#guide to Led Zeppelin

[joy-of-jamming]

Lesson 26 - Play 8 - Open Chords - D Major - Learn How to Play Guitar

[nevertoparadise]

the ultimate girl blogger guide

disclaimer: these are my own personal preferences. this “guide” is supposed to be a fun little board where I recollect all my favourite little things and connect them all together. this could be used for inspiration to anyone who wishes to understand the life of a rotting girl blogger with daddy issues who’s addicted to cinema and music (aka me). this is actually just an excuse to introduce myself.

୨୧ movies: the virgin suicides, girl interrupted, buffalo 66, marie antoinette, palo alto, priscilla, malena, kids (1995), waves, gone girl, pearl, the love witch, black swan, prozac nation, white oleander, sharing the secret, valley of the dolls, christiane f, helter skelter, vivre sa vie, a woman is a woman, to the bone, sixteen candles, lolita, melancholia, billy elliot, speak

୨୧ music artists: lana del rey (lizzy grant), amy winehouse, radiohead, air, jeff buckley, mazzy star, fleetwood mac, slowdive, cocteau twins, sade, hole, the cure, pink floyd, led zeppelin, sex pistols, nirvana, massive attack, lalleshwari, black box recorder, autumn’s grey solace, oasis, beach house, nicole dollanganger, heart, boris, you’ll never get to heaven

୨୧ albums: ultraviolence, blue banisters, did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd (lana del rey), in rainbows, amnesiac (radiohead), grace (jeff buckley), moon safari (air), bare trees, kiln house (fleetwood mac), after hours (sarah vaughan), so tonight that I might see, among my swan (mazzy star), within the depths of a darkened forest (autumn’s grey solace), live through this, celebrity skin (hole), mezzanine (massive attack), surrealistic pillow (jefferson airplane), tell mama (etta james), seventeen seconds (the cure), the wall, wish you were here (pink floyd), mothership (led zeppelin), how does that grab you? (nancy sinatra), planet waves (bob dylan), blonde (frank ocean)

୨୧ books: the bell jar (sylvia plath), the perks of being a wallflower (stephen chbosky), lolita (vladimir nabokov), white nights (fyodor dostoevsky), the virgin suicides (jeffrey eugenides), girl interrupted (susanna kaysen), speak (laurie halse anderson), metamorphosis (franz kafka), of human freedom (epictetus), elvis and me (priscilla beaulieu), a room of one’s own (virginia woolf), madame bovary (charles flaubert), devotions (mary oliver), east of eden (john steinbeck), the stranger (albert camus), i malavoglia (giovanni verga), i who have never known men (jacqueline harpman)

୨୧ girl blogger icons: lana del rey (lizzy grant!!), sofia coppola, kirsten dunst, lily rose-depp, alana champion, nina sayers, effy stonem, amy dunne, lux lisbon, layla (buffalo 66), karissa love, nicole dollanganger, snejana onopka, vlada roslyakova, alida simone

thank you for reading, xoxo

[thefreakandthehair]

my fiance asked me this morning if "the shirt with the face on it" was dirty when it fell out of the hamper on the stairs. the shirt was my sublime tee shirt lmao. so, I've decided to take that interaction and make it steddie. also projecting my current fight against spring here, too. fluffy domesticity. enjoy!

It's Sunday. Otherwise known as Laundry Day.

Eddie groans and hefts the hamper up into his arms, trekking it downstairs to the laundry room off of the kitchen. Bandit nearly trips him on the fourth step but he saves the basket from tumbling, as well as himself, and sets about tossing everything in the machine.

"How do two people end up with so much goddamn laundry?" He mumbles to himself, sighing as he realizes it's another two-load week. Laundry isn't a task that typically falls to Eddie, but with Steve being attacked by every bit of pollen and ragweed an Indiana spring can produce, he offers to take over.

And by offers, he just does it. Even with one eye swollen, a raw nose, and a pocketful of tissues because he can't go more than five minutes without blowing his nose, Eddie knows that Steve will still try to push himself. Over the years they've known each other, he knows better than to ask or offer. He knows to just do.

As the first load spins and rinses, Eddie sets about making coffee and plops himself at the small, standalone island next to the window. Yellow daffodils planted by the previous owners of the house are starting to pop up along the walkway to the back deck, there are tiny green buds on the previously bare shrubs, and the sky is bright blue, expanding undisturbed into the distance as far as the eye can see. It'd be a beautiful sight, if only all of those blooms weren't to blame for the sneezing he hears from upstairs.

He loves spring, but he loves Steve more, and he's mad at the daffodils for making his boyfriend suffer.

Eddie transfers the clean laundry into the dryer and refills the washer with the second load when he hears tell-tale sniffling approaching him.

"Hey," a nasally voice appears behind him. "Is this shirt with the angel on it dirty? Think it fell outta the basket."

"What shirt with an angel on it?" Eddie asks, closing the lid to the machine and pushing Start. When he turns, he sees Steve wrapped in one of Eddie's well-worn black hoodies with holes in the sleeves for his thumbs and equally worn-in sweatpants. His hair is limp, his face is blotchy, and his lips are slightly ajar to accommodate for not being able to breathe through his nose. It's a sight almost pitiful enough for Eddie to forget what he'd just asked. Until he sees the shirt in question.

"This one," Steve holds it up before handing it over.

"Shirt with an ang—" Eddie laughs under his breath, staring down at the Led Zeppelin tee-shirt he'd been gifted by Wayne what feels like a lifetime ago. He just shakes his head and pauses the washer to toss it in.

"You're lucky you're cute." He smiles, pulling Steve into a hug.

Steve lets himself be held and wraps his arms around Eddie's waist, nestling his nose into the warmth of Eddie's shoulder. He grumbles something that sounds like shut the fuck up against his skin in jest, but Eddie chooses to ignore it.

Instead he simply kisses the side of Steve's temple and guides him to the kitchen island.

"Let's get you some breakfast, and maybe another Claritin."

[butternutt613]

Here is a little snippet (actually the first chapter) of my WIP

When the Sun Found Me

It's focuses on a Modern!Ominis Gaunt with a really cute guide dog and is just over all really sweet and fluffy!! ~ 1,300 words

Here you go @bookie-bookdust and @ravenwind-75 I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~

Science has always been Ominis’s least favorite subject. Not only were the practical labs difficult for a plethora of reasons, he also found the concepts hard to grasp.

Usually, Sebastian would be right there beside him, but the boy decided to move on to the more advanced courses their private school offered. Ominis couldn’t blame him. He wanted to get into biochemistry after high school, so he was in advanced physics this year.

Which is how Ominis found himself tucked into the far left table of Mr. Sharp's chemistry class at eight in the morning. Mari was curled up under his stool, her warm, pointed ear caught between his right forefinger and thumb. The soft fur felt familiar and comforting, grounding him in the room. The German shepherd had been with him for the past five years, diligently guiding him through life. She was his best friend aside from Sebastian and Anne.

Ominis had arrived in class far earlier than necessary. He wanted to get situated before class started. His laptop was set up in front of him, ready to dictate the lecture onto a document for him to review later.

He had his headphones in, listening to Fleetwood Mac, his chin resting on the heel of his left hand. His eyes were closed (not that it made any difference with his vision) but the music helped him relax before the long class. He was about to doze off when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

Someone was watching him.

He sat up straighter, the familiar flutter of unease settling in his chest. He fiddled with the cord of his headphones, pausing the song, and listened. Footsteps shuffled into the classroom, chatter filling the space. He could make out about five distinct footfalls. Four of them eventually settled into tables ahead of him, but the fifth kept approaching. Mari lifted her head toward the newcomer, sniffing curiously.

“Hi,” a voice rang out, light and unexpectedly cheerful. Ominis didn’t recognize the boy’s voice. “Can I sit here?”

Ominis tipped his head in the boy's direction, instinctively moving his hand to the top of Mari’s head. Her ears perked forward, attentive but relaxed, as if she didn’t sense any threat. He hesitated, then shrugged. “I suppose. It is a free country.”

The response was intentionally neutral, open for interpretation. He would never flat-out refuse someone, but he wasn’t about to openly agree to sit next to a stranger.

The boy took it as an invitation, and seconds later, Ominis heard the dull thud of a heavy book bag on the ground, followed by the scraping of the stool to his right as the boy settled down.

Mari huffed and shifted closer to Ominis, her muzzle resting on the toe of his shoe propped on the stool’s bar. He went back to resting his head on his hand, intending to ignore the boy as he turned his music back on. Fleetwood Mac had switched to “Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin.

“What are you listening to?” The boy asked, leaning in closer than Ominis expected. The sudden proximity startled him, and he instinctively shifted back, tightening his hold on Mari’s ear.

Instead of responding, he flipped his phone screen toward the boy, displaying the song title.

“Oh, I love them! I'm more of an AC/DC and Nirvana guy myself, but Led Zeppelin is a classic. You can't go wrong with them. I love the riffs; you can literally feel it in your bones,” the boy rambled, unbothered by Ominis’s silence.

Ominis’s brow furrowed slightly at the boy’s enthusiasm. People rarely spoke to him this openly, let alone with such eagerness. The boy’s energy reminded him of Sebastian’s, the same kind of restless liveliness he’d grown used to.

“I'm Ben, by the way.” The boy, Ben, introduced himself, his movement indicating he’d extended his hand.

“I’m Ominis, and this is Mari,” he replied politely, letting his guard drop a fraction. He reached out, but his hand missed slightly, brushing Ben’s wrist instead.

Ben didn’t falter, smoothly taking Ominis’s hand in his own in a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you both. She’s lovely. I have a goldendoodle at home, but I’ve always wanted a shepherd. Mom says they’re too hairy, plus Baba’s allergic to most animals. But he can never say no to Mom, which is why we have a cat he can't stand…”

Ben rambled on, bouncing from topic to topic, somehow managing to cover his family, his pets and even started on how his two younger sisters had started to be absolute terrors, now that they were three, in the few minutes before the bell.

Only when Mr. Sharp cleared his throat, did Ben fall silent. Ominis let out a quiet breath of relief, starting the dictation app on his laptop as Sharp launched into the syllabus and expectations for the year.

“The seat you have chosen is the one you will stay in for the semester,” Sharp announced, his voice sharp and no-nonsense. “I won't stand for any complaining or griping. You should have chosen better.”

Ominis felt his stomach drop slightly. The thought of sitting next to this talkative boy for an entire semester was daunting. He’d hoped to get through the year in silence. Still, he couldn’t deny a faint curiosity about Ben. His seemingly endless chatter was oddly comforting, a bit like background noise.

Mr. Sharp was probably the strictest of the teachers at their school. He did not tolerate any talking outside of the curriculum or misbehavior of any kind. It was safe to say that Sebastian got himself in quite a bit of trouble with him, landing a detention at least twice a month. Not as much as the idiotic Garreth Weasley but still. However, both had moved on to the advanced classes so this year should be relatively quiet.

“Psst.”

Ominis spoke too soon.

“Hey, Ominis,” Ben whispered, rather loudly, nudging his arm. “Can I borrow a pen?”

Ominis frowned, confused. Why was he asking the blind guy for a pen? Ominis didn’t use them, hence the laptop. But, of course, he did carry pens in his bag, Sebastian always forgot his. Not that Ben needed to know that.

“Don’t you have one?” Ominis whispered back, keeping his voice quieter than Ben’s.

“Yeah, but I can’t find it. I think it's-” Ben started.

“Excuse me, boys. Is there something you would like to share with the class?” Mr. Sharp’s stern voice cut him off, and Ominis felt his cheeks heat up as soft laughter rippled through the classroom. He was about to stammer an apology when Ben jumped in.

“No, sir. I’m very sorry; I was just asking Ominis here for a pen. I seemed to have misplaced mine.” Ben’s tone was polite, but Ominis caught a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“You are the new student, yes?” Sharp asked, and Ominis heard Ben nod beside him. “Hmm. See that you bring your own supplies tomorrow… and no more talking.”

“Of course, sir! It won’t happen again,” Ben replied cheerfully.

As Mr. Sharp continued discussing the year’s projects, Ominis felt Ben leaning toward him again, the slight shift in the air beside him signaling his approach.

Ominis turned his head in Ben’s direction, sighing.

“So, about that pen?”

Ominis rolled his eyes, letting out a huff in annoyance.

Ben was just like Sebastian.

He reached into his bag and handed the boy a pencil.

~~~~~~

Let me know your thoughts!! <3

[zin-fan-del]

Holdin' Out for a Hero

~5.000 word story featuring gay lizards and blueberry inflation. Also available for reading here on my main website!

"I've been holding out on this until I found someone like you." Windsor's words filled the quiet, dimly-rit room so suddenly it made the scales on Mehji's back momentarily crawl. Beneath the idyll autumn sceneries at the ranch house, he had been led to a room packed with machinery and chemical equipment. The crisp air and warm-hued leaves gave way to a well-camouflaged den of metallic greens and blues.

"Don't say cryptic things," the perturbed lizard just over half his height rebuked, keeping up pace behind his tour guide. His hands dug deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, despite the warmth radiating from the machines all over. As they walked, Mehji snuck several glances away from the curiosities all around to try and read Windsor's face. All he could make out was a confident, smug grin.

"So," the pale dragon's march stopped as the two approached an unusual display glowing with minty green light, "this is my magnum opus." He turned on a heel to face his guest, wearing the same baffling smirk… Next to this stellar contraption, though, a sparkle danced in his eyes.

Mehji's gaze broke with Windsor as he sized up the machine. Inside, like a sample floating in an enormous test tube, a full-body jumpsuit, boots, gloves and a mask were suspended. Looking at it, even up close, it was difficult to tell whether they were actually submerged in liquid or resin. The glass container appeared ethereal, draped in fluorescent viridian shining from lamps below. The tube was embedded in a steel base platform decorated by flickering control panel buttons.

The torso of the bodysuit was decorated with interweaving stripes that diverge and trace the outer arms and legs. A slim black belt featuring an elliptical metal buckle outlined in studs divided it in half vertically. The gloves and boots had cuffs shaped into wide spikes splayed outward. The lurid crimson fabric patterned with bold gray details appeared well-made, albeit strangely large and baggy.

"Is… is this your Halloween costume?" Mehji surmised, scratching the back of his head and forcing a smile. "It's, uh, cool. Which superhero was this again?"

Reacting to the lukewarm response, Windsor's face dropped into a disappointed frown. Unsure what he could have said wrong, Mehji chuckled nervously.

"This is not some measly costume. This… is Wrath." As the white dragon spoke of his creation, he turned to cast a prideful gaze thereupon, a smile creeping back onto his face.

"Isn't that one of those cardinal sins, mister…?" Mehji prodded jokingly. But Windsor simply sighed and faced him, speaking up with a serious tone.

"Mehji, do you remember the day we met?" Windsor's serious, seemingly off-the-cuff question was startling, though easily answered.

"Of course, though I barely believe it. We rolled people the size of zeppelins out of a restaurant…" Giving a brief nod, Windsor carried on.

"Aster City has been ravaged by that same incident happening again and again. People all over the place, in small groups, uncontrollably blowing up. It's a rapid growth that turns your body blue and fills you with juice." As he recounted the events of the past weeks, Windsor's eyes closed tight and he tapped between his brows with an index finger.

"The… the blueberries…" Mehji pulled a hand out of his pocket to insinctively carress his stomach, casting his mind back to the situation in question. His face must have contorted slightly as he spoke, because the taller reptilian's smug grin returned. A nervous feeling raging through Mehji spawned beads of sweat on his forehead.

"You were of great help that day. In fact, I don't think I've seen anyone else quite so excited to do heavy lifting." A gentle blush rose to Mehji's cheeks and his eyes forced themselves away.

"I- I just like being a helpful lil' guy, is all," the embarrassed green lizard attempted to clarify. "Was just following your instructions, really…"

"Then you won't mind putting this suit on for me." With a fluid motion, Windsor reached out and pressed a large eject button on the container's control panel. Immediately, the tube's glass walls slid down to the base, flooding the room in glowing seafoam hues. The garments gently fluttered down to the platformbeneath them, landing at Windsor's waist height.

"Right now? You want a superhero strip show?" Mehji jabbed into Windsor's side playfully with an elbow. "Ya gooner."

"W-what?!" Now, it was the alabaster reptile's turn to blush, which he poorly hid by turning his chin up and away. "To make fast-changing possible, it's designed to fit around any kind of dresswear. You don't even need to take your shoes… off…"

His spiel was abruptly interrupted upon reopening his eyes. Mehji's lower half was already stripped down to just boxers, and his arms were raised over his head to remove the white wifebeater formerly obscured by a large jersey. As he casually tossed the shirt into a pile of his other discarded clothes, their eyes locked. This time, it was Mehji's turn to meet a stunned, flushed face with a cocky smirk.

"What? Are you gay?" He teased, flexing his right bicep playfully. Windsor's jaw dropped but his brain had yet to catch upto speed.

"Well, but… It's not like… Y-you just don't have to, um, undress if you don't want to," the words raced each other out of his gaping maw, but Windsor's composure wasn't regained whatsoever.

"Enough yapping, you dork. You wanna see these guns in a tight suit?" Windsor's diamond eyes shot back and forth from the nearly-nude hunk actively teasing him, unable to conjure up words. "I wanna see more of that look on your face."

As he spoke, Mehji took hold of the suit and unfolded it before him. It unfurled all the way out onto the floor, despite being suspended in his hands over his head. Expeditiously, he unzipped the flashy suit from the top down to the tail-hole, and stepped inside with one leg.

"It's huge," he noted aloud while dressing himself. "You couldn't have secretly taken my measurements better?"

"… You'll see how it works," Windsor retorted, cheeks still rosy. Mehji raised a brow, uncertain what that could mean, but continued, trusting the dragon's guidance to be benign. As he slid his arms down the sleeves of the costume, he turned around.

"Help me out," Mehji instructed, gesturing with one hand at the zipper running down his back. Windsor stepped forward and, with a single decisive tug, closed it all the way up to his neck.

"Excellent. A perfect fit!" Windsor exclaimed with glee as Mehji slowly turned around. The suit was, contrarily, extremely loose and tall, despite being sealed quite firmly around his wrists, ankles, the base of his tail and the top of his neck. As he slid on the boots and gloves, Mehji felt the accessories snap into place like magnets. Despite the unflattering fit, there was a remarkable degree of care put into every piece.

"So, this is what you're into…?" Mehji probed, his tone landing between serious and jokingly pejorative. Most of the fabric was exaggeratedly draped around him like a blanket. He waved his arms slightly up and down, expectedly uncomfortable. "I think some, uh, adjustments might be necessary." From behind, Windsor raised the bandana-like mask up to the smaller reptile's eyes, fastening it into a secure knot below the spikes on his head. Despite their stark-white eyecaps, the mask conferred surprisingly unimpeded visibility.

"Quiet, now… Just follow my lead. You know which arm is your right one?"

"I'm not completely helpless, mister." Mehji smirked, and gestured with the according arm.

"Good. Snap your fingers with that hand."

"Like this?"

Upon triggering the click between his index finger and thumb, a small but distinct beep from the suit's chest area rang out. Before he could react, with the light sound of a vaccuum sealer, the entire garment restricted against his body.

"Guh--" Mehji gasped, puffing out his chest as he felt the soft fabric grow quickly tense. A sense of surprise stunned his jaw open as he held out both arms, contorting around to survey his body with wide eyes. "Holy… That scared me shitless." But as he continued to twist around, the initial shock gradually settling, an emphatic grin spread onto his face. "Hah… haha! Wow. How the fuck did you pull this off?"

The garment was fitted, in the blink of an eye, to perfection. Every curve of his body appeared sculpted beneath the unbelievably smooth fabric. With awe illuminating his visage, the green lizard was stunned into staring at himself in the reflection of a tall machine. This comfort level in such a tight garment was unthinkable to him. It would take hours of meticulous stitching to achieve anything similar.

"You look incredible." Windsor spoke up after letting his newly-dressed partner look himself over. He walked up behind the distracted man and planted both hands on his shoulders. Mehji, who had been on-edge just moments before, didn't react at all. "What you're looking at… What you're wearing… is how I'll fix the blueberries. This is Wrath."

"Your answer is to become a superhero?" Mehji curied, still transfixed on his own reflection. "I thought they caught the guy behind the breakouts already."

"Not quite." Windsor's hands began to explore his guest's figure. "I'm no hero. All I have is this flashy suit…" His palms follow the lines down Mehji's arms before gripping the sides of his chest and sliding down to his waist. "The blueberries just keep popping up, no matter how many culprits get arrested." His words kept Mehji from melting into the gentle massage. "You might now know, but some even remain afflicted long-term, expanding repeatedly…"

Mehji's body, mostly cool beneath the breathable bodysuit, couldn't resist warming up with big hands prodding at it. With an audible gulp, he stared into Windsor's calm eyes and spoke, "I thought permaberries were mythical."

"On the contrary, there are many. And twenty-ton life isn't easy in the city. You just don't fit in anywhere." Winsdor lifted his hands away from Mehji's hips and turned on a heel to take a few steps away. Windsor grew unxpectedly quiet as his brow shaded his downturned eyes. An indiscernable but painful emotion rose with him, expressed clearly through his self-assured facade.

"What're you going to do then? Find out whodunnit? Or run around, juicing everyone in your path?" Mehji brainstormed lightheartedly but his lanky suitor's demeanor refused to lighten.

"Nah." Click. Turning to face Windsor, Mehji heard the distinctive click priming the raygun pointed in his face, which began glowing with electric vigor. "I'm gonna make the problem so bad someone else solves it." Shivers rocketed up Mehji's spine and a sweat drop fell from his chin. "How about it? Just one beam and you'll get your dream body. It's like magic." Windsor responded, staring down his quaking partner deviously.

"W… wait…" the man sizing up a gun pointed his way sputtered. "What…? Dream body? It'll make me ripped if I want?" Mehji couldn't contain his questions, startled by the sudden attack. In his racing mind, the short lizard pictured himself bulging with muscles in the stunning red suit.

"Only if you truly dream of that." Windsor assured as the gun's charging light grew ever vibrant. Mehji groaned quietly, uncertain. Never in his dreams had he imagined himself so rich in brawn. But if this was a chance to quickly grow, he'd kick himself for declining.

So, with a face stiff as steel, he consented concisely.

"Hit me."

A bright ray blinded him as it collided with his midsection, disspating into him as a warm light. Windsor blew on the red-hot tip of the raygun forcefully, breaking up a steam cloud pouring off of it. As his eyes reopened, Mehji looked down to survey his body again, but nothing had visibly changed about it. He patted himself down with gloved hands, unable to sense any dramatic alterations to his figure as Windsor placed the raygun on a nearby counter.

"It didn't work…?" Mehji pumped an arm in the air, flexing it as dramatically as possible. "I haven't gained a pound."

Windsor laughed snidely. "It takes a while so you can really savor the change," He watched the suited-up lizard hastily squeeze at his own muscles, testing for any identifiable growth. "But it looks like it's working just fine to me."

Several questions rose to mind but were beaten to Mehji's lips by a loud belch. He raised a fist to cover it as best as possible, embarrassed. With his other hand, he rubbed at his belly just above his belt. Paying close attention, he could sense bubbles rising in his stomach before they rose sharply in volume. But still, his midsection was no flatter than normal. His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Surely this isn't a gun that just makes you gassy, mister?" Mehji joked. But as he pulled away the hand covering his mouth, he noticed a strange effect creeping its way down his arm. "Wait, huh…?" A deep cornflower color had sneakily appeared around his upper torso. On closer inspection, however, the splotchy effect was spreading like airbrushed paint toward his wrists. He leaned over, watching it race down his front, traveling past his groin and knees down his legs.

As the realization sank in, his breath paused momentarily, then picked back up into a rapid rhythm. As he turned his head back up, the sight of Windsor's euphoric grin made butterflies go wild in his stomach. Blood rushed to his face with such speed enough to nearly knock Mehji out. Embarassed to beet-red, he span around to the mirrored surface from just moments ago…

But the face that greeted him was a deep, rich indigo. In fact, in just seconds, blue hues swallowed his entire body, as though he was dipped in a vat of dye.

"I think I know where this is going," Windsor ominously murmured through a giddy sneer. Mehji's panicked eyes shot back up as his arms dropped to his side. "And that means I chose correctly with you," the taller lizard's tail grew erect as he watched on, struggling to contain elated laughter.

"No way," Inside his mind, Mehji was torn between fear and excitement. But his stomach was churning like an ice-cream machine, kicking up a racket even as he doubled over, pressing into it with both hands. "In my dreams, it doesn't… start this fast…" He was overcome with the sensation of having ravenously eaten past his limit. Through the thin fabric of his suit, he could feel his belly protruding scantly. Between the clamoring of his strained stomach and the soft gut where defined abs just were, the grumbling lizard began bloating up like he went overboard on soda.

The tall dragon released a deep belly-laugh he had kept bottled in for a while. Across the cool tiles he strode, placing a pair of fingers beneath Mehji's chin and lifting it to meet his gaze directly. He spoke warmly as he stroked it gently, ogling his helpless victim's face cloaked in the vivid hues of spirulina. "I'll keep you safe. I promise." Mehji swallowed dramatically as the gurgling from his gut continued, embarrassed to have his upset stomach heard by Windsor. But the white dragon stood close in front of him, their bodies separated by less than an inch. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Urk-!" Mehji, captured in the moment, momentarily forgot what situation he was in. He looked down in disbelief, his jaw slightly unhinged. "It's… really happening!" The juice filling him up spilled over. His belly, once meticulously slim, puffed up into a growing mass approaching the size of a basketball. In and out, the short lizard panted, trying to rationalize his situation. With a single curious hand, he pressed into the dramatically swelling paunch, leaving behind a dark handprint-shaped stain. He moaned as his gut kept duly stretching outward, pursing out over the tight belt cradling it from below.

Windsor pressed his waist into the ballooning lizard's girth, wrapping an explorative arm around his waist. "How's it feel…?" His voice dipped into deep tones as he uttered the question, eyes meticulously soaking in every inch of his subject.

"I can't stop filling up…" Mehji spat out between breaths, his body overtaken by a flurry of senses. "You're going to fucking pop me!" He ballooned so quickly and with such force that a natural sense of alarm rang out. But as Windsor's weight leaned into the sensitive, swollen pillow forming on his front, a rapturous pleasure overtook him. Its forceful growth continued unabated, blocking his view below his own midriff, before juice began to trickle out into the rest of his body.

"You'll be alright," Windsor spoke with a genuine tone that betrayed his devious expression. "Just relax, berry boy. Your fantasies are coming true."

At once, both of his breasts swelled up, spurning another gutteral noise from Mehji. His chest pressed against his chin as it grew, deepening the ecstasy gradually welling up in him. As he stared into Windsor's calm eyes his anxious trembling from before dissolved into a ravishing calm. With a smooth motion, Windsor's fingers cupped around his partner's asscheek, giving it a firm squeeze.

As if choreographed, Mehji's cheeks surged with juice. First, his ass ballooned outward, the pressure of Windsor's squeeze growing as it pressed into it. A rush of delight soared in Mehji, to whom the sensation of a hand on his taut skin felt electric, only intensifying as billows of juice pumping into him.

Moments later, desperate for room, the juice worked its way up past his chest. His lips pursed, pressed together by his face swelling as though with millions of calories at once. Mehji's eyes rolled back uncontrollably, unable to be kept in control as the tide of sweet liquid sqeezed itself inside of him. The emotions ripping through him, spurred on by the pressure of Windsor's sensual grip, overloaded his thoughts.

"Now this is what I'm into…" Windsor grumbled, his face twisted in a nefarious, turned-on smirk. As Mehji ballooned up in his arms, staggering at the sheer heft of his burgeoning frame, he was forced to step back. Gripping the sides of the swollen lizard's waist, he admired his handiwork with delight. With each deep breath, his nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh blueberry. He bit his lower lip to hold in an unhinged moan.

"You gotta help me, man…!" Mehji shouted as his limbs fattened up with ease, forcing him to extend them into a pose like a starfish. The gurgling, creaking bedlam from inside of him overwhelmed his ears as he gushed with fluid. His skintight suit squeezed against his inflating body, stubbornly refusing to break at even a single seam. The dark juice handprints staining his apparel had spread to encompass him entirely. Traces of the saccharine violet fluid were pressed out of Mehji's every pore, stickying the floor with a puddle beneath his feet.

"How am I… supposed to live… as a blueberry?" Words eked out of the stout reptile's mouth between heavy breaths. He waddled about, desperately redistributing his ballooning weight. At first, most of his girth localized around his waist. But the unrelenting pressure mounting within him forced its way outward, rounding his frame out smoothly. Rapidly transforming in such a revealing costume was embarassing, no matter how well it contained his bulging form.

"Well, for starters, I hope you like the flavor." Windsor joked, stepping back again. "But besides that, you don't have to do much of anything. Kick back and go with the flow." Then, with a swift but gentle tackle, he shoved into the massive lizard. With a yelp, Mehji stumbled back before his balance gave out and his gargantuan rear collided with the ground. "Not that you have much of a choice at this point."

Mehji flapped his limbs with all the force he could muster, but they resisted, steadily growing bulkier with each passing second. All he could do was wiggle his hands and feet, reveling in the sensation of being blown up into the spitting image of a blueberry.

His legs had grown so wide that they seemed to melt into the girth of his waist. His feet wriggled, vainly struggling against the force of his round groin gradually swallowing them up. The bubbling juice roared as it surged up his body to fill out his torso similarly, trapping his hands. As he swelled into a near-perfect sphere, losing complete control of his distended body, his suit miraculously stretched to encompass it seamlessly. The growing lizard moaned and groaned, eyes darting around to observe his impossibly huge body progressively expanding. Forced apart by his torso, he helplessly watched his hands disappear over the sides of his own burgeoning figure.

Windsor, with ever-curious hands, felt at the seams of the suit running flush down Mehji's spherical body. Despite showing obvious signs of tension, it remained unbroken, even around the areas that had fattened up the most. The thin belt wrapped snugly around the blueberry's midsection caused his flesh to purse gently around it. Like an artist surveying their own masterpiece, he radiated with joy, staring on at Mehji with a serene smile.

But Mehji continued to inflate. As he fattened beyond his own range of reach, his feet were ungrounded by the swelling fat between them. His body balloned outward, rising up like a nearly-full beach ball being topped off with air. Back and forth his globular body rocked, skin and suit creaking as though reaching their limits. Mehji's limbs stretched as far as they could, but his body swallowed them up as it swelled even wider.

"Mmph! Mmmm…" While being sucked into his swelling body, Mehji's plump cheeks sealed his mouth shut. All he could manage to vocalize were quiet grunts. He could hardly turn his head, let alone see over the rising girth encompassing it. Even his most mobile parts were similarly trapped, leaving his hands and feet incapable of more than gentle wiggling. "Helpff…" Raised up by his round backside, staring at the metallic ceiling, a single weak word rose to his lips.

"You're so ripe, I could just take a big, fat bite…" Windsor walked back up to the blueberry and embraced it again, pressing his face into the smooth, taut surface. "Or bake the world's biggest pie."

Rounding out, Mehji felt his inflation start to ease for the first time. As his creaking frame finally blew past Windsor's height, it rocked around its center point. The blueberry lizard's weight rocketed exponentially as the final traces of juice surged into him in a quick, steady burst. With that, Mehji moaned loudly, his face too swollen to vocalize anything more complex. As the final wave poured into him, slowing his expansion to a trickle, all that could be heard in the dark room was the raucous sloshing of fluid settling inside him.

Mehji was desparate to shout if it would relieve even a tiny fraction of the pressure to which he had been filled. Despite being painless, his turgid body was in an extreme excess of pressure beyond that which any person could reasonably reach. His face was still hot with feverish embarrassment, stressed largely by the immobility that so immediately overtook him.

"In fact, I have many plans for you," Windsor continued. While talking, he shifted his weight down, rolling the taut round balloon toward himself. It took a few tugs to position him correctly, but eventually, Mehji's puffy face appeared over the top of the round mass. The two watched each other intently as Mehji continued rolling, only coming to a halt as his face pointed down to meet Windsor's head-on. "You're the biggest berry I've ever seen, and that's saying something." Just like before, Windsor stuck a single hand beneath Mehji's bloated chin, caressing it with passion-filled eyes.

But this time, he leaned in to plant a kiss on Mehji's lips. The two closed their eyes and the moment froze for just a second before the lanky dragon pulled back.

"Thank you," he murmured, staring the blueberry straight in the eyes. "Now, go ahead and snap again. Right hand."

It took a moment before Mehji processed what he had been told. The sensation of being trapped in his own engorged body was frankly stunning. Moments later, though, he weakly forced his fingers together, accomplishing a single quiet snap. Instinctively, Windsor raised a single arm to cover his eyes and held his breath.

Incomprehensibly speedily, Mehji felt high tension envelop his entire body, pressing inward in all directions. "Holy--!" Before he could make sense of it, the fat distorting his face disappeared, allowing him to emit half of a startled interjection. Like a water balloon being popped, he deflated, a surge of juice spraying out and covering the room in all directions. As though his transformation played out in reverse, he was pressed completely free of juice in just seconds. In fact, it occurred so quickly that his belly was lifted away from the ground, leaving the short lizard momentarily suspended in mid-air.

But such conditions did not last, as he came tumbling down to the ground, landing on what remained of his cushy paunch before it quickly reverted to its original flat shape. As the wave of juice freed from him landed, raining from the ceiling, he clambered to his feet with a hand on his pounding head.

"I… I popped. I thought you said…" Mehji grumbled, patting at his midsection grumpily. At first, his perceived betrayal by Windsor sparked in him a flash of anger. But as he patted himself down top to bottom with both hands, looking over his decidedly normal-looking body, it fizzled out. "What kind of wizardry is this?"

"Hahahaha," Windsor laughed heartily before scooping Mehji up into a bear hug. Oddly, the former was drenched in deep blue juice, while the latter had reverted to his typical coloration. It ere as though it never changed. "It worked! What a success!"

"Whoa, whoa, what do ya mean?!" Mehji, held up by a pair of arms around his midsection, continued to survey his own hands. "How did you get all that out of me so fast?"

"Alright, I'll explain," the tall dragon set Mehji back down on his feet gently. "This was all a test for that suit. It didn't break and the compression mechanism worked flawlessly." Mehji gave a baffled look, so he continued. "It can basically squeeze you back to shape. See, look! That was all in you!"

Windsor spun around with his hands extended wide, smiling more than anyone witnessing so much property damage ever should. There was a thin pool of juice beneath their feet and not a single centimeter of wall space wasn't coated in the substance. Mehji patted his belly, cogs turning in his head, as he examined the damage.

Did any of that even really happen? He thought pensively. Is this… a dream right now?

"Do you… wanna give these suits out to people?" Mehji inquired, trying to imagine what could have motivated such a mystical invention. "That's your plan to solve the blueberry epidemic?"

"No," Windsor replied directly, still surprisingly cheerful. "Like I said, this world isn't built to accomodate for berries to exist." While speaking, he strolled over to the table upon which the raygun from earlier was set. Mehji recoiled instinctively as he picked it up but relaxed upon seeing it resting on its side in his open palms.

"I must admit I lied about this," Windsor gingerly raised the weapon in the air. "This gun just makes blueberries out of everyone it hits. The only thing here that can read your dreams… is me."

Struck at the understanding that he had been deceived, Mehji's mouth fell agape. What he had just experienced was a snowstorm of emotions hardly able to be captured by words.

"My plan? Simply fill the world with blueberries until it changes." Windsor laid out his intentions plainly.

"Are you the one who started all this, then?" Mehji probed with a gravely serious tone, still unmoving from where he originally stood up.

"No," answered Windsor, his eyes fixed upon his partner to convey his words with identical gravity. "I have my suspicions as to who did but am uncertain." For a moment, in the sickly-sweet subterranean study, the two tensely stared each other down. "So, with all that said…" Windsor stepped forward, still suspending the gun in outstretched arms. "I would like to ask you to be my partner in crime."

Mehji could not have predicted what transpired in the past few minutes. As he looked down at the firearm being given to him, he reached up with a single gloved hand to accept it but froze just inches away. With unsteady eyes, he sought for comfort in Windsor's warm, intent smile. Then, returning his focus, he picked it up by the handle, resting a careful finger on the trigger guard.

The weapon entered his grip comfortably, weighing subtantially less than he anticipated. Windsor relaxed his arms at his sides, glowing with pride at the sight of Mehji in his suit.

"I suppose that does sound a little fun," Mehji smirked as he posed with the gun pointed toward the porcelain-white dragon. He held it for a moment before angling his aim to just narrowly miss to the right. "Who know what else you have stashed down here, too?"

For the first time since he began swelling, Mehji soaked in the room in close detail as he lowered his weapon. All around him were workstations, machinery, tools and clothing. The scene was almost fantastical, decorated with active monitors and branding painted across the walls. A rather simplistic emblem in the shape of a W appeared in more places around the laboratory than he originally noticed.

"Well, in that case, welcome to Wrath HQ… rookie." Windsor's frigidly serious demeanor defroze as he offered a playful handshake. With his empty hand, Mehji reached out and accepted it. "So, how's about we get to cleaning u--?!"

Rambling made Windsor visibly inattentive, so Mehji gave him a swift tug on the arm, pulling the two men into a firm embrace. Before his eyes could flutter open, the short lizard delivered a passionate kiss unto the lips of the other. With one of Mehji's arms around his waist, Windsor let himself slide into the liplock.

Suddenly, the room flashed white. A warm sensation disspiated into Windsor from his back. As though unbothered, he pulled away from kissing the man that just shot him with a toothy, satisfied grin.

"Before that…" Mehji looked directly into Windsor's eyes as he tossed away the still-warm raygun. "I wanna see if your dream body is the same as mine…" He gripped behind Windsor's ass firmly on both sides as the two reptiles pressed into each other, exchanging loving, menacing grins. "…And I wonder if juice tastes sweeter when harvested with revenge." Windsor took in a deep breath as he rested his arms on Mehji's broad shoulders. "Don't hold out on me, now…"

But across the happy face he gazed into longingly, a vivid blue had already begun to spread.

[deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth]

I’m Gonna Crawl

Chapter 2 

Chapter 2 

July 21, 1973 

I was told to meet at the airport where I would be ushered to the plane to meet with Jimmy. I had two hours to completely panic and verbally accost myself for spending the last week crying over someone not worth the energy instead of preparing for this.      

Okay, girl, let's see…. Hmm two hours to: 

Get home – FROM the airport

Pack for multiple…MULTIPLE weeks

Call Daniel Because I’m sick and I’m weak and I suck, I know

Cry AGAIN

Fix my make-up 

Go BACK to the airport.

OH, did I mention packing for MULTIPLE weeks? Oh, okay, yeah.. multiple.   

 I had to admit, I was growing anxious. If this didn’t work out – if Jimmy didn’t like me – we could lose the account and then god knows what would happen to me. Already on thin ice, bitch. I reminded myself.  

I packed enough in my suitcase to clothe me for a good two weeks. As I zipped my luggage closed, I held the phone to my ear — Why?? — as I dialed Daniel’s number — Whhhhyyy???. It rang twice before he answered. 

“What?” He breathed into the receiver. 

“It’s me.”  

“Finally have time for me?” The snipe is made so casually a stranger could pass it off as friendly banter. 

“Don’t be like that.” Why did I call him? 

“I’ve been waiting for your call since last night.” 

“I’ve been busy. Work you know.” I played absentmindedly with the phone cord. 

“Of course.” He sounded skeptical. “I’ve got shit to do right now.” He rustled something around, the phone thudded lightly. “I’ll swing by your place tonight.” He coughed.

“Can’t.” I braced myself for the oncoming freak out. “I’ve got work. I’ll be travelling for the next few weeks.” 

He was silent for a moment. “Really.” 

“I leave in…” I looked at my watch. “Thirty minutes.” Another pregnant pause. The silence, deafening. “I can call you later.” I offered too quickly. The desperation in my voice, cringe worthy. 

Still, silence. Then a small huff. “Listen, I just want to see you, baby… to explain.”  

“There’s nothing to explain.” I stopped him quickly snapping out of hopelessness. “You did what you did. And I’m doing what I’m doing.” 

“…I’m not letting you go.” His voice was smaller. “You can’t just leave without talking to me about it first. You’re my girl, you belong to-” 

“No, Daniel I don’t.” I snapped, my heart pounding in my ears. “You don’t own me.” Jesus, he’s either dumber than usual or he’s just straight delusional. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.” 

Before I could hang up, he cleared his throat. “Where are you going?” 

I sighed. What I was trying to avoid. “The firm got a gig with a band. We’re covering their tour.” So to speak. 

“A band...” His pause was dangerous. “And this band…” He was fishing. 

“Stop. I have to go.” As quickly as I pulled the phone away I pulled it right back.  “And Danny, You lost me the moment I stepped foot into your office last week.” Before he could protest, I added. “I will call you tonight.” Then hung up. Am I delusional? Definitely a little bit. Bette Davis would win an Oscar playing me in a movie. 

And, for the record, the hypocrisy is not lost on me, babe.

* 

I reached the airport just in time. Peter was there waiting at the gate. He greeted me with a warm smile and took me through the airport to the platform where the plane sat waiting. ‘Led Zeppelin’ written in big bold letters across it. “Wow.” I breathed. 

“Pretty impressive, eh?” Peter gloated. “Come.” He gestured toward the stairs that led to the open door. “Jimmy’s inside.”

He guided me through the door and gestured to the right. “Impressive.” The main room of the plane was long and wide. A giant couch lined the wall spanning the length of the room and on the opposite side sat plush chairs, a table, a television, a small bar, and a Steinway.

I caught a glimpse of someone leaning against the doorway to the back of the jet. He stood there watching me, the glass in his hand holding enough liquid for a small gulp. He swirled it around and drank the last remnants. “So, this is why you told me to be on my best behavior.” He looked at Peter slightly amused then back at me. He pushed himself off the door frame. The movement, elegant, graceful. Kinda hot. “James.” He offered a hand. 

“Cali.” His hand was warm, sturdy. After a moment his long fingers slowly slipped away. So far not an asshole… so far… he has great hands…  

“Jimmy!” A young blonde head of carefully sculpted curls came bounding from the corridor, latching herself to his arm, powder blue shadowed eyes narrowed at me in a futile attempt at territorial marking. “Let’s go back to bed.” She tugged on his arm.

I raised an eyebrow and smiled without teeth. “Should I come back when you’re not busy?” 

“No, no, no!” Peter said, grabbing the arm of the blonde and pulling her with him out the door. “Come, darling. Jimmy has business to tend to.” 

“Fuck you, you can’t make me leave…” She tried to protest but she was weak and feeble against him. She stood no chance fighting off Peter who dragged her out without trouble.

“Sorry to interrupt. She seems…nice.” I tried to offer. “I don’t believe I caught her name.” 

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m afraid I didn’t either.” His head tilted to the side, the look on his face hoping for a snarky response. His green eyes held mine and for a moment I was at a loss for words. 

What a jackass. 

“Can I fix you a drink?” He pushed himself off the threshold. 

“It’s twelve-thirty.” I raised my eyebrows. 

He gave me a crooked grin. “Good a time as any.” 

Heading through the doorway he glanced over his shoulder at me, a simple nod to follow. Peter still hadn’t returned and I wondered if it were appropriate but my feet gravitated in his direction on their own accord. I followed behind into a small room with a smaller bar. He was behind it grabbing a glass from a cupboard, placing it on the counter. “Jack okay?” 

My look of disapproval elicited a small chuckle with the shake of his head. Two glasses were poured. 

“So,” He started, sliding the drink toward me. I sat on a bar stool and thumbed the glass. “You think you can handle this?” He raised his eyebrows. 

Eh-hm, Come again? “Why wouldn’t I be able to?” I questioned, my tone cautious.  

He smirked. “Well,” He looked up at me through his thick lashes. “Most girls who join me on tour don’t make it very long before they start… well… It’s hard not to get attached.” 

Jackass. “Mr. Page, I’m hardly on tour with you, I’m here to work. I can assure you, I will not be getting attached to you in any capacity.” Absolute prick. Cute but that's beside the point, Cali. 

He laughed melodically. “Oh, you will.” 

“Excuse me–” 

He held up a hand. I took a deep breath, feeling frazzled and lifted the glass to my lips, wishing the burning in my throat would erupt into flames so I could finally succumb to the inevitable. 

He raised his eyebrows. “We might get along after all.” He finished his drink and poured two more. “Cali, right?” 

I nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. 

He lifted a finger to my chin. I quickly pulled away, my eyes narrowed. “You’re feisty, aren’t you?” His crooked smile was wicked. 

I looked away again and drank the second glass. “Filming. I would like to talk about what your vision is artistically and technically.” I sighed. 

“Mhm, we’ll get to that, when the time comes. As for now you are here to get to know us.” Eyeing me, his teeth sunk into his puffy bottom lip. "And I would like to get to know you.” He emptied his glass and reached for the liquor. 

 The bottle clinked against my rings as I clutched it and poured another glass before I slid it back toward him. Great, now you're buzzed, genius. Patience, still thin. Somehow growing thinner. 

He smirked again and emptied the remnants of the bottle into his glass. “To getting to know one another.” He held his in the air, an attempt to ‘cheers’ me. When I didn’t reciprocate, he frowned. “Oh, come now, I’m intrigued. I fear I may have met my match.”  

I couldn’t tell if he was seriously hitting on me or if this was some kind of fucked up game he played to boost his wildly inflated ego.  Probably the latter. 

I emptied my glass, refusing to dignify him with a response. 

Peter bounded back into the room, exasperated. “What the hell kind of animal did you leave me with?” 

“Animal?” Jimmy’s eyebrows knitted together until his face lit with a knowing glint. “Right, careful, she’s got claws.” He gave Peter a cheeky grin. 

“Oh, does she?” Peter was deeply aggravated. “I hadn’t noticed!” He shoved his arm in Jimmy’s face, the red marks formed prominently among the freckles. 

“Relax, Ol’ boy!” Jimmy beamed. “If you think that’s bad you should see me.” 

“Ugh.” The sound was involuntary and did not go unnoticed. His satisfied smile was now bordering sinister.  

          “Are you bloody drunk?” Peter waved his hand in front of Jimmy’s face. 

          “I’ve had a few.” He shrugged in response. “T’was her fault.” He jerked his head in my direction. “Bet me I couldn’t polish off the bottle.” 

           It was apparent Peter was a glorified babysitter. “Sober up, Page!” He wagged a finger in his face. “Time to go.” He motioned to me. “Page. Rehearsal.” 

Jimmy winked, turned and started for the exit. I followed behind heading for the two black Fleetwoods parked on the tarmac.

 I couldn’t help but watch how his shirt clung to his back. Watching him felt like a perverse act. What is it about these assholes? 

To my utter dismay as I watched his dark curls bounce against his silk shirt he peered over his shoulder. “Tsk tsk.”   

“We’ll be taking the furthest car.” Peter called behind me. I turned to him, walking right into Jimmy not realizing he had stopped. 

 I stumbled into him, his hands quick to steady me by the waist. He looked down at me, his eyes mocking at first but quickly softened before closing. Lifting his hands, his smile faded. “Careful.” He murmured before getting into the closest car.    

           “Come, you’ll take the other car with me. Jimmy can ride alone.”

           Once we were in the car Peter folded his hands on his lap. “Look…” he gazed at me. “He’s not always like that. Usually quite a quiet chap. Gets cocky when he’s had a few.”

           I put my hand up for him to stop. “It’s fine.” I feigned a smile. I can do this.    

           “Take Pagey with a grain of salt.” He paused then chuckled. “Ay, you’ll be fine. Any problems though and I’ll sort the lot of ‘em out.” 

@dreamcastgirl99 If you want me to tag you, let me know wherever, whenever. I am here for you! Till next time..

[atinylittlepain]

Hayloft - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x dancer!reader

series masterlist

Joel thought they were joking, really. But when his patrol partners lead him through the back of the Tipsy Bison and slip down a dim flight of stairs, he realizes rather quickly that The Hayloft is no joke.

warnings | 18+ smut (duh), angst, joel being a ding dong

a/n | thanks must be given to @pedgeitopascal for letting me take on this idea <3

songs of this chapter:

I can't quit you babe - Led Zeppelin

Queen of boredness - Kinny

Do I move you? - Nina Simone

..............................

Joel pulls on a faint memory at the periphery of his mind. A summer day in Austin, he and Tommy sitting on the curb outside their childhood home with their knees up to their ears, sweating in the stifling warmth of the afternoon. Barely-dropped voices murmuring back and forth as Joel flipped through the magazine held between them. He had been trying to act cool, like his first year of middle school had manned him up compared to his younger brother. But he remembers that thick heat creeping up his throat, and a flush that couldn’t just be chalked up to the Texas sun as their eyes roamed over bare bodies, spread legs, and faces contorted in what they supposed was pleasure. They had found the old Playboy tucked under their parents’ mattress, bored out of their melting minds and stewing in the AC. It was the first time he could remember feeling like that, somewhere between curious and uncomfortable, excited and ashamed. 

He thinks about it now as he experiences that same feeling, forty years and change later, sitting in the basement of the Tipsy Bison.

“Where the fuck did they get those shoes?”

“There’s a mall, 15 miles south.” “They didn’t sell shoes like that at malls, man.” Joel is inclined to agree with the man making the observation on that point, wearily eyeing the dizzying struts of heels on the stage in front of him. He only lets his eyes wander upward briefly, spanning bare legs, catching a glance of scrappy lace, before turning his face back down to the swirling whiskey in his glass.

Honestly, when one of the men on his patrol team mentioned this place, Joel thought it was a joke, muttering a gruff “yeah, sure” when they invited him along for a night at The Hayloft. But he realized he was sorely mistaken when the group of men guided him into the Tipsy Bison, promptly walking through the door to the back where they kept all their kegs and slipping down a flight of dimly lit steps.

He recognized a few people immediately in the glowing red light, other men he had been on patrol with, playing pool and smoking in the back of the room. But most of them were seated, eyes glued to the raised platform in the center of what was clearly a bar, beneath a bar. It took a second for his brain to catch up to a sight so completely unexpected. 

Swaying hips, curving spines, flicking hair, wandering hands, and dipping legs. Women, looking like something straight out of a porn film. 

Now listen, Joel Miller was raised by a mother who taught him to be a gentleman, and as such, he had never once been in an establishment like this place, not before, and certainly not after the world fell apart. But, he is a man, afterall, and he can’t exactly help the way his eyes keep darting to one particular figure shimmying around on the stage. So, as he sits amongst his patrol partners, taking zinging sips of liquor, he feels that familiar heat creeping up his throat, making him stiffen up in more ways than one.

The music changes all of a sudden, a man’s rasped shout and a dragging guitar riff laid over a slumped drumbeat. He recognizes it, though he can’t quite place it in the haze. There’s four women up on the stage, and while three of them step down, slinking amongst the seated men, the other one, the one Joel has been watching, crooks her arm around the pole he had thought was only for decoration. 

He no longer tries to hide his stare, watching the arc of her hips as she dips and snaps her hair out of her face, the thin fabric of what could only be described as panties pulling taut across the curve of her ass. She moves like liquid, curling around the pole and lifting up into the air, neck stretched long as she arches back in a perfect spin. 

“She’s good, right?” Joel glances at Harris, his patrol partner who just spoke, grunting something noncommittal at the man’s broad grin, not wanting to miss a second of her performance. And a performance it most certainly is. She’s perfect, glowing in the faint red lights of the bar, every outstretched leg, every twist and bend, radiant and divine. Suspended in air, one arm elongated, before tracing a line of desire with her palm dragging down her bare torso, hips swerving obscenely up into the flicker of her fingertips. And then, with the next staggering string of guitar chords, she drops, catching herself at just the last moment. A delicate heel is lowered, followed by the other as the room resounds in applause, Joel only now realizing that he needs to pick his jaw up off the table. 

The track changes, a stilted rhythm that she starts to bob her head side to side to as she steps down off the stage. Even her walk is like a dance, hips swaying, hands grazing the sides of her bare thighs as she moves, and Joel realizes too late that she’s coming directly toward their table.

“Harris, who’s your friend?” 

“Cherry, this is Joel Miller. He’s new in town. Joel, this is Cherry.” She tilts her head at him, a simpering smile crinkling her eyes as she leans forward, breasts all but spilling out of the cups of her bra. Joel stutters into motion when it clicks in his brain that she’s holding out her hand for him to shake, his palm sliding against hers in a firm squeeze.

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller. What’d you think of the show?” He has to clear his throat a few times before he speaks, an icy heat prickling the back of his neck all the while.

“I, um– you’re something else.” Jesus fucking christ, that’s the best you could do? She, however, seems to like his answer, smile broadening into a grin.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me–” Her eyes glance down and back up to Joel, twice, and he only figures out that it’s because he’s still holding her hand when she gives his palm another squeeze. He’s quick to let go of her hand, though he wishes he hadn’t. But his dismay dissolves with the sight of her walking away, and the way her ass shakes with each sublime step. He cranes his neck, only catching a glimpse of her slipping through a door in the back of the bar. 

“Easy, Miller. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

“Where’s that door go?” Harris laughs, shaking his head.

“Look, man, don’t worry about that. Everyone falls in love with Cherry when they first see her. But it’ll pass. She’s off-limits.”

“Why?” Harris shrugs.

“She just is. They all are. Keeps things civil, y’know?” Joel has no interest in being civil, not right now. He hasn’t wanted something this bad in a long time, and even though Harris tries to call him back, he doesn’t so much as tilt his head in acknowledgement as he wades through the simmering haze of the bar toward the door he saw her go through. 

He only briefly wonders at just how big this basement is when he shoulders through the door and into a dimly lit hallway.

“Nat, is that you? Did your set finish already?” Her voice is coming from behind a cracked door further down the hallway, which Joel follows with little thought to it. 

“What the fuck?” It’s a blurry string of events. He catches the quickest glimpse of her when he sidesteps through the door, seeing her standing in front of a mirror, her bra loose and unfastened, hanging on her shoulders. But it becomes apparent pretty fast that this was possibly the stupidest (and creepiest) way he could have tried to get her attention when she catches sight of him in the periphery of the mirror, whipping around and startling a few feet back before hurling something small at him that still hurts like hell when it makes contact with his forehead.

“Jesus– shit!” He instinctively curls over himself, one hand on his thigh and the other pressing into the spot just above his eyebrow that seems to be bleeding from what he now sees was a hairbrush.

“What the hell is your problem, man? You thought you could get an extra look? You think you’re special, huh? Is that it?” His head is reeling, and it’s all he can do to straighten back up, still applying pressure to his well-deserved wound. In the time it’s taken him to collect himself, she’s slipped a robe on, tied close and tight around her waist.

“N-no, no. That isn’t– I just– wanted to talk, um, to you.” He feels like he’s got cotton in his mouth, gumming up his words and drying out his throat until it all comes out garbled and wrong. She lets out a bitter laugh, brushing past him and opening the door wider, fixing him with a hard look.

“Yeah, nice try, buddy. But I’ve heard that one before, and lemme tell you, that’s not how this works. Now get out.” She doesn’t have to tell him twice, Joel shuffling through the door, though he stops for a moment to say something.

“I’m– I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I swear, this ain’t how I am, normally. Fuck– I’m just– I’m sorry.” He doesn’t wait around for a response from her, hurrying back down the hall and out into the bar, not even looking for Harris as he makes a beeline for the stairs, taking them two at a time and getting the fuck out of the Hayloft and the Tipsy Bison.

The fresh night air is something of a relief, though Joel is still mortified, thick and heavy guilt settling in his bones as he stumbles home. He realizes now that he had been a fucking fool, thinking that she had, what? Been flirting with him? He scoffs to himself, knowing that it had just been a part of her act, her performance. And Joel bought it, hook, line, and sinker. 

When he gets home, he takes a shower, scrubbing harshly at his skin, trying to clean away the sickening shame settled just beneath the surface. He knew better, he was raised better, and he’s horrified with himself that even at his age, he wound up thinking with his dick rather than his mind. Looking in the mirror, he sees the sizable cut, just over his left eyebrow, what will serve as a reminder to him to not get distracted by pretty, shiny things. 

He doesn’t sleep well, tossing and turning in his sheets. The only real conclusion he reaches is that he’ll never set foot in the Tipsy Bison, or the Hayloft, again.

…

Joel is not having a good morning. Normally he’d feel at least a twinge of contentment in working at the stables, but today, the only thing he can focus on is his pounding headache and the embarrassing memory of last night. 

He had only barely escaped Ellie’s questioning earlier this morning when she came downstairs and into the kitchen, telling him that he “seemed pissier than usual” before asking him where he got “that dinky little cut.” 

Luckily, working the stables usually means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone except for the horses, the quiet tasks helping somewhat to ease his mind. His relief is short-lived, however, when he hears a newly familiar voice nearing the stables. Sure enough, when he peers out of the stables, he sees her, leading one of the new colts around the pen. While she looks a lot different than how she did last night, blue jeans and a ratty work coat hiding her figure, Joel would recognize that smile anywhere. Before he can return to hauling sacks of feed around, her eyes catch his, and she clearly does a double take, squinting at him in the morning sun. 

“Hey.” A single word, a jerk of her chin, and then she’s walking over to him, and Joel suddenly has no clue what to do with his hands, shoving them deep in the front pockets of his jeans.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, head tilted as she stands before him. Joel has enough sense this morning not to come off like a total fool.

“Again, I’m real sorry about last night. I wasn’t thinking, at all. It won’t happen again, I promise.” She sighs, toeing her boot into the dirt before glancing back up at him.

“Thank you for your apology. It’s fine, really. You weren’t the first, and lord knows you won’t be the last. I guess it kinda comes with the territory.” The laugh she lets out is clipped, clearly trying to hide the sore tinge to her words.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am before.” It’s unexpected, the wry crook of her smile as she says it, and Joel has to huff out a laugh, rocking a bit on his heels. But his laugh fizzles out when she brushes her fingers over his forehead, leaning up and tracing his cut.

“That hairbrush did a little number on you, huh? Sorry about that.” Her touch is gone as quick as it had been there, but the warmth creeping across his face remains.

“S’alright. Reckon I deserved it anyways.” That earns him another smile and a light laugh.

“Yeah, I guess you did.” Her words come out airy, the quirk of her grin telling him that she means it as much as she’s joking about it, and it emboldens him just enough to say something else.

“Can I ask you something?” She purses her lips, squinting up at him.

“You can ask, and maybe I’ll answer.” 

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?”

“You’re new, right? It may be a small town, but everyone works. I’ve been here for years and there’s probably still folks I don’t know just because we’re on different work schedules.” 

“And is that– what you do at the bar– is that work?” She hums at his question, all smiles when she answers.

“Did that look like work to you?” His mind darts back to last night, her performance, and he has to swallow hard around the memory. She huffs out a laugh when he remains silent.

“No, that’s not work. Just a little fun, an escape, y’know? Forget about everything going on up above ground for a while.” He nods, certainly being able to understand the desire to forget the world, even for a few hours. They stand in silence, a hiccup of time, just looking at each other, which she breaks with a sigh.

“Well, I better get back to work. But, are we good?” 

“Think that’s for you to decide, ma’am.” The laugh that coaxes out of her is different, fuller, as she tosses her head back, eyes crinkling up when she does look at him again.

“Hmm, yeah, I’d say we’re good. See you around, Joel.” With that, she turns on her heel, heading back out to the horsepen. But Joel still has another question for her.

“Wait– that’s not your real name, is it? Cherry?” She grins over her shoulder at him, shrugging a little.

“Why don’t you come see another show sometime? Maybe I’ll answer your question then.” 

…

He recognizes the music immediately. Nina Simone, something his mother liked to spin on the old record player in the living room, snapping and popping with the drawl of the needle. But his mother is the last thing he’d like to think about right now. 

He went alone this time, ducking down the stairs and sitting on a stool at the bar, using a glass of whiskey in his hand as an anchor as his eyes scanned the murky room. He feels his heart sink when he doesn’t see her up on the stage, nor in the crowd, but his disappointment fades when someone taps him on the shoulder, making him turn around in his seat. 

“Hey, you came.” She’s in those same damn, mile-high shoes, that same little black set. But Joel has resolved himself this time to be a gentleman, and as such he keeps his eyes upward, as best he can. 

“I was looking for you– wasn’t sure if I came on the wrong night.” Her smile is tinged red by the lights of the bar, eyes glimmering in the haze.

“Well, you actually just missed my set.” He feels his shoulders slump at that, only a little embarrassed by his clear display of discontent and the way that she catches it with a laugh.

“But, if you’d like, I could show you what you missed.” He doesn’t think he heard her right, his head ducking a bit, eyes squinting at her easy grin. She brings a hand to his bicep, fingers trailing down until they’re tangling with his and she starts walking backwards. It’s all Joel can do to shuffle along to her gentle tug, his brain short-circuiting all over again. 

She pulls him through the backdoor, and then through the same door he had so witlessly stepped through the last time. He actually gets a good look at the room this time, what appears to be a makeshift dressing room, a few mirrors propped against one wall, clothes slung on a coat rack, and a ratty couch pushed into the corner. She drags him inside, Joel all but stumbling over his feet as she gives him a light shove down onto the couch, taking a few steps back and resting her hands on her hips. The music is only a faint throb through the walls now, quiet enough that he can hear his heartbeat kicking and quickening, blood rushing.

Her hips already have a little sway in them, the ghost of a smile as she keeps her eyes on him, and Joel muses to himself that whatever this is, it’s all going to be on her terms, always. 

“Since I don’t have the pole, I’ll have to improvise a little bit, that ok with you?” Worried that his voice would betray him, he just nods, the sound of her laugh relaxing his shoulders from where they had been pinned up by his ears. 

“Besides, I don't think those men out there really care about the moves, so long as my ass and tits are out. But I’m an artist, y’know? I care.” As if to emphasize her point, she steps one foot out, arcing her hips in a circle, and arching her back, her ass on perfect display as she grins over her shoulder at him. All Joel can think is that this must be a dream, that there’s no way this is actually happening. But seeing her dance up close, there’s no denying how real she is. He can see the sheen of sweat across her sternum, the little pull of her brows as she moves, the curved crease where her ass meets her thigh, and it all only makes him want her more. 

“Hmm, I have to admit, I prefer dancing with a prop. Do you mind?” Though he’s not entirely sure what he’s not minding, Joel shakes his head no. He reckons that he wouldn’t even mind if she asked to stab him in the thigh, not at this point. She’s got that smile again, like she knows a secret she’s never going to tell him, as she saunters toward him, one knee and then the other coming to rest against the outsides of his thighs. The last sane part of his mind tells him that he still needs to be a gentleman, so he keeps his hands balled in fists on the couch cushions. He can see the intricacy of the thin lace detailing over her bra, her chest is so close to his face as she rests her forearms over his shoulders. He clears his throat, trying to focus on her face instead of her hips dipping and hovering over him.

“Did you, uh– did you do this for work before?” 

“Mmhmm, made good money too. Was putting myself through college with it and everything.” She giggles at the raise of his eyebrows, tilting her head at him as she continues to sway in his lap. 

“What? Does that surprise you?” 

“Maybe a little, though to be honest, I’m starting to get used to you surprising me.” 

“You can touch me, y’know.” He freezes at that, any ease he had slipping away under the prickling heat of her gaze.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.” He can tell that she finds his response amusing, her smile slanting and eyes squinting at him.

“And why not?” 

“I’d rather not get another hairbrush thrown at me.” He tries not to, he really does, but he can’t help the way his eyes dart down to the swell of her breasts lightly bouncing with her laugh. It’s a quick little thing, the kiss she presses to the cut above his eyebrow, but it’s enough to melt his resolve down into a dripping puddle.

“I promise I won’t throw anything else at you. But why do I get the feeling that’s not the only reason you’re hesitating?” He lets out a sigh, and she stills on top of him.

“Oh god– did I completely read this wrong? I’m so–”

“N-no! That ain’t it. It’s just– I barely know you and I– you gotta know that I don’t usually do stuff like this.” “Stuff like what?” 

“Like whatever you’ve got planned in that pretty head of yours.” She huffs out a laugh at that.

“Why don’t I tell you my real name? Then you’ll know me a little better than barely.”  She leans in, lips grazing his ear, her name coming out on a whisper that Joel thinks will spin in his mind for the rest of his life. At the same time, her hands slip down his arms, uncurling his fists and guiding his palms to splay over her hips. Joel takes it from there, hands dragging down over the tops of her thighs before roaming up the span of her back.

“There, was that so hard?” Her smug look makes him grumble, hands dipping down to cup her ass and give an experimental squeeze that makes her gasp.

“Got another question for you, darlin.” She crooks a brow at him, waiting.

“Why me, huh? Could have any one of those guys out there. And I didn’t exactly make a good first impression.” Her smile screws up, eyes narrowing like she’s really considering what he said.

“Because you look like someone who’d like to forget for a while, same as me. And I like it when you call me ma’am.”

Things go downhill fast from there. It’s been a long time since Joel has kissed a woman, but he’s quick on the uptake, his lips molding with hers, tongues twisting up between little sighs and the clicks of spit. His hands firm up on her hips, pulling her down to grind against his aching hardness, reveling in the whimper that breaks in her throat when he does. 

He just needed a little certainty from her, and now that he has it, he moves with confidence beneath her, dragging his lips down her chest, mouthing at the fabric of her bra, pulling away only briefly when she shrugs the garment off before dipping back down to take one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. She says his name like a plea, breathless and pitchy and he’d like to replay the sound on an infinite loop in his mind. 

“No teasing– not this time. One of the girls could– fuck– could come in any minute.” His heart flips in his chest when she says this time, the promise of this happening again making him lightheaded as she fumbles with his belt buckle. He rests his forehead on her sternum, batting her hands away to finish the job of unbuttoning his jeans and shucking them down with his boxers, just enough for his cock to bounce out, pre-cum smearing over the bottom of his shirt. She works with deft hands, reaching between them to thumb over his leaking slit, rubbing the slickness down his shaft  as he hisses at her delicate touch while at the same time, she’s pulling her panties to the side and moving to hover over his throbbing tip.

His eyes roll back when she slides down on him in one languid move, his fingers gripping harshly into the plush of her ass. It’s almost too much, the fluttering heat of her wrapping him up as she sighs on top of him, lips dragging across his in a broken kiss. And then she starts to move, and Joel thinks this might just be how he dies. It starts with a few tentative swirls, just like the ones he saw her do up on that stage the first time, but that quickly morphs into sweet little bounces that he guides with his hands cupping her ass.

Neither of them speak, only letting out little gasps of pleasure, her uh uh uhs driving him crazy with each bounce. He firms his feet up on the ground, starting to meet her hips with his own thrusts, her back arching at the sensation and a silent cry stretching across her lips. More than anything, he wants to feel her come and he sets his mind on it singularly, bringing one of his hands around to draw sloppy circles over her clit, groaning at the way she spasms around him in response. He brings his other hand up to hold her by the back of the neck, pulling her closer until he can smear his lips across her ear in a hot whisper, low murmurings of how bad he wants it, how good she feels, how he’s dying to see her come for him.

And she does, with a harsh yelp of his name, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades through the fabric of his t-shirt. She slumps in his grip, and it takes all of Joel’s willpower to pull her off of him, finishing himself off with a few frantic strokes of his hand before his spend is smudging across her tensing belly. 

They hold onto each other hard, trying to find stillness after their heady spin of pleasure. Beneath their breathless pants, the dull thrum of music still seeps into the walls from the bar, a reminder of what actually just happened, and how fucked he truly is now that he’s gotten a taste of her. 

........................

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped): @littlelou22 @mydailyhyperfixations @harriedandharassed @amanitacowboy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beskarandblasters @ariiiloves @swiftispunk @cutesyscreenname @brittmb115 @funnygirlthatgab

[swtangel111]

Welcome to my blog angels ʚɞ

꣑ৎ about me: she/her, my bday is september 13, glasses wearer

꣑ৎ my sun is a virgo, my ascendant is a taurus and my moon is libra

꣑ৎ fav artists: lana del rey, michael jackson, elvis presley, hole, jeff buckley, motley crue, guns n' roses, led zeppelin, nirvana, bon jovi, metallica, black sabbath, nirvana, sex pistols, the who, megadeth, the beatles, fleetwood mac, the doors, fiona apple, ac/dc, mazzy star, deftones

꣑ৎ fav books: frankenstein, hamlet, jane eyre, the outsiders, great expectations, the song of achilles, wuthering heights, the little women, the poppy war, the final empire, macbeth, one hundred years of solitude, the shadow of the wind, 1984, a good girl's guide to murder, blackwater, the hobbit

꣑ৎ fav movies: black swan, buffalo '66, dazed and confused almost famous, the outsiders, the lost boys, girl interrupted the love witch, the craft, sleepy hollow, star wars

꣑ৎ likes: reading books, light pink, perfume, victoria's secret coffee, listening to music, fashion, poetry, autumn, astrology moon, spirituality, f1, rain and watching movies

꣑ৎ dni: porn blogs, -phobes, racists, romanticize lolita, mean people, etc.

Thank u for reading ♡

[luvrboydave]

ur turning into one of my fav blogs omg omg… we need more dave content on here. rn i’m thinking abt slow and sensual sex w 1990s dave after the two of you have been crushing on each other for a while… maybe you grew up together n you’ve always had his back. kinda like the “it’s always been you” trope you feel me?

omg no way, your blog is literally the reason i made mine LMAO and i totally agree…there’s just not enough dave content on here!! no but listen…there’s something so sweet about 90s dave…he’s just got this happy, comforting aura to him, y’know what i mean? i love him sm

doing this in bullet point format because my brain is very messy and can’t structure a story rn...so this is just word vomit about the prompt

- dave has been infatuated with you since the two of you met in high school. you always supported him, no matter what he was going through. when he was kicked out of metallica, you were his shoulder to cry on, and when he formed megadeth, you were there to congratulate him

- bro fell for you SO HARD!!! he constantly buys you little gifts and tries to play it off as a friendly gesture…sayin things along the lines of “i saw this at the store earlier and i thought you’d like it” as he hands it to you. unfortunately, he’s oblivious to the fact that you also fell for him.

- one night in ‘92, dave drives you out to your guys’ fav hangout spot, and it’s definitely *not* a date. you both sit in his car, silently listening to some random led zeppelin song playing on the radio. out of the corner of your eye, you watch as dave takes a deep breath and turns towards you. “can i tell you something?” he asks, nervously running his fingers through his hair. You smile at him, “of course, what’s up?” “i’m in love with you,” he breathes out. your eyes go wide; you’re completely shocked by his confession. a short laugh escapes your lips, and you grab his hand, “well, i’m glad im not the only one that’s utterly in love with their best friend…”

- soon enough, dave has your back pressed into the cool leather of his backseat. he’s kissing you slowly and softly, ensuring you know how much he loves you. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. your shirt rides up slightly as you push your hips upwards, and dave’s hands are immediately on the newly exposed skin, hands coming to rub your waist. dave kisses down your neck, pausing to whisper, “love you so much…it’s always been you, sweetheart.”

- once he’s got you fully undressed, dave makes his way down to your cunt. he presses his cheek up against your thigh and looks up at you, “wanna eat you out so bad, baby…” you weave your fingers into his hair and push his face towards your pussy, and he gladly complies.

- you moan as he slides his tongue over your drenched slit, tightening your grip on his hair when he takes your clit into his mouth. dave uses his thumbs to spread your fold apart, licking a flat stripe over your cunt before he turns his attention to your clit again.

- he sinks his middle and ring fingers into your cunt, fucking you with them nice n slow as his mouth is still attached to your clit. His other hand is wrapped around your thigh, keeping one leg in place over his shoulder. “dave- gonna cum,” you gasp breathlessly, rolling your hips up into his mouth. dave coaxes the orgasm out of you slowly, fingers curling up into you and hitting just the right spot. your eyes flutter shut as you cum, hands scrambling for purchase on anything you can find. after dave cleans up your messy cunt, he kisses back up your body, planting a sweet kiss on your lips again.

- you watch as dave unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down just enough for him to slip his cock out. he wraps a hand around the back of your knee, pushing one of your legs up to your chest. his other hand guides his tip to your entrance, teasing it against your cunt before slowly pushing in. once he bottoms out, he begins to fuck into you slowly. his pace is steady, but his thrusts are deep; the head of his cock brushes against your cervix with every thrust. dave leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing his weight into you. “so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. wanted you for so long, y’know…thought about this every day.” he grunts, pace faltering ever so slightly.

- dave brings snakes down to your cunt, thumb beginning to rub at your clit, adding to your already overwhelming pleasure. you can feel your orgasm swelling up again, one hand moving up to grip dave’s shoulder and the other pressing onto the foggy window. your pussy flutters around him, and you cry out, signalling to him that you’re cumming. he continues to fuck into you, helping you ride out your intense orgasm again. pulling out of you with a loud groan, dave wraps his hand around his cock and jerks himself off until he cums onto your cunt.

- dave smiles down at you, leaning in to steal another kiss from your lips before looking for something to clean you up with. after he wipes you down, you sit up and watch him tuck himself back into his jeans. He looks over to you, a bright smile on his face, “i meant all that shit i said, y’know…” you nod and return his smile, laughing slightly, “this was kind of a weird way to ask me to be your girlfriend, but the answer is yes.”

[shamanfox]

A Moment That Changed Everything

In the summer of 2011, I was doing something as ordinary as steam cleaning my bedroom. Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven played through my earphones as I worked, but my mind was consumed with questions: Who am I? What’s the truth? Who is God? What’s the truth? I asked these questions repeatedly, almost as if I were pleading with the universe for an answer.

Then, I heard it—a voice, clear and calm: Would you give up everything to know the truth?

Without hesitation, I thought, Yes, of course. But the voice persisted: Would you give up everything?

This time, I paused. What did “everything” mean? The voice clarified, Including your own children.

That question hit me like a wave. My children? The thought was almost unbearable. But I considered it deeply. I reasoned: How could I lose all my children? That’s impossible. Unless… if I were to lose them, it must mean I deserve it. After what felt like an eternity of soul-searching, I answered from my heart: Yes.

In that moment, everything changed. I was surrounded by pure darkness, yet when I “opened my eyes” in my mind, I saw something extraordinary. From the void emerged spiraling universes upon universes, forming a massive cosmic structure, like a moving, breathing spiral. It felt infinite, and I was far, far away, just observing. When I focused, it appeared; when I let go, it vanished.

Curiosity overtook me: Where’s Earth? I found myself flying toward the spiral, passing billions of universes, each shifting and rearranging like a cosmic dance. Eventually, I reached our universe and zoomed in on Earth. But it didn’t stop there. I wanted to know: Where’s Nicole?

That’s when I saw it—a vast canyon stretching endlessly in both directions. It was filled with thin, rice-paper-like sheets, each one playing a different scene of life, as though every possibility and every dimension of my existence was being laid bare. The voice returned: This is Nicole. All of these—every direction, every possibility—this is you.

I asked, Which one am I in now? The voice guided me to a single sheet, and suddenly, I was back in my bedroom, steam cleaner in hand, the music still playing.

But nothing was the same. I realized, deeply and painfully at first, that none of this was real. Nothing existed in the way I had always believed. It was all an illusion. The sadness was overwhelming—until the voice said: How closer can you be to that which you love than to be it?

That shifted everything. My sadness dissolved into a love so profound it felt endless. When my children ran past me later that day, dripping water from their play outside, they seemed to move in slow motion, leaving trails of light behind them, like echoes of their joy. I saw them as part of the illusion, yet my love for them deepened. It didn’t diminish anything—it enhanced everything.

For days, I walked in a state of peace and euphoria. The mundane felt sacred. I was different, yet I was the same. My search for understanding led me to study multiverses, consciousness, and eventually, teachers like Carlos Castaneda.

That moment, however, remains the heart of it all: the realization that the universe is infinite, interconnected, and alive—and that truth is not something to be known but something to become.

[einsteinsugly]

That 70s Show: A Fic Game!

Explanation:

Write a oneshot (or oneshots), in the month of November, using these prompts (aka, titles from popular 70s songs). You can pick whatever on whatever day you want; this is just a general guide. Tag it "t7sficgame," if you'd like.

*****

Rules (aka, there are no rules):

1. It doesn't have to take place in the 70s.

2. The prompt doesn't have to be in dialogue (although it's preferred, since I picked these song titles for their potential to be used in dialogue); prose is fine.

3. Post it here, or post it on AO3 or FF. Or everywhere. Take your pick.

****

Prompts:

Nov 1. Do It Again (Steely Dan)

Nov 2. Don't Look Back (Boston)

Nov 3. Don't Stop (Fleetwood Mac)

Nov 4. For All We Know (Carpenters)

Nov 5. I Can't Tell You Why (The Eagles)

Nov 6. I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor)

Nov 7. I'll Be There (Jackson 5)

Nov 8. Isn't She Lovely (Stevie Wonder)

Nov 9. It's Too Late (Carole King)

Nov 10. Just What I Needed (The Cars)

Nov 11. Just You 'N Me (you can use "and me") (Chicago)

Nov 12. Let It Be (The Beatles)

Nov 13. Let's Go (The Cars)

Nov 14. Let's Stay Together (Al Green)

Nov 15. Love Of My Life (Queen)

Nov 16. Maybe I'm Amazed (Paul McCartney)

Nov 17. Miss You (The Rolling Stones)

Nov 18. More Than a Feeling (Boston)

Nov 19. One Way Or Another (Blondie)

Nov 20. She's Gone (Hall & Oates)

Nov 21. So Into You (Atlantic Rhythm Section)

Nov 22. Stayin' Alive (you can use "staying alive") (Bee Gees)

Nov 23. Take It Easy (The Eagles)

Nov 24. Thank You (Sly and the Family Stone/Led Zeppelin)

Nov 25. This Is It (Kenny Loggins)

Nov 26. Walk This Way (Aerosmith)

Nov 27. What's Going On (Marvin Gaye)

Nov 28. Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who)

Nov 29. You're My Best Friend (Queen)

Nov 30. You're So Vain (Carly Simon)

[louisupdates]

The fact that Louis Tomlinson performed two covers of One Direction songs at his May 26 show at the Mohegan Sun Arena should not be a surprise.

After all, he was a member of the best-selling boy band and one of its chief songwriters.

The fact that he performed a cover by Arctic Monkeys, however, would be a surprise if you had not updated your vision of Tomlinson since his pop days with 1D.

The rocking performance at the Uncasville arena, thanks to Tomlinson’s honesty and sincerity as he attacked his material, clearly indicated that his preferred sound of the moment is the Brit Pop pioneered by Arctic Monkeys– and not the boy band groove of One Direction.

While his former bandmate Harry Styles has gone all metrosexual sophisticated as he mines his own 21st century brand of smart pop, Tomlinson favors guitar solos and intensity in his post-1D universe.

The Brit has not gone completely Led Zeppelin on us, full of blues and devoid of hooks. There were plenty of catchy melodic turns of phrase that captured the ear beneath the power chords and helped grab hold of the hearts and ears of a primarily female audience that likely had not reached their junior year of high school yet.

The rocking sound was not about career opportunities or slumming. It was clear this is where Tomlinson’s heart and soul belonged.

That said, Tomlinson’s chosen genre also has been a good career choice.

By all rights, since One Direction was launched in 2010 (when Tomlinson was still in his teens), most of the 16-year-olds who swooned over him in the second decade of the 21st century would be at the cusp of their 30s at a concert in 2023. But most of Tomlinson’s fans at the Mohegan were on the younger side of the teens with only a scattering of old school 1D fans in the mix.

Tomlinson’s musical mood swing has revitalized his continuing commercial prospects. His current album, the mighty fine “Faith in the Future” debuted at number 5 on the Billboard charts.

All the more amazing at the Friday night show is that the young crowd at the Mohegan seemed to know every word from each song on Tomlinson’s setlist. At times, they even drowned out the artist.

Tomlinson clearly has snagged the hearts and souls of a new generation of fans.

When I first listened to “Faith in the Future” last year, I was hearing hints of old school emo. But in concert, the Arctic Monkeys’ references were clear. However, even more clear for me was Tomlinson’s fondness for Oasis. That 1990s-era band was prone to Beatle-esque flourishes with grand arrangements that caused the heart to swell and fists to elevate as they were pumped in the air. And many of the songs performed by Tomlinson in Uncasville on this Friday night had those sweeping moments that carried you along to emotional crescendos.

Tomlinson’s rock and roll inclinations carried over to the stage show itself.

The first night of the tour found Tomlinson surrounded by edgy lighting with oblique and abstract video projections. There were a couple of times where the lighting reminded me of something that a band like goth-godparents Bauhaus or Sisters of Mercy would implement. It also reminded me of latter-day David Bowie shows.

Rather than guiding the emotions with videos that tell a story (which many artists will do), Tomlinson’s stage set a mood for the songs and left the internal storytelling of the songs to the fans themselves.

The stage and lighting were the antithesis of what Tomlinson might have found himself in his One Direction days.

One Direction, for most musicians, would be a hard act to follow. But Tomlinson’s Mohegan show demonstrates there is quite a vibrant rock and roll life after Simon Cowell (One Direction’s one-time career commandant) for this singer.

Tomlinson set the stage for a night of rock with his selection of opening acts. Snarls offered up a hard-hitting punkish set with a heavy musical punch. The four-man crew The Academic gave the crowd a melodic new wave-twinged set that would easily have found favor in the colorful days of the 1980s.

PHOTOS 1, 2, 3

[danicalithegirl]

In Through the Out Door...

(Eddie sits at a booth in the dimly lit Hideout, arms crossed, jaw tight. A band is playing on stage, their music rough and off-key. Corroded Coffin sat down, at a nearby table, laughing and muttering. Eddie’s sharp ears pick up on the conversation about you.)

Grant: (snorting) "So, this is the girl Munson’s been hyping up? She better be something special if she’s keeping him from gigs."

Gareth: (laughing) "Yeah, what’s the deal? She’s got him whipped or what?"

Jeff: (grinning) "Bet she’s just another poser. Probably doesn’t even know the difference between Led Zeppelin and Foghat."

(Eddie’s hand tightens into a fist on the table. He grits his teeth, trying to keep his cool, but the remarks keep coming.)

Grant: "What’re the odds she even knows an Iron Maiden song that’s not Run to the Hills?"

Gareth: (grinning) "Bet she calls them 'Iron Man' to sound cool."

(Eddie slams his hands on the table, the sound reverberating through the bar. The band stops laughing, startled. He stands, towering over them, his face red with fury.)

Eddie: (yelling) "You don’t know shit about her! She’s smarter, cooler, and way more into music than you’ll ever be! She’s got more taste in her pinky finger than all of you combined!"

(The band stares at him, stunned into silence. That’s when you appear, walking over with a calm confidence. You place a hand on Eddie’s arm to steady him.)

You: (coolly) "What’s going on, Ed?"

Eddie: (still fuming, gesturing to the band) "These idiots think they can talk trash about you like they know a damn thing!"

(You glance at the band, tilting your head with a small smirk.)

You: "Oh, really? That what you guys were doing?"

Jeff: (mumbling) "We were just joking around..."

You: (crossing your arms) "Uh-huh. Well, let’s see. Do you have a favorite Zeppelin song, Jeff?"

Jeff: (shrugging) "Uh... I dunno, Stairway to Heaven?"

(Eddie snorts derisively, and you give Jeff a pointed look.)

You: "Figures. Mine’s Carouselambra. But I’m guessing you’ve never even listened to In Through the Out Door because it’s not one of the ‘cool’ albums."

(Jeff looks taken aback, scrambling for a response. You don’t give him the chance.)

You: "And since someone mentioned Maiden... I’m partial to Stranger in a Strange Land. Y’know, off Somewhere in Time. Not exactly the radio hit, but that’s probably why it’s so good. But maybe I should stick to 'Run to the Hills,' right?"

(The band sits in awkward silence, completely floored. Eddie beams, folding his arms and leaning back against the booth.)

Eddie: (grinning) "Told you."

(You glance at Eddie, then back at the band.)

You: "Anything else? Or are we good now?"

Grant: (clearing his throat) "We’re good."

Gareth: "Yeah... totally good."

(You pat Eddie’s arm, guiding him back to the booth.)

You: (smirking) "C’mon, Ed. Let’s not waste any more time on them."

Eddie: (following you, still grinning) "That was even better than I imagined. You didn’t just prove yourself—you made ‘em look like amateurs."

(You laugh, leaning against him as the band awkwardly goes back to their table, properly humbled.)

[mattmurdocksstarlight]

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people.

Thank you for tagging me @shouldbestudying41 ❤️❤️

M - Minimum by Muse

A - Arabella by Arctic Monkeys

T - Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles

T - Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino by Arctic Monkeys

M - Misery by The Beatles

U - Unintended by Muse

R - R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys

D - Dragon Attack by Queen

O - One Hit (To The Body) by The Rolling Stones

C - Catapult by Arctic Monkeys

K - Knee Socks by Arctic Monkeys

S - Substitute by The Who

S - Starlight by Muse

T - Time Is Running Out by Muse

A - Achilles Last Stand by Led Zeppelin

R - Resistance by Muse

L - Love is a Laserquest by Arctic Monkeys

I - In Your World by Muse

G - Guiding Light by Muse

H - Hysteria by Muse

T -Taxman by The Beatles

Tagging @chvoswxtch @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @she-likesorchids @hellscupboards @amberlynnmurdock @kayhi808 @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @taliaxxb @mattmurdockscox @babygrlmurdock and who ever else wants to join!!

[littlewalken]

A quick who's who guide to The Cure for baby bats joining the fan club. If you're not sure about any treats ask if Roger made them and that should explain it. :p

The original line up- Robert, Michael, and Lol. Porl/Pearl was with them for a while but not by the time of recording and touring Three Imaginary Boys/Boys Don't Cry. This is the time when Robert first became a Banshee and Lol's encounter with Billy Idol.

Lol, Robert, Matthieu, and Simon, they record Seventeen Seconds, Matthieu will introduce keyboards but not be around long. Perry will see them in concert shortly after Simon joins.

Robert, Simon, Lol, they record Faith and P*rn*graphy eventually self destructing.

Just Robert and Lol will be The Cure for a while as Robert has to decide if he wants to stay with Siouxsie and The Banshees or not. He will also record Blue Sunshine with Steve Severin as The Glove using Andy Anderson to drum and Porl/Pearl Thompson to round out the band for a TV appearance. Robert will use up his supply of drugs they don't make anymore while working on the songs that will appear on Japanese Whispers and The Top.

Robert, Lol, Andy, Phil who plays bass on Lovecats which is part of the reason Simon hates Lovecats.

Phil, Pearl, Robert, Andy, Lol. This is the line up for the Borrowlands and Japanese concert videos. Perry is hired as a roadie around this time.

Phil, Porl/Pearl, Robert, Lol, Vince. After the Japan concert Andy does not continue with The Cure for the American leg of the tour so they bring in Vince Ely (Psychedelic Furs) for a few dates. He is unable to stay with them so Phil uses his contacts to find another drummer.

Lol, Boris, Robert, Porl/Pearl, Phil will finish out the tour. Soon Phil will have commitments to producing other bands and will leave.

Simon, Robert, Lol, Boris, Porl/Pearl. They will record Head on the Door and Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me along with the video Live in Orange. Roger will see one of these shows and not be too impressed. As Lol starts to self destruct it's realized they will need a better keyboard player on tour.

Lol, Boris, Porl/Pearl, Robert. Simon, Roger. Boris will call in his former Thompson Twins touring band member Roger who just finished working with, of all bands, the Psychedelic Furs. They will tour then Robert will invite Roger to stay as they begin working on Disintegration. Anything Lol records for the album will be rerecorded by Roger at Robert's insistence.

Robert, Roger, Porl/Pearl, Boris, Simon. Lol leaves because of personal problems, touring goes on, Roger eventually leaves.

Porl/Pearl, Boris, Simon, Robert, Perry. This line up appears in Play Out, does MTV Unplugged, and makes the Wish album. Porl leaves to start his family but will tour with half of Led Zeppelin and appear in their No Quarter video and album. Jason is among the crowd at Gastonbury with the helicopter incident.

Perry, Simon, Robert, Boris will only play once for the Great Xpectations concert. Boris will leave.

Jason, Simon, Robert, Roger, Perry. They will be the only line up to record three albums- Wild Mood Swings, Bloodflowers, and The Cure. They will do the Trilogy video. Robert will meet Reeves at this time and perform at Bowie's 50th birthday concert. A performance with Placebo will introduce Perry to future Love Amongst Ruin bandmate Steve Hewitt.

Perry and Roger will leave under questionable circumstances leaving Robert, Simon, and Jason as a trio for a short time.

Simon, Jason, Porl/Pearl, Robert. The album 4:13 dream will be recorded, a concert video will be filmed, Porl/Pearl will leave again.

Robert, Roger, Jason, Simon, Lol. The Reflections Tour will be a short lived series of concerts celebrating the first three albums played in full. Roger will stay, Lol will not.

Reeves, Simon, Robert, Roger, Jason. They will do several concert videos, including the 30th anniversary of Disintegration and the 40th of the band, and eventually record and put out Songs of A Lost World.

Simon's son and guitar tech Eden will play two concerts in his place when Simon can't appear for personal reasons.

Perry will be brought back to tour the Songs of A Lost world. Roger is not on the South American leg of the tour but returns.

Almost forgot to add in 2019 ten members of The Cure was inducted in to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Porl/Pearl, Boris, Michael, (Trent from NiN), Lol, Robert, Perry, Jason, Roger, Simon, Reeves.

[feeblefortuity]

// From 'Stressed Eric's Guide To Stress Management'

"When Liz and I divorced, she took most of my record collection with her, and, as a consequence, my listening possibilities, as far as de-stressing goes, were not so much curtailed as liquidized. Here is a complete list of my record collection."

Deep Purple, Made In Japan Deep Purple, Machine Head Lynrd Skynrd, Freebird Bruce Springsteen, Born In The USA The Russian Red Army Choir, Kalinka! Richie Blackmore's Rainbow, Rainbow Rising Great War Movie Themes Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, Brain Salad Surgery Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, Tarkus Jon Hiseman Colosseum II, Strange New Flesh Led Zeppelin IV King Crimson, Starless and Bible Black Judas Priest, Ram It Down Soundtrack from "Platoon" Sex Pistols, Never Mind The Bollocks The Jam, Greatest Hits Zigger Zagger, A Collection of Football Chants Budgie, Never Turn Your Back on a Friend Robin Trower, Bridge of Sighs Bad Company, Straight Shooter Hawkwind, Silver Machine Barry White, Greatest Hits (Cover only, record missing) Jimi Hendrix, Greatest Hits Nazareth, Expect No Mercy The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Live Beethoven, Pastoral Symphony

Slay, king