#speedwagon sunday

[sh1zukarul3z]

just a normal conversation between jojo fans (rule)

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (4-10 Dec 2022)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰👂‍Four Aunties and a Wedding (Aunties #2) (Jesse Q Sutanto, author; Risa Mei, narrator) - thoroughly enjoyed tf out of seeing Meddy & her ma & aunties again - screwball comedy end to end, with several laugh-out-loud scenes

😊Roll For Seduction (spikeisthebigbad) - Steddie, 74K - fun read, a lot of very authentic '80s details - the mention of Tuff Turf catapulted me back to being 15 and absolutely obsessed with Spader and that movie and I could not stop laughing about it

😊In the Winter Woods (Isabelle Adler) - xmastime queer cozy romantic mystery, very pleasant 2 hrs

😍Wish Granted (ambut) - Stucky, 40K, reread; love this no powers AU of recovering vet bucky seeing pro dom steve & then they catch feelings; had forgotten there's a really hot scene with thor included as well

💖💖 +153K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Just Add Some Friction (Ennaess) - The Witcher: Geraskier, 31K - sex pollen AU - mind the tags, you'll know if it's your thing or not, it was very much mine

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Leverage: Redemption - s2, e6

Mystery Menu with Sohla & Ham: Halloween Candy

Mystery Menu with Sohla & Ham: Canned Cranberry Sauce

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

Desert Island Discs - Richard E Grant, actor

Off Menu - Ep 164: Richard E Grant

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Buckley's Cave

Into It - Sheryl Lee Ralph Teaches the Children

Ologies with Alie Ward - Enigmatology (WORD PUZZLES) with David Kwong

Still Processing - America Has a Problem

Vibe Check - You Go High, You Go Low, and Then You Go Home

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Library of Congress Hair Collection

Decoder Ring Plus - How Preppy Became Streetwear

On the Media - The Oldest Trick

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Update: Jessie Unmasked

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Medfield State Hospital

Richmond Til We Die: A Ted Lasso Podcast - Ted Lasso S2E11: I'm Not Good With Goodbyes

Reflections of History - December 8th: John Lennon Is Shot Dead

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Fendika Cultural Center

Song Exploder - Son Lux "This is a Life" (from 'Everything Everywhere All at Once')

Into It - The Best TV of 2022 (Plus: Our 'White Lotus' Predictions)

Reflections of History - December 9th: U.S. Troops Arrive In Somalia

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Presenting Halestorm

The Essential REO Speedwagon

Classics [Loverboy]

Tell the World: The Very Best of Ratt

Best Of [Skid Row]

Greatest Hits [Great White]

Instru-Metal

Rumours [Fleetwood Mac]

Rewind/Unwind

Eurovision 2022

Presenting P!nk

Presenting Fiona Apple

Presenting Stan Getz

Too Many Zooz

Presenting T. Rex

Presenting The Cars

50 Years of the Piano Man [Billy Joel]

[superblysubpar]

<- part seven | part nine -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Was it real?

the song: we can’t be friends by Ariana Grande

also for your listening pleasure: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, One More Night by Phil Collins, Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston, Who's Crying Now by Journey, I Ran (So Far Away) by A Flock of Seagulls, What About Love? by Heart, and Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon

5,839 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury, new injuries & blood / mentions of getting high, but not reader / douchery to the highest order in the form of Brendan - he ignores boundaries, doesn’t listen, and a physical fight ensues - I made it as brief and nondescript as possible, but take care of yourself and do not read if you find it could be triggering (I’ve marked the scene with Brendan between red lines, and all you’d need to know is Steve saves the day) | my blog is 18+

Somewhere near Cornwallis Street - Sunday

  The screech of metal on metal continuing to alert you of his presence only makes your feet pick up their pace on the grass, pavement of the sidewalk too hot for your bare soles. 

  “Sweetheart, just get in the van. You’re wearing out my brakes, here.”

  Eddie’s been trailing behind you for five minutes, calling out the open window to get you to look at him. 

  “You know,” he calls, pausing at the stop sign as you look at the empty intersection and begin to jog across hot tar, “You’re being a brat!”

  “Excuse me?!” 

  Your foot twitches to stomp, like the thing he just called you, while fighting the urge to look at him as you continue down the neighborhood’s street. 

  “You heard me! Get in the fucking car. You gonna walk all the way across town without shoes on?”

  “Yes!” 

  “Really?” He scoffs, “Okay. What happens when you get there and you’ve got no keys?”

  Your feet slow, but you call out confidently, “I have a spare hidden.”

  “Fucking stubborn,” he mumbles as he brakes and puts the car in park and hops out. 

  Eddie rounds the hood of his car, sneakers untied and black swim trunks dripping wet still, hair pulled into a low bun with curls falling out around his face. He glares at you with hands on his hips.

  “Get. In. The. Car.”

  “No!” 

  You do stomp your foot that time, and then make a break for it, a full out sprint to get around him. 

  It’s childish, is what it is. There’s no other way to describe the way you try to run away from him, literally, or the way he snakes his arms around you, shouting about what the hell your actual problem is. No other way to describe the way you swat at a hard chest doing absolutely nothing as tears start rolling down your cheeks again and you yell the word asshole at him. 

  “Me?! I’m the asshole?” Eddie’s fingers circle your wrists, stopping your useless attack. His brown eyes blink at you, “For what? For-“

  “For lying to me, Eddie!” You shout it around a sob, knowing you’re leaning towards ugly snotting crying territory quickly. Your vision blurs as you keep going, “You manipulated me for Harrington. For some extra cash. For…for what?” Lips spitting words out around salty tears, “You started this whole fucking bet and-and you let him…why’d you do this? Why’d you-“

  “Because hello!” Eddie shouts, letting your arms go and holding his out wide, “Breaking news to literally only you because the entire fucking planet can see it: You’re totally in love with the guy!”

  “I’m no-“

  “You are,” Eddie cuts you off, eyes soft but jaw hard. “And you were never gonna give him a chance without our help because, aside from him,” Eddie laughs and gestures down the road behind you, “You’re the most stubborn person on earth. You both set your sights on something and you won’t budge till you get it. And you…yours were set on hating his guts.”

  Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you look away from him, refusing to admit he’s right and Eddie shakes his head, speaking softly now. 

“And I don’t think you told yourself you were gonna hate Steve Harrington forever because of some moment when you were twelve. I think you decided you were gonna hate him, so there was never any chance the opposite could be true. Because if you hate him, you could never love him. And if you never love him, you can’t get hurt.”

  A sob cracks your chest, head hung as tears fall and darken the pavement burning your feet. It only takes three drops for Eddie’s arms to wrap around you and five for you to wrap yours around him. He waits until his white cut off tee is plastered to his chest but no longer getting freshly damp to run a palm up and down your back and kiss the top of your head. 

  “Want some pie?”

  Eddie makes a disgusted scoff as you swipe your nose on his shirt and then look down at your bare feet.

  “Can we stop and get my shoes?”

  He smiles, head nodding towards the van still idling next to you. 

  “Would Prince Charming show up at Cinderella’s doorstep without the glass slipper?”

  Your eyes roll as Eddie walks you over to the van, helping you in as you pick up the shoes in the wheel well. 

  Eddie closes the door, face twisted in hesitation before he taps the open window frame and clears his throat.

“To be clear, so I don’t get accused of manipulating and lying again,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you duck your head as he softly tacks on, “I’m not Prince Charming in this scenario.” He nods at the shoes in your lap, “Before I could even think to follow you, Harrington was shoving those at my chest and telling me to.”

  Your chin wobbles, lip quivering as you sniff and ward off a fresh wave of tears. 

  It doesn’t matter who brought them, not really. Because all that does matter is the fact that they’re here and you want to put them on and keep running. 

  Away from your arguably skewed view of the past. Away from this street and that house and the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body, the ache in your stomach and chest that you worry won’t ever go away.

  Run far, so far that Eddie’s words can’t ever catch up and make you face them head on - admit the truth behind them. 

  All you can think about doing is running away from Steve Harrington, because that’s all you’ve ever done, but now, now there’s a small new thread. 

  A thread like the one in your skirt a week ago that you wonder if you keep pulling, you’ll find where it starts. 

  A thread that runs parallel to the feeling of needing to run away from him. One that makes you pick and pull and wonder:

  If you keep running from him, will Steve ever give up trying to catch you? And if you stopped running, what happens when he does? 

  What happens when the chase is over?

Hawkins, Indiana - Monday A.B. (After Bet)

  You’re not proud of it, on Monday morning when you call Keith and tell him you can’t come in, lying about being sick. 

  The feeling in your stomach as you move a shirt, a sweatshirt, and pajama pants to your dryer later that day makes you wonder if you were really lying though. 

  Rain tapping against your windows and the glow of the TV screen lull you to sleep on your couch. 

  You don’t dream about Steve Harrington. 

  And when a crack of thunder jolts you awake right when he’s not about to kiss you, you decide you’ll never watch a movie with Harrison Ford in it again. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday A.B.

  Your hand smacks the buttons of your radio as Cyndi Lauper’s voice croons out of the speakers, ironically the dark storm clouds from last night are fading to gray this morning as you drive to work. 

  Fingers rub soothing circles into your temple while the warm summer breeze blows through your open windows, placating you into calm energy until the radio lands on it’s next station. 

  “But if you change your mind, you know that I’ll be here. And maybe we both can learn…”

  As you roll to a stop at a red light, you blink at your radio with a clenched jaw as Phil laments about getting one more night. Thankfully, the song is almost over, so when the light turns green, your shoulders roll back as your wheels go forward again. 

  But it seems the universe is out to get you, and soon Whitney’s voice is prying your already cracked chest open, voice filling every vulnerable nook and cranny it can find in your body.

  “Nope!” You tell your radio, the universe, while your hands frantically grab for a mix out of your cupholder and shove it into the dash as you make the last turn onto Family Video’s street. 

  And if the Journey song isn’t enough to make you fall, as you turn into the parking lot, the sight of Steve is.

  He looks up at the sound of your music and you quickly slam it off, able to feel the tiny people going to work inside your chest, shouting orders about reinforcements around your heart with the wall back standing. 

  Steve’s car is backed into a space, and he sits on the hood of it. He holds a to go coffee cup and a brown paper bag that he grips tighter as you get out of your car and walk past without looking at him.

  “Honey-“

  “Don’t.” 

  He says your name, feet scrambling behind you until you slow to a stop.

“That was a shitty way for me to tell you, I didn’t mean to make it sound like we were all…conspiring against-“

  “But you were,” you interrupt, spinning to face him in a grave mistake. The leader inside of you shouting about more! You need more glue, more bricks, more! He’s too powerful! The walls are breaking again!

  Steve’s hair is a mess, wild brown waves with zero product in it. Circles under pleading amber eyes and you’re fairly certain the shirt he’s wearing isn’t washed if the wrinkles and mustard stain are any indication. 

  It makes you feel guilty, but then you remember that you’re not sure what was real for him this last week. Not sure if any of it was, or if you were just the thing he had his sights set on winning - the thing he couldn’t have till he could. 

  He shakes his head but you hold up your hand, “Let’s just forget anything happened, okay?”

  “Wh-what?” Steve blinks profusely and you look anywhere but his eyes, and freckles, and neck, and-

  “I just want to…forget it. Let’s just be coworkers who share friends again, okay?”

  “We…you don’t even want to be friends?” His voice cracks and you blink your own eyes too many times, feeling a sting behind them. 

  “I…I can’t be your friend Ste-“ your voice wobbles and you correct, “Harrington.”

  Your fingers fiddle with the strap of your bag and his crinkle the brown bag in his hand and you both stand there, staring at the sidewalk for what feels like forever. 

  “I s’pose you don’t want these then,” he offers the items up limply, before he walks over to the trash and tosses them. He clears his throat and calls over his shoulder, “Have a good shift, co-worker.”

  His fingers slide on the bridge of his nose as he gets into his car, but it’s no use. You don’t see him crying because you’re walking into the store, and he doesn’t see you crying, because his vision is too blurry to see much of anything.

  The truth of the matter is, you can’t be friends with Steve. 

  Because you’d rather be so much more than friends. 

  But if you’re more than friends with Steve Harrington, it was only a matter of time before something, someone, new came along. A new challenge and thing to chase after. 

  You’re swiping at your eyes still as you get into the back room, greeted by an apologetic looking Robin and Keith slurping on yogurt.

“Good thing you called in yesterday,” he speaks around the pink snack in his mouth, “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” you snap sarcastically, dropping your bag on the table which wobbles when you do.

  “Huh,” Keith gets up, holding the spoon in his mouth as he walks over and shakes the table. He pops it out and holds the spoon at it accusingly, “Who broke the table?”

  Your body heats up remembering Steve laying on top of you on it, the way he felt between your legs, the way he-

  “I did!” Robin scrambles up from her chair, waving her hand over it and talking too fast, “I’ll pay for it! I’ll work extra shifts! I’ll-“

  “She didn’t break it.” You look at Robin who you’re worried may offer to sell her own soul if she thinks you’re mad at her. You’re not, though you do wonder how she knows about the table. “I did.

  Keith kicks it and mumbles a ‘whatever’, tossing the yogurt cup into the trash can and licking his fingers free from the creamy substance as he talks, “How was Harrington?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Harrington?” Keith raises his eyebrows, hooking his thumb at Robin, “I can’t trust a thing she says, the traitor’s best friends with him.”

  “He…” Robin looks at you with a pout, pleading blue eyes and you sigh, “He was actually really good. Did extra work. Did the whole shipment by himself…he was…he was great.”

  Keith nods, eyes narrowed at you and then shrugs. “Whatever, he’s the new full time guy then. Spread the good news Buckley.”

  Robin’s eyes squeeze shut in a wince as you shout, “What?!”

  Keith is already walking out into the front of store and you trail behind him as he explains, “We needed a replacement for Tracy. This week was a trial run for Harrington. Thought he told you?”

  “He…” you trail off, remembering your first shift with him last week, “He said it was while you looked for the replacement.”

  Keith starts stacking tapes and Robin starts bringing them to shelves as he rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but why would I go through the trouble of posting the job, interviewing, and training a new person when one of my employees wants it?”

  “But-but, I’ll do it! I’ll interview and train! You don’t have to do a thing! I’ll-“

  “What’s the issue, I thought you said he was great? Give me a reason and I won’t give him the position.”

Keith blinks at you, bored, and Robin holds her breath next to you. 

  This means Steve and you working together most days. 

  This means watching him flirt and date and parade around Hawkins with every girl other than you for the foreseeable future. 

  This means you’ll never outrun Steve Harrington. 

  Robin raises her eyebrows at you and clears her throat as Keith snaps his fingers in your face, which you plaster a smile on to.  

“Give Harrington the job, what do I care?” 

  You spend the rest of your shift silent, listening to Keith explain to you how he wants the big fourth of July display to go and reminding Robin to tell Steve he can be in charge of the park, like he asked, whatever that means. 

  You stopped listening the minute his name was mentioned and focused on finding every movie with fireworks in it. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday A.B.

  You’re balancing on the window’s ledge, one hand holding the display of Patrick Swayze up and the other reaches for the tape that’s just out of reach on the shelf. 

  The tips of your fingers brush it as you stretch another centimeter and a huff falls past your lips when you can’t get it. You rise up onto your toes, craning just a little bit further when you start to lose your footing. 

  Large hands catch your waist from behind, holding you up. In the process of steadying you, your shirt rose, and Steve’s fingers now rest against your bare skin. 

  His hand lingers on your lower back as he reaches for the tape and hands it to you, both returning to your waist as you tape Johnny & Baby to the window. 

  “Thanks,” you clear your throat, realizing it’s the first word that’s been spoken in several hours. 

  Steve just hums from behind you before he lets his hands fall, the sound of his feet dragging on carpet only just louder than your heartbeat. 

  It isn’t fair, to know how his lips feel against yours.

  It isn’t fair, to know how he looks without his shirt off.

  It isn’t fair, to know how good it feels to come around his fin-

  The chime of the door pulls you from your self-sabotaging thoughts, the scent of peaches almost immediately overpowering. 

Blonde ringlets bounce as long legs approach the counter where he leans over a clipboard. 

  “Hi there,” her voice so sugary sweet it makes your stomach ache. 

  “Hi, welcome to…H-hi,” he stands, clearing his throat. 

  She pouts and leans across the counter, fingers traveling up his arms and making yours erupt in flames. 

  “You never called me, Steve.”

  “Oh,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’m so sorry. Something came up.”

  Something came up.

  Your scoff is loud, loud enough to have both of their heads turning, so you face the window again, putting pieces of tape aimlessly on the back of the posters. 

  “That’s okay,” Brit assures, syrupy and sighing, “But how are you gonna make it up to me?”

  “Oh, well, I…”

  “Hey, Steve?” You call, looking over your shoulder.

  He blinks at you, Brit’s fingers on his forearm now and swirling circles into it. “Ye-yeah?”

  “I’m out of tape,” you respond sharply.

  “And?” His brows furrow at you.

  “Can you get me some more, or are you too busy not doing your job?”

  His eyes narrow under furrowed brows but then he turns to Brit, voice low and daring to sound smooth now, “Sorry, babe, I gotta get back to work, but I promise I’ll call this time?”

  Brit smiles, gives a nod and a little wave with her fingers and then the scent of peaches is replaced with cedar and mint. 

  You smack another piece of tape haphazardly to the window. 

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” His voice comes from right behind you, and you don’t dare turn around and face him.

  “You have that tape?”

  “Yeah,” Steve scoffs, handing a roll over your shoulder, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “Looks like you missed a spot.”

  “Thanks,” voice biting as your fingers yank the tape from his.

  He snorts, hand pressing to the glass next to your waist, “I seriously cannot believe you have the audacity to be jealous.”

  Your knees wobble as you spin and he steadies you again, hands on your hips and just low enough for you to look down at where your bodies press together as you swallow. Steve raises his eyebrows at you, expectantly, waiting.

  “What? You want a reward for using audacity correctly in a sentence?”

Steve’s jaw pulses, his forehead furrows again, but then you tack on, “And I’m not jealous.”

  His fingers squeeze involuntarily and he shakes his head slowly. 

  “There you go again, what’d I say about that, huh?”

  Chests heave with each of your intense breaths, his tongue wets his lip as you swallow and push against the glass behind you.

  “I have no reason to be jealous,” you respond quietly as Steve’s fingers brush back and forth under the hem of your shirt. “I hate you.”

  Steve’s eyes shift in color, darker, like the forest is being covered with storm clouds as he shakes his head no again, “Quit,” he takes a deep breath, exhaling the word as he tilts his chin, “Lying.”

  The chime above the door rings and Robin’s honey tinted waves are bouncing under it as she looks around. Steve takes a step back from you, pink cheeked and swallowing, hands shaking a little as you quickly climb down. 

  Your eyes avoid his as you grab your bag and wave to Robin, mumbling something about seeing her tomorrow. 

  You’re not even surprised at the lyrics that fill your car when you start it.

  “I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day…

I couldn’t get away.”

Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday A.B.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Thunder booms overhead when you ask, like it’s protesting this conversation.

  Robin sits on top of the counter across from where you lean, tossing skittles in the air and catching them.

  Or well, trying to catch them. 

  A yellow one evades her and joins a green and blue one on the floor as she says, “Shoot.”

  Your fingers fiddle with the button on your vest that says ‘May The Force Be With You’ as Robin foregos throwing and starts to dump the bag directly into her mouth.

  “How…” your arms cross as you sigh and squint out the window at the gloomy evening, “How’d you become friends?”

  “Wha?” She asks around rainbow goo, blue eyes blinking rapidly as your nose wrinkles at the sight.

  She swallows quickly and waves her hands for you to elaborate, “What?”

  “How’d you become friends…” you swallow down the butterflies that ache to come out just from saying his name, “With Steve?”

  “Oh,” she says, softly. 

  “We just,” you’re back to fiddling with buttons, with the keys of the computer, “We never really talked about it, y’know? Like you hated his guts just like me and then all of a sudden you were tricking us into movies together. And getting him this job. Helping him with…”

The unspoken activities of last week hang in the air and she smiles tightly. 

  “Right, um, well,” she scratches at the back of her neck, legs swinging as she blows out a breath. “We worked together, at Scoops, remember?”

You nod as she continues to ramble, talking with her hands and skittles spilling on the floor as she does, “And well, aside from making me laugh all summer and actually being not so terrible at conversation and listening like I’d pegged him for, there was this one night, where we got a little high and he…we were playing truth or dare.”

  She trails off and looks at you, pink cheeks and biting her lip and you stand up straighter.

  “You what? You didn’t…”

  “No!” Robin shudders, she waves her hands, “Absolutely not! He…” She groans and looks out the door and hops down, pacing as she mumbles, “Gonna freaking kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Uggh! I asked him if he’d ever been in love.”

  Your heart beats erratically, like it’s trying to keep up with the constant pelt of rain against the pavement, like each thump is trying to break you from the inside out. 

  “And? His answer made you become best friends for life?”

  Robin shrugs, “Sort of, yeah.” She smiles, avoiding your eyes as she fiddles with the skittles wrapper. “This guy who seemed so high and mighty, so douchey, so…well, you know how he is,” she waves a hand with a laugh, “After a Summer of proving all of that wrong, making me eat my judging ways, this dingus goes and tells me that he isn’t sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but he’s pretty sure he felt it holding this girl’s hand on a ferris wheel when he was twelve.”

  Robin tosses the wrapper in the trash with a sigh, “And I don’t know. I folded. Now, whenever he says something dumb, whenever he’s an idiot, all I see is a guy laying on my floor telling me that. All I see when I look at him is this front covering up for a kid who thinks love is holding a girl’s hand. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?”

  “Did,” you start quietly, almost so quiet you’re not sure you’re even saying anything. The words muffled by rain and thunder and your heartbeat,

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

  “What?” She asks, wrinkles deepening under parted bangs. “No, absolutely not. He told me if I ever told anyone that my ass was grass.” She snorts and rolls her eyes. 

  Robin never knew how you met Steve. She never knew why you hated him, you just bonded over the fact that you did. 

  She frowns at you, “Why do you as…oh shit.”

  You’re certain she’s connected the dots you already have but then she’s looking over your shoulder and your mouth is parting at the sight of who’s running with his jacket over his head towards the store. 

  He shakes out hair as the door chimes, swiping at his eyes as he starts up and down the aisles, searching and your hands start to shake. 

  “Go in the back room, I can manage till he’s gone,” she says softly behind you, nudging you towards the back of the store and away from the man dressed in a nice suit squinting at new releases. 

  Your head nods as you quickly and as quietly as possible make a break for it. 

  But then you trip on the Predator cut out and his voice sounds just like it did all those years ago.

  “Well, what do we have here?”

  “Hi,” you scramble to your feet, floundering with the cut out pieces as you mumble his name, “Brendan.”

  He tilts his head at you and has the nerve to smile at you, “Thought that was you! You look…”

Your body warms under his appraisal, his hold nothing back rake of his eyes over you from head to toe and back up. Only hotter when he says, “Different.”

  “You…” your mouth is dry, suddenly able to recall all the things you’d planned to say to him if you ever saw him again. A plan to rub all of your success in his face, hopes of having another beer to toss. 

  Brendan squints at you, then around the store. He scoffs, “So…this is what you’re doing, huh?”

  You’re faintly aware of the door chiming as you take a step away from him, back pressed to the shelves as he takes a step towards you, arm caging you in. “What’s a girl like you, still working in a place like this, babe?”

  Why can this guy do this to you? How does he make you feel so small? 

  “Don’t…don’t call me that.” 

  Your head shakes, but that seems to be about the only thing your body remembers how to do. 

  Brendan pouts his lips, mistaking your breathless panic as being smitten, as being nervous around him for a totally different reason. “You used to like it.”

  He touches your waist and in your peripheral you see Robin take a step towards the phone as he speaks lowly, “You know, I never thanked you.

After you threw that beer at me and he kicked my ass, I actually took it seriously. Passed Biology, graduated. I work at a law firm now.”

  His hand runs up your waist, squeezing just below your ribs as he leans in, “I feel like I should take you out, to say thank you, babe.”

  Your mouth parts, but someone else beats you to it.

  “Pretty sure she made it clear not to call her that.”

  Brendan backs away from you, if only slightly, to look at Steve standing at the end of the aisle. 

  “Seriously? Go ring up my rental,” Brendan snorts, tossing the tape at him harshly before he turns back to you. “Where were we, babe?”

  Steve’s reflexes let him catch it, while he glares and grits through clenched teeth, “Call her that one more time, see what happens.”

  “I’m not a drunk high schooler anymore Harrington, don’t think I have anything to worry about. Right bab-“

  Steve’s fist connects with Brendan’s jaw, sending him staggering away from you. Steve’s eyes are on you, frantic as he breathes heavily and pants out, “Are you oka-shit!”

  Brendan barrels into Steve, knocking him down to the ground, fists connecting with his stomach and the side of his head. 

  You shout out both of their names, shoving at Brendan to get off of Steve who coughs after the hits stop coming. 

  Brendan staggers to a stand, swiping at a bloody nose and spitting at Steve. You stand and shove at his chest, “Get out! Before we call the cops on you, you arrogant, pathetic-“

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brendan waves you off, “Fucking deserve each other.”

  The door swings shut behind him, and you stare ahead, breathing heavily, sure it’s the rain running down the glass making your vision blur. 

  “Steve?” Robin’s on the ground next to his head.

  He moans, but motions for her to help him up as you turn back around, so she swats at his chest, “Why’d you do that! What is wrong with you? He could have killed you, you idiot!”

  “Christ Robin,” he grumbles, “I’m fine, just-hey.”

  Steve’s over to you in two steps, bloodied and bruised hands cupping your cheeks and swiping at them. 

  Even through blurred vision, you can see the bright reds and darkening purple on his forehead, your fingers brush the scrape that’s just above the two freckles on his cheek. 

  “Thanks,” you hiccup out of a sob trying to break.

  “Of course,” he murmurs, thumbs still brushing over your cheeks gently, “What are…” he swallows, “What are friends for?”

  The sob cracks just as the thunder does and Steve shakes his head, eyes big and worried, “Hey, hey, come on, that asshole is not worth these and I’m not either and-“

  “St-Steve,” you sniffle, interrupting him. Trying to reign in all the extremely big feelings that have been held back for a long time, “Will you drive me home?”

  He looks surprised but quickly nods, “Yeah, yeah of course honey.”

  “Steve, I really don’t think you should be dri-“

  Robin’s hesitation cut off from the look he gives her and answered only with her eye roll. 

  Your hands shake in your lap, fingers playing with the seams of your jeans as Steve drives silently. The radio plays softly, lost in the rain pelting the windshield and the swoosh of the wipers getting it off. It’s only when you make it to your street that you finally are brave enough to talk again. 

  “How,” you clear your throat, sniffling away any residual tears, “How are you doing? With the storm I mean?”

  “Oh,” Steve nods, frowning at the road, “Yeah, good.”

  “Was that…was it real?” Gaze falling to your lap as you dare to ask.

  “What?” He stops at an intersection, looking over at you, ducking his head to catch your gaze. “What do you mean? The storms? There’s no way, you gave them too much credit. Those kids are smart, but they’re not that smart.”

  “No, I mean…are you even afraid of storms? Or was that just another part of the plan? Was it real?”

  Steve blinks at you until a horn honks behind him and he nods as he pulls away, “Yeah, yeah it was real.”

  You nod and he looks at your profile as you stare out the windshield, tear stained cheeks and bottom lip bitten raw, your hands won’t stop fiddling with things. When he pulls into the parking lot of the complex, he faces you. 

  “Is that why you won’t talk to me? You won’t even be my friend? Because you think it wasn’t real?”

  Your shoulders rise in a shrug, heart beating harder than it ever has as Steve shakes his head. He reaches for you, but hesitates, murmuring a plead.

  “Please look at me honey?”

  Your exhale is shaky, eyes watery again as you do what he’s asked. Heart’s What About Love starts playing. You close your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as you swipe at your cheeks. 

  When you open them again, Steve is watching you carefully, and he speaks so softly, so sincerely, like he wants you to have to lean in to hear what he has to say.

  “Everything was real. Eddie let me take you to the diner and Robin put on Peter Gabriel, but that’s it. I swear, honey. How you reacted to those things, what I said, what you said, all of it, was real. And I thought, at my house, I thought it was clear how much I want you.”

  Tears rapidly fall down your cheeks as you nod, “Okay, but, what happens if you only want me because you can’t have me?”

  “What?” Steve looks at you, frowning, eyes glassy.

  Your hands swipe at your eyes as you shrug again. “What happens when you get what you were chasing, but another, more challenging want, comes along?”

  He swallows, looks up at you with his own watery eyes, “You really think that’s all I want? Do you hate me that much?”

  Images of your hand in his on a ferris wheel stir in your mind, of what could have happened after you threw that beer in Brendan’s face, images of a kiss and another kiss and another until you’re crying again. 

  As you lean over the console, you whisper against his skin before pressing a kiss to the two freckles on his cheek.

  “Never hated you.”

  You’re quick to climb out of his car, and run through the rain up your stairs and slam the door on the storm. Your back falls against it as you suck in a breath and cry, the lamp and radio flicking on as you do. 

  Heart’s song that was just playing in his car stops, and a familiar tune starts playing. It’s melody making you think of Steve between shelves, whistling. Making you think of a pool table in a basement on Cornwallis Street. 

  Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you try to get your breathing under control. 

  What if Steve Harrington has been chasing you all these years, but it’s never been about the chase, he just didn’t know you kept changing the rules and finish line on him? What if all he’s ever wanted was to run the race alongside you?

  Robin’s voice accompanies REO Speedwagon’s, making you spin towards the door. 

  Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?

  As you fling the door open, wondering if you can catch him, Steve’s fist raises to pound on it.

  He stands on the stoop, rain pouring down, making his hair stick to his forehead and his eyes squint. 

  “Give me one more chance,” he breathes heavily, his car lights and wipers still going from the space below. 

  The music from inside your apartment plays loudly as he takes a step towards you and keeps pleading.

  “I’ll literally get on my knees right now, honey. I am begging you, to give me one chance. One date. No help from Eddie or Robin. Nobody. Just me, and you. Let me prove it’s real. Let me prove it to you?”

  It’s the moment right before a storm starts, when it’s like the earth is taking a deep breath of, soaking up the silence before it won’t get a chance of clam again for who knows how long. 

  He blinks at you through rain droplets clinging to his eyelashes, squinting under a bruised forehead and pouting through kissable lips. Your voice wobbles even after you shove the butterflies back down, giving them no chance to escape, not yet. 

  “Ask me nicely.”

BICFTF TAGLIST: Thank you SO much 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

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[jojosbizzarewife]

Cooking Headcanons

—————————————————————————

Who cooks with you

Jonathan

more often just wants to keep you company in the kitchen while you cook, he will chop all vegetables at least

William Zeppeli

Caesar

was always good at cooking, gets competitive about it when Joseph comes around, and always offers to show off his cooking skills just for you

Avdol

insists on being the taste tester

Polnareff

Koichi

Narancia

a surprisingly good cook

Giorno

wonderful baker, expect extravagant baking dates every Valentines Day

Ghiaccio

loves cooking with his s/o, loves to try new protein snacks and drinks together

Formaggio

Jolyne

loves to try whatever recipes are trending (basque cheesecake is her favourite)

F.F

Funny Valentine

buys you both cute couple themed aprons

Johnny

Norisuke

on sundays, he meal preps lunch and dinner for the week. Family Rule "if you don't help, you make your own meals that week"

Mamezuku

Who cooks for you

Speedwagon

Erina

Suzy Q

the original Italian grandmother - cooks for everyone

Joseph

insists on cooking for you, it's not good, he's going to try again, you're not leaving until he makes something you like

Okuyasu

doesn't cook well, but does cook for you - Pancake Sundays are a must

Tonio

Bruno

loves to make you his family recipes, always tells you the family history of the dish

Mista

Prosciutto

(inspiration for this post)

Risotto

also an Italian grandmother, for a giant he is pretty smooth in the kitchen

Weather Report

Hermes

Mountain Tim

Lucy

loves to pack little lunches for you both, will purposefully make them as embarassing as possible, includes a sweet note in each lunch

Yasuho

Who can't cook

Dio

Kakyoin

Jotaro

can only cook instant noodles - makes really good instant noodles

Josuke

will not cook, will always opt for takeout

Rohan

Fugo

instantly HANGRY, too angry to cook

Abbacchio

says he can do the basics (he can make cereal)

Illuso

gets bored easily and will either burn or undercook the food - you will probably get food poisoning

Melone

Anasui

Gyro

useless ass himbo cowboy I'll be your mommy

Ringo Roadagain

Gappy

I wouldn't even trust him to microwave popcorn

[macfrog]

just me over here thinking about reader having a favourite song and singing bits from it in front of joel constantly just to have him surprise her one night when theyre spontaneously slow dancing in the kitchen (where else amiright?) and he sings the lyrics softly to her… BESTIE I AM NOT OKAY

and to make it worse, he emphasizes certain words in the song to subtly let her know he thinks about her when he hears them I AM DONE RIP

BESTIE YOUR MINDDDD I SCREAMED FOR 5 MIN STRAIGHT BEFORE I WROTE THIS

[cowboy like me dbf x reader - 800 words of pure FLUFF below the cut sorrysorrysorry]

i feel like, as much as she’s a lil swiftie and whatever, one of her guilty pleasures is dad rock. her dad probably didn’t let her play her own stuff in the car growing up ‘cause he figured his stuff (marty robbins ew) > beyoncé, so she wound up liking a whole lot of that stuff. lotta queen, lotta eagles, all that. and she probably heard the likes of can’t fight this feeling by reo speedwagon as a kid and used to dream about when she’d meet someone who might love her enough to feel that way.

one day she’s at joel’s and she’s in the shower. it’s a sunday morning, she’s spent the night. he’s still laying in bed, sat up against the headboard. and he can hear her humming.

dude was literally alive when the song came out. he knows what it is. and he just sits with this dumb smile on his face ‘cause she’s graduated to quietly singing: even as i wander, i’m keeping you in sight.

n then she pushes the door open, towel around her body, probably twirls over to the foot of the bed still singing the words, and he just sits with his arms crossed, shoulders bouncing, chest vibrating with stifled laughter.

she’s like, c’mon, old man.

excuse me?

this is your era. sing with me, she pleads.

and she’s crawling up the bed to him, tilting her head and nananahing the guitar solo until she’s sat in his lap, his hands on her hips, watching her perform for him with what he reckons is more passion than even the band had.

she hums it when she’s following him around the grocery store, elbows on the handle of the cart, watching him doing all the heavy lifting. she sings it while they’re lying on his couch, both doing separate things but together, y’know? he can’t focus on the building plans he’s tryna read on his phone ‘cause she’s stuck singing the same bit on a loop while she flicks through netflix or something.

so then maybe one night the power goes out and they’re home alone. she raids his cupboards for candles; they sit in the kitchen and eat leftover pizza and drink cheap wine and wait for the lights to turn back on. and joel puts some playlist on his phone, sits it on the counter while they eat and talk and…whatever else you do during a power outage.

he gets up to go refill their glasses. she follows, sliding the empty pizza box onto the counter as pearl jam fades into silence. and then…the twinkly intro. the piano melody. the crooning bassline. she gasps. her jaw falls slack, huge beam spreads across her lips. eyebrows lift as high as they’ll go. n joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh.

she takes his sleeve in her fist and pulls him into the middle of the kitchen, and he lets her, obviously. and she’s swaying, and his arms sit comfortably on her hips, wrists cross at the bottom of her spine. and he watches her with this little glint in his eye, the reflection of the candles and probably something more, just letting her sing to him.

you-really-gotta-sing-this-time-cmon, she says, squeezing it between the lines of the song. and i’m getting closer than i ever thought i might, she sings.

and she shuts her eyes, balls her fists and jerks them twice when the drums kick in, and joel snorts, leans in, lines his lips with hers until they’re, like, an inch apart, and they’re breathing the words to one another as they sway back and forth.

…and i can’t fight this feeling anymore, i’ve forgotten what i started fighting for…

her arms cross around his neck, and his forehead’s on hers, n she’s singing it’s time to bring this ship into the shore, and he sings back and throw away the oars forever, and they laugh because it’s so fucking corny, so sickly sweet, and neither of them care.

she lets him sing the second verse, mostly ‘cause she’s never heard him singing this song and never heard him sing so softly, like he’s doing it for only her to hear, and no one else. she kinda nuzzles her head into his neck and feels the bristle of his beard against her temple, his lil quiet drawl singing, it always seems that i’m following you, girl, ‘cause you take me to the places that alone i’d never find.

and it’s cute, and they’re so in love, and my chest hurts to think about them looking at one another as they sing the last fucking line, the lil oooohs, the lil saxophone notes. the dumb little grins on their dumb little faces.

yeah. what the heck, dude. i need an inhaler.

series masterlist | main masterlist

[striped-flotsam]

Speedwagon Sunday

[quinnmorgendorffer]

‘80s music tournament part six!

So far the winners are “Under Pressure” by Queen & David Bowie, “Holding Out for a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears”, and “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds.

Well, I know supposed “dad rock” is a thing nowadays for tumblrinas, so here’s a round dedicated to that genre/songs from dad rock artists I think for the genre best.

Disclaimer: my dad was born in the 1940s, so anything past the 1970s is not my definition of dad rock, but I have seen all of these categorized as so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Please reblog and feel free to add any other ‘80s favorites, dad rock or not, in the tags!

Also check out the other poll out right now for ‘80s ladies!

[victorfrench]

✽  . ˚   &.  victor french  occupies  level  number: 602.  you’ll  know  the pisces  is  home  if  you  hear  delicate  by  damien rice  blasting  through  their  speakers.  the  classic literature professor  has  been  living  in  wisteria  for  three years and four months.  since  then  they’ve  built  a  reputation  for  being  chivalrous  and  moody  ,  typical  for  the gregory peck wannabe

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 : VICTOR DAVID FRENCH 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 : VIC, DADDY V FRENCHIE 𝐀𝐆𝐄 : 46 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 : MARCH 16, 1976 𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 : PISCES SUN, LIBRA MOON, VIRGO RISING 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 : WHITE 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 & 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: CIS MALE, HE/HIM 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : DIVORCED 18 YEARS 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 : STRAIGHT 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 : JASON SUDEIKIS

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒 : sincere, astute, scatterbrained, avoidant, moody, chivalrous 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 : the smell of freshly poured over black coffee, the sound of turning pages of classic literature, & ray lamontagne on vinyl 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 : pour over black coffee, the smell of old books, taking long walks with his german shepherd - kira, doing the new york time crossword puzzles in ink, mimicking a transatlantic accent, buying second hand furniture 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 : the fact that apple keeps updating their phones, staying up past 11 p.m., waking up any time before 7 a.m., ikea furniture, talking about his ex-wife, being asked why he doesn’t have any kids 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 : ENGLISH, FLUENT IN OLD LATIN 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : 6’ 1” | 185 cm 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 : QUALITY TIME/WORDS OF AFFIRMATION 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 : TAKE IT ON THE RUN BY REO SPEEDWAGON & DELICATE BY DAMIEN RICE 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒��𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 : he has stitches scar on his right elbow from when he broke it as a kid 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 : BOSTON, MA 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 : German Shephard, Kira - 5 years old

Victor grew up in your average middle class American household -- watched football on Sundays, family dinners every night, a mother and father that didn't express much affection but didn't outright despise one another. He did well enough in school to get accepted into Dartmouth. He majored in Literary Theory & Criticism and got his masters in Latin.

Along the way, he met his first wife, Angela. They met his freshman year got married right after undergrad. Just a short six years later, after finding out about Angela's years of infidelity, he filed for divorce. While he tells others it was an amicable separation, that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Angela got the house, and half of his savings. Victor moved to from Boston, MA to Los Angeles in 2004, shortly after his divorce to get a fresh start.

He started teaching at the local university, sharing his love of the classics with young, open-minded students. Since his divorce, he hadn't dated seriously.

Victor bought a cute little cottage on the outskirts of LA when he moved but found since he wasn't in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, that it was quite lonely. In 2019, he sold his house and moved to Wisteria, where he could meet like minded people.

[bladedhatsandstars]

@stellamortua

Strutting Down The Ogre Street contd.

“None at all.” Robert replied cheerfully. “It’ll take more than a month’s holiday to shake my influence around here.”

He offered his good arm to help Jonathan up the stairs, but thankfully Jonathan managed alright.

“Now you see why we took the long way around to get to Wang Chen’s, eh? He’s on a normal road with the other shops, at least, but getting to the apothecary from the rookery ain’t easy for the ailing.”

He grinned wryly. He knew how gossip and fables worked. He’d used it for his own purposes many times. He didn’t call himself a meddler just because he liked fancy titles.

“All my life.” He answered quietly. “At least, when I was in town. I spent a lot of time hitchhiking on carts, ships, and even trains.”

He paused. “Do you want to greet everyone first or see more?”

He smiled ruefully. “Aight. I knew that answer already.

He turned down another street. “This here is where the story of Speedwagon the Meddler began.” He kicked a pebble without looking up at the rundown orphanage they ended up in front of. “Been on my own since I was four, though.”

“I only know my birthdate because I was sometimes addressed by my intake number instead of the name they gave me, and I was number 10-16-63-13. Thirteenth kid abandoned that year.”

He veered off to a church down the street. “I hid under the pews here after I ran away from the coal mine I was sold to. The cloister is bloody cold, but when all you’ve got is newspaper for a roof, any sturdy building seems like a potential home.” He grinned but behind the amusement was a deep loneliness and pain Jonathan couldn’t begin to unravel. Jonathan knew what it was like growing up isolated from his peers and distanced from the adults in his life, but he’d never know just how cold the world was to a child barely old enough to speak, who had been thrown away all of his life.

“The priest made me go to the bathhouse down the street and attend a few Sunday services to ‘earn my keep’. He considered making me the candle lighter. What’s it called. The acolyte?” He looked to his companion questioningly. “But I was tired of following rules. I started hiding from him, too, and finally gave up staying there. I probably wandered the streets for a whole summer. Maybe more.”

He stopped in front of a rookery. “This was my first real home…” He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and stared at one of the barred, shuttered windows. “An elderly lady dropped her groceries on the street down the lane that way. I was tempted to make off with them, but she was struggling to catch her breath, and couldn’t see real well…”

He fell silent for a few moments as he stared at the building’s façade, lost in memories.

“She was the first kind soul I met. I was just a scruffy little street urchin who barely knew how to tie his shoe and who’d outgrown his orphanage clothes. I’d stolen from people like her before. But because I helped her pick up her groceries and carried them to her apartment, she invited me to stay. She never made any demands or made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be around her. I still felt awkward, so I slept on a rug in front of the stove for a while.”

He smiled sadly and started walking back the way they came. “She didn’t have much and I wasn’t about to crawl into bed with her. She snored and smelled weird. Old people, you know?

“She was still priceless in my book, though. She taught me how to read and write a little, and how to make tea, and some home basics.

“All that generosity. Nowhere to go. She couldn’t do much with her hands, so she couldn’t work at the mills any more. I never saw anyone else talk to her, or visit her. All either of us seemed to have was each other and that little apartment, but it was all I could have asked for in a family…

“In exchange for helping with cooking, errands, and cleaning, she got me clothes and made me a proper lad… She called me Edward for some reason. I never did ask. I wish I had...” He swallowed and moved on down the road.

If Jonathan pressed for more information, Robert would stop again and stare at the mud, his shoulders tense.

“She died in her sleep. I was dozing in her lap with the last book I was reading to her...” He shivered. He would never forget his first brush with death. “I skipped town to avoid being accused of robbing her… I didn’t know nothing about saying goodbye back then. All I knew was that my family and home were no longer mine.”

He reached for a hat brim that wasn’t there to hide his face anymore. Ugh. He’s really should try to find another before they leave London. He resumed walking, this time not leading them anywhere in particular. He’d answer questions about the area, if Jonathan asked, but his mind was far away.

“I stole away on a ship and learned the way of the sea real quick. I probably spent a couple of years hitchhiking on cargo ships. They were easier to hide in and less smelly than fishing trawlers. I eventually built enough of a reputation as a hardworking lad, some of me shipmates invited me to other jobs. There was just one problem…”

He grinned awkwardly. “I sunburn easily. Their sunscreen worked but I sweat too much and needed to reapply it just about every hour. I gave up and said I’d do my work after the sun goes down. I ended up swabbing the decks, learning how to chart the stars, and wind knots. We spent dinner time together though. They were always in good spirits after getting a pint in them, and a story. They were good company. I learned to count and haggle from them. Amongst other things, heh.

“I enjoyed seeing the world, but I never developed a love for seafood. After a storm made us lose half the cargo and all our provisions, I gave up the sea for the city. I picked up whatever odd job I could. Newspaper hawking, busboy, delivery boy, dishwasher.

“I hotwalked and groomed cab horses for a while, too. I still miss some of those leather mouthed nags. They’d walk into the broad side of a barn if you told them, and try to eat the stall, but I enjoyed talking to them. They always seemed to listen and state their own opinions, heh.” He grinned, clearly amused by the animals of his past.

“Aye. I lived in the hayloft for a few months until some plonker dropped his cigarette outside the barn. We’d just gotten a hay delivery that day. Some wisps caught on fire and next thing I knew I was choking on smoke. I got all the horses out safely but I lost my home and job again.

“I was getting old enough, people stopped feeling sorry for me and started suspecting me of stealing and other misdeeds, just for loitering too long while looking for something to eat or someplace to get warm or dry for a day. Even the poor suspected me. So I did what any self respecting teenager would do. I did that they accused me of. I ended up boxing and stealing for a living. Some store owners around here pay for higher quality goods. They don’t care how we fetch them. It’s how I met my first best friend here. You remember that horseless carriage me mates drove? Dirk made it.”

He took Jonathan to a blacksmith forge. “Here it is! The start of a new era for Speedwagon!” He

“I stole some sheet metal from him to use as a lean-to during one of the rainiest winters I can remember. I went back for more supplies and found a sandwich and cup sitting out, right here on this step.”

“You can imagine how unthinkable that was. Most kids like me dug through garbage for food. Nobody would leave a perfectly good sandwich sitting out like that. I knew it was a trap. But I thought I was fast enough. Hehehe. I did not name myself Speedwagon just because it sounds interesting.”

He flashed his friend a grin.

“Fastest feet on the street.

“But Dirk wasn’t out to beat me or chew me up. He just watched me from the window until I noticed him, and asked if I needed another sheet. I thought he was joking. I ran off, like the thief I was. But then, like that old lady, I saw him struggling to drag some scraps to his shop. Don’t know why, but I helped him.

“He offered me a cup of tea as thanks and jawed a while about his shop. He’s a fifth generation smithy. His family’s run that business longer than most of the neighborhood’s existed. There was always people in need of a horseshoe, a wagon part, stove repair, and whatnot. When smallpox started felling people left and right, and everyone was scrambling to survive, his family moved out to the countryside, but he stayed. He said people still need blacksmiths and tinkers, so as long as there was business, he’d keep it going. He’s been on his own for a decade now.

“I liked the smell of him. Good, honest, minds his own business, sticks up for himself when he needs to. He didn’t pick up the nickname Dirk for nothing, heh. But he’d rather not ruffle feathers unless he has to.

“I met a few kids about my age, too, and started doing odd jobs again. Ran errands for people in the neighborhood. Helped Dirk fix some pipes and stoves. Got revenge for some wrongs…”

He looked up at the murky sky. “We had a self appointed king back then. With so many rookeries emptied by Scarlet fever, the plague, Smallpox, cholera, and so forth, he decided he was going to charge the remaining people for living here. It was every man for himself those days. I was only fourteen then, but I knew he was going to get more people killed by denying them access to the bathhouse, the water pump, anything burnable, and alms. His goons even staked out places around the marketplace. It was slim pickings for the rest of us, and there was no way to make dosh without leaving the neighborhood, or selling what we had and paying him.”

Robert cracked his knuckles, eyes narrowed as he stared down the street, phantoms of the past playing across his memories. “People like that are worse than vomit. I already knew everyone in the neighborhood. I saw what those taxes did to them. There’s no way they’d make it another cold winter without coal or wood, or dosh to buy food and medicine. So I did what I do best.”

He shook his fist in the air. “I made allies. Lots of them. Even folks in neighborhoods outside of this one. I messaged my pals at the docks, too, and the cabbie company. I rallied all my new mates together and called that bastard out for a meeting. Told him to his face he was killing us. The blighter laughed.”

Robert smirked malevolently. “It was the last laugh he had on this street, I’ll tell you that much. His mates had to drag his arse out of town.”

“I laid down some new rules. I’d already spoken to my mates and polished those rules up. And that day, Ogre Street had a fifteen year old king.” His proud smile faded. “And then his bastard best friend knifed me in the face the next day. Just about killed me. If it weren’t for Tattoo, and Kempo, and Dirk, and Hugh, and Ms. Beverly our resident nurse, I wouldn’t be here today. Recovery was a-“ He started to utter a curse but he paused in remembrance of his company and cleared his throat.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t in my right mind for a while. The fever and nightmares were bloody awful. I couldn’t drink properly, or eat or talk for weeks. It went all the way through. Just about got my tongue if Kempo hadn’t kicked him back. I owe my mates everything for not only taking care of me, but sitting with me night and day, pulling me through the hallucinations and despair. I knew my life as a working man was over. Nobody in their right mind would ever hire a mug like this.” He stroked his scar. “But once I got back on my feet, I worked hard to prove I had what it takes to whip this place into shape. And that’s the story of Robert E. O. Speedwagon, the Meddler.”

He tugged his lapels and straightened proudly.

[starman-waiting-in-the-sky07]

characters im considering for the hunger games simulator, got any more?

Goku Vegeta Frieza Piccilo Ikuro Hashizawa Usagi Tsukino Yami Yugi Blue Eyes White Dragon Monkey D. Luffy Naruto Jonathon Joestar Robert E.O Speedwagon Dio Brando (part 1) Joseph Joestar Caesar Zeppeli Rudol Von Strohiem Kars Jotaro Kujo Old Joseph Noriaki Kakyoin Muhammed Avdol Jean Pierre Polnareff DIO Josuke Higashkita Okuyasu Nijimura Rohan Kishibe Yoshikage Kira Giorno Giovanna Narancia Ghirga Diavalo Joylne Cujoh Foo Fighters Enrico Pucci Johnny Joestar Gyro Zeppeli Funny Valentine Scott Pilgrim Laios Marcille Senshi Izutsumi Mickey Mouse Donald Duck Goofy Pluto Minnie Mouse Daisy Duck Max Goof Pete Chip 'n' Dale Bugs Bunny Daffy Duck Tazmanian Devil Roadrunner Wile E. Coyote Elmer Fudd Tom And Jerry Scooby Doo Shaggy Velma Fred Daphne Winnie Tigger Eeyore Popeye Olive Oyl Bluto Papa Smurf Smurfette Clumsy Smurf Vanity Smurf Gargamel Danger Mouse Penfold Colonel K Baron Greenback He-Man Skeletor Thomas The Tank Engine Fat Conductor Optimus Prime Postman Pat Fireman Sam Leonardo Shredder Homer Simpson Marge Simpson Bart Simpson Lisa Simpson Maggie Simpson Moe Syslak Krusty The Clown Clancy Wiggum Fat Tony Mr. Burns Smithers Lenny and Carl Seymour Skinner Sherri and Terri Dr. Frink Sideshow Bob Milhouse Ned Flanders Apu Nahasapeemapetilon Grampa Bob The Builder Jimmy Neutron Peter Griffin Lois Griffin Meg Griffin Stewie Griffin Brian Griffin Fry Leela Bender Prof. Farnsworth Amy Wong Hermes Conrad Dr. Zoidberg Nibbler Richard Nixon's Head In A Jar Scruffy Spongebob Squarepants Patrick Star Squidward Tentacles Mr. Krabs Sandy Cheeks Plankton Zim Samuri Jack Kim Possible Wallace Gromit Aang Toph Prince Zuko Phineas Ferb Baljeet Buford Isabelle Candace Perry The Platypus Dr. Doofenshmirtz Finn The Human Jake The Dog Princess Bubblegum Ice Wizard Mordecai Rigby Twilight Sparkle Bob Belcher Linda Belcher Tina Belcher Gene Belcher Louise Belcher Teddy Mr. Frond Jimmy Pesto Gumball Watterson Darwin Watterson Dipper Pines Mabel Pines Grunkle Stan Soos Wendy Old Man McGucket Lil' Gideon Pacifica Northwest Bill Cipher Templeton Steven Universe Garnet Rick Morty Star Butterfly Marco Tom Kelly Ludo Avarius Toffee Milo Murphy Scrooge McDuck Huey, Dewey And Louie Webby Vanderquack Launchpad Della Duck Lena Ma Beagle Flintheart Glomgold Magica DeSpell Adora Catra Glimmer Hordak Cricket Tilly Gramma Anne Boonchuy Sasha Waybright Marcy Wu Hop Pop Sprig Plantar Polly Plantar Maddie Ivy Sundew Leopold Loggle Grime Lady Olivia King Andrias The Core Mr And Mrs Boonchuy Luz Noceda Camila Noceda Eda Clawthorne King Clawthorne Vee Willow Park Gus Porter Amity Blight Hunter Raine Whispers Lilith Clawthorne Hooty Boscha Kikimora Belos The Collector Molly McGee Scratch Libby Andrea Courtney Pim Charlie Mr. Boss Mr. Frog Homestar Runner Strong Bad Salad Fingers Charlie The Unicorn Double King Skidd And Pumpy Runmo The Meatball Man The Bonekeeper Uzi N V J Tessa The Absolute Solver Big D Rocky Rickaby Pomni Caine Jax Gangle Kinger Skibidi Toilet Kid Vampire Bubby Tina Nabiu King Kong The Seven Dwarfs Snow White Godzilla Mothra Bilbo Baggins Frodo Baggins Aragorn Legolas Gimli Gandalf Gollum Sauron Mary Poppins Gomez Adams Luke Skywalker Darth Vader Jar Jar Binks Indiana Jones James Bond E.T Terminator Aladdin Genie Jafar Jack Skellington Woody Buzz Lightyear Jessie Emperor Zurg Harry Potter Ron Weasley Hermione Granger Dumbledore Voldemort Neo Iron Giant Ginger Mrs. Tweedy Shrek Donkey Fiona Puss In Boots Fairy Godmother Lord Farquaad Coraline Other Mother Wall-E Eve Gru Margo Edith Agnes Dr. Nefario Mr. Incredible Katniss Peeta Fred Flintstone Barney Rubble The Doctor Rose Tyler Ruby Sunday Amy Pond River Song Captain Jack Harkniss Kate Lethbridge-Stewart Weeping Angel Cyberman Dalek Sek Davros The Master Tinky Winky Dipsy Laa-Laa Po Red Ranger Count Olaf Arthur Dent Ford Prefect Zaphod Beeblebrox Slartibartfast Marvin The Robot Walter White Jesse Pinkman Saul Goodman Alison Cooper Mike Thomas Julian Pat Captain Omniman Mr. Strong

[alanianatkinson]

KEEP ON LOVING YOU

Alan Ian Atkinson reflects on a productive Sunday, enjoying REO Speedwagon's "KEEP ON LOVING YOU" while working on an article. He recalls a previous essay about colorful Christmas tree lights and his daughter's swimming achievements, while humorously...

While I am working on my latest article, REO Speedwagon is entertaining me with what I consider one of their best songs that they have ever produced. “KEEP ON LOVING YOU” Iconic! The music is coming from our little Google Home Mini. I was reading an article I wrote, “Side-Tracked An Essay” (1) which coincidentally was written on a Sunday, too; as today is a Sunday. It was also written around the…

[brn1029]

Time for your Rock Report

Milwaukee's Summerfest has revealed a star-studded lineup for this year's edition, including headliners Maroon 5, Lil Uzi Vert, and Keith Urban. The annual event takes place over three weekends with totally different lineups. Summerfest is scheduled for June 20 through 22, June 27 through 29, and July 4 through 6. Opening weekend will feature Kane Brown, Motley Crue, and a still-unannounced headliner. Other performers include Goo Goo Dolls, Black Pumas, Brittany Howard, Taking Back Sunday, En Vogue, Dawes, O.A.R., Three Dog Night, The War and Treaty, Jamila Woods, Umphrey's McGee, Chelsea Cutler, Seether, Buckcherry, Kameron Marlowe, and Nightly.

Urban will headline weekend two, alongside Tyler Childers and Illenium. Supporting performances include NeedToBreathe, Muna, Fletcher, Key Glock, Sleater-Kinney, S.G. Goodman, Adeem the Artist, REO Speedwagon, and several others.

Joni Mitchell's catalog has been restored to the Spotify streaming services, more than two years after the singer pulled her music from the platform. Mitchell had pulled her catalog from the streaming service in early 2022, in solidarity with Neil Young, citing concerns about the misinformation that was being spread about COVID-19 and the vaccine on Spotify's "The Joe Rogan Experience" podcast. "I've decided to remove all my music from Spotify. Irresponsible people are spreading lies that are costing people their lives. I stand in solidarity with Neil Young and the global scientific and medical communities on this issue," Mitchell posted on her official website at the time.

Young recently returned his music to Spotify after the end of Rogan's exclusivity deal with the streaming service

[moontidecanvas]

move out the way energy sword sunday... it’s now speedwagon sunday!!!!!

[puppetbilly]

this was a big jonawagon thing for june but i spent too long on it and just finished speedwagon and decided to post what i had and be done

[abbacchiosbelt]

🎩 🌶 Speeb for the text thing? 👉👈

[comradedoug]