jackson, I’m gonna mess around. Yeah I’m goin’ to Jackson, look out Jackson town.”

Laughing joyfully you join in right as June Carter does and turn to face Joel sticking your spoon in his face as you back up towards the stove to turn it down as you sang, “Well, go on down to Jackson. Go ahead and wreck your health. Go play your hand, you big talkin’ man, Make a big fool of yourself. Yeah, go to Jackson, go comb your hair.”

With a grin Joel grabs the spoon from your hand, laying it on the spoon rest, before grabbing your hand as he picked up his part of the duet once more, “Honey, I’m gonna snowball Jackson, see if I care. When I breese into that city, people gonna stoop and bow. All them women gonna make me teach ‘em what they don’t know how. I’m going to Jackson. You turn ‘n’ loosen my coat, ‘cause I’m goin’ to Jackson.”

Swaying in Joel’s arms as he sang was perfect and you wished more than anything that you could pause time right there and just enjoy this for all eternity. As his part finished once more, Joel twirled you, which you used to sway away from him as you came in singing, “”Goodbye,” that’s all she wrote. But they’ll laugh at you in Jackson and I’ll be dancin’ on a Pony Keg. They’ll lead you ‘round town like the scalded hound, with your tail hooked between your legs. Yeah, go to Jackson, you big talkin’ man. And I’ll be waitin’ in Jackson behind my Jaypan fan.”

You managed to stay out of Joel’s reach until the end laughing as the two of you joined together twirling and dancing around as you sang together.

“Well, now, we got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson ever since the fire went out. I’m goin’ to Jackson and that’s a fact. Yeah, we’re going to Jackson, ain’t never comin’ back.”

Joel’s grin was bigger than you’ve ever seen, your happiness radiating off eachother as he swung you out and brought you back in as the two of you finished the song together, eyes never leaving the other’s, “Well, we go married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. Honey, we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson ever since the fire went out.”

At the very end Joel surprised you by dipping you low, which pulled a loud gasping laugh from you before he pressed a small kiss to your lips before pulling you back up. You couldn’t wipe the grin off of your face once you were back on your feet, not even when two sets of claps came from the doorway along with a quick retching noise. Whipping your head around you felt yourself heat up in embarrassment to see Tommy and Maria standing there grinning at the two of you while Ellie wrinkled her nose and called the two of you gross.

  “Hope the two of you didn’t burn our dinner while you were too busy being all lovey dovey,” Ellie griped while plopping down into her seat at the table.

“As a matter of fact I turned the stove off at the beginning of the song, so don’t worry, your food will be just fine,” you replied carrying the pot to the table as Joel passed around plates and silverware, taking it from you once you reached the table with a soft loving smile which you returned, making Ellie groan about losing her appetite even though she was smiling. All the while Tommy and Maria simply enjoyed the entertainment, though Maria did lean over and whisper, “Why can’t you be romantic, like that?”

To which Tommy grinned and simply replied while filling her glass with water, “You want me to try?”

With a sigh, Maria met his gaze and said, “No, I’m not sure I can hand whatever you think would be romantic.”

[abbatoirablaze]

Fire & Ice, Chapter 1

Word Count:  654

“And in other news, the Fantastic Four, led by Dr. Reed Richards, has saved the city again!” the reporter blathered on over the tv.  Johnny’s eyes rolled as he played on his phone.  One of the numerous ‘storm sluts,’ as his loving sister had called them, was starting her normal barrage of text messages to him, undoubtedly after seeing the four plastered all over the news.  

“Next!”

He barely looked up as he ordered his double shot.

“Five twenty!”

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, looking up as he pocketed his phone.  But it missed his pocket when he focused on you, “Five twenty for a double shot?  What are you doing?  Harvesting the beans yourself?”

You looked bewildered by his small outburst, shocked at how his voice had seemed to have risen above the thrum of the busy shop. 

“I-I don’t make the prices, sir…” you said slowly, “but if you don’t like the prices, you could always buy the stuff to make it at home.  Plus, I’m pretty sure Starbucks charges more so, maybe it’s just me, but you’re being awfully picky about prices.”  

“Oh my god, that’s Johnny Storm!”

“You’re Johnny Storm!”

“Let me buy your coffee, Mr. Storm!”

Suddenly, the thrum of people seemed to recognize him, all at once.  And normally while he lived for those little moments of extra fame, he found himself slightly annoyed by it.

Why hadn’t you recognized him first?

Why had you chastised his comment instead of falling at his feet?

You were barely looking at him as someone else tossed the cash at you for his drink, and he half-attentively signed some things for the people who wanted it. 

“I’m just like all of you!” he said quickly, smiling as he pushed his way through the small crowd of caffeine addicts, “just here for a morning coffee…”

“Double shot!”

His eyes snapped to yours yet again. 

You hadn’t called him by his name like you had with everyone else.

“It’s Johnny!”

“You never said anything when I asked for your name!  And I don’t have the time to wait while you sign things for your adoring fans,” you replied, passing off the cup and quickly making your way back to the register.  He rotated it in his hand, searching for the number which usually accompanied a coffee any time he stopped for some caffeine, but found himself frowning when it was devoid of writing, sans the order.

“Your number?”

“I don’t give out my number to customers!  Superhero or not!” you said with a shake of your head.  He stood there in his own shock as you continued about your business and fans greeted him with pictures and more things to sign.

Was he losing his touch?

And so, he continued his routine of going to the coffee shop just a few blocks from the Baxter Building over the next few weeks, hoping that you’d change your mind when you saw him.  And every day, someone would pay for his coffee, and you wouldn’t use his name.  And he’d try anything, everything he could think of to get you to smile. 

He’d do little tricks where he’d snap his fingers and light a flame for other baristas to warm their milk for their lattes.

He would offer to instantly roast the coffee beans when you used that as an excuse to get away from him. 

But then he noticed something. 

One day when Sue had asked that he pick up an iced, blended coffee for her.

You didn’t use the blender to make Sue’s blended drink.

And his jaw dropped when he realized that you were a mutant. 

And that you’d handed him the drink, perfectly blended into a slush, by simply shaking it in one of the shakers.

“You-your-“

“I know what I am, double-shot!” you said quickly, handing him the drink for himself, and the drink for Sue, “see you tomorrow…”

Tag List:  @designatednewbie, @elbell20-blog, @lohnes16

[fritextramole]

shattered edges glisten

part 4 of a Jenny Humphrey playlist - best heard in order

tracklist and quotes under the cut

Bringing Me Down ~ Maya Hawke

I have lied, I've lied and hidden I've done things they deem forbidden They're small crimes if you look around So I must be weak if they're bringing me down

mirrorball ~ Taylor Swift

I'll show you every version of yourself tonight I'll get you out on the floor Shimmering beautiful And when I break it's in a million pieces

Liability ~ Lorde

They're gonna watch me disappear into the sun You're all gonna watch me disappear into the sun

vampire ~ Olivia Rodrigo

I see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes Six months of torture you sold as some forbidden paradise

Disenchanted ~ My Chemical Romance

I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree

25 ~ The Pretty Reckless

At 25, all hope has died And the glass of my intentions turns to sand And shatters in my hand

You're Dead ~ Norma Tanega

You'll never get a second chance Plan all your moves in advance Stay dead, stay dead, stay dead Stay dead and outta this world

dead girl in the pool. ~ girl in red

I'm the dead girl in the pool I'm the dead girl in the pool I'm the dead girl in the pool I can't stop staring at my face My summer tan has begun to fade Is this real or is this fake? A creepy dream I can't escape

Zombie ~ The Pretty Reckless

Hello, hello, how low will you push me? To go, to go, to go, before I lie down dead

Rue ~ girl in red

I rеmember you stayed up all night To make sure I was alright Believe me when I say I would have done the same

Viva La Vida ~ Coldplay

It was a wicked and wild wind Blew down the doors to let me in Shattered windows and the sound of drums People couldn't believe what I'd become

Nothing New ~ Taylor Swift, Phoebe Bridgers

I've had too much to drink tonight But I wonder if they'll miss me once they drive me out I wake up in the middle of the night And I can feel time moving

everything i wanted ~ Billie Eilish

I tried to scream But my head was underwater They called me weak Like I'm not just somebody's daughter Coulda been a nightmare But it felt like they were right there

Funeral ~ Phoebe Bridgers

And I have this dream where I'm screaming underwater While my friends are waving from the shore And I don't need you to tell me what that means I don't believe in that stuff anymore

Luna Moth ~ Maya Hawke

To watch you smile at an ugly thing To try to ease my guilt Watch you looking at a broken wing Like it could be rebuilt

You’re On Your Own Kid ~ Taylor Swift

I called a taxi to take me there I searched the party of better bodies Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare You're on your own, kid You always have been

Good Guy ~ Julia Jacklin

Come on, breathe in, breathe out You're still a good guy Tell me I'm the love of your life, just for a night Even if you don't feel it Tell me I'm everything that you could find And you don't wanna waste it

Hurt ~ Johnny Cash

What have I become My sweetest friend? Everyone I know Goes away in the end And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt

Second Child, Restless Child ~ The Oh Hellos

See, I was born the second child With a spirit running wild, running free And they saw trouble in my eyes They were quick to recognize the devil in me

Last Words of a Shooting Star ~ Mitski

They'll never know how I'd stared at the dark in that room With no thoughts,like a blood-sniffing shark

Reach Out ~ Sufjan Stevens, Angelo De Augustine

I would rather be a flower than the ocean And I held myself as something of an innovation I would rather be devoured than be broken

Misguided Ghosts ~ Paramore

Now I'm told that this is life And pain is just a simple compromise So we can get what we want out of it Would someone care to classify Our broken hearts and twisted minds So I can find someone to rely on

Bastards ~ Kesha

Been underestimated my entire life I know people gonna talk shit And darlin', that's fine But they won’t break my spirit I won’t let 'em win I’ll just keep on living

Beam Me Up ~ Matt Berry

No idea what the hell I'm meant to do Help me, I'm over I'm desperate and I'm nowhere

to Perth, before the border closes ~ Julia Jacklin

I loved it there That city held me Don't you know that everything changes?

[mojavepumpkin]

"so we beat on, like boats against the current. borne back ceaselessly into the past." (cliche, i know but i can't get over that line)

sunday, march 3rd

haven't written in a while, haven't had my computer in a while. left it home when we went to fernandina. it was a good weekend. i was on my phone more than i'd like to have been, the weather was worse than i'd have liked it to have been. still managed to walk 12ish miles, all in all. the weather wasnt so bad when it wasnt raining. cooler than normal, especially sunday. saturday was nicer, walked 9 miles. had a conversation with a man in a silly hat selling free advice. he was nice but i dont feel all that helped, i still appreciate the conversation.

i am disturbed by my lack of preparedness for this literary thing. i have no idea what's going on, what im really doing, who even is running it. oh well, it can only help me i spose. or i could embarrass myself, but i guess i shouldnt get too hung up on that.

i might be getting a new car, or should i say, old truck. which is exciting. this summer. my car is the most expensive out of all of our cars, it was originally mom's and she gave it to me. the insurance is super high, so once we pay it off (in june), we can sell it and get something thats cheaper for me. it just so happens that i have a cheap taste in cars- or trucks. anyway, i hope we'll be able to find a 1998-2011 ford ranger. a tiny little truck for lil ole me.

anyway. im considering deleting youtube. it's tough. it's definitely my most used social media, and i can say 100% that it has made me better and more informed. if you can call it social media. but its also a big "crutch". eating food? watch youtube. getting ready in the morning? watch youtube. cleaning my room? watch youtube (this one is more understandable.)

given it more thought. i will delete it as an experiment. i think i need to learn how to practice mindfulness instead of consuming content every waking moment of my life. i need a book on it, maybe. definitely.

my mind feels very busy at the moment. let me think. the tv is very loud. i feel very hot. my room is dirty. okay. breathe.

what will happen tomorrow? anything of note? not that i can think of, i might make plans. that could be nice. i like keeping myself busy. i wish i could've figured out plans with J today, but nothing materialized - i just went outside by myself. i haven't read very much. but i haven't been on my phone very much. so i guess i've been doing things. i dont have any homework due. i dont have work tomorrow. i should be happy. i need to return a book to the library, and i cant think of anything else i need to do.

tomorrow might be a good day to walk. i'll speak to some folks. i'm trying to incorporate some more southernness into my speaking voice. idk, i'd like to feel like my voice is some kind of connection to the place from which i originate. i tried so hard to get rid of it, now i dont have it all and want it back. thats life.

despite not having known him for very long or very intimately i see a lot of my grandfather in myself. he has become sort of a kindred spirit i spose, for myself. maybe i do believe in the afterlife, i can still kind of feel him. maybe thats the afterlife we get, the feeling we leave with people. even though he isnt my biological grandfather, he was the only grandfather i knew on that side of my family that i ever knew. and now is certainly the only positive father like figure there. maybe all of those parts of him that are in me now are like little shrines i've built so that he can live on. our love of johnny cash, western movies, ford rangers, and straight-edge shaving. maybe i should start fishing more seriously, honestly i've thought about it often. i'd like to go fishing with a buddy. i just need a pole and some know-how, or my friend being the know-how could work too. i love him very much now, even though he is somewhat of a stranger to me. he loved my grandma, i can see that. i read one of their letters and was moved to tears. life is something incredible.

[formosusiniquis]

i am so predictable but i always want to hear more abt fake dating 💕

So the most important thing to know is that once upon a time there was this post going around on tumblr.com about how the scene in a fake dating au where the couple spends an extremely intimate time role playing how they got together and every date they've ever had is completely unnecessary because most people will hear someone say hey this is my partner and ask max 2 more questions and it diverged into jokes about breaking up couples that don't know anything about the other.

The second most important thing to know is that Steve's parents are lavender married and while he doesn't know it know it but he's pretty sure. So he's gonna pretend to date Eddie about it, because in his ultimate wisdom he figures if his parents see someone being queer and happy in the 80's they'll get a divorce and stop being so miserable all the time.

The third most important thing to know is I personally think Steve's dad looks like if you bulked out David Duchovny and his mom is a soft butch who goes by Lu when she isn't being Mrs. Lucinda Harrington.

And here is some Steve and Robin vs Eddie dialogue that I don't think I've shared before?

“Wait,” she throws her hands up in front of her, turning to Eddie with her eyes open wide, “did you wear your bandana! Is that why she liked you so fast?” Steve reacts first, better at following the strings backward in Robin’s train of thought. “He wasn't flagging when he met my parents! Christ, Robin, give him some credit.” “I wore a button down for Christ's sake,” “He looked like Johnny Cash,” Steve says that like a secret meant just for Robin, but he can’t whisper worth a damn. When he leans over, much too far into Robin’s space Eddie knows the next bit is for them both, “And I would have taken it anyway, that would have really made it look fake. Bringing home a boy is one thing, a metal head is pushing it, but flagging as a sado top looking like that?”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, I’ve seen this post come around a few times and have some stuff to add to it. First of all, I agree with everything in it. Well almost everything, I do think Hank Jr. is a bit of a dick. But to each their own, reasonable people can disagree on that. Hank Williams Jr. makes country music that I mostly don’t love, but it’s definitely country music and lots of people like it.

I have liked his son, the grandson of the original Hank Williams, who performs as Hank III. I used to absolutely love this song until I realized how easily it can be taken an anthem for terrible people (and I still kind of love it, just with the heavy caveat that I would like to distance myself from every single other person who’s ever enjoyed it):

(Actually I just listened to it for the first time in a while and fuck, I forgot how much of it is white nationalist dog whistle. God damn it. I would like to hugely distance myself from everything to do with it, actually. But I used to enjoy it so much.)

Anyway. What I want to say is, there is still good country music out there. And not just the occasional song or artist that you can uncover if you look hard enough. The tradition that can be traced back to Hank Williams (Sr.), into the Highwaymen (a supergroup consisting of Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, and Willie Nelson, they put out two albums as a group and they’re both excellent)-era people, did continue. It never ended. It just stopped being on the radio.

Exactly how and why and, importantly, when this happened is complicated. Country music is like all other art, in that in all its eras, lots of people have talked about how it’s not what it used to be. I recently heard an interview from 2003 in which Andy Zaltzman and Stewart Lee said it’s tough to do good satire anymore because reality is more ridiculous than anything they can make up. 2003.

Country music is like that too. Waylon Jennings released a song in 1975 called Are You Sure Hank Done it this Way, about how then-current country music had got too commercial and away from its roots that were created by Hank Williams (Sr.) in the 40s and 50s. Kenny Rogers released The Gambler in 1978, and years later, said he regretted putting out something that started a trend of more pop-oriented country, once he saw where his trend had led.

Having said that, I think even with some historical perspective, it’s fair to say that in the 00s, country radio took a hard turn for the pop-influenced, the commercial, and the ‘Murica Fuck Yeah bullshit. To the point where I would argue that it turned into something that’s more pop than country, and doesn’t count as country music at all anymore. Why do I get to say Kenny Rogers was pop-influenced country but Luke Bryan was just pop music incorrectly marketed as country? For many reasons that I used to spent ages discussing in the comments sections of country music blogs, when I was really into those. No need to get into all that here, but the point is that I think there’s some justification for saying that what got big on country music radio around the 00s crossed over to the point where it’s fair to call it just pop music, rather than bad country music.

I often try to avoid mentioning the name of the sport I coach on here (not because I want it to be a secret, just because I don’t want that word appearing all over my blog so I’ll start appearing in searches for it), but at this point it’s relevant to say I coach wrestling. I see the Luke Bryans of the world as similar to the WWE. The WWE isn’t a bad version of the sport of wrestling. It’s a completely different thing, that co-opted our name even though the sport’s been here for thousands of years so they should really get their own fucking name. I hate that when I say I do wrestling, people think I mean jumping off ropes and throwing chairs at people. For the same reason, I hate that when I say I like country music, people think I mean that ‘Murica Fuck Yeah Luke Bryan bullshit. Because that’s not just a bad version of it, that isn’t it. It’s something else that gets inaccurately called country.

But country music does still exist, and it’s not even that hard to find. People never stopped making country music. There’s lots of recent actual country out there - good country music and bad country music. Country music that appeals to my subjective tastes (John Moreland) and country music that doesn’t (Hank Williams Jr.). The genre of the Highwaymen and the late great John Prine didn’t stop just because around 9/11, they stopped putting it on the radio and replaced it with some other mislabeled bullshit.

Here’s just a tiny taste of some good stuff from the twenty-first century:

If you want something that explicitly isn’t all ‘Murica Fuck Yeah, here’s a song by my favourite currently touring country singer (that would be Jason Isbell, my favourite all-time country singer is Kris Kristofferson and everyone should look both of them up) that he wrote in 2017 to show support for the anti-Trump protesters:

Jason Isbell also announced in 2020 that if Joe Biden won his home state of Georgia in the presidential election, he’d make an album that consisted entirely of covers of songs by artists from Georgia. Biden did win that state, and Isbell did release the album, and it was awesome. All proceeds from that album’s release went to various charities. If that doesn’t make you feel slightly better about humanity, what will?

Everyone may *think* they hate country music, but when Jolene, Before He Cheats, Take Me Home Country Roads, or Life is a Highway comes on, everyone is suddenly a liar.

[wilsons-journey]

🎼 Valefor - Music Prompts🎼

Music Prompts Template --- (All Songs link to Youtube!)

... THEIR BACKSTORY? The old witch sleep and the good man grace - The amazing devil

... THEIR PERSONALITY? Jekyll and Hyde - Adam Jensen Villain - MISSIO

... THEIR ANGST? Hurt - Johnny Cash Mad World - Palaya Royala

... THEIR COMFORT? Here’s a Health to the Company - The Longest Johns

... THEIR LOVE LIFE? Sea meets earth - Fever Fever

... A FIGHT SCENE? Warrior - Disturbed

---

Some Lore / explanation below the cut:

Their Backstory: “I'm all yours, but you're all mine Let's dance together, you and I 'Cause I'm not trapped with you, you see You're the one who's trapped with me

'Cause I've been here so many times before Don't you think I look pretty Curled up on this bathroom floor? But where you see weakness I see wit Sometimes I fall to pieces Just to see what bits of me don't fit”

When you face death so many times, you start to embrace it - challange it. And sometimes even yearn for it.

Valefor has faced many close calls in his life. But still he seemed to stubborn just to die. But it shaped him and left it’s scars.

---

Their Personality “Am I a villain or a saint? Let me lead the way Resting bitch face on the move, fuck you have to say? I know I am tough as a stone I've lived a lot of life that not a lot will understand The type of life that gives you scars before you take command I know I am tough as a stone“ - MISSIO, Villain

Sometimes you have do to things, no one will understand and make you seem as someone evil. But what is evil and good in the eyes of others?

Valefor is a person of grey. He neither sees himself as good or evil. But he understands how people see his actions.

The whole “Jekyl and Hyde” just describes Valefors two very differend sides.The joyful Vagabund and the merciless Assassion.

---

Their Angst “And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad That dreams in which I'm dying, are the best I've ever had I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take When people run in circles it's a very very mad world, mad world“

Sometimes you just want to close your eyes and rest in peace. But it’s a mad world, we must keep going. Nothing will change if we give up. But sometimes,... sometimes the world just weights to heavy.

As I mentioned in a little Comic, Valefor works for someone who he can’t escape. He hates it, but he has no choice. The only escape is death. And so Valefor someday decided, if he just had enough of everything he will take Israfil with him - killing them both. But the moment Valefor met Kying and lost his heart to this old warrior,... this plan changed. Now he will get free alive.

Their comfort “Our ship lies at anchor, she's ready to dock I wish her safe landing, without any shock If ever I should meet you by land or by sea I will always remember your kindness to me“

We have to say many goodbye’s in our lives. But the memories and the kindness - that I will cherish forever and never forget.

Their love life “And I could feel the breaking of my cold stone heart was about to begin The moment that we, locked eyes Now everywhere you go my eyes follow close I'm just waitin' for the time to be right To tell you how I've loved you for a while“

Love is a dangerous game. It gives a lot,... makes you strong. But it can break you. It can break you a lot,...

Well,... he never thought he would feel love again. But he is quite afraid of that. Because if Kying ever would betray him, that for sure would break Valefor once and for all.

Fight Scene “Come on bring it, don't sing it, better believe it Broken down till your hope has died Beat down till victory's mine Stand up and show me some pride And now are you ready?”

Valefor never grew up in a traditional Fahrar. With some other Charr he was solely raised to fight and serve. Far far away from home.

So this song could be a view into his head or what he got taught. > You are a Warrior. You have to fight until you win. Losing is no option.

And thats was Valefor does - fight. In every aspect of his life. Be it against real people or just his own inner demons.