#great jones records

[stevienicksrps]

STOP romanticizing stevie nicks and lindsey buckingham’s toxic relationship which included him strangling her and START romanticizing stevie nicks and tom petty’s lifelong supportive friendship

[waugh-bao]

[wolfofansbach]

BEING A LIST OF THE THIRTEEN GREATEST RIVERDALE LINES, ON THE OCCASION OF THAT SHOW'S TERMINATION

As our much loved/hated show comes to an end, I feel compelled to record, for posterity, the greatest thirteen pieces of dialogue to spring from the pens of RAS and his henchmen. It was, of course, originally a top ten list, but I simply could not exclude a few of these treasures. Without further ado: 

13. 

“I dropped out in the 4th grade, to sell drugs, to support my nana.” 

“That means you haven't known the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of high school football.” 

Spoken by: an inmate of Leopold and Loeb Juvenile Detention Center, and Archie Andrews. 

In: 3 x 2 

Yeah, okay, this one had to be on the list. It’s funny, I’ll admit. It’s a great example of the overwrought semi-sincere melodrama that helped make this show so special. It’s low on the list largely because The Normies got their hands on it, so every time I hear someone make a reference I get all “do not cite the deep magic to me, witch.” 

12. 

“No! No! What are we supposed to do now? I’m horny as heck!”

Spoken by: Archie Andrews 

In: 7 x 16

Season 7 is undeniably dreadful, and yet there are diamonds in the rough. The occasion is the failure of a projector, just as Archie and Reggie prepare to watch a pornographic film. The utter desperation with which KJ Apa delivers this line is exquisite. One is made to feel they are witnessing a genuine tragedy. 

11. 

“Tonight, they’re making an exception and debuting a cover of the song my parents claim they were listening to the night Jason and I were conceived.” 

Spoken by: Cheryl Blossom. 

In: 1 x 1 

Really a fantastic line. A wonderful encapsulation of the casual absurdity of Cheryl’s character, and a foretaste of the lunacy we would plumb in later episodes and seasons. 

10. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in and I don’t want to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.” 

Spoken by: Jughead Jones

In: 1 x 10

A genuine classic. “High school football” before “high school football.” One is never entirely sure just how sincere the line is meant to be, both on a meta-level and in-universe. A perfect illumination of Jughead’s pretentiousness. It is made all the better by the occasional cuts to Lili Reinhard’s agonized face. 

9. 

“At the last dance, multiple students were murdered.” 

Spoken by: Principal Holden Honey. 

In: 4 x 2

Delivered as an explanation to Toni and Cheryl, as to why there would be no school dance this year. Principal Honey is in fact supremely rational in the cancellation of this dance. This being Riverdale, he is of course treated as an unreasonable tyrant. 

8. 

“Bro, I know all the secrets of this universe.” 

Spoken by: Archie Andrews (evil version)

In: 6 x 5 

Spoken as evil Archie reveals his evil plan to keep the parallel universes apart. KJ Apa’s delivery once again makes this line. He is comically sinister. Strangely, he sells it. 

7. 

“A Vughead kiss, right now, in the present might be precisely what it takes to save a future Bughead from imploding.” 

Spoken by: Jughead Jones. 

In: 2 x 14

One of those lines that both makes me laugh and makes me genuinely angry. This was a fairly early season, and this may have actually been the first line to get me asking, ‘did they genuinely write and deliver that?’ Extra points for use of the atrocious ‘Vughead’ portmanteau ship name rather than ‘Jeronica.’ 

6. 

“I’m the ultimate wild card. I am the daughter of The Black Hood. The nightmare from next door. I’m training with the FBI and I’m coming for you, you psycho bitch.” 

Spoken by: Betty Cooper

In: 4 x 14 

Just delicious. Another one of those lines that leaves you somewhat unsure whether or not the writers understood how genuinely hysterical it was. “The Nightmare from Next Door” sounds like an announcer hyping up a wrestler. Spoken with a raw sincerity by Lili Reinhart. Also points for the heavy homoeroticism between Betty and Donna. 

5. 

“For I am Cheryl Blossom, Queen of the Bees.” 

Spoken by: Cheryl Blossom.

In: 5 x 16. 

This one really doesn’t require any elaboration. 

4. 

“Elijah ascended…and I will, too.” 

Spoken by: Edgar Evernever.

In: 4 x 5. 

Admittedly, this one is only spectacular with context. But in context—the context being that Chad Michael Murray delivers this line while dressed like Evel Knievel and standing in a cartoon rocket right out of a Warner Bros cartoon—it becomes utterly magnificent. 

3. 

“It’s not queer baiting, it’s saving the world.” 

Spoken by: Veronica Lodge. 

In: 6 x 22. 

It’s actually hard for me to decide whether this one is funnier with or without context. Without context it’s wonderful, but it possibly becomes even funnier when you know that the context is that Veronica needs to kiss Cheryl to transfer superpowers into her body so she can turn into a Scarlet Witch knock-off and stop a magic comet summoned by Sephiroth an English wizard who is also the Devil. 

2. 

“If there’s no wedding reception, it means the Gargoyle King has won.” 

Spoken by: Kevin Keller. 

In: 3 x 12.

One of my personal favorites. This is a perfect line because like #3, it requires no real elaboration. There is absolutely no context in which it isn’t hysterical. 

1 .

“Word of my exploits serving Nick his comeuppance has seeped into the demimonde of mobsters and molls my father used to associate with, so the five families are sending their youngest and brightest, their ‘princes,’ as it were to, well, come court the rare Mafia Princess who can belly up to the bar with the big boys.

Spoken by: Veronica Lodge. 

In: 2 x 20. 

This is, in my opinion, the all-timer. Every word is perfect. The rapid-fire alliteration. The use of the word ‘demimonde.’ The entirely unnecessary addition of ‘as it were.’ This is borderline Dr. Seuss. The fact that Camila Mendes delivered it without cracking a smile should have won her an Emmy. No. An Oscar. This line is Riverdale. 

[sirfrogsworth]

Whenever I see an up-and-coming Youtuber I notice they often make the same mistake. When the time comes to increase production quality, the absolute first thing you should do is invest in improving your sound. Not the camera or the lens or lighting or set design. Audio quality trumps all of that. People being able to understand what you are communicating should always be the highest priority.

And the cool part is you can do this with a cheap lav mic. There are some that can just plug right into your phone. The next priority is learning how to set levels and make sure your voice isn't distorting from being too loud. You can even record a little quiet and bump up the levels later on. But if you record too loud to begin with, you can't fix that.

After that you can "treat" your room. Which just involves controlling echo and reverb. Foam acoustic panels are expensive and not necessary. You can do the same thing by just filling your room with stuff. Furniture, books, blankets, pillows. You want to eliminate large flat surfaces. If the sound has to bounce around on 20 different surfaces before it comes back to your microphone, it will have much less energy.

You can also figure out which wall is the biggest echo offender and hang a couple of heavy blankets in front of it. If you can score those moving blankets on the cheap, those work great. And if you can put a gap in between the blankets that will further reduce echo/reverb. You don't have to cover the entire wall, just the main area in front of where you are speaking. If you can reduce that very first reflection, the sound will have much less energy to bounce off other surfaces.

All that said, sometimes people will go overboard with sound and buy that giant phallic SM7B dynamic microphone. I see those things everywhere. Yes, Michael Jackson used it and it does sound great. But with so many quality USB mics that plug straight into your computer, it is a huge hassle and really overkill unless you just enjoy audio tech and want a cool toy. The SM7B requires extra equipment to make it sound good. It's XLR so you need a special interface. And most people add a "cloudlifter" because it isn't very sensitive and can be really quiet without it. Plus, dynamic mics need to be super close to your mouth and I think covering half your face with a giant mic isn't the best visual. There are lav mics in a wide spectrum of price ranges that can be hidden and sound great. Or you can do a shotgun mic like they use in movies. It can be hidden offscreen and pick up your voice from a distance.

Big dynamic mics are great for people with baritone voices. If you are James Earl Jones and you want to show off your voice, the SM7B or something similar makes more sense. Beyond that, most of your viewers just want clarity. Good room treatment and a $30 lav mic can achieve that pretty well. And if you watch a few tutorials on how to EQ and process audio, you can do a lot to make a cheaper microphone sound great. Reaper is a wonderful audio program with professional features and a reasonable price.

TLDR... fix your sound first!

[eiightysixbaby]

i've got you under my skin now

word count: 2.9k

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI. SMUT SMUT SMUT. kind of asshole!eddie but he's really just a moody baby, oral (m receiving), masturbation, reader and eddie argue but everything is consensual, really just absolute filth with a plot.

summary: you're an up-and-coming musician in the rock scene and have been asked to join corroded coffin on a song. only thing is, their singer - eddie munson - proves to be challenging to collaborate with.

author's note: my first lengthier work so sorry in advance if there are errors! this is a daisy jones and the six inspired one-shot, and for the sake of this fic i directly reference the title and lyrics of the song 'honeycomb' from the tv show - but you really don't need to know the book/show to understand. ok anyways hope u all like it and here u go @taintedcigs i know u've been waiting for this one em i hope u love it!!

“Honestly Eddie, I don’t care anymore! I’m not listening to your little rockstar tantrum. She’s coming in, and she’s joining you on the song. That’s final.”

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

Eddie scoffs at his manager. Ever since he was informed that ‘Y/N - biggest fucking nobody in the rock scene’ was going to be coming in and recording his song with him, Eddie had been relenting.

“Tom, you don’t fucking get it man. Clearly. My song is perfect. What do we need her for? She doesn’t even have an album out, she’s made no name for herself. She’s going to ruin Corroded Coffin.” Eddie continues pestering, despite Tom’s insistence against it.

“No, Eddie, see that’s where you’re wrong. You wrote a good song man, okay? A good song. But just a good song. She could make it great. You haven’t heard her sing like I have. She has real talent.”

Eddie scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Oh a good song, huh? But you said the label liked it. Why change it?”

Tom sighs, taking a step towards Eddie. “The label didn’t dig the song… okay? They said it needs more, otherwise they’re gonna pass on it.”

“So you fuckin’ lied man, fuck-“ Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine, whatever, she’s gonna sing on the song with me. But that’s it.” Eddie grumbles, storming out of the small room.

•••

“He doesn’t get it, guys, he doesn’t fucking get it!” Eddie yells. “This is my song. My fucking baby. And this... bitch is gonna come in here and destroy it. I don’t need her singing on the song - I don’t need anyone to make my music ‘better’” he spits.

The thing is, things have always gone Eddie’s way since Corroded Coffin gained traction in the music world. Eddie writes the songs, Eddie dictates which songs go on the album, so on and so forth. This makes sense to Eddie, and if you ask him, he’s being completely fair to the rest of the guys in the band. ‘Of course I let them have a say in things. I don’t care what rumors you’ve heard - it’s a fair process around here.’ It’s only natural that he can’t handle the idea of someone else singing on his song. Eddie is always the one singing, save for Gareth and Jeff doing backing vocals.

Eddie thrives off of being liked. The way the fans hang onto every word he sings- it’s electric to him. He’s addicted to the way people adore him. And he’d never admit it to anybody… but he’s nervous you might just show him up, and then *poof* no one cares about him anymore.

“Come on, Eddie. Ease up a little! This could be fun, you never know.” Gareth says, following Eddie back and forth as he paces the recording studio.

“I give you like, 20 minutes before you’re in love with her… or bending her over a table.” Jeff interjects, screeching when Gareth throws a drumstick at him to shut him up.

Eddie can’t get a rebuttal in before the door swings open. Tom walks in trailed by a young woman. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman Eddie’s ever see- nope. Nope. Not going there. What was that?

“Guys. This is Y/N, as I’m sure you could guess. She’s here to record ‘Honeycomb’ with us today.” Tom smiles politely at the group, jolting Eddie from his thoughts.

“Y/N, hey. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Gareth, this is Jeff, Greg, and I’m sure you know Eddie - the star of the show.” Gareth goes around the room, pointing at all of the guys.

You meet Eddie’s gaze as Gareth talks, and your breath hitches in your throat. Of course you know who Eddie is- you’ve seen him on magazine covers and in interviews. You’ve always thought he was alluring, but he’s even more gorgeous in person. Long, curly hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Tattoos trailing up his arms and chains around his neck. His signature ripped black skinny jeans that hug him so well in all the right places… fuck. Focus. You are not here to sleep with Eddie Munson. You redirect your attention to Gareth as he finishes speaking.

The rest of the guys all greet you warmly - except Eddie, you notice - who gives you a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod.

You walk straight up to him, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you Eddie. Thank you so much for letting me be on the song - seriously, it means the world.” You say, exaggerating sincerity a little.

Eddie reluctantly shakes your hand. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

He walks away to set up a microphone before he can think too hard about the way his heart pounded as your hands touched.

•••

The recording session starts, and take one of the song has begun. You insisted on using the same mic as Eddie, who begrudgingly allowed you to stand beside him, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. The contact sends chills down his spine. Eddie sings the first lines confidently into the mic, not making eye contact with you. Tom, along with the rest of the band watch the two of you intently from the sound booth. Honestly, Eddie has to admit everything is going smoothly. That is, until the chorus starts. Eddie sings one lyric into the microphone… and you sing a different one.

“Woah, woah, okay, stop!” Eddie yells to Tom to cut the track, pulling the clunky headphones off of his head. “Those aren’t the lyrics, what are you doing?” He’s turned to face you, incredulous.

“Um I- I’m sorry, did he not get my version? Does he not know?” You say, avoiding eye contact with Eddie to level with Tom.

“Your version!? This is my song- you are here to sing on my song. Not to rewrite the damn song!” Eddie hisses, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, darling, I’m here to make your song better. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.” You narrow your eyes at him, a syrupy sweet smile on your face.

Eddie’s face is burning, his whole body is burning. You weren’t supposed to write new lyrics. This is not happening. And for the love of god stop staring at her lips, Eddie.

“Eddie, uh, let’s give her version a shot, yeah?” Tom says, framing it like a question, but Eddie knows he doesn’t really have a choice.

The track starts from the top again, and Eddie finds that his hands are trembling as he holds your songbook. He sings the lyrics as you have written them, and his stomach sinks as he does it. He hates that you’ve changed his perfect song. He hates that he was made to look like an idiot because Tom didn’t tell him you had rewritten anything. And most of all, he hates that he can hear how good your voices sound together. He hates that he thinks he’d like to hear the sound of your voice for the rest of his life, on the rest of his songs.

“Oooh, we could make a good thing bad,” the two of you sing out in unison, and the song ends.

Eddie stares at you and you stare at him, chest heaving and absolutely beaming. The rest of the band are looking at the two of you in awe from the sound booth. Eddie can’t bring himself to smile, can’t bring himself to let you know that he thinks you really might have made his song better. Can’t face you while his mind races with thoughts of grabbing your face and kissing you. Instead, he hands you your lyric book and hurries out of the studio.

You excuse yourself to the group amid their praises and follow him out the large wooden doors. You’re surprised to find the lobby empty, but then you hear noise coming from down the hall. Walking over to a small closet, you peer in and see Eddie in the dim light, leaning against the wall, hands covering his face and his head tipped back.

“Eddie, what was up with that?” You ask him gently, closing the closet door behind you for privacy. “I thought we sounded great.”

“You rewrote my fucking song!” He booms over you. “That wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to sing on it with me and that would be that.” He’s stepped towards you, leaving little room between the two of you in the already-cramped closet.

“It’s not my fault Tom didn’t tell you I changed some of the lyrics, okay? I didn’t expect you to be blindsided like that. But you could’ve been more mature about it!” You defend.

“Who the hell do you think you are? No- seriously, tell me. Corroded Coffin has worked so hard to make a name for ourselves. I have worked so hard. And you just waltz in here like you own the place? What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s words come out sharp, bitter, but there’s an emotion behind his eyes you can’t quite place. Fear? Maybe.

“Oh get your head out of your ass already, Eddie! I made your song better! We sounded fucking amazing together- the label might actually want it now!” You’re screaming back at him at this point, heat rising in your face as he steps impossibly closer to you. “And don’t even get me fucking started on the Corroded Coffin bullshit. Do you even give the other guys a say in what happens in this band? Cause you seem like a big cocky crybaby who always gets his way. I may not be rich and famous like you are but at least I’m not a fucking prick!” You’re seething, and you press your hands to his chest in an attempt to shove him backwards.

Eddie stops you, though, grabs you by the wrists. Firmly, but not hurting. His huge brown eyes haven’t stopped boring into yours. He thinks his heart might sprout wings and fly out of his chest. He thinks he might hate himself forever if he doesn’t get to have more of you.

“What- now you’re speechless? Don’t have anything to s-“ Eddie cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours like his life suddenly depends on it. Maybe it does.

You’re caught off guard, frozen in place for only a second until you kiss him back, pushing him up against the shelves behind him. His hands leave your wrists and hastily scour your body. You’d think he was a man starved the way he grips at your hips, lips basically devouring yours all the while. Eddie gasps as you lean down to his neck, sucking red and purple marks onto the skin that Jeff is definitely going to mock him for later. He can’t bring himself to care. He grabs your face in his hands to meet your lips once again, needing more.

“You wanna know something, Y/N?” Eddie says between kisses, moving down to nip at your neck. “I can’t fucking stand the way you came in here so confidently today-“ another kiss to your neck. “The way you came right up and sang into the same mic as me instead of using your own, like you just own the whole room-“ another kiss, and another “I can’t stand the fact that your lyrics are better than mine- that maybe you made 'Honeycomb' something I couldn’t make it,” he’s talking through gritted teeth, agitated and yet completely enamored with you. “I hate that the entire time I was watching you sing, I couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock..”

Before you can respond, he’s unbuttoning your jeans, pushing you against the opposite wall of the closet, taking control.

“I think you’re absolutely insufferable and immature” you breathe out, pulling his hair out of its ponytail so you can run your fingers through it.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, but it’s arrogant, smug. “You can spit whatever insults you like, sweetheart, but you’re absolutely soaked right now.” He gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he does. His fingers had slipped inside the waistband of your pants, and are now circling the lace fabric of your panties.

You feel yourself clench around nothing as his fingers tease your core. You let out an involuntary moan, rutting your hips down against his touch. He gets the hint and shimmies your jeans down your legs, and you slip out of them after quickly taking your shoes off. You meet his gaze again as he tugs his jeans down slightly, pulling his cock free from the thin fabric of his boxers.

And - oh my god - he’s fucking huge. Thick and long with a dripping pink tip. You swallow, hard, and you swear you feel your mouth start to water. Suddenly you can’t figure out how you’ve survived this long without him, and you certainly won’t be able to after this.

“Get on your fucking knees, babydoll” he purrs, lips inches away from your ear.

You oblige, of course, settling yourself so that your pussy rests on the toe of his combat boot, aching for whatever friction you can get. You take his cock into your mouth without further instruction from the rockstar, and he inhales sharply above you.

“Fuck, baby, shit-“ Eddie groans, collecting your hair in one of his hands and tugging, his cock twitching slightly in your mouth.

“What, big shot, can’t handle it? Should I tell the press that Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin comes three seconds into a blowjob?” you tease him, but you can’t ignore the way your head spins at his praise.

“Shut up and fucking suck it, sweetheart- I can handle it.” He hisses.

You don't need further instruction. Your tongue works on his cock, licking a stripe up his length and then kitten-licking the tip. Eddie’s seeing stars as you engulf him entirely in your mouth once again. You go at it for a while before he feels you rutting yourself against his boot.

His laugh is devious, wicked. “So desperate for me huh, sweet thing? Gonna get yourself off while you suck my cock, baby?”

You want to retaliate, taunt him back, do anything to make yourself seem like more than a pathetic fucking whore for him, but you’re dripping through your panties and the friction is so, so delicious you can’t stop your movements. Warmth is beginning to pool in your stomach and you need this release. You take him as deep into your mouth as you can, his tip practically nudging the back of your throat, gagging around him. Eddie thinks he might die, seriously, this is it for him. ‘Rockstar Dies In Supply Closet With His Dick Out’ he can see the tabloid headlines now. He tugs your hair and holds your head still as he starts to fuck into your mouth, reveling in the moans and mewls you let out beneath him.

“Shit, sweetheart, you feel s’fucking good around my dick-" he grunts, throwing his head back as he picks up his pace. "Go ahead and touch yourself for me, sweet girl. I know you need more." He says roughly.

You happily let him throat-fuck you as you tug your panties down slightly, bringing a hand down to allow your fingers to rub harsh circles into your clit. You feel yourself getting closer, a coil tightening more more more as he fucks into the heat of your mouth. You can sense his movements getting erratic, and you glance up to look at his face. He's delirious, so fucked out, and you feel as if you could melt into a puddle right here at his feet as you watch him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, sweetheart, shit- you want it in your mouth?” He asks you, brown eyes blown out wide as he awaits your response.

You nod, mouth too full of him to speak, and you squeeze his heavy balls in your free hand as he thrusts faster faster faster into your mouth. He lets out a strangled moan as his cock twitches, ropes of hot cum coating your tongue. You quicken your pace on your aching clit and it doesn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap. You cum all over your fingers and Eddie's boot that still rests beneath you, as he finishes riding out his high above you. He watches you as you swallow his load and he silently swears to himself he’ll do whatever he can to have you like this more often.

“Fuck, baby, you soaked my shoes huh? You okay?” He asks you tenderly, grabbing your arms to pick you up off the floor and steady your shaking frame. You nod, collapsing against him, head pressed to his chest. The two of you stay like that for a while, listening to each others heavy breaths before Eddie finally breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry for being a dick about having you on the song, okay?” He says, his voice softer and far more unsure than you've ever heard it. “You made it better- I really fucking mean that.”

“I know I did.” you reply, shifting to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “A few more rounds of this," you gesture around the two of you, "and I think you’ll have made it up to me” you smirk at him.

“Alright, sweetheart, same place same time tomorrow?” Eddie teases, and you laugh. That’s a sound he thinks he could get used to.

•••

When the two of you walk back into the recording room, Eddie's neck littered with hickeys and mascara smudged around your eyes, no one says a damn word.

"'Honeycomb' take three anyone?" Eddie asks.

[bloodynereid]

Rulebreaker

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem!reader

a/n: there is a criminally low amount of warren fics and daisy jones & the six fics in general so I'm trying to rectify that. also I listened to the Aurora album on repeat when writing this so if you haven't listened to it already go do that. requests are open for all characters if you want to send anything in. i also love chatting with all of you so send in ur opinions or thoughts :)

tw: mentions of period typical misogyny, cigarette smoking, swearing

description: the night you met warren rojas, all of your rules fly out of the window.

Y/N: Being a female producer in the 70s was… how to put it delicately… absolute shit. But I tried my best. I had a list of rules to live by: don’t date anyone related to my job, never stay later than 7pm, always have more than one person in the room with you and never drink on the job. Not even coffee. I broke most of those rules the night I met Warren Rojas.

It was 9pm (rule break #1) and you had just finished mixing one of the last songs for an album you were going to show George tomorrow. You were about to head home with a cup of coffee (rule break #2) you had snatched from the snack room when suddenly one of the doors to the recording rooms slammed open and a whole gang of people poured out. The noise had startled you so much that the cup in your hand sloshed and hotstingburnoww the liquid fell onto your hand.

“Shit!” You had realized in the last moment that your little expletive caught the attention of the last people milling out, a curly haired guy and one of best known producers of the time, Teddy Price, otherwise known as your mentor. “Oh hey Teddy.”

“Y/N! I don’t think I’ve seen you here this late before.”

“Just had to finish mixing a song you know me.”

“Oh I do. That’s why it’s surprising.” You rolled your eyes with a smile and then looked over to the man standing next to him.

“Who’s the new band? Haven't seen them around here before.”

“The Six. This is Warren Rojas, their drummer. This is Y/N L/N, she’s one of the best producers out there.”

“You flatter me too much. It’s nice to meet you, Warren.”

“You too.”

“Either of you need a ride? I’m heading out soon.”

“Nah I’m fine. I’ll just go with the band.”

“Yeah I’ve got my bike.”

“You parked close?” Teddy asked with his usual protective tone.

“Just a 5 minute walk.”

“I would walk you but I’ve got to finish looking over some tapes.”

“I’m heading the same way. We can go over together.”

“You sure?” You asked as you took a sip from your coffee.

“Yeah, I’m sure the band can wait.”

“Great. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Bye Teddy.”

“See you.” 

You and Warren set off to navigate through the maze of recording rooms and offices. (rule break #3) He had lit up a cigarette and when he offered you one, you graciously took it, throwing out the finished coffee cup.

“So if you don’t mind me asking. Why do you call yourselves the Six if there’s only 5 of you?” Warren laughed and looked at you with a smile.

“I honestly have no idea. Something about there already being too many iconic bands with the number five in them.”

“Right well, I can’t be one to judge anyway, I can't even sing.” 

“I can’t either so I think we’re on the same playing field here.” You laughed and nudged his shoulder. So he was funny on top of being ridiculously attractive.

“So how did you get into producing?” And he wasn’t being a anti-feminist asshole, unlike SO MANY people in this industry.

“Well I liked music and I would record demos for my brothers when I could. It was honestly just pure luck. I met Teddy when I was interviewing to be a secretary here. He taught me some of the ropes and then persuaded the big bosses to hire me. I really only produce for smaller names but… it’s my passion, you know.”

“As part of a smaller name, we appreciate your help.” He said with a mischievous smile whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shush. So I guess now it’s only fair to ask how you got into The Six?”

“Well, Graham got us into this band when we were like 14 and then he persuaded his brother, Billy, to join. Then some random dude convinced us to head out here and try our luck with Teddy Price so here I am. We actually used to be called The Dunne Brothers and then we changed it for some reason, I think we all collectively decided against that name one night at a diner.”

“Well if you’re getting produced by Teddy then you have to have at least a modicum of talent.”

“Don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

“Take it as you want.” His eyes flickered under the streetlights as you made your way out onto the street. Warren Rojas has a majestic quality to him and well, he was also nice and exactly your type. Okay so maybe rule number #1 was meant to be broken.

“Warren! Hurry up man or we’re leaving without you.” A man yelled from one of the parked vans. He was leaning out of the window and pushing on the car horn.

“Well it seems my luck is still going strong cause that’s my bike.” You point at the black motorcycle that is parked next to the colorful van. He sent you a beaming smile as you both wandered over to where your separate vehicles lay.

“So will I be seeing you again?”

“We work in the same building so probably.”

“You know what I mean.” I stamped out the cigarette and winked at him.

“I might come around to see how you sound tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to be playing the drums to the best of my ability.”

“I'm sure you’re supposed to be doing that anyway.” You smirked at him as swung your jean clad leg over the motorcycle and twisted the key in the ignition.

“Warren!”

“Yeah yeah, one second. Give me your arm.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re really pretty and I want to give you my number.”

“How do you know I’ll use it?”

“I’m taking a gamble.”

“It seems like you take a lot of those.” 

You held out your arm anyways and let him scribble down his number in black ink. Your helmet went over your head after he finished and you looked down at the list of numbers with a little heart next to them. So he was a sap as well.

“I’ll be seeing you, Warren Rojas.”

“I sure hope so, Y/N L/N.” You smiled and gave him a little wave before revving off. But not before you heard a last: “Warren! What the hell man I’m starving over here.” Which made you chuckle.

Y/N: I ended up going to that recording session the next day. And the next and the next. Teddy even let me mix a few of the songs. I also wrote down his number immediately after I got home. I’m pretty sure I still have the receipt where it’s written on somewhere. Anyways I ended up breaking that first rule after the tour. Warren asked me out when we were surfing. Actually I was surfing and Warren was trying to. God that was a beautiful day.

Warren: The sun was just about to set and I had given up trying to surf so Y/N and I were just sitting on our boards watching the sky turn different colors. We had been friends since that night Teddy introduced us and I was obviously attracted to her. But it was then when I realized I was in love with her. I ended up asking her to marry me at that exact same spot a few years later.

Y/N: I immediately said yes, both times. Warren and I just work. He is like a part of me I can’t bear the thought of losing.

Warren: I love her with my entire self and more. I can’t see my life any other way. I think one of the greatest things that came out of the band was not just the music but it also led me to my soulmate.

Y/N: Rule breaking is really one of the best things I could have done. I met my other half and worked with people I would consider my family. Sometimes plans just aren’t meant to be followed.

Y/N Rojas is one of the top producers in the music industry. She shared producer credits with Teddy Price on Aurora and has gone on to produce some of the biggest names in the 80s and 90s. Currently she lives on a houseboat with her husband, Warren, the former drummer of Daisy Jones & The Six and their twins, Teddy and Karen. She owns a music label (Reconstitution Records) which will be producing the newest album of the reunited band, Daisy Jones & The Six.

hopefully I did Warren justice cause it's my first time writing for him

taglist: (lmk if you want to be added to the warren taglist or general daisy jones & six taglist)

@pinkdaiisies @just1riqht

[leclerc-s]

track 005. jugaste y sufrí

─── ❝ yo ya no quiero sufrir, quiero ser feliz ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

lando norris so i guess oscar unknowingly became a dad??

ollie bearman why is that where you brain immediately goes?

mae jones his brain needs to be studied under a microscope.

checo perez can i leave now?

dulce perez si yo tengo que sufrir tú también tío! checo perez ya me voy. daniel jones-ricciardo unless austin shows up in texas or vegas. checo perez mierda.

fernando alonso sergio! there are children here!

bailey winters have any of you tried locking them in a closet?

penelope trevino hmm. that might work.

ollie bearman what she needs is therapy. sebastian literally said she was afraid of falling in love. AUSTIN MADE HER CRY IN MIAMI!

arthur leclerc she would've cried over anything. she's an emotional person.

dulce perez have you see the group picture? max verstappen she was crying over tangled.

daphne jones-ricciardo i cry over tangled too. it's a beautiful movie.

pierre gasly that's because you are rapunzel and daniel is flynn rider.

arthur leclerc but yes, she does need therapy.

logan sargeant has anyone seen oscar? we were supposed to meet up for lunch?

oscar piastri i forgot sorry. logan sargeant YOU DITCHED ME?

max verstappen go have lunch with zoya or something.

zoya torres what the fuck? why are you signing me up for things? max verstappen if you show up one more time to my apartment crying over your ex and hoping to steal my cats were going to have problems. zoya torres it was only twice. mae jones it's been 7, he started keeping track. there is a board on our fridge and everything.

dulce perez hey, you know who else is missing?

daniel ricciardo-jones SHUT UP!

ollie bearman she's with me!

isabella perez i am not missing dulce! i told tio checo where i was going

logan sargeant oh it must be nice to not get ditched by your friends. i wouldn't know BECAUSE OSCAR'S A TRAITOR!

oscar piastri how exactly is it my fault that thing 1 and thing 2 showed up at my hotel room at 6:30 in the morning and dragged me out to breakfast?

ollie bearman you're lucky it was 6:30 isa dragged me out of bed at 6. isabella perez WE LITERALLY MADE PLANS THE NIGHT BEFORE OLIVER!

fernando alonso i was unaware isabella and oscar had acquired a grid child

oscar piastri bella has a grid child not me. i don't want him ollie bearman you're a horrible father. ollie bearman i hope you dnf in monaco oscar piastri i'm not your dad! ollie bearman good. i wouldn’t want you as my father. you’re horrible and you suck! isabella perez oh great, now you've made him sad oscar!

oscarpiastri, isabellaperez, and olliebearman posted new stories

i'm going to die with her behind the wheel. that smile is plotting murder. what is it with drivers and showing up in team gear to everything? they will also sleep anywhere, as shown by ollie. i feel like i'm interrupting something.

alex albon did you or did you not go out on a date with oscar?

isabella perez no, i did not go out on a date with oscar.

george russell i call bullshit! i saw ollie’s story! esteban ocon i agree.

charles leclerc wasn’t she out with oscar and ollie? how is that a date?

pierre gasly aww a family date! isabella perez i’m going to murder you gasly

natalia ruiz boys, leave her alone.

isabella perez it wasn’t a date! ollie was there!

alex albon which means if ollie wasn’t there it totally would’ve been a date

lewis hamilton when will the day come where all of you learn to mind your own business?

pierre gasly pretty much never

mae jones isa, it was a fucking date if i’ve ever seen one. trust me on this one.

isabella perez yes, i'll take advice from the people who had a fwb relationship, a situationship, and someone who broke up with her ex because she was afraid.

isabella perez really the only one's who should be giving me advice are esteban, george, alex, and lewis.

pierre gasly you're mean sometimes.

mae jones and for the record i wasn't afraid!

alex albon explain things i wish you said? charles leclerc or you're losing me? esteban ocon or exile? mae jones OKAY I GET IT!

sooo, how'd the date go?

it wasn't a date logan.

oh sure and ollie wasn't third wheeling the two of you.

he wasn't?

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST HAVE YOU SEEN HIS STORY?? YOU ARE IN L-O-V-E!!

how can i be in love?? i barely know her

okay, fine, you have a crush on her.

no, i don't.

yes, you do. i know you pastry!

you don't know shit. i don't have a crush on her.

oscar, either i'm fucking blind or you're stupid but you, my australian friend, have a massive crush on her.

fuck off

no, i don't

sure buddy, and i'm not from miami

but you are?

exactly my point.

logan sargeant he's got the l-word

lando norris leprosy??

daniel jones-ricciardo how the fuck did your mind go to leprosy?

lando norris bailey and i watched ice age last night.

bailey winters max, you're performance in that movie was amazing

max verstappen i will take lando out.

pierre gasly the way his season's going he'll take himself out first. lando norris literally fuck you gasly. i know you and esteban are going to take each other out at least once this season.

logan sargeant OSCAR'S IN LOVE!!

arthur leclerc WITH WHO?? logan sargeant i cannot believe that sentence just came out of your brain.

dulce perez my sister i assume??

logan sargeant well, it's more like a crush but that counts right??

daphne jones-ricciardo and you came to this conclusion how?

logan sargeant denial is always the first sign, no?

carlos sainz it is like lando when he said he wasn't in love with bailey! lando norris we are not talking about me.

isabellaperez posted a new story

paddock dad isabella, are you okay?

super max are you depressed? honey badger did austin call again?

duckling i'm okay. i think.

duckling i'm feeling things. i don't know if they're good or bad.

paddock dad therapy helps. duckling so i've heard.

super max good things or bad things?

duckling I DON'T KNOW!!

duckling feels are hard. i don't want them anymore.

paddock dad sorry kid, you're stuck with them forever. duckling SEB! MAKE THEM GO AWAY!! paddock dad i can't isa. you have to face them.

duckling here's a thought, what if i don't? i could ignore them, they'll go away eventually.

super max you've already tried that isa. it's not working out that great for you.

honey badger already tried that kiddo. maybe it's time to talk to someone?

duckling i'll call my mom!

paddock dad that's better than one of us.

isabellaperez posted new stories

my mother won't answer the phone, who's more important than me?? her baby?? her pride and joy??

nothing like a good ole lana song to cry too.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @lorenaskaspersen @sarah-thatstings-ann @My-fangirling-outlet

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! OLLIE IN F1!! LET'S GOO!! i also couldn't help myself including that ice age joke. does this qualify as angst?? i don't think so? this has also been sitting in my drafts for ages.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Niel!

My book club and I just finished reading Stardust! I listened to the audiobook (great job on the recording by the way) and was wondering about some of your inspiration for the book. Was howls moving castle by Diana Wynne Jones an inspiration?

Also do you have any book club recommendations? We read mainly sci-fi and fantasy

Thank you!

(ps I loved American gods)

No, but both Diana and I loved John Dunne's poem "A Song" which begins "Go, and catch a fallen star..."

Why not read some Diana Wynne Jones for your book club? Every one of them is a winner.

[its-wabby-stuff]

So everyone’s been punching back for @somerandomdudelmao post. If you know, you know, and if you don’t where have you been? And I saw one of the reblog’s today of Casey and Donnie and it got the cogs in my brain running. So here is a potentially possible outcome for the future:

———————

Here’s the thing. Casey knew the fight was over. They had won and the Krang weren’t here anymore. Of course, the entire event hadn’t come without its own consequences. Most of downtown New York had been destroyed. People had been injured and people had died. The government had stepped in to take care of most of the tragedy. And the event itself made international news.

But Casey didn’t care about most of that. He wasn’t even sure what most of it meant, just the ramblings he heard from the family as they recovered. They hadn’t left the lair since that day. They couldn’t afford too. The city was in a state of panic, and all of them had sustained injuries, the worst of which being Leonardo.

He had been asleep for days. It was vital for recovery, Casey knew, but the whole thing made him incredibly nervous. Casey felt like a little kid again, sitting on a chair with his knees up to his chest, just watching him. Donatello rarely left Leo’s side either. His own injuries meant he needed attention, and with Leo out, he had the best medical expertise on the machines they’d hooked him up too. Casey often asked questions, which Donnie was eager to answer. That much was the same.

Casey had long since changed out of his resistance garb, being offered a variety of clothes from each of the boys. He never let go of his mask though. That was much too important to him. Gifts and reminders from all the people he loved most.

He was alone today. With Leo. Donatello had entrusted him with enough information for any sort of emergency. But it meant he was allowed to think. He fiddled with the mask in his hands, tracing the markings he had painted on and the scratches it had received out on the field. He let his legs fall into a cross-cross as he slipped the mask onto his face and turned it on. Uncle Tello had left many tidbits of information, recordings and plans for an eventual future where we had won. Not even in his wild imaginations could he have imagined that future in the past. And now there were a million things Casey wanted answered that weren’t saved on his Uncles little device. He had a favorite file, however. One he’d rewatched a million times before.

“Is it working?” He watched Uncle Tello tilt up the camera. Behind him were all the people he loved: Sensei Leonardo, Master Michelangelo, robotic Uncle Raph, Commander O’Niel, and himself.

“It may be older than us, but it still works,” Uncle Tello replied.

“The little red light is blinking right?” Master Michelangelo flew over, looking at the camera upside down with amazement. Uncle Tello pushed him outta the way.

“Despite its primitive nature, it seems to be completely intact. Nothing askew. It’s quite impressive. Great find, Casey Jones.”

Sensei scooped up the kid and ruffled his hair.

“There’s not much storage space left on the card, so we better make it short and sweet. How about a picture? For my archives.” Everybody gathered close together as the timer started counting down. “Everybody say: Genius Built Apparel rules!!”

The video stopped there. Paused on a picture of all of them together. Casey couldn’t help but let out a couple tears, hidden by the mask. It might have been the apocalypse, but it was familiar and comforting, and here, they had all been happy.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Unc- Donatello!” Casey looked over, his view still obstructed by the photo paused on his screen. “No, no everything is fine, I was just-“ he pulled his mask off and wiped away whatever remnants of tears he had before he looked up at the turtle who had just entered the room. He didn’t have any of his tech on, using his wooden Bo staff to assist his walking, and his bandages had been covered by the presence of an oversized purple hoodie. Casey stared at him, “reliving old memories. Un- Donnie, are you feeling alright?” Casey stood up, panic ever present on the boys face.

Donnie just gave a perplexing look in response. “Are you?”

“I-“ The Krang are gone, Casey. This isn’t like when Uncle Tello got sick. This isn’t the same. There’s no way the Krang would’ve- could’ve. They couldn’t have. How would they? Tears fell down Casey’s face as he sat back down.

Donnie regretted asking the second he had. He wasn’t any good with this sort of stuff and he had clearly been crying before and now he was crying again. There was something on his mind. “I’ll go get Mikey-“

Casey grabbed Donnie’s hand, and his immediate response was to pull away, but he suppressed the urge when he felt how clammy Casey’s hands were, and how they shook just a little. “Uncle Tello, you- you aren’t going to die, are you?”

Donnie had never heard Casey call him that before. And he said it softly, and nervously, not even looking him in the eyes.

“You think a quarrel with an alien species is enough to get rid of me?”

Casey didn’t say anything. In fact what Donnie said didn’t seem to help the situation any at all. And Donnie was starting to put all the little pieces together. Something had happened to him in the future. Something not good.

“Casey, did something happen to me in the future? Did-“ he wasn’t sure if he should ask it but his curiosity took ahold of him, “did I die?”

Casey lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Donnie. Which was a surprising response, but all he needed to know the answer was yes. Despite how quickly it had happened, Casey was incredibly gentle about it. His hands still shook a little as he rested his head into Donnie’s chest.

Honestly, Donnie was a little upset by all this new information. He hadn’t survived the apocalypse, and he had been close to Casey Jones, who had to witness his death. He couldn’t imagine how crazy this entire week had been for Casey. Donnie still wasn’t sure what exactly caused this reaction from him, but slowly, he leaned down, grabbing around Casey’s back and hugging tightly.

Casey let out a breath and hugged tighter, absolutely collapsing, shaking incredibly and crying into Donnie’s favorite purple hoodie. Keep it together, the hoodie can always be washed. For once, Donnie didn’t need to wonder what to do, because this felt like enough. And no words needed to be said.

Only in Casey’s wildest dreams was he able to hug Uncle Tello again. He knew Donnie was never a big fan of physical affection but he’d always seemed to make an exception for him. Old or young, and for a minute it didn’t matter that this wasn’t the Donnie he knew. It didn’t matter that they were now the same age, or that Casey was actually taller. Or how he could feel Donnie loosening and trying to end it. No matter how long this moment was, it would never be long enough.

———————

Ahahaha. I don’t even know. Thanks for reading. Likes and Reblogs appreciated!!

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 1

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Taglist: @christinabae@southerngirl41@reci24@jeyusos-girl@jeyusosgirl@melaninsugababy@baconeggndcheez@bemybabiibish@jstarr86@nbanenefrmdao@purplehairgawdess@arination99@alyyaanna@m3llowww@gomussy@jeysbae@hennyyybarb@babysyhsy @bebesobrielo @jeysbae @empressdede

gif credit: @laknxght

AIRIELLEJONES

liked by aliyahwwe, candicelerae, trinity_fatu, rhearipley_wwe and 170,000 others.

AirielleJones: Friday Nights just got 100 times hotter ❤️

view all comments

aliyahwwe: congrats bby i'll miss u 😢

user: hope she replaces @kaylabraxtonwwe

AirielleJones: ew blocked. we don't do that here

`shotziwwe: noooo please don't leave us 😭

SEPTEMBER 4th 2020

Airielle Jones smiled to herself as she looked around the backstage area. After working her ass off for two years down at NXT she was finally getting an opportunity to showcase her talents on the main roster. 

“Airielle?” She looked over when she heard her name being called. “I’m Kayla. Nice to meet you.” Kayla said, shaking Airielle’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

“So Paul said you can shadow me for the day and tomorrow you’ll do Talking Smack with me.” Airielle didn’t think it was possible for her smile to get any bigger. 

“Oh wow. Hopefully I won’t be in your way.” She said and Kayla waved her off. 

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, follow me.” Kayla had Airielle follow her around backstage, introducing her to passing superstars and upper management that Airielle had yet to meet. 

“So I have a segment to film with Sheamus and then one with Jey Uso at the end of the night. Have you met either of them yet?”Kayla said as A.J Styles just walked away from them and  Airelle shook her head. 

“No, I've met his twin though. I’m good friends with his wife.” 

“Oh. You know Trin?” Airielle nodded. “How?” 

“We go to the same hair salon in Pensacola.” 

“Oh wow, Small world.” Kayla said and beckoned Airielle to follow her. 

Airielle watched in awe as Kayla recorded her segment with Sheamus. She couldn’t wait until she was able to do what she loved. 

“Hey kid.” She smiled at Hunter when he walked over to her. 

“Hi. Mr Levesque.” She said, shaking his hand in greeting. 

“Please call me Paul. How you like the main roster?” He gestured around and Airielle nodded with a nervous chuckle. 

“It’s awesome. Gonna take some getting used to thought.” She said and he laughed, giving her a pat on the back. 

“You’re gonna do great, kid.” He said giving her one last smile before walking away. 

Kayla led Airielle around backstage showing her around the Amway Center when they bumped into Jey Uso. 

“Oh, hey Jey,. This is Airielle, Airielle this is Jey.” Kayla said and Airielle held her hand out. 

“Nice to meet you Jey.” She said, smiling at him. Josh was hooked, instantly. The second she smiled at him he was a goner. He realized he must’ve been staring at her because she slowly put her hand down, arched an eyebrow at him and turned her head to look at Kayla. 

“Shit, I zoned out. My bad.” He said, clearing his throat and giving them an awkward laugh “I’m Josh.” He said and she laughed. 

“Nice to meet you.” She said again waving bye and she and Kayla started to walk away from him. Josh groaned to himself as he watched her walk away. She was definitely gonna be trouble. 

Airielle and Kayla were sitting in The Gorilla position, watching the main event of the show when Paul walked over to them. 

“Hey kid, you got the post match.” He said to Airielle and her eyes widened. Paul laughed at the look on her face. “You don’t mind right?” He asked Kayla and she shook her head no. 

“Absolutely not. I’ll help her get ready.” She said and Paul nodded. 

“Good Luck,” he said giving her a thumbs up  before walking off. 

It was almost time for Airielle to go out and do the post match interview. There weren’t any fans but she was still nervous. 

Kayla sensed her nervousness and grabbed her hand giving it a squeeze. “Girl, you got this, don't worry.” Airielle nodded and followed a stage hand to the side entrance of the ramp. Airielle watched as Jey- Josh hit the uso splash and pinned Matt Riddle for the 3-count.  She and Josh made eye contact as she made her way into the ring. 

“Congratulations Jey.” She said smiling. “You have earned your opportunity for the universal championship against your cousin Roman Reigns, at Clash of Champions. How important was this victory for you?” She held the microphone close to him so he could answer. 

Josh looked at her and his mind went blank. He blinked trying to refocus himself. He said the only thing that came to mind.  “Yes, sir!” He yelled out twice. “Hey big dog! I made the family proud, too. But guess what, Roman Reigns its locked down! Welcome…. You know the rest.” He said winking at her as his theme music played. 

“You did good.” Kayla said, hugging her. “Sorry I'm a hugger.” Kayla said as she pulled away from Airielle. 

“It’s okay and thank you. I don’t know why I was so nervous.” 

“Girl, you were a natural out there. So um, we film "Talking Smack" tomorrow morning nine am sharp. Meet me in the underground parking lot at eight.” Airielle nodded and gave Kayla one last hug before walking out of the arena and towards her rental. 

SEPTEMBER 5th 2020

Airielle rushed towards Kayla. “I’m sorry I’m late.” It was 8:30 am. “I’m still getting used to being up this early.” 

“It’s only thirty minutes. You’re good.” Kayla said and motioned for Airielle to follow her into the arena. “Woods is joining us today. Have you met him?” Airielle nodded. “Cool, we have Shinsuke, Cesaro, Alexa and Jey as guests today.” Airielle nodded again and continued to listen to Kayla as she went over how the show was going to happen. 

“Oh hey, Airielle’s here.” Xavier Woods said, causing Josh to look up from his phone and towards Airielle and Kayla. “Have you met her yet?” Josh groaned and nodded. 

“Yeah, made a complete ass outta myself.” He said, sucking his teeth when Woods started laughing at him. “It ain't funny Uce. I felt like an idiot just standing staring at her.” He rolled his eyes and pushed Woods away from him when he continued to laugh. “I’ll see you later.” Josh said, flipping Woods off as he walked away.

Airielle felt at home as she talked with Kayla, Woods, and Alexa during the Talking Smack taping. She felt like she actually belonged. Alexa had just left the panel and it was time to bring Josh in. 

“Well we have one more guest to join us right now.” She said looking between Kayla and Woods. 

“Right and I’ve used the word easy, but you know what’s not easy.” Kayla chimed in. “When you have to go head-on with family and that's what this guy will be doing come-” She was cut off as Josh came into the shot spraying the three of them with silly string. 

Airielle laughed as Woods started yelling about the string getting stuck in his hair. She started to pull the string out of her hair as Kayla started to talk about what happened the night before on Smackdown. She noticed that Josh was trying his hardest to not look in her direction and frowned before she remembered that she was on camera and plastered a smile on her face. She zoned back into the conversation when it was her turn to talk. 

“So let's say you go on the clash of champions and you become our new universal champion.” Airielle started and Josh felt his heart start to beat faster at the sound of her voice. “What’s your plan?” Their eyes met for the first time that day  and once again Josh was stuck. All thoughts flew out of his head. He snapped back once Woods kicked his leg under the table. He ignored the weird looks Kayla and Woods were giving him and answered Airielle’s question. 

“Real talk I can’t even rap that around my head. I aint never looked at me as no, real talk I ain't never thought about the big title. Never thought about a IC title, US title. It was always tryna chase yall.” He said pointing towards Woods. “It was always about beating y’alls record. I love the New Day. It was always eyes on the tag team titles. But now it’s like oh.” He stopped and smiled. “I can do it, you know.” 

She watched as he talked about how much winning the title would mean to him and she couldn’t help but smile, he was so passionate about wrestling, it was adorable to see. 

“That was so much fun.” Airielle said to Kayla once filming was done. Wood and Josh said goodbye before leaving Airielle and Kayla still sitting at the table. 

“Yeah, it was.” Kayla said with a frown on her face. 

“Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?” Kayla looked over at Airielle and placed her hands overtop of hers. 

“No, you were fantastic. It’s just..” She paused and looked around before sliding her chair closer to Airielle. “Can you keep a secret?” Airielle leaned closer to Kayla and nodded. 

“Did Josh seem off to you? I mean I know you just met him, but..” Kayla sighed. Airielle shrugged, 

“I mean, maybe he was nervous about something. Is.. is he your boyfriend?” 

“No, I mean we.. you know, and went on some dates but we haven’t made anything official. We’re keeping it on the low.” Airielle nodded but she didn’t know what to say. She was slightly disappointed because she found Josh to be extremely attractive but it didn’t matter because she had promised herself  that she would not jeopardize her job for a quick fuck with one of these superstars. 

Clash Of Champions 2020

AIRIELLEJONES

liked by kaylabraxtonwwe, carmellawwe, trinity_fatu and 180,000 others

AirielleJones: Siri, play Beyoncé "Freakum Dress"

view all comments

user: 🥵

yasmine_jones: yasss! step on they fuvkin necks 😍

user: she just keeps blessing the TL

Airielle had been on the main roster for about 4 weeks now and she honestly couldn’t have been any happier. Sure she missed some of her friends from NXT but being on Smackdown had opened up way more opportunities for her than being on NXT. 

She was walking towards catering when she heard someone call out her name. She smiled when she saw that it was Kayla who called her name. She walked over and was immediately pulled into a hug. 

“First PLE. Are you excited?” Kayla asked and Airielle nodded with a nervous chuckle. She was about to respond when someone else called her name. 

“Airielle?! I missed you” Airielle smiled brightly at Trinity and rushed over to give her a hug. “Damn, look at you. I gotta come raid ya closet girl. “ 

Josh was walking around the arena with Jon looking for Trinity. 

“What the point of having a damn phone if she ain’t gon’ answer it.” Jon grumbled as he pressed Trinity’s name on his phone again, cursing her when her voicemail picked up again. “Why you so quiet Josh? You nervous?” 

“Hell yeah I'm nervous. I aint never have a opportunity like this before Uce. What if I screw it up.” 

“Man shut up.” He said, laughing when Josh stopped walking and glared at him. 

“What-” 

“Shut up. You and big uce gon go out there and kill it. Stop worrying.”  Josh nodded and took a deep breath. “You got this Uce.”  Jon said as he pulled his brother into a hug.  “Now help me find my wife.” 

They started walking again towards catering. That was the only place left to check. Jon cursed as he bumped into his brother almost knocking himself over. “Damn, what the f-” 

“I found her.” Josh said lowly nodding his head over to where Trinity was standing, talking to Airielle and Kayla. Jon started to limp his way over but stopped when he noticed his brother wasn't following him. 

“You coming?”  Josh shook his head, 

“Nah, imma stay right here.” He said ignoring the look his twin was giving him. “I just don’t want to go over there.” He said avoiding his brother's eyes. 

“Josh, stop playing and come on.” Jon rolled his eyes when Josh didn’t move. He hobbled over to his wife. “TRIN!” He yelled. She jumped, turning to face him. “Why you not answering ya phone man.” He said, rolling his eyes at her. “Sup Kayla.” He said fist bumping her and turned his attention to Airielle. “Oh shit. I know you.” He said, causing her to laugh. 

“Hi, Jon. Nice to see you again.” She said, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were with Josh?” Trin asked and Jon nodded and pointed behind him where Josh was waiting down the hall. 

“I was, he acting weird.” All the girls looked down the hall towards Josh whose eyes widened when he saw them looking at him. Airielle looked at Kayla out of the corner of her eye and saw that she was now looking down at her heels with a sad look on her face. 

I’ll see y’all later. Don’t forget to text me when you get back to Pensacola.” Trinity told Airielle. 

“Hey you okay?” Airielle asked once Trin and Jon walked away from them. Kayla shrugged. 

“I mean.” She sighed. “He’s been ignoring me. He won’t tell me what’s going on.” 

“Well honestly fuck him. If he’s ghosting you it’s his loss.” She said, pulling Kayla into a hug. 

Josh, Jon and Trinity were now in Joe’s locker room, as Josh and Joe got ready for the show. 

“Is everything okay with you and Kayla?” Trin asked once Josh sat down on the couch next to her. Josh arched his eyebrow and shrugged. 

“Yeah why?”  

“She was the reason why you didn’t come over earlier with Jon right?” She narrowed her eyes at him when he avoided her eyes and bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Josh..” 

Josh cleared his throat and shrugged. “Yeah, me and Kay cool. I mean we not together though but..” He shrugged again, trailing off. Trinity studied him then let out a gasp. 

“What about Airielle?” She asked and he choked on the water he was sipping. 

“What happened?” Josh rolled his eyes and sunk lower into the couch. 

“Nothing happened, he just made an ass outta himself.” Joe said, overhearing their conversation. Josh sucked his teeth and glared over at his older cousin. “You ain’t see talking smack from a couple weeks ago? Man was stuck the second she started talking to him.”

“Josh got a crush.”

“I’m a grown ass man, I ain’t got no damn crush.” He said, rolling his eyes when they all laughed at him. 

First chapter of the rewrite. I hope you guys like it

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

[riality-check]

daisy jones-adjacent au. part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. tw substance abuse, ptsd, references to past torture (canon, the russians.) part 7.

ao3

Writing the album is, somehow, the easy part, even after Steve put his foot in his mouth.

He had his suspicions, but he shouldn't have asked that. It was a dick move, and he's been trying not to be a dick for the past few years. So, he apologized and didn't bring it up again.

Eddie softened after that. Like he wasn't expecting Steve to apologize. He accepted it, and things have been good since.

Well, more than good, if Steve's being honest. Things have gotten a lot better since.

He's noticed a few things, even after their permanently discontinued game of "truth or truth." Mostly, the things Steve has noticed have been about Eddie, like:

He laughs at the dumbest things.

He quotes books and movies constantly.

He has an accent that he masks unless he's tired.

He hates strong smells.

He deflects by becoming bigger.

There's more. A lot more that Steve has noticed, but listing everything about Eddie's brilliance and stubbornness, his courage and obnoxiousness, his gorgeous face and sharp tongue would take all day. Steve has noticed a lot over these few weeks spent hunched over instruments and notebooks at his house, and he thinks Eddie has noticed him in return.

He hopes so.

It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be noticed beyond the superficial adoration of fans. It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be known.

There are a plethora of reasons for why that's a bad idea. Steve is able to forget them momentarily when he sees Eddie smile.

All too soon, after far too long, they're done writing. They start recording, and that is the hard part.

It always is. There's always something wrong with the levels or slightly out of tune, or someone sneezes right into the mic on the first good take. There's things that work and things that don't, and, always, songs on paper that have to get fixed before they can be songs on the radio.

The album has good bones, though. It's angry and hopeful and scared and sad and triumphant. It's music, it's art, it's life.

And once they can make it work, it's going to be great.

That's what Steve is doing now. Making it work. He's awake at 4 AM on a Tuesday, sitting at a piano and trying to rework the bass line to stop it from clashing so much with the melody.

The only good thing about this situation is that he's made it to seventy three hours awake for the first time, courtesy of a well-timed line right before he got to work.

If it keeps working, he might trash the pills entirely.

He plays the introduction to the song again on his right hand and starts adding low notes on his left. As it is, it sounds empty. To much distance. But if he raises it a fourth-

"Steve?"

He freezes, fighting back against the instinct to jump away from the piano like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He forgot that the band has been crashing at his house - it's close to the studio and he has the rooms to spare - and because he forgot that he wasn't alone, he failed to remember that most people aren't awake at this hour, nevermind working.

So, he calmly turns around to see Eddie, in pajamas, standing in the doorway, blinking sleep out of his tired eyes.

Steve swallows and hopes that Eddie is too tired to catch him openly staring.

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers.

"Reworking something," Steve says. "Trying out something different for the bass line in Envy, the one that's giving us trouble."

Eddie covers his mouth to yawn. "Couldn't sleep?"

Steve wonders when the last time he thought that was a bad thing was.

"I can be quieter," he says. "I was just trying to fix this. But that can wait until morning."

"Steve," Eddie says, and he's got that look on his face.

Steve hates that look.

Eddie looks at him like he can see inside his skull, inside his heart, and read his DNA letter by letter. He looks at him like he can see everything about Steve: past, present, and future.

And there's pity in every second of it.

Steve can't stand pity.

"I just- I gotta see the whole picture, you know?" he continues so Eddie doesn't get to voice that pity. "And you guys all have your instruments, but piano gives me everything. I can play the bass and the guitar and sing and- I'm just able to get it better that way. Where are you going?"

Eddie is almost out the door again. "I- I can't be here, Steve."

"Why? Are you tired? You can go-"

"You're high, and I know that if you offer me something, I won't say no."

Oh.

"Eddie, I wouldn't-"

"And even if you don't, if you take something in front of me, I know I'll ask for some," he says, like it's a fact, the same way the sky is blue.

"I'm not- I wouldn't do that to you," Steve says. No point in denying that he's high, not when they both know it. "I wasn't- I'll get off the piano. I'll read, or, well, reread something instead."

He gestures aimlessly at the bookshelf on the wall near the door. It's crammed full of recommendations from Dustin and Robin and Erica and Nancy. All of them have been read at least once, most of them twice.

"You like to read?" Eddie asks.

"No, I hate it," Steve says, completely genuinely.

Eddie huffs out a quiet laugh. "I will never understand you."

"I know."

Because that's the thing. No one can understand it, can understand him, unless they were in Hawkins, Indiana, too. Unless they saw what he did. Unless they signed the same NDAs. Unless they fought the same monsters and went to the same other world and endured the same things.

Eddie, like most other people, will never be able to understand.

So, his smile fades as he stands there in the doorway, confused.

"I like stories, but I hate reading," Steve explains. "I just do it to fill-"

"I can read to you."

Steve stops mid-word. "What?"

"If you want to hear the story without reading," Eddie says. "I like reading. I can read to you."

Steve has spent seventy four hours, at this point, awake. He is sitting at a piano bench at 4 AM on a Tuesday, high on cocaine, and is staring at a hot guy his age who, over the past few weeks, has alternated between seemingly hating him and smiling that smile.

Forgive him for making the stupid decision to say-

"Okay."

Eddie smiles, though it's tired. He takes a book from the shelf at random and walks out the door. Steve has no choice but to follow, back to the guest room Eddie has taken as his own.

Eddie turns on the bedside lamp and lays down underneath the rumpled sheets.

"Come on," he says, patting the space next to him. "I don't bite."

"You sure?" Steve jokes, but he climbs on alongside him, careful not to touch.

He really wants to touch.

He's not thinking straight.

Eddie cracks the book open and starts reading in a low whisper.

Steve can barely understand what he's saying, but that doesn't matter. What matters is Eddie's voice, quiet and rough and breathy. What matters is Eddie's voice, steady and soothing.

It's nice. It's really nice.

Steve finds himself curling up, closer and closer, until his head is on Eddie's chest.

His eyes slip closed at hour seventy-five.

And the next thing he knows, he's standing with his back to a corner, holding a metal, foldable music stand in front of him, with a voice hoarse from screaming.

Clearly, he fell asleep.

Fantastic.

Sometimes, he's able to tell what the nightmare was before he actually remembers it. It's all in the little habits he's developed.

When he finds himself checking to see if all his fingernails are still attached to his hands, blinking nonexistent blood out of his left eye, and still murmuring Robin's name, he knows that this one had to be about the Russians.

And then the memory of the bone saw, of the screaming, of taking hit after hit after hit crashes into him so hard he almost doubles over.

He reminds himself he's safe. That he's unharmed. That Robin is safe in her dorm at UCLA. That they never got Dustin or Erica.

That all of this is fucking useless.

He's gotten it all out. He's written song after song about all of it, all of the monsters and the fighting and the fear and the good in spite of it all. He writes and plays and sings close enough to all of it to almost break the NDAs.

And none of it is of any use at all because, years later, Steve still can't fucking sleep.

He swallows. Swallows again. Tries to breathe, even if it's in the form of great, heaving gasps.

And that's when he realizes that Eddie is standing right in front of him. Clearly confused, clearly terrified.

This is why, though he can never understand Steve, he shouldn't know him, either. This is why Steve can't reach out and touch.

Because even if he could explain it to Eddie, even if he would lie and say he believed him and understood, no one wants someone who can't make it through a night without waking up at least three times. No one wants to have to calm someone down from weekly screaming fits brought on by the back of their eyelids.

"Get out," he says.

"Steve," Eddie says, and there's that pity again.

Steve can't stand pity.

"Get out!" he shouts, heedless of the fact that he's probably waking everyone else up, that this is the room Eddie is staying in.

He can go to Steve's room. Everything in there is hidden, so he can't break his sobriety unless he snoops.

Steve hopes he doesn't snoop. He doesn't want to drag Eddie down to where he's at.

Eddie nods and makes his way to the door. Before he leaves, he stops and looks back.

"I don't know what you're running from," he whispers. "But when it catches you-"

"What?" Steve snaps.

"Let someone know."

If Steve were in a better state of mind, he'd ask what the hell that meant. But he's shaking and tired, so goddamn tired, that he watches Eddie go.

He sits on the floor, in the corner, still holding the music stand. The sun is up. It streams through the windows along with the sounds of birds chirping.

And Steve wonders how he's supposed to live the rest of his life like this.

He makes it an hour before he falls asleep sitting up on the floor. He makes it two more before he wakes himself up again, checking his fingernails.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

They killed our Jesus: A Lament for Generation Jones

Two things happened in 1980 that would ensure the iron grip of the fascist state would (first slowly, then quickly), tighten on the entirety of the nation's populace from that moment forward: Ronald fucking Reagan was installed as president, and a CIA-psyop'd Christian Nationalist shot and killed John Lennon.

Those two things are connected.

First let's look at exactly who "Generation Jones" encompasses, and specific moments in the generational timeline that defined our future. The wiki page is actually quite good. Here's an excerpt that really hits it on the head:

"The name "Generation Jones" has several connotations, including a large anonymous generation, a "keeping up with the Joneses" competitiveness and the slang word "jones" or "jonesing", meaning a yearning or craving.[17][18][19] Pontell suggests that Jonesers inherited an optimistic outlook as children in the 1960s, but were then confronted with a different reality as they entered the workforce during Reaganomics and the shift from a manufacturing to a service economy, which ushered in a long period of mass unemployment. Mortgage interest rates increased to above 12 percent in the mid-eighties,[20] making it virtually impossible to buy a house on a single income. De-industrialization arrived in full force in the mid-late 1970s and 1980s; wages would be stagnant for decades, and 401Ks replaced pensions, leaving them with a certain abiding "jonesing" quality for the more prosperous days of the past.

Generation Jones is noted for coming of age after a huge swath of their older brothers and sisters in the earlier portion of the Baby Boomer population had; thus, many note that there was a paucity of resources and privileges available to them that were seemingly abundant to older Boomers. Therefore, there is a certain level of bitterness and "jonesing" for the level of doting and affluence granted to older Boomers but denied to them.[21]"

That sets the stage, for the most part. I was four when JFK was shot on TV. I was a wide-eyed, open-eared five year old when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan and The Supremes were on the radio. I was ten when we landed on the moon, and I wanted to be a hippie at Woodstock at eleven. "Basketball Jones" came out when I was 12...I jonesed for a telescope because SPACE and got one from that great maker of fine telescopes, KMart.

Generationally, we jonesed to be ten years older, so we could have had all the cool shit THEY had. They had The Beatles, and we had the solo Beatles, they had Hendrix, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, and we had the fucking BeeGees and disco. It's like we, as a generation, were fated to live The K-Mart Knockoff of Life, instead of the bright, shiny Brand Name One all our older brothers and sisters got.

MUSIC and SCIENCE were EVERYTHING to us as kids/teens...the Eshittification Of Music truly began in 1973, and proceeded through SynthPop Hell in the '80s. Rock and Roll heroes became hairdos with guitars. The rock heroes of the '60s were getting married and having kids and baking bread. AM Radio ceased to be something you listened to for music...it began to replace music with strident, screaming hate voices that would eventually engulf all of AM Radio 24/7/365.

We were continually thwarted most of the way from our young adulthood on, blatantly from the moments in 1980 that the vile Ronald Reagan and the core operatives of evil for the next 50 years took over, and then the moment of what I call "Our Generational Wounding", the murder of John Lennon.

Back in '66, John had inflamed all the grandpas of todays magats by saying (truthfully) that with teens, The Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Beatle hate became a Very Big Thing in Bumfuck South Texas. Record burnings, merchandise burnings, book burnings, all were commonplace. A very palpable, and very specifically "Anti-Beatle" hate got instilled in a lot of kids/teens at that point, so anything to do with the Beatles was taboo for "good people" (read Southern Baptists) to like.

That, of course, made me love them that much more, and to follow their paths from their breakup forward with 'bated breath, buying every 45 they put out, trying to save pennies up to buy their albums.

John was the radical hippie, the one who wanted peace, the one with the weirdo wife, the one who held a "Bed-In" for peace. In a very fundamental-to-our-generation way, John Lennon was OUR "Jesus".

Richard Nixon (president from '68 to '74) HATED him.

In 1971, there was a true mass consciousness that incorporated us along with our older siblings, a musical mass consciousness. I became aware of many things in 1969, specifically fall of '69, so I was experiencing all this in real-time, as it happened. When the news that The Beatles officially broke up came across the AM radiowaves in May of '70, it was A. Very. Big. Deal. Everyone watched everything they did from that point on with GREAT interest.

George put out "My Sweet Lord" and "What Is Life" (first record I ever bought), John put out "Instant Karma", "Mother", then "Power To The People", then "Imagine". Ringo put out "It Don't Come Easy", and Paul & Linda had "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey". EVERYBODY was a "post-breakup Beatle critic", panning Paul's very first solo 45 "Another Day", "Uncle Albert" was the followup. This band called Badfinger that sounded suspiciously like The Beatles appeared on American radio, and would make 1972 one of the final "Golden Years" of AM Rock Radio.

In 1970 we heard about this Elton John guy, by the end of '72, I was playing as many of his songs on the piano as I could figure out. My favorite album was (still is) "Madman Across The Water". When "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" came out in '73, a very noticeable shift was occuring.

Pop became much less political. It softened. It mellowed. It grew its hair long and lived in the country, learned how to grow potatoes and play the mandolin, making Country Rock the one lasting "legacy" of our sad sub-generation. By the time I graduated HS in May of '77, it was all there was on the radio, besides....disco. Oof.

One of my first TV memories was JFK getting shot. That was the Generational Wounding of our older brothers and sisters. When Mark Chapman (a Christian nationalist who changed the words of "Imagine" to "Imagine there's no John Lennon") shot John in December of 1980, it was the 2 in the 1-2 PUNCH done to our OUR generation. The first, of course, being the installing of Reagan and the evil Evangelical influence beginning in earnest.

It also began the buildup of the "Holy War" radical right, and an utter denial and clampdown of "hippie", of "counterculture" in general began, ensuring that John's vision of world peace would never come true, at least not on their watch. They had, effectively, killed OUR Jesus, along with our chances of the kind of security our older sibs got in spades. It also marked the unholy marriage of the evangelicals and the republican apparatus.

When Reagan got elected by virtue of the vile Newt Gingrich's 'Southern Strategy', a clampdown in earnest on the very SPIRITUAL EXISTENCE of our generation's incredible want and need, our collective JONESING for world peace began. Richard Nixon had planted the seeds. Nixon hated John Lennon with a passion. After Reagan was elected, I firmly believe Chapman was "activated" and they killed John as a Christmas present to Nixon.

It was after that, when the dream of a scientific future began to die, as well. When we were in high school, SCIENCE WAS EVERYTHING, so we wanted to be some kind of scientist "when we grew up".

I dealt with four years of college, majored in Biology, and in early 1981 realized my dream of being a Forest Ranger in Yosemite or some other national park somewhere, living in a cabin, giving talks to visitors about the biology aspects of the park....all that went POOF, almost instantaneously. My degree would get me nowhere, so I left before the end of that year and started working in record stores.

I was effectively the Cusack character in the movie about record stores, but it led to a dead end. Record stores weren't all that glamorous, and yes, the pay was dogshit. I tried working in record stores for the love of the music, while trying to BE a musician in a town FILLED OVER FLOWING with musicians, but that was quickly shat on by the beginning shrieks of late-stage capitalism.

It was like working in the record stores was my trying to keep holding onto the dream, our generation's dream...John's dream of world peace (along with my dream of being a working musician) died a pitiful death by the end of 1986.

What followed was nothing but a series of Jobs I Hated, and the beginnings of the true Jonesing for the life we'd been promised, because we didn't get the raises, the pensions, the house, the car, boat and camper, none of that shit for us. A life of being a low-paid, no-insurance drub, destined to be a life-long renter, unless a financial miracle happens.

So when people ask why we (as a generation) hate Ronald Reagan so much, let's just say I'm with Bugs on this one.

[andvys]

We’ll burn the sky | E.M.

Warnings: none yet, this is just the teaser!

Pairings: rockstar!Eddie Munson x rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: Eddie left his life in Hawkins behind to live the one he always dreamed about but there is a missing piece in his life and in his almost perfect band; you.

Author's note: Daisy Jones & the six inspired me to band au fic, so here we are. I hope you guys will like this! Also shoutout to @littledemondani thank you for helping me choose the title and for letting me rant about my ideas, you’re amazing

-

“They don’t want us.” 

“What?!” 

“They don’t want us! They don’t even want to record the album!” 

After months of pouring tears, blood and sweat into this album, their record label suddenly decided that the songs aren't good enough, that the band isn't good enough, that Eddie isn't good enough.

“We worked our asses off– what do you mean they don’t want us?!” Jeff cries, throwing his hands up as he follows Eddie, who almost ran into an old man on the sidewalk, quickly apologizing to him before he keeps on walking. 

“They said that we’re not good enough!” Eddie mumbles in annoyance, “told me to come back when we got something better to offer.”

“Not good enough? Sam loved our songs!” Gareth says as he looks at Eddie in confusion. 

“He did but apparently something is missing, the label refuses to record the album,” Eddie sighs as he halts in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips, he looks up at the blue sky and lets out a long sigh, “they said some.. some freshness is missing, whatever that is supposed to mean. Told me that there’s enough bands like ours out there already. They want something different, something new. It's too 'old fashioned'.”

Gareth stares at his best friend, shaking his head, he plops down on a bench, running his hand through his messy hair, “freshness?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows. 

Eddie clenches his jaw as he thinks of his conversation with their producer. 

‘You’re good, amazing even, your voice is great but there’s a missing piece.’

“Missing piece,” Eddie huffs, shaking his head, “he said that there’s a missing piece.” 

Jeffs stares at him, “like.. like what?” 

Eddie shrugs as the doubt begins to creep in. They all left their life in Hawkins behind, dropped everything to come out here to Los Angeles with the goal of becoming big, everyone laughed at them, told them that it would never work out, that their dreams are ridiculous but things went well, for a while. 

All four of them worked hard, they worked extra hours, saved up enough for money for them to last out here for a few months. Eddie wrote the song texts and they put all their blood and sweat into each song, hours and hours of rehearsals paid off and after a long search for a producer who was willing to work with them, they found Sam, who instantly took a liking to the boys, he gave them a chance, arranged some gigs for them before they were finally given the chance to make the album but suddenly, something is missing and they aren’t good enough anymore. 

“I don’t know, I think nothing is missing,” Gareth mumbles, “the band is perfect as it is.” 

Eddie sighs, “I don’t know.. maybe there is something missing,” he mumbles, eyes falling on the bar across the street, “I need a drink.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

-

They knock back one drink after the other, listening to the awful karaoke performances and making fun of all the singing drunk people, a distraction is what they all needed after the stressful past months and who knows, maybe they’ll find inspiration here, though Eddie doubts it. 

As entertaining as it is, Eddie can’t concentrate on it for too long. His mind goes back to the conversation with Sam. If he refuses to make the album then they can pack their things and go back home to Hawkins, pick up where they left off. Eddie would work at the garage again, Gareth and Jeff would try to get back into the community college there, Johnny would work with his dad again, they would give up their dreams and go back into a town they wanted to leave behind. 

Sure, Eddie has Wayne, all his friends and girlfriend there but Hawkins is a part of his past, something he doesn’t even want to go back to, not even for his loved ones. He is fine to go back for holidays or birthdays but that’s all. 

This is what he wants, he wants the band, he wants the concerts, the tours, the life he always dreamed of. 

But what choice does he have if the album won’t even get a chance? 

Fear fills him, anxiety takes hold of him and his hope begins to dwindle.

The music stops and only the loud chatter in the bar fills the room for a moment. Eddie stares down at his drink, ignoring the laughter of his friends. 

He downs the rest of his drink, running his hand through his messy curls, he leans back and turns to look at the stage to find a young girl reaching for the microphone. After all the old drunk men, the girl is the first female to sing tonight. He can’t see her face yet but he recognizes the band shirt, he has a similar one lying in his closet, somewhere. Clad in a short leather skirt and chunky boots, she already looks like she belongs on a stage but he doesn’t have much faith in her voice, after all, karaoke bars are just for drunk people who want to have fun, right? 

“Damn,” Gareth whistles, “she’s hot,” he says, staring at the girl. 

Jeff and Johnny chuckle but agree with him nonetheless. 

“Look at her, man,” he says to Eddie, who only shakes his head, “totally your type.” 

“I have a girlfriend,” Eddie mumbles, glaring at his friend. 

Gareth rolls his eyes, “whatever,” he mumbles, not even hiding his distaste for his best friend’s girlfriend. He never liked her and he never will. 

The One I Love by R.E.M starts playing and Eddie’s friends immediately start to bop their heads to the music. Staring at the girl with curious looks on their faces. Eddie chuckles at them, shaking his head. 

The smile falls from his lips and his eyes widen a little, both the lyrics and your voice catch his attention. He looks away from the awestruck expressions of his friends and turns to look at the singing girl, you. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, truly looks at you. 

Your eyes are closed and you hold the mic tightly in one hand as you sing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, it’s soft yet husky and low; it’s just perfect. You look like you’re in your own little world, like only you exist. 

A girl in front of the stage whistles and you crack a smile as you open your eyes to look at her and the other girls around her who are no doubt your friends. 

Eddie’s heart makes a weird jump in his chest when you look his way as you sing. Eddie can’t help but stare at you, he is in awe. The way you sing, the way you hold yourself, the way your voice seems to get prettier and prettier to him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, you sing as though it’s the only thing you are meant to do, like this stage is meant for you and the people are here just for you. You own the stage, you own the heart of all the people watching you, you stole it with just your voice. 

“Holy shit,” Jeff mumbles, he stares at the way you move your body as you sing, “she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Eddie gives him a disapproving look but then his eyes widen when he looks back at you. 

Piece. A missing piece. 

This is the missing piece. 

Your voice. 

Eddie blinks as Sam’s words echo in his mind. 

He looks back at you, watching your performance in awe. He is impressed by the way you look and sound like a professional, like you are already a famous singer and how you seem to capture everyone’s attention in this room. 

Your performance is effortless, there is not a single pretentious thing about you, you are just a natural. You are a star, born to be one.

The people in this bar cheer for you, whistling and clapping even as you get off the stage and your friends embrace you. 

“You’re a star, baby!” one of your friends yells with a slur in her voice as she smacks her lips against your cheek. 

“Damn, I wanna kiss her too,” Jeff mumbles as he watches you with dreamy eyes. 

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips as he stares at you, you blush and giggle as one of the drunk performers from before pretends to ask for an autograph. You wave him off with a chuckle before you make your way towards the bar. 

“That was one hell of a performance,” Gareth says with an impressed look on his face. 

“Yeah,” Jeff mumbles, “do you think that she’s maybe.. I don’t know, a singer already? We’re in L.A. after all, there’s plenty of singers we don’t know.” 

Johnny shrugs, “I don’t know–” he stops, raising his brows as he watches Eddie get up and walk away from his friends, “but we’re about to find out.” 

Gareth and Jeff follow his gaze to see him walking towards you. 

You smile at the bartender, thanking him after he takes your order. Your heart is still pounding in your chest from your little performance. It took you a lot of courage to sing in front of such a crowd, your friends did a good job at convincing you and cheering you on. You were nervous and anxious but the moment the music started and you began to sing, you forgot everything and everyone around you. 

You lean against the counter, smoothing down your skirt a little and brushing through your messy hair when someone comes up next to you. 

“Hi.” 

You raise your head and you feel as though you have been punched in your stomach, your breath is stolen away and goosebumps arise on your skin as you lock eyes with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you have ever seen in your life. 

He grins, showing off his pearly whites. He stretches his arm out, offering you his hand to shake, “I’m Eddie.” 

A small smile appears on your face, you take his hand, ignoring the way his touch seems to make your heart flutter in your chest. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you stare at him. You have seen him before, not up close but.. Oh! 

“Eddie,” you smile, “from Corroded Coffin, right?” 

His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up, “you know my band?” he asks, still not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes,” you say, licking your lips as you stare at the tattoos on his arm, “you played at the twilight zone last weekend, I was there with my friends. You’re good,” you smile, “amazing even.” 

Eddie blushes, smiling at your words, “thank you!” 

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle as you see the flushed cheeks. 

He finally pulls his hand back, laughing awkwardly, “uh so, I think you’re amazing, your voice is pretty– pretty fucking good!” 

You smile at him as you look into his pretty eyes, “you think so?” 

“Yeah, I totally think so,” he grins, “that’s uh– that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him but he can’t help but check you out. It isn’t just your voice that caught his attention it’s also– No, Eddie. Don’t go there, don’t go there. He looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath. 

“Do you do that for a living or something?” he asks, “I mean, singing.” 

You shake your head, “no..” you mumble.

He nods, trying not to stare at your lips as he looks back at you, “would you like to do that for a living?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks into your eyes, noticing the pretty color; his favorite color as he just realized.

You furrow your brows and shrug, “I mean, I would love to. I-I grew up with music. I sing and play bass."

Eddie raises his brows, “you play bass?” 

��Mhm.” 

Wow. 

Not only are you an excellent singer, you also play one of his favorite instruments.

“That’s.. that’s amazing!” 

You chuckle. Your eyes trail down to his hands, eying the many rings on his fingers. 

“So uh– you know, my band might be missing a member,” Eddie says as he takes a step closer to you, leaning his elbow against the counter, “and you are really talented so…” 

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t make an offer like that, he was content with the band and he wasn’t interested in having any new band members— especially another singer but he is desperate and his chances of becoming a rockstar are getting smaller every day but something tells him that you and your voice are the key to success— hopefully.

You blink in surprise, “you’re looking for another band member?” 

He shrugs, sighing, “we weren’t looking but apparently something about our music is not good enough and the label is about to drop us. We need something new.. something that might make our music better— don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good already but apparently not everyone thinks so.”

A smirk appears on your face, “oh, so… you want me to save your band?” 

He rolls his eyes playfully, giving you a coy smile, “I guess?” 

“Aren’t you a heavy metal band?” you ask, skeptically, “I do rock music, not heavy metal.” 

“I mean, we lean more towards rock right now, so..” he says, shrugging.

You raise your brows, crossing your arms over your chest, you shrug, “I don’t know, what am I gonna be? A background singer?” you ask, “background bass player? I’m not interested in being in your shadow.” 

“No…. we just need another singer.” 

“The lead singer wants another singer?” you ask in confusion, “who would want that?” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I want that,” he shrugs, “I play guitar and I sing so I have no problem with sharing the spotlight.” 

“Really?” you laugh, “you don’t mind sharing the spotlight, why is that so hard to believe?” 

He chuckles, “listen Sweetheart, I would never ever make an offer like this to just anyone but I’m really desperate here, I really want to make this album and I’m willing to add another singer to the mix, your voice is fucking beautiful and something tells me that you could.. make things better so… are you interested in joining the best band in the world?” 

The smile on your face gives him the answer he was hoping for. And just like that, his confidence is back.

This isn’t over yet, not for him and not for the band.

Corroded Coffin is gonna go big and Eddie’s dreams will come true, he just knows it, he can see it, in your eyes.

-

[msbarrybeeson]

Listen (F!Reader Insert)

A/N: When the movie trailer dropped, I knew there are many opportunities for angsty fan fiction, so I kind of took one. Some of the dialogue is canon, everything else is from my imagination. Anyway, getting the characters’ "character” was a challenge. I’ll appreciate any constructive criticism to improve it. Enjoy!

Summary: Casey Jones is trying to warn them of their future.

Pairing(s): Rise! Leo X Reader (Established Relationship)

Reader: Feminine pronouns are used. No actual appearance, only mentions.

Genre: Humor / Slight Angst

Warning(s): Rushed writing. Written before release. Mentioned character death.

Word Count: ~840

~

“So what’s your business with our friend, pal?”

Casey slowly opened his eyes, groaning through the headache. The world seemed upside-down, but judging from the ropes tying his body to a chair, he got the memo. So he was knocked out and taken into the underground subway station. The human boy grimaced; the stench reeked here.

In front of him stood four mutant turtles, in addition to the presence of a sewer rat and another human. “Master.. Leonardo?” Casey murmured as he recognized the blue eye-mask and red markings.

“Hey, did you hear that?” Mikey gasped. “He knows your name!”

Leon smirked. “And he added a nice ring to it, too.”

“So Blue does mature after all.” Splinter scratched his fur.

“Great,” Donnie rolled his eyes. “Thank you for inflating his ego.”

“Guys, come on now—,” Raph began.

“Shh. Give a minute, hermanos, I’ve got a plan.” Leon announced with confidence.

All the voices blurred. Casey glanced around groggily, only to realize there was one person missing from the group. “(Name).... Urgh…. Where’s.. where’s (Name)?”

The group quieted down.

“Oho, skipping the introductions, are we?” Leon narrowed his eyes. He stepped closer to the human boy. “You got something against her too? …I’d let it go if I were you,” he threatened.

“This is what happens when random people jump straight to asking about his girlfriend before doing introductions,” Donnie remarked. Casey panicked under Leon’s glare, especially once he saw Leon pull out his katana. “Hey, hey!” Casey shook fervently. “Hold on a minute! It’s not—.”

“My hermanos, what do you think we should do with him?” The turtle pointed with the tip of his blade.

“Ooh, ooh!” Mikey raised his hand. “Give him a nasty haircut!”

Raph thrusted his fist forward. “We could use a nice punching bag.”

“Or here’s a better idea,” Donnie pulled down his goggles, doing a quick analysis of Casey, “how about I alter his brain, so we can remote-control him?”

“Pfft. Think we’ve scared him enough, boys.” April clapped her hands, making them drop the act and fall into laughter. Raph was snickering in back, seeing Casey all pale and shaken up. “Oh man, that was good.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Leon wiped a tear. “In all seriousness, who are you, ‘cause we need to call you something other than— I don’t know, human guy?”

“...The name’s Casey Jones—.”

“Hold up, Jones as in Cassandra Jones? Never knew she has a brother,” April asked.

“Son,” he grumbled. God, how many times would they be interrupting him? “I’m her son.”

“Guys, I think he’s gone insane,” Donnie remarked.

“Careful, Don,” Mikey hushed. “Maybe he’s got trauma, and was put up with his sister being the mother role.”

Leon scratched his chin. “Seriously? Casey— I mean, Cassandra here��� acting like anyone close to a mother?”

“For the record, I’m not insane!”

“Then, explain how you might be Cassandra’s son, when you’re just about her age.”

“Woah, Donnie, don’t tell me—.”

“That I took DNA samples from his teeth while he were knocked out? Why yes, yes I did.”

Casey shook in the air, which only had the rope swinging him from side to side. “Listen! You want to know how I’m her son? Simple answer is: I’m not from your time.”

“Huh?”

“...Is this going where I think it is?” Donnie covered his own mouth with his hand.

“I know how this sounds,” Casey cautioned. “But I need you to believe me, because I’m from… the future.”

…

Once again, everyone bursted out into laughter. In fact, even Splinter was amused.

“Y-you cannot be serious!” Donnie crouched over, dying. “That’s not possible!”

“Look, person named Casey,” Raph wiped another tear, “no offense, but if you’re trying to scare us, I can assure you you’ve got better things to do.”

“No! I’m trying to warn you guys about the future!”

“Right,” Leon rolled his eyes playfully. “And uh… how do we know whether we should take your word for it?”  

“Because if you won’t do something about this,” Casey’s face contorted in anger, “(NAME) IS GOING TO DIE!”

Noise slipped into immediate silence. Everyone stopped, eyes wide.

“Woah, woah,” Raph’s tone lowered, “You crossed the line there, pal.” The snapping turtle looked to his red-eared brother in concern. He found Leon clenching his hands and narrowing his eyes. “Yeah. There are other ways to get us to listen, y’know.”

“But you wouldn’t listen! And I’m not lying when I—!”

“Then, what are you talking about?!”

“Fine. Let’s start over.” Casey sighed, “My name is Casey Jones. In the future, an alien race by the name of Kraang decimated the planet. Master Leonardo gave me a mission: find the key and stop them.

When I arrived, I couldn’t recognize the place at all. Seeing Commander O’Neil, I thought she could the best person to start with.”

“What’s (Name) got to do here?” Donnie questioned.

“She—.” Casey hesitated, meeting Leon’s eyes. The red-eared slider crossed his arms. “Say it.”

“…She was killed trying to save Master Leonardo.”

[wdwnbabo]

"SOUND ON!

We were lucky to have our protagonist, Jerry, be voiced by award winning actor, Mr. Alfred Molina. You definitely know him from some of the roles hes played over the years in movies and tv shows like Frida, The Spider-Man franchise, Chocolat, Boogie Nights, Magnolia, An Education, Feud: Betty and Joan, Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (throw me the idol!) and his new series, Three Pines.

When we asked Alfred to be our lead, we were kind of embarrassed. He's a Juilliard trained actor whos won awards on the biggest stages, and we asked him to make bird noises. But ill tell you this, he absolutely nailed it. Not only is Alfred a great actor, but he's a super nice human being and a joy to be around! So happy to have him as part of our "Flutter" family!

Here's some fun clips of Alfred in the recording booth that we wanted to share with the world!"

IG post from @fluttershortfilm

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 26)

Tw: non con kiss from our resident creep Monty, shoet chapter again

VOTE ON THE POLLS BELOW PLS FIRST 20 PPL ONLY COUNTED

part 27

"(name), as much as I love to hear your thoughts on the fabric Spandex, it's time for you to attend your lecture." He interrupted your rant about certain types of pants.

He's right, you should go. 20 minutes went by quick and you had forgotten what you told Yves. How did this conversation start? You have no idea.

But the conversation was getting so much fun! You don't want to go to class, you'd rather talk to Yves.

Yves covered his mouth with his hand as he chuckled, that was what he needed to hear after days of neglect from you. Education be damned, he is feeding his yearning for you first. He can always revise with you when he comes back.

"You are adorable, (name). Very well then, stay on the line with me."

You yap ahead, walking away from the entrance of your lecture, dodging the other students that are flowing in.

__

You find a secluded space where you can sit and finally conduct a video call with Yves after three days.

He's watching you with such admiration as you spew out nonsense from your mouth. It was a bit difficult at first because it felt like Yves was looking straight into your eyes through the screen. You don't know how he could maintain such great eye-contact with the camera lens without ever looking at himself in the call.

Yves is watching you while propping his head on a gloved hand. It seems like he's in a private balcony of sorts while he has earbuds on.

He is more ethereal than you remembered, especially now that he's wearing winter fashion, a heavy coat draped around his shoulders to combat the cold. There was wind blowing softly at his ever so healthy hair, but none of the strands stuck to his face.

You noticed that his makeup style is a bit different than what you're used to. It's a tad bit heavier and paler, but alluring and subtle nonetheless. Perhaps the weather influences how he looks.

He must have great reception there as the video feed you received from him is immaculate, it's clear and crisp. Almost as if you're watching a romantic film in the cinema, or a video captured with the intent of winning an award, something about the lighting, angle and the colours made him exceptionally beautiful and almost dream-like.

You? You looked like shit. A wad of jittering pixels that was recorded from an unflattering angle. Your call was running on the cheapest option of your data plans and your phone can be considered a relic of time. Of course it's not going to be the best quality, Yves made a note to give you an upgrade when he comes back home. Multiple upgrades, even.

You paid no mind to the fact that he occasionally scribbled something in his notebook, too engrossed in your own chattiness to notice.

Yves's eyes flitted to his laptop off screen. The corners of his lips temporarily twitched downwards.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose.

"(name)."

You stopped. Asking what's up.

He pointed his finger upwards to a corner. You have no idea what he is pointing at off camera, but you instinctively let your eyes wander to the direction of his finger.

The icon showing your battery levels is highlighted red. You're on your last few percentages. That was strange, how did he know where to point? How did he know that your phone is going to die?

"Did you bring your powerbank?" He asked, pouting because he knew you didn't. Yves has no choice but to end the call with you soon.

As he predicted, you didn't. Not even a charger where you could plug in an outlet somewhere.

"Then, goodbye, my dear. I'll speak to you later." He didn't look too happy having to let you go for now. But Yves wants to make sure you have a means of contacting help during emergencies.

He ended the call immediately. Yves then went on to dial Mr. Jones's number.

Meanwhile, you picked your phone up and placed it back onto the table, flicking your hand due to the heat it produced. You can't put that in your pocket now.

Question marks started popping up, you never told him that your phone is dying. Maybe your facial expressions gave it away? But it's still unbelievable how he could guess it. You did confirm it when he asked you if you brought anything that can charge your phone.

You started reflecting upon earlier events. You couldn't figure out how Yves knew Evangeline turned your speakerphone on. Was there a change in audio quality that told him everything he needed to know? If so, Yves is the most observant person you've ever met in your life.

Or maybe you're just that predictable. You don't know whether to take offense to that or not.

Regardless, your train of thought was interrupted by a pinch on the ear. You let out a surprised yell, your attacker pulling on your delicate flesh painfully.

"Joe Mama, huh? Anita Bath, huh? Ha, ha. Very funny, sweetheart." You whined and sobbed as he continued twisting your ear, you tried clawing his strong, callous hand off you.

Montgomery didn't budge while you wriggled under his punishment. He has a pinch power only an older sibling could yield, it's impossible to break free without tearing your ear off your head.

"You lil' prick, you're lucky that you're so cute. I'm lettin' your shenanigans slide for now." He lets you go and you cradle your reddened ear. Montgomery lets out a laugh as you recover from his assault.

"Hi, baby." He kissed your temple while you were distracted. You let out a shout of disgust before wiping your skin.

"Thanks for the number anyways, darlin'. I appreciate it." Montgomery sat next to you, setting down a large pizza box.

You asked him how he knew that was your number.

"I told you I'm gonna find out, didn't I?" He gave you a smug smirk.

You asked if Evangeline told him. He rolled his eyes and groaned at the mention of her name.

"Ugh, that stuck up brat? Lord no, I ain't need her help. And, I can't stand bein' around her, I dunno how you do it though." He began opening the box, revealing hot, delicious pepperoni pizza slices. Steam was emanating from the pie and its aroma made your mouth water.

He smiled seeing that his food choice today elicits a more positive response than yesterday. Probably because you haven't eaten since, the chicken and waffles were untouched on the table.

He took a peek into the greasy paper bag. Montgomery sighed upon seeing that you didn't eat your breakfast.

"Listen, (name). I know you're workin' hard for ya' future. But you still gotta eat! What the hell are ya' gonna do when ya' faint in class?"

You stayed silent as he chided you.

"If they faint, I'll be there to help them." You and Montgomery lifted heads to see a third person butting into the conversation.

"Not you again." Montgomery grumbled upon seeing Evangeline's cheery face. She gave her signature jazz hand and toothy smile.

You feel uncomfortable. Fearing that this is going to be an awkward dynamic between the girl who your boyfriend just dragged through the phone, and your creepy delusional stalker.

However, this is the closest you could get to an actual friend group in university. Pathetic, isn't it?

You avoided her eyes. But all she did was sit opposite of you.

"Oh, don't worry about this morning, (name). Sir Yves is known to be a grouch, after all." She held your hand and squeezed it. "I'm sure he said all that in the heat of the moment, he's going to get over it soon."

The mention of Yves was enough ruffle Montgomery's feathers.

"That fuckin' asshole. I fuckin' hate him, is he still botherin' you sweetheart?" He looked at you.

You don't know how to answer.

"Hey, it isn't very nice to call their boyfriend that." Scolded Evangeline.

"I'm their boyfriend! Not that... freak!" He hissed.

"Whatever you say, Monty."

"Don't fuckin' call me that, shut up!" Montgomery retaliated while Evangeline giggled.

He huffed as he sat back down and seethed in silence. But you think Montgomery doesn't see Evangeline as a threat, more like an annoying housefly hovering around him.

"Ooh, pepperoni! Yummy." She propped her head up with both hands, staring into the pizza box.

"Yeah. And you can't have any-" Montgomery paused, watching you from the corner of his eyes. You stared back, not showing any emotion in particular, but Montgomery read it as judgement.

Soon after, he relented. "One. One slice. Then fuck off, leave me and (name) alone."

She squealed excitedly and clapped her hands. "I will take the slice, but I will not, fuck off." Evangeline gave both of you a cocky grin. Montgomery widened his eyes and let his jaw drop in anger.

"Why you--!"

You decided to stand up and walk away from both of them. That was sufficient to shut them up.

"Hey! Where are ya' goin', sweetheart?"

Montgomery yelled out from across the hall, but you ignored him and scurried out.

You picked up the pace when you heard them packing up too, pulling your phone out, you tried dialing Yves.

But before you could press "call", your phone died.

You cussed under your breath and let your legs propel you forward.

"(name), wait up!" Evangeline called from behind, you heard the heels of her flats striking the ground.

You only had a second to react when a tall shadow engulfed you. A strong hand on your right shoulder and a softer, gentler one on your left stopped you in your tracks.

"Where ya' headin'?" Montgomery asked you.

You gulped, alternating your gaze from Evangeline's blue optics to Montgomery's deep brown ones.

You could head to the library to use their public chargers to power up your phone. But that would mean you're stuck with Evangeline and Montgomery. There is a designated place for students to eat and chat, they're most likely going to drag you there.

Or, you could head to the picnic benches near the general parking lot. There are power outlets with cables suitable for your phone there as well, powered by solar panels. The campus security patrols around the area regularly, you could just make a scene if anything goes south.

However, it's going to be hot. Boiling, even. Because it's outdoors and you think that the tables under the shade are already taken.

You asked them for the time, Montgomery beat Evangeline to it because he has a watch on his wrist.

"It's 12:18, why?" He asked. Usually Montgomery has an hour and a half of break.

You asked Evangeline if she has any class after this. She shook her head.

"Nope, I'm all done for today."

The classes in the afternoon are all lectures. No attendance is being taken, you could call Mr. Jones to save you. But that means there will be a chance Evangeline will hop on and tell her father what happened between her and Yves. You're not sure if you can handle the awkwardness.

But before you can even call Mr. Jones in the first place, you have to revive your phone first.

Using all the information you have, you made your decision.