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neonovember · 1 year ago

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Oh. My. God. Oh my god but imagine though, waking up around 8 or 9 or so on a day off where both you and Carmy have the day free. It’s a big deal maybe because oh my god Carmen’s in bed at 9 in the morning *affectionate sarcasm* holy moly Carmen settle down!

But just waking up with him, the sun coming through the window through the thin curtains with a little breeze, looking over and watching Carmy’s face form into the softest, most precious smile, his eyelashes fanning his cheeks as he slowly comes to and lets out a little sigh “Morning” his voice is all husky from sleep and lack of use. You smile back with that sweet giddiness and relaxation in filling your body as you softly whisper good morning back to him. Watching him shift as he sits up to lean over and place a long, soft and slow and tender kiss over your lips, still with that little smile on his lips (I am about to exPLODE-)*CRYING!!!!!!*

okay okay, i know i wrote a drabble similar to this idea here, and for some reason my mind fell back to the night before..y'all, imagine the night that resulted in a soft, needy carmen spending the day in bed with you, all sore and a mess of slick and cum-

Midnight Cars

summary: You’re not about to fuck in the car park. So you end up fucking in the car park. Your apartment’s one at least.

a/n: read @nolita-fairytale fic's about fiance!carmen, and god did that get my gears going. Her series is a mf masterpiece! Fiance Carmen is dirtyyy, even for Berzatto himself. There's public sex, I'm talking Carmen is knuckles deep in you swallowing you with praises whilst a few feet away from Auntie Susie, public.

warnings; filth, utter FILTH, this is kind of insane even for me, car sex, public sex, fingering, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehuh!) but carmen's doing all the work, fiance!carmen, wrap it before you tap it lmao, 18+ explicit, feral and a little deranged carmen, possesive! carmen

The tangy burst of vermilion and cherry grasps your tongue as you tilt the rounded bowl of your drinking glass towards your lips, gliding your tongue to catch any wayward drops of the wine being poured by waiters dressed down in black and white.

Your eyes don’t leave the dirty blond tresses that had long broken from their gelled back form through the night's progression sitting atop Carmen’s head. You can’t help the giggle you let out from your position against the bar, watching him join in a very drunk, but surprisingly harmonised rendition of “Ain't No Mountain High Enough" By Marvin Gates.

His tie sits undone around his neck, and his face is sort of flushed from the extended night, his cheeks a tinty rose and his lips turned red from his repetitive swipes of his tongue across them nervously.

All inhibitions are gone now, and you're able to indulge in the site of a carefree Carmen, left unaware of the never ending responsibilities he carried by the honey haze of a night just for him and his award winning restaurant.

The low lights of the speakeasy room sets the air into a mellow haze, hints of cocoa and aged bourbon waft through the corners of the room, across half finished plates of food on tailored tables, and the stage where your Carmen had won the very award that now sits dangerously close to the edge of your table.

You knew the James Beard Association was prestigious, but god had they truly left you dumbfounded when you stepped into the low lights of the speakeasy.

You didn't even know places like this still existed.

The speakeasy was tucked in a bricked alley, unassumingly between an Italian and a car park. You wouldn’t have ever guessed it to boast this attraction, with aged vintage black and white photos of late singers who’d sung on that very stage years ago hanging across the walls, polished dark exposed wood and velvet booth seats in corners surrounding round tables, even the parlour looked like it was out of an 80’s bar house. You think if you shut your eyes and reached out you would have touched the sequence dress of Etta Jones.

Carmen didn't get drunk, not often anyways, and even now, after winning the prestige of “Chicago's Up and Coming Restaurant of the Decade”, he waved off every raise of a glass towards him.

Carmen felt a level of unease at even touching a drop of liquor whilst driving you both home, no, every fiber of his being screamed at him to keep you safe at all times, and the taste of bourbon held nothing against the taste of you.

That didn’t stop him from enjoying himself, in fact he felt an unnatural sense of bubbly relaxation fall over him as his gaze fell towards you, sipping on a glass, looking the very bit the picture of gorgeous he’d ever seen.

Carmen had always been horrible at these sorts of things, getting doted on, sucked up to, boasted to. He hated every second of it, but even he can attest to the absolute wonder of a night this has been. He glided you against the dance floor, under the iridescent glass panes of the skylight window, the soft crescent moonlight shining through in a way that bounced against the glitters of low hanging ambient lighting and shimmers of dresses and disco balls.

The dance floor had been packed with family and friends but then? Then, it had felt like the entire world had stood still, it had felt like it was the both of you, infinitely, you in his arms like it was meant to be, forever.

And now you looked across to him, with those eyes, those fucking eyes of yours, comfortable in the vision of your gorgeous man looking at you under hooded lids, his bottom lip sunken into his mouth. The hint of a smirk tucks at the corner, and it takes everything in you not to jump at him then.

You motion with a manicured finger, and his eyes catch yours in a second, despite being in a group of people currently huddled around him, eager faces hanging onto his every word. He leaves them, in the middle of a mountain of questions they prodded at him, towards you, following your every desire, always, until the very end.

“I see congratulations are in order, Chef” You softly reply, when he makes it close enough that you take in the veins trailing up his forearm, left bare from his rolled up sleeves. The vision shoots straight to the heat building in your belly, and you have to press your drink to your lips to stop the bubbly moan from escaping.

Carmen looks down at you from his height, eyes trailing down the cut of your body hugging dress, lingering on your snug hips catching against the silky black fabric.

He wanted to feel them beneath his hands as he took you.

“Oh yeah?” Carmen replies, his voice like silk fluttering across your body. Heady in that way it always is.

“Mhm, but I didn’t get to really say anything since you were busy with the rest of them” You don’t have to gesture for Carmen to know about the huddles of people crowding his every move. Another thing he disliked about these sorts of things, they took him away from you.

“Does my girl feel neglected?”

“No” You draw out. “ I just want to show you how proud I am” You whisper through dark lashes. Carmen trails a tattooed fingers across your jaw, letting glide against the smooth skin until it bumps against your lips. Trailing your bottom lip fervently, his own pulled into his mouth.

“And how are you going to congratulate me hm?”

“That will just ruin the surprise, won’t it?”

Carmen let’s put a chuckle, before leaning into the crook of your neck

“Careful..you know I don’t like it when you keep things from me”

You can’t help the shudder that crawls up your spine at his words, flashes of being bent over his desk, of being pushed onto your knees corrode your mind and you feel the burning ache travel to your core.

Carmen tilts his head, a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you, eyes glinting in want.

“No? You’re not gonna tell me?” Carmen replies in a low voice, and as he trails his thick digits across the sides of your dress, bunching up the silk material.

He trails his thick digits across the bodice of your dress, his hands dipping into the spill of cleavage before trailing it to the sides of your dress, bunching up the silk material. Surely he’s not?

“Mhm” Carmen nods, eyes flickering to you, reading your mind as he takes you in appreciably. His pupils are blown out in lust, the familiar ceruleans dipping into a depth only reserved for you.

You let out a squeal when you feel Carmen’s fingers trail up the slit on your thigh, squeezing the naked flesh before tracing his fingers along the lace trim of your panties. You’re up against the bar, shielded by the low ambient lighting and Carmen’s huge back obscuring every manoeuvre of your body to his every desire.

“Carmen-“ You admonish, eyes darting across the room now filled with happily drunk family and friends dancing or laughing amongst each other.

However your admonishment is light hearted, it trails off into the air when you feel Carmen press against you, then, you don’t really care, you miss him too goddamn much to.

“Been watching you the entire night you know? When you were dancing with your friends, god I wanted to drag you from the floor and just take you in the fucking coat closet” Carmen muses, his lips brushing against the pulse point behind your ear. Your drink long forgotten on the bar counter, your hands now gripping his shoulders as you bite back a moan.

“Yeah, just thinking about wrapping these thighs around me and letting that pussy grip me for hours”

“You’d take it all, right honey? You’ll be my good girl?” Carmen grunts out softly

All you can let out is a half hearted nod, your eyes falling dangerously closed as Carmen prods and sucks against every sliver of skin he can get ahold of.

His deft thumb drags along the fabric of your undergarments, cupping your mound as you let out a sharp exhale, making approving noises as the slick that has begun to already begun to drench your panties.

“Already wet for me Darling?” Carm replies, the hint of mirth surrounding his voice doesn’t allude you, and if you didn’t want to keep chasing that sweet friction of Carmens thumb against your heat you would have shoved him.

“Please Carm” You exhale with a sharp breath, trying to grind your hips onto the palm of his hand. He strokes you softly, featherlight touches that barely feel like anything.

And this man, this goddamn man, laughs. A roll of a chuckle rolls through his body and you want to scream at the denial of the pleasures he's keeping from you, before his deep baritone voice replies.

“All you had to say was please”

His rough fingers sink into your heat, it’s silky, and rough and hits you like liquor, straight to the building pressure. He drags your slick through your folds, arching his fingers ever so slightly when he bumps up against your clit. Never fully putting any pressure on that precipice of pleasure you want to dive head first into.

Dipping a thick tattooed digit into your tight hole, Carmen lets out a groan at the way you grip him so tightly, masking your pitched moan at the feeling of him circling his thumb against your bundle of nerves and stretching you out with his thick digits.

Carmen is practically holding you up, his large bicep wrapped tightly around your waist as you sink your teeth into his shoulder, letting the skin absorb the litter of stuttered mewls you let out at the swipes of his thumb against your clit.

The coil begins to tighten, and you can faintly hear Carmen softly whisper sweet nothings, proclamations, declarations, praises. They fall from his mouth like honey and push you further up the cliff.

“I know sweet girl, taking it so well, just keep taking it, let me make you feel good, yeah?”

A second finger joins the first, dragging your sopping slick up your folds, before dipping into your tight hole. Rough fingers massage up against your walls that grip him so tightly, Carmen knows your body inside and out, and it doesn't take long for him to find the soft spongy patch of skin deep within you, curling a third finger up into that spot, roughly thrusting into relentlessly.

Carmen watches the way your pussy swallows his thick tattooed fingers, thrusting them out slicker and wetter each time, the image has his jaw and slacks tightening and it takes everything in him not to sink his entire length into against the bar counter, fuck whoever else.

Your hips buckle beneath him, and he grips you harder into his chest, his mouth presses bruising kisses along your neck, jaw, clavicle. Your heated moans fail to reside in you as you begin to cant your hips into his hands, rubbing your clit rapidly on the flat side of his palm. The coil tightens within you, and you roll your eyes back, letting out a bubbling of half syllabus, your brain a mush from the saccharine pleasure curling your toes.

“M’ fucking you dumb baby? You getting off so good on my fingers you can’t speak?” Carmen groans out, he can’t stop himself from canting his hips forward, his erection bumping into your stomach.

The feeling of him pressed and thrusting against you, outlined by his suit pants is a vision that breaks you entirely, and you can’t even blink before you feel the band snap, the delicious white hot burn spreading through you like a wildfire.

“Carmen..s-..gonna” You manage to let out with a breath, and Carmen knows already, of course he does. He’s knuckles deep in you now, and his relentless rutting is inescapable, you can fucking feel him in your bones, down to your goddamn marrow. He continues his rapid thrusts into you, refusing to relent, pushing you further, and further through the waves of your unending.

Your head lulls back, but Carmen catches it with his arm, his mouth slatted over yours as you fail to keep in the loud yell of his name from your lips.

Carmen swallows your stuttered mewls, your swears, your please, he swallows it all and keeps it for himself. His tongue darting across the inside of your mouth, swiping along the roof of your mouth, across your front teeth.

His fingers continue to thrust into you, helping you ride through the burst of colours and stars that light your vision beneath your lids. You're pushed up against his hard chest, and it takes some time for your limp body to come back to life, your head a daze of pleasure.

“S’fucken good girl”

Carmen mutters so softly, almost to himself, his fingers are still cupping your heart, whisper grazes of his thumb against your drenched folds.

as he fixes your dress, smoothing the wrinkles formed, flickering his eyes to yours in a sweet smile.

Through hooded lids, you see a man approach you both, interrupting the heated gaze Carmen imprints down to your very bones. Carmen slinks his hand back, discreetly popping those deft digits into his mouth with a low groan, before wiping them on his suit pants. He carefully fixes your dress, smoothing the wrinkles formed, flickering his eyes to yours in a sweet smile as if he hadn’t just fucked you up into his knuckles, and goddamn tasted you.

The scene causes a shudder to roll down your back, reigniting the heat deep inside you once again, you never thought you could be this depraved, this-, but the way he sinks into you so perfectly has you nodding to every desire he has. He was a goddamn drug.

Your body is still recovering from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you feel Carmen's heated gaze on you as you try and coherently respond to the stubby man who’d interrupted you both. The man rambles on, clearly oblivious to your state, too focused on the sound of his own voice. You nod along to his words, something about a farmers market or an Indian restaurant that had opened, but you're jittering in your heels and you can barely stand, opting to lean against the bar counter.

You look towards Carmen, to find him staring at you, amusement lighting his cerulean blues as he takes in your insatiability. Hell, it took him god near everything to not fling the man to the other side of the room so that he could probably taste you.

Remind him again why he agreed to this?

It gets to maybe the second inception of an animated story before Carmen is bidding the man goodbye with a shake of a hand, and all you can do is swallow the desire that no doubt has you salivating by the second. God if Carmen had made you wait even one more minute you would have tugged on his shirt like some petulant child.

“Took you long enough” You murmur, when Carmen eases out into the speakeasy car park with a hand against the small of your back.

A soft laugh escapes Carmen, scratching at his jaw as he shakes his head.

“If I didn’t already know, I would think you're the one that hates these things” Carmen murmurs with a teasing smile, as you make your way to the sleek black car that camouflages against the midnight.

You make a sound that sounds close to a snort, “Not when it keeps me from jumping my fiances bones” Your engagement ring seems to glisten at those words, and you don't miss the way Carmen’s eyes flash with a look of hunger, adoration, glee, even possession all mixed in one.

You’d been his since the moment he laid eyes on you, that was a given. Putting a ring on your finger just gave him something to latch onto, a mark that told the world you were finally his.

It anchored him, it made him feel good. It eased the anxieties that would flood his mind, washing them away like a current every time he kissed that damn princess cut.

Carmen wasn’t exactly all that sentimental, but with you? God did he mutter till death do us part like it was tattooed onto his tongue. And even then, when he’s a zombified version of his human self, traveling the underworld soullessly he’d find you.

Oh were you Carmen’s, but wasn’t he yours too?

“Language sweetheart, you make me sound like a piece of meat” Carmen murmurs teasingly shuffling so that he’s leaning over your body pressed into the passenger seat door.

“Language? Your talking about modesty after you just-” Your cut off by Carmen's rough finger pressed against your lips

“Would be careful about what you're going to say next sweetheart” Carmen raps in a low voice, tracing his finger against your bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed as if the motion of his fingers brushed up against you was of utmost importance.

You gulp back the words you wanted to say, Carmen's blown out eyes flicker from yours to your lips, and you lift your head towards him. Carmen catches you with a hand wrapped around your jaw, pushing you further against him as he crashes his lips sweet against your own. Swiping against your bottom lip, dipping into the heat of your mouth as he groans against the taste of you.

“So sweet,” Carmen murmurs into the kiss, before pulling back. Amusement clouds over lust filled eyes at your immediate anger against his denial

“What about my surprise?”

“You can’t really get to enjoy the full experience in a public car park on Michigan Ave” You whisper, suggestivity laces your tone as you feel the heat of embarrassment flood through you. You were not good at this stuff, and yet the sharp sound of Carmen’s soft groan causes you to lift your eyes up to meet him.

“Then what are we doing standing here?” Carmen replies with a growl, it erupts from his chest, and as you stare up at him, you finally take in the wolfish expression on his face. He look’s insatiable, goddamn animalistic as he eyes you carefully, a darkness that prods at his blues.

You let Carmen place you into the passenger seat, the resounding click of the seat belt the only sound in the stretch of silence between you both. A heaviness laces the air in the car as you ride home, a headiness, a lurking desire beneath the illuminating light of the console, and the flashing lights of Chicago sitting against tinted windows.

Carmen spreads his thighs across the drivers seat leisurely, resting a hand on the steering wheel, whilst the other grips your thigh tightly. There's going to be a bruise there tomorrow, and you can't help but preen at the thought of his mark on you hours later.

You count the seconds that tick by as Carmen rolls into the basement garage of your shared apartment, parking silently as he cuts the engine and remains unmoving, except for his hand gripping your thigh which he squeezes periodically.

Carmen cuts his gaze towards you, the wolfish expression that overtakes his features and turns him into a predator tells you all you need to know, but his eyes soften ever so slightly, almost telling you the next move is up to you.

Carmen doesn't need to hear the seat belt unclasping before he's tugging you on his lap with rough skillful hands. His erection pushed against the softness of your belly as groan out in blissed relief, Carmen can’t help himself, grinding his hips up into you frantically.

“Need” Carmen breathes out heavily “Need to feel you, need to be inside of you. Right now, right fucking now” Carmen groans.

There is a fumble of clothes being ripped and thrown into the backseat, and Carmen shifts the driver's seat to lean back a little. The position is unforgiving, your back is pressed against the wheel, and the space is too small, but strangely, it’s a tight proximity you crave, too long have you gone without the ecstasy of Carmen’s skin against yours.

You settle your thighs on either side of him, his deft fingers drawing soft circles across your hips, his pressing fervent kisses along your jaw causing you to fall into the crook of his neck.

“Please, sweetheart, let me feel you, let me see you, shh, it’s alright, let me feel you” Carmen hums into the heat of your skin, tasting your sweat with the flat of his tongue as he grips your hips gently.

You lift them, and with Carmen's help, you finally, after what felt like centuries, sink onto Carmen's length, the sobbing slick drenching your folds causing him to slip in easily, eliciting a breathless groan from him as he feels the heat of you wrap around you.

You can hardly breath, all you can feel, all you can taste and see is him, the delicious stretch that comes with the first sink into you is glorious, its fucking ineffable. The entirety of his length sinks into you to the hilt, and you feel every vein and ridge of him graze against your tight walls as you let out a strained whimper into Carmen's shoulder.

“ ‘S Fucking velvet, pussy grip’s like a goddamn vice every time sweetheart” Carmen praises, pressing kisses to your skin, his eyes shut as if he was memorising the feel of you, savouring it in his mind like it was the last time.

Carmen always gave you a few moments to get comfortable around his thickness, but there was a neediness in the way he held you, like you would turn to dust if he let go, and the restraint he held earlier falls apart as makes that first thrust up into you without warning.

You cry out as the blanket of pleasure courses through you, your heart is in your throat, you can barely breath, and you throw your head back cause god don’t you want more.

You press your nails into his shoulder as you try to lift your hips, eyebrows furrowed at the feeling of pleasure that fills you with every inch of him that glides against your walls, your clit, your slick. You’re a mess, and Carmen tugs at your hips, sick of waiting, and thrusting into you mercilessly, maintaining an unforgiving pace as you quake above him.

“Take me so goddamn well, huh sugar? Doesn't my wife take my cock so well?’ Carmen grunts, his eyes watching the way his length sinks into you and leaves glistening with your slick. The sight nearly tears him into his undoing, nearly causing him to spurt into you, if only he had a damn polaroid.

Your head brushes against the roof of the car as Carmen pistons into you, his hands gripping your hips as he slams you onto his length, rutting into you as the velvet of your walls cling to him. It was like goddam silk wrapped around his length, the gooey slick of your arousal coating his every ridge, dripping down onto his balls and between the space where he’d thrust into you.

A litter of profanities fall from his mouth with every stuttered thrust of his hips, its uncontrolled, and Carmen shows no restraint, no signs of stopping as he chases the wet softness only you have, the decadent caramel, your natural addicting scent, the car fucking stinks of you, and it takes everything in Carmen not to rip you off him and drink from you like a fountain elixir.

His tip brushes against your cervix, thrusting impossibly deeper with every move of his hips, he changes his position, and it causes his length to brush up against that spot that causes stars to burst in your vision. You practically arch your back against him, lifting your hips up when you feel the white hot pleasure that drips down your back, exploding your senses.

“No no no, fucking take it” Carmen snarks, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you down deeper, further onto his length, till your filled to the brim, your slick gushing out of you.

A shudder rolls through you and the sound of Carmen's low voice, dipping into something untapped, something animalistic and merciless, something that would pull every drop of pleasure from you until you were a sobbing mess.

You roll your hips against his length, a shaking, stuttering mess of gurgling words and cries as you grind your clit against Carmen's length, whilst the girth of his thrust into the spongy spot within you that leaves you heaving.

The familiar burn of a coil tightens within you, and as Carmen presses a thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves, circling it softly. The contrast of his soft feather touches against your clit paired with his unforgiving pace thrusting into causes you to keen, arching your back against him as Carmen murmur below you fervently, like he's chanting something, worshipping every curve of your body.

“Open your eyes pretty girl” Carmen murmurs, the soft voice of his voice comes back, the rough demeanour falling away like dust as he takes in the signs of your closeness.

“Please Carmen” You beg, you don't know what for, but it seems like everything from the pleading lilt of your voice. Give me everything Carmen, your love, your pleasure, your skin and bones.

“I know Baby, I know, let me see you yeah? Let me see those pretty eyes” Carmen prods gently

You squeeze your eyes open and the vision that finds you almost snaps the coil tightening deep within your gut, bellowing with heat and pleasure that sizzles below your skin like electricity.

Carmen lies beneath you, his cheeks red with heat and blushing desire, his eyebrows are furrowed, and below them, below them lie cerulean blues that glaze over in a daze, hooded lids with curls lashes that brush against cheekbones. It’s like he's in a trance, his pupils blown out in lust and something else as they watch the bounce of your chest against him each time you shealth yourself onto his thick, hard length.

White teeth pressed into reddened lips watch you eagerly, imprinting you into his mind forever, he wanted you like this always, taking every inch, screaming nothing but his name.

“Fucking gorgeous”

The lilt of his voice, grown husky and low from pleasure breaks something in you, and you aren’t able to warn him, before you arch your back impossibly, driving yourself roughly onto his hips as you get the wave of pleasure wash over you. Colours of vermilion, blue, of the wine you had drunk and Carmen's cologne burst under your lids, on your tongue, everywhere. Carmen groans loudly below you, thrusts growing sloppy as he ruts into you desperately, chasing his own release brought on by your own unending.

Carmen barely controls the thrust of his hips into you, releasing spurts of thick cum, coating your walls endlessly. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, making you take everything he gives you, forcing you into the whirlwind of ecstasy and base desire you can’t escape from.

You both temporarily forgot about where you both are in that instance, the pleasure from the both of you transports you somewhere boneless, and for a second you feel your heart stop, the wave of pleasure that crashes over you as Carmen continues rutting into you, lengthening the wave as long as possible until you feel it swallow you both whole.

It’s somewhere between a few minutes to a few hours when you resurface, you don't know, your mind is a mess of sound and colour and the ecstatic aftershock of pleasure that still runs through you. You're nestled into Carmen’s chest, the scent of your coupling thick in the air, your thighs and the leather seat are covered with your combined slick.

The only sound between you both is your heavy breathing, you still nestled up to the hilt of Carmen, and when you slightly shift your hips Carmen shoots out a hand to stop you.

“Easy there sweetheart” Carmen replies in tight constraint, over stimulation washing over you both as the buzz of pleasure still hasn't quite dissipated.

“S-sorry” You reply, breathlessly, lifting your head tiredly to catch the soft gaze of Carmen watching you. His hands glide across your naked frame, pressing soft circles, shushing and smoothing out every shudder and shake of your legs. Carmen doesn't tell you the thought of you visibly shaking from him and he only causes his length to stiffen and his mind to reel.

“So..where’s my present?” Carmen’s teasing voice re-emerges, his eyes crinkling as you swipe at him playfully.

“You’re still in me, dick” You reply with a roll of your eyes, falling back against the hardness of his chest

“Mhm, and I didn’t even get to taste you” Carmen murmurs, tracing his fingers along the curve of your waist, cupping your ass as you shudder from his words. There was a finality in it, and you don’t know if you’ll make it to the elevator before he fulfills that very desire.

The obscenity of it, you love it, only Carmen could make you this depraved. And god do you thank him for it.

Taglist 🏷 (send an ask to be apart of my taglist for carmen)

@kpopgirlbtssvt @rooster-bradshaws

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steviewashere · 7 months ago

Text

If Found, Return to Me

Rating: General CW: Implied Sex (Mild), Mild Panic Attacks Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Humor and Hijinks, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Panic Attacks, Dork Eddie Munson, Dork Steve Harrington, 3+1

Okay, the idea was going to be a 5+1, but I couldn't get past three ideas without feeling the crawl of burn-out, so I lowered it to three. But this is based on This Post from @apomaro-mellow

👕—————👕 1. He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

Steve stands in front of him. Hands on his hips. One foot cocked. “Yes, Eddie,” he answers emphatically. Even a little annoyed. Which, sue Eddie for having to ask over and over, but it’s sort of embarrassing. Especially when his boyfriend is wearing a similar shirt that just reads: ‘I’m Steve’. Makes Eddie look sort of childish, if you were to ask him. “If I’m taking you out of town, to a place I’ve never been before for a convention—something I’d probably never even go to—you absolutely have to wear that shirt. Knowing you, you’ll see some action figure stand and I’ll be abandoned by the comic books.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Or, y’know, we can just link arms and walk around the convention center?” Steve only widens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He groans again. “Okay, fine! We’ll wear these stupid t-shirts.” His head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling of their hotel. Huffs through his nose. “I don’t even know how you got these,” he grumbles, “I’d rather not know.”

Sure, Eddie’s prone to running off. He gets excited, okay? Especially when it’s something he knows a lot about, or something he’s been hunting down for literal years, or if it’s a thing he can surprise the people around him with. Thinking of the last time he wandered off and Steve had to practically scruff him, it’d been while he was purchasing a dice set for Dustin’s birthday. So maybe Steve has a point. And maybe it’s sort of a genius idea. Eddie just wants to be stubborn about this, it’d save him the humiliation.

Except, he’s still wearing the shirt (Steve in his matching one) when they finally get through the doors of the convention center. There’s people in costumes all around them: Spock and Kirk, Marty McFly, Indiana Jones, Predator, and a few kids with their dads all dressed like those ponies that Erica likes. Something in Eddie trills. And he’s already a few steps ahead of Steve before he knows it. Steve trails behind him, wonder and awe shining in his own eyes, trying to keep up with Eddie’s frantic nature.

But then they’re not even close to each other. They buy lunch a couple hours in. Steve gets a large lemonade and downs it like he’s never had something to drink before. And then Eddie’s being told, “Please wait here by the bathrooms. Don’t go do anything stupid.”

He’s leaning against the wall that reads: ‘Restrooms’. Arms intertwined over his chest. Legs crossed on one another. In the distance, his eyes lock onto a Dungeons & Dragons booth. There’s tall shelves stocked with every mini figure he could ever pray for. A few long tables that showcase various maps, dungeon master screens, and little trays for dice. However, there’s an odd rack in the booth. A hat stand. And on it, he spots the perfect thing for Steve. It’s probably expensive, Eddie debates with himself, but it’s Indiana Jones’ hat. His feet are moving before he registers the people walking past him.

And then he’s there. Holding a classic fedora hat between his hands. Turning it around in his hold. Thumbing at the material; marveling at how smooth and buttery soft the fabric is. He spots the price tag, ‘$8.00’. It’s not a terrible price. Isn’t damaged in any way. So he keeps it in his left hand, grabs a paladin mini figure in his right, and purchases both items. Bag in hand, he moves to leave the booth, but is stopped by a gentle hand tapping on his right shoulder.

He turns and is met with a girl. She’s level with his chest, eyes wide and calculating, hand retreating back to her side. “Hi—um—you don’t know me at all, but I found somebody named Steve looking for you,” she states, “I saw your shirt and figured you were the guy he was talking about.”

Eddie slumps. A part of him can’t believe the stupid shirt even worked. “Yeah, it’s probably me that he’s looking for,” he sighs. “Take me to him.”

She’s hard to follow in the crowd of people. Shorter than most and extremely quick. But she links his arm with hers and practically drags him back towards the bathrooms. And there he is, Steve Harrington with his hands on his hips, a furrow to his brow, mouth thin-lined. “Eddie,” Steve greets. He smiles, though it’s not all that sweet, but kind enough for this stranger that had to shepherd Eddie. The girl leaves them. And Steve steps closer to Eddie, crosses his arms over his chest, and then has the gall to snort. He raises a hand and plucks at Eddie’s t-shirt, directly on the word: ‘Found’. “Looks like my stupid t-shirt worked,” he snarks. The sass to this guy is unbelievable.

“Yeah, har har, laugh it up,” Eddie says dryly. “Maybe you don’t want the little gift I got for you.”

Steve perks up. Eyes glowing with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smirks. Digs into his bag and flaunts the hat. “Saw it at a D&D booth, surprisingly. Probably would’ve been something we walked by, had I not…wandered.” He steps a little closer into Steve’s space, sets the hat on top of his head, and nods in approval. “Think that this purchase was a success. You look dashing, Mr. Jones.”

In a flurry of movement, Steve snatches the hat from off the top of his head. Gaping at it. “Eds,” he breathes, “this is so fucking cool.” He places it back where it was, pulling it tight to his hairline, and grins brightly. “Thank you, but also please don’t leave me alone here,” he says, “I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. “Just thought about how excited you’d be about the hat and couldn’t resist. Won’t happen again, promise.”

Steve chuckles. “I know it will, but that’s what the stupid shirts are for. Anyway…Can we go look at the Lego set-up that we passed by in hall E? I think I saw a spaceship and—“

“Lead the way, Indy.” He might have to buy his own shirts with how Steve bounds away from him.

——— 2. “If…Lost?!” Eddie exclaims. “Steve, what the fuck? Why—How—Where the hell are you getting these t-shirts?” He asks. They’re at Steve’s house, getting ready for a day trip in Chicago. And, sure, Eddie’s never been in his life. Doesn’t know the streets of Chicago like the back of his hand. Maybe Steve does know more about where they’re going, but that doesn’t change just how ridiculous this shirt is. How it glares at him in the bathroom mirror.

Steve sidles up next to him. His t-shirt the same as the one from the convention. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist. Rests his head on his shoulder. “I have my ways,” he states ominously. “And, again, I know you. Your sense of direction is practically non-existent. You can’t deny that, baby. The only reason you found Skull Rock is because you stumbled upon it.”

“I was on the run, couldn’t exactly look at a map,” he grumbles. “But do we have to—“

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Now, can you come out to the car with me? I’m ready to go.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but does as he’s asked. Sits in the passenger seat. Shuffles through the radio stations. Teases Steve for his taste in tapes. But then they’re parking, getting out, walking around the city.

He follows Steve…for a while. Into a record shop. In the back of a diner, playing footsie under the table. Then he goes down a side street. Following a guy in a white t-shirt, hair high on his head, Adidas sneakers on his feet. However, the guy turns slightly. And…that’s not Steve. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been following this stranger, or when he started, or from where he started from. Tries to rake through his brain to the last time he heard Steve talk about the street they were originally on, but there’s nothing. The words and names escape him.

He’s stranded in a city he’s never been to. Down a street he should’ve never come across. Wearing the most humiliating t-shirt known to mankind. Somewhere, again he’s not sure, behind him Steve is probably standing by some shop entrance, hands on his hips and a scowl perfectly framed on his face. And Eddie can’t help but panic. Standing with his back against the nearest wall. Breathing through his mouth like he’s about to beef it on the sidewalk. Eyes darting over and under and left and right. Trying to find semblance of normal, any little speckle of Steve. Something.

It’s not until he’s nearly sick to his stomach, churning and flipping and knotting, that a different stranger makes their presence known. They gently invade his space. Voice soft as they notice his panic. “Hey man, are you Eddie?” They ask. He nods way too quick, but sidelines the blur to his vision because talking to this stranger seems hopeful. Especially since they know his name. “Okay, cool,” the stranger mutters, “I ran into your…friend. Steve was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I spotted him, said he couldn’t find you, but didn’t know where to look. So I volunteered to find you. And—well—judging by your shirt, I can gladly and safely reunite you guys. If you…If you wanna follow me.”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know where I am.”

The trip back to Steve is arduous. Through crowds of people and past noisy cars. Bustling shops and the waft of various seasonings from a number of restaurants. But sure enough, Steve is on some precipice. His hair a mess and face pinched nervously. Then, he spots Eddie. Eyes lighting, clearing and glistening. A look of ‘I want to touch, but know I can’t.’

When he sidles up next to Steve after the stranger leaves, he carefully joins their hands. “I followed a complete stranger for probably thirty minutes,” Eddie admits, whispering. “His hair looked similar. And he was also wearing a white t-shirt. I got so scared, Steve.”

“Well, at least our stupid shirts worked again, right?” Steve asks, breathless and still verging breakdown.

Eddie squeezes their hands. “Can we go home, please? This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I prefer middle of nowhere Hawkins. At least I know where everything is.”

Steve nods rapidly. “I need to touch you in ways I can’t right now. Let’s go.” And then he tugs their hands, pulling them along sidewalks and through groups of people, down a couple side streets. It’s partially worth it, in the end. Definitely with the way Eddie’s skin is now decorated with Steve’s love, sticky and warm with it, too.

——— 3. The shirts end up following them to the Indiana State Fair.

Steve stops them at the front entrance, right after the ticket booth, and makes Eddie face him. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, voice low and near demanding. “If I turn my back for a second and you are gone, I will lose my absolute shit. Got it? Do not make me have to keep a rope tied to your belt loop.”

Eddie groans. “I get it, Steve. Can we at least try and enjoy ourselves?”

And they do for the most part. Steve plays at a few game stalls. Eddie carries the prizes. Their legs interlock underneath a picnic table, sharing greasy funnel cake and way too sour lemonade freezes. They watch a few performers, pet some fair animals, judge prized pigs like they know what they’re doing.

But then the ferris wheel comes up and Eddie sees an opportunity already forming. Like dots connecting or the stars aligning. He wants to drag Steve through the line and sit with him in one of the seats, wait for the wheel to stop at just the right height, and kiss him as the lights dim low and the darkness of the sky envelops them. Though, because he always misses a few steps in his plans, he doesn’t tell Steve that they’re going to the ferris wheel. Just starts walking. Shoving past other couples and accidentally sidelining a couple kids. He sneaks around large families. Maybe bribes a few people to let up on the ride’s queue.

Then, Eddie turns to his left. Where Steve is.

Or…Where Steve should have been.

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “Steve?” He calls over his shoulder. Frantically, he whips around in line. Eyes wide over people’s heads. Shoving them out of the way, albeit a little rough. Spreads the line into two little rows. But he comes up unsuccessful.

Until, right on cue, a stranger is tapping on his shoulder. Instead of letting them go into their whole spiel, he just sighs defeated, “Take me to him.”

There are no words exchanged. Not when Eddie follows behind, head bowed to the ground, dragging his feet like a petulant child. And then he stops where he sees Steve’s shoes, the bright blue Adidas sneakers he’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were with me.”

Steve just sighs. Something kind of disappointed that shrivels Eddie slightly. “Where’d you even go?” Steve calmly asks.

Eddie finally looks to him, his eyes pleading. “The ferris wheel, but…But! In my defense, I thought you were with me. And I was going to get us a seat on the ride. Was gonna wait until it got up to the highest point and do something cheesy like kiss you…or blow you, whatever. But I—“

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Eds?” Steve laughs with his full body, deep from within his stomach. “We can do that, babe. All you gotta do is ask, y’know?”

“I didn’t think—“

“I know you didn’t,” Steve teases. “Seems like my stupid t-shirt idea worked again. That’s three times, you dork.” Eddie can only groan. He knows that he has a bad habit of wandering, doesn’t mean that the idea is any less annoying or dumb. “Come on, Eds. Stop throwing a fit. Let’s do your thing.”

“You sure?”

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss or blow me on that ferris wheel, I’m banning D&D at my place for a month. Let’s go.”

When they get off and start walking back to the car, Steve tugs on the back of Eddie’s jeans. He yelps, startled, but quickly shuts his mouth when he’s faced with a stern look. “You know what I just remembered?” Steve asks him. There’s mirth in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t trust this at all. “Earlier, when I was telling you about wandering, I mentioned maybe tethering you to a rope. I might have to do that. Since you can’t behave.”

Eddie heats from the inside out. A coil tightens in his stomach. “You couldn’t even if you tried,” he bites back.

Later, he finds out, Steve is exceptional with rope. What a fucking boy scout.

——— +1 The Mall of America didn’t earn its title for nothing. The place was huge, that much Eddie could discern. Which made perfect sense when buying the new and improved: ‘If found, return to…’ shirts. However, this time, it was Steve with ‘If Found’ t-shirt.

At first, Steve didn’t know how to feel about the new shirts. Simply because he didn’t seem to see a reason for why he’d get lost or wander or be found in any capacity. But given the surprise Eddie had for him, the reason definitely fit the bill.

What Steve didn’t know, that Eddie one hundred percent knew, was that a Lego store was opening up at the mall. Or, has been opened at the mall. It was the perfect time for a little road trip. A little Fall of 1992 trip to Minnesota. Driving by trees and such. Parking in the Mall of America’s lot. Figuring out what stores to hit first, what food they wanted to eat, where the bathrooms were located. Typical day out sort of things.

However, one moment Steve was with him and the next…Eddie was scouring the food court for his fiancé. Trying not to throw up the meager lunch he just had. Swallowing down panic after panic after panic that rose in his chest like tsunami waves. This place was too big for either of them to wander or get lost or have a mind of their own. Not with the way they impulsively purchases things, an awful habit they both exuded—today is the worst day to do just that.

Which leads him to tapping on the shoulder of a guy around his age. Who’s carrying two large yellow Lego bags. Just sitting back in one of the food court chairs, minding his own business. Until, he whips around to find Eddie startled and red faced. “Uh…Can I help you, man?” The stranger greets.

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says. “I just—You look like somebody who can maybe help me. I’m looking for my…friend, his name is Steve. Uh—White, around my height, dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a pair of near skin tight Levi jeans, light wash and a white t-shirt that matches mine. Except, his says ‘If found, return to Eddie’. I’m Eddie, by the way. Anyway—Uh, you probably just came from the Lego store, yeah?”

“Sure,” the guy says, completely unsure of this interaction. “Why do you need to know—“

“So you can like lead me there? I’ve never been there. And like he’s really obsessed with those damn sets and like that’s really cool or whatever, but I need to know where he is because we’re from out of town and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing in this mall or where to—“

“Alright, dude, calm down,” guy placates. “We’ll find your friend. Just…That store is pretty fucking busy. Really popular, you know? I’ll take you there, but with how panicked you are, it would be best if you waited by the entrance of the store. Is that…”

“That’s perfectly fine to me!” Eddie nearly shouts.

He follows on this person’s heels. Bobbing and weaving through crowds of other over-consumers. Maybe shoving a few of them out of the way just so he can stay with that guy. But eventually, they make it to the outside of the rather precarious Lego store. Its yellow storefront nauseating to Eddie. Almost—Genuinely frustrating him beyond belief. And he sees Steve. Standing near the back of the store. Staring up at one of the shelves, but he lets the stranger he found grab Steve for him. Because no way in hell is Eddie going to survive being swallowed up by the awfully large crowd swamping the store.

Steve emerges from the crowd, a bit offended and a lot upended. But then has the gall to appear sheepish when he’s led directly to Eddie. With a nod and a tight smile, Eddie waves the stranger off. Almost wants to run back and get his name, send him a thank you card from the Hallmark store he saw on their way there.

He turns to face Steve, though. Leans them into the wall. “Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans. “Is this what you put up with?”

“Is what—“

“The fucking panic? The—The whirling around and checking in the weird obscure places? Tapping on stranger’s shoulders only to see if they have a single goddamn idea where anything is…ever? Like—“ He sighs. “I thought that I’d never find you, Steve! You could’a at least told me you were going to go somewhere on your own. Maybe give me an idea of where you’re going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now that’s important to you?” He petulantly mutters. “Can’t go off and have fun without being pestered—“

“I’m not pestering, Steve!” Eddie grits. “I’m being concerned! I’m—You scared me,” he admits quietly. “And you ruined my surprise.”

“Ruined?” Steve echoes, confused. “What do you…oh. Oh. I—“ Then, Steve looks down to the floor. Eyes ashamed and arms tight to his body. “I didn’t…I was just excited, I’m sorry. The store was on the directory when we first came in and I like—“ He chuckles a little bit, loosening up. “—I fucking memorized where to go. What path to take. Because I just really wanted to look in there. They’ve got—Eddie, they have this one set in there, it’s a freaking spaceship and it’s called the…The Galactic Meditator or something? I can’t—That doesn’t matter,” he rambles. Takes a deep breath and pushes himself tighter into Eddie’s space. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie gives a single nod. Closes his eyes and staves off the rest of his panic and anger. He’d be a hypocrite if he lashed out right now. He knows that. And, honestly, seeing Steve geek out about toys…of all things…is kind of endearing. Maybe even doing something for Eddie.

He puts on his best smile, something genuine and pulled from within him. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I—I should’ve known that you were going to come over here.”

“I mean, you did a little bit, right? Had to find somebody that led you here?”

“You got me,” Eddie breathes. “Y’know all my tricks.”

Steve hums beside him. “I’m actually sorry, though, that I ruined the surprise you had in mind. This is a pretty cool thing.”

Eddie smirks. “Steve Harrington admitting to a geek thing being cool…When did the tables turn?” He teases. “Seems like God has heard my prayers,” he jests. With a quick sneaky look around, he grabs Steve’s hand. Squeezes firmly and exhales the last bit of his panicked nerves. “Does my fiancé want to…Oh, I don’t know…Get a Lego set?”

The hand in his tightens with a harsh, unbelieving amount of strength. He almost winces. “Really?” Steve asks, perking up. If he had a tail, it would most definitely be wagging. “Can we actually? I really want that one that I found in there, the uh…Galactic whatever it was called. I’m bad at the names, which is weird because I’ve been building these sets for a while, but I always seem to get the names wrong and I—“ Eddie interrupts with a squeeze to his hand again, a smile bright and plastered to his face. “Sorry,” Steve sheepishly says, “Let’s go in there. I can show you and maybe…you can get one of your own?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s cheek, leaving a very chaste but all the same kiss there.

The panic was worth it in the end. Because watching Steve in his element, nerd-ing over toys and how to best put them together, really makes Eddie’s chest warm. In a way that tells him he’d put up with wandering all his life, if only to get Steve to smile the way he does when proudly displaying his new spaceship.

👕—————👕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #3+1 #humor and hijinks #humor #or at least an attempt at humor #mild hurt/comfort

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toastingpencils37 · 1 year ago

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How I feel that interactions between the 2012 and Rise! turtles would go if they ever met.

Mikey: Best friends automatically, chilling together and doing fun stuff. No arguing, unless it involves baking. Because I'm sorry, 2012 Mikey CANNOT cook. And the way Rise! Mikey is, Dr. Delicate Touch will be activated by that. I mean, this guy wants to be like Rupert Swaggart!

Leo: Their interaction would very much depend on when in the Rise!Verse they meet. If it's prior to Season 2's finale, they'd probably just be very confused with each other. But if it is between Season 2 and the Movie, they probably wouldn't get along because Rise! Leo is very irresponsible despite being leader. And if it's post-Movie, I don't think they'd argue (mainly because Rise! Leo and Rise! Raph had already argued about that), but would probably be awkward because how they lead and act around their brothers is very different from each other, with Rise! Leo being much more laid back.

Raph: 2012 Raph might pick a fight with Rise! Raph at first, but later mellow out towards him.

Donnie: I'm sorry, but based off of "Donnie vs. Witchtown", Rise! Donnie would absolutely start beefing with 2012 Donnie due to feeling that 2012 Donnie may take his place. And like how Rise! Donnie does in other episodes when he is mad at someone, if anyone confronts him about it, he'll probably deny it. And with the way 2012 Donnie is, the situation will definitely get a lot worse before it gets better.

April: They'd get along very well. They'd probably be confused about just how different the two of them are from each other and how different their relationships with the turtles are at first, but that wouldn't really affect their friendship whatsoever.

Casey: Rise! Casey (Cass) and 2012 Casey would definitely first get into a physical fight with each other the moment they meet, because they are Caseys. However, right after the fight, they'd suddenly be the best of friends. Then Casey Jr. will just be standing at the edge awkwardly, being the one non-feral Casey Jones.

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ourshadowstallerthanoursoul · 3 months ago

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On this day... - August 19th

+ 1970 : Municipal Auditorium in Kansas City, Kansas, USA

“Led Zeppelin, rock group in concert at the Arena of the Municipal Auditorium featuring Jimmy Page, lead guitar, Robert Plant, lead singer, John Paul Jones, bass and organ and John Bonham, percussion. […] An abundance of hair was not the only change in Led Zeppelin, fast-rising British group. Without losing force and volume, they have added a mellowness which benefits their talents as well. Now they have developed a change of pace. Without sacrificing energy, they have added more style. […] Zeppelin’s mellow sound is an improvement. Their performance was considerably better than their one here last winter. […] About 6,500 persons saw the performance.” By S. Weber

+ 1971 : Pacific Coliseum in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

“I got to watch the concert from the stage -- about 10 feet away from Page. About 3,000 Zepheads from Seattle drove up for the show, only to find there were no tickets available. I remember them leaning on the glass outside the Pacific Coliseum until showtime, when the promoters decided it was safer to let them in rather than risking them crashing through the glass... so the Coliseum swelled to about 18,000 fans. Twice during the show they had to stop the concert and move the equipment back, because the crush of fans at the front was so thick they started to rip the stage apart. It was one helluva show.” By Rick McGrath (The Straight)

#on this day #led zeppelin #robert plant #jimmy page #john paul jones #john bonham #classic rock #ourshadowstallerthanoursoul

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years ago

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i saw this edit on tiktok AND IT REMINDED ME SO MUCH OF BANDMATE YN AND HARRY THE AUDIO, EDIT, EVERYTHING!!

and i was wondering if u wanted to u could use it as prompt for a little scenario or something !!

BUT OMG I CANT WAIT FOR THIS MOVIE TO OCME OUT ITS GONNA BE SO BANDMATE YN AND HARRY AH

ok but the Daisy Jones and The Six mocumentary series is so 1d!yn and harry...like it's literary the Jamacia, Writing Fine Line, and Building Harry's House series!!!

and as for that tiktok...

-2010-

The band is lined up in a row on stage as they perform a cover of You Are So Beautiful. They're already halfway through the competition and that first place award seems to be getting closer and closer each week.

In the center of this line-up, Harry finishes singing his part before taking a step back to let Zayn continue the song. When he does so, the sixteen-year-old looks to his female bandmate to his left. YN bobs her head along to the music, getting lost in the song.

After pulling her cardigan closer around herself, she slightly turns her head to meet her bandmate's gaze. Harry thinks she looks absolutely angelic with the orange lights illuminating the stage, the smoke swirling by their feet, her bright eyes looking back at him, and her gentle smile resting comfortably on her lips.

It still feels surreal that he first met this girl at his Band of the Bands competition the year prior, falling for a stranger he never got the chance to talk to. Thinking he'd never see her again, he's heart beat picks up at the realization that he's now singing with her, that they're in a band together!

The two teenagers break their gaze, looking at the cloudy ground while attempting to tame their smiles before taking a hold of their microphone stands to continue the song.

-2015-

After Harry finishes singing the second chorus for You & I, the band all take a moment to feel the music and take a step back from their microphone stands. The band is getting closer to their last show for their last tour before they take their well-needed hiatus.

Harry puts his hands behind his back and can't help but naturally look over to YN next to him. She strums her acoustic guitar before letting it ring out with a shake of its neck.

She looks at him and the wind knocks her out of her chest. She remembers the first year when they were placed in a band together. She wasn't a person who had crushes on guys easily but she found herself succumbing to his mop of curly hair that has now grown out past his shoulders and the dimples that still dig into his cheeks. Instead of a stylish scarf around his neck, she can see the two sparrows adorning his chest.

Out of muscle memory, she strums her guitar when the beat drops as she gets lost in the sight of her bandmate. Harry throws her a wink with a smirk gracing his mouth.

The two are definitely in another mindset than what their media-training has instilled in them for years as they continue to stare at one another for the rest of the song. The stadium full of screaming fans is drowned out and they're the only ones on stage.

-2018-

Harry looks fondly at YN as she sings Zayn's high note with her eyes closed and a scrunch of her cheek. They tilt their upper bodies to face one another as they sing the romantic lyrics. Their bodies bob to the mellow beat and their voices blend beautifully together as she sings her adlibs and other high notes for the song.

No, nothing can come between

You and I

After YN's name comes out Harry's lips, the fans absolutely lose it when they see how she walks to the center of the stage in her gold, rainbow colored dress. The two former band mates embrace, naturally digging their faces into one another's necks, and the arena practically vibrates from all their screaming.

As they sing Still The One, the audience is trembling in excitement, tears streaming down their faces as they shakily record the performance. If the fans only knew that they’re secretly treading into the deep end past friendship and into something more behind closed doors.

The two of them don't even acknowledge the crowd all that much as they sing. They dedicate the words to one another with so much love behind their eyes and passion from their lips.

As they sing the chorus and Harry continues to strum the guitar she gifted him, he stares fondly onto the womn next to him. YN closes her eyes as she sings, taking the sides of her exquisite dress and lifting it besides herself, extending out and letting it flutter itself back down. A faint breeze of wind from the fans surrounding the edges of the stage delicately pushe her hair back and he thinks that she looks unworldly.

Looks like we've made it

Look how far we've come my baby

Even after they finish the song, as the fans scream at the top of their lungs, the two former band members stay standing there for a minute longer. They lock eyes, their chest rising and falling at a steady and peaceful pace. A soft smile it's on YN’s lips and a dimpled smirk on his.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02 @fdl305 @tiaamberxx

#i binged the show the other day and its SO GOOD #harry x 1dbandmember!reader #1dbandmember!yn #harry styles x reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles and reader #harry styles and y/n #harry styles fic

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nicklloydnow · 1 year ago

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“Looking from East to West in the 90s, like Alice through the looking-glass, one could feel as confounded as the residents of Animal Farm. The Russian premier Boris Yeltsin spent the 90s spearheading "shock therapy" for the former Soviet Union. This process of economic liberalization, privatization and asset-stripping led to the concentration of wealth and power in the hands of an oligarchic elite, leaving the rest of the country to impoverishment, psychological shock, endemic organized crime and corruption. To the benefit of its leaders and the detriment of its people, the East became a mirror-image of the West's worst excesses. The Manics' critique of Western capitalism and its turbocharged adoption by the East, allied to their lack of faith in the practical application of communist ideology — though not the ideology itself — makes "Revol" an extension of the axiom of post-communist cynicism which states that Soviet leaders "were lying when they told us about communism, but were telling us the truth about capitalism."

The Manics' use of Soviet imagery in a post-Soviet world was not new, but The Holy Bible, with its lyrical preoccupations the band's adoption of military uniforms and the semi-logo of a Soviet war medal, saw it become something more definitive. How much of this was aesthetic opportunism, and how much politically earnest? Like the Manics, I grew up in impeccably Old Labour territory and, way before discussions on how to be a fan of problematic things, remember being starry-eyed about the Soviet Union. Any yearning for the USSR, though, had less to do with the reality of its final days and more to do with its symbolic opposition to a Conservative regime which was then laying siege to the industry, economy and community of my part of the country. I looked East in the way one might look to the stars in the hope of arbitrary rescue by occupants of interplanetary craft, with expectations about as realistic.

What had been a source of fear and fascination in the 1980s was, in the postmodern vacuum of the 90s, safely powerless and therefore kitsch. Fascination with the communist past — dubbed Ostalgie — tended to be denied any political dimension, allowed to manifest only in ironic or mocking forms, and very rarely linked with contemporary anti-capitalist critique (Pyzik, Poor). The Holy Bible's suffusion in Soviet chic, though, had more to it than ironic recuperation. Nicky Wire, when asked, "What do you think makes sense?", responded: "Certain kinds of socialism, where everyone is given a chance. A true egalitarian society where everyone is offered an education." As basic and uncontroversial as this is — and note the cautious "certain kinds" of socialism, pre-empting the conflation of socialism with Stalinism — it highlights the band's commitment to keeping the idea alive in politics and culture. The later Manics' Labourism appears almost uninterestingly mellow in comparison to The Holy Bible's morbid fascination with the extremes of Soviet communism, but neither approach denies the contemporary relevance of political history, or presents it merely as kitsch.” - Rhian E. Jones, ‘Unwritten Diaries: History, Politics and Experience through The Holy Bible’ [p. 76 - 78]

“Ballard, Saville, The Holy Bible all use shock tactics, aesthetics of gorgeous abjection to assault the viewer. Ballard does it with crashed bodies and psychologies smashed to shards; Saville with bloated bodies out of control, tragic flesh of saints, sanctified for their suffering with no meaning, of no purpose beyond the physical carrying-through of their existence. The Holy Bible does it with its ruptured squabbles, soul sores leaking pus of humanity's capitulation to the dark side, rotten missives, accusations, breakdowns and weaknesses, as if it can't stop shaking anymore.

All three want to make their mark on you, perceive their own mission as one of violence upon the spectator: a moral mission because amidst all the white noise and static of the information-entertainment world, the jeering is too loud, and the crying is all but drowned out. In the service of truth, the artist must lacerate, and the profound abjection of the body, the scarification of the self, the breaking of the taboo of the illusion of sanctity of the body as self-contained whole, is a perfectly acceptable way for encroaching on the complacency that allows us to live complicit lives. Aesthetic butchery is thus a moral enterprise. Obscenity, critically modulated, pulls you out of your comfort zone and makes you confront yourself, or at least the parts you hide daily in order to live in polite society and in good conscience with yourself.” - Daniel Lukes, ‘Fragments Against Ruin: The Books of Manic Street Preachers' The Holy Bible’ [p. 226, 227]

“The present absence of Richey endured even through the years immediately following his disappearance, when the band was most vociferously separating from their past. Speaking in 1996, Nicky stated, "We'll never fill that gap. We'll never get anoth er guitarist. James will never go over to that side of the stage" (qtd in Maconie, "We Shall Overcome" 88); the space of stage right became a sacred site of remembrance for the band, but also a heightened, present absence for fans. In the documentary for the tenth anniversary edition of The Holy Bible, James describes his discomfort whilst playing Reading Festival in 1994 as a three-piece (at this time, Richey was hospitalized), which included the fact that some of the fans "were staring at the space of the stage where Richey should be, refusing to look at me." This desire to look at the empty space usually occupied by an object perceived as valuable is arguably an expression of the connection between emptiness as an index of a sign that holds symbolic meaning; the absence ironically brings more meaning to the surface than was originally recognized in the object itself. In his discussion of the spectators who flocked to see the empty space in the Louvre from which the Mona Lisa had been stolen in 1911, Darian Leader posits that this incident makes manifest the split between art and the space it usually occupies, thereby prompting an interrogation of the usually unseen or hidden meaning in the artwork that typically isn't in question. In becoming a signifier of totemic mythologies of tortured genius and martyred rock stars, Richey's absence became an index for that signifier, whereby spectators intuit meaning even by staring into the void of the lost signifier. These mythologies then perpetuate a kind of lovely knowledge because they fit into an already established perspective and narrative of popular culture. Within the last twenty years, the proliferation of music magazine covers featuring Richey have played into this lovely knowledge, rather than confront the difficult knowledge his disappearance evokes.” - Larissa Wodtke, ‘Architecture of Memory: The Holy Bible and the Archive’ [p. 302, 303]

All passages from Triptych: An Examination of the Manic Street Preachers’ Holy Bible (2017)

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naturepointstheway · 2 months ago

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Need a tier list of Munks (I know there's one for Mistos)

So I was just thinking about a Tier List ranking for Mistos that I've seen out there, and now I'm wondering if someone did one for the various Munks (and they better have Gruber's Munk in S-tier at least). By the way, I was looking at the list of Munk actors on the Cats wiki, and I did NOT know that Geoffrey Garratt had played Munkustrap as well (back in 1992, apparently. Well now I need to see what HIS Munk was like now. Hand over the bootleg, please.

What other Munks would you put in a tier list and where would you rank them? Other Munks I can think of:

S Tier (absolute creme de la creme, my fave takes on the "Courageous, Imposing, Energetic" words): Michael Gruber (as hinted before), Steve Barton, Jack Rebaldi (I think you spell it like that? He's Madrid 2004 Munk), Alexander Auler

A Tier (not my absolute faves, but still got the character in a way I still love): Andy Huntington-Jones (2016 Revival), Robbie Fairchild (yes I'm including 2019 Munk, aka the man who launched a thousand Munkoff fics.), Paul Hadobas (Zurich 1991/2)

B Tier (I like them well enough, but don't capture Munk the way I prefer, for example maybe imposing but not very energetic, and so on): Darryl Robinson (1989 Vienna), Matthew Pike (the cover Munk in the Hamburg 1999 bootleg) (He's just too...mellow, for me. I need some energy here!)

I honestly can't think of any Munk that I'd rank below B tier (all Munks are good Munks to me, from what I've seen so far, I guess). What are others' thoughts?

#Cats the musical #Munkustrap

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patrice-bergerons · 10 months ago

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A small Jack/Ianto ficlet

‘I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s time to leave,’ Ianto tells him, hastily stepping into a pair of trousers while Jack appreciates the view. In Ianto’s bed, he is comfortable and warm and the sleep in his eyes is yet to fully concede the fight against the bright morning. He props his head up on his elbow, suddenly genuinely curious.

‘What does Ianto Jones do with his Saturday mornings?’

Ianto yanks out a fresh shirt from his closet, says after a moment of consideration–

‘I have an appointment to be measured for a new suit, if you must know. And I am running late.’ He throws a balled up pair of socks at Jack’s head. ‘So get a move on.’

Ooh , Jack thinks.

‘Can I come with?’

Ianto just stops at that – Jack still remembers the way he whips around, his face a picture of bewilderment. They don’t do that, you see, not back then – spend time with each other with their clothes on when there are no aliens to chase.

But they do that day – they drive into the city and browse through fabrics and discuss cuts, even grab lunch together afterwards, walking through windswept streets side by side.

Then, when they are done, he takes Ianto home and they spend the rest of the Saturday making love, pausing here and there to catch their breath and nibble on food and nap, only to pick it back up again. ‘If I knew suit shopping made you that horny,’ Ianto laughs, looking utterly debauched on the bed with half-lidded eyes and hands he has clasped behind his head. It is an open, mellow laugh, at peace with the world, like a dinner table in a well-loved home – a sound that will remain with Jack as they torture him for a year on the Valiant.

A ray of light that is his to keep alone.

A/N: this actually comes from my much larger fic two such souls, if you liked it and want more.

#torchwood #janto #my fic #I was just thinking about this scene again and realised it makes for a good little standalone piece too

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badass-at-fandoming · 4 months ago

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Since Matt Mercer and Erika Ishii's are performing in Dragon Age: the Veilguard, I thought I'd share my little daydream about Beckett-in-Dragon-Age AU.

Like, I could just moosh Vampire: the Masquerade - Dark Ages and Dragon Age lore together, or handwave a portal connecting World of Darkness and Thedas, but what if Beckett was homegrown in Orlais?

Beckett is a tower mage in Orlais when the Third Blight hits. Like other mages, he's brought out out to defend his country, and eventually he's captured by darkspawn.

The darkspawn bring him underground, and the Archdemon Toth deems him too valuable to eat. Instead, he's watched over until he transmogrified into a ghoul and kept around to provide magical healing to his "brethren."

Because he wasn't forced above ground again, he survives Toth's demise and is cut loose. Traumatized by his experience and hanging on to his shreds of humanity, he wanders the Deep Roads.

With the "song of the Old Gods" on low volume, the darkspawn are more chill, and Beckett can actually talk with Emissaries. He starts to see the darkspawn as a race under mind control and begins studying the effects and properties of the taint. Also collecting random McGuffins and cool artifacts from dwarven thaigs

Inevitable, as if called there, Beckett finds the resting place of the Architect, tries to wake him, and succeeds when he dribbles blood in the Architect's mouth. Beckett catches him up on hundreds of years of history. The gentle waking connects to why the Architect has no memories of his mortal life and is able to resist the Call of the Old Gods.

Together the two nerds scholars study the darkspawn as a people with unique physiology and culture. When they can, they try to free/let escape ghouls and captives to prevent the creation of new Broodmothers.

Beckett consents to becoming a darkspawn proper, and, under the Architect's eye, he becomes an Alpha Emmissary. Who is very beautiful by darkspawn standards.

Beckett's transformation backfires because it degrades his personality and intelligence. The events of The Calling happen and are still a clusterfuck, even though their goal was a more reasonable slow integration and in alliance with the Gray Wardens. They call off the experiment. Utha, like Beckett, becomes riddled with blood thirst.

With Utha on their team though, new possibilities appear. Her blood restores Beckett to himself. He and Utha start taking little trips to the surface, explore around, and report their findings to the Architect. Beckett learns new types of magic, including how to Shape-Change into a wolf. Utha mellows under the sun. They wear cool masks because I say so. Cue more Indiana Jones style nonsense adventures on the surface AND in the Deep Roads. They Cannot Be Contained. Beckett figures out that if he feeds off Utha's blood regularly, he looks and feels more human. The taint within functions like a Kindred's Beast, basically. See, I eventually made it vampires, y'all

Wanting to spread the love and stop the horrors, the trio hatch a plan to free the darkspawn from the Song of the Old Gods. By which I mean, what if every darkspawn is a vampire waiting to happen. There's lots of Ups and Downs. See Mother. Many darkspawn would prefer the erasure of the self and surrender that mind control gifts, rather than the reckoning of reality.

This plan is going so badly that the Architect wonders if liberating darkspawn one by one (and preventing Broodmothers) is truly viable. He convinces the other two to wake Urthemiel, who would be a massively powerful addition to their team. Beckett woke the Architect up all fine, so surely this will go well!

It doesn't. Fifth Blight time.

During the Blight, the trio hunker down and do their very best to ignore the giant fucking dragon. Beckett spends the time asking the Architect one million billion questions about dragons.

Which leads us to Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening DLC! Instead of the Withered, the Warden-Commander meets a more suave Beckett, who doesn't attack the Keep or bring an army lol. The first encounter goes softer and smoother. Beckett answers every question, but is smug and Orlesian about it. Truly, they really need this alliance with the Wardens to Work because otherwise the Mother is going to crush them to itty bitty bits.

A Bigger deal is made that the Architect, Utha, and Beckett triggered the Fifth Blight. Do these scholars deserve a second chance after such a massive mistake? Should they be left to their own devices, or should they be under close Warden watch, or should they be killed? Instead of dropping that tidbit about starting the Blight, the Mother drops that they've been killing Broodmothers (which she would view as bad, but the Wardens would view as good, I think).

If the Warden-Commander doesn't kill Beckett, Nathaniel Howe tells Hawke that good thing their expedition is going now, because otherwise that "smarmy old Emmissary" would have gotten the treasure first. Which in itself would be hilarious because Beckett would take one look at that Idol and think, "wow, that is CURSED" and cast fireball

Yeah, this is what happens when I read tie-in novels.

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #world of darkness #wod #beckett #cuthbert beckett #gangrel #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #dragon age the calling #the architect #da utha #dao:a #dao #text post #ya put the beckett in the bioware and mix it all up #my vtm nonsense

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cherrylng · 4 months ago

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UK ROCK BEST 100 ALBUMS - The 00's [CROSSBEAT (August 2006)]

00's UK rock's current location, where a diverse range of personalities are in turmoil

In the early 2000s, UK rock music was in a state of chaos, with the unprecedented idol boom taking over the leading role in the music world, but the seeds for the next generation could be seen here and there.

Since the end of the 1990s, several eclectic blues/folk/electronica bands, described as "the British answer to Beck", have emerged, and a branch of this, the "New Acoustic", has been gaining local attention. The post-rock/neo-prog rock scene developed in tandem with the rise of Radiohead, while the "new acoustic" bands that branched off from it gained local attention. It was Coldplay who drove an important wedge in the direction of the scene there. The band's "orthodox" approach to music captured the hearts and minds of the public at a time when there was an unabated demand for lyrical rock and a thirst for new Radiohead releases that were confused by the electronica-driven sound of the band. They went on to conquer the USA.

However, it was the American bands such as The Strokes and The White Stripes, and the Scandinavian and Australian bands such as The Hives and The Vines that brought about a decisive turning point in a situation where pop, dance and mellow music still dominated. It was perhaps the UK that was most affected by this simultaneous worldwide garage rock revival. People hungry for aggressive guitar rock greeted the band with enthusiasm, and new British acts such as The Libertines and Razorlight soon responded. The UK rock counter-attack began in earnest.

This led to a rapid revival of guitar rock in the UK. In fact, studies showed that guitar sales had increased several times faster than at the end of the 1990s. The fact that Alex Turner, frontman of the now flying Arctic Monkeys, was inspired by Vines as his first live experience as a frontman is testimony to this virtuous cycle.

The rise of guitar music has resulted in a wide-ranging revitalisation that is not confined to one genre. In Liverpool, for example, a unique and individual scene was flourishing around the local Delta Sonic label, represented by the eclectic psychedelic The Coral, and the fusion of rock and groove (The Music, Kasabian, etc.) also established an area of its own. Muse, who at the time of their debut were treated as a Radiohead follower, established their own dramatic rock opera world. Then came Franz Ferdinand, who further dramatically rewrote the UK rock map. With their clever blend of sonic sharpness and pop danceability, the neo-New Wave/post-punk revival (Bloc Party, Kaiser Chiefs, etc.) was in full bloom at once. This movement, which has been described as the second coming of Brit-pop, is not just a rehash of New Wave, but is also the culmination of 40 years of British rock music from the 1960s to the present (beat, glam, art rock, Madchester, etc.). -Sumi Imai

Emperor Tomato Ketchup Stereolab (1996) A mid-period masterpiece that cleverly digested the experimental elements of later electronica into pop songs. Their taste and skill crystallised at their highest point. -Mima

OK Computer Radiohead (1997) Third album that catapulted Radiohead to the top of the world's top bands. Not the most accessible work, but perhaps it was the fact that it was somewhat esoteric that got so many people hooked. -Koguchi

Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space Spiritualized® (1997) Jason Pierce led an orchestra in building this cerebrally delusional soundscape. A dizzying druggy spectacle that connects New Orleans and space in a straight line. -Kuroda

Word Gets Around Stereophonics (1997) The first album by this burly rock trio from South Wales, including the singalong classic "A Thousand Trees", and Kelly Jones' narrative lyrics were also highly acclaimed. -Yamashita

Urban Hymns The Verve (1997) The Verve's 'Urban Hymns' turned the previously often under-performing group into a national band (and a success in the USA). Listen to Richard Ashcroft's soulful singing. -Koguchi

The Man Who Travis (1999) A major breakthrough (second) with Nigel Godrich as producer, bringing naïve songwriting to the fore. Don't forget they were there before Coldplay. -Koguchi

Community Music Asian Dub Foundation (2000) Second generation Asians living in the UK hit the scene with their one-of-a-kind groove, and also worked with Primal with their anti-establishment message. This album is a reflection of London as a racial melting pot. -Otani

Rock Action Mogwai (2001) This is their controversial work, which is a step forward from My Bloody Valentine-esque guitar experimentation. It's impressive that they feature breakbeats and vocals in a big way. -Kuroda

A Rush of Blood to the Head Coldplay (2002) The band have continued to enjoy such huge commercial success since their debut that it's almost a little depressing. This second album is another fine piece of work with well-crafted songs, and has exploded around the world. -Hirose

The Coral The Coral (2002) 1st album by Liverpool's young super-individuals. They showcased their nostalgia by mixing psychedelic, acid folk and even Mersey Beat. They had hits such as "Skeleton Key." -Yamashita

Up the Bracket The Libertines (2002) Undoubtedly one of the most important albums of 00's UK rock. The band's unstable, uncontrollable performances and poetic genius in their depiction of everyday life painfully redefined "punk". -Sawada

The Music The Music (2002) UK rock newcomer of 2002, with a no-questions-asked groove. The whole band seemed to be beating to a single beat, and their development was simply breathtaking. Being Japanophiles, they have already visited Japan seven times. -Otani

Absolution Muse (2003) An epic rock drama combining hard guitar sounds with beautiful classical elements. Excessive romanticism has transformed the post-90s values of 'cool'. -Mima

Phantom Power Super Furry Animals (2003) A masterpiece from the Welsh outfit that succeeded in making a sonic leap forward. By suppressing their anger and mixing it with humour, their serious message stands out even more strongly. -Kuroda

Franz Ferdinand Franz Ferdinand (2004) This Glaswegian four-piece crossed disco with new wave and created a worldwide fever in 2004. They are the ones who started the current UK rock boom. -Koguchi

Kasabian Kasabian (2004) New working-class rock of the 00's. The 90's hooligan appearance of Oasis and Primal was successfully evolved with 00's dance grooves. -Sawada

Hopes and Fears Keane (2004) One of the bestsellers of 00's UK rock, which popularised the middle-class rock pioneered by Coldplay. In a sense, the ultimate form of "melody supremacy". -Sawada

A Grand Don't Come for Free The Streets (2004) The Streets' second album from the UK garage scene. The song depicted the reality of working-class youths and gained overwhelming support, becoming No.1. Excellent dance music without lyrics. -Yamashita

Silent Alarm Bloc Party (2005) A record that symbolised the era when the 00's rock groove became known to the world together with Franz. The jittery beats are appealing, but the melodies are also very melancholy. -Sawada

Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not Arctic Monkeys (2006) Straightforward and straight to the point. A shocking debut album that opened up the possibilities of rock music with the most difficult sound to make it sound fresh these days. A brilliant crystallisation of pure initial impulse and passionate energy. -Otani

Translator's Note: And that's it for covering 50 years of UK rock music in 100 albums. Honestly, the reason why I scanned and even translated this while article was just because Chris Martin was in the picture. Would be nice to have Matt there instead, but I also like seeing a white man with curly blond hair and blue eyes. Hard to resist him ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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