#john denver fuck yeah

[tricoufamily]

also i finally worked up the courage to see the damage after accidentally not saving beckett's trailer cc. i'm gonna cry

[fractallogic]

just want to say that the salary range of one of the jobs I applied to today was $118-140K, which is such a laughably stupid and unfathomable amount of money that I just shut it out of my brain until I was pondering idly just now

my salary right now is $54K. my only-touch-this-money-for-research-costs stipend is another $15K (so yeah I have access to $69K per year, nice). i can't IMAGINE making basically my entire two year postdoc of pay... in a year.

like I know you get paid better out of academia but holy fuck it has NOT been sinking in

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#379

“Hey Ryan.  I’m hearing all over town that your Pa found out that you are a faggot….  Don’t walk away from me boy!  This ain’t some trap.  I have no problem with you being a sperm burper.  Look, your Pa was going to throw you out of your house.  He was going to come by to pick you up from work and take you to the bus station and leave you with a hundred bucks.  I talked him out of that.  Now get your ass over here.

“Do you recognize me?...  Kinda?  I work for the same company as your Pa.  We don’t interact with each other too much in what we do, maybe once or twice a month.  But today at lunch he was asked by John Gilbert about you, and he got pissed.  He was telling everyone there that he found you giving head to a guy from out of town, and that he was going to kick you out. 

“When everyone sympathized with him and went on their way, I went up to him and told him that I can take help him with his problem.  He looked at me funny… kinda how you are looking at me now.

“Faggot, we may not have interacted other than a glance or two in town or when you would drop in to see your Pa.  I’ve known that you have been sucking dick for a few years now. 

“Oh yeah.  You know that man you were blowing when your Pa saw you?  He’s a good bud of mine.  When Russ comes through town, we usually hang together.  I know he connects with you and has been for a few years.  He tells me all about how he’ll tie you up, sit on your face, and smack you around before pile driving into your cunt.  This visit, he barely had time to say hi to me and to get that infamous blow job from you.

“So yeah, I know about you and your predicament.  Russ was telling me you are a major horndog.  I can easily tell that by the sizeable bulge in your pants, your mouth hanging open, and you can’t stop staring at my chest.  So you like what you see?...

“Of course, you do.  I like that you instinctively address me as ‘Sir.’  Russ also mentioned your natural propensity to submitting to assertive men.  Get closer.  Go on, if you want to touch my chest go ahead. 

“Atta boy.  You are going to see a lot of my chest.  Lick my nipples.  You will find out that my tits are hard wired to my cock.  Oh yeah!  That feels good.  I’m going to train you on how to worship my tits to give me the most pleasure. 

“But first, get out of your work clothes.  I want to see my new toys.  Don’t fucking hesitate.  I waited for everyone to leave; so no one is around.  Don’t make me repeat myself….  Good.  You can expect to be naked back at my farm all the time. 

“Damn, you are big.  Great muscles.  You are definitely one of the cornfed beefy boys around here, not like the nelly fag property I get in Denver or Dallas.  How tall are you?  6’3” and 275 pounds?  Damn boy, how big is that dick?  Eight inches?  Thought so.  Turn around and grab your ankles….  Oooh beautiful beefy ass.  And look at that cunt.  That cunt gets used doesn’t it?

“Besides Russ, who has been in here?...

“Russ can’t be the only one.  There have to be other men to make those lips that puffy.…  You use dildoes?...  I knew it!  You fucking horn dog.  It’s hard to believe that this ass hasn’t been taken by other men, but then again we are six hours from Denver and six from Kansas City and you don’t have a vehicle.

“Stand up.  When I heard your Pa talking shit about you today, I knew I had to own you thinking that you would require a lot of training.  But you seem to have what I’ve been looking for, for a long time. 

“I told your Pa that I would take you off his hands.  As I said, he looked at me kinda strange.  I told him that I would take you to my ranch and he won’t see you again, other than some casual passing by in town.  He was going to tell me to fuck off, until I offered him some cash.  If he took it, he knows he can’t make any waves.  He thought about it and took the money.  I told him that he needs to be gone from his home tomorrow, so we’ll get your shit out of his place.

“Yeah, I bought you.  I don’t have boyfriends or lovers, I have property—always have.  It makes ending the relationship easier when I get bored.  But I think with you, you are going to last a while.  I haven’t had a big beefy bitch boy before. 

“Russ was right, I am going to enjoy using you.  I did talk with him earlier today and asked if I could take you on.  It didn’t feel right not to ask him as he found you first.  He was fine with that as long as he gets to use you when he comes through town.  That’s fine with me.  He told me that you love to eat his ass once he showed you how to do it, that you beg him every time to tongue fuck him.  That’s good because every morning, I set up my morning coffee on my deck.  My property crawls underneath my custom-made rim chair and slurps on my shithole while I begin my day.  And it is a full rimjob, not just licking on the surface.

“Look at your dick, you are leaking more than I have ever seen before by a faggot….  That’s a fucking beautiful sight.  You want all this from me, don’t you?...  Of course you do.  Russ wasn’t giving me the full picture of you.  He says you are a multiple cummer.  I’d like to see that.  In fact, get up in the bed of my truck. 

“Damn, you look good up there.  Step forward.  I want to inspect that cock….  It’s like steel.  This pre-cum of yours is amazing.  Damn!  I completely missed the size of your balls.  They are huge….  You are every inch the bull Russ described.  Let’s get these things drained.

“Over there under that tarp you will find my portable rimseat.  You should also see some wrist and ankle cuffs.  Put the cuffs on first.  You will be secured on the drive home.  All property is treated as cargo….

“Lie down with your head under the rim seat and start jacking off.  Extend your legs to the corners….  A couple D clips and your legs are secure to the truck. 

“I see you jack off left-handed.  Give me your right….  That’s secured too.  After you shoot, I’ll take care of the left.

“OK faggot.  You are the first property I have encountered who hasn’t put up much resistance to becoming owned.  I find that very intriguing. 

“Cum for me.  Shoot it all over your chest.  I want to see the size of your load.  I usually lock up my property’s peckers, but not yours.  I have no desire to do that.  I want that thing used often.  The thing is that I want to know now how fast you recover.

“You are really going to town.  Those balls are flopping all over the place.  Here.  Look up at me.  You look natural under that rim seat.  Normally I prefer property lying behind me for the ass eating, but for now, I want to watch you cum.

“Here comes my shithole.  It is always to be referred to as such.  Sticking your tongue deep inside.  Oh fuck!  Does that feel wonderful.

“Jesus!  You are going to cum already?  Go for it!  Shoot that fucking load!...  Holy shit!...  That’s fucking amazing….  Oh shit, it keeps on cumming. 

“Keep eating my shithole with the same energy you had a minute ago.  Don’t stop eating it until I tell you.  Give me your left hand.  Gonna finish securing you to the truck. 

“Your dick is still dribbling out cum.  When was the last time you came?  …This morning?  And you produced that load.  Jesus Christ.  Normally I put a cock cage on my property, but there is no way I’m going to, or want to, restrain that beast. 

“And those balls!  I also castrate my property and replace what they had with fake balls twice the original size.  Even those fake ones don’t compare to yours.  I may check into augmenting your dick to keep it perpetually hard.  I liked that idea.  I will turn you into a mindless bull.  I’ll take you to Denver or Dallas and watch you destroy fag after fag.

“The one thing I don’t like are your pubes.  You are mostly smooth.  You will look even bigger without that hair.  I’ll have it removed.  Until then….  Pubes yank out so nicely….  Faggot this isn’t going to be all fucking and jacking off for me.  Property needs to know pain.

“It’s been a long time since I have done something new.  When we get home, I’m going to fuck you good.  But that’s after I see your next load and see if it matches this one in size.  That’ll be the lube I use.  After I dump in you, I’ll install you on the dildo machine. 

“Oooh.  Your tongue likes the thought of that.  Do that again.  Oh man!  I’m going to give you an hour to continue to worship my shithole before we head home.  When we get there, I’ll untie you from the truck’s bed. 

“But until then, it’s going to be a nice day.  I’m getting my shithole eaten by my newest property.  I have a fresh bush to yank out one tuft after another to pass the time.  Life doesn’t get any better than this.”

[bit-odd-innit]

"Oh hell yeah." Argyle tips his head down to hang between his knees, clapping reverently and in time as he rises to the next song on Jonathan's mix. "Let's fuckin' goooooooo." Jonathan's nose scrunches around a laugh. "You don't strike me as a John Denver fan." Argyle's arms are up above his head, swaying elegantly in sync with the wind-swept branches above them. Robin is on her feet too, mimicking him, looking like an ancient aunt at a wedding attempting the YMCA. "As far as I'm concerned, dyood," he grabs Robin's wrists and maneuvers her to be somewhere in the neighborhood of the rhythm. "Anyone who's cool with the Muppets? S'cool with me. COUNTRY ROOOOOOADS—" Tonight was meant to be a relaxed night, an evening where the older kids could unwind, but there's an unshakable Finality to it. Jonathan and Argyle are shipping back to California in a few days, and it's a matter of weeks before Robin and Nancy head east for college. Steve's parents at last sold the house (well under asking, his mother loves to remind him) so he's crashing at Eddie and Wayne's Bright Shiny New Ranch for the foreseeable future. Steve's chest sinks. He's never going to be with these people, in this place, ever again.

Beside him, Eddie giggles.

"You amused, Munson?" He asks, rolling his head to the side. They're all more than a little high and more than a little drunk, but Steve and Eddie are the only ones who have fully laid back in the high grass behind the Hopper-Byers home. Steve thinks, briefly, of ticks. The bonfire he and Jonathan cobbled together flares orange, illuminates Eddie's cheekbones. Steve watches his plush pink lips silently mouth the words of the song, eyes closed. Steve's heart clenches. "Big fan of the Muppets, I assume," he says instead of you're everything to me. Eddie's whole face pinches in on itself, caught. "Are you surprised? I'm friends with Henderson, am I not?" Steve's laugh pulls him upright, his fist twisted in Eddie's tee shirt dragging him along for the ride. He's more than a little worried about ticks. Eddie follows him, still giggling, face pushed into Steve's shoulder. Across from them Nancy and Jonathan slow dance. There's something mournful about it; Nancy's hand curved around the back of Jonathan's neck, eyes and jaw hard; Jonathan rubbing his thumb on the small of Nancy's back, eyes watery and set somewhere far in the distance. Nancy's arm flies out and Robin is there at once, curved into her side. Argyle is there too, crushed against Jonathan's back, one hand still wrapped around Robin's wrist.

"Where you from?" Steve asks, feeling as stupid as the question sounds. Eddie squints. "Where d'ya think I'm from, baby?" And ah, God, fuck, shit. Because baby started as a joke. Baby built off their goofy innocuous teasing of darling and sweetheart and my love because they're friends and friends tease, but Eddie called Steve baby and his entire circulatory system collapsed, could only recalibrate by calling Eddie honey, watching his dark eyes go liquid soft, his body melting against him. They're friends. "You're from..." He gestures vaguely. "Not here?" Eddie laughs again, his breath warm against his collarbone.

"I'm from Kentucky," he lets his voice dip into his natural accent and Steve shivers. "I moved here in middle school when Wayne got the job at the factory."

"You miss it?" He tips his head so he mouths the question into Eddie's hair, in the space above his ear. Eddie hums and Steve digs his nails into the underside of his thigh to stop himself from jolting. "I don't remember enough about it to miss it," he says. "But I love this song, and it makes me miss something I don't think I ever had. Does that make sense?" Argyle, who is the closest he's ever been to the East Coast, tips his head back to face the canopy of trees and screams, "WEST VIRGINIAAAAAAAAA—"

Steve leaps to his feet, dragging Eddie with him.

"Dance with me."

Eddie's fingers curve around Steve's. "What about your girl?" "She's fine." Behind them, Jonathan Nancy and Robin kick out the square dance they learned in middle school gym class. Robin is one step behind, dragged along by the elbow Nancy has hooked around her bicep. Argyle watches, nodding and fascinated. Steve pulls Eddie in, chest to chest, hand crawling up to cradle the back of his skull, and murmurs, "take me home..."

He doesn't remember a lot after that. He remembers the thrust of Eddie's body, the soft press of his mouth. He remembers Nancy's squeaky "Oh!", Argyle's affirmative hum, Robin's hyena-like cackle that said he was going to get destroyed tomorrow, and the buzz against his lips. Eddie giggles, pulls him closer. "Take me home," he sings, and Steve thinks, we already are.

[porcelaintoybox23]

BbRob snippets as promised

“Better or worse?”

“Worse.”

The doctor nods before moving the testing machine. Despite the room’s light being dimmed as much as possible, Dick still squints his eyes.

“Your glasses will be ready by next week. We’ll send you an email.”

He nods and fishes out his temporary lenses and flips on the shade attachments. The sun is still out and he can’t drive blind. He’s so tempted to call Alfred, but that would require a ouija board, and this line of humor isn’t funny. Fingers dig into his palms and he’s grateful the glasses hide the tears forming.

Alfred died over a year ago, but it’s only been a few months for him. It was a lovely service, one he couldn’t appreciate because he wasn’t there, Ric was. Dr. Kirk would tell him to work on acceptance, not in the “I’m okay with this” way but in the “You can’t change what happened” way.

He still doesn’t understand the difference. Either way, he’s furious and hurt, and he wants to fall down and scream—

“Mr. Grayson?”

Dick jolts and looks down. The receptionist is eyeing him from a distance, gaze focused on the door handle he’s currently ripping off its screws. Another lovely reminder that he’s no longer fully human.

“Oh. Sorry” He fixes it and hightails it to the car.

God, he’s already so tired and it’s only ten. This appointment was the only thing he had to do today, so he can head home and bury himself under three blankets and a double layer of fuzzy socks. He shivers as the car warms up and checks his phone. Bea messaged while he was inside.

You okay?

Yeah, heading home.

Lmk if you want any food.

***

“Dick?”

“Do I know you?”

“Duh,” he smacks his head. “It’s me Gar, beast boy? I’m just wearing a glamour. Why are you in Colorado?”

“I was looking at an apartment here but it just sold.”

“I don’t mind having a roommate. It’d be like old times.“

***

“Pardon my French *insert the French for your father is a fucking piece of shit.*

“You speak French?”

“I got bored”

***

“Uh, alcohol and antidepressants do not mix.”

***

Gar shifts back to normal and tucks his chin into his shoulder.

“Good morning?” Bea smirks

“I’m realizing that this looks strange.”

***

“Get off.”

“No. I refuse for my grave to read crushed into paste by Dick Grayson’s thighs.”

***

He deepens his voice. “Talon!”

Dick freezes, muscles twitching against the command. He takes a shaky step forward.

“Talon, at ease.”

He finally relaxes to parade rest. “What are your orders?”

I think I’m going to puke.

“Sit down on the couch. Don’t move unless I order you.”

There’s no tension in his stance as he moves. He sits with his hands folded and stares at Gar, waiting for his next command.

Gar gestures Rae to the door.

“Walk out normally. Your magic might freak him out.”

She nods and steps out.

He kneels in front of Dick, making sure to meet his eyes. “Dick?” Nothing.

“Can you tell me five things you can hear?”

“The air conditioner, the dog whimpering, Amalee Vong vacuuming downstairs, a doorbell, and your accelerated heartbeat.”

“Okay. Do you know where we are?”

“Denver, Colorado. Kensington apartment complex, floor 3, room 215.”

Gar nods. The light seems to be returning to his eyes. “Who resides here?”

“You, Garfield Logan, age 23, code name: menagerie.” His hands tremble and Gar holds them.

“And?”

“Richard…John Grayson, commonly known as ‘Dick Grayson’, age 25, codename: Nightwing.”

“And that’s?”

The tremors worsen and Dick pales. “M—me.” He yanks his hands from Gar’s and curls into a shaking ball.

“Dick. Look at me.”

He curls in tighter.

Gar sighs. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you prefer if I changed?”

“No.”

“I’m moving next you, okay?”

“O—okay.”

Gar leans in gently. Dick’s shiver are probably a mix of adrenaline and cold. “I’m wrapping us in the blanket.” He gets no response and proceeds. He drapes it loose around them.

“Could you talk?”

***

“A burden? What the fuck is wrong with you people? Loving someone isn’t a burden, he isn’t a burden! How—how can you…”

He grabs Dick’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

***

Dick’s smirk is threatening to split his face, but he can’t help it. Gar’s eyes shift between him and the mirror, face becoming grumpier with each pass.

“Who do I look like?”

“A kpop idol.”

“I literally hate you.”

***

“Vegetarian sushi. It’s all the rage in SoCal.”

He gestures with the chopsticks. “C’mon, it’s good I swear.”

***

Dick blinks as the code he’s writing becomes an endless stream of gibberish.

“Gar, what the hell?”

The cat rolls its eyes. “It’s 2 am, go to sleep.”

***

“This is a complete and utter waste of my powers and time.”

Dick flashes his strongest puppy dog eyes. “Please, Rae?”

She sighs. “Gar is taller by 2cm.”

Dick’s jaw drops as Gar cheers. “What do you mean he’s taller?”

“You’re both pretty short. It’s just a few centimeters, who cares?”

“Centimeters broke up the Pines twins!”

Gar gives him the stink eye. “It was a millimeter, Richard.” He looks to Raven. “Fake fans, am I right?”

Rae disappears in a plume of smoke.

“If she keeps doing that, we’ll never get our deposits back.”

***

“My uncle tried to kill me for my inheritance which wasn’t great. “

“It’s hard. I miss my parents but they weren’t always there, y’know? They dragged me all over for their research and it nearly killed me. I like being a vigilante but there are times that I wish I was normal, that I was still human and didn’t have ptsd from experimentation and Armageddon.”

“Which one?”

They both share a humorless smirk.

***

“So…wanna see the Barbie movie?”

Dick blinks. “S—sure?”

“Two tickets, please.”

“I hate that it was good. Why was it good? You’re the detective here. Explain.”

Dick shrugs. “Some things are inexplicable.”

***

“Okay, let’s do this.”

“You look like you’re heading to the chair”.

Gar sneezes. “It’s 32 degrees.”

***

“You’re sick.”

“just a cold.” His voice cracks and bends as he strains to reply. “Go to your thing.”

Dick throws a blanket over his shoulders and heads to the kitchen.

“Already asked for the day off.”

“You did this when we were titans. Pretend you’re fine, hide yourself away and suffer alone. Can’t say I’m any better.”

“Old habits die hard.”

***

Gar rubs his stinging eyes. “Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry.”

Dick feels empty, deflated. The confrontation he’s been dreading went to shit and the only person reacting normally is his friend.

“I just don’t get it. Like—how…ugh I’m making this about me. How are you?”

Honestly, a bit in awe. Few people can withstand Bruce’s glare, much less the full wrath of all the bats, yet Gar did. Stood unflinching, eyes glowing in animalistic rage on his behalf.

“I’ll be fine. I didn’t expect that to go well.”

***

“Where do your clothes go?”

“I don’t know and at this point I’m too afraid to learn”

***

You’re the type of person who makes tea in the microwave

[little-annie]

✏️ WIP Wednesday

Because why not add another couple to the pile.

●Metalhead!Steve 4+1

Only within recent weeks has the thrill of thievery become something of Steve Harrington's liking. There’s no need for it of course. Sure his allowance recently got cut down to nothing, and his mother has been keeping a closer eye on the change in her purse, but his fathers credit card is always within easy reach. The cash flow in the Harrington home knows no bounds and, if Steve skims a little off the top it's not like it's going to hurt anyone.

There’s no need to steal, but there’s a want. A need for the rush, for the thrill. For the blood boiling desire of pursuing shelves and sliding his next cassette into his jacket sleeve with just the single slip of the finger. He's done it enough times now to have amassed a decent size collection. Ozzy, Sabbath, Anthrax, Dio, Motorhead, Zeppelin, John Denver.

● Camping Au/ No S4

“Munson? Really?” Steve sighs down the phone line, thunking his head against the wall near the jack and wincing when the action causes a small bloom of pain in his skull. He doesn't even hear Dustin's continued nattering as he sings the praises of one Eddie Munson. Hawkins Freak, known metalhead, presumed satanist and assumed ga-

“Steve, come on!” Dustin interrupts his train of thought and truthfully for the better, he doesn't need to let his mind wander there, or the other scrawlings of the man's assumed nefarious activities on the bathroom stalls. He rubs his now ringing ear as Dustin continues, “He's a good guy. You'll like him, you just have to give him a chance.”

A chance. 

“A chance?” Steve eventually answers. “Is that what you call spending a week in the woods together?” The only entertainment of which being the gremlins and the constant hijinks they seem to ensue. Which yeah, he loves the kids, he'd put his life on the line for them, has many times in fact but… But camping? With the entire monster hunting squad, minus the adults, plus Munson? And apparently company? Some cheerleader Dustin said, you'll know her, Steve, Dustin said.

What's Munson doing hanging around with a cheerleader anyway?

He sighs again. Loud and long, thunking his head against the wall until blackness blooms in his eyes. “Fine. Fine! Sure whatever.” 

Here's to a week of whatever the fuck this trip is going to be.

“Shit yeah!” 

Before Steve can berate the kid for his language, the dial tone of a deadline rings in his ear.

What has he gotten himself into?

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: The members of Greta Van Fleet agree to do an interview with the Human Napkin himself, Nardwuar, and find themselves ridiculously unprepared for his interview style.

Words: 2k

Warnings: language, some sexual innuendos (kinda?), mentions of stalking, the void™️

Notes: Shoutout to @skywaydrifter for the amazing fic idea, and sending me down a wild Nardwuar binge-fest

----------------------------------------------

Nardwuar theme plays with the animated intro video. The shot opens to show NARDWUAR standing in front of an impressive display of vinyl records, next to JOSH KISZKA. 

NARDWUAR: How are you?

Nardwuar shoves his microphone into Josh’s face. Josh flinches back a bit, but then leans into the microphone.

JOSH: Absolutely groovy. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me who you are. 

JOSH: That’s a bit of a loaded question. I’m a dreamer, a mere mortal, a man with a dream…

NARDWUAR: Your name. 

JOSH: Oh. Josh Kiszka. Frontman for the group, Greta Van Fleet. 

Josh curtsies to the camera.

NARDWUAR: Welcome to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And right off the bat, I have a gift for ya.   

JOSH puts a hand over his heart and looks at the camera in shock.

JOSH: Now I feel bad, I didn’t bring you anything. 

NARDWUAR (continued): I’ve got this 1966 album, All About Miriam. 

JOSH: (taking the album and cradling it in his arms) Oh my goodness.

NARDWUAR: I heard that you’re a fan. 

JOSH: Miriam Makeba? Oh yeah, she’s one of my favorites. My parents had a few of her albums that they would play all the time when I was younger. She’s got such a rich voice, I can only dream of sounding like that. 

NARDWUAR: But you do have a pretty distinct voice that I’m sure a lot of people are jealous of. How did you find that sound? 

JOSH: I started screaming and then I guess I kind of found my way, eventually. (chuckles) No, but actually, my vocal coach, Ron, I call him “The Master” because he genuinely saved my vocal cords. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. 

NARDWUAR: How do you do it? Is it special vocal warmups? Some kind of mystery technique? 

JOSH: Well, you see, if I told you, I’d have to kill you. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got another gift for you here, Josh. 

JOSH: Oh god, now I feel super bad. 

NARDWUAR: Costumes are a big part of your stage presence. Here, I’ve got a piece that might look familiar to you. 

Nardwuar holds out Josh’s infamous golden pants, and Josh reluctantly takes them.

JOSH: Oh boy, I forgot how shiny and see through these were. 

NARDWUAR: You wore these in the sweltering sun on the iHeart Radio festival stage in Las Vegas, Nevada on Saturday, September 22, 2018, didn’t you? 

JOSH: I’m not sure if these are the exact pair…

NARDWUAR: They are. 

JOSH: Huh? Did you dig them out of the dumpster or something? 

NARDWUAR: Now, Josh, can you tell me about Sean Reyes?

Josh looks at Nardwuar with intense skepticism.

JAKE: (offscreen) What the fuck? 

JOSH: Now how do you know about Sean Reyes? 

NARDWUAR: It’s Josh Kiszka trivia!

Josh squints at Nardwuar, uncertain.

JOSH: Sean Reyes was my third grade teacher. 

NARDWUAR: And he was the one who encouraged you to write poetry, right? 

JOSH: Yes…..

NARDWUAR: Like haikus? 

JOSH: Mr. Reyes would play a lot of folk stuff for us, like John Denver, Joni Mitchell, all the classics, and he could tell I really dug it. He pulled me aside after class, showed me some of his favorite lyrics, and explained how it was a form of poetry. I took that to heart and spent a lot of time outside of class writing poems after that.

NARDWUAR: Were they any good? 

JOSH: Well, some lines ended up in our songs, so you tell me. 

NARDWUAR: Well, I heard your twin brother behind the camera just now. Let’s bring him out here. Come here, Jake! 

JAKE joins Josh’s side in front of the camera, looking nervous. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding eye contact with Nardwuar.

NARDWUAR: Hello, Jake. 

JAKE: (short) Hi. 

NARDWUAR: I have a gift for you. 

JAKE: Uh, okay. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a poster from H.O.R.D.E. Festival at Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana featuring big names like Blues Traveler, The Black Crowes, and Taj Mahal from 1995. Something important happened at this festival, right? 

Jake pales.

JAKE: Uh. Uh. 

Josh is staring pretty hard at Nardwuar.

JAKE: (to Josh) There’s no way he knows about that. How could he know about that? 

Nardwuar sneaks the microphone closer into Jake’s mouth. 

NARDWUAR: Well? 

JAKE: Okay, uh, they might kill me for admitting this on camera, but my parents are pretty sure that’s where Josh and I were conceived. 

NARDWUAR: Do you like Taj Mahal? 

Jake struggles to rebound from that 180. 

JAKE: Um (beat) yeah. I’d list him as a big influence. 

NARDWUAR: And another gift for Jake Kiszka! 

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) This guy freaks me out. 

NARDWUAR: Here you go! 

Nardwuar tosses Jake a ziploc bag containing something brown. Jake’s reflexes get the better of him and he grabs the bag out of the air, and then blankly studies what’s in his hands. 

JAKE: What the actual fuck. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what you’re holding there! 

JAKE: Hair. It’s my hair. 

JOSH: What??

JAKE: I’m not even joking. This is what they chopped off, like, last year before our second leg of the Dreams in Gold Tour. 

JOSH: (growing defensive of his brother) Where did you get that from?

NARDWUAR: What was the reason for the big chop? 

JAKE: I could have sworn my hairdresser said she was going to donate that. 

NARDWUAR: Oh, she did. 

JAKE: I’m sorry, what? 

SAM bounds into the scene in front of the camera, looking energetic. 

SAM: This is fun! Do me now! 

NARDWUAR: Sam Kiszka! Alright, Jake. Thanks and doot doola doot doo…

JAKE: Huh? 

NARDWUAR: (finishing for Jake) Doo doo! (turns to Sam) I have a question for you. 

Sam is hopping from foot to foot and clapping his hands with glee while Jake confusedly wanders off camera.

SAM: Fire away! 

NARDWUAR: Your aunt works at State Farm in Chicago. 

DANNY: (offscreen) That’s not a question. 

JOSH: How could you possibly know that? 

NARDWUAR: Have you ever had to file a claim with her? 

SAM: Well, actually one time…

JOSH: Ssh! Don’t tell him anything. 

NARDWUAR: (entirely unbothered) I have a gift you might like, Sam! 

SAM: Oh my god! You guys aren’t gonna believe this. It’s my birth certificate! 

JOSH: What kind of interviewer are you?? 

NARDWUAR: I’m just a fan, guys, just a fan. I love your music! 

Sam’s phone rings. 

SAM: Whoops, sorry. I know this is unprofessional but, one sec. I gotta take this. 

Instead of going off camera to answer the phone in private like a normal person, Sam answers the phone and puts it on speaker. 

SAM (continued): Y’ello? 

KAREN: (obviously shaken) Sam? 

SAM: Hey Mom, what’s up? 

KAREN: Are you boys alright? 

Josh grabs the phone from Sam. 

JOSH: Mom? What’s going on? 

KAREN: Someone broke into our house while your dad and I were on our trip. We’re worried it might have been a stalker since they took a lot of your possessions and some important documents. 

JOSH: Oh my god, are you okay? 

KAREN: Fine, just a bit shaken up. But, I’m so sorry, they stole Sammy’s birth certificate. 

Sam calls into the phone over Josh’s shoulder.

SAM: Don’t worry about it, Mom! I just got it gifted back to me! 

Josh hands Sam his phone and rushes away. 

JOSH: (screaming offscreen) RICHARD! WE NEED BACKUP!

KAREN: I’m gonna have to call my sister to file a claim. They broke a crazy amount of our windows. Like, way more than they needed to. What a headache.

DANNY: (to Nardwuar) You have a lot of explaining to do. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got a gift for you, Daniel! 

Nardwuar pulls out a pack of old Beatles cards. 

DANNY: I don’t want it. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a pack of 1964 Beatles collector’s cards, in mint condition! 

DANNY: Wait, I do want it. 

Danny takes the cards from Nardwuar and looks at them with delight. 

NARDWUAR: You’re a big fan of the Beatles, right? 

DANNY: Oh yeah, I always have been.

JAKE: You’re not seriously continuing this interview. 

DANNY: (while opening and flipping through the pack of cards) I mean, this is a pretty cool gift. 

JAKE: (evidently at his wit’s end) This guy 100% broke into my family’s house, and he for sure did the same to your parents. 

NARDWUAR: Would you say there was a specific Beatles album that most inspired you? 

DANNY: Definitely Rubber Soul. I loved hearing them try folk. 

Jake throws up his hands in exasperation. 

DANNY: Norwegian Wood genuinely changed my life. 

NARDWUAR: In what way? 

JAKE: Nope, we’re not doing this anymore. 

Jake thrusts his finger up into Nardwuar’s face. 

JAKE (continued): What else did you take from us, you son of a bitch? 

NARDWUAR: Does it count as “taking” if I give it back to you? 

JAKE: Yes! 

NARDWUAR: I’d beg to differ. 

DANNY: (looking through his cards) Woah! I’ve never seen this photo of Ringo Starr before! 

Josh comes rushing back to the scene with their bodyguard and pal, RICHARD. 

RICHARD: (scanning around on full alert) Where is he? 

JOSH: (shrill, pointing at Nardwuar) There! 

Nardwuar simply grins at Richard. 

NARDWUAR: Can you tell me about Grubbyknot? 

Richard is obviously thrown off, and he lets down his guard. 

RICHARD: Huh? Grubbyknot? That was my metal band in high school. But we only played like two shows. One was in my parent’s garage. 

JOSH: Don’t let him get into your head, Richard! You’re our big guns, we can’t lose you! 

SAM: Do you have another gift for me, Nardwuar? 

Nardwuar stares at Sam, entirely expressionless. 

NARDWUAR: No, I don’t. Doot doola doot doo…

SAM: Doo-doo? 

Upon Sam’s words, he vanishes into thin air. Jake is so terrified, he falls to the ground and cowers on the floor. 

JAKE: Jesus Christ! 

NARDWUAR: I usually like to speak with only 1-2 people at a time on camera. It’s getting a little bit too crowded for me right now. 

Nardwuar looks at Danny, whose attention is finally away from his cards, and is gawking at the empty space where Sam was just standing. 

NARDWUAR: (continued, making eye contact with Danny) Doot doola doot doo…

Danny stares back at Nardwuar in horror, his mouth sealed shut. Nardwuar sings the little tune again, holding his microphone up to Danny to finish it. 

JAKE: (cutting in) Doo doo! (beat) Fuck! 

Jake disappears. 

JOSH: (explaining to Richard and Danny) He has this condition where he can’t handle hearing an unfinished tune. Poor guy has a curse.

NARDWUAR: Just one more to go. 

Nardwuar focuses his attention back to Danny. 

DANNY: Where did you send them? 

NARDWUAR: To another place. 

DANNY: Super helpful, thanks. 

NARDWUAR: Don’t mention it. 

DANNY: Are they still alive? 

NARDWUAR: I can’t see why not. I’m a fan! I wouldn’t hurt you guys. 

Danny sighs. 

DANNY: Okay. Send me away so I can do some damage control. 

RICHARD: No!��

NARDWUAR: Doot doola doot doo…

DANNY: (unenthused, clapping his hands on the beat) Doo doo.

Danny is gone. 

RICHARD: My boss is gonna kill me. 

JOSH: I’m pretty sure I’m your boss. 

Richard widens his eyes and holds his hands up in a defensive position, backing slowly away from Josh. 

JOSH (continued): Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, Richard. 

RICHARD: You did dump an entire bag of flour over my head that one time. And kicked that giant chocolate bar in my hands. And swung a folding chair at me backstage. 

JOSH: All tiny, insignificant hiccups.

NARDWUAR: Josh, you’re gonna love this next thing that I’ve got for you. 

JOSH: Please, no. 

Nardwuar hands Josh a Scooby Doo plushie. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what that is. 

Josh studies the stuffed animal, trying to discern how it has any relevance to him. 

JOSH: Scooby Doo? 

NARDUWAR: What was that second word?

JOSH: Doo?

NARDWUAR: Wait. Say it again? (under his breath) Doot doola doot doo…

JOSH: Doo? 

Nardwuar taps on his ear, signaling that he didn’t hear Josh. Josh huffs and rolls his eyes. 

JOSH (continued, enunciating maybe a little bit too much): Doo! 

Josh disappears. 

NARDWUAR: Well, this has been fun. Keep on rockin’ in the free world and doot doola doot doo…

It’s silent around him since there’s no one there to finish his jingle. Nardwuar continues to grin wider and wider until he’s nearing uncomfortably close to uncanny valley. 

The scene shifts to a confusing plane seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. A pattern reminiscent of Nardwuar’s red and green plaid Tammy cap stretches from the floor to the sky. Josh and Richard appear in the mysterious space, Josh screaming with terror. 

JAKE: Hey. 

DANNY: Nice of you to join us. 

It takes a while for Josh to collect himself but, when he does, he notices Jake and Danny standing in front of him. 

JOSH: Where’s Sammy? 

DANNY: He went to take a piss. 

RICHARD: Hey, wait, I didn’t say the doo doo thing. Why am I here? 

Josh shrugs. 

JOSH: We must be a package deal or something. 

RICHARD: That’s wildly unfair. 

SAM: (off in the distance) Woah, I had a lot more in my bladder than I thought. I wouldn’t come over here if I were you, guys. I can cross “building a manmade lake” off my bucket list.

JAKE: God, I need to get out of here. 

DANNY: And how are we gonna do that, Jake? 

Jake has no clue. He’s frankly dumbfounded. 

The scene jumps back to Nardwuar, still in front of the records. He seems unaware that the camera is still rolling. 

NARDWUAR: (to someone offscreen) Yeah, yeah. They should be gone for good. Yup. The plaid void, where I sent Dave Rowntree. We should be good to steal their identities now. God knows we’ve done enough research. 

Back in the plaid void. 

DANNY: Holy shit, is that Dave Rowntree?

RICHARD: The guy from Blur? 

DAVE ROWNTREE: CURSE YE FOUL BEAST, NARDWUAR! 

Fin.  

Note: The names/facts listed in the interview within this fic are all entirely fictitious. I'm not about to start leaking private and personal information about the guys.

[ckret2]

Would Bill like

1. ABBA

2. Grateful dead

3. Mitski

4. Vocaloid (things like Kikou, Echo by Creeper-p, and Again also by Creeper-p

5. Kate Bush

Idk these were things I thought he'd like

For those of y'all just getting here, I'm using this list here as my guidelines for What Music I Believe Bill Cipher Would Like, Loosely Based On Canon.

1. Yeah I think he'd like ABBA (or, y'know, BABBA, as the case may be). He likes party music and that's like, party music of the 70s—though I imagine he lost interest in them as they stopped being contemporary.

But more importantly, it gives me the mental image of Dipper singing Disco Girl and Bill Fucking Cipher joins in like "I LOVE THIS SONG!" He'd be mortified.

Now I'm just thinking of parody song titles for BABBA. "Hand Me! Hand Me! Hand Me! (A Guy Late At Night)." "Mommy Mama." "The Loser Takes Nothing." "Dollars, Dollars, Dollars." "Superb Soldier."

2. Now, I've said I think Bill is all over well-known psychedelic music, so you'd think Grateful Dead would be top of the list; but when I sit and listen to their top hits, it makes me think less In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida or Jefferson Airplane, and more John Denver, so thus far I've passed over them. But digging a bit deeper I'm finding more stuff that gives me Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds vibes, so this is probably just a sign that I need to finally fill in the Grateful Dead-shaped hole in my mental musical library like I've been meaning to do for years. I'm gonna tentatively say "yes" just due to the fact that it's the Grateful Dead, but I haven't listened to them enough to say WHAT he'd enjoy.

3. I will grant that it's very funny to imagine Bill laying on a bed staring at the ceiling while "NOBODY, NOBODY, NOBODY—" blasts at top volume. However I think the main reason it's funny is because it's jarringly incongruous. Most of Mitski's music is dreamy-sounding, deeply introspective, and carried not by simple pop-friendly melodies but by the the complexity & poetry of the lyrics—and I think all of those are things Bill tends to steer away from. "Can you take psychedelics to it in the back of a van with tie-dye tapestries on the wall?" or "Can you rave to it?" covers most of his casual music listening.

(However, I do think he's got an ex girlfriend who did beat poetry that sounds kinda like Mitski lyrics as performed by a screaming death metal band. Someday I'll get around to drawing some of his exes.)

4. I say this as somebody who loves "Again" and "Echo"—I think he'd hate them, & probably most of Kikuo's music. There's a vast breadth of Vocaloid music—it's not really a genre so much as it is an instrument—and while I don't necessarily think he'd outright reject anything made with Vocaloid, I do think he'd steer away from the lyrically darker music. Like I said, I don't think he likes deeply introspective music. This triangle hasn't acknowledged or explored a negative emotion in a bajillion years and he's not about to start now. I mean, come on:

Cause I am on fire; a crying, burning liar; seeing nothing, nothing, but myself; and I'm the one with the lighter!

Is that about Bill? Sure, that's about Bill!!! You could insert it into the middle of the axolotl poem and hardly even notice.

(Making this was a mistake, in my head I started singing "if he wants to shirk the blame, he'll have to invoke my name" to the tune of "Again". Unplanned new headcanon voice for the Axolotl.)

However, "this describes Bill well" doesn't mean "Bill would like this." In fact, I think "this describes Bill well" almost guarantees that Bill would dislike a particular song. The fact that "Again" has such an apt description of him is exactly why he'd despise it. If you try to play this in his hearing, he's blowing up the speaker, burning down the house, turning your head into an ice cream cone and biting it off, and then telling his stunned silent friends that he got tired of this whiny boring music now let's go destroy something fun. Assuming he doesn't simply show no reaction to it at all so that he can avoid showing weakness.

Just about any songs about doubt, remorse, or bad feelings are gonna get the same reaction out of him. He doesn't wanna touch them with a ten foot pole. Music is for partying, music is for escapism. I can see him enjoying a darker song if it's framed in a way that invites the listener to derive voyeuristic schadenfreude from the singer's suffering—but if it's meant to confront you or discomfort you, or if listeners are expected in any way to personally identify with the lyrics, he's not touching it.

I could potentially see him listening to some of Kikuo's music if he can engage it STRICTLY as a party song. For instance, Gomenne Gomenne has sections that make it a solid dubstep song—with frenetic wordless singing on top, I think that'd appeal to Bill—so he might could put it on at a party... as long as the party is loud enough that he doesn't have to pay any attention to the lyrics about horrific child abuse and the resultant trauma. Maybe find a remix that leaves out all the lyrics about low self-esteem, brokenness, and worthlessness—but leave in the bits about rib soup, he thinks that part's funny once the context is removed. Violence is great, he just doesn't wanna be expected to pity someone.

It's a big stretch, though. If I had to pick Vocaloid songs for him, I'd look for either party-ready EDM with relatively bland lyrics or the really experimental pieces that do ear-hurting insane discordant things by pushing the Vocaloid program to the limits of the sounds it can generate; but I probably wouldn't pick Vocaloid for him at all.

5. I don't have anything special to say about Kate Bush, I just don't think anything about her music would intrigue him but there's nothing about it that would specifically deeply rub him the wrong way. Since I assume he's passingly familiar with most notable popular/mainstream artists, I'm sure he's heard her hits, he could probably sarcastically bang out a few bars of "Running Up That Hill" on the piano if he ever somehow found himself in a situation where sarcastic "Running Up That Hill" would be fitting; but the same could be said of any other chart-topping musician.

[trashbag-baby666]

Home is Where the Heart is-Curt/Ken

What’s Waited Till Tomorrow Starts Tonight au

Summary: Curt's home from Denver and the inevitable reunion is bound to take place.

Wc: 2,060

c/w: implied abuse, ptsd, arguing.

mota masterlist!

Series masterlist! | ao3 link

“I got it! I got it!” Curt swatted at Sawyer's lingering hand on his waist. 

“Last time I try and help. You can fall down the stairs next time.” Sawyer barked in response. Some things didn't change, like being around your sibling all day. 

“Got a whole peanut gallery to go up the fuckin’ steps.” Curt shook his head moving his crutches onto the steps to help pull himself up to the next one. He didn’t really understand why John had his hands on his hips standing on the deck like some meemaw about to bust his ass.

“Goddamn it, Curt, I just wanted to ask you how your day was.” 

“Jus’ fine, Johnny.” He shouldered past him, opening up the screen door to let himself in. He just wanted to be home, being in Denver had his head stuck on Ken all day. A nagging reminder biting his neck over and over again that he fucked up and couldn’t take it back. He wished John would just take a goddamn hint sometimes, although he didn’t mean it. The initial anger from the last two months that he didn’t have, had been building up. The hopeless optimism had been slowly dissipating out of him, hell, maybe he should be in a good mood today. They told him he’d be able to schedule a prosthetic fitting, but the self hatred built up first.

But he did put on a smile for Gale, he didn't deserve any of his attitude. Not that John did but it was just easy to be mean to him, yeah he’d apologize later.

“How was your appointment?” Gale came out of the kitchen, but it just felt strangely off. Gale kept shifting his weight back and forth, he narrowed his eyes at him. He rested his hand on the wall leaning against his stuck out arm, seemingly blocking the kitchen. His gaze seemed to be more past him than at him. 

“It went, alight’,  said they-”Curt nearly lost his balance but at the same time he felt like an entire truck of cement was poured over him. His brain getting completely wiped of any thought he’d ever had. His whole body froze in place, his big blue eyes wide with shock, his lips slightly parted. There Ken stood right behind Gale equally frozen and shocked. Cordelia in his arms completely unphased by the events happening around her. 

“Kenny?” Curt’s voice barely audible if it hadn't been for the pin dropping silence. 

Gale took Cordelia from him and stepped out of his pathway to Curt.

“Curtie?” Ken’s hands came up to his face covering his mouth and nose in shock. Suddenly, hot tears were on his face and he took the few steps to Curt and threw his arms around his neck in a tight embrace, careful not to knock him over.

A familiar scent washed over Curt as he took in a small breath, that warm almost natural vanilla scent Ken always had. He felt skinnier when his arms went around him but unfortunately he wasn’t surprised considering the littered bruises on his soft, pale skin. 

“Let’s sit down, sweet boy, ya?” Curt tipped his head up a bit to place a kiss to a spot on his jawbone that wasn’t bruised or cut. 

The two’s moment’s seemed awkward and clunky, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Ken took a few long strides in front of Curt but then remembered he couldn’t move as fast as he used to. 

Curt sat down first and tossed his crutches aside, Ken standing by the arm of the couch unsure of what next. 

“Is this alright?” Curt gently took Ken's hand in his, upon the other nodding Curt gently patted the spot beside him. 

Ken’s breath caught in his throat upon seeing Sawyer bring in Curt’s bag. The neatly folded tie blanket resting on top of the desert camo duffel. 

“What's wrong?” Curt gently let go of his hand but then his eyes met Ken's gaze.

“You still have yours?” Ken's eyes brimmed with tears, he sat next to him and grabbed the blanket. He ran his hand over the faded, piled up yellow bumblebee fabric. His blanket he had tucked safely away in the guest room with his bag, a habit of his. It’s how he kept things out of Dom’s blind rage path, if he valued something he had to hide it. Truthfully, the only reason he had been able to hold onto the blanket is because Dom didn’t know it was from Curt. 

Way back in High School the pair made them as a little date night activity, they each picked a fleece and made the tie blankets. They were certainly a sight to see, Curt had picked skulls and flames and Ken had yellow bumble bees and flowers fleece.

“‘Course I still have it.” Curt unfolded the blanket carefully and wrapped it around Ken's shoulders. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Without even thinking Ken grabbed Curts left wrist gently and placed a long kiss on the faded K and heart tattoo like he always used to. 

“God, I missed you Curtie.”

—------------

Later that evening while the crickets chirped and the cicadas sang, Curt had on that thousand yard, soldier stare. His cigarette burning between his fingers staring into the nothingness of the woods. The trees swaying in the breeze provided another instrument to nature's white noise. 

“It’s scarin’ me you’re not saying much.” John sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The silence that had been passing between the two was enough words. Part of John just wanted to know what Curt was thinking.

Curt huffed out a dry laugh, “too many things in my head, not enough words to say ‘em.” 

He flicked his cigarette, bringing it to his lips again for another hit, his next words coming out choked with emotion, “I’m so fucking sad for him Johnny. And so goddamn angry at- at how someone could even do something like this to him. I shoulda tried harder, not pushed him away like that I- I shoulda been there this whole time, even from over there.”

“You didn’t know this was going to happen, none of us did.” John ran a hand down his face, holding out his hand for the cigarette. Curt passed it without a second thought.

“He just showed up?”

“Yeah, out of nowhere. We were about to go to bed.” John exhaled the smoke that quickly burned his lungs, punishing him for the drag, “Saw his motorcycle first, then him pacing.” 

“What did he say?” 

“Didn’t say anything about the bruises if that’s what you mean.” John tipped his head up looking at the open sky above them. His fingers tapping against the wide arm of the deck chair, he kept pulling his bottom lip over his teeth then back out. Curt could tell he was stressing about something more, John's anxious ticks hadn’t changed since high school. 

“Do you think it was…?” Curt didn’t need to finish his sentence and John nodded again. He started nipping at his own knuckles debating on what he should tell Curt, what was enough to keep him from spiraling? 

“Couple months ago, right after you got here. Buck hadn't heard from him in a while. We were gettin’ ready for bed and Kenny called. It was probably a solid 30 seconds of silence and he hung up…Buck tried calling him back but it just kept going to voicemail. We didn’t hear from him again till yesterday…” John stared into the sky, mentally identifying all the constellations he could see. 

“Did you know where he was?”

“No, I kept telling him we should go find him. He disagreed, said we should leave it alone.” John pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead letting out an airy noise sitting back in the chair.

“Why?” 

“He was scared of scaring him off. Said he would know,” John paused, his breath catching in his throat, “Thinks he knows more than me because he went to school.” 

John mumbles out, his hand reaching for Curts cigarette without moving his gaze. 

“Whaddya mean by that, Johnny?” 

“He just thinks he’s right about everything. We haven’t really been talkin’ since last night.”

“So youse and Buck are fighting, huh?” Curt wasn’t stupid either, the past couple weeks he could feel the difference in tensions between the two. 

“No, we’re not fighting.”

“You literally just told me you two barely talked since last night.” Curt barked his line of vision moving to meet Johns. 

John sat back defeated, he steepled his fingers at his lips but stayed silent. 

“Well, fightin’ is probably just the last thing Kenny needs going on.” 

“I know.” 

“Go and make up with him, Bucky.”

“Now?” 

“It gonna kill ya if you don’t hold a grudge for another twenty minutes?”

John rolled his eyes pressing down on the arm rests of the chair to push himself up, “You comin’ in?”

“After I finish this,” Curt brought another cigarette up to his lips and reached for his lighter off the table. John just nodded, turning on his heels he shut the sliding glass door. 

Gale and Ken picked up their heads at the noise seeing him standing at the opposite end of the couch. He looked down at the blanket resting over the back and began picking at it. 

“Can we talk, dear?”

“Yeah,” the blonde nodded looking down at Ken who sat curled up next to him. He nodded and let Gale go from his grasp.

John listened to Gales footsteps behind him up the stairs, he felt his heart pounding against his chest​​, each beat a reminder of the tension simmering between them. He was sick of fighting with Gale yet, he was doubting their ability to come to a common ground.

“So?” Gale waited, his arms crossed around his chest just cementing how closed off John felt from him. 

“Curt said we should talk it out,” John shrugged, “Don’t know, we got 'em home. Everything seems to be going fine.”

“And if it’s not fine?” Gale’s brow furrowed, his voice tinged with worry and frustration. “I’m not totally sold, this won’t be too much for Ken?”

“And for Curt? Are we just kicking him to the curb then?” 

“John, you know I don’t mean it like that–”

“Like what?” John took a step closer, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Curt’s not going anywhere, I just don’t think we thought this through enough.”

“And you know everything because you almost have a degree.” John’s tone was sharp enough to cut. 

“John,” Gale’s eyes pleaded for understanding.

“No! 

“We always do things your way, Gale. Did we not go through with your unthought out plan, today?” 

“Well that seemed to be the one everyone agreed with.”Gale’s arms fell to his sides, the tension in his shoulders visible. John crossed his arms now, mirroring Gale’s earlier stance.

“And what if it went bad?” John crossed his arms now, mirroring Gale’s earlier stance.

“I’m not doing this right now,” Gale rubbed his brow, his eyes closed and energy worn thin, “We can think two different ways.”

Gale turned away, his footsteps heavy with the weight of unresolved conflict. It was clear he was done fighting for the night.

John watched him go, the distance between them feeling too far to amend. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stood there, pondering if his marriage was gonna end hardly after it started. 

In the quiet that followed, he sank onto the edge of their bed, his head in his hands. He felt the weight of their arguments, their unresolved issues, and the fear that they might never find common ground. He heard Gale’s footsteps retreat to the kitchen, the clinking of dishes a stark reminder of the normalcy they both craved but couldn’t quite grasp.John took a deep breath, his mind racing. He knew they needed to find a way to communicate better, to understand each other’s fears and hopes. But for tonight, the silence would have to be too loud. He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much more their relationship could endure. How much more of him Gale could endure?

- - taglist: @austeenbootler @coastiewife465 @executethyself35 @slowsweetlove

[zannolin]

🛒🎶 for the fic ask game :)

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

so i literally made a bingo sheet for my fics because i am truly writing the same fic over and over again. stand-outs include: talking about ribs and skinned knees, astronomical metaphors, compass references, oranges, the inherent tragedy of growing up, friendship or familial estrangement, rooftop bonding scenes, how fucking miserably angry being fifteen makes you, giving characters highly specific music or reading tastes (you can pry abba fan jason walker, owl city girlie billy batson, and annie dillard reader mike wheeler from my cold dead hands btw), jigsaw puzzles, grief, and the mug of stars.

thematically yeah i'm a bit hurt/comfort and grief girlie. i love to write about finding love and the desire to live in unexpected places. major character undeath and reunions are favs. found family, best friends, the works. basically i feel like you can look at any of the themes i consistently write about and realize i was someone who was fundamentally changed at ten years old when i went to see the muppets (2011).

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

yes but also no. usually i listen to instrumental music but lately it's become like, too much? bad stim. so either i'm listening to "good luck, babe!" by chappell roan or "don't come around here no more" by tom petty & the heartbreakers or "santa monica dream" by angus & julia stone on loop, because those are songs i can apparently write to without losing it, or i have nothing on. the only exception is my brain has been letting me play the stranger things ost sometimes, depending on what i'm working on, but i'm using my vinyl to do that because i love the sound quality, but that means i then have to get up and flip the record every 20 min so. that's a bit disruptive.

separate from whilst writing, i am of course always looping glb + the cxloe cover of it. i'm also on an "i love you, i'm sorry" by gracie abrams kick and "waiting room" by phoebe bridgers, as well as "brother" by the aubreys, "cleopatra" by the lumineers, the acoustic vers of "pink pony club", "every breath you take" by the police and i'm back on my john denver's greatest hits bullshit. begging someone to take these songs away from me (but also don't i NEED them).

fanfic writer emoji asks!

[heavencasteel420]

For the director's commentary thing: the section of Tonight, Tonight ch. 1 that starts with "It took Nancy a moment to realize what they were talking about." and ends with "Something broke through the fog of bourbon."

(I'm just so intrigued by Tommy's whole deal in this story.)

Thank you for your ask! I have a lot of Tommy thoughts, so this is going to be split into (a) what's going on in the passage, (b) my headcanons for the Hagan family dynamics, and (c) additional history involving Tommy's older brother Robbie and other characters. I'm not sure how much of this is actually going to get into the story proper, since some of this is stuff I originally thought of for other stories and general headcanons, plus Nancy's view of all of this is pretty limited.

Discussion of Tommy's canon fucked-up behavior, a suicide attempt (the one already referenced in Tonight, Tonight), physical and emotional sibling abuse, bullying, homophobia, and attempted sexual assault.

The Passage

It took Nancy a moment to realize what they were talking about. (The bourbon didn’t help.) Then she remembered the horrible thing Tommy had said back when Will had disappeared, and even a couple of times after he’d died. The last time, he’d made the mistake of saying it within earshot of a teacher, who had berated him within an inch of his life for making up such a cruel rumor.

This is a reference to Tommy's sick joke about Jonathan killing Will. I don't think Tommy particularly has it in for Jonathan as a person. First of all, he wasn't thinking of Jonathan as a real person. Second, Tommy strikes me as someone who says dark or shocking shit because that's his contribution to the group. He's not as good-looking or as much of a star athlete as Steve, but he's tougher, smarter, meaner. He doesn't ever try to beat Steve at his own game--the most he'll do is gravitate to Billy--but he'll do and say sneaky things to undermine him or get him in trouble.

(Tommy's still loyal to Steve in this universe, or at least loyal to him over Billy, who's more subtle in his bullying of Steve because his reputation is more solid. Tommy also has some other stuff going on that’s causing him to reconsider his worldview, as discussed below.)

“If Jonathan Byers heard you and decked you right now,” the teacher had hissed at Tommy, “I would swear in a court of law that he hadn’t. You vile little shit.”

Hawkins is shitty enough that Tommy feels emboldened to make his horrible joke where a teacher can hear, but at least one adult is shocked. Her approach is still essentially to let the kids sort it out themselves, of course. Jonathan's pretty much on his own.

Which, of course, wasn’t how teachers were supposed to speak to students, but Tommy, for all his faults, had his own sense of fair play. He’d only whined about it to Steve and Carol, whose reactions had been, respectively, “man, I told you not to say that shit, that’s messed up” and “yeah, we know it’s a joke, but obviously some ex-hippie teacher who still listens to John Denver is gonna hate that shit, what did you expect.” (Nancy had been present for these conversations, but too busy going over all the terrible things that could have happened to Barb to offer a response.) Then Tommy had dropped the subject.

Tommy's also going to handle things himself, like the under-supervised Gen X kid he is. Steve remains squeamish about the child murder joke and, while it doesn't shock Carol, she doesn't have Tommy's attention-seeking tendencies.

(Jonathan actually did hear the "joke," but he had so much bad shit going on that he was kind of like "yeah, seems like the kind of blood-curdlingly cruel thing Tommy Hagan would say." Ironically, Steve's dismissive "that's depressing" bothered him more, because Steve wasn't trying to be shocking; that was a thoughtless expression of the town's opinion on his family.)

But, it turned out, he hadn’t forgotten it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, staring at the carpet. “I know. Obviously Byers had a lot of reasons to check out early. I don’t know if he even heard that shit I said. Just…I don’t know, it’s too weird. One second, you’re going to school with a guy. Then he ends up in Pennhurst and you’re looking at his blood at the floor.”

It got a little too real for Tommy! Not so much because he thinks he's a major cause of Jonathan's suicide attempt (in reality the culmination of months of unresolved guilt and grief, plus despair at having to live with Lonnie, plus just not thinking clearly due to exhaustion and malnutrition), but because he thought for the first time what it'd be like to be Jonathan—a human being, not an unfeeling repository for rumors—and hear that comment.

2. The Hagan Family

Tommy is also experiencing some changes in his family life that are causing him to question certain things. His siblings, twins Robbie and Marianne, are two years his senior. His mother vastly, overtly prefers Robbie to her other children. In Mrs. Hagan's eyes, Marianne is an annoying, negative whiner who's jealous of Robbie and Tommy is just Robbie's younger brother who looks up to him So Much. (Mr. Hagan is kind of checked out, thanks to serious chronic pain issues that nobody really understands.) Robbie was universally hailed as an Ideal Boy during his time at Hawkins High, too. He looks like Rob Lowe, he was a star athlete who's still playing basketball for IU, and every subsequent popular boy is kind of compared unfavorably to him. Steve absolutely adores Robbie, who used to pontificate about girls and sports and life to him and Tommy, and he has a whole thing about how he'll never be as smart or as great at basketball as him. Jason has prayed a great deal on his unChristian envy of Robbie. And Billy has too much persona to admit it, but one time he overheard someone call him a "white-trash Robbie Hagan" and it really hurt his feelings.

At home, though, Robbie frequently bullied both Marianne and Tommy. With Marianne, it was obvious and ugly: constantly tearing her down verbally, ruining her things, sabotaging her schoolwork, even cutting off her ponytail after she yelled at him for leaving her to do all the chores. With Tommy, it was more plausibly deniable: playing very rough with him when they were younger, putting him in dangerous and even potentially fatal situations as a joke, cruelly mocking his masculinity to control his behavior or just to knock him down a peg. Marianne complained and was demonized by their mother, while Tommy sort of accepted this treatment as his due and viewed his relationship with Robbie as normal and positive.

Then Robbie left home to attend IU on a basketball scholarship. Marianne, the un-favorite and a girl to boot, got into college and received a pretty decent scholarship, but her parents refused to pay the rest so she's stuck living at home and attending community college for a couple years. Mrs. Hagan has been pretty down in the dumps since Robbie left for school, bemoaning that it's just not the same with only Marianne and Tommy around. Tommy finds these remarks increasingly dispiriting. Like, yeah, he misses Robbie, too, but he's not nothing, right? He's also come to realize that he has more room to breathe without Robbie constantly picking at him and sucking up all the air in the room. He's even started to see Marianne in a new light. Previously annoyed with her hostility towards Robbie and willing to join in on Robbie's bullying of her, he's coming to appreciate how difficult her life has been in their house and how little she's really held his allegiance with Robbie against him. She's still somewhat wary of him, but she gets why he did what he did and they've started to bond a little bit. He knows she's going to be leaving home in about a year, too, and finds himself feeling bummed out about it.

Finally, there was an incident at the Hagan family's 1984 Fourth of July barbeque that cemented his changing feelings towards his family. Which brings us to...

3. Robbie, Carol, and Jonathan

This is where the homophobia and attempted sexual assault come in. I'm going to put a caveat that I thought of this part before changing Jonathan's situation to be one of sexual exploitation, and now I feel like there might be a lot of sexual assault for a story that's not centrally about that. However: this was always a story about people, especially young people, being isolated and falling through the cracks in society, and rape culture very much ties into that. Also, I tried not to make it sensationalistic at any point.

So, Robbie has a certain kind of nebulous reputation among the girls (popular, pretty, around his age) that people expect him to sleep with. He's not violent or threatening, but he's a player and he always gives the impression that the girl has lost some contest with him by "giving in." It's subtle--he's not going "I don't respect you anymore because you had sex with me"--but even girls who went in with the attitude of "I want to have sex with Robbie Hagan because he's hot and have no expectation of a relationship" end up feeling kind of slimed on. He also has sexual relationships with girls whom he refuses to acknowledge in public--less popular, more insecure, slightly younger girls, mostly--and he's more devious and pushy with them. And he has ventured into even more sinister territory on a couple of occasions, once with Jonathan and once with Carol.

The incident with Jonathan happens in the summer of 1982, when Jonathan is a rising freshman working under the table at the Hawk and Robbie is a rising senior. Robbie finds him alone cleaning up the cinema and repeatedly asks him for a handjob. Another employee walks into the cinema before things can escalate, but, due to Robbie's superior age/strength and the isolated location, the situation is pretty volatile and frightening. Jonathan is basically like "well, nothing happened, ultimately, so I'm just never going to deal with that." But after Will's "death"--which appears to have been brought about partially by someone trying to run him off the road--Jonathan, especially in dreams, starts to mull over a bunch of rough shit that he went through, because he wanted to protect Will from going through that stuff (whether that meant Lonnie's bullshit or scarier bullying from older kids or the effects of poverty) and feels that he failed.

Tommy doesn't know about this incident, but Robbie--pretty confident that poor, crazy Joyce Byers's weird, possibly queer kid isn't going to tell anyone and that it would backfire on him if he tried--nevertheless makes a preemptive strike and makes sure to tell Tommy to watch out for that Byers kid, because he's a queer and you never know what they'll do. This isn't the first or last rumor of this kind about Jonathan, but it doesn't exactly make his life easier, either.

With Carol, Robbie came home from college in the summer of 1984 and attended his family's Fourth of July barbecue. Carol, Tommy's girlfriend since middle school, is invited. Robbie thinks she looks good, he feels entitled to her attention, and he's already in a resentful mood due to some family stuff (Tommy is glad to see him but not exactly worshipful, Marianne has come out of her shell which he interprets as being "full of herself," and Mrs. Hagan is falling all over him). So he tries to get his hand up Carol's shirt while her hands are full with some casserole dish. Unfortunately for him, Carol is not as scared or awed as most of the younger people he approaches, so she screams at him and dumps a terrifyingly Midwestern salad all over his ass. The rest of the Hagans come running, and the fallout is tremendous. Tommy isn't in a place where he can confront Robbie too directly, but he sides with Carol and takes her back to her house, where she tells her mom about it and they all end up having Fourth of July lunch together. Marianne knows Robbie's bad news and sides with Carol, too. Mrs. Hagan is livid, calling Carol a liar and a slut and her two other children ungrateful traitors. Mrs. Perkins (Carol's mom) calls to give Mrs. Hagan a piece of her mind.

In the end, it doesn't go beyond the two families. (Even Steve doesn't know.) Carol is assertive but even she can't deal with being the girl who tried to stir up shit between golden boy Robbie and his own brother. Her folks are furious on her behalf but are realistic and agree that it would play out that way. Mrs. Hagan gives Carol the cold shoulder but doesn't want to push things with her folks, or even acknowledge that Tommy has real reason to resent his brother. Marianne ends up absorbing most of her frustration, and she's just like, "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd do, you horrible fucking woman." Meanwhile Robbie's sulking because he's tired of all the drama that he caused.

This is obviously pretty elaborate for a couple of minor characters in this fanfic and I don't know how much this is going to show up in the story, but it kind of percolated in the back of my mind of its own accord.

[invisibleraven]

Phantom Carols

For the @jatp-adventevent prompt: What's their favourite Christmas song?

Day Twelve: Turn The Christmas Music On <-AO3!

The band was driving to get a tree for the studio when Alex groaned, reaching forward between the seats to twist the radio dial to another station.

“Hey, shotgun controls the radio, we all agreed!” Luke protests from his spot in said seat.

“Dude, that’s all well and good, but not when we have to listen to fucking Christmas Shoes,” Alex said.

“I normally am all for the sanctity of the shotgun rule,” Julie said. “But I’m with Alex here. Fuck that song.”

“What is it?” Reggie asked. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“How?” Alex asked.

“Usually I have my phone plugged into the speaker,” Reggie replied with a shrug. “Plus you guys know that I don’t listen to Christmas music unless it’s Kenny & Dolly. Or the occasional John Denver.”

“But they play it literally everywhere!” Julie stated.

“Which is why I wear headphones. I don’t celebrate the holiday, so I don’t have to put up with the terrible music.”

“Not all of it is terrible,” Luke comments. “You liked TSO.”

“Most of that is just rock guitars with a holiday twist,” Reggie argued. “But yes, I will admit to enjoying that, even if the concert you made me watch gave me a headache from the light show.”

“Anyways,” Julie interjected, “Christmas Shoes is an awful Christian song based on a book… and I think there’s a made for TV movie too? It’s about this boy who loses his mom on Christmas Eve and asks Santa for a pair of shoes so she can look nice for when she meets Jesus.”

Reggie gaped at that, and turned around to look at Julie, as if to ascertain she was serious. They were at a stoplight, thankfully, so she nodded gravely. “That’s fucking sick!” Reggie exclaimed.

“It’s grief porn,” Alex said. “And disgusting. My church loved it, tried to make it some uplifting thing, but it makes my skin crawl.”

“And I think you can all tell why I would hate it,” Julie piped up.

“Yeah, sorry Luke, you’re outvoted here. Shotgun rule of the radio is overturned if that awful drek comes on my radio,” Reggie said decisively.

“I don’t like it either,” Luke grumbled. “I was gonna turn it off myself before Alex got to it. But I suppose that’s fair. But I am so changing the channel because we’ve been listening to NPR for five minutes now.”

“Just plug my phone in and we can listen to some good old Kenny & Dolly,” Reggie said.

“No. No way. I am still in control, and I get to choose the music,” Luke stated firmly. “And there is no way we are listening to country while I’m in control.” He turned the dial until it settled back to the original station, the last strains of Nat King Cole fading out.

But then the next song started and everyone had to laugh when it was “With Bells On”, and Reggie started singing along, loud and obnoxiously, Alex and Julie grinning as they joined in. Luke scowled but made no move to change the station. He may not like country, but he would admit, deep deep down, that his friends did sound good while singing it.

[nolanhollogay]

"Behave." "Make me." + your obx ocs!

party pogues!!! they're pogues and they're at a party!! nova is having an emotional crisis but it's fine!!

(takes place between s1 and s2)

+

Nova loved alcohol. It made everything so much better. Like, yeah, maybe Kie was ignoring her for reasons she couldn't even begin to understand, and she didn't like Denver, her new Touron friend, as much as she initially thought, and John B and Sarah were probably dead and Mikey was blowing them off to hang out with Rafe fucking Cameron, and her stupid mom kept calling her but it was fine. Because she was drunk as fuck and not thinking about any of that.

JJ, Edgar and Pope were sitting beside her on the couch that someone had brought into the woods years upon years ago. Well, JJ and Pope were sitting next to her, Edgar was in JJ's lap, pretending to be annoyed as JJ tried to get him to make out. Kie was nowhere to be found, locked away in her house by her parents, like fucking Rapunzel.

Kie hated Rapunzel. She thought it was stupid that she was saved by a prince when she could've just used her long ass hair to get down on her own. Nova was indifferent because her favorite princess was the princess from The Princess and The Pea. She wondered what Denver's favorite princess was. Or Pope's.

"Pope, who's your favorite princess?" She turned to him, watching him sip slowly from his red solo cup. Whatever was in it made his face scrunch up in disgust.

"Like Disney princess, or real life princess, or–"

She cut him off. "Fictional princesses."p

He took another drink, hating it as much as the first sip. "Uh, probably Ariel from The Little Mermaid."

"Solid," she said. He smiled into his cup. "What about you, JJ?"

He pulled away from where he was not so subtly kissing Edgar's neck. "Brave, from Brave. Her bow n arrow was sick."

Pope scoffed. "Her name is not Brave."

JJ rolled his eyes. "Why else would they call the movie that?"

"Do you think Rapunzel's name is Tangled?"

Nova wasn't in the mood for their banter. "How bout you, Eddie?"

Edgar hummed in thought. "Dulcinea del Toboso from Don Qui—" He cut himself off with a yelp as JJ sunk his teeth into his neck. He elbowed him in the shoulder. "Ow! I was speaking."

JJ nodded. "Yeah, and you sounded so hot, I had to do something about it."

Nova couldn't see it because of the lack of light around them but she knew Edgar was blushing.

"Behave," he said, unable to keep the affection from his voice.

Leaning in for a kiss, JJ practically purred, "Make me."

Nova gagged. "Can you go be gross somewhere else? I just want to talk about princesses!"

Edgar pulled away. "Sorry, Nov." JJ, obviously very unapologetic, just glared at her.

"Isn't Dulcinea made up?" Pope asked.

Edgar gasped. "You've never read Don Quixote?"

They launched into a discussion about whatever the hell Don Quixote was, talking about knights and horses, and stopped paying Nova any attention.

She sighed, alone with her thoughts again.

Maybe she should call Kie, just to see how she was doing? They were more on the friend side of their frenemy situation now, it wouldn't be that weird.

But it would still be kind of weird.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and her heart rose like it was in an elevator.

Except when she checked her phone it was just JJ texting her and not Kie having somehow read her mind.

From: Double J

u good? y r u being like that?

To: Double J

being like what?

From: Double J

a huge bitch

She knew it was just the alcohol in her system, but red hot rage flooded her veins. She got to her feet, turning to face him. "Fuck you."

As she walked away, she heard Pope ask, "What'd you do?"

+

Somehow she ended up at The Chateau, because she always ended up at The Chateau. She climbed into John B's bed, inhaling the scent of his stupid cologne. She used to hate it, but now she missed it more than anything.

"You should be here," she said into the darkness. "You should be here with me, telling me and JJ to stop fighting and dunking on Edgar and Pope for nerding out in the middle of a party and making fun of Tourons together. A Kook chick tried to buy weed off me and I didn't even get to make fun of her with you!"

She hugged his pillow to her chest. "Fuck you, John B. And fuck Sarah for her beautiful, giant heart. And Kiara for being the worst person in the world and refusing to leave my brain. And JJ for being a dick. And Edgar for being in love with him. And fuck Big John most of all for disappearing and getting us in this mess in the first place."

Her rage had melted into sadness and that melted into exhaustion, and before she knew it she was asleep, drooling on John B's sheets.

It didn't matter, they were probably dirty anyway.

[ascendandt]

really long explanation of my song choices under the cut

1. WHITE WINTER HYMNAL (FLEET FOXES)

- its the cycles. the tragedy that is and was and will be happening. the removal from the scene and simultaneous desperation

- lyrical repitition yeah. timeloop

- "and michael you would fall" you WOULD. implied repition and inevitability. ya its like gan 👍👍

2. YOU & ME (TALLY HALL)

- "off again we go, another seed to sow, another part to keep in proper order, what have i begun, a getaway undone, i have seen the signs and i ignored them"

- ⬆️ HELLO? TIMELOOP. meticulous tweaking of circumstances to get gan not evil. i have seen the signs (of the impossibility of changing fate. and also of him in the first before having moral complexity) and i ignored them!!!!!

- YOU AND ME DIVINE. A CIRCULAR DESIGN! RETURN TO BE IN ORBIT ALL THE TIME

- "you turn away and around, ive been coming down" its a bit. its a bit that you might see your shadow... iykyk

3. EVERYWHERE (BRAN VAN 3000)

- youre everywhere to me... its gan. hes hes everywhere

- everywhere you came an left you came in the name of love! and left a wake of happiness and tenderness and SWEET CONFLICT.... it is always tortured :( link is so good natured but um well. its not going right. he still holds reductive morality that wont actually save anyone

- "you come on down but you dont come down" - its the way link keeps coming back to this guy this GUY HE LOVES to save him but he never gets at the root of it he never. comes down to why gan does what he does ever.

- also works as a sorrows (part 5 of b+f) gan perspective 👍 unrequited love baby

4. TEXAS REZNIKOFF (MITSKI)

- ok i actually have very little justification for this. but its verry sorrows esque to me. sorry

- oh except "but ive been anywhere an its not what i want... i wanna be still with you". its them to me.

5. FRANCIS FOREVER (MITSKI)

- what more can i say... the isolation. the seperation

- in sorrows ganondorf if left literally all alone on a shipwreck for days to months Several times, and is also hopelessly in love with link. for context.

- "i dont need the world to see that ive been the best i can be... but i dont think i can stand to be where you dont see me" - its literally him. he really only has link in his life, and he is doing all his evil-magic suppression in isolation FOR HIM.

- ⬆️ oh also somewhat a post-fear no more link. haha. he greives rajo his son and rajo his brother a lot. all this timeloop bullshit is for him after all... in defiance of fate and the gods snd everything. he MISSES HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING one might say.

6. ANNIE'S SONG (JOHN DENVER)

- hes everything to link👍 gives him purpose

- LET ME GIVE MY LIFE TO YOU. LET ME DIE IN YOUR ARMS.... the devotion and it all. yeah

7. I'M STILL HERE (GOO GOO DOLLS)

- this is particularly a song for fear no more rajo. the weird father son dynamic they got here is so fucked

- rajo feels inadequate he feels evil and ALSO smothered by link his dad. because link is trying to save him from being evil right. so hes both expecting him to act badly and need saving and ALSO be good. its fucked

- oh and also deeply estranged by society due to being raised in hyrule abd very much Not being hylian.

- like the lyrics refer to feeling inadequate and lost alone. people (in this case link and (joker voice) SOCIETY) expecting bad things from him... he wants support from his dad but its still very complicated WHATEVER...

- its um. hes just like jim treasureplanet.ok whatever

8. HYMN FOR A SCARECROW (TALLY HALL)

- by contrast. a link song.... nobody knows you and neither do i...

- the farmer jim in the lyrics is corfo cepolla to me (he is a farmer who link comes back to several times across timelines for advice and help raising ganondorf as a baby. hes cool guy).

- "he may imagine you heard and he knew... you wouldnt hear what he might have known" <- despite it all link really fails to take to heart what needs to be learned from the cepollas. HES A VERY ONE TRACK MIND GUY... like a scarecrow!

- song is about an enigma of a guy right. why does he do what he does. is he even aware. only the wind knows... its very him.

- also the birds the crows. they are fate somewhat. he drives them away by nature of what he does but the line "igniting a spark in [the crows'] minds so they circle and fly" feels like they are driven to return anyway. very much a theme in the story, like evil still arises whether in ganondorf or not. you cant save everyone always

9. BIXBY CANYON BRIDGE (DEATH CAB)

- link greiving his lost brother/son/friend ...

- in the silence it became so very clear that you had long since disappeared...i cursed myself at bring suprised that it didnt play like it did in my mind

- ⬆️ he keeps fucking dying. despite all the time nonsense rajo cant come back and you cant erase the losses of former timelines

10. SAMSON (REGINA SPEKTOR)

- the "history books forgot about us" and the "we coukdnt bring the cloumns down" is very sorrows to me. they loved each other and it still wasnt enough to CHANGE anything because he still died by links hand and the timeline was still reset.

- the uh. hair length thing is actually pretty important because 1. its a cultural thing to have gans hair long. 2. rajo cut off all his hair before he killed himself in fear no more (momentous Fucking occasion). and link feels ratherrr responsible for that. the hair cutting is a betrayal. and in the times where link raises him in the hylian fashion and cuts his hair its like. uprooting his whole life and for what? NOTHING to change. wawawawa

[killerchickadee]

You know what makes me really mad about the whole "Mom bought us Bruce Springsteen tickets so now I have to go to Colorado so I don't hurt her feelings" thing is... a year ago Elton John was doing his last tour ever. Now, I've never seen him in concert, so I really wanted to go while I could. Didn't happen cause I'm poor.

He's also probably my mom's favorite musician, so I'm like... WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU DO THIS WITH ELTON JOHN INSTEAD? Like if she said, "Hey I got Elton John tickets, be in Denver in a month," I'd be like absolutely, fuck yeah. Springsteen? I literally don't care. So now I gotta go all the fucking way out there and pretend I'm not mad about it. And now I can't pay my bills OR do any of the fun shit I wanted to do. I'm trying so hard to make the best of this trip but tbh I'd rather just stay home.

[saucerfulofsins]

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

Just 5??? My god. Okay, here goes, a handful of songs from the many more I've listened to last week:

Willy Mason - Oxygen (which is currently stuck in my head) Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bad Moon Rising (I have always loved this song idfk man the rhythm is so fun and "there's a bad moon on the rise" made my little werewolf obsessed 10yo brain very happy) Thick As A Brick - Jethro Tull (this is pt 1 but I listen to pt2 immediately following) The Eagle and the Hawk - John Denver (which yes I named my most recent 1988 fic after because why the fuck not anyway yeah this is a 1988 song from now on) Eli, The Barrow Boy - The Decemberists (I hadn't listened to the band in ages and last week I suddenly got the Urge and I do love Picaresque and The Crane Wife and Castaways and Cutouts) BONUS because I can't really do a list without the National, it wouldn't be right: Pink Rabbits. But really the entire Trouble Will Find Me album.