#thank ya nancy i think i forgot to say that above

[britneyshakespeare]

tagged by @pavlovers to do the 10 songs im currently obsessed with thing. this is kinda weird bc ive mostly been listening to poetry and two public domain audiobooks on spotify in the past like... two weeks (but sense and sensibility and the picture of dorian gray are still excellent so there’s that) and i’ve not been listening to as much music so... here we go. without further ado.

out of time - the rolling stones i have this eerie feeling i’ve done this song for one of these tag things before? or at least that i’ve talked about it before. i don’t know, i searched it on my blog and found nothing, but this has always been one of my favorite mid-60s brian jones stones songs. i can even get with the sardonic, cruel lyrics which in most cases just make me kinda irritated with mick jagger. they at least have a sense of cleverness in this case that tends to be lacking in other chrissie shrimpton-inspired songs like under my thumb and stupid girl.

somebody to love - queen okay so i saw bohemian rhapsody last sunday and i... loved it. reawakened all my love for queen that never really sleeps anyway. but freddie mercury really was just... so distinguished. and this is a pretty basic favorite queen song to have, and to be perfectly curt, i don’t think i even have a favorite queen song. their whole discography is too unique to really weigh against itself like with other bands. but of all the big queen songs that you tend to hear everywhere, this is the one that gets the most out of me, most consistently. as much as i also love killer queen and bohemian rhapsody and good old-fashion loverboy and all them.

quiero del fruto prohibido - stephanie salas while looking for more spanish-language music to listen to recently i found stephanie salas, and i haven’t gotten that deep into her discography yet, beyond just her 2006 album tuna, but i really love it and i’ve gone through it a couple of times. it reminds me a lot of return of saturn by no doubt, which is by a long shot my favorite gwen stefani-penned album. in both sound and attitude. and i always love discovering new music that sounds like old gwen stefani.

consequences - camila cabello (orchestral version) i really didn’t expect this from camila, even with as soulful as she’s been trying to sound since beginning her solo career. this was just so beautiful, and though i wouldn’t say the lyrics on this song are that impressive (she’s clearly still an amateur songwriter who’s yet to grow into herself), the new instrumental here really accentuates the best in it. this version is far better than it has any right to be.

paco paco paco - encarnita polo also found this while looking for 60s spanish pop songs on allmusic.com. i haven’t found much substantial information on the singer of this catchy little track yet, but it sure is pretty frickin cute, and doesn’t get annoying when it gets stuck in my head. suits all my girly vintage pop-rock needs, which we all know is my weakness.

by myself - cécile mclorin salvant discovered her new album the window on allmusic.com a few weeks ago (wow i’m really discussing a lot of allmusic.com on here... i don’t even use that site that much it’s just my main resource for discovering new shit bc i’m so out of touch w trends nowadays) and even though it’s all covers of decades-old songs... she’s really got the voice and the instrumentals backing her up to make them her own. a wonderful style. and this song in specific inspired me to make an aro jazz playlist, so there’s also that.

in india you - brian jonestown massacre i’ve yet to really dig into the discography of this band, but i’ve been meaning to for awhile. this is my favorite song from them so far, or at least the one that sticks out the most of those i’ve listened to. trippy and psychedelic and surreal and exquisite. does a lot of respect to their namesake of course... the 1978 jonestown massacre.

effeuille-moi le coeur - francoise hardy i’ve always loved the melody of this song ridiculously and as i’ve been trying to learn french, i’ve been using this songs as one of my audio samples, particularly bc i haven’t been able to find any detailed translations of it into english like you can with bigger francoise songs like tous les garcons and whatnot. so i’ve just been learning it piece by piece, because the language isn’t that out-of-reach to me. and i certainly love it more for that. :-)

thriller - fall out boy mandatory potentially embarrassing middle school song here. i haven’t been on a fob kick recently or anything, for some reason this song has just been popping into my head on and off recently. don’t really know why. but the lyrics of it always really stuck with me, especially in the chorus. still a good song that holds up.

the spinning wheel - delia murphy one of my favorite versions of one of my favorite traditional folk songs. there’s not really much i can say about it, other than that it just feels like an old comfort to me. and if anything, the antiquity of the recording and less-than-stellar sound quality of its being so old is a charm to me. i just feel so melancholy and nostalgic listening to it. a wonderful song.

i don’t know what to do. i guess i’ll just tag a few @sneez @shecomesincolors @nospoonsgiven @r3nton @aliceic @bohemian-brian

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

WARNING ⚠️

Do not read if you haven’t watched WandaVison, while this isn’t fully cannon story based, it still has potential spoilers and just general references. Read at own risk!

Heavy angst, the loss of a parent, Tony Stark died ya’ll, alcoholism mentioned briefly, also disassociation is talked about and happens to reader so be warned, if you are struggling with mental illness and feel like this may trigger you then please do not read. Grief is a hard thing and this is going to be very heavy, I’ll try to make sure to include all warnings and triggers but please let me know if I forgot anything.

———

Prologue

The pain of losing a parent is one you were familiar with.

That ache of realising you’d never meet your mother was something that had slowly chipped away at you from the moment the first breath of life entered your lungs. Her name was Loren; a twenty something journalist Tony had met at one of his many parties. You had heard the same four or so stories growing up, Tony’s words slightly slurred as he giggled along to the same old jokes she told the night they met.

“I wasn’t looking to settle down, ya know?” He’d say, taking a final swig as the mood shifted. “But, my God. She made me wanna propose that night.”

You usually cut him off at that point, patting him on the back while trying to pry his hands off the coffee mug filled with scotch. It was hard to fully remember those days; each year making the memory foggy as he stayed sober. You didn’t miss the drinking but rather the stories they spilled from inside him.

Loren was his first love, Pepper was his second.

Loren was you mother, but Pepper was the closest thing to one you could get. She made sure to keep you fed during his long hours of work, tucked you in at night and told JARVIS to keep the star lights above you well lit. Pepper was a great mother, but she wasn’t yours.

Sometimes when you couldn’t fall asleep at night you’d imagine what Loren use to look like. Did she have your eyes? Did she like to read Nancy Drew before bedtime like you did? Did she have dreams of becoming some big star that knew everyone there was to know? Did she have stories tucked away of your father that only coffee mug scotch could reveal?

All these questions would swirl in your head before you were to too tired to keep asking them, the start of a new day washing them away from you completely. Death always had a way of avoiding sleepless questions. You only knew one thing for sure about your mother though.

You loved her, and my god, missed her.

But nothing could have prepared you for today.

The way your heart pulled and squeezed inside of your now hollow chest as your eyes stared below at a lake that had the last piece of Tony Stark floating on it. Nothing prepared you for the feeling of poisonous sadness that flowed through your veins as you held tightly onto a little girl’s hand that was now part of your family, already old enough to feel the full force of your father’s loss. It had been three days and you already felt strength drain from you.

It was all too much. Too unbearable. You didn’t move from standing on the dock, eyes glued to the slow moving water. It wasn’t until a tiny tug on your hand that you even realised you were still breathing.

“C’mon, Happy wants to see you.” Morgan’s small voice fills the silence.

‘That’s right,’ Your think as your eyes come back to focus. ‘I’m real. I’m not just staring at water, I’m at my father’s funeral. I wasn’t snapped out of existence again, I’m alive.’

You heard her say your name and are forced to float back to your body.

‘I can move... I should move.’ You pull from her grasp and turned toward her with a shaky smile.

“You go ahead.” You’re surprised when no tears drip down your cheeks. “I’ll be up in a minute.” Your eyes follow her up the stairs, vision glossy as Happy sits next to her on the porch swing. This cabin was not part of your story, the way Morgan floated around it with familiarity was something you simply would never relate to.

Pepper was Tony’s anchor, Morgan was hers and now yours was floating down a river.

———

Wanda watched in silence as the last of the guests fanned out from the lawn. She felt the familiar tug of pain in her chest as she took small steps toward the two girls on the dock. That look on your face was one she saw in the mirror more times then she would like to admit. As she watched the youngest Stark fall onto the porch swing with a small giggle, her mind snapped back into focus.

This was her only chance.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Wanda’s voice was steady, a stark contrast from the tears that fell onto her cheeks. You bite back a bitter scoff and choose to simply nod. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t anyone’s and yet that was the hardest part. Your father chose to die, chose it. How was that ever going to not hurt? “I know what it’s like to lose someone and even though your father and I had... a strange past.” She put a gentle hand on your forearm. “I know in my heart he loved you.”

Your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day filled with tears as you finally looked into hers. Wanda gave a smile as she wrapped her arms around your shaking body and squeezed.

You finally broke.

Wanda was someone you had only spoken to in passing; watching as she tried to crash your father in cars once during the airport fight. You never blamed her for it though, knowing that it was never an intention to truely hurt him. She was barley less then a stranger and yet here she was, letting you sob in her arms as she whispered comforting words in a language you didn’t understand. In that briefest of moments, she was the closest thing to a anchor you had.

For a moment the wave of grief had settled in your body. For a moment, you felt like you could live without him.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled by her cardigan, tears finally drying on puffy cheeks as you sniffled. “Thank you.” She moved back and let her hands rest on your shoulders.

“That feeling.” She said with a comforting smile. “That feeling of relief is something that needs to be treasured in times like these.” You tried not to let your confusion show as she moved her hands up to your cheeks. “I can help you.”

“How?” Your eyes widened as you felt a low pulsing float from your neck up to above your ears as she smiled once more.

“But first-“ You were forced to watch in silent horror as her eyes glowed a a deep red. “You need to help me.”

[maxhoemo]

1923 - That Evening

Max was smiling so wide, his face was starting to hurt. It was actually quite uncomfortable but there was nothing he could do about it. One of Ian’s staff had rushed to help Max carry his bags when he came through the door. Max felt like a total gold digger, but he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest. “You really didn’t have to carry all of that for me...” Max told the man as they arrived at Ian’s bedroom door.

“It’s what I’m paid for, Sir,” he answered simply. 

Once he’d left, Max collapsed on the bed, looking out at the sea of purchases. And he still had money left over! Being a gold digger was the bees knees! Speaking of which, Max decided to unpack his new things. He didn’t even remember everything he bought. It had been a bit of a frenzy. 

Max had never been shopping at a department store before. When he has first stepped inside, it was overwhelming. Just like seeing Ian’s house for the first time, he didn’t know where to look first. It must have been pretty obvious that he was lost because a salesgirl approached him almost immediately and asked if he needed help with anything. He was far too embarrassed to admit the truth.  

The men’s department only made him confused. The sales people were quick to show him all kinds of suites and vests... Max had even tried one on. ‘Ugh!’ he thought. ‘I look like Ian!’. Not to mention he could feel himself begin to sweat almost immediately. No. He’d just kindly asked where he could find the flannel and denim. Much more him. Speaking of which, Max had completely forgotten he’d actually bought a shirt in every colour. 

The next thing he took from the bag was his new coat. He pressed it up to his face. Pure white mink. The warmest thing he’d ever touched! He continued unpacking. There was a lot. Cigarettes, cologne, shoes... The next thing though...Wow, he’d actually bought this, huh? He laughed to himself. It was so ridiculous! But he wanted it! It just felt so... Luxurious. 

It was a bathrobe. Chinese silk. Black with a big peacock embroidered on the back. He loved the way it felt against his skin. He hadn’t got to try it on, but... No time like the present. He slipped out of his clothes and threw the robe over himself. He loved the way it trailed behind him. Like a King in one of his old storybooks. The sleeves and bottom lines with feathers. He did a twirl in the mirror. He nearly didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. Perfectly clean. Brand new frames and expensive clothes. Lounging clothes. Totally unsuitable for working. He grinned at his reflection. “Don’t you know who I am?” he asked himself, like a child playing pretend. “Chippy? Nancy-Boy? You must have me confused with someone else. I don’t need your cheddar!” he scoffed. “Busboy!? Me?” 

He opened the robe up, one sleeve slipping down his shoulder. He didn’t even mind how thin he looked. He looked good, if he didn’t say so himself. Though as luck would have it, just as he was admiring himself he heard a soft chuckle behind him. His face turned red. How much had Ian seen...? 

“Maxy, yer’ so cute...” Max turned towards Ian but didn’t say anything. “Can I see what you bought?” he asked, reaching for one of the bags. Max nodded, plopping down on the edge of the bed. Most of what Ian went though was what he’d expected. New clothes. Couple of little things here and there. “Oh. This one’s heavy...”

Max laughed to himself. “Oh yeah... I know what that is...”

Ian pulled it out, it was a case of cream sodas. He smiled at Max. He really was adorable. 

“They’re my favourite...” he admitted.

“You know, I’ve got a cooler in the kitchen. You can have it. Just ask the gal to bring it up for ya’.”

“Thanks...” Max answered, biting on the edge of his thumb.

Ian continued to pull out some more clothes, a box of chocolates, a few decorative items... “Is that really all ya’ got?” he asked when he was finished.

“All?” Max questioned. “I could hardly take it all home.”

“Next time then, I’ll take ya’ in the car. If that’s all good with you.”

“Of course.” It was Ian’s money after all. And wasn’t the whole point of him being here to keep Ian company? He hadn’t really done much of that yet, had he?

“I’ve got some work to do downstairs,” Ian announced, standing to make his exit. 

“But Ian, I’m hungry.”

“I’ll have em’ bring ya’ something. What would ya’ like?”

“Uhh...” This whole whatever he wanted thing was kind of a lot of pressure. “What about... Mashed potatoes and gravy?”

Ian gave him a warm half-smile. “Done deal.”

As Max was putting his things away, he realized he had completely forgot to call his family like he promised. 

He grabbed Ian’s phone and dialed the bar. It was one of those fancy ones with the ear and mouthpiece attached. “It’s Max....” Max’s entire family crowded around the phone to talk to him. He didn’t tell them about the shopping trip. He couldn’t. He felt too bad. 

By the time the call was over, he had severe hunger pains. Ian probably forgot with whatever work he was doing. With a shrug, Max decided to venture downstairs himself. Not that he knew where the kitchen was. Or where Ian would be working. He wandered down one of the halls, light on his feet, but steady in his walk. Out of curiosity, he creaked open a large oak door. It smelled heavily  like cigar smoke, but nobody was inside at the moment. A billiards room. He thought about stepping inside to explore further, but something stopped him. It just didn’t feel right. He smiled to himself, leaning his head against the edge of the door frame. They used to have a pool table in the pub. They had to get rid of it though, when people started catching on that his sister was fixing games. 

“What is this?”

Max jumped. He didn’t recognize the voice. He turned and saw two men standing behind him. “I’m sorry... I didn’t realize Ian had company...” Oh God! This was humiliating! He was still dressed in the stupid silk robe! He pulled the fabric over his chest and tightened the tie. 

One of them laughed. The other said “You talk funny.”

“Huh?”

“Who the hell is Een?” the other chuckled.

Oh. His accent. Normally Max would have chewed them out. But right now he just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.He did his best to slip past them, not really paying attention to which direction he was headed. 

“Hey, don’t walk away!” Max was yanked backward by the arm. The guy’s tone was still sickeningly joyous. 

“Aye!” Max shouted. “Don’t touch me!” He tried to pull out of his grip, but his socked feet just slipped uselessly on the hardwood floor. Both the goons seemed to find this endlessly amusing. Max gave up on that plan, instead trying to pull down. That didn’t work either. Now he was just sitting on his ass, his arms held above him in a tight grip. “What do you want, cunt!?” Max demanded.

“Shit, what a mouth on this faggot,” said the guy behind him.

“We just wanna screw with ya’ a little.”

“Leave me alone!” he shrieked. He was yanked to his feet so fast he thought for a second his arm would pop clean off his body. 

“Sal told me about this kid...” The shorter guy said. “...He’s the hooker from the Aussie bar.”

“I delivered their yesterday.” The taller guy with Max in his grip remarked casually. He pulled Max against his chest. “Does your daddy know you’re a whore?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“What the hell is going on here!?” Ian.

“They’re hurting me!” Before Max could say another word, he was free and Ian had Tall Guy pinned to the wall. “We were just tryin’ to scare him a little.”

Ian shook his head. “No. Not him. Clear!?” They both nodded. “Apologize to him.”

“I’m... I’m sorry...”

“Good.” Ian let go of the guy. “Now. Kiss his feet.” The guy hesitated, obviously not thinking Ian was serious. “Do it.” Ian stated simply, and the man complied.

Max was shocked watching the guy get on the ground in front of him. Actually making a move for his feet. “No...” Max protested, taking a few steps back.

“Okay, get up. Now both of you scram.” And of course, they did. “Max. I told you to stay in your room.”

“I’m sorry...” Max said quietly. “I was hungry and I wanted the ice and I didn’t know you had people over and...”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright. I aint mad or nothing. Just go up to your room and stay there, alright? Don’t worry. I’ll make an example out of those two.”

Max nodded. His stomach felt sick. He was still shaken from the assault, but Ian had saved him. Ian must really care. But Ian was going to kill them...Max didn’t know what to feel.