#he would make them only listen to Jimmy Buffett | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rhythmicmeow · 1 year

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Vinyl Countdown PARTIES: Beau @mayihaveyournameplease and Leticia @rhythmicmeow SUMMARY: Beau takes time out of his precious day to help Leticia rearrange the store. Grateful doesn't even begin to describe how she feels. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Beau hadn't updated his tunes in a while. His car had two CDs and that was Jimmy Buffett's Meet Me in Margaritaville, which had two discs, making his entire CD collection Buffet centric. He would flip between them depending on whether he felt like belting to Margaritaville on disc one or serenading himself to Cowboy in the Jungle on disc two. Honestly. Every song on that CD was a banger. You couldn't go wrong with any Jimmy Buffett tune. On Beau's top 10 list of names he wanted to own more than anything in this whole wild world, he'd have to place the Buffman at number one. If Beau got Jimmy's name? It was game over. He would waste himself away in Margaritaville all day every day. Beau was nowhere close to getting Jimmy's name so as a little distraction he would go to the local music shop, and he would find something new to listen to.

The music shop in town was called The Vinyl Countdown. Beau thought that was the dumbest name he'd ever heard. What was it counting down to? The day people stopped using Vinyl? Didn't that happen already? Kids these days all had music on their phones. The store owner was lucky their shop wasn't out of business. Beau made sure to slam the door open upon his arrival. He needed to make sure whichever employee was working knew he was there, because he was the important customer. His first gaze around the room was... well, unimpressed. Racks of vinyl with only a tiny collection of CDs. A booth in the back, for what? Making their own music? Would anyone talented at making music actually live in this dumb town? "I'm looking for new music," Beau announced to the store. Beau started to make his way down the racks of vinyl, pulling out ones he thought had interesting covers and moving them to different locations where he thought they looked better. More appealing. The owner was obviously lucky he'd come to save them.

It had been a relatively slow day at the shop. The hours were dragging by and Leticia had spent most of her hours on the floor, rearranging the way she had sorted the genres. And was currently rearranging the records that she had on her wall, the posters were pulled down and lined up by the stairs that led to the second floor. The door slammed and Leticia, from the other side of the room, audibly sighed. “Really?” She grumbled to herself, grabbing the vinyl she had been looking for to cue up in the radio room. It had to be some kid that had come in, no respect for the building or the business. She didn’t mind window shoppers, but teenagers tearing the place up wasn’t the same as someone casually browsing.

They spoke and Leticia arched a brow and turned around. Not a teenager. “Newly released or something different from what you usually listen to?” Her eyes flickered to the records in his hands that he was rearranging into different sections. She would have thought he was just browsing and setting it down some place convenient, but… it felt like there was purpose in his movements. Was he trying to be obnoxious? She swallowed her annoyance. If he was looking for a reaction, he was going to be sorely disappointed. “It’s sorted by genre and then alphabetized, if you’re looking for something specific.”

“It’s sorted wrong.” Beau informed the shopkeeper. “It doesn’t look good.” Beau pulled out an album he’d never heard of. Barenaked Ladies, Stunt. “Why would you put this out front?” To his unspoken disappointment, there were no barenaked ladies on the cover. Simply some bad cut out art. “Indecent.” Beau added, shoving it behind a stack of other things. “You should really do something about the designs. Maybe they would all look better if you put covers on them with their names printed in clear and easy to read font.” Beau thought that was a particularly smart solution to the problem that was too many ugly album designs. “Where are your CDs? My car doesn’t play vinyls.” He may have been speaking about CDs but he was still messing up a row of vinyl as he spoke.

Beau finally designed to look up from the area he was messing up to look at the shopkeeper. Oh! He thought to himself. She was pretty. Beau put on his most charming smile, swaggering up to her. “I’m looking for some good music. You know. The kind that the ladies love. The kind that will get them to want to ride in a car with me.” He ran a hand through his hair. To his credit, Beau was meticulous about maintaining his personal hygiene. His hair needed the extra volume to hide the little horns that stuck out the top. “Not that I need help with that. On account of being so handsome.” He struck a pose. “Anyway, please take me to your best music selection.” -

For a moment, Leticia thought she was looking at her manager. Criticizing her over something mundane and something that was more about personal preference when it came to order than having a right or wrong answer — she had always gotten the questions he had asked wrong too. The wrong move, the wrong tone, the wrong shade of lipstick. The familiarity pulled at the corner of her lips, threatening to turn into a smile despite her original annoyance. “There are tags on the back, actually. It’s covering the original barcodes. The covers are sort of the best part,” she explained, pulling a Queen album out, News of the World. “I mean, covering up the killer robot? Now that would be a crime.” Putting the vinyl back where she had sorted it to, Leticia pointed towards the small tray of CDs at the register. “I only have a handful at the register. Mostly trade-ins.”

He was preening and Leticia, well, she couldn’t knock the game he was playing. At least he knew the tone he was going for and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. “That highly depends on the woman you’re trying to attract.” But the demand and the swagger he was trying to put out? It was hard not to be infected by the energy. “Right, you just need some music to set the mood.” Arching a brow, Leticia considered what the best would be. Everyone had different tastes and this man was clearly opinionated. “How about we start with what you’re already using? That way I don’t suggest the same bangers you’re already using?”

“A crime would be to allow the youth of today to be exposed to such violent and vicious material. The youth are impressionable and we have to take it upon ourselves to provide for them the best future possible.” Beau was showboating. He was a bird puffing out his large colorful plumage to convince the woman in front of him that he was a very brave and very thoughtful man. Beau didn’t care what the youth of today got up to, just as long as they handed him their names before doing it. “Think of the children! I know I do.” He added a wink before moving up an album with a more violent picture and replacing it with one where a man’s naked torso was the main focal point. Deciding that was enough free labor for the day, Beau followed to where the shop keep was pointing.

“This is a dismal display.” Beau noted as he started going through the handful of used CDs. But that was okay, because the store keep was asking him what kind of woman he was trying to display, and Beau was all about laying it on as heavy as possible. Beau leaned his five foot five frame against the counter, summoned his scummiest smile and looked up at the beautiful woman before him. “You, if you’re interested.” His tongue swiped against his bottom lip as his eyebrows bounced up and down. In his mind, he was truly the epitome of an attractive male. The guy they should put on the cover of all GQ and Male Health magazines. “I’ll listen to anything you like.” The wink was added this time. “But mostly in my car, I’m rocking to Jimmy Buffet. How about you close up shop right now and we take a drive to enjoy all thirty-eight tracks.” Beau held up two fingers. “It's two CDs.”

Was he being serious? Leticia found herself tipping her head to the side and listening to him carefully, trying to measure the words out and figure if he thought the worst things that kids saw these days were on the cover of discs. “Not the worst argument that I’ve heard, but…” she shrugged and kept her attention on him, trying desperately to ignore the rearranging he was doing. Killing her slowly, more likely. “Censoring the world for children doesn’t do much other than keep them unprepared for reality. They might not need to know the worst parts of humanity,” she explained before pulling forward one of Queen’s album. “But this is hardly the worst thing they’ll see.”

Leaning on the counter, Leticia shrugged a shoulder and shook her head. “We’re called the Vinyl Countdown for a reason, besides, CDs are a dying format. Everyone’s going to online music. Vinyls are collectibles.” It was a shallow argument, but for a man who was rearranging ‘violent’ covers to the back and pulling forward shirtless me, she didn’t need a solid argument. He spoke again and Leticia looked away, immediately going into dodge mode. “It’s not polite to come onto someone like that when they’re at work.” Clearing her throat, Leticia reached over and started flipping through CDs, “Well, if you’re looking for a woman like me, Jimmy Buffet isn’t the worst idea, but Journey would be a decent addition. Swift if you want to cast a wide net, would give you more to talk about too, people love talking about her.”

“Bah. The children can be thrown into reality like the rest of us. Kicked out of their home at the age of eighteen and forced to undergo tragedy and trauma to build character and become a valued and funny part of society. While their brains are still soft and squishy we should do everything we can to make sure they never see a lick of trouble.” There was a specific sting to his words. Maybe if his parents hadn’t kicked him out at eighteen he wouldn’t have lost all his names down the road. Then again. His eighteenth birthday was pretty good… Yeah. He’d have played it the same even if his parents didn’t want to kick him out. If only he still had their names.

“The only thing I collect are numbers.” The lie caused a sour taste in his mouth. Beau turned away, coughing back the lie. It was hard to be the suave and cool man he knew he was when his own body wanted to hold him back. “Well if it's not polite to hit on you during work, what if we set up a date for afterwards and I can save my best lines for then.” Beau was rubbing his hands together, eyes squinting and his tongue once more licking the bottom lip. He’d seen a man make the exact pose while hitting on someone before. He looked pretty cool. Beau thought this was the perfect time to test out the pose. “I’ll take Journey and Swift.” Beau pulled out his wallet, throwing all the bills he had on the counter. “You know, now that I look at you more, you look familiar. Have we met before? Perhaps if you gave me your name it would ring a bell.”

It was… strange. Leticia didn’t know how else to describe it. His words and movements, even his beliefs were confusing. She had remembered hearing stories from other artists when she was on tour when they got kicked out of their parent’s home for pursuing their dreams or other friends from her past that had been told that their family had an expiration date. “Maybe,” she offered, but her voice was distant. A practiced smile took its place on her face, pretending not to have been so affected by the words. “But let’s leave that up to the parents. I’m not raising their kids, they are.” The thought lingered though, knowing that there were people out there who threw their kids out the second they weren’t ‘children’ in the eyes of the law. She knew she’d never be able to do that. Family was everything to her.

“Interesting,” she said with a slow nod of her head. “Well, I hope you find someone willing to add to your collection after you’re done shopping.” Leticia was quickly realizing her mistake, too polite for her own good, he was still pressing for a commitment outside of work. “I’m not available,” she replied more firmly this time. “It’s not a good time for me dating wise.” The truth, or at least a fraction of it. She moved to the other side of the register and organized the money, handing him back the amount he had overpaid. He was peacocking, and before she could finish ringing him up he asked her name and she immediately thought of her last interaction with a fae. “No,” she said easily, looking up from her work. “We’ve never met before, and it’s rude to ask for someone’s name without introducing yourself first.” But her heart was pounding now, a sense of danger crawling up her spine. Maybe he wasn’t fae, but she couldn’t be too careful.

“You are killing me here.” Beau slumped against the counter, rag dolling all his weight to mimic his fictional death. “No after no.” Beau placed a hand to his forehead. “Alas! What am I a poor traveler to do?” Beau jumped back up to his feet, leaning against the counter as far as he could get. “Is there anything in this store I could buy to get you to change your mind? I have the money?” Beau knew well and well that he only had the money because stealing people’s names was a lucrative business. All the money he made from his real job went into a savings account that was making a very good yearly interest, while his day-to-day spending came from cards, he took out under the names he had taken.

Beau was not one to face rejection with grace and serenity. In fact, Beau wasn’t one to do anything with any sort of decorum. He jumped up on the counter, hoping it would make him look taller and more handsome in her eyes. Maybe his height had been the reason she couldn’t see him as a good partner. “I am Beau Bueford!” He announced, a hand theatrically flying into the air. “And if you don’t want to name yourself, you could be the future Mrs. Bueford. He walked around the counter as he spoke, feet pushing things off the counter and pushing others off. It was a display that lacked any regard for the store’s belongings. Beau leaned down, offering a hand to the store clerk. He’d seen this in a movie before, he was sure it would work. “Do you trust me?”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Leticia smiled despite herself, the man, despite himself, would have been a fun energy to be around if it wasn’t focused in the way that it was. But that was the tragedy about people, there was always that sliver of light that offered some kind of hope that they were more than met the eye. But he kept going, and whatever pretend dream she had of him taking the rejection with grace was quickly gone. “No.” This time her tone was more flat, the expression on her face giving way to the disgust that he thought she could be simply bought.

Just when she thought the surprises were over, he was on the counter and Leticia took a wide step back, her mouth agape. Was he serious? He was asking for a date and proposing she could be the wife in whatever future he was planning in his mind. She had met a lot of strange people in her time on tour, and during fan meetings, but there was always some kind of sad obsession that had led them to this place. But Beau? He had no idea who she was - so where was this coming from? “You can call me Leticia. Torres. I’m quite happy with my own name.” He offered her his hand as if to invite her in causing more damage to her store - as if they could be partners in this. “Beau,” she said his name cautiously, not taking his hand but touching it and pushing it slowly back toward him. “Why don’t you get off the counter? Alright? Do you need help getting down?”

No. It was always no. Beau was tired of no’s. Beau was a good guy! He had a good job! He had a beautifully large collection of names! Yet the only thing people ever said to him was no. Beau hated people for that. Beau hated that they all dismissed him as an annoying little gnat. Grumbling to himself, Beau got himself down off the counter. He didn’t need help. He’d tried being nice. He’d tried being pleasant. Look what that had gotten him! Absolutely nothing. Beau could feel the familiar rage building inside of him. It pulsed through his viens. It pumped his heart into over drive. It begged for him to take action.

“Leticia Torres.” Beau repeated the name with his customary smile. The smile he was used to wearing at all time. The smile that pulled at the his face until his skin ached. “A beautiful name.” Beau leaned against the counter again, hands pressed firmly against the hard surface. He pressed down so much his fingers turnr red from the pressure as he tried to think of the calming words that wold bring happy Beau who everyone should love back. After a moment he remembered why he was here. Moving one hand from the counter he pulled out the wallet. He opened it. He took out all the money he thought whatever he was buying would cost, honestly he didn’t even know what he was buying at this point, and threw the cash at Leticia Torres.

Maybe it was because Leticia had practiced smiling in a mirror for the last twelve years, or maybe it was just Beau’s expressions over their current conversation — but the smile that had planted itself on his face as he said her name was not a real one. And she hated it. Hated the way he had acted and the way he paraded around her store like he was the owner — hated the fact that he glossed over all her objections and offered her money in place of respect. It was infuriating on many levels.

But he started throwing money again and his body language changed in a way that felt wrong. She moved from behind the counter and grabbed his hands, trying to stop him from throwing more money around. “Beau?” She said his name, trying to pull his attention. “I don’t know what’s happening here but is there someone I can call for you? I don’t think you should be alone right now.” Leticia positioned herself so she could see his face better. “Tell me what you need — water? Food? To sit down?” Against her better judgment, she wanted to help him. This behavior wasn’t normal, and though she didn’t know him, she didn’t want to watch him walk away in this state.

Beau’s parents had never gentle parented him. Perhaps that showed in the way he treated people. In the way he demanded they do what he wanted them to, instead of understanding that other people had different plans in life. Ones that didn’t always go along with what he wanted. Beau gave a long suffering look up at Leticia, the beautiful store keeper who was doing her best to reject him. He didn’t get it! He was a catch! He had a good job! He was a great customer! He was literally the dream package. Was it the height thing? It was probably the height thing. He was a short king, as the kids called it these days. She would be so lucky.

The fact that she was concerned about him didn’t go unnoticed. It was, however, a source of confusion. Why would he need food, water, or a place to sit? He was a fit man? He could jump around forever. Beau stood up straight. “I am grate.” That was a cheese pun. She didn’t need to know. Puns weren’t lies. They were jokes. That was the loophole. “I think you have ideas about me. Ideas that aren’t true. We can talk this out. We can fix this. Two adults, standing here normally, talking.” Beau swept a hand, knocking the one thing that hadn’t been disturbed off the counter. “Why don’t you give me all the reasons you don’t like me.”

Her lips parted, wanting to tell him that it was fine if they paused that conversation for another time. Leticia was sure that there was something else at play here and he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Maybe it would give him enough to calm down from whatever had him so riled up - but he pushed over the last item on the counter next to the register. She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, telling herself that she shouldn’t be mad. Some people needed more patience than others. But in all the years that she spent meeting fans from all areas and in all age groups, she had never encountered someone quite like Beau.

“Two adults. Right.” Leticia worked her jaw, reminding herself that anger had no place here. Stay calm. No extreme emotions. “It feels like you’re trying to trap me into saying something I’ll regret.” She leveled with him, letting her suspicions of his true nature slip out at the same time. “Like a fae. Trying to bind me.” Leticia didn’t feel this way about most of the fae she had met, but Beau was different… in many ways. But she pushed a quick smile to her face, slipping back into a performance before shrugging her shoulders. Just in case this was just a normal human, she didn’t want to accidentally reveal anything. So, she figured appearing weird would be better than anything else. People could excuse weird. Mostly. “Like Dungeons and Dragons, you know? They have a Feywild expansion. Interesting read.”

There was a tension in her beautiful jaw, he watched it wind up as what had to be stress tugged at her. His eyes transfixed on the motion, the working on her jaw, the way her mouth moved as she spoke careful words. Was she pretending to be calm? He didn’t know. He was pretending to be calm. If they were both pretending to calm, well wouldn’t that be just the match? His fake smile grew even wider, his cheeks straining from the effort of holding it. Beau was well practiced at holding his fake smile now, despite the pain that spasmed through his face he knew he could hold it for hours at a time.

“Trap you? Like a fae?” Beau blinked, he hadn’t expected her to know about the fae. She wasn’t fae, Beau would know if she was. There would be the familiar tug of power inside him, the thread that linked him to every single fae in the world. “Oh, haha! You’re a dungeons and dragons fanatic. Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected that from someone as pretty as you.” Beau let out a hearty, yet forced, laugh. Dungeons and Dragons? Beau had always wanted to play but he could never get people to accept him to his table. Even when he’d offered to be the DM no one had wanted to come over to play with him. “I never read the Feywild expansion, no no. I’m a gouda guy. Honestly. I feel like you might be upset with me.” A twitch in his eye, because he was upset with her. She wasn’t considering what he wanted in all of this. It was so selfish of her. And now here he was, once again, playing the good guy. The nice guy making the compromises. Wasn’t this how the story always went. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.” He put his best little puppy dog face on, once more leaning his full weight against the counter as he looked up at the woman. “I want us to be good friends. Don’t you think we’d be the cutest friends.” Beau batted his eyelashes. “Come on. Don’t hold back. Just give me the reasons you don’t like me and we can move on.”

“I am a woman of many interests,” Leticia offered, trying to keep her tone light despite her suspicions. He had seemed shocked at first, briefly, but had been happy to accept her poor reasoning. But Beau wasted no time in claiming that he was a good guy and that he didn’t want her to be cross with him. “Well, you have been acting a bit…” She glanced at the counter that now was empty outside of the register that was firmly attached to the counter. “Wild.” Even compared to the teenagers that frequented the shop, he was in a league all his own. But she had a feeling that telling him that might encourage him further.

Move on? Like adults? Leticia worried at her lip, wondering if hearing the truth of the matter would help him see things clearly and get him to stop acting this way. But she had a sneaking suspicion that it would only make thing worse, but really, what did she have to lose? She had tried being nice about his behavior, maybe the direct approach would be better. “Fine,” she agreed. “You don’t respect me for one. You trashed my store,” she said, waving her hand toward the items that were now on the floor. “I tried to let you down nicely but you kept insisting on my number or a date or something.” Leticia almost added that she was sure that he wouldn’t have given a shit if he hadn’t seen her either, which was the unfortunate thing about most men in her life. It was all superficial bullshit. She had hoped that getting away from New York would have gotten her away from all the other shit she dealt with too… but it seemed some things followed. It was just a shame that this was one of them.

Acting a bit wild? Beau could have scoffed. Was being charming, delightful, basically a fairy tale prince from any Disney movie "acting wild"? Some people just didn't appreciate the art of being a fine male specimen. She was probably intimidated by him. How suave and charming he was. "I accept." Fae magic bound the world in threads and strings, tying people together and linking everyone to the world around them. As the woman 'gave' Beau all the reasons she didn't like him, he could feel the tension of the string snapping as the success that was fae magic snipped it from the spool of her existence and it weaved itself into Beau. Gone were all those pesky little thoughts. A slate wiped clean between them. "That was a good talk." Beau now knew what kind of man she wanted him to be. Those stoic kinds. Probably just like the cardboard cutout of Rick Astley behind her. Silent and strong. He could be silent and strong for her.

Beau gave her a smile, still forced, still seething with the anger of a man who was rejected by a beautiful woman. "Isn't that better? I feel like we made a breakthrough with that one. We're no longer a swissed opportunity at friendship. We talked it out! How gouda of us." God he was doing the most to keep this conversation from falling into the dredges of tedium. Did she even deserve it? She was kind of stuck up. But Beau was a gracious man. A generous man. He could forgive and... well actually he wouldn't forget. Beau kept track of every wrong done against him with a fine point pen and a detailed report.

There was a moment after she was done speaking that Leticia felt lighter. And then in the same instant, she couldn’t remember what had been bothering her in the first place. It was similar to how she felt after meditating with Metzli, like she had been elevated somehow. It was similar to the end of a show, when that first wave of reality hit her that she had finished another set and it had been killer. A small dose of adrenaline that came with all the excitement and joy when thing went right. She closed her eyes when Beau spoke again and inhaled deeply before nodding her head, because it had been good. The words that were spoken might have been lost to her, but it was clearly for the best. She wouldn’t have felt so good otherwise, now would she?

“It was very good, Beau,” Leticia said, this time with more fondness to his name. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she gripped him gently. “Don’t know what you did but you’ve got a magic touch there, you should try being a therapist or something, I think you’d be really good at it.” She looked at the counter, about to offer him a discount when she saw the state of the merchandise. It must have happened on the last shift or when she had her back turned. “I should get that cleaned up,” she mumbled, rubbing her temple before returning her attention to Beau. “But thank you. Sorry you had to see this place in such a state.”

She touched his shoulder with her light delicate fingers. The one he so desperately wanted to hold. But that’s not the kind of man Leticia Torress was looking for. Leticia Torres was looking for someone strong and stoic. Someone who was a bastion of a man, who didn’t have the silly goofies that Beau was known for. He played it cool, he played it so cool, nodding his head. “Yeah. My passion is helping people.” He pitched his voice deeper, his vocal chords shifting uncomfortably in the deeper octave. “If I wasn’t happy with my current profession, BMV professional, I would switch to therapist.” He ran a hand through his hair, head held high, like he was the main protagonist in a romcom. Trying to like shy and chagrin about it. “But my touch

Is magic. In always.” He let the words settle with a wink.

“I accept your thank and the state of your establishment. Everyone has bad days. Part of the reason I’m just such a good guy is because I can accept that about everyone.” There was so much Beau could do with this thanks. Ask her on a date. Ask her to marry him. Ask her to love him forever. The question was what did he want? He was still young guy looking to mingle and wasn’t ready to marry someone with a trick. Maybe he should hold the thanks for a day he was bored. That could be fun. Or maybe he could just take her name and be done with it. He tilted his head side to side as he considered all these thanks options. “I’m going to hold on to this thanks.” He finally informed her, “And cash it in when the time is right.” He reached out a hand and booped her on the nose. “See you around town my dear.” And with that he turned heel and strode out of the store. There was a lot to think about here, and he needed time to consider it.

#wickedswriting #char: beau #beau: attention countdown

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xtruss · 1 year

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Jimmy Carter’s Rock-and-Roll Legacy

The former President has a surprisingly long list of musician friends, some of whom, in the past days and weeks, have been reflecting on the time they’ve had with him.

In recent weeks, the former President has mostly been listening to favorites like Willie Nelson, whose music helped get him through the Iran hostage crisis. Photograph by Thomas S. England/Getty

In the decades since Jimmy Carter left the White House, there have been many reconsiderations of the former President’s legacy. Among the more unexpected of these is “Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President,” a documentary released in 2020, which chronicles Carter’s overlooked relationship not only with rock and roll but also with country, jazz, folk, and other genres. The movie had accidental beginnings: its lead producer, Chris Farrell, who’d previously worked in finance and had never made a film, set out to make a movie about the Allman Brothers Band, a group that, like him, hails from Jacksonville, Florida. Then a friend suggested that he call up some people in Atlanta who had worked for Carter.

“They start telling me all these amazing stories about Carter and the Allmans,” Farrell recalled recently. Carter had struck up a friendship with the band’s members when he was the governor of Georgia, in the early nineteen-seventies. One night, Carter and Gregg Allman, the band’s lead singer, were drinking scotch on the porch of the Governor’s Mansion, and Carter told Allman he was going to be President. (Allman said that they had had “just about all” of a bottle of J&B; Carter recalled only “a drink.”) “We all thought, Oh, really,” Chuck Leavell, the band’s pianist at their peak, in the early seventies, told me. “But we did some concerts for him. We thought, Wouldn’t it be great to have a President from Georgia?” The band had split, temporarily, by the time Carter took office, but they were invited to some formal White House events. “We weren’t sure how to act,” Leavell said. Greg Allman came to one dinner with his then wife, Cher, who mistook a finger bowl for a drink and downed it.

The former Carter staffers Peter Conlon and Tom Beard had more stories—about Willie Nelson, for instance, who, Farrell learned, had smoked pot on the White House roof with the President’s son Chip. At Nelson’s Georgia shows, Carter would sometimes take the stage and pretend to play the harmonica during “Georgia on My Mind,” while Mickey Raphael was really playing it in the wings. After these and other tales, Farrell was about to say goodbye to Conlon and Beard when one of them asked, “Wanna hear about Bob Dylan?”

The stories that Farrell heard that day immediately changed his focus. (Conlon, who became an executive producer on the film, and is now the chairman of Live Nation Georgia, told me that making a film about “the first President to embrace rock music in his campaign” was his idea.) Farrell called an old friend, Mary Wharton, who had produced and directed a number of music-related TV shows. She agreed to direct the film. The veteran music journalist Bill Flanagan helped track down and interview the musicians who appeared in the movie: Garth Brooks, Trisha Yearwood, Larry Gatlin, Nile Rodgers, Jimmy Buffett, Rosanne Cash, Bono.

Dylan, who rarely grants interviews, was maybe the most coveted target on the filmmakers’ list. “Bob was the white whale,” Farrell told me. Flanagan, who was close with Dylan’s manager, put in a request, and eventually got good news. “Even on the day it finally happened,” Farrell said, “I remember waiting for him to show up and thinking, I don’t know.”

“He wanted to do his interview in a kitchen,” Wharton told me. “I was, like, I wonder if he’s gonna share some recipes with us.” They met at a house in Connecticut, near a gig that Dylan had at the time. When he arrived, Dylan made it clear that he didn’t like the kitchen. He helped Wharton decorate another room to his taste. (Among the items he suggested was a triptych of three goddesses.) “He’d come prepared with things he wanted to say,” Wharton told me. They did a few takes, as Dylan worked out the rhythm of his words. “There’s many sides to him,” he said, of Carter. “He’s a nuclear engineer, woodworking carpenter. He’s also a poet. He’s a dirt farmer. If you told me he was a race-car driver, I wouldn’t even be surprised.” It seemed to Wharton “like he’d written a song about Jimmy Carter.” Dylan also told the story of the first time he and Carter met. “The first thing he did was quote my songs back to me. It was the first time that I realized my songs had reached into, basically, into the establishment world.” He called Carter “a kindred spirit to me of a rare kind.”

“He’s not generally loquacious,” Conlon said, of Dylan. “But around Carter he’s totally different. He relaxes and tells stories. Not the Dylan you’re used to.” When Carter sat for his interviews for the movie, in 2018, “he was kind of rigid at first, but, when he realized that all we wanted him to do was talk about music, it was almost like a light bulb went off and you could see the joy emanating out of him as he recounted all these stories,” Farrell said. The former President described Dylan as “one of my best friends.”

Part of the argument of the documentary is that Carter, who is now ninety-eight and in hospice care, changed the relationship between rock and roll and political power. “Previously,” Conlon explained, “the thinking was that there was too much risk mixing politicians and rock and roll—‘You can’t be around this guy. He does drugs.’ But Carter was very accepting of people and their frailties.”

Beard helped put on concerts in support of Carter’s Presidential campaign—including one headlined by Lynyrd Skynyrd that nearly went off the rails when the singer Ronnie Van Zant was too tanked to perform—and later served as deputy assistant to the President. Beard’s basement office occasionally hosted musicians waiting their turn to see Carter. Among those who stopped by were members of the group Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Stephen Stills, who had performed in the concerts that Beard helped to organize, told me about the band’s visit. “We took the pictures and stuff,” he said. David Crosby’s 2006 memoir refers to an unnamed member of the band “smoking a joint somewhere in the White House, just to say he did.” Stills told me that Crosby himself, along with one of the band’s managers, “lit up a doobie in the Oval,” although people who worked in the White House at the time cast doubt on the likelihood of this. “I was so embarrassed I didn’t speak to him for a couple of days,” Stills said, insistent that it happened.

Stills found the connection to Carter ennobling: “He made you take yourself seriously, you know? In a very offhand kind of way, he’d kind of remind you that you had a part to play here. I don’t know, I bit.”

Conlon recalled another occasion in the White House, in 1977, when he was hanging out with Carter’s call screener one night “and Elvis called.” Apparently, Elvis called sometimes. “I talked to Elvis for a minute,” Conlon said. Years later, Conlon asked Carter about the call. “First of all,” he recalled Carter responding, “Elvis and I are cousins. The Carters and the Presleys go way back.” Then the former President explained: “Elvis was calling because a friend of his was in jail in Memphis for passing bad checks and he wanted me to give him a Presidential pardon.” Carter told him he couldn’t help.

Musicians were occasionally asked to do more than just play. “He tasked me to do things, and I’d carry them out,” Stills said, noting that, on a musical-diplomacy visit to Havana, in 1979, Carter’s people had told him, “Pay attention while you’re in Cuba.” He added, “It wasn’t transactional. I liked him. My favorite thing about Jimmy was his laugh. He had this sort of half guffaw and half bray that came out when he was really tickled.” I asked Stills when Carter had been the happiest during his Presidency. He was often happy, Stills said, “but I heard he had more fun at Camp David than any other time in his life—riding around between those little houses while he told them to say the helicopter is broken.” Stills was on the South Lawn the day that the Camp David Accords were signed.

“Musicians are drawn to his spirituality and authenticity,” Conlon said, offering a theory for why Carter became friends with so many of them. “He’s deeply soulful and open-minded. He doesn’t judge people. Wouldn’t that be nice, in the current political environment?” (Conlon once asked Carter what he thought about Donald Trump. He chuckled at the one-word answer that he said Carter gave, with a wry smile: “Interesting.”)

Jim Free, who served as special assistant to the President for congressional liaison, told me a story that seemed to illustrate this characterization. When China’s Ambassador visited the United States in 1979, Carter asked whether there was anything he could do for the envoy. The Ambassador was a fan of country music, and wanted to go to Nashville. Free was tasked with putting the visit together. The Ambassador saw the Fisk Jubilee Singers and visited the Grand Ole Opry. The weekend ended on Sunday morning, at the home of Tom T. Hall, the musician and short-story writer, who’d invited “everybody who was anybody in the Nashville music industry,” Free recalled. Minnie Pearl, Jimmy C. Newman, Johnny and June Carter Cash all came. “When it came time to say the blessing, there was this awkward moment,” Free said. “And all of a sudden John and June started singing, ‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken.’ I still get chills.”

Leavell appreciated Carter’s generous spirit, too, recalling a Newport-style jazz festival that took place on the South Lawn, which featured Dizzy Gillespie, Herbie Hancock, and Cecil Taylor, among others. “I remember Carter running over at the end of Taylor’s piece and giving him this huge hug,” Leavell told me. “I thought, If Carter gets that atonal stuff, that’s pretty cool.” Carter also joined Gillespie onstage to sing his bebop tune “Salt Peanuts,” which Carter did enthusiastically, later calling it “a very peculiar song.”

Before “Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President” premièred, Wharton asked Jason Carter, the President’s grandson, about the title. Jason told her, “He says that the two things he’s most proud of in the world are, No. 1, having a U.S. Naval submarine named after himself, and, No. 2, being called the rock-and-roll President.”

Conlon told me that, in recent years, Carter noted his admiration for current musicians, including Jason Isbell, the singer-songwriter formerly of the Drive-By Truckers. But, at home in Plains, Georgia, in recent weeks, in the same house where he has lived since 1961, he has been listening to favorites like Willie Nelson, who helped get him through the Iran hostage crisis. “I would play Willie Nelson music primarily,” Carter said, of the time that he spent alone, in his study, in 1980, “so I could think about my problems and say a few prayers.”

Stephen Stills said, “Jimmy thought that the artists had a kind of a view over the horizon by intuition that some other people didn’t—a canary-in-a-coal-mine sort of aspect to us that he paid attention to. And he called upon us to comment, and he supported our commentary—the troubadour aspect to us. He just liked our deal.” ♦

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kae-karo · 3 years

Note

Can you give commentary on and p.s. if this is kaeya... ? :D

dw anon i saw your note about the chennett fic! i'm just selfish and want to do both of them :) lmaoooo

for context - send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

and p.s. if this is kaeya... - kaeluc

okay critically important if u have never heard the song that this is based on, check it out (x) vaguely this was inspired by sitting in the car with my fam a few months back and hearing this song on the radio (my dad exclusively listens to 2000s country, jimmy buffett, and queen) and my sister, who is an aggressively supportive ally, going 'every time i hear this song i imagine that it's about a guy named austin and i just change the pronouns when i sing it to make it gay'

so obviously, i had to make it abt kaeluc

(He wants to call Diluc.)

rose was my first exposure to people using parentheses in fic which sounds very strange as a comment to make but i do always associate it with her now lmaoooo. i rarely if ever do it in my fics (actually this might be the first one genshin-wise that i've done it in?) but it felt appropriate as a way to let kaeya express his emotions without expressing them

Do I remember that you were planning to propose to me?

okay so my biggest struggle in suiting this to kaeluc aside from the obvious 'they are not the stereotypical men portrayed in a country song' was figuring out what the hell would separate them. bc of the nature of the song, i didn't want to make it a messy/angsty breakup, but it had to be Big Enough that kaeya would just straight up not want to go near diluc for a long time

i did actually consider flipping their roles here, but i do often write a pining kaeya and a distant diluc, so it was fun to swap the typical dynamic a little bit. and ofc, diluc pre-crepus-death always strikes me as a i know what i want and i'm not afraid to go after it kind of vibe, so it fit well with the idea that he'd want to propose to kaeya

Voicemail, he chides, half in relief and half disappointment.

absolutely wild that this song was made in an era of answering machines cause i was like 'an-answering machine??? tf???' lsdfjljsklfsdjkl and had to very intentionally go fix all the times i said that without realizing it lmao

“If you’re calling with the intent to sell me something, please do not bother with a message, I have no interest in buying.”

okay there was a lot of adjusting of the actual voicemails from the song ofc, namely to make sure they fit diluc's voice, but i tried to keep the spirit of them, to let kaeya build diluc's character accordingly (and flesh out the idea of his relationship with him - and what they no longer have)

He won’t say a word, Diluc deserves that.

the other piece of this ofc was building out the way kaeya left, the reasons behind it - namely, his fears that he wasn't ever going to be good enough for diluc (hence his fight-or-flight making him run). this piece didn't come naturally at first but once i tracked it down, it fit well, esp considering how inclined i am to write kaeya as self-deprecating and self-sabotaging

“Advice? Tell me what to do?”

i love love LOVE bffs rosaria and kaeya and this only compounded after the bartender event. but i love rosaria's line abt how kaeya just basically talks about everything when he's drunk and love putting that to good use in fics

“You love him.”

“I know.”

ahhh the good ol' accidental admission. which, for him is like the world-ending type of admission in spite of the fact that rosaria's just chillin like 'babe u got it bad u never stopped loving him and he obviously never stopped loving u suck it up and call him' lksdfkjld. i love her being a force for calm in the midst of kaeya's dramatics

That’s too big a question for three years and a ring he’d never been brave enough to admit he wanted.

ngl something abt this line really made me 😭😭 to write,,,,,everything summed up about his departure in one sentence, more or less. everything about how he feels now, too

(But Diluc always deserved better than that, didn’t he?)

yeah okay this is the turning point for kaeya, ultimately. where he stops lamenting 'diluc deserves better' and starts using it as a motivation - and he gets there in words eventually, that diluc deserves better so he will be better, but this is the first point at which it shifts in the other direction (and the first point at which i realized how i wanted to resolve the issue, or what feels like an issue for kaeya at least)

“Will you come home, Kae?”

diluc, who never stopped loving kaeya. i actually struggle a LOT with prescribed lines of dialogue or events (which maybe isn't a bad thing exactly but it does hinder me a bit when it comes to stuff like this) so this was actually a little weird to write all the voicemail lines basically identically to what was originally in the song, but it ended up working out well to give kaeya these intense emotions between lines, in the breaks, and i hope it didn't end up sounding too clunky lmao

Kaeya shies away from the idea that he is someone worth rushing for.

i love fragile kaeya. broken, unsteady, shattered. terrified. at his least composed, least prepared. i think this is where he shines as a character, where we see some really interesting pieces of him that aren't hidden behind witty lines and deflecting answers, and i love to write him this way

(And this time, he intends to keep that promise.)

yes, they do get married (after a bit of a relearning of each other, but it's not hard to fall back into old habits). yes, they do get the house on the lake. klee loves visiting and kaeya's teaching her how to throw a softball with deadly accuracy. kaeya is very bad at bowling but he makes an effort to get better because diluc enjoys it and he wants to share in the things diluc enjoys. diluc and rosaria meet (rosaria actually says 'FINALLY' upon meeting him, which confuses diluc and embarrasses kaeya to no end) and they get along...weirdly well, to kaeya's relief. things are good. they get their well-deserved happy ending

send me a fic you want director’s commentary on!

#kaeluc #luckae #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fic #ask game #fic game #ask #anon #fic directors commentary

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cowpokezuko · 4 years

Note

I would literally die for you if you did more zukka headcanons

Noo, don’t inflate my ego even more haha, I’m so sexy

Sorry you had to read that, I think I’m funny.

ANYWAY, here you go, mon ami

(Putting it below a cut cause it’s LONG)

Zuko kins both Faramir from LoTR and Oikawa from Haikyuu

Zuko owns a horse and is an excellent rider, he ran barrel races in HS

The one and only time Sokka has ever ridden a horse he fell off.

Zuko has a membership to the golf club that his dad goes to

He and Sokka have a large collection of random items they’ve stolen from said golf club including silverware, plates, and like three full sets of clubs they’ve stolen from patrons

They go to a lot of parties at the golf club and Sokka usually wears a dress to piss off the racist, homophobic, old white people

When they go on dates to feed the ducks at their local park, Zuko tends to dress like a spy from the Cold War and Sokka dresses like a femme fatale from noir films

Zuko sends Ozai a box of live bugs for his birthday every year, always a different species, and Ozai ALWAYS falls for it

Sokka’s favorite music group is Tiny Meat Gang

He’s 5′7 of course it is

Zuko’s 5′8 but he has the posture of a goblin so he looks about 5′6

Sokka was VERY mad when he realized Zuko was actually taller than him

Zuko’s favorite comedian is Bo Burnham and Sokka’s is Will Arnett

Sokka’s a shopaholic

Zuko’s an alcoholic but the wine mom way

He drinks with pretty much every meal but he’s like ‘it’s just wine don’t worry about it’

Sokka is very worried about it

They watch the Great British Bake Off together OBSESSIVELY

They would both fist fight Paul Hollywood

Zuko listens to Jimmy Buffett when he gets really depressed and that’s why he won’t share his Spotify Wrapped on Instagram

They go on dates to the graveyard

They may or may not have been caught banging on the graves

Zuko still owns a lot of rodeo clothing that he occasionally whips out when he feels like he needs to spice up his wardrobe

Whenever he does this, Sokka quotes the ‘Country boy, I love you’ vine at him repeatedly

Sokka makes Zuko film his thirst trap TikToks

On the triangle of ‘gays get one’ between being good at driving, math, or cooking, Zuko got driving, Sokka got math

Neither of them are great cooks so they have to get meal packages from like hello fresh or smthn

They’re really domestic and stupid when they cook them together

Sokka makes a bunch of flirty food puns and Zuko kisses Sokka’s neck whenever he’s stirring something

Sokka is lactose intolerant but he thinks he can muscle through it

Wow this is a lot but I love these two idiots and you asked.

#zukka #asks #wow this is a lot of projecting #Also the Zuko takes people on graveyard dates is CANON #He takes mai on a date to his ancestors grave in the comics #king shit #atla headcanons #zukka headcanons #zukka hc #zukka modern au #zuko headcanon #sokka headcanon #zuko hc #sokka hc #gnc sokka #zuko x sokka #cowboy zuko

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

beach please

pairing: rex / reader / cody

word count: 6166

summary: once the war ended, you retreated to scarif for much-needed time to recenter yourself. rex and cody worry when you don’t answer your comms for days and leave coruscant to find you, fearing the worst. turns out you’ve just been drinking and partying, now sporting two new tattoos.

a/n: the self-created duke of scarif is jimmy buffett & i was inspired by his song “margaritaville” & “beach please” by kevin fowler.

canon changes: everyone listened to fives abt the chips & palps was discovered to be a sith lord. the clones were given human rights, a generously low locked-in rent if they lived on coruscant, and as much back pay as the republic could afford (not much but better than nothing).

“master y/l/n, there’s still so much to be done-”

“and you can have someone else do it. you must not be capable of recognizing the importance of reevaluating the way we interpret the code, or else this conversation wouldn’t be occurring.”

obi-wan blanched at the barely tamed fury radiating from your force signature. this was the second time in less than a year that he felt something so raging from your force signature, the time before this meeting being the aftermath of umbara. before the nightmare that was the siege on the shadow planet, it had been decades since you were angry enough about something to raise your voice to the council. it took a very great transgression to ignite your anger into something scathing and this meeting was doing exactly that.

the council was meeting to discuss the senate’s plans to have the jedi spearhead efforts to repair the galaxy and quell the revolts in areas that still wanted to continue the war. palpatine was manipulating both sides and if it weren’t for fives and kix, the republic would have been none the wiser when chancellor palpatine executed the order to have the clones murder their jedi.

“how are we going to guide the galaxy through the changing times if we’re unable to reevaluate our own beliefs and how the war impacted them? so many of our padawans were raised in this war, far different than how they should have been brought up.” your mind drifted to ahsoka and late-night conversations spent trying to make sense of the reality of war and how she’d been nothing but a soldier since she left the temple at fourteen. “the senate is not our responsibility nor our lead authority. we were their pawns once and despite seeing the consequences on geonosis, we let ourselves get wrapped in politics. think of what we lost because of it.”

eeth koth was deeply disturbed by your entire demeanor as well as the words spilling from your lips. if there was ever a jedi that made you want to leave the order, he’d be it. douchebag. “our duty is to the galaxy, to maintain peace! you can’t expect us to sit back and do nothing when people are struggling!”

obi-wan shared your sentiment but strived for more unity than polarization within the meeting. “but aren’t we struggling just as much as the rest of the galaxy? time must be allotted for us to heal the wounds of war before we’ll be able to successfully help others that are suffering, if that’s what’s agreed upon.” a few jedi nodded their agreement, masters plo and gallia among them. shaak looks close to being convinced but seems to still be hesitant to comment on her opinion.

“in order to help the galaxy, we must help ourselves. our emotions must be looked into with more than just the intent to throw them away at a moment’s notice. knowing why we feel the things we do can help us with far more than just our connection to the force.”

this was an idea that obi-wan has spent many years struggling with but it took the end of the war to guide him into believing that emotions aren’t the enemy, it’s how they’re utilized that counts. he explained this concept to his fellow council members and it was a sentiment you agreed with immensely.

saese scoffs at the mere idea of doing more with emotions besides dispelling them into the force. “that sounds a lot like allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement, master kenobi, something your lineage is quite popular for-” oh he crossed the line. saese was not about to talk shit about your creche mate and closest friend or his lineage and get away with it.

“no need to pardon my language, master, but it sounds a lot like you’re allowing your own emotional shortcomings and the bantha fodder you call intelligence to cloud your judgement.”

even mace was stunned at the verbal jab that came from your seat. kit had been mid-drink and it took him several seconds to recover from the way he choked on his water. you were normally calm and collected, a voice of reason amid the chaos. this time, however, you were at your limit. this was your cue to leave.

mace spoke up as you neared the door. “y/l/n, where do you think you’re going?”

“i’m going to heal and allow myself to enjoy the peace we gave nearly everything to obtain. if you want to join me, feel free to let me know.”

your robes billowed out behind you as the council meeting dissolved into chaos. you were convinced that if your seat was close enough to master yoda’s that you’d be sporting a few new gimer stick bruises. thank the force for the little things.

later that evening, you boarded your personal ship and set the coordinates for scarif. that was the perfect place to go as a jedi that didn’t want to be found by anyone that they didn’t fully trust. who would think to find a monk on a planet filled with booze, sex, and other carnal pleasures? a few comms were sent telling the recipients that you were going on vacation and to call if you were needed, giving them a new private commlink and vague hints at where you’d be.

scarif, here i come.

“she hasn’t commed us in nearly a week! what reason is there to not worry?”

“rex, she would have called us if there was something wrong.”

“you know as well as i do that there are still radical seppies trying to keep the war going. the kidnapping of a jedi would surely be cause to fight!”

cody sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. he conceded that you ignoring their comms was highly unusual, yes, but you weren’t the type to throw yourself heedlessly into danger like some of the other jetti they knew (cough cough, skywalker and kenobi). “no one in their right mind is going to think to look for a jedi on scarif, the place is too carefree and without a permanent stuck up its shebs.”

rex knew there was a valid point to the statement. he vaguely recollects general kenobi’s mild yet humorous complaints about the “uncivilized, booze-blooded” inhabitants of the beach planet. general skywalker’s only problem with scarif, it seems, was the fact there was sand nearly everywhere, the drunks and constant parties posing no issue to the younger jedi. the reason for his disdain of sand was never expanded upon.

“i’m still going to look for her, feel free to come with.” they were free men who had no one to report to, no one telling them where they could go or when to eat and sleep, so of course rex was going to look for you. with this newfound freedom cody and rex moved into a middle-level apartment together, nothing too fancy but quite a contrast to their former living spaces under the gar.

rex chose to join the police force on coruscant and quickly climbed the ranks, excelling in every task thrown at him. he was a force to be reckoned with, crime rates dropping rapidly within his first month.

cody hasn’t made a new career choice yet, the commander still trying to find his own path. he had tried his hand on the police force but he quickly realized it wasn’t his cup of tea and left rex to it. he’s helping with groceries and other living costs with his back pay despite rex’s protests for him to put it to better use (what better use is there for credits than helping you survive day to day? that’s what they’re made for).

they were given a ship by general skywalker -anakin, rex’s mind supplied; he had corrected them many times about not using the rank- that the man had modified himself because he “wouldn’t want any friends of mine flying around the galaxy in a piece of junk.” apparently any sort of ship/speeder/droid/anything not built and/or modified by the man was inferior in nearly every imaginable way. it was a kind and meaningful gesture that anakin was willing to go to such lengths to protect them, no matter how unnecessary. the war was over after all, there was no need to have blaster attachments on their civilian speeder.

“like i’m gonna leave you to your own devices, di’kut. of course i’m going with.”

“you better hurry and pack, i’m planning on leaving no later than 1800.”

sitting in the reclined beach chair with two margaritas, you haven’t enjoyed yourself this much in a long time. the togrutan brother and sister you met soon after your arrival had become dear friends in your two months on scarif, the three of you becoming a trio commonly seen hitting the best parties all over the planet. miek wasn’t as much of a party animal in comparison to his sister briel who was known for her wild drunken antics.

you had been there and lived in your small ship for a total of two days before they offered you a place with them. no one lived alone on scarif, they said, and it would be wrong to let you continue to be deprived of the peace the waters brought when it was lulling you to sleep.

meeting the duke of scarif during your first week planetside was quite an exhilarating experience, to put it briefly. duke buffett was an older man with hair as white as the sands he loved to party on day and night, one hand perpetually occupied by a drink and a guitar strapped to his back. he was known to play and sing during the parties he attended, his carefree attitude evident in his voice.

although no one would have guessed by looking at him, he was a fierce conservationist who would either have his guards fight anyone caught littering or, if drunk enough, would fight them himself. you’ve held him back a time or two when he clearly wasn’t in shape to do said fighting and helped ease the situation back to a fun normal.

now you weren’t a heavy drinker by any means, but your tolerance was better than most because of your connection to the force. this made you a favorite drinking buddy to many of the planet’s permanent inhabitants and tourists. of these numbers was the duke himself whom you would sometimes humor by opening drinks with your lightsaber. it was a splendid game that won you diplomatic immunity (apparently he can do that) on the planet after two weeks of jedi party tricks and fight-preventing.

time had become even more of a social construct than you had believed it to be before the war. there were parties going on at all hours of the day and night and the concept of solitude was forgotten. everyone here extended a hand to each other, friend or not-yet friend (there were no strangers on scarif, just friends you haven’t made yet). what little pain felt was carried by all until it was so faint that it seemed to heal itself. the waters healed, you had no doubt in your mind.

the sun was high in the sky when the ship landed next to yours behind your current residence. you were, of course, not home to know where it landed but you did see said ship flying overhead as you relaxed on a blanket next to briel and miek. maybe they were lost, but you had confidence that someone on the island would help them in what they need. this was the way of scarif, after all.

you were distracted by the drinks in both of your hands, alternating sips between the two. you were outfitted in a flowy summer dress that had ridden up a smidge too high while you were lounging on a reclined beach chair. briel was rubbing - lotion? sunscreen? - something on your exposed thighs as you relaxed, enjoying the way the breeze felt on the moisturized skin.

this was the best decision you’ve ever made, coming to scarif. eventually you were going to leave, yeah, but that was a problem for future you. for now, you were going to enjoy the endless sunshine and copious amounts of alcohol that aided in your relaxation.

they had seen the docking bay protruding into the sky like a gundark among loth-cats and decided instantly that you weren’t going to be there. you had told them ages ago that the vibes (you used that word a lot to describe force things to them) that came from industrial buildings bothered you terribly. something along the lines of wearing on your psyche, if they remembered correctly. instead, they flew a little lower than they probably should have to search the ground for where you landed your ship.

it took longer than they would have liked it to, but your ship was eventually found behind a medium-sized hut not too far from one of the many beaches. cody found just the right angle to land next to it and not hurt either shuttle, not trusting rex to touch the controls (his vod was a terrible pilot).

both men decided that even if scarif was a peaceful planet, they still didn’t know what to expect, so they equipped themselves with their blasters and lower armor before leaving their ship. first order of business: check to see if you were in your ship. if you weren’t, they could cross that bridge when they got there.

just as they were beginning to open the ramp, a man emerged from the hut and began to storm their way. he was togrutan, with yellow skin and lavender stripes on his lekku and montrals.

“hey! you two! what’s your business with that shuttle?” he sounded like he was ready to fight them about the ship, which worried the brothers, but he slowed his advance when he noticed the two blasters pointed in his direction. good, this guy wasn’t a complete di’kut.

cody was the first to lower his weapon, quick to take the diplomatic approach. rex followed suit but didn’t soften the intimidating stare he threw at the man. there was a reason your ship was there and they were going to stop at nothing to find out why. “we’re looking for a friend of ours, she hasn’t answered our comms in over a week and we were worried, it isn’t like her to not reply. last we talked to her she was here on scarif.”

the togrutan paused for a moment, inspecting the appearances of the men (clones, his mind told him, the telltale armor and near identical faces hiding nothing) in front of him.

the blond had an air of confidence about him, an almost dangerous sort of confidence. his armor was painted with a shade of blue that was pleasantly similar to the waters he just returned from, pieces of it chipped from what he supposed were rough times in battle. his jaw was set, hand hovering above where he holstered his weapon seconds before.

he didn’t appear to be bloodthirsty, just protective; who he wanted to protect, however, was still a mystery. there was a passion in his eyes that wasn’t even mildly held back. he seemed to be skilled in channeling that passion into his every thought, every action. with a note to himself to not get on this man’s bad side, he switched his focus on the blond’s companion.

miek’s gaze shifted to the other clone and quickly decided that he liked this one better. there was an extremely intimidating scar along the side of his face, yet this one seemed far less willing to shoot him on sight. he still has a grit and presence about him that told miek that this one wouldn’t hesitate to fuck your shit up if need be, but he had tact (thank the stars one of the clones had a sense of discretion).

he could tell that this one had some sort of authority over the blond, clearly serving as a high percentage of the other’s common sense. miek’s mind, after analyzing the men thoroughly, gives names for the men before they introduce themselves. “you must be the famed rex and cody! come, i’ll take you to the shoreline!”

he gestured for them to follow him and was genuinely shocked when instead of doing as he suggested, he was tackled to the ground. miek spit away everything that had gotten into his mouth, unable to move when one of the men pinned him down. this was officially miek’s worst day in over a decade.

he caught a glimpse of marigold stripes on leg armor just over his shoulder, confirming the identity of the man on top of him as rex. “how do you know our names?!” rex’s voice sent a shiver down miek’s spine (the blaster against his back also helped in that), and the togrutan reaffirmed his choice in his favorite clone: not rex.

“i’ve heard stories about you two! from y/n! i’m assuming you’re here about y/n, right?” the blaster was removed from his back and a little bit of the weight was taken off him. he must be saying something right. “she’s been staying with my sister and i, and i promise you she’s perfectly safe!” rex moves his weight completely off him now, allowing miek to stand back up but not move more than a few feet away from him.

“where is she?” cody’s voice was hauntingly low, nothing about him betraying his tension except for the hard glare felt like lasers. he had the same desire, same yearning to protect someone - that someone miek now knew was you - and it burned brighter than a hundred suns.

“last i saw her was thirty minutes ago on the shore with briel, my sister. i can take you to them if you would kindly not threaten to shoot me again. my name is miek, and i would say it was a pleasure to meet you both but then i’d be making myself a liar.” he had no idea where that bit of snark at the end came from but it seemed to sway the clones to his favor. why it did, he had no clue, but at least he wasn’t getting shot.

they walked silently for a few minutes, the two troopers beginning to slightly admire the view while keeping eyes on miek. it was a beautiful planet, there was no denying that. you were surely enjoying yourself in the sunshine, always finding a little bit of time to bask in the nature of whatever planet you ended up on during the war.

it was strange to cody, not feeling eyes on him as he walked with rex on the beach. when he would accompany general ke- obi-wan on trips to the temple or into the streets of coruscant, he constantly felt the eyes of many on him. they would be expressing curiosity, shock, disdain, or something in between, and cody could feel every bit of it. here, it seemed, no one cared that he was a clone. no one was leering at him for walking too close to them or for just breathing the same air as them. cody was blissfully able to blend with the people here and he loved it.

he was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice when miek had come to a stop in front of a small cluster of reclinable chairs. a large umbrella provided the area with a patch of shade and a smidge of reprieve from the sun’s blistering heat.

“see? she’s perfectly fine.” miek’s voice broke their precious silence. “i’m assuming you both can find your own way back to your ship, so i’ll be headed off.” miek left them quite quickly and rex guessed (with a bit more amusement than was warranted) that it was because he nearly shot the man on more than one occasion minutes earlier.

“cody! rex! when did you two get here?”

a familiar voice drew their attention and it took them a second longer than it should have for them to realize that yes, you were the one lounging in front of them as if it’s all you’ve ever done in your life. you were extremely relaxed and your posture conveyed your state perfectly, two margaritas perched in loose hands, both half-empty. an ivory summer dress flowed loosely around you, the front hiked a bit too high for the men to keep their imaginations under control. that wasn’t even acknowledging the neckline of your dress (or lack thereof) that made their throats a bit dry and minds slip into the gutter.

rex and cody cleared their heads after indulging the images for a second, the latter clearing his throat before replying, “just a few minutes ago. you haven’t answered our comms in over a week. rex had the idea to come and visit to see how you were doing, so here we are.”

that was really sweet of them to check up on you, you thought with a smile. you felt a bit guilty about not answering their comms. normally you were careful to reply to theirs and every other message you received soon after getting it, but as stated earlier, time has become a social construct that didn’t really matter while on scarif. you gestured for them to sit, and they took the open chair to your left. they didn’t bother laying back, just sitting shoulder to shoulder in the same chair with their eyes on you.

offering them both half-drank margaritas was a subconscious action on your part that surprised you. what shocked you even more was the fact they accepted the drinks with soft, fond smiles. kriff you missed them, how you’ve been able to go this long without seeing them was beyond you.

you smiled warmly as you introduced your boys to briel, who was smirking a bit too widely than would be deemed safe (you didn’t notice this, seeing as you were too busy drinking in the sight of your boys and the way the sunlight made their eyes glow). her eyes drifted to your thighs as she put in very little effort to hide a laugh. dark clone trooper eyes decided to see what was so amusing to the togruta, and they choked on whatever words they were contemplating.

on your thighs were rex and cody, left and right respectively. or, more accurately, on your thighs were six-inch tattoos of rex and cody.

both men were in quite show-offy poses, appearing to have the intent to make them look like pin-ups. the lower half of their armor was equipped but they were shirtless, faint details of scars and sweat appearing to glisten in imaginary sunlight.

cody’s face was set in a smolder the likes of which would send half the women in the galaxy into puddles at the commander’s feet. his dc-15a was held aloft in his right hand while his left arm was holding his helmet in place in the crook of his hip. his left foot was stepping on a small heap of droids which brought his knee up a bit, and he was facing the inked rex on the opposite thigh.

rex’s wild smile could catch the soggiest piece of kindling alight with the allure and charm it held. his eyes were sparkling with a pleasant mirth not often seen in the man. both hands wielded his trusted dc-17’s, the right blaster pointed at the droids under cody’s foot while the left was pointed in the air, blaster bolts coming out of both. his helmet was under his right foot, jaig eyes almost peering into your soul and welding marks visible from his customization of the phase 2 helmet.

commander and captain are both beginning to flush at the art in front of them. they were flattered to see drawings of themselves look so dashing, and seeing it on your body roused feelings they had spent years repressing. their biggest question now was whether their likenesses on your body translated into something more on your end.

“nice to finally meet my friend’s muses,” briel quips, “it’s hard to get her to talk about something that isn’t you two when she’s plastered.” she pauses a moment, thinking of her next words and chuckling to herself. “she’s barely spent three consecutive days completely sober since she got here, which means that you two are almost all she talks about.”

this deepened the heat in their cheeks as you playfully swatted at briel’s shoulder. “that is not true!” a moment of silence. “wait, what day is it? that miiiight make a difference.”

rex chortles at the admission. “glad to see you enjoying yourself, cyare. but kix would be enraged to hear that you’ve been drinking nearly every day for two months, and we can’t exactly blame him.” he grinned as he took an experimental sip of the drink you gave him. it was stronger than he expected, but it had an underlying sweetness not often found in margaritas. he liked it.

sitting up, your dress covered your ink as you expertly drank from the margarita in cody’s hand while he still held it. the commander sent you a soft glare, wondering why you didn’t just get a new drink but enjoying the moment nonetheless. “kix shmix, his face isn’t on my thigh so i don’t really care what he has to say right now.” you lean toward cody and rex before whispering, “you didn’t bring him, did you?”

all three of them guffawed at the question, you joining their laughter solely because of how happy the joy radiating from your boys’ force signatures made you.

calling them your boys had become second nature after mere months of fighting beside them. you spent an inane amount of time with them during planning and actual combat, and were just as much their general as their actual generals were (despite you not carrying the honorific). any free time was spent with one or the other if available, but if they were both occupied you would make your way toward the barracks and join a few games of sabacc.

there were nights you’d spend in the barracks with either battalion (depends on which group you were assigned to at the time) and be welcomed there as if you were a fellow clone. they taught you to play sabacc and you enjoyed playing with them despite the fact you had the most rotten luck with the game.

winning didn’t carry any weight when you were able to spend time with rex and cody, shamelessly basking in the way they always seemed to have some sort of physical contact with you every moment possible. when rex and/or cody returned from whatever responsibilities held them earlier, the men were quick to relinquish them a seat next to you with a sly grin.

their vode noticed the affection shared for the jedi on sabacc night number two and didn’t hesitate to spread word of it around to the rest of their battalions and beyond. on the nights you accompanied them on trips to 79’s, men under rex and cody both (read: fives and boil) made sure that the rest of their brothers and the occasional civvie knew that you three were off-limits to anyone but each other. you were their jetti & they were your captain and commander, no one would get between that even if it wasn’t decided among those in question.

“nah, he’s kept his head in his work. he just got his civvie medical license, started his own private practice on naboo.” rex was extremely happy for his brother, although it was strange to not see him nearly every day. it took a while before he was used to the lack of vode around him at all moments, but cody has been a massive help with that transition.

cody nodded before adding onto his brother’s statement. “and besides, we’re not that cruel, cyar’ika.” you grinned at the endearing tone, choosing that moment to snag another drink from the glass in cody’s hand. he swatted at your hand gently but didn’t put up a fight otherwise, just smiling at how carefree you’d become.

during their comms you did sound at peace, and the times where you’d appear via hologram to him your posture was less rigid than it was during wartime. scarif was good for you, cody knew this. the knowledge of your happiness, however, couldn’t prevent selfish thoughts from returning to the front of his mind. thoughts of you leaving scarif with him and rex, lighting up their apartment better than the sun with nothing but a smile were pipe dreams he indulged in when nightmares of war caught up to him.

“y’know,” you began, “no one would ever tell me what that word really meant.” the men froze, trying to play it off. they were saved only by the fact you kept talking. “none of the men ever gave me a straight answer, just saying that it was something you say to someone you trusted. i even asked duchess satine about it when i was on mandalore. she asked who was using the word and when i told her it was you two, she just grinned like a tooka with a rat tail hanging from its mouth.”

duchess satine was most definitely going to be receiving a gift in the near future.

briel chose that moment to speak for the first time in a while, crossing her arms behind her head. “i’ve never been to mandalore nor heard a lick of what i’m guessing is its native language, but you’d have to be a fool to not guess its meaning by now.” her words were directed at you but they made the men sputter.

“what is that supposed to mean, brie?”

“seriously? please tell me you’re kidding.”

briel was absolutely incredulous. how could a member of the highly revered jedi order, known for the wisdom of its members, not read between the lines? they were giving her plenty to work with in terms of evidence of their affections that they weren’t hiding very well, how did you not know?!

silence followed her words and she came to the startling realization that you were, in fact, not kidding. “look at them, these two adore you! they followed you here like stray tookas when you didn’t comm them enough.” the men didn’t even bother looking offended as they were called out by the togruta. they were scared you’d be disgruntled at the blatant show of care for you but briel wasn’t done. “sithspit y/n, you got tattoos of them because you said you missed them so much!”

hold on, rewind, what did she just say?!

“you… missed us?” rex’s voice was softer than anyone had heard it be in a long time. part of him aches to throw his drink over his shoulder and take you into his arms with no regard to the outside world, yet he restrains himself. this could very well be a trap, an illusion or extremely detailed dream the likes of which he’s never experienced.

then again, how would that explain his mind creating a taste for something he’s never had before?

he concluded that this was indeed real, and he very well could do exactly as his heart desires if he let go for just a moment, just long enough for the contents of his glass to seep into the sand and his calloused hands to roam your exposed skin.

but he also remembers long talks with his ori’vod about their mutual affections for you. how selfish and uncaring it would be for him to try and keep you to himself after spending so many nights lamenting with cody about the way you made them both feel more human. the way you tethered them to sanity when the war threatened to dispose of what little control they had over themselves or their fates, the softness of your fingers intertwined with theirs whenever you had the chance. both men would contemplate the way you’d taste as you downed several shots at 79’s or cups of the contraband moonshine brewed by the men, wondering how much would be the alcohol and how much would be you and wishing that they could find out.

it would be a betrayal far greater and even more despicable than that of palpatine and the republic, and rex didn’t think he could handle losing the respect of his ori’vod no matter what was given in return. not even you.

the togruta woman officially lost the last speck of patience she held for the clueless, lovesick trio, groaning that she gave up as she left them to their own devices.

you were confused. why would you not miss them? did those years of fighting next to them and caring about them and loving them not translate to the idea of missing them when they were gone? yeah you were a little tipsy when you got your tattoos, but that didn’t change the facts as to why you got them: you wanted cody and rex by your side and moments spent without them were moments spent unhappy. they were your boys, the two reasons you kept fighting in that cursed war instead of returning to the temple with your tail between your legs at the first sign of combat.

cody downed his margarita with a solid gulp before taking your right hand in both of his, face twisted almost identically to his brother’s while processing the information you presented. he marveled in the familiar grooves and calluses from battle that were beginning to soften, thoroughly enjoying the fact he didn’t have to hide anything from you or the rest of the galaxy about the love - cody was sure now that this was indeed love - he held for you and you alone.

“is that true, cyar’ika?” cody’s voice was sickeningly hopeful. he’s never allowed himself to hope, knowing that diving too deep into desire could lead to consequences tantamount to death. hearing you stumble over your words as you admitted to loving him, loving him and rex both in the same capacity, cracked the last mask of stoicism he had in his reserves. his mouth was smiling but his eyes were wet, and anyone who didn’t know him would think the man was karking mad.

you weren’t as focused on your boys as you would have been any other moment, too busy trying to figure out what you said for cody to ask about and oh. holy shit, i said all of that out loud. then, a brief moment of clarity. i said every bit of that, but they’re not leaving. they’re instead moving closer, taking my hands in theirs and then- “have i ever lied to either of you?” your heart once again overpowered your brain, taking over your vocal chords and bringing voice to your thoughts.

rex nestled his glass into the sand before going to his knees in front of you, eyes sparkling from both the scarif sun and unshed tears. “you could never, ner’jetti.” he rested his chin on your knee not blocked by cody, his subconscious deciding to nuzzle his head into the hand that had come up to his face.

within seconds, the clunky armor had taken to the sand. they didn’t startle at the sudden exposure to just their bottom blacks because they could feel the soft humming of the force around them, knowing that it was merely you making them more comfortable. you were pulling them toward you and into your reclined chair, rex’s chin in one hand and cody’s hands in the other. they were quick to take a hint, immediately moving to either side of you to lay on their sides, facing their jetti with soft smiles.

rex made quick work of wrapping an arm around your waist, face burying itself into the crook of your neck as best he could. he inhaled your scent, the familiar ozone that came with the force mingling wonderfully with scarif’s ocean water and the tropical drinks you’ve been keeping yourself busy with.

cody tangled one hand into your hair, fingers softly moving as he rested his other arm slightly above his brother’s. the hand touching your waist softly stroked your side as he let his eyes drift closed, the force wrapped around him like a blanket of protection.

no one spoke of love in the hours you spent wrapped in each other’s arms in that uncomfortable-for-three-people chair. the admissions and conveyance of all the love held between the three of you was saved for the privacy of their ship. cody and rex worshiped you and you did the same for them, no one allowing there to be a single doubt as to where your hearts belong.

#star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex imagines #commander cody #commander cody x reader #commander cody imagine #captain rex x reader x commander cody #poly rex x reader x cody #commander cody x reader x captain rex #beach please #this is fluffy as hell #i refuse to ship him with qui-gon #ct-7567 #cc-2224

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fairytales-of-yesterday · 4 years

Text

A Pirate, Two Hundred Years Too Late

Pairing: Gardner Langway x reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: idk it’s really soft, if you’re rowan you’ll probably cry, there’s like.. one? swear word? and references to sex

A/N: Happy birthday, Rowan!!! You’re the love of my life, and I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have a best friend and soulmate like you :’)

The title is from a Jimmy Buffett song (A Pirate Looks at Forty), I know it’s super long. I’m just really soft and I love Rowan that’s all, here we go, lads.

•

You awoke to the sound of silence. Something you definitely weren’t used to anymore. Soft morning light peeked through your curtains as you yawned quietly. Stretching, you rubbed your eyes and looked out the window and squinted at the dim sky, realizing it was still extremely early.

Much too early to be awake.

If the sun wasn’t even up yet, why on earth should you be? You squeezed your eyes shut once more, trying to hold on to those last few moments of sleep, and rolled over to cuddle up with your husband. At least, you tried to.

Your brow furrowed, eyes still shut, as you tentatively stuck your arm out and felt around the other side of the bed, as if Gardner was somehow hiding under the sheets. Whining quietly, you gave up and opened your eyes. Sure enough, you were alone.

With a small frown, you rolled over again to glance at the clock.

Five thirty. Christ, what could he be up to?

You moved onto your back, staring at the ceiling and letting yourself wake up. It was when you finally sat up that you realized you knew exactly where he was.

Throwing your covers off, you yawned once more and clambered out of bed. You stood for a moment, eyes closed, just listening to the sound of a quiet house. Your kids had been visiting your parents the past few days for a summer visit, and while you were very happy to have a little time to rest, you still found yourself missing them. It had been so long since the house was quiet, empty. You missed their hugs, the way they’d snuggle up next to you on the couch, and even their shrieks as they played pretend in the backyard. Penny, your five-year-old, had a tendency to rope Ben, who was three, into countless make-believe games that left them both in hysterics. They climbed all over Gardner like he was their personal jungle gym, and you were often roped into a piggyback ride as well. Still, as much as you loved the peace, you certainly loved them more.

You couldn’t complain about the alone time you were getting with Gardner though. You loved your quiet morning cuddles, not worrying about figuring out lunch for everyone, and being able to make as much noise as you wanted whenever you wanted (he always did have a hard time keeping quiet).

You played with the hem of your shirt (well, Gardner’s shirt, but that was beside the point), as you made your way into the bathroom, and smiled at your tired reflection. Your hair stuck up in every direction, reminding you of your time with Gardner last night, and you waggled your eyebrows at yourself playfully. You did your best to tame your mane before finishing getting ready for the day. After slipping on some shorts, you headed downstairs.

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a peach from the fridge and going to wash it. As you ran the fruit under the cool water, you felt a slight pressure against your leg and looked down to find your cat, Tybalt, purring at your feet. You smiled down at him and greeted him sweetly, receiving a happy “mrrap!” in return. He weaved between your legs a few times, his usual morning greeting, and then hopped up on the counter to watch you cut up your breakfast.

As you placed the peach slices in a bowl and subsequently gently pushed Tybalt’s face away from them, you looked out the window above the sink and your suspicions were confirmed. Out in the backyard stood your husband and his brother. They’d been at this for days, and while they’d done a fantastic job, you definitely thought five thirty was a bit much.

Still, you had to smile. Sure, the man never ceased to amaze you, but his devotion to his children was no surprise at all.

You stepped out the back door, breakfast in hand, and breathed in the morning air. The sun was fully up now, the only trace of the sunrise the pink smudges in the clouds. You popped a slice of peach into your mouth as you watched your husband fondly.

Before you stood a pirate ship. Or at least, a large model of one. You and Gardner had wanted to do this for a while now, you certainly had the backyard for it, but you’d been putting it off. You’d known it was going to be difficult, and you had no idea what the kids would want. You had considered asking them directly, but you could never find the right time. That is, until last week when you were looking online for some new Fourth of July decorations. Somehow, the two of you got very sidetracked, and wound up looking at playsets. You hadn’t planned on actually buying one until you saw Gardner’s face as he pointed to the pirate ship.

Their own boat!!! Like our family one but just for them!!!

You had laughed at his excitement, but his words struck a chord. His boat was his home for so long. Penny and Ben knew that, and they loved going out on the river with their dad, playing pirates and helping him navigate, so you could only imagine how ecstatic they’d be to have one for themselves. You just knew you had to.

It wasn’t an easy task. Gardner and Calvin had spent the past four days working on it. They’d just gotten all the materials and a complicated set of instructions in the mail, so it was basically built from scratch. Also, it wasn’t his fault, but your husband wasn’t too skilled in the DIY department (putting together the ikea furniture for your first apartment with him was a nightmare), so the first day or so was spent teaching him how to use a power drill. However, after you made it over that hurdle, it was relatively smooth sailing.

You looked on now with a grin as Gardner and Calvin painted their prized creation. The red paint shone bright in the morning sun, and it looked truly gorgeous. Royal and fierce at the same time. The perfect pirate ship.

“A bit early isn’t it?”

The boys looked up at your shout, Gardner almost dropping his paintbrush in surprise, and you waved. Both waved back, and you began making your way over with a smile. Gardner tossed his brush in the bucket on the patio table he’d dragged to the “construction site” as you walked over, wiping his hands on his pants to get some of the paint off.

You greeted him with a sweet kiss when you reached him, murmuring a good morning against his lips and asking how he was.

He broke the kiss and licked his lips, grinning.

“Mm, peachy.”

You laughed loudly at that, swatting his chest before offering him a slice that he gladly accepted.

You set your bowl down on the table and snaked your arms around him. He grinned and pulled you closer as you squeezed him tight, having missed your regular morning cuddle. He tucked his face into your neck, breathing you in. You stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being together, but eventually your hands began traveling south and slipped into the back pockets of his paint splattered overalls. Gardner chuckled softly as he realized what was going on but still yelped as you gave him a good squeeze.

“Mm… you are quite peachy, aren’t you?”

He giggled breathily at that, but you could hear the blush adorning his face. He nestled further into your shoulder, hiding his pink cheeks, and you shook with a laugh.

“You better watch those hands,” he mumbled against your skin, “I’m a married man, you know.”

“At least I know you’re faithful.”

You playfully pulled his hair as you said it, and he pulled back to give you a look that said ‘don’t start something you can’t finish.’ You were about to suggest you go inside and continue when a head peeked over the side of the boat.

You and gardner immediately sprung apart like kids caught getting a bit too handsy, giggling sheepishly. Calvin shook his head with a smile.

“So did you come out here to distract my brother, or are you gonna help us paint?”

You laughed, still bright red, and shrugged.

“I can multitask.”

Gardner fondly rolled his eyes as you donned an apron and picked up a paintbrush. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek, making Calvin scoff good naturedly and retreat back to the upper deck. You opened your mouth to ask if you should paint anywhere specific when Calvin shouted from above.

“You’ve been married for like a decade now and you still act like teenagers!”

Gardner’s head fell into his hands, embarrassed, as yours fell back in a loud laugh.

“We didn’t meet until we were in our twenties! We’re just making up for lost time!”

You heard a yeah, yeah from above and stifled a giggle before pulling Gardner close with a smirk, knowing Calvin couldn’t see.

“And it’s not my fault you’re so damn delicious,” you whispered, capturing his lips once more. He whined quietly, both out of desperation and out of protest, not wanting to be caught again. Before he could say anything though, you pulled away and smiled brightly. “So where do you want me, sweet boy?”

You saw a flash in Gardner’s eyes at the implications behind your words, but he quickly regained his composure with an exasperated grin and directed you to an unpainted section. He explained which brushes to use and how many coats to put on with his perfect little focused frown that made your heart do somersaults.

“The painting is basically all we have left,” he phrased it as a question, like he was just hoping he was correct. “We’ll definitely finish by the time the kids get home tomorrow.” Ever punctual, your husband. And you had to admit, it drove you wild.

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” you saluted jokingly before getting to work.

•

The time passed quickly, the three of you making fantastic progress together. By the time lunch rolled around, you were nearly finished. All you had left to do was finish painting the upper deck and then decorate the inside. After a quick break for sandwiches and a few drinks, you set back to work, determined to finish.

The detail work of the cabin took a lot longer than the painting of the hull, as it called for more precision. You knew that it would be easy to paint it all one color, like the outside, but you just couldn’t. It had to be perfect. Once you were satisfied, the three of you called it a night. All that was left was putting in some chairs and cushions along with some knickknacks once the paint had dried. Calvin stayed for dinner as well, insisting he had to help you finish the playhouse.

“You two can’t take ALL the credit! I’m the one who had to teach Gardner how to use a drill! Plus, I need all the ‘Cool Uncle Points’ I can get!”

Gardner choked on his takeout at that exclamation and stared at his brother, genuinely dumbfounded.

“Cal, you know they think you’re the coolest guy in the world, right? They love you!”

You watched happily as a blush spread across Calvin’s face at your husband’s words. He tried to play it cool, but no one could deny the fact that he was glowing.

“Ohhh…” he smiled softly to himself, waving off the compliment slightly, “you know what I mean. Anyone can be the coolest guy in the world. I’m gonna be the coolest uncle.”

He paused briefly as you laughed, endeared, and his smile widened before he added softly,

“And I love them too.”

After the three of you finished your meals, you checked on the playhouse. You’d planned on getting it all done tonight, but the paint hadn’t fully dried everywhere, so you decided to wait and “furnish” the ship tomorrow morning before your parents brought the kids home. Calvin made you promise to call him over help, to which you readily agreed, and he headed home.

You leaned back against your husband as you watched Calvin’s car pull out of your driveway and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Feeling okay, honey?”

You smiled softly, trying not to let your favorite term of endearment affect you too much, and nodded. Turning around in his arms, you hugged him properly.

“Mm, just tired,” you hummed, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “And paint-stained.”

He chuckled softly at that and pulled you closer again, tucking his face into your neck.

“Yeah, I could definitely go for a nice shower.”

A sly smile spread across your face.

“Oh me too… but I don’t know… our water bill was a bit high last month,” you said with a fake frown, “maybe it would be smart to… y‘know, conserve. Shower together.”

You pulled away to get a good look at the blush you knew had blossomed over your husband’s face, but the second you made eye contact, you both burst out laughing. Though you were nearly doubled over, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way his eyes crinkled at the edges and the way his perfect nose scrunched up in his joy, still awestruck by your love after all these years. You raised up on your tiptoes to press a giggly peck to his nose before quirking an eyebrow as if to say well?

He turned a deeper shade of red, somehow only now realizing that you were completely serious, but nodded quickly.

“That sounds like a uh… that’s a… sounds good.”

You nearly burst out laughing once more at your husband’s terrible attempt at concealing his excitement, but you settled on grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bathroom.

•

You laid together for a while after your shower (and what it led to), heat still radiating off your bodies. You were on top of him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, having simply collapsed after you both reached your highs. Neither of you spoke, though you knew he wasn’t asleep. You could feel his heart in sync with your own from where your chest pressed against his, their beating the only sound in your quiet house.

Lifting your head up, you looked at your husband beneath you. His freckled shoulders, his red hair, sticking out in every direction, his soft cheeks. His eyes fluttered open at your movement, and you smiled gently. Bringing a hand up, you gently moved the still damp hair out of his face, and he sighed at the touch. You brushed your thumb across his cheek and watched him lean into your hand. He nearly melted as you continued your exploration of his features, running the tip of your finger down his lovely nose before pressing a kiss to it. You could feel his soft tummy shaking with laughter under you, and it made your smile widen. He scrunched his nose up before you swiped your thumb across his lower lip and his giggle cut off abruptly. You were about to playfully tug on one of his sweet ears, but your previous touch had struck a chord with him and, before you knew it, his hand was laced in your hair and his lips were on yours.

You groaned softly into his mouth, your hands cradling his face as he smiled against you.

“God, you’re insatiable today, aren’t you?”

He giggled softly, pecking your lips once more.

“Can’t help it, just love you too much.”

At his words, you giggled softly, just so full of love, as you kissed him again. Your mouths moved in sync, quiet moans escaping you both.

Eventually pulling away for air, you leaned your forehead against his.

“And I love you too.”

With one more quick, sweet kiss, you rolled off of him with a small grunt, and he whined at the loss of contact. A laugh escaped you as you pulled on another one of his shirts.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart, I’ve just gotta set the alarm and make sure all the lights are out, okay?”

You heard a soft groan from the bed, but when you turned to face him, he was smiling sleepily.

“Okay, but be fast please, I already miss you.”

Giggling, you made your way back to the bed and kissed right between his eyebrows, murmuring a promise that you’d be back before he knew it, and set off downstairs.

He waited patiently for you as you moved about downstairs, listening to you sing to yourself. He couldn’t help but smile as he heard you have a small conversation with Tybalt. A small giggle escaped him as he heard you reminding your cat to come up to bed when he feels like it, just reminding him to make sure he’s quiet.

After a little while, you made your way back to your husband, turning the lights off in the hallway and slipping into bed behind him. Immediately, he cuddled into you, sighing sweetly at the feeling of being back in your arms. A soft smile graced your features as you pulled him even closer. You kissed the back of his neck, murmuring a soft goodnight, and he pulled one of your hands up to his lips, whispering a goodnight back.

You had worried that you wouldn’t be able to sleep, too excited to see your kids the next day, but holding your husband and feeling his deep breaths against your chest quickly calmed your nerves, and you were out like a light.

•

Thankfully, you were allowed to sleep in the next morning. You both began to stir at about nine thirty, and you thanked your lucky stars that he hadn’t woken you before sunrise again.

You laid in bed for a few extra minutes, gazing at each other and talking quietly, but before long, you were up and at ’em. You got ready for the day quickly, taking another joint shower, and making breakfast. After a bowl of cereal each, you called Calvin.

You and Gardner were standing in the backyard, simply looking at your creation, when a clap sounded from behind you.

“Alright! Let’s DO this!”

You turned to see Calvin walking over, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Gardner nodded, his endearing look of concentration appearing once more as he followed his brother on deck. You weren’t far behind, and as soon as you were up, the work began.

You moved quickly, knowing your parents would be there with the kids around lunchtime. Chairs were placed in the cabin, maps were hung up, and you even set up a little bookshelf like the ones on the Dear Sidewalk that they had commandeered for their picture books in recent years. They had their own little working compasses and a rope that rang a bell up above. A pirate’s paradise.

It was just as you put down the last cushion that you heard a car door. Your heads snapped up at the noise, and you and Gardner immediately rushed out to the front. Your kids jumped out of the car, running at you full speed the second they saw you, and you and Gardner immediately gathered them up in a huge hug. Their little voices rang out, a jumble of excited shouts, telling you how much they missed you and what they had done with their grandparents. You and Gardner listened intently, nearly tearing up just at having them home again.

After a little, you broke off from the little group hug and made your way to your parents as your kids continued to excitedly cling to their father.

“Well, it certainly sounds like you had a good time,” you chuckled as you hugged each of them. They laughed, saying yes they absolutely did, and you knew they, as well as Penny and Ben, would be sleeping soundly that night.

“You had a nice time too I hope,” your mom smiled, “I’m assuming you enjoyed the quiet?”

You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks at the thought of all that you and Gardner had gotten up to in the last few days, but you still smiled.

“Oh definitely, it was nice not to worry too much about them for a while, but I’m certainly still glad they’re home.”

You watched with a wide smile as your kids ran circles around their dad, climbing all over him and giggling loudly. He was chuckling as well, lumbering around with them on each of his legs as they screamed in excitement. They certainly took after their father, the sunlight glinting off of their auburn hair and their precious laughter ringing out. He hoisted both of them up, one on each shoulder, and turned to you with bright eyes.

“Should we tell them?”

“Tell us what?” Penny asked from Gardner’s right shoulder before you could answer. Her eyes were wide, excited at the prospect of a surprise.

“Tell us what! Tell us what!” Ben bounced on his dad’s left, always following his older sister.

“Why don’t we just show them instead?”

With a grin, you took your husband’s hand and began leading them to the backyard, your parents close behind, and stopped just before they could see the playhouse.

“Well, your dad and I-”

“And Uncle Calvin!”

You laughed at both the shout that came from around the corner and at the children’s expressions as they realized their uncle was waiting to see them.

“-and Uncle Calvin, yes, worked really hard while you were on your big kids’ trip,” you paused, smiling at their wide eyes, “and we know how much you love going out on the boat, so…”

At that moment, you gently pulled them around the corner and revealed the pirate ship in all its glory. You didn’t really know how they were going to react, but it was better than anything you could’ve hoped for. Aside from when Gardner almost dropped them because of how loud they screamed, but even that was funny after the initial shock.

Penny sprinted over to the ship as soon as she was on the ground, shouting our own pirate ship! over and over as Ben just stood and looked on in awe. Gardner knelt down next to him.

“You alright, bud?”

Ben nodded slightly, mouth hanging open.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, love?”

He looked up at his dad.

“Do we get to keep it?”

Gardner stifled his laugh, not wanting to embarrass him at all, and nodded excitedly.

“Of course you do! We built it for you!”

Ben looked at him, shocked, for one second more before running off after his sister.

Gardner stood, grunting softly, and made his way back over to you. You leaned against him with a smile.

“Dad noises.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Fitting.”

You laughed, taking his hand, and watched as your kids dragged their uncle and both grandparents aboard, showing them around. You noticed they had started calling Calvin ‘first mate,’ instructing him to raise the sails and mop the deck, and all sorts of pirate-y things. He was very quick to accept his new title, playing along and doing his ‘chores,’ looking back at the two of you with a huge smile.

As they began their game, you turned around, putting your hands on Gardner’s hips, and pulled him into a kiss. His hands immediately moved up to cradle your face, and you smiled against him. You leaned your forehead against his and squeezed his hips gently.

“I think we did good.”

You felt his good-natured scoff rather than heard it as he kissed you again, murmuring “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

His arms wrapped around you, and he moved to deepen the kiss, but a shout broke you apart.

“Pirates don’t kiss!”

You looked up, startled, to find Penny leaning over the ship’s railing, looking both embarrassed and slightly grossed out.

Her expression paired with her words and distressed tone made you double over in laughter, you just couldn’t help it. She put her little hands on her hips and stared at you, brow furrowed, as you leaned in and kissed Gardner again, yelling back, “These pirates sure do!”

You heard her sigh exaggeratedly, followed by her telling you that she needed you on deck immediately, they were about to shove off, her favorite phrase of her dad’s.

You looked at your husband, smiling softly, glad to have your little family back together. He kissed your nose, and you laughed before motioning toward the ship.

“What say we weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen?”

He sighed sweetly, looking at you in lovestruck awe, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

“Y’know, I’d marry you again if I could.”

You kissed his cheek once more, a pleased grin on your face, and pulled him toward the ship.

“Come on, dork.”

He took your hand, smiling.

“Aye aye, Mrs. Langway.”

#holy shit i'm nervous about this #rowan im sorry this took so long i love you #you're an angel #gardner langway x reader #dear sidewalk #joe mazzello #My writing #gardner langway imagine #gardner langway #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #here's hoping this is good

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thefakejeffreyazoff · 4 years

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‘He’s our Satan’: Mega music manager Irving Azoff, still feared, still fighting

(x)PEBBLE BEACH, Calif. —

This is not Irving Azoff’s house. Irving and his wife Shelli own houses all over, from Beverly Hills to Cabo San Lucas, but right now in the last week of October it’s too cold at the ranch in Idaho and too hot at the spread in La Quinta, so he’s renting this place — a modest midcentury six-bedroom that sold for $5 million back in 2016.

From the front door you can see all the way out, to where Arrowhead Point juts like the tail of a comma into the calm afternoon waters of Carmel Bay. More importantly, the house is literally across the street from the Pebble Beach Golf Links, where Azoff likes to play with his college buddy John Baruck, who started out in the music business around the same time Azoff did, in the late ’60s, and just retired after managing Journey through 20 years and two or three lead singers, depending how you count.

(Via LA Times)

Azoff is 72, and this weekend he’ll be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame alongside Bruce Springsteen’s longtime manager Jon Landau. Beatles manager Brian Epstein and Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham are already in, but Azoff and Landau are the first living managers thus honored. Azoff is not only alive — he’s still managing. As a partner in Full Stop Management — alongside Jeffrey Azoff, his oldest son and the third of his four children — he steers the careers of clients like the Eagles, Steely Dan, Bon Jovi and comedian Chelsea Handler, and consults when needed on the business of Harry Styles, Lizzo, John Mayer, Roddy Ricch, Anderson .Paak and Maroon 5. Azoff has Zoom calls at 7, 8 and 9 tomorrow morning, and only after that will he squeeze in a round.

The work never stops when you view the job the way Azoff does, as falling somewhere between consigliere and concierge. “My calls can be everything from ‘My knee buckled, I need a doctor’ to ‘My kid’s in jail,’” Azoff says. “I mean, you have no idea. The ‘My kid’s in jail’ one was a funny one, because the artist then said to me, ‘Y’know, I’ve thought about this. Maybe we should leave him there for a while.’”

Golf entered Azoff’s life the way a lot of things have — via the Eagles, whom Azoff has managed since the early ’70s. Specifically, Azoff took up golf in the company of the late Glenn Frey, the jockiest Eagle, the one the other Eagles used to call “Sportacus.” By the time the Eagles returned to the road in the ’90s they’d left their debauched ’70s lifestyles largely behind, but Azoff and Frey got hooked on the little white ball.

“Frey would insist on booking the tour around where he wanted to play golf,” Azoff says. “We made Henley crazy. Henley would call me in my room and he’d go, ‘Why the f— are we in a hotel in Hilton Head North Carolina and starting a tour in Charlotte? Is this a f— golf tour?’”

Trailed by Larry Solters, the Eagles’ preternaturally dour minister of information, Azoff makes his way down the hill from the house for dinner at the golf club’s restaurant. He’s only 5 feet, 3 inches, a diminutive Sydney Pollack in jeans and a zip-up sweater. In photos from the ’70s — when he was considerably less professorial in comportment, a hipster exec with a spring-loaded middle finger — he sports a beard and a helmet of curly hair and mischievous eyes behind his shades, and looks a little like a Muppet who might scream at Kermit over Dr. Teeth’s appearance fee.

His father was a pharmacist and his mother was a bookkeeper. He grew up in Danville, Ill., booked his first shows in high school to pay for college, dropped out of college to run a small Midwestern concert-booking empire and manage local acts such as folk singer Dan Fogelberg and heartland rock band REO Speedwagon. Los Angeles soon beckoned. He met the Eagles while working for David Geffen and Elliot Roberts’ management company and followed the band out the door when they left the Geffen fold; they became the cornerstone of his empire. “I got my swagger from Glenn Frey and Don Henley,” he says. “No doubt about it.”

Azoff never took to pot or coke. The Eagles lived life in the fast lane; he was the designated driver. “Artists,” he once observed, “like knowing the guy flying the plane is sober.” This didn’t stop him from trashing his share of hotel rooms, frequently with guitarist Joe Walsh — whose solo career Azoff shepherded before Walsh joined the Eagles, and who was very much not sober at this time — as an accomplice.

“This was a different age,” Walsh says of his time as the band’s premier lodging-deconstructionist. “We could do anything we wanted, so we did. And Irving’s role was to keep us out of prison, basically.” He recalls a pleasant evening in Chicago in the company of John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, which culminated in Walsh laying waste to a suite at the Astor Towers hotel that turned out to be the owner’s private apartment. “We had to check out with a lawyer and a construction foreman,” Walsh remembers. “But Irving took care of it. Without Irving, I’d still be in Chicago.”

Azoff became even more infamous for the pit bull brio he brought to business negotiations on behalf of the Eagles and others, including Stevie Nicks and Boz Scaggs. He didn’t seem to care if people liked him, and his artists loved him for that. Steely Dan co-founder Walter Becker said they’d hired Azoff because he “impressed us with his taste for the jugular … and his bizarre spirit.” Jimmy Buffett’s wife grabbed him outside a show at Madison Square Garden, pushed him into the back of a limo and said, You have to manage Jimmy, although Buffett already had a manager at the time.

His outsized reputation as an advocate not just willing but eager to scorch earth on behalf of his clients became an advertisement for his services, a phenomenon that continues to this day. In August 2018, Azoff’s then-client Travis Scott released “Astroworld,” which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart, and occupied that slot again the following week, causing Nicki Minaj’s album “Queen” to debut at No. 2. On her Beats One show “Queen Radio,” Minaj accused Scott of gaming Billboard’s chart methodology to keep her out of the top slot and singled his manager out by name: “C—sucker of the Day award,” she said, “goes to Irving Azoff.” Azoff says he reacted as only Azoff would: “I said, ‘I’m really unhappy about that. I want to be c—sucker of the year.’” In 2019, Minaj hired Azoff as her new manager.

Most of the best things anyone’s ever said about Azoff are statements a man of less-bizarre spirit would take as an insult. When the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inducted the Eagles in 1998, Don Henley stood onstage and said of Azoff, “He may be Satan, but he’s our Satan.”

An N95-masked Azoff takes a seat on a patio with a view of hallowed ground — the first hole of the Pebble Beach course, a dogleg-right par 4 with a priceless view of the bay. He cheerfully admits that he and his partners at Full Stop are “obviously, as a management business, kind of losing our ass” this year due to COVID-19. In another reality, the Eagles would have played Wembley Stadium in August before heading off to Australia or the Far East. Styles would have just finished 34 dates in the U.S., Canada and Mexico. As it stands Azoff is hearing encouraging things about treatments and vaccines and new testing machines, and is reasonably confident that technology will soon make it possible for certified-COVID-free fans to again enjoy carefree evenings of live music together; he doesn’t expect much to happen in the meantime.

“What are you gonna do,” Azoff says, “take an act that used to sell 15,000 seats and tell them to play to 4,000 in the [same] arena? The vibe would be horrible, and production costs will stay the same.”

He knows of at least six companies trying to monetize new concert-esque experiences — pay-per-view shows from houses and soundstages, drive-in events and so on. But he’s not convinced anybody wants to sit in their parked car to watch a band play. More to the point, he’s not convinced it’s rock ’n’ roll.

“Fallon and Kimmel, all these virtual performances — people are sick of that,” he says. “Your production values from home aren’t that good. And they’re destroying the mystique. I mean, Justin Bieber jumping around on ‘Saturday Night Live’ the other night without a band, and then he had Chance the Rapper come out? It made him look to me, mortal. I didn’t feel any magic. So we’ve kinda been turning that stuff down to just wait it out.”

In the meantime, he says, Full Stop is picking up new clients during the pandemic. Artists with time on their hands, he believes, “have taken a hard look at their careers— so we’ve grown. No revenues,” he adds with a chuckle, “but people are saying, ‘We need you, we need to plan our lives.’”

“IN HIGH SCHOOL,” Jeffrey Azoff says, “I wanted to be a professional golfer, which has obviously eluded me.” He never expected to take up his father’s profession. “But my dad has always loved his job so much. There’s no way that doesn’t rub off on you.”

The younger Azoff got his first industry job at 21, as a “glorified intern” working for Maroon 5’s then-manager Jordan Feldstein. After a week of filing and fetching coffee, he called his father and complained that he was bored. According to Jeffrey, Irving responded, “Listen carefully, because I’m going to say this one time. You have a phone and you have my last name. If you can’t figure it out, you’re not my son.”

“Direct quote,” Jeffrey says. “It’s one of my favorite things he’s ever said to me. And it’s the spirit of the music business, by the way. There are no rules to this. Just figure it out.”

Over dinner I keep asking Irving how he got the temerity, as a kid barely out of college, to plunge into the shark-infested waters of the ‘70s record industry in Los Angeles. He just shrugs.

“I never felt the music business was that competitive,” he says. “It’s just not that f—ing hard. I don’t think there’s that many smart people in our business.”

It’s been written, I say, that once you landed in California and sized up the competition, you called John Baruck back in Illinois and said —

“We can take this town,” Azoff says, finishing the sentence. “Where’d you get that? John told that story to [Apple senior vice president] Eddy Cue on the golf course three days ago. It’s true. I called John up and said, ‘OK, get your ass out here. We can take this town.’”

In the ensuing years, Azoff has occupied nearly every high-level position the music industry has to offer, surfing waves of industry consolidation. He’s been the president of a major label, MCA; the CEO of Ticketmaster; and executive chairman of Live Nation Entertainment, the behemoth formed from Ticketmaster’s merger with Live Nation. In 2013 he and Cablevision Systems Corp. CEO and New York Knicks owner James Dolan formed a partnership, Azoff MSG Entertainment; Azoff ran the Forum in Inglewood for Dolan after MSG purchased it in 2012.

Earlier this year Dolan sold the Forum for $400 million to former Microsoft CEO and Clippers owner Steve Ballmer, who’s since announced plans to build a new stadium on a site just one mile away. Despite the apocalyptic parking scenario that looms for the area — two stadiums and a concert arena on a one-mile stretch of South Prairie Boulevard — Azoff is confident that the Forum will live on as a live-music venue. “People are going, ‘They’re going to tear it down’ — they’re not going to tear it down,” Azoff says. “It’s going to be in great hands. I have many of the artists we represent booked in the Forum, waiting for the restart based on COVID.”

The holdings of the Azoff Co. — formed when Dolan sold his interest in Azoff MSG back to Azoff two years ago — include Full Stop, the performance-rights organization Global Music Rights and the Oak View Group, which is developing arenas in Seattle and Belmont, N.Y., and a 15,000-seat venue on the University of Texas campus in Austin. Azoff describes himself as increasingly focused on “diversification, and building assets for the family that aren’t just dependent on commissions, shall we say.”

But as both a manager and a co-founder of a lobbying group, the Music Artists Coalition, he’s also devoting more time and energy to a broad range of artists’-rights issues, from health insurance to royalty rates to copyright reversion to this year’s Assembly Bill 5, which threatened musicians’ independent-contractor status until it was amended in September. (“That was us,” Azoff says, somewhat grandly. “I got to the governor, the governor signed it — Newsom was great on it.”) He describes his advocacy for artists — even those he doesn’t manage — as a “war on all fronts,” and estimates there are 21 major issues on which “we’ve sort of appointed ourselves as guardians.”

He does not continue to manage artists because he needs the money, he says. (As the singer-songwriter and Azoff client J.D. Souther famously put it, “Irving’s 15% of everybody turned out to be more than everyone’s 85% of themselves.”) Everything he’s doing now — building clout through the Azoff Co., even accepting the Hall of Fame honor — is ultimately about positioning himself to better fight these fights. “I’d rather work on [these things] than anything else,” he says. “But if I didn’t have the power base in the management business, I couldn’t be effective.”

The recorded music industry, having fully transitioned to a digital-first business, is once again making money hand over fist, he points out, but even less of that money is trickling down to artists. That imbalance long predates Big Tech’s involvement in the field, but the failure of music-driven tech companies to properly compensate musicians is clearly the largest burr under Azoff’s saddle.

“These people, when they start out — whether it’s Facebook, Snapchat, TikTok, whatever — they resist paying for music until you go beat the f— out of them. And then of course, none of them pay fair market value and they get away with it. Your company’s worth $30 billion and you can’t spend 20 grand for a song that becomes a phenomenon on your channel? Even when they pay, artists don’t get enough. Writers don’t get enough. Music, as a commodity, is more important than it’s ever been, and more unfairly monetized for the creators. And that’s what creates an opportunity for people like me.”

AZOFF’S FIRM NO longer handles Travis Scott, by the way. “Travis is unmanageable,” Azoff says, nonchalantly and without rancor. “We’re involved in his touring as an advisor to Live Nation, but he’s calling his own shots these days.”

I ask if, in the age of the viral hit and the bedroom producer, he finds himself running into more artists who assume they don’t need a manager. Ehh, Azoff says, like it’s always been that way. “There’s a lot of headstrong artists,” he says. “I haven’t seen one that’s better off without a manager than with,” he says, and laughs a little Dennis the Menace laugh.

We’re back at the house. Azoff takes a seat on the living-room couch; Larry Solters sits across from him, his back to the sea. Azoff recalls another big client. Declines to name him. Says he was never happy, even after Azoff and his people got him everything on his wish list. “He hit me with a couple bad emails. Just really disrespectful s—. I sent him an email back that said, ‘Lucky for me, you need me more than I need you. Goodbye.’”

He will confirm having resigned the accounts of noted divas Mariah Carey and Axl Rose. Reports that he once attempted to manage Kanye West have been greatly exaggerated, he says, although they’ve spoken about business. “Robert [Kardashian] was a good friend of mine. The kids all went to school together,” Azoff says. “What I always said to Kanye was, you’re unmanageable, but we can give you advice.

“A lot of people could have made a dynasty on the people we used to manage,” Azoff says, “let alone the ones we kept.”

But he still works with many artists who joined him in the ’70s — with Henley, with Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen and with Joe Walsh. Walsh has been sober for more than 25 years; it was Azoff, along with Henley and Frey, who talked him into rehab before the Eagles’ 1994 reunion tour. “Irving never passed judgment on me,” Walsh says. “And from that meeting on, he made sure I had what I needed to stay sober.” If he hadn’t, Walsh says, there’s no chance we’d be having this conversation. “All the guys I ran with are dead. Keith Moon’s dead. John Entwistle’s dead. Everybody’s dead, and I’m here. That’s profound to me.”

The first client Azoff lost was Minnie Riperton — in 1979, to breast cancer when she was only 31. Then Warren Zevon, to cancer, in 2003. Fogelberg, to cancer, four years later.

“And then Glenn,” says Azoff, referring to the Eagles co-founder who died in 2016. “I miss Glenn a lot. And now Eddie.”

Van Halen, that is. I ask Azoff if he can tell me a story that sums up what kind of guy Eddie Van Halen was; he tells me a beautiful one, then says he’d prefer not to see it in print. It makes perfect Azoffian sense — profane trash talk on the record, tenderness on background.

I ask if he’s been moved to contemplate his own mortality, as his boomer-aged clients approach an actuarial event horizon. Of course the answer turns out to involve keeping pace with an Eagle.

“Henley and I are having a race,” he says. “Neither one of us has given in. Neither one of us is going to retire.”

Henley was born in July 1947; Azoff came along that December. Does Don plan to keep going, I ask, until the wheels fall off?

“I don’t know,” Azoff says.

Do you ever talk about it?

“Yeah! He’ll call me up and he’ll go, ‘I really feel s— today.’ And I say, ‘Well, you should, Grandpa. You’re an old man. You ready to throw in the towel? Nope? OK.’”

Azoff says, “I contend that what keeps us all young is staying in the business. I’ve had more people tell me, ‘My father, he quit working, and then his health started failing,’ and all that. Every single — I mean, every single rock star I know is basically doing it to try and stay young. And I think it works. I really think it works.

“I have this friend,” Azoff says. “Calls me once a week, he’s sending me tapes, it’s his next big record. Paul Anka! He’s 80 years old. OK? And my other friend, Frankie Valli …”

“Do you know how old Frankie Valli is?” Solters says. “Eighty-six. And he still performs.”

“Not during COVID,” Azoff says. “I told the motherf—, ‘You’re not going out.’”

#jeffrey azoff #la times #11.05.20

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meggie-stardust · 4 years

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GUNDAM WING - 2020 REWATCH - 19 - 20

What stands out now:

19. Assault on Barge

Think we are in for some 1x2 shenanigans (and as an old school 1x2 shipper, I AM READY)

HOWARD just strikes me as a guy who only listens to Jimmy Buffett. Like, he might help repair Tallgeese, but he’s just counting down to 5:00 so he can get his margaritaville on

“That’s an interesting looking machine… oh, it’s Tallgeese, I made it btw.”

“This isn’t what we meant” is totally a Gundam Wing song. Fight me. (actually I’m gonna make a whole post about this later, because I need to elaborate)

Colonel Une is nutbar: Her order is let him live if he’s ugly?? I have no memory of this?

OZ is like “OMG IT’S A GUNDAM!? On the thing that’s holding a Gundam?! HOW COULD WE HAVE BEEN PREPARED FOR THIS?!”

Duo’s cheery “You’re gonna die” is great. Duo is like the looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you meme, and I love it.

“Tag along on my journey into hell” is such a fierce line

Trowa is the unexpected voice of reason

“What’s this?” Cabbage, dumb-dumb. Don’t you have salad in space??

Come on Heero, you managed to hide a gun in spandex, you can’t hide it in your jeans better. Why are you so bad at this?

That hero shot for Heero. Chefs kiss. It’s so good.

Duo: You can kill me if you want; Heero: Oh no. You asked me to kill you? Now I have feelings for you.

Describing the Mobile Dolls as “Annihilation machines” seems like a bad thing, tbh. But would be a badass name for a metal band.

How is Lady Une is magically sending out her peace talk? Does she have the same magic powers as Quatre?

Oh no. Are the mobile dolls attacking our own Leos?? What could possibly go wrong here?

Oh no, they are annihilation machines. How could we possibly have seen this coming.

Getting the Mobile Dolls to attack the Leos and the space suits is the best executed plan that Heero’s been a part of so far. We don’t see how it happens, and we know he didn’t have an escape plan, so I’m going to assume this was Duo’s idea.

20. The Lunar Base Infiltration

Duo: You can’t tell me not to come; Heero: You’re injured, you’ll get in the way; Duo: You know what?! I didn’t want to go anyway, so I’ll just stay here; Heero: Fine; Duo: FINE.

The moon is just one shitty mall. Figures

There’s something haunting about hanging a half built mech with all it’s wires hanging out. Eva really leaned into it, but we get it a lot in this episode with Vayeate and Sandrock.

Oh hey, it’s Sally Po

Oh hey, it’s the Maganac Corps

Oh hey, we can talk to each other without any sort of radio. Crazy!

Look, I don’t want Duo to cut his hair, but what an idiot. At least tuck it into your hat, man. The braid is pretty obvious, especially when you have wanted posters hanging around.

Trowa Barton. You really are just going to use the name you stole from someone else? And just tell OZ about it? Why are all the pilots so bad about their aliases.

That being said, Trowa is so cool. I am super into Trowa this time around.

NOOOOOOOOO. Come on Duo. This is not keeping a low profile.

Trowa’s tears. So iconic. So sad, he hasn’t cried in over a decade.

Lutenient Nichol is the only smart guy in Oz.

Oh man, Mercurius and the Vayeate. I remembered the names of these suits for 20 years, but I don’t know basic math. Go figure.

Lady Une/Colonel Une is so fascinating. Is she really unaware of her two sides? Did Trowa just break her? Does she not realize she’s part of OZ?

A-game from Trowa and Doctor S to totally ignore each other

Heero continues to be the worst at everything. What was his plan there? Why attack in Vayeate when everyone was there? When it’s not even fully bult? When you KNOW that Mercurius can just block it. WHY ARE YOU SO BAD AT THIS HEERO?

Why do I ship the pilots as soon as they point a gun at each other? 1x2 in the last episode; 1x3 here. I’m pretty sure Noin pulls a gun on Duo soon, too...

Thoughts:

Heero is set up to the best character in this show, and he’s pretty awesome, but all he wants to do is go to school and just hang out. At least, that seems to be the thing he’s good at because he’s not good at carrying out any mission plan. I mean, he looks good while doing it, but it never ends well... I remember back in the day there was this yahoo mailing list I was on SDDI: Society for the Defence of Duo’s Intelligence. IDK why people thought Duo wasn’t smart (I was on the list because it was good discussion and lots of fic, if I recall, also mailing lists were great). Anyway, so far none of them have been super successful with their plans, but Trowa and Wufei have been slightly more?

Also, we’ve been watching the Dub because that’s what @mpanighetti and I both watched on Toonami back in the day and we wanted the same experience... and having seen some of the sub, I think they do a pretty good job with a lot of the voices and the translations... that being said, Howard’s info dump at Zechs in 19 is just awful. I’m eager to go back and watch that scene subbed and see the differences.

What I think I remember for the next episode(s):

Heero and Trowa get to pilot Mercurius and the Vayeate against Tallgeese. I think we get a few more pilot pairups as well? We get a glimpse of Quatre’s home.

ALSO: We know that it was shortsighted to start this in early December 2020 and call this Rewatch 2020. I’m gonna continue to use the “Gundam wing rewatch 2020″ tag to track all this (and if you want to follow the tag, too), and I might just take the date off the titles going forward.

#gundam wing rewatch 2020 #gundam wing #gundam meme #mpanighetti #assault on barge #the lunar base infiltration

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pennswoodsman · 3 years

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I’m at the Acme on Passyunk ave with my dad. I’m really struggling to keep my head up lately. I made the mistake of deciding to let my prescription for Zoloft run dry to see if I still need it. Clearly I do. This last week on several occasions I got triggered with something then fall into a crippling depression for the next few hours, sometimes until the next day.

I got a raise at work for the first time in 4 years. At first I was thrilled. Then I find out it’s because their minimum wage has increased and they had no choice but to raise it. So....I haven’t bothered to tell anyone. It doesn’t feel like a victory. In fact it depressed me knowing that I’m now just making the banks minimum wage, I went from being a supervisor to an aimless loser making shit wages...again.

A few days later I’m at the Amity park for an ice cream social with the boys. This is the first time I’ve been to this park in about 5 years. A sudden rush of memories of being happy with Dawn and socializing with other parents and their kids overcomes me. I find myself again re-living all of Dawn’s lies and the hurtful things she said and did in 2017 and 2018. I realized I was about to have a panic attack right there and then...while I was waiting in line for ice cream with the boys. I was trying so hard to be pleasant and strong for Kevin and Nate, but I felt that god awful nothingness in my chest and that feeling of about to tear up. Plus my teeth were sore from clenching my jaw so much. I drove home feeling exhausted. I felt a little better hanging out with the boys and watching a movie together.

Now it’s Thursday and I have a long shift. I am so depressed I can barely speak above a whisper. Everyone is annoying me. At one point a team member puts me on mute to talk to a customer and I start looking at naked chicks on Reddit. Without thinking about it I mutter to myself “man, that’s an edible vagina” to suddenly realize I said that while on mute, not on hold. I panic and hang up. It’s a recorded line and now I am wondering if it’s only a matter of time before they hear it and fire my ass.

That night, I had a series of nightmares. One was right when I first fell asleep. I was driving the Rogue by myself late at night. It was somewhere in Berks county. I felt really out of it, like I was drugged up on prescription meds or something. I accidentally drove up on the sidewalk and just stopped myself from crashing into a tree. I continued to drive even though I knew I was severely impaired. I was reversing to get back on the road and I ended up driving off the road again, this time going into the woods. My seatbelt was wrapped around my right arm, pinning it against my chest. I was trying to free it with my left hand but it kept slipping out of my fingers. I finally got it out but, right on queue, the car slide down a refine and off a cliff. I calmly watched the car plummeting toward the ground through the windshield. I said “goodbye world” and I knew that was it. I woke up with a jolt as the car was literally about to smash from 200 feet.

A couple of days later I was on Reddit again and a man who was in his 40s was asking a question in “dating over 40”. The man said he doesn’t have a good job, his mother pays his mortgage and grocery bills and is this a deal breaker for the ladies. Not that I was shocked by this, but I don’t recall a single woman saying anything but negative things. Saying why would anyone want a loser? Why would anyone want a man who can’t take care of himself? Etc. I sent him an encouraging message to not listen to them, shit happens and if you have a parent who can afford to help you it shouldn’t be the end of the world. I then suggested to not mention his mother pays his mortgage and other bills until a few months in so that way, she could get the know the “real you” and not pre judge you. Some random woman sent me a reply stating that not telling his dates right away is being manipulative. I honestly don’t agree. Since when do you discuss how you pay your mortgage and bills in the first few months of a relationship? I know I never have and would never ask. I said that and all she said was “look up manipulative in the dictionary”. It made me remember how Dawn claimed I was manipulative without even the seeing the slightest bit of irony in that accusation and it got me spiraling towards another panic attack.

Which brings me to today. I worked my Saturday shift, gathered as many family photos to bring to my dad’s house as my trunk would carry and headed out. I put on the “AskReddit” things to hear about entitled celebrities from the stage hands. Once that story is done it automatically went to “ladies what are examples of a man child?” By the first 5 minutes I was so depressed I could barely lift my head up. I am a fucking man child. My house is filthy, I have a shit job and my father pays my way through life. I have a brand new car which is normally a thing to be proud of but I find myself feeling shame that it wasn’t me who paid for it. I feel massive shame for almost being 46 and still dependent on my father. I feel massive shame for being 46 and still having no real career to speak of. For having this generous GF who deserves such a great man but sometimes I feel like she deserves better than I.

The thing is, it hasn’t even really been a bad week per se. Kristan got us SECOND ROW TICKETS FOR DEAD AND COMPANY!! She loves Jimmy Buffett, which is great because making the leap from Buffett to the Dead really isn’t that big of a change. Plus she has heard Scarlet Begonias live a ton of times and didn’t even realize it was originally a Dead song. Her birthday was last week and I wanted to send her some Scarlet Begonias from a florist. I checked all the websites of the local florists and none of them had any. So, I ordered some faux ones from Target. I also got her Jimmy Buffett tickets this coming August. Mine are only lawn seats though. So, not quite as awesome. I did agree to wear a grass skirt and coconut tits at the show. Hey, when in Rome, right?

Sigh....

#depression #anxious #deep breath

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etraytin · 4 years

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Quarantine, Day 123

July 12

A-B-C, it’s easy as Day 1-2-3!

Another quiet day in quarantine, a near-mirror to yesterday except none of us went anywhere today. We are being ever so good in advance of the wedding! I did get a message today about a mama cat and some kittens very close to me that I'm going to check out tomorrow, just to get the lay of the land. The contact person says the kittens are 6-7 weeks old, but a lot of people are pretty bad at guessing the ages of kittens from far away. If they are young enough to socialize we can trap them and get them into the foster system, but if they are too old they will have to wait a little longer because we are backed up all to hell at the spay/neuter clinic. They have had to go to reduced hours again, so we're only getting slots on certain days. Tuesday I will actually be trapping at a different site with one of my friends, and this time we will be wearing masks even outdoors because one volunteer tested positive recently. It would really help if it were not 90 degrees out!

The kiddo has made a full-on fort in my closet now; he is very proud of himself. He mostly goes there in the evening, in the time between the end of screen time for the day and bedtime. He is listening to a lot of music on Spotify now, and I would feel old for not recognizing most of it except that I have never recognized much in the way of pop music. I'm just pleased when he occasionally busts out with a Jimmy Buffett song because I know that's all my influence. He has also mentioned that he likes a lot of the songs he likes because they make him think of fanfiction stories inside his head, which is also just like me and I will always encourage that. He doesn't seem to like the quiet; there is always something coming from his room, whether it is Youtube or Spotify or podcasts.

Barry has forgiven me for the unthinkable crime of allowing him to jump out of my arms last night, and it only took a bit of groveling and a bunch of treats. These guys are going to have a lot of fun when they get to the rescue and have more room and other kittens around! Hopefully they will also learn how to use the litterbox without kicking up a sandbender-sized mess about it. Their mama probably taught them how to scratch in the dirt, which requires a lot more energy and enthusiasm than a couple inches of Tidy Cat. A high-sided litterbox has helped a lot, but some good examples should also be good for them. They are out and playing right now until I finish all my typing for the evening. I have held off on the evening serving of wet food so I can use it to put them away without having to chase anybody.

Two different people have texted me in the past two days to ask me about homeschooling curriculum. Kiddo had some problems in first and second grade before we got his medication settled and when we were in a much worse school district. I ended up pulling him and using the virtual public school option that Florida makes available for free to any student. We did Connections Academy for two years and it was good, but very time-consuming. It's funny because I hadn't even been thinking about homeschool again until my sister asked me about what we had used, but I understand why people are looking around. The idea of sending kids back into the classroom right now is scary, especially for people with young children like both of the parents I talked to.

I honestly don't think that any back-to-school-in-person option is going to last very long, just as a matter of logistics. What happens when someone tests positive? Does the class quarantine? Does the teacher quarantine? What if a teacher has to quarantine or gets sick, or someone in their family gets sick? Who's going to teach their classes? There was already a severe shortage of substitute teachers before all of this happened, and a lot of the subs were retired teachers themselves. Who on earth is going to go into a classroom where someone just got quarantined for COVID and teach there for eighty dollars a day and no benefits? I got my letter authorizing me to sub during the 2020-21 school year and just threw it in a drawer. I mean, some people are going to be desperate enough to do it, but if you're that hard up, it's probably safer to work at McDonalds right now where you're only close up with ten or eleven people instead of thirty or two hundred. Teachers already had an incredibly shitty deal before coronavirus; I believe that we will soon start to see what happens when conditions get so bad that nobody will teach. Guess we'll see pretty soon, some schools are getting ready to go back in just a few weeks! Virginia schools don't start til September, so we've got a little time yet.

#quarantine #feral kittens #tnr #back to school

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allaboutthebooz · 6 years

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Send My Love (To Your New Lover) Part Seventeen

Summary: Y/N gets many surprises.

Warnings: Angst, mild fluff, drunk reader

A/N: Sorry I haven’t updated this in a while, but life is crazy right now. Not overly crazy, but I’ve been studying for Midterms and juggling my mom/wife life, as well as new inventory for my store! But here it is! Part 17! Enjoy!

Missed something? Catch up here.

The sun began flooding in through your open curtains and shining behind your eyelids, making you groan. You roll over and peek and eye open, thinking you would find Jared fast asleep., but he wasn’t there. You reach behind you to feel for your phone on the nightstand by the bed. You feel it under your fingers and grip it in your hand, so it doesn’t fall to the floor. You light up the screen to see what time it is. It’s only 6:45 in the morning. Where did Jared go?

You lay in bed for a minute and listen to the space around you. Juno isn’t at your feet, so he must have gotten up to take her out. You throw the covers off of you and swing your legs over the edge. You stretch your arms above your head and stand up. Heading into the bathroom to pee and to pull your unruly hair up into a messy bun. Moving back into the bedroom and towards the door, you hear hushed whispers. Confused you move beyond the doorway and peer into the living room, you don’t see anyone. You move into the living room and spot Jared standing at the kitchen counter, and beside him is someone you weren’t expecting for a few more days. Jake. Your fiancé. The love of your life.

“Jake!”

He turns to look at you and smiles. You both move at the same time and meet each other in the middle. He pulls you into him and holds you tight. “What are you doing here? I told you I would be fine.”

He pulls away and gives you a quick, but passionate kiss. “Yeah you told me that, but I needed to be here. Mom understands. And you did say to stay until after the party. Plus, Jared called me while I was on the plane. Said my girl needed me.”

You look behind him and Jared and you both smile at each other. You see how tired he is. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“You know I couldn’t. I Was just starting to doze off an hour and a half ago when Jake poked his head in the room. Instead of waking you, we figured we would talk and wait for you to wake up on your own.”

“Well, thank the sun then. I forgot to close the curtains last night. But why don’t you guys get some sleep. You’ve both up all night, get some rest and then maybe we can show Jared around the city?”

“Actually, I have to get a few things first. Like some of my own clothes. So, I was going to do that and then we can figure something out.”

“You should get some sleep first, Jare.”

“Eh, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Fine, but I don’t want to hear it later when we’re walking around the city. But if you must go, you can take my car.”

“Thanks, I was going to anyways.” He smiles and brings his cup of coffee up to his mouth to take a sip. You laugh and shake your head.

“Alright, well I’m going to take a shower.” You look at Jake and smile. “Are you going to join me, so I can show you how much I missed you before you crash?”

“And I’m out!” Jared grabs your keys off the hook and makes a quick exit, making you and Jake laugh.

+++

It was close to noon before Jared came back to your apartment. Jake had gotten a little bit of sleep, while you ate something and cleaned up a little bit. You both were currently sitting on the couch, binging Brooklyn 99, when the door opens and in burst two mini versions of Jared. Before you could even process what was happening, you were being bombarded by tiny humans and Juno’s excessive barking was filling the apartment.

“What are you all doing here?! How did you get here?! What is going on?!” You ask through the pile of limbs and brown hair that you were currently buried under. You pull each of them back enough to see Tom and Shep’s cute faces grinning at you. You look passed them and spot Gen and Jared in the entryway, Odette wiggling in Jared’s arms. You stretch your arms out as best as you can, and he puts her down. She runs as quick as her tiny feet can carry her, before she climbs on top of her brothers.

“We came to see you. Jared called me last night after Jensen left and I didn’t know if Jake was coming home or not, so I booked the first flight out. I figured you could use their love.” Gen tells you as she sets the bags she was holding, down next to her feet. Her smile never wavering.

You squeeze all three kids as best you can. “My munchkins. Genevieve, you are one brave mama to bring all three on the plane by yourself.” You praise her.

“Well, they’re aunt Y/N is worth it. You need your family and we’re not going anywhere.”

The kids climb off of you and onto the floor to play with Juno. They laugh and squeal as she kisses their faces. You stand up and move towards them. “You guys are the absolute best.” You hug Gen and she gives you a squeeze in return. You move back towards Jake and he stands beside you, leaving his spot on the couch. “Well, we planned on showing Jared around the city, but I don’t know if you want to drag the kiddos around the Big Apple. We can go to lunch and figure it out.”

+++

There was no way that all of you would fit in you SUV, so you gathered what you needed for the kids, mainly O, and headed out. There was a great pizza place down the street from your apartment. Close enough to walk and to let the kids stretch their legs. Your neighborhood was more upscale than most, but it paid to be famous. The streets weren’t overly crowded and the people that did walk around all of you, were used to seeing famous faces on the streets, so not many people stopped to ask for pictures or ogle you as you walked by.

+++

After Lunch, Jared and Jake took the kids to the park while you and Gen had some girl time and went shopping in the area. You wanted to buy some more things for the apartment, but also wanted to wait. Jake was in the process of getting his apartment on the market, both of you wanting to move in together before you had to fly out to Atlanta.

You browsed the furniture stores in the area for a bit, but eventually left with nothing. You both headed down the shopping strip, sunglasses over your eyes, enjoying the New York sun.

“You’ve been so quiet, Bug.”

You look towards her as you pull open the door to the next shop. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What’s running through that head of yours?”

You browse the clothes on the rack nearby and shake your head. “I just hope Jensen’s okay. I know it’s stupid for me to be thinking about him, but I can’t help it. I know I should be mad about him just showing up on my doorstep and I’m not.”

“Well, hun. That’s understandable. You were together a long time, but he can’t keep stringing you along anymore. He can’t decide that when he’s found a new shiny to, that he can just get rid of the old one, but then want it back when someone else picks it up off the ground, cleans it up, and starts to play with it. That’s not how life is. He let you go, and it took you so long to get over him. Now that you’re moving on and getting married to Jake, he decides that he’s wanted you all along. Nuh uh. Not in our family.”

You touch Gen’s arm, calming her rant. “Okay, I get it. Trust me, I do. But all I’m saying is that I don’t blame him.”

“Well, then I’ll blame him enough for the both of us.” She huffs and looks around. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“What? Gen, it’s not even two o’clock yet.”

“In the words of Jimmy Buffett ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere.’ Besides, when was the last time that you just let go. Come on! The guys have the kids! Let’s go drink like the world is ending.”

“I don’t know, Gen.”

She grabs your arms and drags you from the store. “No, we’re doing this. You need this.”

You roll your eyes but follow her out of the store.

+++

Two hours later, Jake strolls through the door of the bar you and Gen were currently occupying. He finds you both playing a game of pool, a stack of glasses and bottles littering the table beside you. He moves through the early afternoon crowd. Reaching the table as you bend over and take a shot, sinking a stripe in the corner pocket. You stand up straight and cheer. He smiles, putting his hand on your back. You spin around clumsily to see who was touching you, ready to tell them off. You smile bright, a hazy look in your eyes from all the alcohol running through your veins.

“Hey! It’s my fiancé! Gen, this is my fiancé! Isn’t he the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?” You grip his cheeks in one hand, making his mouth pucker. Gen sits in the chair and laughs, not as under the influence as you are, but enough. “Gosh, you’re so hot. How did I get so lucky?” You begin to ramble, and he laughs.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, in case you stumble. “Alright, Smalls. Time to go home.”

You wag your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah? You wanna take me home?”

He nods, knowing where your mind is going and playing along. “Sure, do.” He looks over at Gen, giving her a nod to come too. She stands and takes his other arm in hers. “Must be my lucky night.”

“Sure is, baby.” You slur, resting your head on his shoulder.

He gets you both out of the bar and he opens the back door to your car, he lays you across the backseat as Gen climbs up front. Within minutes, you’re asleep.

He climbs in the front and starts the engine.

“Well, you can never doubt her love you.” Gen tells him.

He smirks. “I never have.”

“Not even when she told you that Jensen ran out of his wedding?” She turns her head to look at him.

He glances at her, taking in a breath. He turns back to look at you for a second before looking forward again. Your little snores filling the silence. “Even then. I know she loves me. I will never doubt that, but I know she will always love him. I can’t blame her for that. And I will admit, that when I heard he was looking for her, I was a little worried, but then I remembered how screwed up she was because of him and I remember what Jared told. About what happened when she called him the day Jensen walked out on her. Then I was just angry. Angry at him for thinking he can just have her back like she was some kind of doll. Angry that he would think he could take my girl from me.” He shakes his head. “I knew she wouldn’t leave with him. Even after all that they went through and how much she still loves him, she wouldn’t do that to me. Do the same thing that he did to her. She may still love him, but she proved how much she loves me more and that is more important than anything. She’s my whole world and I don’t want to let her go.”

Gen is quiet. He thinks she must have fallen asleep, but when he glances over at her, she’s just staring at him with so much affection. “And we can’t thank you enough for loving her so much. She deserves that love and I’m so happy that she has found that with you.” She smiles at him and then turns to look at you. “She is such a bright star in our lives, and I was so devastated when her light burned out, but you brought it back. I haven’t seen her that happy in a long time.”

“She should always shine bright.”

Gen hums as Jake pulls the car to the curb outside of the apartment building. They climb out and Jake peels you from the backseat, you barely stir. He holds you through the entire elevator ride and carries you through the threshold of your apartment, Gen shushing the kids as he moves through the apartment to your bedroom. He lays you on the bed and strips you of your dress and heels. Pulling one of his shirts from the drawer and sliding it over your head. He settles you beneath the covers and kisses your forehead.

“I love you, Smalls. So much.”

You peek your eyes open a tad and give him a lazy smile. “I love you, Bubby.” You whisper, before sliding your eyes closed again and snuggling deeper into the covers. “Thank you for coming home.” You murmur.

“Always.”

@liebemeineslebensx @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @cookiechipdough @maralisa124 @spnfamily-thewinchesters @tmiships4life @greyeyedsmile14 @aomi-nabi @keikoraventeller @captaindorit0 @frozenhuntress67 @nerdygirlwithacrush @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @everyfallentear @jxnnxbrxwn @parkeret @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mml232 @sing4mejensen @supersupernaturalfan @voideandotherstuff @samuelwillliamwinchester @sherlockedtash88 @smoothdogsgirl @cap-just-said-language @31shadesofbrown @deansbbysblog @linki-locks11 @mirandaaustin93 @hiraethclaire @love-my-not-natural-babies @nickigv @flamencodiva @gh0stgurl @holylulusworld @heyitscam99 @atlas-of-the-world @colie87 @woodworthti666 @princessizzy36 @pretty-fortune @death-unbecomes-you @theloudkilljoy @nea90sweetie @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @mypassionsarenysins @sarah--jonas @fashion--addict @charlybradburry @familiardestruction @simonsbluee @psychoredpanda

#Jensen Ackles #jensen ackles x reader #Jared Padalecki #jake gyllenhaal #jared padalecki x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader #dean winchester #dean one shot #dean x reader #dean winchester reader insert #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester reader insert #sam one shot #sam x reader #supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #supernatural one shot

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

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Meet Corey G. Lewis, The Dude Who’s Bringing Grunge Back

~By Jamie LaRose~

Art by Ben House

With the new album sinking into our consciousness, 'Deathspiration' (2018) by The Misery Men invokes the necessity to dig a bit deeper into the creative processes behind its craft. I had the chance to follow-up with Corey G. Lewis, mastermind of the music, and take a glimpse at the band's evolution as portrayed by sound. Deathspiration was recorded and mixed by Steve Jones of Ancient Warlocks at Big Sound Productions in Seattle, and features Jones as drummer.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

The intro track is reminiscent of reflections, leading into a blasting presence of a second track. This album seems to tell a diverse story, can you explain some of the inspiration behind Deathspiration?

Well the intro track is sort of an homage to Neil Young’s Dead Man soundtrack. I’m also really into Dylan Carlson and EARTH. Before I discovered Earth, I’d always described The Misery Men as, Western Doom Noir. That’s evolved into me describing it as Stone Drone. Nevertheless it’s reminiscent of the space between the notes, and the chaos that occurs. The song Sughrue is about C.W. Sughrue, a character from the book Last Good Kiss by the late great James Crumley, also an old friend. Sughrue is a Private Dick that goes off looking for missing woman. “Like a train” barreling down the highway, from Montana to Mexico.

Oh, most importantly, the inspiration behind Deathspiration is the evolution of me as a human. The cathartic shedding of skin. "Harnessing the Darkness" and riding the waves. Sometimes I feel we might be desperate to reach death, to know the truths, while we attempt to be inspired to live life, as we pass through all the adversity, and perspiring blood, sweat, and tears in these moments of our existence.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Do you have any secrets of sound to share? What types of techniques present The Misery Men persona?

My secret sound really is simplicity, and the ghost of Leo Fender haunting my amp. I run a 70’s Music Man 112 RP 65-watt amp with an EV bass speaker, through a 2x12 THD Cab, with a phaser pedal, and a Little Big Muff. A wall of fuzz, that is grizzly, meaty, and punchy. I don’t really try to be the tone guy, but I get more compliments about my tone than anything else.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

"Night Creeps In" presents itself to me as the vertex of the Deathspiration story, it feels ritualistic and defining. Are there any rituals you perform while in the writing process?

This song in particular was written after a girl I was dating for only a week, told me she was going to kill herself. It was pretty heavy, and at the time she texted me, I was walking past Lone Fir Cemetery and wrote her, “sometimes the night creeps in, looking wretched weak and thin. Smiling with its meathook grin.” It was a very heavy experience. When I wrote this song about seven years ago, I was just really getting deep into Dax Riggs of Acid Bath. He’s definitely had a big impact on my music writing since moving to Portland.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Aside from the release of Deathspiration, are there any other exciting current happenings with The Misery Men?

We played at Dante’s not long ago with Chris Newman Deluxe Combo. Chris is quintessential to the Portland rock scene and to the whole Pacific Northwest in general. He is famous for his band Napalm Beach, who released their first album in 1981. Without Napalm Beach, The Wipers, and Dead Moon, well Seattle “Grunge” just wouldn’t sound the same. We might all still be playing Hair Metal!

Officially, Deathspiration has been out since last December, but this week it will launch on all digital platforms worldwide. This fall around September or October, expect a new two-part album to drop digitally, recorded by Witch Mountain and The Skull’s own Rob Wrong! It’ll feature 3-4 different local bass players and a couple local drummers, all guitars and vocals have been recorded, and bass/drums will be done by July/August. So far, we've got interest from bass players Billy Anderson (yes, the famous Sleep producer), Matt Howl (Mammoth Salmon), Wayne Boucher (Troll), and Jaden Mcginiss (Legendary Peavy owner, Doorman, Boudicca). All of this will be recorded in Rob’s basement, the same basement Elliott Smith practiced in.

I decided that my second album needed to be done sooner than later, after the 1st was seven years in the making. Deathspiration was recorded in Seattle with Ancient Warlocks drummer Steve Jones, I’m very happy with the way it turned out, it was analog with no filters, no frills, just my raw intensity. The second though I feel needs to be done here in Portland, it is after all according to Greg Sage, DoomTown. Unlike the first one, it’ll be all digital, but still raw and real, capturing my live performance sound. I’m also likely going to have a variety of drummers on the album playing different songs, perhaps even some legendary Portland drummers!

This week I begin practicing with a new drummer for two upcoming gigs. On Saturday, July 6th, we'll be playing with Chronoclops and Stereo Creeps from Seattle at Misdemeanor Meadows in Portland. It's a free show. Then on Friday, July 26th, The Misery Men will be rocking Gil's Speakeasy for a $5 show that includes The Sleer and Breath. I'm Working on gigs for August on through the Fall.

Do you have any memories of childhood that are notably similar to your current state of mind? What type of things about your childhood self were spot-on about who you become? What was your favorite toy?

I knew I’d always wanted to be a Rock n’ Roller or an actor in films. Like pretty much as long as I could remember. I dressed up almost every Halloween as a Punk Rocker in the '80s. My first concert of grand scale was Poison and Warrant 1989, in Bozeman, Montana -- I was in 5th grade. That show changed my life. I also dug rocks in my grandparent’s backyard, but not for pleasure -- my grandfather took advantage of child labor! I’m a rocker through and through. I think I’ve followed my dreams pretty spot on.

Favorite toys were probably GI Joe’s, Star Wars, or my SEGA Genesis. I also built wood swords from fence posts and painted them with finger nail polish as a kid. Think I may have accidentally got high!

What was the moment when you could feel music has become a part of your life? How has writing music helped you, and those around you?

Well, ever since I could remember music was a part of my life. Listening to my mom’s old tapes and records as a kid really impacted me. I was always surrounded by music, my grandparents owned a Rock n’ Roll bar I’m the ‘60s, '70s, and '80s, called The Wrangler Bar in Livingston, MT. It’s featured in the film Rancho Deluxe about some wild young cattle rustlers, starring Jeff Bridges, and Sam Waterson. There’s a scene with Jimmy Buffett playing "Livingston Saturday Night" while Jeff and Sam play Pong. I’ve played that same machine as a kid! There was always a jukebox, I loved playing Jefferson Starship's "We Built This City," Joan Jett's "I Love Rock n’ Roll," Ozzy's "Bark at the Moon," Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" and "Hell Is For Children," and Billy Squire's "The Stroke"!

In 7th and 8th grades, I really was into The Doors, The Beatles, Hendrix, and I was in a English class for kids who couldn’t really focus on reading Lord Of The Rings. In this class our teacher would have us listen to our favorite music at home, then with the feelings we got, write our own poetry. I often listened to Hendrix, especially Axis: Bold As Love and Electric LadyLand, so there were plenty of references to fantasy in my early lyrics. This really helped me learn to become a lyricist, and take an interest in poetry. Most importantly, it gave me an outlet. Around the same time, I got heavy into Henry Rollins. When I saw the video for "Liar" with Hank all painted red, I thought, “I wanna be that guy!” I bought Get in The Van and it became my Bible. All the while I was into Nirvana, Alice In Chains, and Soundgarden.

Is there a way to describe when you feel most productive or most relaxed? How is your state of mind best explained while writing music?

I’m most productive when I feel inspired. Or when the Sun is out and I’m well rested. I like the Sun, except in extreme heat, then I wanna murder the Sun. I was born at night, so I’m a Moon child. I definitely get more inspired and productive writing at night. A few years ago when I was reworking an old song that turned out to be Harness The Darkness, I took a wee bit of LSD or mushrooms -- I’m more of a microdose kind of guy -- found myself going down some deep wormholes to connect a lot of dots that would go on to make up the six verses of the song, that I eventually dropped into four, because it was the most exhausting song to play! I’m a Beatnik kid. I got into the Beat style of writing early on. So, letting the stream of consciousness come flowing out seems to work well for me. I can keep a pretty decent rhyme or off rhyme too.

What is the most peculiar thing that anyone has ever said to you?

Hmmmm. Can you keep a secret? From experience, always tell them no, because sometimes people will lay some heavy shit on you, and maybe you didn’t want to be that person to carry their burden. I’m not a Priest, or a therapist, sometimes it’s fine to listen to friends, but there’s some things you can’t unhear or unsee!

Do you have a message for the universe?

I call it the "Megaverse," as coined by quantum physicist Leonard Susskind -- but my message is to be real, be compassionate, be loving, be forgiving, be understanding, be courageous, be ever evolving, and in the words of E.T.: “Beeeeee Gooooooddd.”

The Great Misery Men Giveaway!

Don't miss your chance to add the gritty album Deathspiration to your library! Grab one of the Bandcamp codes below (first come, first served) and redeem it right here.

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#D&S Interviews #The Misery Men #Corey G. Lewis #Portland #Oregon #Doom #Grunge #Metal #Jamie LaRose #Stoner Art #Ben House #Week of Wonders #Doomed & Stoned

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stylesdimplefeelings · 7 years

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Day 3 of Blogmas

Y/N may love Christmas too much, neighbour Harry can tell by the loud Christmas music she plays, and the fact that every time he jogs past her place, he always catches a whiff of chocolate, or peppermint, or some type of cookie. Harry usually visits home for the holidays, so he doesn’t really bother decorating. This year, however, he’s been snowed in with no chance of getting out of the city.

Christmas Wishes

•Written by Maddy @legandaryharry

****

Peppermint, that’s what it is. Each and every morning that Harry wakes up when he’s jogging down the stairwell of his apartment building passing by his neighbors, he will get a whiff of something, and this day it is the sweet smell of peppermint. Even when it was barely light out, the moon giving him some type of guidance on the sidewalk, the thick cold chill to the winter air, he would still make a point to go running, but oh how much Harry wishes that he could just stay cuddled up in bed under the covers and sleep some more. But for some reason just having those few seconds to see what the new smell is of the day excites him enough to pull himself up and out of bed. He knows where it is coming from, a girl lives in there, y/n. He hasn’t talked much to her, just the occasional hello and how are you? But nothing much further. She was cute, not usually the type of girl that Harry would go for but since he first saw her she did catch his eye.

Christmas was finally here, actually to be correct, it was tomorrow. Harry planned to go and drive down to see his mother and sister, but sitting here in front of the tv with the news on, it looks like he probably won’t make it. 90% chance of snow tonight stating to be about as high as 4 feet of snow and temperatures dropping down to the negatives. As much as he would enjoy getting out of the house for once and seeing his family, he just knew it would be pretty much impossible. So to at least bring in some Christmas cheer he decided to go get a tree before the snow would hit and decorate it, even if it would be for his eyes only.

Harry sped out of the door, jogging down the stairs and jumped in his car. He looked up once more before backing up out of the parking lot to notice that same apartment is lit up. The girl living in there even though she has been here for only a year she has always kept up with all Christmas traditions. Having lights hanging around keeping her dorm lit all month long, a tree brightening up her front window and the soft sound of Christmas music ranging from Frank Sinatra to Jimmy Buffett. But today he notices that really isn’t the case for her this year. There was nothing to be displayed and it seemed to be very quiet, it kinda saddens Harry and he wondered if something happened?

When Harry finally arrives to the lot full of trees, in the first 5 minutes he comes across the perfect tree, not too tall and not too wide - just perfect. The workers help him tie down the tree on top of his car and Harry heads his way back home, ready to get all of this set up. Harry’s eyes guiding all over town taking in all the bright lights of red and green. The snow falls slowly, coming down on the hood of his car and all the people celebrating for this very day made his stomach feel warm. Missing out on all the Christmas memories he had when he was young and with his family, wishes he would never taken those moments for granted.

Harry soon pulls in and parks right back in the same spot, rushing out wanting to just get this over with. Harry is currently hurling the tree up the stairs to his apartment when he catches something in the corner of his eye and noticing that it is that girl. She is busy picking up all of the mail that the mail man must of not respectfully put in her box, not noticing him yet but Harry is indecisive if he should say hello or not.

She soon hears the grunts and huffs coming from behind her, she feels confused and wonders what is going on behind her back. She lifts her body up making it a point not to drop all of the letters out of her arms, not having much patience to be standing out here in the cold much longer to pick up mail. Her heart skips a bit when she notices that it is the boy from across the hall, Harry. He is currently trying to haul a massive tree up the stairs and from the looks of it he is struggling, to the point of almost dropping it. She wonders for a quick second if it is worth it, helping him and talking to the cute boy while leaving her mail or ignoring and entering her warm home away from the cold. She decides on the first option and turns around to set the stack of mail on her patio table. She slowly jogs over to Harry trying to reach to him in time.

“Harry, here let me help you” y/n says and puts her arms around the top of the tree, lifting it up off the ground. Harry shoots his head around shocked that she noticed him and that she wanted to help, and especially that she knew his name.

“Oh y/n thank you” Harry states turning his head back just enough so that he could look at her from the corner of his eye, surprising her with a smile.

He turned back and looked down to shove his key into the door, trying to hurry, worried if it is too heavy for y/n and if she is struggling as much as him. When Harry kicks the door open and they both make their way into his living room, setting the tree up on the stand and screwing it in.

“This tree is bigger than my future” y/n states laughing while checking the tree up and down, laughing at herself. Harry laughs with her, smiling at how much he was missing out on this girl and wondering where has she been all his life. Y/n was a short person and comparing her to the tree, it was way over a foot taller than her built. But Harry loved how small of a person she was, he just wanted to hold her and for her to cuddle into him all night.

Y/n notices right away what Harry was wearing and smiled at how adorable he was, how much Harry went into and gave great pride into his fashion. He has a cream colored sweater with a long dark navy blue coat and last some tight fitted black jeans that seemed a little too tight for his own good. Harry’s hair seemed to be pushed back by some hair gel but the occasional curl would be poking out awkwardly but y/n thought it was just as cute, loving it on him. The soft look to his skin contributing to his good skincare line and the light pink tint to his lips that y/n so wishes that she could feel.

“You are one silly girl, but thank you y/n for helping me with this” Harry thanks her, turning his way to her and he pulls his hand out for her to shake.

When their hands touch Harry feels this spark run through his body, not many girls make him feel this way. Actually when he thinks about it - with Harry being young - yeah he sees girls and finds them attractive, but with y/n he feels a sense of protectiveness when he is in her presence and he doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean… yet.

Harry did know that y/n had a boyfriend when she first moved in but he stopped coming around and she stopped coming out as much so he just assumed they weren’t together anymore. Harry wasn’t much of a relationship guy, especially with the type of career that he has. But the one thing that Harry and y/n do have in common is how private and reserved they both are with their lives. Even if for Harry that is rarely going on social media and not talking about certain things in interviews, but for y/n that is just never leaving her home. Two different lifestyles but also they can connect with each other in such a way.

When y/n looked around, she took an over look over his place, Harry’s apartment was a lot bigger than hers. His decorations seemed expensive and he probably had a lot of help picking out a lot of things. Now she feels nervous at the day that Harry will come over and she’ll welcome him into her home, realizing that she isn’t as upgraded as him.

She inhales the sweet smell of warm cinnamon that she assumes is coming from a burning candle coming in his home.

“Anytime Harry, now I actually have a reason to say I decorated for the holidays.” She laughs but Harry can still sense in the tone in her voice that something was bothering her.

Something was telling him to not let her go home, even though they barely knew anything about each other he just didn’t want her to go on her way. He wanted her to stay, help him put ornaments all over the tree and drink hot cocoa. He wanted to see her smile and wanted to make her laugh and for her to actually mean it.

“Would you like to help me decorate the tree?” Harry asks her suddenly, nervous to see her reaction.

Y/n shoots her head right back up at Harry looking right at him in the eyes, she can tell from the way that he is twiddling his fingers and giving her an awkward smile that he is tense. She smiles to herself in her head thinking at how cute he is and how did she ever get in this situation? All Harry really ever was to her is the famous cute boy that lived across from her, but now she is currently being asked to decorate his Christmas tree.

“Yes Harry I would love to” Y/n quickly answers needing to see him loosen up and be himself around her. In those moments when y/n is in Harry’s presence and he doesn’t know, that is when y/n likes Harry the most.

When he gives no thought to what others think of him and acts himself, acts the loving bubbly boy that he is known to be. Seeing him on tv and listening to his music, she can really tell Harry has more to himself, but from the looks to Harry’s home he is just a regular human, like me and you.

“Ok great, well let's get started” Harry says, huffing and plants his hands on his hips giving y/n this cheesy smile that she so desperately wants to kiss.

She knows she shouldn’t be having these thoughts, I mean this is Harry Styles for damn sake he would never even bat a single at her. They both pull out boxes of ornaments, seeing the glass red and green colored balls sparkle bouncing off the lights. They set them down and one by one do they start to decorate the tree, gently hooking each ornament to a branch.

“Why is the bottom of the tree decorated and not the top?” Harry questions. Looking at her with a confused look but laughing to himself.

She looks so cute trying to attempt to decorate the whole tree but with her height and built it is just almost impossible for her to reach for anything close to 6 feet tall. So she is left with having to resort to decorating the lower half, she did try to drop them on the top but really that was just from the help of Harry grasping it from her fingertips and doing it himself.

“Heyyy you know I have some disadvantages because of my height” y/n complains giving Harry a pouty look that he pleases so much to just run the tip of his thin on her bottom lip, the redness to her lip that he accurs came from her biting it from her being so nervous.

Harry has always seen y/n as just this girl that was reserved and friendly but never really understood what drawed him to her. But seeing her now under this light, giving him this spunky attitude with a mix of cuteness makes him so happy that he let her in.

“It’s ok to be short y/n, only short people are cute” Harry flirts giving her a cheeky smile looking right in her eyes waiting for a reaction but he looks back at the tree before she has a second to process what he said.

Y/n doesn’t know what to say, she doesn’t get if Harry is actually trying to make a move on her or if he is just being nice trying to feel pity for her loneliness. She looks down smiling to herself trying to hide her flushed cheeks not wanting Harry to know how much his words affected her. She inches her eyes back up to him looking back down at her with a look that she feels like she might just pass out.

Harry is looking back down at her while waiting for her response. She is wearing a big plaid fur hooded coat on, even in the minute of picking up some mail she can’t go any moment with out being warm.

“Thank you Harry… but I don’t know if that’s completely true” y/n whispers trying not to get Harry as wilded up as much as she did. She just acts like she said nothing and gets back to working on the tree. “Because you are tall and…”

“Are you trying to say I’m cute?” Harry giggles at her attempt to express her feelings to him, her very bad but cute attempt. He watches y/n get flustered again but this time having no mind in him seeing her this way.

They talk about each other trying to get to know one another a lot better. Asking about life, their jobs and family. She finds out Harry’s tour is coming soon since being on a 3 month break he’s sad to leave friends and family for so long but he loves doing his job. He has a mother and father who aren’t together, he has a stepfather but who has sadly passed away recently. He also has a older sister named Gemma that has a boyfriend named Michal. She feels sad seeing Harry’s face fall a bit when he mentions about his stepfather, knowing that it is a sensitive subject.

She could hear Harry talk all day and tell her all about himself learning so much more and never get bored of it. The way that Harry shows passion and love for what he does and the people that he is surrounded with makes her feel so happy. Seeing a man so satisfied and joyful with his life, who believes so strongly in himself like Harry’s is with his music is just an amazing thing about him.

Harry continues asking her about how things have been going for her and what he should learn about her. She tells him that things having been going fine for her, she has actually been promoted recently in her job. She loves what she does but actually these past few months she’s been feeling like something is missing. She doesn’t wanna go too deep into her feelings but she has been feeling very lonely lately. With her job, she is too busy to see anyone including her friends and family, even when they include her and invite her to places.

She mentions that she has a mother and a father that aren’t together anymore too, they separated when she was only 13. Her mother has a boyfriend who she lives with, she used to live with them before she moved into her apartment last year. She has two brothers that are older than her and a half older sister from her father's previous marriage. Y/n still seemed sad about something and Harry wanted to figure out about what. Both having siblings and adding family members into their lives is something that they both can connect with each other.

“Are you still with that one boy?” Harry carefully asks y/n without startling her too much on the subject. He notices that she stops what she is doing and just stands there with not sudden movement, he feels as he must of went too far and touched a touchy subject. He hopes that he hasn’t made her upset to wanna cry or leave.

“We aren’t together anymore” y/n huffs out but smiling to try to hold it in and hide the hurt over the memories in her voice.

She tries to block out everything that is playing out over what she has been dealing with for the past few months. She doesn’t wanna get upset but she knows in herself how much this boy has hurt her and all the lies that make her wonder what was even the point of trying with this person in the first place. Realizing in the end of the relationship that there a lot of people out there that are better and she shouldn’t have been treated that way. She knows she shouldn’t be jumping into relationships or even having crushes, maybe being here with Harry or even having these feelings aren’t the best interest for her. But she just can’t pull away and leave, something in her head is telling her to stay.

“I’m sorry” He says, making her come out of her daze and awake to his words coming back to reality.

She gets back to what she was doing and acts as if she was not affected, that she was in a better place in life and that love didn’t bring her down. “No Harry it’s really fine, I’ve moved on no need to worry” She says trying to make herself look preoccupied.

“I’m glad we are hanging out, I like you y/n” Harry smiles trying to bring the mood back up and make y/n happy again.

She smiles back at him seeing him stand tall and proud above her, looking at the little stool that he brought from his kitchen to help him get to the top. She actually thought that Harry was an older man when she first moved in and only saw him from the back but when first be greeted realized who he was and how friendly and sweet of a man he was.

“I like seeing you too Harry, it really means alot” y/n mutters out to Harry, she wanted to hide her smile but she can’t, she knows and he knows that she is just bursting with this radiant glow and happiness on her face. Feeling so thankful for this to happen and why on earth she ever deserved this, wondering where this boy has been all of her life.

They start to sort through boxes and continue to decorate the tree, with y/n doing the bottom half and her passing any ornaments up to Harry to put on the places that she can’t reach. She catches Harry’s staring at her from the corner of her eye, but really she has always noticed that Harry was secretly been keeping an eye on her. He was the boy that never moved his eyes, they just would stay in one place. Soon, as the night passed on and the moon came out, his eyes did move but they just never left hers.

Her heart was starting to feel warm and her hands were becoming to feel extremely clammy. They were near the end of being done and she didn’t wanna leave, she loved spending time with Harry but she also didn’t know how to express her feelings. But unknown to her Harry was having the exact same worries as her.

They both step back wanting to get a better view of the tree, now in all of its glory. The bright white colored lights, the many green and red ornaments, even the oddly shaped kiwi ornament that Harry claims came from his many late night adventures to the store and thought it was cute. But the very most important part was the angel standing tall and beautiful at the very top. Harry looks over at y/n catching notice of her smile, it was like a blur and she was the only thing in the room but them two. The beams from the lights bouncing off and lighting up each fragment of her face, making her look even more beautiful. He just wants to make her his by the end of the night.

“You look beautiful” Harry just blurts out and he doesn’t understand himself where it really came from. He stands there just as frozen as the ice starting to harden out on the pavement on the roads, at any moment something else might just slip out of his mouth. He notices that her face drops when he makes the comment but Harry really isn’t sure what has come to it. Does she hate him now and want to leave? This is a bad idea, Harry shouldn’t of ever done this, why would some simple normal girl ever want anything to do with a guy like Harry.

“I like you Harry” She whispers feeling a bit more confident, even enough to look up at him to see how he will feel.

She knows deep down somewhere that Harry must feel the same was that she does, I mean why invite her over here, compliment her on her height and now say that she is beautiful. She decides to walk over to him but not to do anything else just to look up into his eyes, detecting every motion and detail to his face.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asks, and y/n just stands there giving Harry the ok to proceed. He lifts his left hand up to her cheek while leaning down to her face. Harry still feels so nervous, not knowing what to take of it. What is this for them, will they become boyfriend and girlfriend or will y/n leave and never come back, breaking his heart.

“Please” She begs out to him, trying to sound seductive but doesn't know at the attempt. Harry doesn’t do anything yet though, won’t move yet.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks one more time, making sure that is just what she wants to do, not wanting to pressure her into anything. Hoping that he doesn’t seem pushy or think she might regret after it happens.

“Harry just kiss me!” y/n says urgently not wanting to wait any second longer, to feel Harry onto her.

That’s when Harry takes the very last opportunity and leans down to her and catches her lips in between his, lightly drifting his hand onto her lips pulling her closer to him. She takes her left hand running her finger tips onto his cheek up into his hair, lightly tugging wanting him even closer. Her lips are so soft and Harry just doesn’t wanna let go, he is pulling him in even further captivating him. He tastes a slight taste of peppermint to her lips, smirking at the memories he had of that same sweet smell this morning. But Harry stands here kissing y/n like she is water and he is parched, wanting more and to never stop. He can hear the faint sound of whimpers coming from her mouth each moment that they open each others mouth, trying to move against each other. He smirks knowing that he is making her feel this way, never guessing that the night would play out this way.

He’s guiding her thumb running up his jaw, tilting her face up to his taking in any moment to have her closer to him. Her heart was starting to race and she doesn’t know why, was she actually having true feelings for this boy. Should she have confessed her feelings and would Harry want the same things that she does. Dreaming as much as coming home to see him lying on the couch for her at home giving him a welcoming kiss and just loving life. But would that be real or just some type of fairytale playing over and over in her head.

But that’s when Harry lets go, he’s breathing heavily and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s still leaning his forehead against hers, still wanting to feel her skin on his. Her light breathing and her chest rising up and down, is it from the short makeout or maybe she is nervous on what to say or do at this point.

“Will you stay?” Harry asks, deciding to talk first. She looks up at Harry smiling just as much as on the outside as on the inside. Harry only ever expected to be with his family spending the holidays together, but never woke up expecting he would be right here with her. Now deep down he is so thankful for this storm keeping them both from being apart from each other.

To give him an answer she lightly pecks the side of his cheek, smiling into him and pulling away. Happy to how the night will play out and the rest of their lives. Dropping her hand to her side and searching for his to grasp and intertwine hers with his. Needing to feel the warmth of skin onto hers, even if that didn’t mean his lips. This morning she didn’t expect that her day would play out like this but on Christmas night she realizes that this was the only Christmas wish she could have asked for.

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pippintully · 7 years

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Dream Daddy Cult Ending

Okay, so I’ve gone through Dream Daddy’s files, and have found the cult ending! I’m pretty sure you can’t actually get this ending, but I wanted to share it. I know I got frustrated trying to find it online.

CULT ENDING BELOW CUT

Player Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. What time is it? Must have been asleep for ages. I wonder what will happen now that Mary is gone? What about Joseph’s kids?And how will Amanda feel about all this? ...Well, we all have each other. That’s what matters. I guess time will tell, right? Better get up and greet the day. ... Wait. Why am I tied up?! What the hell?! How did I get here? What’s going on?! Joseph? Anybody? Don’t panic. You’re probably just dreaming. Why would there be a... ...a dungeon. An evil dungeon. Why would there be an evil dungeon here? This can’t be real. Maybe I had too much Twilight Rouge. I’m... dreaming, or something.

??? Oh, I guarantee this is real.

I can see someone at the end of the hall. It’s just a shape… I can barely make out any features.

Player Who’s there? Can you untie me?

??? It’s a personal guarantee. A verbal handshake. Trust, if that’s what you get off on.

Player Please, I… I don’t know how I got here. I think there’s been a mistake.

??? You trust me, right? I mean, why wouldn’t you?

Player Joseph?! Jesus, what is this? Are you into this kind of thing? I wish you’d have warned me.

Joseph Into this kind of…? Hah! Ha ha! I always liked you, {$PlayerFirstName}. Goal oriented, anchored by family. The rock in a shallow sea. And down to pound, if you catch my meaning. I had a whale of a time last night. Get it? Whale? We talked extensively about whales last night? You don’t really like them? ... You’re not in a joking mood. I get that.

Player His voice is different. This whole situation is different. The way he’s talking… it’s…

Joseph Dastardly? Sadistic? It can be both. Throw another one in there. Wrathful. That one’s good.

Player Wait… How did he…?

Joseph I’m very perceptive. A good listener. I heard all those impure thoughts, {$PlayerFirstName}, and about a married man, no less. I’m pretty sure that’s a sin.

Player Who… are you?

Joseph I told you, I’m a cool youth minister. Have you seen my tattoos? Were you even watching me tear it up on the dance floor? … You used to be a lot more fun. Well, hi. My name is Joseph. I have an alcoholic whore wife, whose life I destroyed.

Player Poor Mary…. And their kids…

Joseph laughs.

Joseph My kids? Those aren’t my kids. Well, they are my kids. In a way. Cosmically. I guess you could call them… vessels. And in that case I guess that technically makes me not a Dad. Woops. Sorry to kill that little fantasy for you.

Player Joseph, this is insane. So the whole minister thing... that’s just a front for this weird sex dun-

Joseph starts laughing hysterically. He wipes a tear from his eye.

Joseph Oh, that’s so cute. You think this is a sex thing.

Player I mean, it’s kind of a sex thing. The safe word is “Jimmy Buffett.”

Joseph {$PlayerFirstName}, there are powers at work so far beyond your understanding that the very idea that I would sink to some half-baked sex game is a little insulting. All that religion mumbo-jumbo wasn’t entirely false. I am a man of the cloth, just not the cloth you’re thinking of. I am the conduit for something beautiful, {$PlayerFirstName}. Something pure. And you have the honor of being part of it. I know that sounds kinda hokey but stick with me. I promise I’ll get back to being relatably cool in a second. Where you really are is under the house. Or I guess, under the houses.

Player The houses…? Are we… under the cul-de-sac?

Joseph Hey, deductive reasoning! Points for {$PlayerFirstName}!

Player How did nobody notice a dungeon underneath the town? Somebody would have had to—

Joseph And it’s not a dungeon. Dungeons are for old castles and twelve year olds. This place is… how would I describe it? Inhabiting many spaces. The betweens of the world. The gaps in mathematics. It’s quite simply beyond you, I’m afraid. Just think of it as the real Margarita Zone.

Player This is too much… my head hurts…

Joseph {$PlayerFirstName}, ever wonder where all the wives and husbands in town went? Why everyone’s an eligible single father?

Player ...I just thought it was a coincidence.

Joseph Nothing’s a coincidence, idiot. No town in America has such a concentration of eligible, willing Dads. And do you want to know why?

Player I don’t know if I do, Joseph.

Joseph Because of me. Because of my work. Because of my loyalty.

Player Loyalty? You’re insane. Profoundly.

Joseph How many couples have I pushed to divorce? How many wives and husbands have I hunted in the dark?

Player Wait… Amanda’s mom… Cora… it can’t be…

Joseph I unfortunately can’t take credit for that one. It seems entropy beat me to the punch.

Player I don’t know if that’s a relief or not.

Joseph But man, what if I had? The look on your face would’ve been priceless. Maple Bay is a psychic beacon of unfathomable power, but it requires sacrifice. It needs to feed on those deep, unquenchable pangs of anguish. Out there, in the dark of the sea, lies something that has been waiting to return for a hundred million years. It showed the path to Jonah, my ancient ancestor, as it has shown the path to me. And I will fuck each Dad whose life I destroy until the shame and stink of their failures has returned our eternal king to life. The fuel of a hundred thousand rank darknesses of the soul.

Player Wow…

Joseph Do you have anything you’d like to say?

Player I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do.

Joseph What about Amanda? Just kidding! You don’t get to choose. I know you’re used to being in control here. But now it’s my turn. And don’t worry yourself about Amanda.

Player If you touch her…

Joseph Please, {$PlayerFirstName}, give me some credit. Look at my pedigree. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s some other business I need to attend to. Your dear friend Robert has been awfully worried about you… I think it’s about time that miserable drunk gets one last visit from the Dover Ghost.

Player This is a nightmare.

Joseph A beautiful nightmare, wouldn’t you agree? All along you’ve been living a dream, Daddy. Now it’s time to wake

Player How long was I out? When is he coming back? How do I get out of here?

A hand slips over my mouth.

??? Don’t say anything. Hell, don’t even think anything.

Player ...?

Mary It’s okay, {$PlayerFirstName}. It’s me. I’m gonna get you out of here.

She kneels down and starts working on the ropes around my ankles.

Mary I gotta be honest, I didn’t like you at first.

Player I guess I did try to break up your marr—

Mary Shh! Shut up for once. Look, truth is I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for the both of us. I don’t think you’re a bad person, despite what you might think of me. I don’t want it to end like this. Not again.

I raise my eyebrows at her.

Mary Come on. Who do you think lived in that house before you?

Player I...

Mary Don’t think about it. Not right now. [ShockedMary] He’s coming. Run, kid.

Mary finishes untying me and disappears.

Player I have to get out of here. I get out of the chair and run as fast as I can down the hallway outside of my… holding cell. Eventually I run out of breath. I can’t keep sprinting. Not with these Dad knees. I check myself. All I have are the clothes on my back and… this thing in my pocket. The pocket knife that Robert gave me. If I have to defend myself, this is all I have. Looking ahead of me, I can’t see the end of the hallway — it bends further up there. I look back and can’t even see where I started. I guess the only thing I can do is keep going and hope there’s a way out on the other end. If there is an other end… The hallway bends and twists. Sometimes it gets smaller, to the point where I have to crawl on my hands and knees to get through. Sometimes it expands into a great cavern where I can’t even see the ceiling. I see no way out other than to keep moving forward. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking, but my body aches with soreness. I’m long past dehydration. My head is pounding. My vision is blurred. I lean up against the walls of the hallway for support. I’m not sure how I’m still going. And yet still here I am. I’ve been walking for what I think must be days. It could be weeks… months… The exhaustion has sunk into my bones. I drift in and out of consciousness. I think I’ve slept, if you can call it sleep. My dreams are plagued with nightmares of being chased down this hallway. I see Joseph’s kids. They hide in the shadows. They’re coming to drag me back to Joseph. Oh god, Joseph. I can see his face so clearly in those dreams. I don’t know why I keep moving, why I keep placing one foot in front of the other. My clothes are tattered and my shoes have worn through. My hell is inescapable. Until... It’s… a door. A door at the dead end of the hallway. I place my hand on the knob, seeing for the first time my gnarled fingernails and stretched, papery skin. I open the door and walk through. ...I’m in my house?! How did that…?

Amanda rushes into the room, wrapping her arms around me in a ferocious bear hug.

Amanda Where have you been?! Are you okay? I tried calling you like thirty times!

Player A...Amanda?

Amanda What happened? Did the boat break down or something?

Player Oh… I… um…

Amanda You know what? I’m just glad you’re home.

I look down and at myself and my clothes. They’re… there. My shoes are on. My fingernails aren’t gnarled.

Player I feel… fine.

I hug Amanda again. Nothing has ever felt as good in my entire life. I have to choke back tears of relief.

Player Amanda… I’m… so glad to see you. You have no idea.

Amanda Wow, one night at sea. You didn’t see a whale, did you? You poor thing.

Player No whale could keep me from my daughter.

Amanda You’re damn right.

Player You know what? You need breakfast. A very greasy breakfast.

Amanda That sounds amazing.

Amanda skips out of the room.

Player This is all so confusing… was it a dream?

Amanda By the way, is it okay if Emma P. comes over tonight?

Player Emma P.?

Amanda You know, my best friend?

Player Oh, sure. Wait… I thought… isn’t Emma R. your best friend?

I sit down on the couch, suddenly very exhausted. All I want is to have a big plate of hashbrowns with my daughter by my side while I quietly work on my word jumbles. I reach over to the coffee table and grab my trusty book of jumbles. This is… this is a crossword puzzle. I stare at it for too long.

Player Hey Amanda…

Amanda pops her head in from the kitchen.

Amanda Workin’ hard on these eggs, Dadtron. If you want the perfect over-medium I gotta be in the zone.

Player When’s your birthday?

Amanda Why, did you get me something?

Player No, seriously. When’s your birthday?

Amanda My birthday? Dad, really? Do I have to answer this?

Player I have seen a lot of weird stuff today, Amanda. Humor me.I have seen a lot of weird stuff today, Amanda. Humor me.

Amanda My birthday is… It’s… … Nothing gets past you, huh? You know, I almost had you going there for a sec. Was it the crossword puzzle that gave it away? You know, I try so hard to nail the details. Like, cooking you breakfast? Over-medium eggs with hash browns? Come on. That’s so you. And my Amanda impression? I really think I stuck the landing on her irreverent yet wholesome tone. The whole “manic pixie dream daughter” thing? I should’ve been on Broadway with these chops. I feel like you’re not appreciating how much work I’ve put in here.

Cracks begin to form along the walls around me. I look down and see the floor collapsing in tiles. As the walls, crumble… I see where I truly am.

Joseph Almost got away, huh? Dunno how you got out of those ropes. You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?

Player Mary…

Joseph Oh right! Mary! She’s rocking the tag team with you, isn’t she? Funny, here I was thinking marriage was about trust. You know I thought I was gonna take care of Robert, and then here you were trying to make your escape and honestly {$PlayerFirstName} you’re just killing my whole timeline here.

Player Wait… Robert.

As quick as I can, I pull his folding knife out of my pocket and lunge for Joseph, throwing all my force into him—

Joseph knocks the knife out of my hand. It skitters across the room.

Joseph Aw, man. {$PlayerFirstName}, I thought we were cool. I thought we had a thing here. What happened to Margarita Zone?

Player …

Joseph Welp, sorry bud, but I guess I’m gonna have to do ya dirty.

Player ... Joseph Doing you dirty means I have to kill you.

Joseph wraps his hands around my neck, smiling as he tightens his grip.

Joseph What’s wrong? You were so into this last night.

Player I have no strength left to fight him. This is it. Isn’t it? The world goes quiet around me. All I can think about is Amanda… I miss her so much. I’m sorry Amanda. I love you more than anything. Please be good…

Joseph’s eyes go wide. He releases his grip on me and I gasp in air. He turns around.

Mary It’s over, Joseph.

Joseph Honey, sweetie, you… stabbed me.

Mary You stole so much of my life from me.

Joseph backs away from Mary, clutching the wound on his shoulder.

Joseph Sweetheart… we can work this out.

Mary I’m done with you.

Chris Father?

Chris peeks into the doorway behind Mary. He looks… different. Behind him are Christian, Christie, and Crish, who all creep into the room.

Chris Father… we’re so hungry. Won’t you feed us, Father?

Mary turns to me and holds out a hand.

Mary Hey, sailor. It’s time to go.

The children corner Joseph as I crawl to Mary, who pulls me into the hallway. I look back into the room at the horror I had escaped. I… it’s… The more I look at it, the more it seems to break my mind. I turn away, my head pounding.

Joseph This body is but a conduit, Mary! I’ll see you in your nightmares!

Player What the hell?

- - -

My eyes open and I shoot up in bed, gasping for air.

Amanda Dad!

Amanda leaps off of the chair in my room and attacks me with a hug.

Player Amanda! This is the best hug of my life.

Amanda I was so worried about you…

Player I’m so happy to see her again… Wait. Amanda… what’s your birthday?

Amanda It’s March 22nd. You got me a record player and we ate an ice cream cake at the beach? But then I dropped the ice cream cake and got sand all over it? Remember?

Player I… I remember that. Panda I missed you so much. What… what happened?

Amanda You don’t remember?

Player ...

Amanda The yacht sank. The rescue crews had to pull you out of the water. That was a few days ago. They found something in the Yacht wreckage. Some documents that showed he was embezzling funds from the church. Nobody’s seen him since. There’s a detective here who’s been waiting to talk to you. He’s nice but he’s drinking all of our coffee. Lemme go grab him.

Player Wait…

Amanda Yeah?

Player Amanda, I love you so much.

Amanda I love you too, Dad.

Amanda skips out of the room, and in a moment Mary enters with… ...the guy I saw in the hallway.

??? Rise and shine, bucko.

Player Mary… are you okay?

Mary You know it was a real shame, what happened to Joseph. I had no idea he was doing what he was doing to the church. And I can’t believe he ran once the feds showed up, leaving me to take care of our four beautiful children on my own.

Player …

Mary But don’t worry, they’re staying with my parents out in the midwest til this all blows over.

Mary stares at me, waiting for me to say something.

Player ...

Mary Good answer.

??? Glad to see you’ve both got your story straight.

Mary I’m happy you’re okay. I was worried about you.

Player Thanks, Mary.

Mary cracks a smile before turning and leaving my room.

Mary Take it sleazy, fellas.

Once the door closes, the man pulls up a chair and sits next to my bed.

??? You don’t know me, but I know a lot about you, {$PlayerFirstName}. Been keeping tabs on you for a while

Player Who are you?

Saul Graves. Detective Saul Graves. There’s strange and mysterious forces at work here in Maple Bay. What you saw down there… what we both saw down there… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget it. And I get the feeling that you won’t be able to, either. But it’s my job to get to the bottom of this.

Player So what does this mean for me?

Saul It means to live your life like none of this ever happened. Go be happy. Go raise your daughter. Go fall in love. Be well, {$PlayerFirstName}.

Saul walks to the door of my bedroom, but stops. He turns to me.

Saul And… Little Barry and I have been on our own for a while now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s that us Dads have to help each other out. Get some rest. But if you’re not doing anything later… maybe you give me a call.

#dream daddy #dream daddy cult #cult ending #cult #joseph #mary #joseph cult #I literally spent like 3 hours of my life going through the files #I couldn't find this elsewhere so I'm posting it here!#dream daddy cult ending #spoilers inside #joseph bad ending #dream daddy joseph #dream daddy mary #dream daddy robert #robert

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