#i got the signed record and signed cd

[florencesewardsashtray]

T minus 50 minutes until Patti does Songs from a Hat and I black out in my seat for a solid 90 minutes

[born-to-lose]

RECORD STORE HAUL I AM WINNING AT LIFE

[cd-each-day]

༄ nelly : nellyville (2002)

༄ from : vinnies

[dodger-chan]

Inspired by this post by @0nemorestranger Hopefully close enough to what you had in mind

Edit: now on AO3

Lost Media

Steve didn’t realize he’d been humming along to anything until the music cut off suddenly and looped around to start over. The opening riff played for about three seconds before it cut off again.

“Wait, who’s humming?” The question came from one of Steve’s younger co-workers. A part-timer working his way through college. Steve couldn’t remember his name.

“Uh, that was me. Sorry,” he tacked on the apology as an afterthought.

“You know that song?” the kid asked. He sounded like Dustin.

“It’s called Plane of Shadows. I think it’s a DnD reference,” Steve answered. “Band’s Corroded Coffin. Haven’t heard them in years.”

That wasn’t strictly true. Every once in a while, Steve would play the tape he still had. Think about that one summer he’d spent as an unpaid, unofficial roadie. Daydream about what could have happened if he’d known himself a little better back then.

Not too often. Steve wasn’t that much of a loser.

The kid came over and plopped down in Robin’s empty chair. She was out sick today, getting over the flu Steve had picked up last week.

“It is. A DnD reference, I mean,” the kid said. Steve probably needed a better thing to call him; he was probably Erica’s age. “Shit, one of my friends posted that clip to this metal bulletin board. We've been trying to identify it forever. How do you know it?”

“They’re from the same small town I am. We all went to highschool together.” Not that Steve had known their music in highschool. “I don’t think they ended up with a record deal, but they did have an EP they used to sell at concerts. I can bring it tomorrow if you want.”

*********

Steve brought the tape, along with the souvenirs he’d saved from that summer. A couple of photocopied flyers. An ad clipped from a local Bloomington paper for a concert. A wristband from a bar that had marked him as too young to drink. Also his Walkman. Steve wasn’t sure if kids still had cassette players now that CDs were everywhere.

“This is so cool,” the kid - Brian, apparently - gushed when Steve handed him the shoebox he’d brought it all in at lunch. “Is it alright if I scan these? And can I borrow this tape? I want to digitize it and share the full song with the board.”

“You can do that?” Steve really needed to learn more about computers. Just not from Dustin who couldn’t teach anything without turning into a condescending asshole.

“Yeah, just record from the Walkman like it’s a mic. I’ll burn you a copy of the whole EP. That way you won’t have to worry about wearing out your tape,” Brian offered. “I would never have guessed you were such a metal fan.”

“I’m not, really,” Steve admitted. Brian blinked at him, surprised. And, well, it wasn’t the eighties anymore, and they weren’t still living in Hawkins. “Massive crush on the lead guitarist.”

“Oh, uh, thanks for telling me.” Brian leaned over and patted Steve’s shoulder. “So you and Robin aren’t-”

“Strictly platonic.” Maybe Robin was right and they should get signs for their desks.

*********

It was nearly a month later when Brian grabbed Steve at the water cooler and dragged him over to his desk, saying “You’ve got to see this.”

This was a post on the Brian’s metal bulletin board:

Crazy to hear from a buddy that our old band is a minor Internet sensation. Thanks, all. If you guys had been around back in the day we might have managed a full album. Or maybe not. Gareth’s parents would have killed him if he dropped out and Jeff actually wanted to go to college, so maybe we still would have broken up in ‘87. Regardless, we’re all thrilled our music is bringing joy to today’s metal heads. As the primary songwriter, and with the agreement of the rest of the band, I grant permission to upload and download the entire EP. We think any money we might potentially have made on it is worth less to us than the value of preserving what could have been lost media. Just make sure to credit us if your garage band turns one of our songs into a hit. Anyway, if you guys have any questions about Corroded Coffin, or the songs, reply to this post and I’ll do my best to answer in a timely fashion. Aside to OP: Is your preppy co-worker who had all our stuff a handsome former jock with spectacular hair? Because I’d love to get back in touch with our old roadie. -EM

“Oh my god,” Robin squealed, leaning over Steve’s shoulder as he read. “Please, you have to give Eddie Steve’s email. Or get Eddie’s email to give to Steve. Or both. Both would be best. That way at least one of them will have the balls to reach out first.”

“Eddie’s already reaching out,” Steve said. “And I thought you said it was anti-femminist to use testicles as a proxy for courage.”

“Stop quoting me when I’m being right, Steven.”

“So I should get his contact info for you?” Brian asked.

Steve hesitated. Real life was not some romantic comedy where attraction was always mutual and true love overcame all obstacles in the end. But it wasn’t like he’d spend the last decade pining. Even if it was nothing more than getting a friend back, it would be good to get in touch with Eddie again.

“Sure,” Steve answered. “Why not?”

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 5 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, fingering, protected p-in-v, semi-public sex, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 3.6k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 5

You don’t see Steve for three days following the… incident. You had bolted as as soon as you were out of his sight, showering immediately when you got home. Maybe, just maybe, you could wash the self-disgust away. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You let the hot water wash over your skin, trying to forget the way his fingers felt, how he sounded, how he tasted. 

You don’t tell anyone, not even Nancy when she comes home later that day. You keep to yourself, burying yourself in schoolwork. You avoid the station until your show on Thursday. You know that there’s a chance you might see him - he’s often hanging around in the recording studio, working on music. If you’re lucky, he’ll stay in there, and not wander into the lounge, or worse, the on-air studio while you’re mid-show.

Upon entering the station, you make a beeline for the radio booth, keeping your head down. You see a group hanging out in the lounge out of the corner of your eye, as always. And, as always, everyone is vying for your attention. You’re barely in the booth before people are hounding you with questions, or complaints, or forms to sign.

As you’re finally alone, lining up your records and CDs, you hear a gentle knock on from behind you.

“Yeah?” 

You turn to see Eddie, bracing himself on the doorframe as he leans in.

“Hey - can I talk to you for a second?”

You gesture him in, half-occupied with setting up for your show.

“What’s up?”

He sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk. 

“I need a favor.”

You stop, and turn to properly look at him, eyes narrowing. Eddie looks…apprehensive. Maybe even nervous - it’s not like him.

“What is it?”

He stares at you for a moment, hesitating.

“Please, spit it out, don’t leave me hanging -”

“- I need you to talk to Steve for me.”

You freeze, and turn back to organizing the pile of records on the desk.

“Why?” you ask, feigning nonchalance.

“He’s hogging the recording studio - he’s always in there, and we need it. We’ve got a bunch of new shit, and people have been asking if we have CDs at our shows.”

“Remember me when you’re famous,” you joke.

“I’m serious. How is he able to get away with booking it so often? I feel like he’s always in there -”

“I don’t know, probably abusing his power,” you mumble - you’re mostly being sarcastic, but a small part of you thinks it may be true.

“Well, I need you to get him out.”

You sigh, meeting his eyes again. “Why can’t you just talk to him?”

“I’ve tried - he just said to go to you and fill out the form to book it, or whatever.”

“Why don’t you just do that?”

“Have you looked at the schedule lately? Unless I want to bring the guys in and record at 3am -”

“Like you haven’t done that before -”

“Please?” he asks, his brown eyes doe-like, pleading in the way that never fails to work on, well, everybody.

You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine! Fine - stop looking at me like that. Is he there now?”

“Yeah, and the entire fuckin’ forseeable future, apparently.”

“Alright - I’ll do my show, and go find him after, alright?”

Eddie grins, and you know you’ve lost.

“Thanks - you’re the best -”

“Yeah, yeah - you owe me one.”

“You got it,” he calls over his shoulder, and then he’s gone.

You spend the next two hours trying to not stress about seeing Steve again. You’re able to concentrate on your show, for the most part, despite uncharacteristically stumbling over some of your words as you read of the obligatory list of local concerts in the middle of your rotation.

Soon enough though, you’re ending the show and turning off the mic, the On-Air light dimming as you leave the room. It’s late, the station basically empty now. It’s usually around this time that people clear out, busy with club meetings, parties, homework, or whatever else. It’s where you should be, too. But, you made Eddie a promise.

It’s hard to know for sure if someone is in the recording studio until you get close to it - the soundproofing is decent enough that you can’t hear any noise happening inside until you’re practically pressed against the door. The only giveaway that it’s occupied is the glow of the light right above the door, marked with “Recording” in neon red lettering. You pause outside of the door - you hear the faintest sound of a guitar, and a voice singing - definitely his. After a moment of debating what to do, you knock on the door. No response. You knock a little louder - still nothing.

You pull the ring of station keys out of your pocket, fiddling with them for a moment. Maybe now isn’t a good time - you could always try and talk to him about this at the next meeting, or if you happen to run into him. The thought is only fleeting, though - he is acting entitled, like he owns the studio. You think about Eddie’s face when he asked you, and suddenly you’re pissed off - Steve Harrington doesn’t get to take up more space than anyone else, not if you had anything to say about it. So, without any more thought, you’re unlocking the door, barging into the recording studio.

His back is turned to you, sitting on a stool with a guitar in his hand - he wears headphones, and it suddenly makes sense why he didn’t open the door. He clearly still doesn’t know you’re here, too lost in what he’s doing. Whatever he’s playing - it actually sounds nice. It’s an acoustic guitar, and what he’s playing is a lot softer, gentler, than anything he played at his show. But you don’t let yourself get distracted, you can’t. 

Instead, you take a deep breath, and tap him on the shoulder. He almost jumps out of his skin, the guitar slipping in his hands as he whips around.

“What the fu-”

Then he registers exactly who is standing in front of him. For a moment, his eyes widen, and then they almost roll to the back of his head. He fumbles to pull the headphones off.

“Really, princess?”

You cross your arms. “I need you to stop hogging the studio,” you say bluntly.

“What about hi, how are you -”

You sigh. “I don’t have time for bullshit, Harrington. People are compaining that you’re always in here.”

“Are people Eddie Munson.”

“I - it doesn’t matter -”

“Ah - so it is,” he says, pulling the headphones off from where they rest around his neck, hanging them on the mic stand, more gently than you’d expect.

“Does it matter? Anyone in this station has as much of a right to this studio as you.”

“Right - I’m sure. Let me guess, Eddie gave you his big ol’ Bambi eyes, and you folded.”

“That’s not -”

“I honestly think it’s pathetic that your little boyfriend sent you here to come talk to me -”

You scoff. “He’s not my - Eddie and I have never -”

“Never what?” he asks, standing abruptly. “Never done what we did?”

You feel your face heat. “I’m not here to talk about that -”

“Oh, you hoped I’d just forget?”

“No - of course not - I just -”

“Just what?” he asks, taking a step closer.

“I’m not here to talk about that.”

He just smirks, in his signature way that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“Sure you’re not, sweetheart.”

“I’m only here because Eddie already came to you, and you sent him right to me -”

You stop, cutting yourself off. Suddenly, you feel idiotic for not making the connection sooner. You meet Steve’s eyes again, and he looks so smug that you swear you’re capable of killing him where he stands.

“Oh my god - did you do that to make me come and talk to you?”

Steve clasps his hands over his chest, feigning offense, but the devilish glint in his eye gives him away.

“Does that sound like something I’d do, sweetheart?”

“Do you get off on pissing me off? Huh?”

He just chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“I don’t even have to try that hard, and you get riled up so easily.”

“So? I - what even - it doesn’t matter -”

He takes another step closer, the already-small room feeling suffocating.

“You’re not mad at me, not really - I don’t think you ever were -”

“I can’t believe this -”

“I think you’re just pissed at yourself - you’re attracted to me, and don’t know what to do with it.”

You feel your face burn, and shake your head.

“Never - I’m not -”

“You are, sweetheart - I haven’t forgotten how you begged me to touch you -”

“That was a mistake -” you insist, your back hitting the wall. He leans close, one hand coming up to press to the wall beside your head, caging you in. 

“If it was such a mistake, why haven’t you stormed out of here yet? I know how much you love to do that.”

You try to muster up a response, something clever, or at least intelligible. But, no words come.

“I don’t like you,” you insist.

“I know - I wasn’t talking about liking me. I’m talking about how I know turn you on.”

You can’t ignore the way your heart races, or how there’s a strange fluttering sensation in your stomach, threatening to move even lower.

You’re not sure who moves first - maybe you both get the same idea at the same time. But his lips are crashing into yours, and you don’t push him away.

He groans against your mouth, his tongue pressing against your lips. You oblige, giving him enough of an opening to slip his tongue in, and you moan, taking his face in your hands.

You hate to admit it, but you’re used to the way he kisses now, the way he tastes. You only reach up to run your fingers through his hair and tug because you know he likes it - the guttural groan that escapes him only confirms it. He tries to pull away, and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. He gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you him go.

“Careful -”

You smirk. “Or what?”

His chest is heaving, and he’s not subtle about the way he looks you up and down.

“Anybody else in the station?”

You shake your head. “Nobody could hear us in here, even if they were.”

That’s all he needs to hear, and he’s on you again, his thigh coming up between yours as he presses you against the wall. You whine, involuntarily grinding on it as his lips find your neck.

“So fuckin’ needy -” he whispers, sucking the skin hard enough that you know it will probably bruise.

“Don’t you dare mark me up -”

“Too late -” he says, and you can feel how he smiles against your neck.

You huff, and in retaliation, reach down to grasp at the noticeable bulge straining against his jeans. He groans, shuddering.

“You’re evil -”

“I know,” you reply, unable to hide your smile as he meets your eyes again.

“I wanna touch you again -” he admits - his lips are swollen from yours, his breathing labored. You nod, not even bothering with even pretending you don’t want it, not this time.

Then you’re in his arms, and he’s surprisingly strong as he lowers you onto the floor. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the stool, laying it down beneath you.

“Really?” you ask.

“You want rugburn?”

You roll your eyes, letting him crawl above you, pressing you to the floor as he kisses you again. You don’t even try to protest as he reached down to unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips to let him pull them down as you kick off your shoes.

His lips are still on your neck as his fingers slip beneath the cotton of your underwear, only ghosting along your slit, a sharp intake of breath as he feels how wet you already are.

“So ready for me already, princess -”

“Shut up -”

He pulls back to look at you, grinning. “Make me.”

Your answer is your hands reaching between you to fumble as his belt, and his eyes widen.

“Whoa - wait -”

“What?”

“You’re sure?”

You honestly don’t know how to answer that - part of your brain still knows that this is a mistake, But, you’re wrecked with lust, with how good he looks right now, and how badly you’re aching for release from what’s building inside you.

“Ask me that tomorrow.”

It’s perhaps not what he wanted to hear, as disappointment flickers across his face. But it’s fleeting, and he just nods.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his fingers rubbing along your folds more earnestly now. You moan, head falling back as his thumb finds your clit. Encouraged, he slips a finger inside, then two.

“Suddenly so quiet - usually I can’t get you to shut up -” he murmurs.

“You’re so fucking annoying - oh, fuck -”

“Yeah, you liked that?” he asks, his fingers brushing along a spot deep inside you that makes your hips buck.

“You’re so full of it -”

“Right now, sweetheart, you’re full of me -”

You want to slap him right across his handsome face, but instead you whine, feeling yourself clench around him.

He touches you just like he did in your office, remembering what you like, what makes your back arch and thighs shake. You grip his shoulders, searching for anything to cling to as he coaxes whines and gasps of pleasure out of you. You feel the familiar tug in your abdomen, clenching around his fingers, lazily pumping in and out of you. It’s too much, you’re so close, ready to explode -

Then, it stops. He stops his ministrations suddenly, his fingers withdrawing. Your eyes fly open, and you look up at him, chest heaving.

“What the fuck -”

“Problem, sweetheart?”

“I was close -”

“I know - but I don’t want this to be over, not yet.”

You can’t help but bite your lip, suppressing a smile.

“You’re worried about coming in your pants again, aren’t you?” 

It’s his turn to be embarrassed, his face tinged with pink as he avoids your gaze.

“No - I -”

“Oh, Harrington -”

“Shut the fuck up -”

You sigh, resting on your elbows as you sit up a bit.

“I mean - I can -”

“I’ve got a condom in my wallet,” he says quickly. You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

“Sorry - forget I said anything, I shouldn’t have -”

“Go get it,” you say quickly. He freezes, eyes widening. His mouth hangs open a bit, seemingly like he didn’t exactly hear you.

“Trying to catch flies, Harrington?”

He snaps out of it, shaking his head. 

“Just shut up, I’ll get it -”

You watch as he spins around, still on his knees as he pulls the wallter out of his back pocket. His hands are noticeably shaking as he rifles through it, pulling out the foil packet. You realize - he’s nervous. You didn’t even think he was capable of that. 

His belt is already unbuckled thanks to you, and he hurriedly unzips his jeans. You lay back, watching with curiosity as he undresses, the tent in his boxers leaving little to the imagination.

He catches your gaze, and smirks. “See something you like, sweetheart.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington -”

He can’t help but laugh, even as he’s removing the last piece of clothing from his lower half. It’s your turn to be at a loss for words, your eyes widening. You can’t even stop yourself, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He’s practically beaming now. “Like what you see?”

You meet his eyes again, regaining some composure.

“I can work with that.”

It all happens quickly after that - he’s rolling the latex over himself, and coming back over you again. He pushes your legs apart gently, both of you still half-dresses under the fluorescent lights of the studio - all logic is telling you this is wrong, that you could get caught, that you’ll regret this tomorrow. But all of those thoughts dissipate as he pushes against your entrance, and oh.

He groans into your neck as he pushes inside. It’s a stretch for you, the breath knocked out of you as you take him. You both don’t bother with taking your time, not now. You’re still so worked up from how he touched you earlier, and from the moment he starts to thrust, you’re done for.

It’s all a mess of desperate moans and grunts, his hips slapping against yours. You can’t help how you cry out, and he can’t help how he groans your name as you envelop him. You fist your hands in his t-shirt, the soundproofed room absorbing any dirty things said as his cock slides between your walls.

His kisses you again, sloppily, and you graze your teeth along his lower lip again. His shuddering groan is enough to give him away, and you laugh.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Maybe - don’t bite too hard -”

You clench around him on purpose then, and his hips stutter.

“Fuck - don’t do that -”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll be done in a second, and I’m not gonna bother finishing you off -”

“Fat chance, Harrington - oh, god - not letting you leave here until I cum -”

He chuckles against your neck.

“So bossy, princess -”

But you can tell he loves it, especially as he picks up the pace, gripping your thighs. He looks down at where you’re joined, the way you’re sucking him in, and his eyes flutter shut - he’s so gone. 

“Fuck - takin’ me so well -”

“Oh my god - shit - Steve -”

He groans, and nods.

“I know - I know - you close, sweetheart? Please -”

“Yeah - almost - harder -”

He obeys, thrusting into you more roughly, and you cry out in pleasure.

“Good girl - touch yourself -” he demands, his hips losing their rhythm a bit. “Show your clit some love for me - c’mon -”

You can tell from his labored breathing, by the way his fingers are gripping the soft skin of your thighs enough to bruise - he’s close. So, you do as he says, your hand snaking down between the two of you, biting your lip as you find your bundle of nerves. You hate how easily you’re doing what he asks, but it’s like a jolt of electricity is sent through you. You’re pulsing as his hard length slides in and out, coated in your slick, and it’s too much for you to take.

“M’gonna cum,” you breathe, legs shaking. “Steve -”

“I know - want you to let go - princess -”

You shatter, a scream erupting from you as your orgasm washes over you. Your body stiffens, back arching in pleasure as you flutter around him. You can’t think straight, not as he’s groaning like that, your name on his lips like a prayer as his hips stutter, then still.

He almost collapse on top of you, bracing himself with his forearm so he doesn’t crush you. For a moment, the only sound is your heavy breathing, his heart pounding against yours. He pulls back after a moment, meeting your eyes. He’s a wreck, his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his face flushed and eyelids heavy. It’s like reality hits you both at the same time, and he’s slipping out of you. You sit up quickly, avoiding his gaze as you pull your panties back on.

It’s quiet for another moment, then he’s clearing his throat.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he says, addressing your fears before you can even voice them.

You nod curtly, suddenly much shyer than just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah - good idea.”

You feel him staring at you, and you just grab your jeans, standing to pull them back on.

“Give Eddie some studio space - you’re not allowed to use it more than 6 hours a week.”

He scoffs, and just stares at the floor as he nods.

“Fine - fine. Anything for Eddie, right?” he says bitterly. You look down at him, and sigh.

“I’m not fucking Eddie - and it’s none of your business if I am. Surrender the studio space - please.”

“I will, okay?”

You nod, jaw set tightly. “Thanks, Harrington.”

He meets your eyes for a moment, and shakes his head.

“What now?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Back to Harrington, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

He stares at you for a moment, and he almost looks truly angry.

“You called me Steve - while we were - don’t think you’ve ever done that before.”

You think for a moment, and remember, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Right - I was just - heat of the moment -”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says dismissively.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” he says, standing abruptly as he pulls his own pants back on. “See you around, princess.”

That’s as close as he can get to saying get out, and you just nod, heading to the door. You pause, clutching onto the doorframe.

“Hey, Harrington?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna meet here, same time, tomorrow?”

His face curls into a smile, a real one, before he catches himself and smooths out his expression.

“Maybe, princess,” he says, shrugging.

You hold his gaze for a moment, and nod before slamming the door behind you - you don’t allow yourself to smile in return, not until you’re out of his sight, turning the corner and leaving him behind. You ignore the fact that, for once, the idea of seeing him again wasn’t awful.

You definitely don’t confront the fact that maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him. Not completely, at least.

author's note: hi everyone! I know it's been a while - enjoy this chapter! Full transparency, I am moving at the end of the month, so life has been pretty crazy. Once that's over, I'll be able to hopefully write/post more consistently! As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated - writers like me really appreciate those things, they go a long way! This story has been bouncing around in my head ever since I saw Djo last month, so I'm excited for what's coming in the next few chapters!

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Roxette - The Look 1989

"The Look" is a song by pop duo Roxette; Sweden's second-best-selling music act after ABBA. It was released in early 1989 as the fourth single from their second studio album, Look Sharp! (1988). The album was an immediate commercial success in their home country, spending seven weeks at number one on the Swedish Albums Chart. "The Look" was written by Per Gessle as an exercise while learning how to operate the Ensoniq ESQ-1 synthesizer he had recently purchased, using a repeated A–G–D bass line as the song's core. The track's sixteenth-note rhythm was inspired by the work of ZZ Top. The original title was "He's Got the Look", with the lyrics using male pronouns. Gessle said this was done because he initially wanted Marie Fredriksson to sing the track. Both he and EMI Sweden had chosen to highlight Fredriksson as Roxette's lead vocalist. However, when recording the demo, Gessle realised the song "didn't fit her style that well, so I had a go and it sounded OK."

The singles from Look Sharp! at the time were only released in Sweden, Germany and France. However, an American exchange student from Minnesota named Dean Cushman returned from Sweden and gave his copy of the album to his local Top 40 radio station, KDWB-FM in Minneapolis. The station's program director Brian Phillips initially ignored Cushman's request to play a song from the album, leaving the CD unplayed in his office for several weeks. Phillips eventually listened to it after learning Cushman had come to the office requesting the return of his CD. Immediately impressed by the album's opening track, "The Look" was played by the station for the first time on US radio less than an hour later, and the response from listeners was overwhelmingly positive; the station immediately began receiving phone calls to replay the track.

KDWB began distributing the track to their sister radio operations, sending 500 copies to other stations throughout the United States. EMI America promptly signed the duo to a recording contract as a result of the airplay. The label had previously rejected Roxette as "unsuitable for the American market". The song had already entered the top fifty of the Billboard Hot 100 before official promotion began, peaking at number one on the chart eight weeks later. This made "The Look" the third number one single by a Swedish act on the Billboard Hot 100, following Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling" (poll #152) in 1974 and ABBA's "Dancing Queen" in 1976.

The track went on to top the charts in 25 countries. It spent three weeks atop the New Zealand Singles Chart, and six weeks at number one in Australia, where it was certified platinum for sales in excess of 70,000 copies. It also topped the charts throughout Scandinavia. The song spent five weeks at number one in West Germany, and an additional five weeks at number two. It was a massive success in Spain and Switzerland, spending eight weeks at number one in both countries. It reached number seven on the UK Singles Chart.

"The Look" received a total of 80,5% yes votes!

[kamaluhkhan]

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[taylormarieee]

~A hunter's first love~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: You were dean's first love, yeah I know it's hard to believe with every girl he's been with but you... you were different from the rest, here's you guy's story...

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader

Warnings: kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, typical supernatural stuff, dean confessing, angst, a argument, dean being a bit of a jerk, a lil actual smut, piv sex, dean himself, trauma dumping, also reader isn't a hunter in the beginning but closer to the end she is.

A/N: I've been meaning to post this one for awhile but it's just been an idea in the back of my head. I NEED to write for dean more, and I swear I will, my word is my bond guys even tho sometimes i don't commit, ntm on me tho, love y'all and enjoy!

You were dean's very first love. Yea he had that chick in highschool but there were always chicks digging him in high school.

didn't mean he loved them. dean never did meeting parents and saying I love you. he was a cold kid that broke everything.

distanced himself from the people who needed him most. the exceptions were sammy and you.

something about you was special, something about you made dean's heart ache. it made him feel things that he usually would never feel.

he met you when sammy had went off to college to do his own thing. he was proud of sammy but he felt alone. yes of course he had his dad but there were nights where dad would always be gone and dean was left to handle himself.

but that was before you. during you, when he met you in the bar for the very first time, you looked like you were having a hellish day.

"bad day?" he asks as he slides into the barstool, drink in hand. you chuckle and look at him. your eyes widen a bit at how attractive he is.

"y-yea, s-something like that." you stutter as you take another sip of your brandy. after that you both kinda just hit it off.

laughing and having deep genuine conversations. he told you his name and you told him yours. he even offered you a ride back home to which you gladly accepted.

"thank you for the ride dean, I really appreciate it." you thank him and then get ready to walk up the stairs to your apartment but you pause.

"would you like to come inside? I just feel bad for making you take me home and then not offering you anything to sober you up a little. just come inside, please?" you ask.

he smiles and nods. "yea yea sure, i'd love to come inside." he says with a smirk on his face when he stands next to you.

"must you ruin the moment?" you hit him playfully as you chuckle.

"hell yea!" he exclaims with a chuckle as well. you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. it's not the best but it's enough for you and it was simple and modern and you loved it.

dean seemed to have loved it too, to him though, it was very old-schooled. very 90's. you had these cute posters and paintings on walls. little records piled up on the coffee table.

it was adorable. it was very you. you had an electric guitar on a stand next to your tv in the living room and you had all your favorite rock band cd's splayed everywhere on the couch.

"just gimme a sec, I didn't exactly expect company." you say shyly.

"oh no, your totally fine. I dig it. AC/DC? I love it." he says pointing at the band poster framed up on your wall.

"oh that's old, my dad gave it to me, I basically grew up listening to many rock bands. guns n roses, AC/DC, Metallica, yk the goodies." you smile up at dean.

"that poster was actually signed by the entire band when my dad got a backstage pass. He was so happy til the day he died." you say staring at the poster with a smile on your face.

"guessing he got the best day mug when you were a kid huh?" he says with a smile.

you laugh and shake your head. "yea actually, I did get him one for his birthday one year, he had the proudest smile ever when he saw Axl Rose's signature on it." you smile.

"wow, you were the best daughter." he exclaims.

"I mean I tried to be. my mom split when I was eight and that took a huge chunk outta my dad's heart. so I slowly had to rebuild it back again. I missed seeing him happy. It was just me n him, no point in trying to make life harder than it already was." you explain.

"Yea I get that. your better than me. see when I was little me, my mom, my dad? we were the happiest family. and then when my baby brother was born, I was so happy! but uhm a few months after he was born my uh my mom died. then it was just me my dad and sammy." he explains.

"that was hard for all of us. even harder for sammy considering he never even got to talk to his mother. my dad was hard on me and sammy growing up. I of course was always the lash out kid, constantly angry, never liking how he acted or did stuff. then of course that anger when out to sam because I couldn't yell at my dad, I was 10." he continues.

you hum to let him know your still listening and you grab him some water and prop it on the coffee table in front of you two.

"thanks. but yea, sammy never really understood why we always moved, never stayed in one place too long until he got tired of it. tired of that lifestyle. now he's in college and he's thriving, my dad on the other hand, he's avoiding me any chance he gets but hey, I would avoid me too if I was him. I break everything I touch." he finishes, taking a long gulp of his water.

you both sit in silence for a second and dean looks at you, hoping you say something other than "get out of my house."

"oh dean, I'm so sorry. no child should ever have to go through that. and I can assure you dean, you don't break everything you touch, I'm here and see! I'm not broken, i'm standing ten toes behind you." you says with a smile.

"I hunt monsters for a living with my dad. and we kill them so they can't ahrm people anymore." he blurted out randomly. he wanted to push you away, because he was falling in love with you too quickly. he wanted you to see him as scary.

your eyes widen. you pause. your hand is still on his arm and his thigh. you blink once, then twice. your jaw opens to say something but closes again.

"speak now, scream now, curse me out or forever hold your peace and i'll leave." he says.

you immediately spoke not wanting him to leave. "don't leave. I'm just a little shocked is all. do you and your dad really do that? does your brother know?" you ask.

"Why do you think he went off to college, to live a normal life like the rest of you." dean says.

"wow. uhm that's a lot to take in. thank you for telling me. there are parts of me that don't believe you, but i'm going to trust my heart. I believe you dean. you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, i'm a monster." he says.

"you save people dean, how is that you being a monster." you counter.

"because it's almost like i enjoy it, the thrill."

"ok but heros i'm sure enjoy the thrill as well."

"That's not the same thing sweetheart I-"

"Why can't you just accept that your not a monster."

"because I lived with this my whole life ok? I am a monster."

"ok, but you help people, how do monsters do that? how is that YOU being a monster?"

"Because I just am!" he shouts at you. you gasp and scoot away from him.

"oh, i'm sorry. I won't bring it up."

"for fuck's sake, I'm sorry sweetheart. I-I didn't mean to shout at you, i'm sorry. c'mere." he says.

you scoot back to him and he wraps your body in a hug.

"what are you so scared of dean? If your brother can live a normal life, why can't you? why do you think you don't deserve a happy ending?" you ask.

you look up at him with puppy dog eyes and he folds immediately. he kisses the top of your head and smiles down at you.

"you really think I'm a good person? you truly believe I could have a happy ending?'" he asks.

"If I didn't think so, would I have bickered with you about it like a toddler?" you ask with a chuckle.

he laughs.

"I guess not."

you both stare at each other for a good 2 minutes before you look down at his lips. he looks at you and stares at your lips as well.

you lean up closer to his face, your noses touching. he closes his eyes, waiting for it to happen. he of course wasn't prepared for his mind's decision to pull away.

"I have to go sweetheart. I'm sorry." he says as he pulls away from you. he can't bare to look at you as he stands up from the couch but he does it anyway and his heart sinks.

your pouting. god why must you look so good when you pout. "oh, please stay dean, I don't want to be alone. and I don't think you do either." you say standing up and grabbing his hand.

"just spend the night, and then in the morning you can leave, just don't leave without saying goodbye." you say pointing a finger at him.

"ok sweetheart, I won't." he says with a smile. "good." you respond with a smile as well.

"now, I have one more gift for you." you say with a smirk on your face.

"Oh really, what is it? it better be pie." he says with a chuckle. you roll your eyes playfully as you pull him towards you bedroom.

"i mean it'll be some kind of pie if you want it to be? but it's also much better than pie." you say seductively.

"mhmmm" he groans, "I like the sound of where this is going.

he runs his hands down your waist as you drag him towards you bed. you shrug off his jacket and he grabs your ass once his jacket is on the floor and goes straight for your jeans buttons.

"please kiss me already dean, I need you." you beg.

his lips are smashed on to yours immediately after your request. guess dean couldn't wait any longer either.

you tug at his shirt and he pulls it off. you take your shirt off as well and that's when dean pushes you on to the bed. you grab at his road shoulders and scratch at his back.

he nips at your neck leaving little sweet kisses after. you were so having hickeys afterwards.

he smashes his lips against yours again and you bite his lip. he groans at the feeling and you release his lip but he can taste the blood on his lip.

he licks his lips and looks at you. "you tryin to devour me huh?" he asks with a smirk.

"Maybe?" you ask with mimicking smirk on your face. he kisses you again and you moan in his mouth. god he lives for your noises.

"do that again." he demands. he kisses down your neck looking for that spot that makes you reel. you moan in his ear again and he physically fights the urge not to shove his fingers in you ight now.

his cock painfully aching in his boxers. you both roll around and moan in each others ears. you tug on his hair and he tugs on yours.

he inhales your scent and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

you were amazing. even more amazing when he first entered inside you. god you were so fucking tight. so delicious. so enticing.

you were pulling him in and he was hitting all the right spots to make you scream his name like a mantra, like a prayer.

you loved the feeling of his fat cock inside you. it made you feel euphoric. no one has ever made you feel this way, dean hit every spot. he made you cry and scream and feel so good.

you needed him. you desired every bit of him. he's the man you daydream about, the one you read tumblr fics about.

you feel your orgasm approaching and dean feels his but he solely his focused on making you feel good. sadly that doesn't work because he's struggling to not cum inside you.

"it's ngh- ok dean. please cum inside me, I want it so bad. please." you beg him and he loses it. he kisses you one last time before he releases inside you, still thrusting and over stimulating himself just to make you feel good.

you eventually cum around his cock as well, feeling so good. you arch into him and tug on his hair really hard he groans. he moans into your ear as he lets out the last spurts of his cum into your stoamch.

he rearranged your guts like no other before and you loved how it made you feel dean winchester makes you feel alive. he makes you feel like yourself.

dean pulls out of you and lays right behind you. you cuddle into him throwing your leg over his to tangle up in his warmth.

he smiles to himself and you kiss him again as you both fall asleep. dean couldn't stop thinking about you. and you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he's your saviour. your hero. your perfect man. your first love.

your his daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love.

It's been a year now and you and dean are thriving. he calls you every day and every night when he's on a hunt.

you even got to meet his brother. you comforted him when his dad died and you even let them stay at your place whenever they were in town.

two years go by and you and dean are on a little break. he said that he didn't feel like he could give you what you wanted and asked if he could take a break from the relationship to give him some time to think.

you didn't know he slept with an old fling and it broke your heart when sam told you.

you went on hunting alone. you met bobby on a hunt and he treated you well. he made sure you were safe.

four years go by and you meet dean again, you never blocked him and he called from time to time. sometimes you'd answer other times, you'd not even give him the time of day.

you looked at dean and realized he hasn't aged a day, if anything he looked more mature, he looked just as good as the last time you saw him.

his voice deeper and still demanding. you hug him and he tells you how much he's missed you. you missed him just as much.

he told you he was sorry and you forgave him. you forgave him a long time ago. he offered to try again and you agreed.

the three of you went hunting together like a family and it was fun. but one night you decided to play hero.

"dean, I once told you you deserved a happy ending, that you weren't a monster." you say quickly while panting.

"yea babe, but why? why are you saying this?" he asked his glossy eyes staring back at you.

"you know I love you right?" you tell him.

"I love you too sweetheart, now tell me what's wrong?!" he shouts.

you hear the footsteps of the vampire and you look at sam and dean.

"babe, it's my turn to be a hero ok? you go on without me. you live your life and you find your happy ending. I love you both so much." you say holding the both of their hands.

"Now run." you say.

you shoot at the vampire and it rushes towards you choking you. you try to fight it off but it stabs you in the stomach and you scream out.

Sam runs to rescue you and dean screams for you. the vampire throws you off to the side and bloods seeping out of your mouth and wound. dean runs to your limp body on the floor and he cradles you in his arms.

sam quickly runs back over the vampires body on the ground with a wooden stake in it's heart and it's head cut off.

you try to speak but dean shushes you.

"no no baby don't speak i'm gonna get you help ok, y-your- fuck your gonna live ok. SON OF A BITCH! baby please don't die on me, I love you please please please." he cries.

"i-i love you too, my sweet hero." your last words before your eyes shut and your no longer moving.

he says your name and sam checks for a pulse. he looks at dean and shakes his head no. dean shakes you and screams your name some more but no response.

he sits there and cries with sam by his side crying as well.

you were dean's daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love and the last one he ever loved. the one he couldn't save.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

Bedrooms I think tmr characters would have:

Thomas

- Pikachu plush is definitely from either Newt or Minho’s.

- This guy has so many pairs of shoes even though he only wears one pair all the time.

- The wood floor and blinds just scream teenager Thomas.

Newt

- Lot of blankets and pillows.

- Lot of greenery: fake vines, but I can also see him having real spider plants.

-Definitely soft toys, probably several teddies from Thomas.

-Guitar in one corner and lots of music posters: probs Nirvana or My Chemical Romance.

-Very cluttered in a cosy way.

-Pride flag in the room somewhere.

-BOOKS!!

Minho

-He would defiantly have a stolen stop sign/street sign or convex mirror.

-Yellow walls and checkered rug.

-Tons of funko pops and old magazines.

-Drum kit and probably a random ukulele he got for Christmas and doesn’t even know how to play.

-Some Queen poster + sport shirts on the walls.

Brenda

-Lots of LEDs.

-Probably quite a few squish mallows and books.

-Some kind of dreamcatcher or astronomy poster.

-DVD, CD and record players + tons of vinyl.

-Probs a pride flag too.

-Lots of posters all over the walls.

-Wavy mirror.

Gally

-Probably had a single bed thinking it would stop Minho trying to sleep in his room but it only made Minho snuggle closer.

-Sports and band posters.

-Dumbbells or fitness equipment of some kind.

-Carpet floor and ceiling fan.

-CDs but no CD player so he has to use Brenda’s which led to their weekly music listening, gossiping and bullying Thomas’ idiocy session.

(I’ll do a part two if y’all like this :))

(Sorry I haven’t been posting much)

[cr0wqui11]

AITA for maiming a celebrity?

I (17, F) attacked and bit the cheek of this celebrity (27, M) at a CD signing in Orlando, Florida. Ok, so, this was when I was 15. I loved him when he was the lead singer of a boy band. He made family friendly music and when I listened to it I felt like I was ascending to heaven, lifted by God’s angels!!! But, the band split up after one of the members got killed… the lead singer ended up trying to make a living through commercials, but he was a laughing stock to the general public!!! Not me, though!! I wrote him a bunch of letters (over 3000) and one day, he wrote back!!! HE WROTE BACK!!!

Anyways, after a while, I saw that this lead singer had started a solo career!! I was absolutely ecstatic!! I stayed up all night by the record store like a mom on Black Friday so I could get the CD immediately!! But when I went home and listened to it, it was… IT WAS HORRIBLE!!! Completely inappropriate!! The masses had sent him down hate highway!! I felt crushed… but then, I saw an ad in the newspaper that he was doing a CD signing!!! This was my chance!! I could fix him!!

Sooo I kinda went on a week long trip where I illegally hopped the border and sold drugs with my brother to people… but we got there! I even bought him his favourite coffee!! So I walk up to him and give him this speech about how the world has changed him… but he called me a lesbian!! For context, I was bullied in school, and they called me a lesbian for no reason!! It made me suuuuperrrr depressed. They even burned my backpack??? Anyways, he also told me to get out of his face!! Enraged, I threw the boiling hot coffee on him and mauled him. I then got extradited back to Canada. Afterwards I got put on probation. So AITA??

[eagans]

You just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn’t have Bluetooth. You can only buy 7 CDs and you can’t repeat an artist. What are you getting?

melodrama by lorde

emails i can’t send fwd: by sabrina carpenter

stick season (forever) by noah kahan

cleopatra by the lumineers

saintmotelevision by saint motel

you signed up for this by maisie peters

sondheim: putting it together (original off-broadway cast recording)

tagged by @ronandreams, thank youuu this was super fun <3 went for the fundamentals™️ (personality-defining albums) as well as some variety ☝️

tagging some friends! @oh-god-a-four, @julesnichols, @karendevil, @bvck-barnes, @sapphics, @yeleena, @kidbabygodforsakenmess, @spareham, @hellyrigs, @epiphainie, @electricbluebutterflies, @gilliandersons, @delphines, @helen-norvilles-female-rage, @peachyjude, @lanistas, @bromcommie, @callitacurse, @lumons — no pressure as always, am super curious about your picks though 🙂‍↕️

[wumblr]

the way house of leaves has been revived for a cult following is so funny. it's completely backwards! it was a music industry book. the singer poe, who made waves with her debut for having a few tracks produced by j dilla and then if i remember correctly doing a 500+ show tour, essentially tanked her career to promote the book (written by her brother)

not like on purpose but it was supposed to be a paired project and there was a remix with a book excerpt read by mark (the kyrie bmw sex scene) and like, i don't know, a tie-in website -- but then her label got sold or merged or acquired and the project was eventually cancelled after languishing in limbo for a few years. there's also an aspect of this where like, a texas oil executive posed as a friend of her late father (possibly true) in order to manipulate legal proceedings (?) to ultimately own her writing and recording copyrights post-acquisition (dubious allegation, which also relies on her having signed away both types of copyright to her label in the first place, arguably a larger problem spanning the whole industry, even today, still coming up in legal proceedings from kesha and taylor swift and so on)

anyway the album (haunted) and the book were both inspired by the same event (death of their father, tad danielewsky -- as an aside, a professor of theater at brigham young university). the album features samples from a box of cassette tape recordings of his voice. and also some fake samples from a couple of guys pretending to be tad danielewski with an obviously ridiculous accent and a couple of kids pretending to be her as a kid. and it takes place inside the house. the growl is there and everything i swear

it really was one of the top tier 90s concept albums (it was released in 2000 actually) but it is usually FAR too much to handle for casual listening and a lot of it comes across difficult for being so sincere and so unfocused (it is a love letter to her dead father where one of the songs is a list of places she's gotten fucked, because, uh, this is a conversation she wanted to have with him. shrug). and yet it's hard not to take it as it is because it's so consistently well produced

so i know nobody's computer comes with a cd player anymore but to read the book without listening to the paired album implicitly packed in the back of the book jacket is kind of like missing the whole point. there's a whole second act of rashomon you guys are missing. and a third act hello the etsy teleplays. ANYWAY the point i wanted to make is that there are a couple of things about the album sticking to the roof of my mouth as being somehow prescient. there's a distorted "why (are you) so serious" sample that would have come across VERY differently post-joker, but there's also "tell me something dangerous and true," a far more interesting variation on the theme currently circulating. and i'm speaking to an empty room here because it's only the celibate 60% of this website who is reading the book because it allows them a patina of literary validity and several nested unreliable narrators to distance themselves from the sex scenes, but haunted is very authentically, directly and exclusively written in first person and to be honest it fucks too hard for you guys. i'm sorry

[tayraedoll]

Drag Me to Hell

You purchase an old radio at an antique store that turns out to be haunted as fuck. Will you successfully banish the demon back to hell before he can take you with him? Just to be safe MDNI 18+ Only!

So I meant to write this as a one-shot but it quickly got away from me so now it is a full, multi-chapter fic. What can I say? I have lost all control of my life...

TW: Horror, Alastor is his own warning, blood, gore, swearing, crude and dark humor, hallucinations, reader is not an exorcist expert- don't try this at home, more tags to be added as the story progresses.

Part 2

"Do we really have to go in?", you whine to your best friend Kate, scrunching your nose in disgust at the literal shack with a rusty, old "Antiques" sign.

Kate giggles at your antics,"Oh come on; it'll be fun! Who knows what treasures we might find?" She grabs your arm and pulls you through the door behind her; the little bell atop the door chimes merrily to signal your entrance. You look around, as far as you were concerned there was junk piled high in every direction. Taking stock of the room you were in you notice old Coke bottles, cigar boxes, a china cabinet filled with those creepy ass 'Precious Moments' figurines, and a shit ton of clothes that were even too outdated for your grandmother to wear.

"You're counting literal trash as treasure now? That explains your dating history", you deadpan at your friend.

"Bitch I said we MIGHT find treasure! But you gotta dig through the dirt to reach it first", Kate rolls her eyes at you but smiles at your jab. Gentle bullying was just how you showed each other your love. She walks further into the store, perusing through all the trinkets on the shelves. You follow after her, trying your best to not make eye contact with those Precious Moments dolls whose eyes seemed to follow you as you pass by.

You enter an adjacent room, this one filled with tin cooking instruments in varying degrees of disrepair. A portly, older gentleman with greying hair sat behind a register with a large tabby cat on the table. The cat lets out a loud yowl at the pair of you but the man says nothing as he watches you carefully in case you try to steal anything. 'What in here is even worth stealing?' you think to yourself. You smile at him politely and quickly move onto the next room, this one filled with old toys...yikes.

"So how do you know when you find "treasure?", you ask, using your fingers to put air quotations around the word treasure. Kate picks up a particularly disturbing looking baby doll and wiggles it in front of your face.

"When you find something you just can't leave without!", she laughs as you flinch back, glaring at her- you had told her your hatred of dolls in good faith and here she was using that information against you. She places the demonic toy back on the shelf and you give it another glare for good measure- not today Annabelle.

The next area was only slightly less disturbing; it looked like a middle-aged housewife was allowed to decorate it with all the "Live, Laugh, Love" and "Wine a Little, Laugh A Lot" signs all around. "Jesus Fucking Christ does this place never end?! It didn't look this big from outside!", you exclaim in exasperation. Kate carded through a stack of pictures and paintings.

"Perhaps if you actually looked for something that strikes your fancy you'd have a better time", she absentmindedly replied. You sigh but raise your hands in surrender, she had a point there. You make your way to the back, knowing nothing in this basic Karen of a room was going to please you.

When you reach the next room your eyes light up,"A ha! Now this room is interesting!", you call back to Kate. It was a music-themed room full of old records, CD's, posters, and stereos. As a music major in college you felt your heart soar at the sight of all the little pieces of music history surrounding you. You immediately dig into the records, wondering if you could find something new for your collection that was in decent shape. Maybe it was old school of you, but nothing beat the crisp sound of a record; records made you feel like the music was surrounding you, like you could see and taste the notes making it a full-body sensory experience.

Kate joins you, letting out a curt laugh,"I should have guessed it would be a music room." Your frown slightly as you reach the end of the records without finding anything of note for your collection. You sigh heavily at the disappointment that fills your chest.

"Too bad this room turned out to be a du-", you trail off as you catch sight of it. On the top shelf at the far end of the room sat an ornate, antique radio. It was cathedral-shaped, made of a dark- almost black- wood, the face painted a bright crimson. The speakers resembled a throne and below the control panel were large, yellow slices that resembled flames...or a very creepy smile. You gently plucked the fragile-looking radio from the shelf; it was a lot sturdier than it looked, feeling pretty hefty in your hands. You turn it around in your hands, it appeared to be battery-powered like most radios were prior to the 1930's. You wondered if it would work today.

"Find something interesting?", Kate asked beside you. She made a face at the old radio, "No offense but that thing is creepy AF!"

"It is no creepier than that doll earlier!", you defend your unique find. "I think I'll purchase it", you state with finality and make your way back to the front. The old man speaks little more than just to tell you your total cost, the cat joining him as they stare at you distrustfully. 'Jeez, cranky old coot', you think.

Back at your home you tinker around with the radio, polishing it up a bit and adding some new batteries. Your home was small, just a 1-bedroom and bathroom place that you were renting on the outskirts of New Orleans. You decorated modestly, a bookshelf with your favorite novels and records took up an entire wall of your small living room. The TV was small and pushed into a corner, you really only used it for background noise most days. You had one small but comfortable couch that you mostly used to work on. You were a writer for OffBeat, New Orleans' local music magazine. It was a great gig that let you work from home, even if you weren't compensated the best being a new writer on the team. You spent most of your days writing about Jazz and The Blues, local concerts and events coming up, and interviewing rising artists.

You placed the radio up on top of your bookshelf, you'd try to get it to work tomorrow. As you were pushing it back onto the shelf you felt a sharp sting in your finger, "Ah! Fuck!", you exclaim as you quickly pull your finger back. You inspect it, finding a drop of blood leaking out of your skin; you must have accidentally cut yourself on one of the yellow ornamental parts. You raise your bleeding finger to your lips and gently suck the small wound to soothe it. Sparing one last glance up to the radio, you turn off the light and head to bed.

Completely missing how the smile of the radio that just bit into you started to eerily glow in the dark after you.

[ririya-translates]

Jack Jeanne March/April 2025 News

Apologies if someone has already done a big news roundup post but I figured I'd write one for covering the fourth anniversary stuff and new book and manga releases.

This year's anniversary art took a very different direction from the formal styles from last year's with a more streetwear look. Official website here.

We got a livestream too with Yuka Terasaki (Kisa), Masumu Ono (Kasai), and Taichi Kusano (Mare) where they read some fan mail about things people like about JJ and which class they'd be in. The stream didn't reveal a lot of new news, although it does sound like Ishida and Towada are working on the sequel pretty much every day. Towada also posted this cute art before the stream on Bluesky.

On another stream Kisa's VA did with Gakuto Kajiwara (Shirota) she mentioned that she's only met with Ishida twice so far (and that he reminds her of Kenshi Yonezu??) so it sounds like probably a lot is going on in the planning and writing stage, but they're not at the recording stage yet. Also please watch this adorable clip of them singing Faded Color together.

As far as anniversary news, a lot of it was the expected things (mostly stuff that's hard to access outside of Japan) like Joysound karaoke collab, Gratte cafe collab, popup shops in Shibuya and Umeda with a little digital stamp collection game. I'm expecting merch to be sold online on Broccoli's store after the shops close at the end of March (requires a JP address so you will likely need a proxy shipping service outside of Japan). In addition to the acrylic stands and pins, there was a cute Tummy coffee tumbler and a sorta itabag-style tote with a window in it for showing off merch. They also announced a new drama CD coming out based on Towada's birthday stories (currently untranslated to my knowledge).

But the most exciting thing is that we're getting some new content! The first is a novel by Towada called 玉坂の光跡 or "Tamasaka's Trail of Light" which includes both the first anniversary novel "Happy Anniversary" (which used to be free but has sadly been cut to just a sample) and a new episode of 30k characters. It's a bit over 300 pages long which makes it slightly longer than the summer novel and Seven Winds. There's also some pre-order bonuses (art from Stella Worth and a visual board with a short story from Animate)

The second is a manga collection titled ジャックジャンヌ FOLIAGE ～アンバー・オニキス～ (Jack Jeanne FOLIAGE - Amber & Onyx) which has both Puppet and Parsley manga with some new art. If you want to check out the JP versions, I suggest trying to do so before April 17th as I'm unsure if they'll continue to be available for free after the commercial release.

But perhaps one of the most exciting things is that just today Ishida announced a new two-part manga one-shot published in Ultra Jump on April 18th. It's called "Duckweed" and will be focused on Minorikawa's first year after being picked to the be class lead's assistant and his challenges in managing all the Rhodonite girlies. Unlike the others, I do not expect this one to be posted officially online for free since it's being published.

For those who were maybe hoping for more sequel news, I do think the biggest thing we can take away from all this between the note at the end of Parsley, Kasai and Mare on the anniversary stream, and now a Minorikawa manga is that I get the strong sense the sequel will take place in the following year with Kisa as a second-year. I'm not sure how they will make this work with the graduated students, but that seems to be the direction all signs are indicating.

[redheadsramblings]

7 Album Game

Tagged by the lovely @the-font-bandit @paramortality and @silshinobii for this 🥰

ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ: you just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn't have bluetooth. You can only buy 7 CDs and you can't repeat an artist. What are you getting?

Gah, this is gonna be possibly weird is all I can say, so buckle in kids 😉

SIX: The Musical — Studio Cast Recording

TRAUMACORE (RAW AND UNCUT) — SkyDxddy

Phantom Of The Opera — 1986 Original London Cast Recording

A Hangover You Don't Deserve — Bowling For Soup

Menace To Sobriety — OPM

Tenacious D — Tenacious D

The Truth About Love - P!NK

No pressure tagging @blightedcrow @libdibs @officialnostradamus @serbarris @ferocious-notes @emmg @themontess @mosoderbergh @randomnonsensedragonage @galacticsparkles @sunny374940 @tinygameralec @mistressandry @scottysketches @draco-illius-noctis @theroseunblown @jukkaricity @holdingontojupiter @danyrics @crimsen-khalessi @pseudospaceship @notyourmamasdeerbat @curiouswisp @guacamolleee  @andthekitchensinkao3 @lavenderprose @caughtnyact @hedwigoprah @gomezwrinkles @tacoteddy22 @thequeenofthewinter @sofiemystique @shootingstar7123 @omabell-illustrier @theyearningghoul @pwney @mojo-bro-tho @theshotsheardacrossworlds @dymme @aetherflowers @scuttlingcrab @mercars-musings @ar-ghilas-vir-banal @serstolas @woundedsoul12 @dragonracer and anyone else who fancies a go tag you're it 😁

If you would like to go on my tag list, I have a post here where you can sign up

[centrally-unplanned]

Hopefully coming back to posting after being away for a bit - had a trip with Partner M to Seattle! It was very fun - Seattle is a true "water city" like I have not been to in quite a while. DC, NYC, Tokyo, etc, are all on the water in various forms, but their connection to it has withered into the purely recreational. Seattle meanwhile is built so heavily around the Puget Sound and the lakes and rivers that it feeds, defining city districts & the local "downtowns", such that you are always aware of the flows around you. We took a ferry out to Bainbridge Island - which was a huge ferry carrying hundreds of cars every half hour because that is the most efficient way to cross the Sound to the towns on the other side - and there is nothing like dozens of marinas and fleets of sailboats out on the water to make a bay feel alive:

Some of this is, of course, something of a larp - the heart of downtown Seattle (the Central Waterfront) has a million fish shacks and crab huts on the docks, with parks and walkways, because, of course you have fish restaurants on sea, right? It is where you catch the fish? But it isn't, you aren't fishing at scale right next to skyscrapers anymore - those fish are imported from distant aquaculture farms just like any meat would be, these restaurants are only here for the style points. They aren't even legacy - the central docks in Seattle began closing down in the 1960's as industrial-scale container dockyards were set up in the south with truckyards for interior shipping, and much of this area was only revitalized starting in the 2000's via a city project to build a recreational zone. The tale of every American city in the post-industrial era, right?

But not all of it is nostalgia - Seattle also boasts the Ballard Locks, the US's busiest by ship traffic, which connects the Puget Sound to the Salmon Bay & Lake Washington. Very coolly, the whole thing is an accessible park - and crossing it is a typical way a pedestrian would get from the neighborhoods of Ballard to Magnolia. We were lucky enough to arrive when a boat was passing under the paired bridge and through the locks; so we got to watch humanity's oldest technology of civilization at work, raising a boat through the magic of tight gates and buoyancy forces:

These locks also have the Salmon Ladder, so migrating salmon can swim upriver in the fall and breed without being stuck in the gates. It wasn't the season for it so no fishies for me, but it was still extremely cute.

The locks, like the rest of the city, also have a fleet of enchanted crows who watch the boats for signs of trouble - a smart use of mana by the local mage's council:

Anyway, water-nature was only half of our trip: our other focus was being Huge Nerds around the college neighborhood of the University of Washington. And I gotta say, this fucked, I was not expecting this area of town to be as cool as it was - it might be in the top 5 coolest areas in the US for this kind of vibe. An endless stretch of coffee shops, chinese noodle houses, record stores, vintage & thrift, and - critical for me - the highest density of weeb shit this side of LA's Little Tokyo. The standout was ofc Scarecrow video, though I will also highlight Neptune Records:

Partner M discussed Scarecrow in her own post, so I won't belabor it here - though look out for a later post on one of the videos we rented - but I wanted to give Neptune a shout out for being the Scarecrow Video of Music. It was floor-to-ceiling records, CDs, and cassettes stuffed into every nook and cranny that could take them; every shot shelf was so dense. As is tradition for me, whenever I visit a record store I ask after my quixotic dream of owning a Plumtree record, and typically the person goes "who is that" and opens their computer to check their inventory. At Neptune though:

"Do you have, miraculously, any Plumtree in stoc-"

"Nope"

"Oh, you know them?"

"Nope. But I know I don't got 'em"

This man has memorized his entire collection of surely >10,000 items and knew instantly Plumtree wasn't one of them. He didn't even make eye contact during this. Now that's autism, baby <3.

On the weeb side my stand-out store was Hifi Lofi, an eclectic buy-sell-trade store right by campus. Honestly when it comes to anime stores in the US, they have a huge "sameness" problem - all stocking the same Ghibli notebooks and Shounen Jump shows minifigs and the like. Hifi Lofi didn't truck in any of that, instead splicing a grunge-DJ vibe and intentional buys by the owner with whatever-the-fuck the community dumped on them. They had Pinky St figurines! I have never seen those in the US outside of cons. They had an entire collection of Neon City Records synthwave vinyl, which tells me exactly how terminally online they were in the late 2010's, mad respect (never did get one of their jackets, alas). I spoke to the owner, and they partnered with a local graphic designer to spec out their place and otherwise actually were making good money on the buy-sell margins while doing thrice yearly trips to Japan for specific merch hauls:

Here I think Seattle is reflecting its own economic demography - large Asian American population, lots of technology companies attracting a wealthy, nerdy consumer base, and most importantly a large, public university located right near the city center so the student population and the city population can intermingle. You would be surprised how uncommon that last part is! Not unique of course, but many "flagship" big universities are in their own college towns or positioned right at the edge of the city. When the University of Washington was founded in the mid 19th century, it was at said "edge" - Seattle was a tiny port town at the time, and grew far faster than anyone could have anticipated. All these demos mixing together makes for a great hub for artsy commerce. Given my fantasy dream of opening a manga cafe/anime theatre, and how difficult that would be in DC, seeing a place where it actually seemed maybe-viable was nice.

City is so nerd-friendly we saw a string of protest stickers by some strident fujoshi over the racebending casting of Severus Snape in the HBO remake:

Tumblr is truly amoung us wherever you go.

Speaking of, I was actually planning on posting to see if any mutuals in the Seattle area wanted to get coffee - but alas I had a throat issue this trip which made talking a slight struggle :/ I got through it fine but it meant I had to save my talking points for partner. Next time though!

Okay, that is my self-indulgent record-of-my-trip post done lol - may future posts be more general interest.