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lizzie-is-here · 2 years

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like the dawn

part v- the captain, the winter soldier, and the angel

“you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame. i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name.” - a.j (via ddaredevil)

summary: the world’s first avengers fall, and only one rises from the rubble. or so they think.

wordcount: 4.9k

warnings: cussing, violence, brainwashing, mild torture (?), dehumanization, hydra sucking ass in the worst way possible, google translate probably being very wrong, steve being a sad little bitch, bucky being a sad little bitch, you being a sad little bitch, me being a very sad little bitch you get the point

a/n: that new trending effect feels like a personal attack 🤡. anyway i finished this the other day and completely forgot about it so it’s a bit late! sorry lol. hope u enjoy <333

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll

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New York, 2011.

With a gasp, Steve Rogers wakes up in a hospital room.

Something seems off.

The radio isn’t as crackly as it should be. The buildings outside look wrong. And when a nurse walks in, he startles even more.

Her tie is too wide, her hair is down. She… she almost looks like you. Oh, god, where are you?

“Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?” She chuckles.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City,” she says. Steve listens closer to the game. He went to that game.

Narrowing his eyes, he asks again. “Where am I really?”

The “nurse” chuckles nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The game. It’s from May 1941. I know, ‘cause I was there.” He rises from the bed, now very ready to fight this lady, find you, and sprint from the building. This could be HYDRA, or some sick test by the US military. He doesn’t know where you are, but he’s determined to find you before you bust in and kick ass.

“Now, I’m going to ask you again. Where am I?”

The woman subtly presses a button, trying to stall as the soldiers rush towards the contained room. “Captain Rogers…” she began.

“Who are you?” Steve demands. Soldiers bust through the door, only causing him to panic further. He busts through the back wall with little effort, only to find that, indeed, the room was fake.

It’s a set, contained within another, much more unwelcoming room. The woman shouts as he runs out the doors.

Scrambling into another area, Steve notices more things looking… off. There are walls made of glass, almost every woman is wearing pants, and everyone’s hair looks strange.

There are lights, but he can’t tell where they’re coming from. The building is unnaturally cold, but the familiar hum of AC is gone.

And when he makes it outside, he’s sure he’s dreaming. The cars look so different, and there’s hundreds of them. Instead of hand-painted store signs, there are glowing letters.

He stops in the middle of a busy street. Giant panels of moving pictures surround him, advertising unfamiliar products as words flicker past.

Everything is so bright, so overwhelming.

Sleek, black cars surround him, and out steps a man wearing an eyepatch.

“At ease, soldier,” he yells. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Break what?”

The man pauses, giving an almost sympathetic look.

“You’ve been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years.”

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1945.

With a scream, you woke up on a medical table.

You were strapped down, IVs sticking out from your arms here and there. You struggled against the restraints, growing more panicked as they refused to budge.

The door to the room swung open. Arnim Zola.

“What the hell is this,” you growled, still fighting.

He only grinned. “Well, Miss, at first you were a bargaining chip. A way to funnel money from the US.” He circled your bed like a vulture, picking you apart with a methodical eye.

“But when we ran some tests, we found that you have a very special genome.” The Doctor tapped an almost-empty IV bag. “And we just had to take advantage of that. Don’t worry, the process will be painful, but it will be over soon.”

You furrowed your brows. “What process?”

Instead of answering you, the doors swung open to reveal half a dozen soldiers in full tac gear. You recognized the emblem on their chest.

HYDRA.

You fought even harder then, never stopping as they removed the IVs and unclipped the restraints. As soon as you were free, you swung at one of them.

The motion of a punch was familiar. The soldier flying back and into the wall across the room was not.

You froze, and they took the advantage of your shock, wrangling you and leading you from the room. The hallways were dark, and the floor seemed to have been recently soaked with a strong disinfectant.

Finally, they opened a set of double doors to a large room. More HYDRA soldiers were swarming the area, plus some higher ranking individuals.

Their heads turned as you were dragged in, but your eyes only fell on the machine in the middle.

It was a small platform, with a large, circular ring around it covered in machinery. There were four places where you suspected they’d lock your hands and feet. Behind it the ring were two rectangular panels, with small needles arrayed across them.

They were going to experiment on you. Bad from the look of the glowing golden vials, it wasn’t your normal medicine.

As they locked you in, you tried to absorb every detail about the room. If you could deduce where you were, maybe you could send for help…

The sound of machinery whirring caused you to look around in alarm, only to wince in pain when the rectangular panels settled on your back, needles pressing into your skin. Dr. Zola walked out in front of you, gesturing to the HYDRA agents in the room.

“Today, we gain another soldier to become, not a fist of HYDRA, but a scythe. Agent (L/N) possesses a genome that, when unlocked with my research and exposed to the serum, will result in enhancements beyond any normal man.”

He turned to you as scientists loaded the glowing vials into the machine. “HYDRA owes the United States a large debt for sending you, Fräuline.”

You sneered. “The US didn’t send me, you Nazi piece of shit. I came here myself, because I was looking for Sergeant James Barnes.” Leaning forward as far as the machine would allow you, you spat at the scientist. “Where the fuck is he?”

Zola only grinned. “You need not worry about the Sergeant, Agent (L/N). You really should be worrying about yourself.”

The needles fired, piercing your skin as you yelled out in pain. Immediately, you could feel a burning feeling rush through your veins, traveling through your body.

Through your watery eyes, you caught a glimpse of your torso. You’d been stripped down to a tank top and shorts, but you could see a glow tracing your veins.

When the vials finally emptied and you had screamed your throat sore, the cuffs were unlocked and you were pulled down from the platform. Your vision blurred as you were led from the room, into a smaller containment cell, and strapped down on a cot.

And then the piercing, burning pain in your shoulder blades began.

———————————————————————

New York, 2012.

In a small shawarma joint, Steve sits down with his new team. The future has been an adjustment, but something in him tells him that he won’t have to go it alone anymore.

As annoying as Howard’s son is, and as strange as the doctor and Norse god can be, they almost remind him of the Howling Commandos. Loud, but caring about each other no matter how irritating. Family, though a bit dysfunctional.

He knows you and Bucky would be proud of him. Proud of making his way through this uncharted territory with new friends.

When he woke up from the ice, he almost had hope you’d survived, maybe as an old woman in a nursing home, bitterly raving to anyone who would listen about your idiotic best friends.

But when he was told you’d gone missing looking for his and Bucky’s bodies, his optimism had been dashed. Of course you wouldn’t give up. It would’ve been unlike you.

Frowning slightly, Steve pulls a carefully folded picture from the pocket of his new uniform. Though worn by time, the image is still clear.

Him, Bucky, and you, all laying across each other on a cot back at Camp Lehigh. Planning raids took a lot of energy, and often you three would just collapse on top of each other in the meeting room instead of returning to your barracks.

He’s complaining about a poster of his USO tours as you and Bucky listen. The latter is grinning as you roll your eyes affectionately, clearly annoyed with his whining.

“Who’s that?” the redhead assassin, Natasha, asks. When Steve shows her the picture, she nods. “Barnes and (L/N), right?”

She leans back in her chair. “For what it counts, I’m sorry. They seem like they were a lot like you.”

When he raises a curious brow, she smirks. “Stubborn.” And she goes back to eating her food, exchanging ASL with the archer as he shovels falafel into his mouth.

‘They were,’ Steve thinks. ‘They really were.’

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1946.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you shouted, fighting against the chains as your wings flapped desperately.

The process of growing them was torturous. Firstly, the wings had to burst from your back in what you could only describe as lava pouring from your spine. Then, the wound had to heal around the new wings.

Since the human body wasn’t designed to support two extra limbs, your entire center of gravity was shifted. Learning to walk was a whole new process, much less learning to fly. For months, you were clumsy and unstable, and even a year later you could barely fly. Not to mention the constant upkeep they required in the form of preening.

You hated the ink-black feathers that were a part of you. You hated how intimidating they were. They looked like a physical embodiment of death.

But that was just the beginning.

Whatever Zola had injected into you had given you enhanced healing and strength. Plus some… new powers.

You didn’t even realize you had them until one day, when fighting against the soldiers dragging you back to your cell, blinding light poured from your hands, blinding the men. The fluorescent lights had crackled above you, flickering on and off as you heaved gasps of air.

Later, they had thrown you into a room with another soldier and ordered you to fight. You won, but the man was bleeding out. He was young, maybe not even 20. You had knelt down, ghosting a hand over the wound on the back of his head.

As you did so, the skin stitched back together, his bruises faded, and his heart rate returned.

In your opinion, it was a sick joke. An angel working for the devil.

You froze as a scientist approached, monitoring your heart rate and breathing as they shoved you into a chair. It was like they were preparing you for something.

You growled at the man. “Get off me before I rip those glasses off your face and shove them up your goddamn-“

“There is no need for such threats, Asset.” Zola.

They’d taken to referring to you as an asset, a soldier, sometimes the “Scythe of HYDRA” or “The Angel of Death”. It was pretentious.

You had forgotten your serial number months ago, much to your despair, but you still remembered so much.

Your name was (Y/N) (L/N), you were an agent for the US, you were born in 1918, and you were still looking for Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.

You sat in the chair, glancing around as two pieces of machinery lowered. A mouth guard was shoved into your mouth and a drip was pressed into your arm.

Dr. Zola stood before you. “If all goes correctly, you will be the perfect soldier for HYDRA. If not…” He shrugged. “Well, we have a plan for that.”

The machine settled on your forehead and cheek, and before you knew it, blinding pain shot through you. He circled you, shouting unfamiliar words.

“Свет, ворон, восемнадцать…”

You screamed over the words, unable to focus on anything but the dangerous amount of electricity surging through your nerves.

When he was done, the machine relented, pulling away as you shuddered and spat out the mouth guard. Your entire body was trembling, whether from fear, pain, or energy you weren’t sure.

“Солдат?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes.

“What?”

Zola sighed in disappointment, gesturing to a soldier. “It’s not ready. Put her on ice, and bring the other asset in.”

You didn’t have the energy to protest, much less comprehend the oddly familiar man led past you. From the looks of it, he was too drugged up to recognize you either. A flash of silver caught your eye, but your hazy vision slid onto the next thing.

In a flash, you were led into a chamber, your wings tucked inside, and the lid lowered. Lazily looking around, you blinked slowly as a hissing sound filled the tube.

The last thing you remembered was an all-encompassing cold, and then darkness.

———————————————————————

Siberia, 1968.

Over time, Dr. Arnim Zola perfected his brainwashing machine. And every so often, he would pull his two favorite assets from their cryotubes to train them, perfect their enhancements, and reattempt his machine.

It didn’t work until nearly 20 years after the first attempt.

First on the Winter Soldier, and then on the Angel. And that was when the fun could really begin.

You tried to fight it, but eventually, the electricity combined with the carefully designed trigger words managed to carve out every memory.

Your name was… what was it? What did you do for work? The year you were born was completely lost to you, and two names you couldn’t quite remember floated around your head.

In your place was the Asset. The Angel. And she was ruthless.

With two clean slates to work with, HYDRA set out to create its best killers. Learning languages and fighting styles was a cinch when your mind was empty, after all.

HYDRA entered a new age of power. Thanks to its Fist and its Scythe, it had full control of governments, trade deals, even international conflicts. Assassinations, bombings. Anything to push HYDRA’s representatives into power.

And they owed it all to their best soldiers.

While the Winter Soldier was famous for his brutality, the Angel was more renowned for her precision. Once a bow was given to you and you were trained to form shapes with the light that poured from your hands, you were a deadly force, firing arrows of light that pierced through materials and left no evidence behind.

The darkness of your wings was intentional, a way to fly undetected through the night, and your gift for healing meant you were rather sturdy.

The Winter Soldier was a perfect assassin, and the titanium prosthetic combined with super-strength meant that his victims would be spared no pain. There was just one problem.

The two were unstable.

Prone to dissociating, wandering, and violent fits of rage that required HYDRA to enlist more guards every month as replacements.

The Soldier was easy to contain. A sturdy enough cage would hold him. But the Angel’s powers meant possible blinding, searing burns from pure light, and powerful gales from a single flap of your wings.

So in 1968, HYDRA came to the conclusion to introduce the two. Companionship was a need ingrained into human brains, unable to be removed. And considering that the two assets had a connection in the past…

Worst case, they could wipe the two. Best case, their most valuable killers would combine into an even more deadly team.

In a small room, guarded and heavily monitored, the Winter Soldier and the Angel of Death were introduced. You circled each other for a bit, each curiously analyzing the other.

Until you sat down on the floor, patting the spot in front of you. Your wings fanned out behind you, resting on the cold tile in a swathe of black.

The former followed suit, unsure of what to do. Neither had free will very often, so now, left to your own devices, there wasn’t much to do.

“What’s your name?” the Angel asked. English was always the easiest language for you, despite knowing dozens. A bit of the woman hidden underneath peering out.

“The Winter Soldier,” he replied. You shook your head.

“What do you want me to call you?”

Want. What did he want? He thought for a moment. “… Winter.” You nodded. Not like you could judge the odd choice. You didn’t even know if you had a name. “And you?”

Hmm. You didn’t like the names they called you. They all seemed so… technical. More so observations than names.

“… Bird.” Winter frowned.

“Bird?” he asked. You nodded, gesturing to your wings. They fluttered lightly. He reached out. “Can I?”

That shocked you. No one had ever asked before. The scientists and guards were rather rough with your wings, despite their sensitivity.

The limbs seemed to react to the slightest of stimulation, jolting away from unexpected touches.

But he asked. He asked and was willing to back off if you said no. Something in you stirred, like a deep familiarity. The man sitting across from you. The names you couldn’t remember.

Who were you?

The brief flash was gone as soon as his cold metal arm touched your wing. The chill raced up your body, causing you to lightly shudder. He recoiled instantly, only leaning back in when you nodded.

This time with the flesh arm, he ran his hand through the soft feathers, marveling at the feeling. Even if they scraped out the man inside, a bit of his curiosity remained.

You weren’t allowed to interact much longer. Led away from each other and to your separate rooms, the next time that the two interacted was right before going back under the ice.

———————————————————————

New York, 2013.

Steve ducks his head as he passes by a group of children in the Smithsonian. Every so often, he visits his exhibit to reminisce and get in his monthly angst.

The exhibit tells a story of a hero lost to time, emerging victorious and leading Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to victory.

They hardly mention the man wandering past the glass boxes and articles. But that was how this life was. It was his job to be a symbol.

These days, it seemed to be getting harder. Fury was sending him on mission after mission, and Steve was getting fed up. Plane rides seemed to account for most of his days, nursing wounds taking up even more time.

He pauses in between two exhibits. On his right, a display describes his life in the simplest terms, grazing over his childhood. An entire paragraph is dedicated to his death that day on the train.

On his left, another display speaks of how you broke molds, defied expectations, and mysteriously disappeared one day from Camp Lehigh. All you left behind were journals and a locked box that was yet to be opened.

Pausing to make sure no one is around, Steve lets his guard down.

“I turned down a mission today,” he says, fiddling with the dog tags around his neck. “It was to the Grand Canyon. And… knowing how badly you two wanted to go-” Pausing to sniffle a bit, he composes himself.

“It didn’t feel right to go without you. Nothing feels right without you.”

“I know the world expects 72 years to be enough for me to move on, but for me? Two years isn’t nearly enough time to come to terms with it all.”

“But I think…” He sighs, feeling far too tired. “I think I’m at the end of the line here. Don’t know how you did it, (Y/N), even if it was just for a few weeks.”

Neither of your pictures respond.

———————————————————————

Ulan-Ude, Russia, 1976.

“Солдат, я вижу целевую машину [Soldier, I have eyes on the target’s vehicle].” Perched atop a building, you tapped a hand to your comms. The Winter Soldier lurked in an alley across from you, eyeing the approaching car’s headlights as they pierced through the night.

The target stepped out, swaggering into the high-society meeting unaware of the two assassins monitoring his every move. The Soldier adjusted his grip on his knife, grimacing as his metal arm struggled to calibrate in the cold.

The frost coating it had sent chills radiating from his shoulder, only increasing the constant pain. He groaned aloud as the car pulled away, settling in for the waiting game.

“Что-то не так [Is something wrong]?” you asked, ready to swoop down. He shook his head. “Рука [The arm]?” His quiet huff told you you were right.

You tsked, slumping down on the roof. Your wings shivered, the wind buffeting the soft feathers from your exposed spot. Holding out a hand, you focused as a small, glowing, golden orb appeared. The warm glow softened your clenched jaw, even under the overbearing mask restricting your face.

“Ангел? Что делаешь [Angel? What are you doing]?” You closed your fist immediately, suffocating the light.

You frowned. “Мне жаль [I’m sorry].”

Before he could respond, the doors flew open as the target stumbled out, clenching his stomach. The tainted drink had run its course. His chauffeur and bodyguards pulled the car around as you drew back your bow, empty of arrows.

“Стрельба [Firing],” you said, feeling power flow from your fingers as a line of golden light formed, feathering out and sharpening into an arrow.

You took out the driver first, then the two bodyguards in the car. The arrows dissolved as quickly as they were formed, only leaving a burning wound in their place.

Two guards remained as you spread your wings, soaring through the falling snow as the Soldier emerged from his hiding spot.

A blinding flash of light incapacitated one guard, who you shot at point blank range with another arrow. The other took a knife to the gut as a metal hand wrapped around his throat.

You grabbed the politician, dragging him back to the alleyway as he squirmed under your grip. Slamming him into the wall, you aimed another arrow as the Soldier began his interrogation.

Instead of focusing on his words as you should’ve been, you could only see one thing.

Blood, dripping from his side and soaking his tactical gear. His voice called out to you.

“Солдат? Унеси это [Soldier? Take him out].”

With another flash of light, a whoosh of wings, and the revving of a motorcycle, you were gone. And a few miles later, you and the Winter Soldier slipped into a safe house a few miles away.

You scanned the room, checking for hidden cameras or mics. When it was clear, you turned to the other soldier, removing your mask as he did the same.

“You’re bleeding,” you whispered. Winter nodded. “Does it hurt?”

“… Yes. It hurts.”

With a light scoff, you gestured to your back and his arm. “When doesn’t it? Sit, sit,” you insisted, pushing him towards a couch.

He begrudgingly did so, stiff and clearly uncomfortable. You removed your gloves, rinsing your hands in a worn sink. Kneeling next to him, you gave the most reassuring smile you could.

Your nerves were still on high alert from the assignment, and healing someone wasn’t exactly a non-invasive experience. Your powers allowed you to feel the pain in a person’s body, target it, and heal them.

You had fused bones, sewn together frayed nerves, mended muscles, and removed poisons and infections from countless bodies. One wrong move could mean growing a new bone, or stitching together the wrong nerves and paralyzing your patient. That came in handy for a few assignments.

Nonetheless, it was meticulous and dangerous work, and HYDRA had been sure to give you a thorough education in medical sciences. Some part of you felt you already knew the basics, though.

Winter had only let you help a few times, and every time you could feel the unending pain in his left shoulder. He wouldn’t let you touch it, however.

“May I?” He sighed, before nodding. You hovered a hand over the knife wound, taking deep breaths as the muscles and veins were mended by a golden thread. Although you could sense a deep ache radiating from where the prosthetic was attached, you avoided the damaged nerves.

Winter hissed at the sensation.

“I know, I know. Just a little more,” you soothed, watching the skin mend. Your powers left no scarring, no evidence of the injury. Just a bit of a sore spot that would fade in hours. “There. Good as new.”

He held out a hand for you to take as you stood, shaking away a bit of dizziness. Your wings shivered, snow-soaked and practically numb. Sure, you were a super-soldier, but that didn’t mean you were immune to the icy Russian nights.

Winter rose from the couch, wordlessly heading to the fireplace. Within minutes, a small fire roared, heating the small safe house. He turned to you as you removed the top layer of your tactical gear, leaving you in a long-sleeved top. Cutouts in the back allowed your wings a wide range of motion, but also exposed you to the elements.

“Your turn,” he muttered, only waving a bloodied hand at the ground.

You sank onto the dingy carpet, letting the warmth wash over you. Winter rustled around the kitchen before returning with a towel.

“Do you want help?” he asked. He sounded almost hesitant.

You unfolded your wings, casting dark silhouettes around the room. They were imposing, dark, and reached almost ten feet across. They scared people.

But the Winter Soldier only ever looked at them in awe.

So you nodded and allowed him to wipe the ice from your wings, to dry the rain soaking your bones, and to fix the feathers that had fallen out of place. As he worked, you began to relax. As your head drooped for the nth time, he tapped your shoulder.

“Bird?” You didn’t respond, only slumped more. There wasn’t a bed in the safe house, just a dingy couch that pulled out into a bed. You two could share, but that meant putting you to sleep.

After pulling out the couch and carefully maneuvering around your wings, Winter lifted you from the floor and laid you on the worn, makeshift bed. Just as he was about to lay down on the cold floor, your hand shot out, grabbing his. Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch.

You murmured an incoherent mess that ended with, “-stay,” and a strong tug on his metal arm. He stumbled onto the couch, finally giving in and laying down. One of your wings settled on top of him, acting as a blanket.

In the morning, when HYDRA found you both intertwined under your feathers, they resorted to wiping you both again. They couldn’t take risks.

———————————————————————

Washington, d.c., 2014.

Steve sighs as a battered Nick Fury stands up, carefully choosing his words.

In the past minute, Steve’s gotten two very bad pieces of news. For one, SHIELD is compromised. And two, his apartment may be bugged.

The second is more embarrassing than a security risk. He’s been ranting to the wall for the past week, growing more and more fed up with SHIELD. He supposes he has an excuse to hate them now.

“Just… My friends,” Fury says, turning his phone around to reveal the words, “Only you and me.”

Great. So no one else knows about SHIELD’s infestation. Steve glares at him.

“Is that what we are?”

Across the street, opposite his apartment’s window, two figures stand. The Winter Soldier analyzes how Captain America stands, the direction he’s looking.

You have an empty bow drawn, waiting for the signal.

HYDRA‘s attempts to keep the both of you at arm’s reach have failed every time. It’s an endless cycle. They wipe you, you both go on a mission, and memories begin to resurface. Past missions curled up around a fire, the countless wounds of his you've healed. Previously blood -soaked hands gingerly preening your wings.

With a shake of your head, you refocus.

“Готовы, когда вы [Ready when you are],” you say. The Soldier aims his gun, glancing over to watch a glowing arrow materialize at your fingertips. Instead of saying anything about how enthralling it is, he fires.

You do the same seconds later, grabbing the Soldier by the hand and taking off into the sky, landing on a nearby roof and sprinting towards the far end. A crash and shattering of glass behind you warned of the Captain’s swift approach.

But you don’t look back, only prepare to launch off the building. Winter, however, does.

And sees a shield heading straight for your back, right between your wings. He rushes to the side, catching the shield with a glare at the blond superhero. You screech to a halt, eyes widening at the vibranium disc in the titanium hand.

A blow from that would have incapacitated you. And with no way to escape, you would’ve been killed by the owner of that shield. Winter flings it back at the man, grabbing your hand to leap from the building and fly into the night.

Your hands are so shaky you almost drop him a few times mid-air, but instead, you make it back to HYDRA’s nearest base, providing a mission report before rushing off to a small room. Two cots are placed on opposite sides of the room.

You both relax as Winter slides the door shut. No cameras in here. HYDRA didn’t care what its favorite weapons did in between missions, so long as you completed your assignments.

Immediately, you turn towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how close that was-” He cuts you off, grabbing your hand with far less urgency than he had a while earlier.

“You’re safe now. We’re okay. HYDRA said that these are our last missions. We can get out,” he whispers. He isn’t exactly lying. HYDRA had promised that your work was coming to a close.

They swore that they’d give you enough money to travel wherever you wanted, so long as you would answer if they called. The words felt too familiar. Like they’d been used to bargain with you before.

“We can get out, Bird.”

You frown.

“Can we?”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x female reader #captain america the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #stucky x winged!reader

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astroluvr · 2 years

Text

Angel Girl (Insta AU)

summary: this follows the last two parts of angel girl, and leads into the next part of their story!

a/n: this isn't anything official, i was really just bored and wanted to do an au and address some of the background for the next part of their story in a different way! this isn't an official part, just a little something! hope u enjoy

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tmz

tmz Rapper #JackHarlow has apparently just called it quits with his wife of three years #Y/NHarlow. Our sources say that the marriage was on the rocks after Harlow's intimate album chronicling their trouble conceiving that the missus didn't know about. Link in bio for more.

jackthemack NOOOO not mom and dad

flapjackharlow ogs remember when y/n was the only one giving us content. gonna miss her.

→ wannabeharlow something tells me this is just a rumor. like there's no way they're done

→ flapjackharlow i hope not!

maryoftheville I'm not surprised! Especially after he said that Y/N didn't know about that album. I would be devastated.

harlowupdates

harlowupdates can't believe we're about to lose the only person who could give us the REAL jack 😔

couldntbemrsharlow no bro i'm mad fr.

→ harlowupdates i mean at least now you can be mrs. harlow

→ couldntbemrsharlow AT WHAT COST THOUGH

mary111 he?? was?? MARRIED???

→ harlowupdates they were very private, but yeah. they got married a while back. his last two albums were all about her. they were seriously in love with each other.

angelgirl4ever she gave me my fave album 💔

claybornharlow

claybornharlow forever rocking with my sister🤞. @ynln

ynln throwing it wayyyy back lol! love u clay

→ jackssidepeece HER USERNAME

→ streamstatefair UNPRIVATE THAT ACCOUNT.

flapjackharlow this literally confirms it, i'm so sad

mary111 wait, how long have y/n and jack known each other

→ missionarylu her and clay have been friends since kindergarten, so a really long time

megang remembering that clay set them up makes the divorce rumors sadder.

et Jack Harlow doesn't clear up rumors, but he does own up to his mistakes. In an honest radio interview that aired yesterday, Harlow confirms the recent divorce between himself and the former Mrs. Harlow, Y/N L/N- whom he married the night he won his first ever Grammy for the lovesick album, Angel Girl. Follow the link for the full interview where he speaks on manhood, regret, love, and moving forward without moving on.

jacksonlygirl "Y/N gave me full right to disclose all my mistakes, and I appreciate her for that. She knows I need to confess to the shit on my chest. It's heavy as fuck."

→ missionarylu HE LOVES HER SO MUCH. GOODBYE

jackthupdates the part where he talks about how he can't write about anything that's not her.

maxxxpg he loved her fr

→ harlowontheloose *LOVES!

lailabaila if my man doesn't cry to his mother for three days straight about me, that's not my man

→ jackismyman THAT PART MADE ME HURT FOR HIM

#angel girl #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fanfiction #fan fiction #insta au #jack harlow insta au

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nowayhomer · 2 years

Note

hi! could i request a fic with fem!reader for peter parker (tom's) angst/fluff where peter kept the fact that he was spider-man from her to protect her but is forced to reveal it? u have total creative liberty! love new writers xx

hi !!! tysm for being my first request and giving me a lot of free space to work with,, hope you enjoy <3

protect us

Ⅰ. PAIRING tom!peter x fem!reader

Ⅱ. GENRE angst, fluff ending, you're open to decide if they're platonic or romantic by the end.

Ⅲ. WARNINGS usage of mature language, a minor depiction of gore, self-harm (peter punches walls and willingly lets himself get hurt from it)

Ⅳ. WORD COUNT 2,5k

peter, ned, and y/n were the dynamic trio of midtown high. the three of you practically did everything together, there was just one tally mark under your name when, for once, you had to cancel a plan. usually, peter had racked up the absences with his stark internship, but he never missed anything greatly important. it was to your luck that the night you cancelled was the night ned found out peter was spider-man.

every day after the secret revelation, peter found himself staring at you with guilt. while he hadn’t intended for ned to know about his superheroics, he felt that you should know, it was only fair. the idea was shot down immediately every time peter thought about it, ‘what if something bad happens to her because of spider-man ? because of me ?’ he played with the spaghetti on his tray before he was brought back to reality. “hey, peter, you good ?” you look at him with concern etched into your features. he hated when you made that face when you worried about him. “i’m fine, just zoned out.” peter gave a dry chuckle and felt the relief set in when he saw your brows curve back into their natural shape. he sat with his back straightened and he ate his lunch slowly, not adding much to the conversation. for peter, most of his conversations had been reduced to spider-man business and it was nice to listen to someone in his life be so blissfully unaware of all the dangers of the superhero life.

peter, however, had failed to recognise the dangers of new york. you were in delmar’s corner store for a bag of chips to snack on during the walk. you were about to hand mr. delmar until the sound of a gunshot made you drop everything and scream. you cowered on the floor, holding your arms over your head. “give me everything you got old man, or the girl gets it.” you were ripped from your fetal position and felt the gold metal of the gun against your temple. The tears poured out of you while mr. delmar shakingly opened the register. your eyes were closed while you prayed for any help to come. it all happened so fast; the gun was no longer pressed against your head, leaving its imprint on your skin. you turned was you heard the loud crack of bones shattering.

for peter, describing his feelings with the single word ‘anger’ was an understatement. peter never wore his suit faster than when he heard the cops call for assistance at delmar’s over the police radio. he swung through the streets, his arms crying as he strained to go faster. he saw the scene through the store windows and instantly recognised you. the sight of the gun against your head as the tears streamed down your face made him belligerent. peter shattered the windows as he flew in. he threw a violent punch at the robber’s jaw. the sight was sickening; his jaw was barely hanging on, and the strings of flesh were thinning as they worked overtime to keep his skull together. the cops ran in to apprehend the criminal and before he could be questioned about his sudden act of brutality, he picked you up and swung to your house.

peter gently landed on the side of the brick building and hoisted you through your window. he was about to leave before he heard your voice call out to him, “spider-man ?” his heart broke when he heard you sound broken. you sounded nasally as your throat clogged up and your nose ran from sobbing earlier. “please… come inside.” peter just could not say no and he landed with a soft thud on the wood floors of your room. his mind was running a mile a minute, conjuring up every possible scenario and every possible response from you because he knew you like the back of his hand, or so he thought. what came out of your mouth next was a chess play he had not anticipated in the game with you. “you saved me, and i want to call you my hero, but you’re not one.” you slightly backed away from spider-man. you stared at your hands and felt your breaths get ragged as you saw the way your fingers trembled. “you could have killed him. he was a bad guy but no one deserves that and i thought you would know that. i always heard stories of spider-man being a hero but in there… you were someone else… something else. how do you even know where i live, anyway ?” peter watched you through the lenses of his mask, his jaw tensed at the question. “i… look y/n please,” he reached out to you and you moved back, your legs hitting your mattress. “how do you know my name ?” peter was at a loss for words while his brain tried to declutter his jumbled emotions and find a right answer.

‘it’s now or never,’ peter pulled off his mask. he’d imagined this moment so many times and each time he’d dreamt you were excited that your best friend was a superhero because he just knew you would have been. what was unfurling in front of him was the beginning of his worst nightmare. peter saw the way your eyes glazed over, the way your mouth hung open, the way your legs shook and slowly lost the strength to carry your body. you sat on your mattress. “what the fuck… peter, what the fuck is wrong with you ?” you felt your body flare up, the skin across your back itching as the heat of your anger consumed you. peter wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say, but he stayed because even in such a scary moment as this, he wanted more than anything to hear what you had to say.

“i grew up with you, for years i stood by your side and this is what you do to me ? you don’t even clue me in on something this huge ? you were always whispering to ned and you just shut up whenever i came by. i used to think it was about a girl, but you’d always told me about your romantic endeavours so it had to be this, right ? he knew you were spider-man this whole fucking time and you never told me. you don’t trust me, do you peter ?”

“i do trust you, i just couldn’t tell you because you’d be in danger all the time just for being associated with me. i wanted to keep you safe, y/n.”

“keep me safe ? i had a fucking gun pointed at my fucking head peter. not everything revolves around your superhero life; this is the real world, where people get traumatised by a single event on what they think is a normal walk home. how am i supposed to believe you can even keep me safe after what you did to that guy ? you brutalised him, his jaw was literally hanging by threads of his flesh and you want to talk to me about ‘keeping me safe' ?”

‘i know what i did. i couldn’t control myself when i saw what that bastard was doing to you. i was just angry and i did what i could to get him away from you. you mean so much to me and i wanted to rescue you, to protect you as i’ve always been trying to do.”

“peter, being a monster doesn’t protect me, it satiates an evil in you. it was scary to see you like that and, i don’t want to see that ever again.”

“i promise, i won’t ever use my powers to hurt someone again.” peter reach his hand out to hold yours, but you moved it away. “I don’t want to see you anymore. please, get out.” peter felt like his skeleton had been ripped from his body and he was a mess of goo on the floor. he left without a word, not wanting to upset you anymore and he understood that.

peter had given up the heroics after what happened. his suit never saw the light because there was so much darkness stained on it. the fabric held memories like water; his right glove stored his sin in the threads. his mask’s intricacy was once inspiring, but now the web designs felt like they represented the spread of your emotions since finding out: horror, anger, disappointment.

he was met with trouble in everyday tasks. peter could barely hold his beakers steady in chemistry class because of his bloodied knuckles. he spent his free time punching the dumpster in alleyways, slowly losing his healing abilities. he watched you from afar and felt himself get weaker; he was wearing his glasses again and each sit up in p.e. felt painful.

you were in your room, counting and recounting the stipples on the popcorn ceiling, each time losing focus and restarting your count. you spent most of your time thinking about peter and what had happened. your memories shifted from the time peter would defend you in school from bullies at the cost of his own reputation to the time peter ruthlessly struck a man’s jaw. you thought about how he could have sent the bottom half of that man’s skull flying; at that moment peter still showed some restraint. ‘was that enough ?’ you thought. sure, spider-man was a hero to many, at one point, you had looked up to him too, but if peter couldn’t control himself when it came to you then how could you possibly consider being around him ?

that’s what all of your thoughts boiled down to how you affected peter. you spent more time considering distancing yourself from him because if you were no longer important to him he can be the good-hearted hero that’s taken new york by storm.

peter was walking out of the alley, completing the only task he could bring himself to do daily. he collided with someone; he barely stumbled back while the other had fallen to the ground. peter reached out with his good hand and helped them up, “sorry, i–” he went rigid. you stared at the face in front of you, both of your hands still holding the other. you were the first to talk, “peter, we need to talk.”

the walk together created a bubble around them, blocking out the sounds of the cars honking and people yelling to create an uncomfortable silence between them. peter unlocked the door of his apartment and let you inside. the two of you had spent so many days of your lives in peter’s room with ned, the three of you were the happiest kids on earth. when you entered his room, the light the room once had seemed to have faded. peter’s room was a mess, homework that was due weeks ago was strewn across the floor, and his posters were taken down and in a messy pile with his slightly dusty suit on top of them. “sorry about the mess,” peter clumsily moved across the room and you caught a glimpse of the knuckles of his left hand. you noticed he had recently started wearing bigger sweaters and now knew it was to cover his hands. you brought his hand up to your eyes, “peter,” your heart broke at the sight. peter watched you move towards the first aid kit he left on his desk, rummaging through it to find alcohol wipes and bandages. you were careful with his wounds, each hiss of pain was a signal for you to be more delicate. with peter’s newly bandaged hand, he led you to sit on the bed next to him.

“i thought about you, about spider-man. i was the reason you did something like that, so,” you sighed and played with the neckline of your shirt, “i thought it would be best if we aren’t friends anymore. i can't be someone that important to you for you to attack the people you’re supposed to stop. maybe if we keep our distance, i’ll fade out of existence to you and you can be a hero again.” you couldn’t bare looking at him, yet you knew what he looked like.

peter’s eyes watered and his jaw was tense. he pulled his hair and stood up abruptly, “you think that’ll solve it, do you ? do you even know why i’ve been doing this to myself ?” he pushed his wrapped hand to your view. you watched him quietly. “i’ve been beating myself up every single day over how we just ended all of a sudden. i gave up being spider-man because i couldn’t put on the suit without thinking about how scared you were of me. i never told you i was spider-man because i didn’t want you to worry about me or get involved with some fucking supervillain. ned only found out on accident, it’s never been about who i trust more or less. you don’t know how happy i was to see you every day with a smile on your face, not worrying about how badly i’d been beaten up as spider-man, and now you want to just leave me in the dust to protect me ? ever since we stopped talking, my powers have barely worked. my strength is near gone, i can’t stick to walls, and i can’t heal the way i used to. i’ve been the worst i’ve ever been without you, if you’re gone for good…”

you held peter in a tight hug as he cried on your shoulder. he pulled away to look at your face, and analyse your reactions before continuing, “i’m so sorry for scaring you and i never felt guiltier. i’ve even been visiting the guy in the hospital as a volunteer to try and at least make up for what i did in the only way i could.” you pulled him back into the hug, finding some comfort against his chest. “i promise i won’t leave you again.”

days turned to weeks as you and ned sat in front of a computer and spoke to peter over comms. peter's powers returned as his life repaired itself. spider-man was a greater hero than he was before, growing his skills, exercising restraint, and he credited all his work to his two best friends.

peter swung to your window and knocked on the glass and watched you open it to let him in. “what’s wrong ? are you okay ?” you gave him no time to respond as you held his right arm up to check for any injuries on his side. “i’m fine,” he pulled his arm away, “i just wanted to say thank you. you stood by me after seeing me at my lowest, helped me be the best spider-man i can be, the best peter i can be.” you smiled and held his hand. “of course. while you’re protecting new york, i'll be here protecting us. you know that might make me a superhero of some sort.” you end the sentiments with a joke and peter laughs, “you’ve definitely been my superhero.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #tom holland x reader #marvel fic #aurigaupdates

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harringtown · 1 year

Text

sorrow is a season

a/n: ik I've been super sporadic these last few months, but book revisions and tight deadlines have had me v busy!!!! anyways I’ve spent so so long on this and wanted to pull off some wild plot stuff but then I got busy and I figured I couldn’t just let the 2k I had go to waste and so, here we are. apologies for the wait anon, its been TOO long, but I hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie munson is dead. or is he? (aka a kas/vampire Eddie au)

word count: 4k

warnings: blood/death/violence mention

In the end, he is alone, like he always knew he would be.

Even the bats, either bored of a limp plaything or drawn away, fly off. The lightning seems to follow them, leaving Eddie alone on the grass in a cold, gray version of a place he never liked all that much to begin with.

The only thing that ever made the trailer park worth it was you. Though, to be fair, the only thing that made a lot of things in this shitty town worth it was you.

You. You, smiling at him from the passenger seat as you sing along to the radio, and you, whispering to him under the stars at midnight, and you, looking at him like you never want to stop.

He would give anything to see you one last time. To make sure you’re alive. Because he can’t be sure—he doesn’t know if his sacrifice is amounting to anything, or if you’re dying, too, just out of sight. Panic clears some of the fog from his brain.

At first, he doesn’t realize he’s speaking, calling out the word, “Please,” until his raw throat protests. Even then, he doesn’t stop, forcing his voice louder, screaming into the twisted ether.

Please, don’t take me away.

He isn’t sure who he’s yelling to, exactly, because he’s never believed in God, and even if he did, God sure as shit can’t hear him down here.

“I don’t want to die,” he says. Tears have mixed with the blood on his face, and his vision blurs red.

What are you willing to give in order to live?

The voice asks, and Eddie isn’t entirely sure it isn’t just some figment of his dying brain.

He shakes his head, letting it thump back against the grass. Above him, the dark red sky doesn’t hold a single star.

What are you willing to give? The voice asks again.

Later, he’ll understand what he’s about to do. But not yet. Not yet.

“Anything,” Eddie croaks. “Anything.”

A tall, hulking silhouette moves through the shadows, but Eddie can’t see their face, or anything, really. All of his senses disappear, and he’s lost in an endless sea of darkness.

Eddie Munson dies. And then, he wakes up.

Eddie Munson is dead.

Three months of telling yourself those words, and they still don’t sound real.

Two months since he was legally declared dead—there wasn’t a body, still isn’t, probably never will be, but in Hawkins, this is no longer a strange occurrence—and three months since you dragged Dustin away from his body, and it still doesn’t feel real.

You’re beginning to doubt it ever will. Maybe it will always be this way. You, looking out your front window every time you pass it and expecting to see his van idling at the curb. You, accidentally ordering his coffee alongside your own enough times that even the barista pities you.

You, still waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.

“But you’ll be there, right? 10 am?” Robin asks, her voice garbled through the phone.

Lounging on your bed, you push up, keeping the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder.

“10 am, on the field. I know. I’m not going to miss my own graduation,” you say.

“Our graduation,” Robin says. “And thank the heavens, because I swear to God, I don’t think I’d have survived another week with Mrs. Burton. If I had to read another sexist, poorly written poem by a long dead man, I was going to spontaneously combust.”

You laugh, but something about the words our graduation sticks to the back of your throat like phlegm. You and Robin’s. It was supposed to be three of you, though.

It’s as if Robin can hear your spiraling thoughts, because she says, gently, “If you want company, I can force Harrington to buy us beer and drive me over.”

You smile. “I’ll live. Besides, there’ll be plenty of beer at all the after parties I’m dragging you to tomorrow night.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Robin quips. “For once, I don’t mind hanging out with these people, considering I’ll never have to see most of them again.”

“One can dream,” you say.

“One can,” Robin says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow.”

You exchange goodbyes with Robin and walk the phone back to the receiver, untangling the twisted cord, and hang it up. Before going back to your bed, you bring two fingers to your lips, then press them to the red electric guitar hanging over your dresser, like you do every night.

It isn’t the guitar he used to draw the very bats that killed him. That guitar was lost with Eddie.

It, along with a few tee shirts, the rings he pulled off his fingers and jammed into your hands before you left him, and a few photos, are all that remain of Eddie Munson.

You’d made a thousand plans together, and even if 99% of them were impossible, the 1% that weren’t still clatter behind you everywhere you go.

I think it’s finally my year.

1986 should have been the beginning of the rest of his life; hopefully, a life alongside you. It should have made high school and the monsters you’d fought an old story.

This, an empty grave, shouldn’t be the end.

The lock on the window in your room has been whining as long as you’ve lived in the house. A few years back, your parents tried to get it replaced, but you’d refused. You couldn’t tell them why, but you weren’t about to get rid of a built-in alarm on that window.

The whining sound pulls you out of sleep and off the mattress in under two seconds. You pull out the sledgehammer you have hidden under the bed before your eyes find the silhouette slipping through the now-open window and into your room.

Of all the nights for someone to break in, it had to be one of the miraculous few you weren’t having a nightmare. At three in the morning, that alone feels worthy of at least a tap with the hammer.

The second the figure hits the middle of your room, you lunge.

The figure ducks the swing, and jerks to the side, face illuminated by moonlight streaming in the window.

A face that can’t possibly be standing in your bedroom.

Eddie Munson. Or his ghost. Or something—

“Jesus Christ, babe, where the hell did you get a sledgehammer? Were you going to hit me with that?” Eddie exclaims, except it can’t be Eddie, because Eddie died in your arms. Because you pried Dustin off Eddie’s body. Because you’ve seen his death in your dreams every night for months.

It can’t be. It isn’t. But someone, or something, is wearing his skin, masquerading as the boy you love, and it’s the last of many, many straws.

You swing the hammer, but faster than your eyes can track, Eddie’s hand moves—you blink, and he’s holding the metal edge in one fist.

The hammer’s head is too heavy to be caught without breaking a finger—but the speed with which he moved is more troubling.

“Who the hell are you?” You snap, wrenching the hammer out of his fist, swinging again. “Get the hell out of my house, now—“

“Hold on, hold on—“ Not-Eddie backs up, hands raised, and with each second that passes, your brain files away the subtle differences. The color of his eyes, that beautiful brown, almost has a red tint in the dark. “It’s me. I swear to God, it’s me.”

“Whatever this sick game is, I’m not playing.” You raise the sledgehammer parallel to the floor and point it at him, using it to push him back toward the window. “Out.”

“Okay, okay, just—just wait.” He jumps to the side just before hitting the window, skating along the wall and darting around you. You whip around, and Eddie is there in a blink, plucking the hammer out of your hands. He tosses it onto your bed and slides into place directly between you and your weapon.

“If I wasn’t me, how would I have known how to open the window?”

Your Eddie could pop the lock in seconds. It was why you always kept it locked, because the only person who might need to get in could.

“Anybody—anything— can jimmy a lock,” you snap.

Maybe it’s your lack of a good night’s sleep in the recent past, or the darkness of the room, but you swear, he almost looks hurt.

“Harsh, but fair.” He takes a breath. “But it really is me.”

“Eddie Munson died three months ago,” you say. “I was there.”

“Yeah, I saw the gravestone. Bet my funeral had a hell of a turnout,” he says.

“Just stop. You’re not him. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not him.”

Eddie seems to chew on his words for a moment. “We met in gym class. You were a junior. I was a senior, the second time. You were hiding behind the long jump mats during the mile run, and I army-crawled my ass over to you so that ancient gym teacher didn’t bust us both. Naturally, he saw me, and the second he yelled, you shoved me out onto the track on my ass.” He grins. “I was pretty much done for, after that.”

You shake your head. “Twenty other people were on the track that day—”

“Fine. Okay.” He huffs a breath. Folds his arms over his chest. “Right, okay, so a few weeks after we started hanging out, I took you to Lover’s Lake. We ate Cheetos and drank warm Coke on the dock, and you told me about that field trip, the one to the museum in middle school. You got lost, ended up in the art exhibit for two hours until a chaperone tracked you down. After that, you couldn’t get enough of all those old—what is it? Abstract paintings.”

Your heart beats like a kick drum, so loud you’re surprised it hasn’t woken the whole house.

Eddie’s gaze darts down—and you don’t remember much of the few anatomy lessons you had, but you’d swear he looks where your heart is.

“This isn’t possible,” you say softly.

Eddie’s lips pull thin. “You kissed me outside that gas station on main because you said you were tired of waiting for me to do it.” A smile softens his expression. “And the first time you told me you loved me, we were in this room, in that bed, but you had to whisper because your parents were downstairs.” He takes a step forward. “And I said it back. Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t whisper either, but you weren’t even pissed. Y’know, I’d only said that to one other person before you, but I didn’t hesitate.“

“No. You can’t be here.” You swallow. Shake your head. Hope is banging its fists against your ribcage, desperate to break out of the prison you locked it in. Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall.

Eddie shrugs. “But I am.”

He takes a step toward you, and when you don’t move away, he takes another. Only when there are no more steps to take does he stop, the rubber of his sneakers kissing the tips of your toes.

He doesn’t move any further, like he’s leaving the last inch up to you.

You hold his gaze. Reach a hand up and let it settle on his cheek.

“Eddie?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning into your hand. “It’s me.”

Just like that, the sob that’s been sitting at the base of your throat for months dislodges, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He still feels like your Eddie, still smells like him beneath that overhanging scent of ash.

The moment he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, you know it’s Eddie. You’ve been in these arms so many times, you fit like puzzle pieces.

“Eddie,” you say again, voice muffled by his hair, and he just holds you tighter, so tight you can barely breathe but you don’t care.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in months, you can breathe.

For ten minutes, everything is like it was. Eddie is all bravado and big smiles, like the last three months never happened, and you let the lie hang because you’ve missed him too badly to pull it back. But it’s more fog than curtain, and it evaporates fast.

Eddie pulls you onto the bed and into his arms, just holding you, and the way your bodies fold together may be the same, but nothing else is.

His skin is cooler, dryer. Covered in scars. His scent, one you can’t describe but know, isn’t totally different, but it’s not the same, either.

And his eyes. He clearly took efforts to keep them out of the light—asking you not to turn a lamp on, keeping his chin ducked—but up close, there’s no mistaking it.

The deep, dark brown is more like a deep red wine someone spilled on a carpet. It’s a beautiful, inhuman shade of red. And you may have seen enough weird shit to fill a museum over the last few years, it sets off every alarm bell inside you. Like an ancient voice is urging you to run while everything else tells you to stay.

Your first observation was right. He isn’t your Eddie. He’s something different. Evolved. And you’re not sure if it’s for better or worse. You’re also not sure if you give a shit.

There are so many questions to ask, but they’d all break the bubble you’re resting in, so you settle for the softest you can think of.

“Tell me what happened to you,” you say gently, keeping your forehead pressed to his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye; that, and because you’re trying to find a heartbeat. You haven’t. “How you survived. I’m not an idiot, Eddie. And I can only pretend I haven’t noticed that your eyes are a different color or that you move faster than you should. That somehow, you’ve been in the Upside Down for three months, and you’re not a decayed corpse.”

Eddie’s hands, steady as they glide up and down your back, your arms, your sides, stall, and his fingers curl slightly into your hoodie.

“You were there,” he says. “You saw it all.”

“Clearly, not everything. You were dead when I left—”

“Almost dead.”

“What?” you stiffen.

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was mostly dead. Kissing Death, straight on the lips, tongue and all. And then…”

“And then?”

He inhales, and says, “And then, I made a deal with the devil. A deal I can’t take back.”

You lean back. You may not have all the pieces, but you have enough to get some understanding at the full picture.

The only devil in the Upside Down is Vecna. And if he brought Eddie back—whatever the definition of back is—he didn’t go it out of the goodness of his heart.

“Eddie, what did you do?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Look, I know you want answers, and I want to give them to you, but I…” He pauses. His hand comes up to your cheek, his cold fingers tracing a line down to your jaw. You shiver. “I’ve spent the last three months waiting for a single minute he wasn’t on my ass, watching me, and I don’t have a lot of time. So, I swear to God, I’ll answer all your questions, but right now, I just want to be here. With you.”

You frown. “You’re not staying.”

Eddie is silent for a long time before he says, “I can’t. Not yet.”

You shift back, sitting up so that only his outline is visible in your periphery. From this angle, blurry and out of focus, he still looks like the Eddie you lost. An Eddie whose biggest problem was whether he’d actually graduate this year.

Eddie sits up beside you, a hand on your arm. He exhales, dropping his chin onto your shoulder. It’s a familiar position, and without thinking, you tip your head against his, temple to temple.

“I’m still a puppet,” he says softly. “Just because he’s not holding my strings right now doesn’t mean he’s not coming back for them.”

You scoff. “If you’re just… some puppet, how are you here now? I mean, am I even talking to the real you right now?”

Eddie stiffens.

“I’m me,” he says. “A lot of the time… I’m more him than me. But right now, right here, I’m me. I’m just Eddie.” He lifts his chin. You crane your head to meet his eyes.

“I spent months waiting for a chance. V—He’s been so weak after everything that went down, he’s been stuck down there. Healing. Even when I came topside to fee—” He stops abruptly. Changes course. “But now…” Eddie pauses. It’s like he’s battling two voices in his head, one telling him to speak, the other urging him silent. “Let’s just say, he’s on a business trip, and I’m supposed to be down there, keeping an eye on things. I only had a few hours.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, like if you keep your voice low enough, the world won’t hear and jinx you.

“I know, angel,” he says. He drops his chin and presses a long kiss to the side of your head. When he pulls back, his expression has shifted, freezing over like Lovers Lake every December. His voice isn’t entirely his own as he says, “But there’s something I need to take care of before I can stay.”

“Something?” you ask. “Or someone?”

Eddie lets out a long sigh. He rolls onto his back, hands coming up behind his head, and the posture, his presence beside you, the tickle of his hair against your shoulder, is somehow familiar and foreign at once.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I want you to stay alive—” He lifts his brows, and you huff, pressing on. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. And you know that it wasn’t some… miracle that brought me back. It was—” He stops. “If he’s still around, I’m not really me. I’m just another one of his weapons.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. No human should be able to hear it. But Eddie does.

“I’m gonna try,” he says.

“And if you can’t?”

Eddie shrugs. He pointedly averts his gaze as he says, “If I can’t, then I go out fighting. Maybe I can get a few decent shots in before he takes me out.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie twists, shifting so he’s half in front of you. He takes your face in his hands and forces your gaze. The angles of his face are sharper, his eyes are clearer. He isn’t the Eddie you lost, but he’s still your Eddie, under it all.

“I’m already on borrowed time, sweetheart. Might as well make it worth something.”

You shake your head. “No. That’s bullshit. We’ll just… we’ll get out of here. Tonight. We can get in my car and drive until we get to a city big enough to disappear in. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You know, I’ve been running since I learned to walk.” His thumb traces a line up and down your jaw. “I never even thought about stopping. Never wanted to.” A sad smile ghosts his lips. “Then, one day, I met you. And I had a reason to stay. So, I’m gonna fight for it. And I’m gonna come back for you.”

Before, Eddie Munson could have won a contest for stubbornness. It appears dying or almost dying didn’t change that.

You take a breath. Close your eyes for a long moment. When you open them, you say, “You better. If you don’t, I’ll kill you. And I’ll make sure it takes this time.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and loops his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. For a long time, you stay that way, holding each other and pretending the seconds aren’t rolling by.

And then, much sooner than you’d like, Eddie peels himself out of your arms. He climbs off the bed, and you follow him back to the window. The latch whines in protest as he lifts the windowpane, like it too is dreading his departure.

He climbs out onto the roof and turns back to the window, his slender hands on the sill. His fingers look naked without their rings.

Your stomach clawing up your throat, you lift the thin chain out from under your shirt, the metal rings hanging from it clacking. You unlatch it and pull off a thick, black ring. Unlike the others, taken off him in the Upside Down, you’ve had this ring for ages. He gave it to you a long, long time ago.

You lift one of his hands, sliding it onto his middle finger. He curls his fingers around yours, squeezing hard.

“Come back to me,” you say.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. “Promise.”

Eddie leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, and the cool touch of his lips disappears. When you open your eyes, he’s gone. Like he was never there at all.

Maybe he wasn’t.

Three weeks pass. By the fourteenth day, you’re halfway convinced you hallucinated Eddie. By the twentieth, you’re sure of it.

Call it your brain trying to process the mountain of grief inside you. Or the end of the slow spiral into madness you started three years ago, when a Demogorgon nearly dragged you through a portal in a tree.

Fantasizing a conversation with your dead boyfriend isn’t exactly the weirdest thing that’s happened. It’s better than the alternative: that Eddie is gone, for real.

And then, on the twenty second night, the latch on your window whines open.

In seconds, you’re up and out of bed, standing in the middle of your room just the way you were a few weeks ago. Staring at a silhouette near the window just the way you were a few weeks ago.

The figure half-covered by shadows is limping, and something dark drips off their hands—what you can see of them is covered in a dark substance that has to be blood.

“I know, I know, I’m an asshole. I don’t write, I don’t call…” A familiar, if not a little rough and raw, voice says, and the massive knot that’s been coiling in your gut for weeks untangles itself in an instant.

“Eddie,” you breathe, as he steps into the moonlight.

“Told you I'd be back,” he says, flashing you a smile between heavy breaths. His canines are wickedly sharp, longer than they should be, and shining with blood. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re really here? I’m not hallucinating?”

A smile twitches across his red lips.

“You’re not hallucinating. I’m here,” he says.

“For good?”

“For good,” he says. His mouth curves up, and his smile appears here to stay.

Like him.

And you don’t care how he got here. What he had to become just to be standing here right now. You don’t care what it might take to keep him here, either.

All that matters is that he’s here. Period.

So, you cross the room in three steps, and pull him into your arms. Blood and all.

taglist: @milkiane @robiin-buckley @copycatkillerfics @robinbuckleyssgf @isshecrazyorissheclever @peanutbutter-y-jams @hellfire1986baby @minksblog @comfortcharactercraze

#brooke writes fic #x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #stranger things #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie

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azurdlywisterious · 2 months

Text

Okay okay, this time giving my fallout ocs tumblrs wont end in disaster! Im sure of it!

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul reblogged big-mt-head

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

Ughhhhhhh my beloved husband really needs to finish up his business meeting its been five hours and i miss him~

🧠 big-mt-head

@.therealprimmshady can you explain this?

⭐️ therealprimmshady

Nope. Nope nope. Go ask whichever doctor of yours calls you shiloh

🧠 big-mt-head

Youre thinking of Dr. Dala. Anyways she says its a sex thing

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

Who let you two past the gate?!

#this is what i get for being horny on main smh

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⏳ start-startover reblogged start-startover

⏳ start-startover

I’m picking the brown m’n’ms out of a candy bowl right now if anyone wants some free m’n��ms

🏃‍♀️ uh-ohthemisery-2

Why are you picking out the brown m’n’ms out of a candy bowl?

⏳ start-startover

Dean doesnt want any

🏃‍♀️ uh-ohthemisery-2

What a diva! Any idea why?

⏳ start-startover

No clue. Ill probably give them to the followers if no one else wants them.

⏳ start-startover

Wait, is that you dalcia?

#didnt u deactivate? #like recently?

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📻 not-another-guy-podcasting reblogged mrrocherwasmyfather

📝 mrrocherwasmyfather asked:

As the person closest to Mr. House, can you tell me what he plans to do with the now empty building that the NCR was occupying before the Battle of Hoover Dam?

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul answered:

I mean, he does have plans but those are trade secrets. Who even are you?

📝 mrrocherwasmyfather

The name’s Ferrero, private investigator. Mr. New Vegas buys his stories off me

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

Oooookay… so youre like a tabloid reporter?

📝 mrrocherwasmyfather

Not since the war, sweetheart. Not since the war.

#ive never heard this guy on my radio #i doubt hes the real deal

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🏃‍♀️ uh-ohthemisery-2

Life sometimes can come at you hard like a .45 bullet. Remember, with enough stimpacks, you can just run past it and live

#totally didnt piss off a specific guy #youll never catch me bitch #yes sir this is vauging #DONT FUCKING TAG HIM

45 notes ⤴️ 🔁 ❤️

🍀 luckiestbastard reblogged mygenderis-c4

💥 mygenderis-c4

Ill be fighting at the thorn tonight at 12 if anyone wants to see me throw down with three giant radscorpions

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

I would love to watch you fight, Henri! Where is the thorn?

💥 mygenderis-c4

Its in westside! :)

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

W-west… side?

💥 mygenderis-c4

Its another low income community outside of new vegas? Like freeside?

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

Theres another poor neighborhood close to new vegas?

💥 mygenderis-c4

Wow.

#Thats why we call her the strip queen #<prev tags

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⏳ start-startover reblogged mrrocherwasmyfather

📝 mrrocherwasmyfather asked:

So, I hear a certain old world singer has resurfaced and you seem pretty close to him. Is there any new music in the works for Dean Domino?

⏳ start-startover answered:

First, Dean was absolutely thrilled to know that reporters are still asking about him (he’s currently taking a break from social media which is why he didnt see your ask to him immediately). At the moment, no. But hopefully he’ll have an album coming out in the future once he’s reestablished his name in the music industry.

📝 mrrocherwasmyfather

Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Vult.

⏳ start-startover

I do have plenty of it, after all.

78 notes ⤴️ 🔁 ❤️

💸 mrhouseownsmysoul

My next editorial photoshoot look will be devoted to whoever started calling me “Strip Queen” because i will be reclaiming that title mwah mwah

#also the Gomorrah Casino is going to be closed for the day tomorrow

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📻 not-another-guy-podcasting reblogged thecoolerscrewdriver

👄 thecoolerscrewdriver

It’s got what plants crave!

📻 not-another-guy-podcasting

It has electrolytes!

#killed another bandit #how long will you be out for?

3 notes ⤴️ 🔁 ❤️

🍀 luckiestbastard

Couldve sworn i went to sleep at the 38 so why did i wake up at the tops???

👄 thecoolerscrewdriver

Nukashine?

🍀 luckiestbastard

What the hell is that?

👄 thecoolerscrewdriver

Bad decisions in a bottle

#it glowey tho

7 notes ⤴️ 🔁 ❤️

🌌 azurdlywisterious

Fuck theres more of them now???

#dashboard simulator #unreality #fallout new vegas #fallout 76 #suzie fromme #dalcia o’deorian #deja vult #henri wesson #harvey wallbanger #sir of big mt #felix barnstar #and introducing #ferrero geneson

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maitaiwiththecorpses · 10 months

Text

(Headcanoned) Spotify Playlists For All The Aru Shah Characters

had a stroke of inspiration while scrolling through @namesarehard123's blog, and armed with (probably expired) lemonade, I had at it.

Plant Stalking Skillz- playlist by spider_shah

Royals by Lorde

All You Had To Do Was Stay- Taylor Swift

Everybody Talks- Neon Trees

There Are Worse Things I Could Do- Grease

Interlude: I'm Not Angry Anymore- Paramore

Adhd- Truslow

Dead Girl Walking- Heathers

All The Single Ladies- Beyonce

Carnaval Del Barrio- In the Heights

Dandelions- Ruth B.

Gorgeous- Taylor Swift

Mr. Brightside- The Killers

History Hates Lovers- Oublaire

The Dumb Song- AJR

U Wished U Were This Emo- playlist by shadowfaxnotprinter

Lover- Taylor Swift

Yellow- Coldplay

Producer Man- Lyn Lapid

Boy Bi- Mad Tsai

Numb Little Bug- Em Beihold

Overwhelmed (Ryan Mack Remix)- Ryan Mack

Mad At Disney- Salem Ilese

Riptide- Vance Joy

Detached- Lyn Lapid

Cruel Summer- Taylor Swift

Until I Found Her (Em Beihold Vers.)- Stephen Sanchez

Dancing With Our Hands Tied- Taylor Swift

Still Into You- Paramore

Romantic Stylz- playlist by prince snekkyboi

Happier Than Ever- Billie Eilish

Come And Get your Love- Redbone

Bad Dream- Stellar

Dancing Queen- ABBA

Kiss Her You Fool- Kids That Fly

Don't Blame Me- Taylor Swift

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go- Wham!

Here Comes The Sun- The Beatles

God, I Hate Shakespear- Something Rotten!

Therapy- Tick, Tick, Boom!

The World's Smallest Violin- AJR

Grace Kelly- MIKA

Freaks- Jordan Clarke

Times Are Hard For Dreamers- Amelie

Denim On Denim- playlist by eat-the-rich-and-good-biryani.

Sweater Weather- The Neighborhood

As It Was- Harry Styles

Gloria- The Lumineers

girls- girl in red

Teenager In Love- Neon Trees

Radio-Friendly Pop Song- Matt Fishel

Line Without A Hook- Ricky Montgomery

Turning Out- AJR

Take Me To Church- Hozier

Space Girl- Fraces Forever

Pink Triangle- Weezer

Jolene- Dolly Parton

Boy In The Bubble- Alec Benjamin

I Will Follow You Into The Dark- Death Cab For Cutie

Tear In My Heart- Twenty-One Pilots

Fuck Me (I Didn't Know How To Say)- Crawlers

Delicate- Taylor Swift

Bathe In Sanitizer, Elmo- playlist by YaKaMeLo

Someone You Like- The Girl and the Dreamcatcher

As The World Caves In- Matt Maltese

Fade To Black- Metallica

Wildest Dreams- Vitamin String Quartet Cover

In Case You Don't Live Forever- Ben Platt

The 30th- Billie Eilish

I Did Something Bad- Taylor Swift

Queen Of Kings- Alessandra

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy- Queen

Enemy- Imagine Dragons

I Write Sins Not Tragedies- Panic! At The Disco

London Boy- Taylor Swift

Brain Damage- Pink Floyd

Hiding In Your Hands- Dear Evan Hansen Bonus Track

Uptown Girl- Billy Joel

The Man- Taylor Swift

Dismantle The Sus- playlist by here?AHHHHHH

Ordinary- Alli Grace

Dress- Taylor Swift

Stairway To Heaven- Led Zepplin

The Takeover, The Break's Over- Fall Out Boy

Wake Me Up When September Ends- Green Day

we fell in love in october- Girl In Red

Material Girl- Madonna

Green, Green Dress- Tick, Tick, Boom!

Warriors- She-Ra And the Princesses Of Power Theme Song

American Idiot- Green Day

You Need To Calm Down- Taylor Swift

Family Line- Conan Gray

We Didn't Start the Fire- Billy Joel and the Fall Out Boy cover

Question...?- Taylor Swift

Devil Doesn't Bargain- Alec Benjamin

Away We Go- Bad Suns

Misery Business- Paramore

pt. 2 coming... eventually. add in the tags any songs that I might have missed

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givemeanaccountalready · 2 months

Note

HELLO MOOTIE im here to ask ur opiniom on 18 and 21 for the milgram asks 😵‍💫 ALSO have a nice day, if not then im sure tomorrow will be. IF STILL NOT then the other day, the other and other and other- okay dont forget to rehydrate urself if u hadn't. thats all thank you!!

Hello, and same to you, my friend~

Don’t mind me, just gonna take advantage of not having a specified character to babble on about as many characters as possible. I’m just a silly gal, a silly goose if you will 🪿

18.) What non-Deco Vocaloid songs do you think suits them?

Jackalope: “Welcome to the Internet” by Bo Burnham. Do I need to explain?

Es: “Saint Bernard” by Lincoln although I thought “Autoheart” by Sailor Song fit them as well (more so Es singing it to Kotoko/us). At this point, the poor kid’s exhausted and straining under the pressure and guilt so I think “Saint Bernard” fits them rather well.

Haruka: Hmmm. This one's tough. I'm gonna have to go with “I’ll Be Good” by Jaymes Young. It’s mournful and pleading and I think if he had been voted guilty in Trial One, his second trial song would have vibes of “I’m bad but I want to be better” instead of “I’ll be bad to be better,” that All-Knowing, All-Agony gives me. As a runner up, "Not While I'm Around," from the Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street musical. I can just picture him singing it.

Yuno: “Bring on the Men” from the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde musical. It’s fun, full of quips and innuendos, and definitely embraces her take on sex work.

Fuuta: “Dance, Dance” by Fall Out Boy. I feel like this fits his vibe.

Muu: “We R Who We R” by Kesha. Love her, hate her, you gotta admit that Muu wants to embody this IDGAF confidence, and I will indulge her with this song (where's the yellow paint can? I liked using it for Muu).

Shidou: “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. It just sounds very mournful and fits his longing to see his loved ones again.

Mahiru: “E.T.” by Katy Perry, specifically the one without Kanye West because it vibes better with her. It's less... let's say Katy Perry is less direct about what she wants from her alien, and I feel like Mahiru could barely spit out an innuendo because of her dedication to her 'good girl' image.

Kazui: I suppose “False Confidence” by Noah Kahan would be a good fit. The emphasis on trying to fake it till you make it and wishing to go back to when you were young and before you began faking your way through life. That said, "The Good in Me" by Jon Bellion was a close second.

Amane: Another tough one. Perhaps "Miss Independent” by Ne-Yo. I had a song on here that didn’t really fit her and then I heard this song on the radio and went, “No, that’s the one.” Something fun and light but still fits her idealized self.

Mikoto: “LA Devotee” by Panic! At the Disco. Like Fuuta, it just fits his vibe. That said, I feel like John is scream-singing "Fight Back" by NEFFEX at him.

Kotoko: “Interlude IV” by Zach Callison. I can only assume this is what her two brain cells discussed during the break between the first and second trials. It’s menacing but fits so well.

21.) Do you have any similarities with them/relate to them?

Hmmm. It'll probably be shorter if I write a paragraph rather than breaking it up by character. I suppose the two I relate the most to would be Es and Yuno, but I relate a startling amount to Shidou, if I’m being honest. Let me explain the Shidou thing first since I know that he is heavily disliked and how I relate to him is dependent on how I view his crime.

My impression of Shidou is that he was a doctor who looked at the forest rather than the trees. At the very least, he pushed for the family members of patients who were brain-dead to take them off life support. I think he also pushed for patients to undergo risky surgeries in hopes that it would treat them when their current treatment failed. Shidou never thought beyond treating the physical ailment, and it wasn’t until his wife and children were in the car accident where he was put in the same position that Shidou fully understood the emotional weight of what he asked his patients and their families to do. With that, he began to suffocate under his own feelings of guilt and inadequacy (because if he couldn’t save his family, what is his worth?), and his push for the death penalty and claims about being irredeemable were his own attempts at trying to die so he can be with his family again. It was only when Kotoko attacked, that his savior complex was revived and he was given purpose again. I fully expect him to try and attack Kotoko (“remove that fang” anyone?) and push for the death penalty again during the third trial. Now, I know you’re thinking, wtf, how can you relate to this man?

Well, for starters, if the people I loved most in this world were violently ripped away from me while I stood helplessly by, I’d blame myself and look for reasons as to why I’m the worst and deserve death. Also, I have a lot of family who are nurses, and stories about dickhead doctors and the realities of illness, injuries, and treatments were common enough dinner conversations that hearing about, reading, and listening to Shidou act like a martyr makes me think, “Yeah, professional hazard,” not “what a scum ball.” To me, Shidou is the equivalent of a pothole in the street. I might startle if I fall into him but in all likelihood, I’ll trip, grumble, and move on. There’s also the part where I think, if I was a worse person, I’d probably be more like Shidou. He reminds me of what I could be if I was more arrogant, more willing to sacrifice in the name of the bigger picture.

But onto happier topics, I like to think I’m able to relate to Es. They have a strong sense of morality, integrity, and responsibility when it comes to their work. I like to think I keep to those three values when faced with an unknown or conflict. It’s admirable how they try to stay true to those values despite Milgram’s mental/physical interference when it comes to Es trying to remember or establish a sense of personhood separate of the organization’s will. With Yuno, I like to think I can read the room, albeit I’m probably on par with Muu, not Yuno when it comes to that. Although, I do understand her frustration with trying to establish agency when others try to limit it, and admire how willing she is to put herself out there to find herself. Actually, now that I write this down, I admire Yuno more than relate to her. I guess I’m Shidou and Es. Sorry y’all.

As a bonus, Jackalope. If I had to pick anything to relate to, I would certainly pick his love of the drama and chaos that goes on in Milgram. I definitely share his amusement for the chaos. As much as I enjoy all the prisoners (including Es in that), with the caveat of some more than others, I get a bit of a kick out of trying to use Jackalope’s taunts and jabs to predict what will happen next. If Es is the audience surrogate, then Jackalope is an author insert. He’s as enjoyable as he is smarmy, and I enjoy a battle of the wits. I’d probably lose against Jackalope in that battle, but hey, I’d lose with a shit-eating grin on my face. Jackalope definitely knows more than he lets on and while I don’t think he’s ever lied outright with how he prefers to dodge questions and give half-answers, he is using that to keep the upper hand and let things unfold. I don’t think I’m sadistic, but he is a fun enemy to face.

#milgram #ask game

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open-your-heart-and-your-eyes · 2 years

Text

BIPOC PEOPLE IN THE ROCK MUSIC INDUSTRY

Post inspired by, and is an extension of this lovely post about POC emo icons by @rpf-bat. If I get anything wrong, please feel free to correct me. I’m going to try to keep the bios relatively short and sweet so I don’t write an entire essay. All my information was found from Google/Spotify search results or my pre-existing knowledge. Feel free to DM me for specific sources. Fair Use for educational purposes, no copywright infringement intended.

Acrassicauda: Iraqi metal band from Baghdad. Andy Capper and Gabi Sifre wrote Heavy Metal in Baghdad: The Story of Acrassicauda about the band’s formation and their fight to be able to play the music they love.

Booboo Stewart (Vic Lakota from The Relentless in Paradise City and American Satan, Seth Clearwater from The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, Jay from Disney’s Descendants, among many others): Blackfoot, Korean, Chinese, and Japanese.

Tom Morello (Rage Against The Machine, Audioslave, The Nightwatchman): biracial- Kenyan and white (quick side note: Morello has a bachelor’s degree in political science from Harvard, which I thought was really cool).

The HU: Mongolian metal band. They’ve worked with the likes of Jacoby Shaddix of Papa Roach (The Wolf’s Totem), Lzzy Hale of Halestorm (Song of Women), and Danny Case of From Ashes to New (Yuve Yuve Yu).

Jose “The Metal Ambassador” Mangin (radio personality/host and interviewer, Sirius XM): Mexican-American. Is often hosting on Sirius XM Octane and Liquid Metal.

Meet Me @ The Altar: Pop punk trio made up entirely of BIPOC musicians Edith Johnson (Black), Téa Campbell (Black), and Ada Juarez (Latinx). Three of their popular songs are Hit Like a Girl, Feel a Thing, and Garden.

Nandi Bushell: Zulu and white. The twelve year-old drummer has collaborated with Roman Morello, Tom Morello, Jack Black, and Greta Thunberg on Roman’s song The Children Will Rise Up! She has also played with the likes of Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters, Roger Taylor of Queen, Ringo Starr of The Beatles, and Matt Helders of The Arctic Monkeys (and likely more that I’m missing).

Joe Hahn (Linkin Park, Mr. Hahn): Korean-American. The man behind the band’s turntables and keyboard. Linkin Park’s Cure for The Itch on their album Hybrid Theory (2000) specifically highlights Hahn on the turntables within the first minute.

Ayron Jones: African-American. Jones is gaining traction in the scene. Two songs of his I’d like to note are Spinning Circles and Mercy from his 2021 album Child of the State. He has toured with the likes of Shinedown (and makes a hilarious feature in one of the band’s Tiktoks) and will tour with The Pretty Reckless and Black Stone Cherry this year.

BIPOC ICONS

Chuck Berry (The Chuck Berry Trio, Sir John’s Trio) Black. Widely successful, influential singer and guitarist known for Johnny B. Goode, You Can Never Tell, and No Particular Place To Go. Berry’s legacy is still deeply felt in his contemporaries today.

Prince (Prince and The Revolution, “The Artist Formerly Known as Prince,” 3rdeyegirl, Madhouse, 94 East, The Family) Black. Groundbreaking, inventive, and androgynous artist known for hits like When Doves Cry and Purple Rain. Prince has also written songs for others like Sinead O’Connor (Nothing Compares 2 U) and The Bangles (Manic Monday).

Jimi Hendrix (The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Band of Gypsys, Kings of Rhythm, Jimmy James and The Blue Frames): Black and Cherokee. Acknowledged by many to be one of the greatest (if not the greatest) guitarists of all time.

Slash (Guns N’ Roses, Velvet Revolver, Spinal Tap, Road Crew, and entirely too many others to list): biracial- Nigerian and white. He’s the guitarist for Guns N Roses, whose hits include (but are not limited to) Welcome to The Jungle and Sweet Child O’ Mine. He joined his bandmates of Guns N’ Roses Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum in the early 2000s to form Velvet Revolver, recruiting Scott Weiland of Stone Temple Pilots for vocals. He continues to release music, especially with Myles Kennedy of Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators and Alter Bridge (see Driving Rain).

Robert Trujilo (Metallica, Suicidal Tendencies, Mass Mental, Infectious Grooves): Mexican and unspecified Native American descent. Trujilo replaced Jason Newsted as guitarist for Metallica, starting as a full time recording member with St. Anger (2003).

Carlos Santana (Santana): Mexican-born Latinx. A legendary guitarist, Santana’s song Smooth featuring Matchbox Twenty’s Rob Thomas is still an incredibly popular hit to this day. A prolific part of the song is Santana’s guitar work at the beginning of and throughout the song. The riff is considered to rather iconic to rock music as a genre.

Freddie Mercury (Queen): Indian Parsi, born in Zanzibar. Mercury is also considered to be an LGBTQIA+ icon by many. He was a groundbreaking and charismatic performer (not to mention his prolific appearance and fashion). His absolute powerhouse of a voice behind Queen’s innumerable hits like Bohemian Rhapsody, We Will Rock You, and We Are The Champions earned Mercury a deity-like status in both the music industry and pop culture as a whole. He continues to influence and inspire many in the decades since his death.

To all my BIPOC beauties/handsome people:

You exist in this industry. You belong. Do not let anyone in this scene erase or invalidate you.

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anonwitharacket · 3 months

Text

Oh, hello. Have some theme songs and a masterlist, I guess.

youtube

Where do snails go during the day?

They’re probably somewhere playing video games

I’m sad they feel the need to go away

Go away

Where’s the chapel where the mantis pray?

The leaves grow green then fall away

In reddish shades that crumple under six long legs

Leading me along, the children sing a song

And I’d like to turn around

But I know I’m not that strong

I’m missing a house

That I’ve never called home

I’m missing a time that I’ve never known

I remember a tree, had a whole leaf of my own

But now we’re reaching spring

Was it just a dream? I don’t know

Oh, hello.

My name? You can call me whatever suits your fancy, I don't quite mind.

My tags are: #💥🎾 anon

They warn of snakes in search of prey

The stories scare me so I stay

At the chapel where the mantis pray

And every day

They lead me along

The children hum a hymn

And I’d like to run away

But to leave would be a sin

I’m missing a house

That I’ve never called home

I’m missing a time that I’ve never known

I remember a song, I sung along

But how did it go?

Well, now I’m reaching spring

Probably just a dream

I should let go

{Other Blogs In A/V2 verse}

(Dad), [Mr. Vox]: @flatfuckfridays

(Fashion-Aunt), Miss Velvette: @red-velvette-swirl

(Funcle), Mr. Valentino: @moth-pimp-val

The Radio Demon, Mr. Alastor: @cannibals-and-radio

King Of Hell, Mr. Lucifer: @thebigbossofhellhimself

{Siblings Siblings Siblings SIBLINGS!!!}

Bubs!!: @bubble-anon-responds

@snekanondoesdumbshit

@dinonuggiesanon

@full-time-cat-an0n

@crymeafrozenriver

@the-horrors-u-make-out-with

@metioanon

@an-asexual-dragonair

@ittybittyworm

@purplecrownanon

Six legs, tippy tappy toes

Climbing to the podium on Sunday

I was a tadpole at the time

So I don’t remember much

About what he had to say

Faces, beady little eyes

Larva always cries

Beetle does the same

Now it remains a dream

A distant memory that itches my brain

Six legs, tippy tappy toes

Climbing to the podium on Sunday

I was a bunny (I was a kitten) at the time

So I don’t remember much

About what he had to say

Faces, beady little eyes

Larva always cries

Beetle does the same

Now it remains a dream

A distant memory that itches my brain

Now it remains a dream

A distant memory that itches my brain

Now it is just a dream

A distant memory that itches my brain

#Youtube

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meltingpenguins · 7 months

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hi, maybe its time to step back and take a breath. its ok if u hate good omens! its ur opinion and ur free to do whatever with it! but u cant control whether gaiman wrote another season, or whether other people like it or make art of it. maybe its time to just filter and block good omens tag and move on with ur life. there are still so many other art and stuff for u to discover, and u might find something u actually like!

This will be a long answer:

I don't hate Good Omens. I *love* Good Omens. The book is a constant source of joy and inspiration.

The radio play was a bit weird to me, but it's nevertheless immensely enjoyable.

I can't say anything about the graphic novel yet, but so far it looks good and solid. The only criticism for that I can give so far is that imo it's a little disappointing we got Crowley and Aziraphale in human-shapes in Eden again, when a drawn medium opened up a lot of possibilities for going wild with 'biblically accurate angel' and giant demonic snake. it's a case of YMMV.

No, I love Good Omens. What I hate is that show on amazon with the same name, because that is not Good Omens. Sure, the names are the same and Neil Gaiman is writing the script, but it still is not Good Omens. Because the core of it is missing, the heart.

That is what's making me so angry.

Of course, when you adapt any given story from page to a different medium, there will be changes. Take a moment very early on in the radioplay, when they gave Hastur a mobile phone so he could call up Crowley, leading to Crowley expositioning about the M25. Is it a little clunky? Sure, but for the medium it works.

The show, however, seems to make changes that make no sense for the story or medium.

Now, I give you this: It is unfair of me to lash out at Mr Gaiman like this, for which I apologise. I do not know what made him make these changes. It could, of course and in the worst case, be ignorance and malice. But malicious demands from amazon (after all, the book is very, very, very anti-establishment, if you want, and book!Crowley has no love for people like bezos) could very well be the reason just like being simply at a loss and throwing in whatever's deemed 'will make fans happy'.

We don't know. So, for the lashing out, I do apologize.

But for the criticism, that stands. Because the show is going in directions that are very much the polar opposite of the book.

The book is about humanity, about choice, and how we ALL matter. How there are no chosen ones, how we all have a part in shaping history. Names that go down in history do so because of the actions of many, not because they were predestined to do so.

Which is an amazing, refreshing and, most importantly, hopeful message, that's especially these days needed more than ever it would seem. Look around, how many people think that their actions don't matter because of, amongst others, people like bezos.

But look what the WGA strike accomplished. It was the actions of many, not just those at the picket line, but the support from fans, from all around the world.

But the show? The show is the opposite. Not only does it constantly demean the working class (Crowley likening Lucifer's rebellion to workers' unions so thinly veiled it's fishnet, or now the whole declaring demons (who in the book were akin to the working class while Heaven was posh upper class, and the book very much sided with the working class) especially too dumb to deserve to live (this very much reeks of meddling from amazon, unless Mr Gaiman really is that much of a pretentious, aloof asshole and it's been done on purpose... and seeing how he talks 'bout demons now...)) it also makes Crowley out to be the chosen one type who cannot do wrong. Even when this Crowley messes up, it's always exactly the right thing. Because Crowley did it. With Aziraphale it's the opposite. He can't do right. He has been reduced down to the bumbling, dim sidekick with a crush on the amazing genius chosen one (sound familiar?)

Why? There is nothing in the medium that would have required these changes.

But it gets worse. Both seasons, I give you that, have their good ideas:

Having Crowley and Az return to the bookshop after the birthday party, showing the two throughout history, Muriel, expanding the denizens of Heaven and Hell, yes, those are great ideas. But they are all not used as well as they could.

It's just baffling. The whole show has this bizarre vibe of hating the fans. As if we are (like demons) too dumb to deserve to live. It's what I ramble about. When the show's cinematography decides to frame scenes so supposed eastereggs cannot be missed, when the pacing is off and the editing makes little sense.

What I can give you (and Mr Gaiman) and will do so, is that the script-book for s1 (never checked if there's one for s2) is doing much better. The pacing is more even, the characters are better fleshed out, the flow of the story makes a lot more sense. So what happened?

As said initially, it might be a lot of things, none of them good.

And then we get crass changes to personality and all with characters like beelzebub and the explanation isn't just flimsy, it's frightening. Beelzebub has been stepford-wifed. Suddenly, supposedly by 'the power of love' they're submissive, cozy-wozy, caring, etc.

Love doesn't do that. people don't do a complete 180 just cause they're 'in love' especially when there's been almost no common ground

Beelzebub and Gabriel had their position in their respective companies, and an air of 'wanting to bite people's heads off', but what we have on the show now is nothing that builds up on that. It's really just catering to the fans that were the loudest. The people that are now so eager pairing off demons and angels to 'fix' demons.

Which is simply frightening. Especially looking at how they justify it, what they declare romantic in a distinct 'this is romantic in fiction AND IRL' way.

And then there's everything else of s2: Nothing. There's no plot, there's actions to pad out 5 3/4 episodes, but everything feels very 'throw everything and the kitchen sink at the wall, but don't wait what sticks'. Which, yes, could absolutely be amazon's fault again.

It really feels as if the whole season was only there to have the '6-6-8' pattern in the end.

And it makes me angry.

It's great that the WGA won with flying colours, but no matter what you, anon, or I may think about what s3 might bring, you have to admit that what we have right now isn't much of a solid foundation, even if there can now be proper rewrites, more input (so better sounding boards etc)

It makes me sad, it makes me furious, because it is such a great book, and I'm one of those people I want to understand why things happen.

Anon, you can message me again if you want to talk further (this goes for everyone), but to conclude:

I love Good Omens the book, I'd LOVE to see it adapted to screen proper, I love the creativity of the fandom, but so much of that is now found outside of the the show fans. Which... shouldn't be. We were a weird and creative bunch, even after s1. People began looking into mythology and history to produce amazing works, but now? Now it feels as if people and show try to snuff out every glimmer of creativity, any given bit that isn't 100% the shows canon. When the show itself can't even stick to continuity.

So, as said, you want to talk, my ask box is open. If not, as snarky as this may sound, I'd say practice what you preach and simply block the 'good omens critical' tag, that's what I tag my rambling for.

In any case, stay safe, stay healthy, don't lick the walls (see, told you there's stuff I like)

PS: I do my own stuff, both fanfic and original wise, don't worry.

#good omens #good omens critical

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chrancecriber · 1 year

Text

Radio SunLounge Romania (March 22, 2023)

23:58 Pianochocolate - Morning Coffee 23:52 Eguana - Way To The House 23:46 Sweet Velvet - In My Dreams 23:46 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 23:40 Florzinho - Vem Conmigo (Euphonic Traveller Remix) 23:35 Shakes Seven - This Time 23:29 Dot Vegan - In Good Time 23:23 Esonic - Mellow Swing 23:19 Bevasso - A Night Like This (The Cure) 23:14 Roger Sanchez - Another Chance 23:10 Johannes Huppertz - Short Message Service 23:08 The Dining Rooms - Dreamy Smiles (Radio Version) 23:02 Re - Lounge - No Ordinary Love (Stephen Floyd Rework) 22:56 Jp - Juice - Cette Planete (Sushi Club Remix) 22:51 Mez - Fuck'n Jazz 22:48 Fancy Vienna - I'll Follow 22:44 Stephen Emmer - Under Your Spell Ft. Chaka Khan (Moods Remix) 22:39 Dave Jerome - The Future Is Love (Original Mix) 22:33 Hessismore - Yes Boss 22:28 Steen Thottrup - Heading For The Sunrise 22:27 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 22:22 Florian Fai - Rooftop Martini (Original Mix) 22:18 Loop Fruit Split - Rain Reason 22:14 Tycho - Into The Woods 22:11 Mozart - Burdened No More 22:10 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 22:03 Van - Life Journey 21:57 Briza - Reflections On The Highway 21:52 Messiah Project - Sadeness 21:46 Purple Avenue - Justify My Love 21:41 Heiko - Miles Away 21:33 Dimitris Manasidis - Love You For Life - Bobby Deep Sunset Mix 21:28 Lisa Shaw - I'm Ok 21:25 Deephouse 84 - A Night On The Beach 21:20 Sunyata Project - Inner Lights (Feat. Miyabi) 21:16 Bliss - Positive Reaction 21:11 Newton - New Beautiful Life 21:05 Marga Sol - Buddhanima 21:05 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 21:01 Amaraldo - Keep On 20:57 Jazzamor - Lovin' You 20:52 Pier-o Feat. Marga Sol - Air Of Love (Original Mix) 20:47 Roberto Sol & Florito - Love Finds You Feat. Martine (Original Mix) 20:42 Lazy Grooves - Walk With Me 20:36 Man In A Room - The Confidential 20:28 Eguana - Long Trip To Nowhere 20:23 Maskara - Feel The Nature (Original Mix) 20:19 The Nightfly - Hope And Glory 20:12 Christa Vi - Small Way Through (Cosmonaut Grechko Version) 20:06 Cafe Americaine - Infrajam (Loungebar Mix) 20:01 Aromabar - Simple Life 20:01 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 19:58 Emilie Simon - Desert 19:54 Miss B.t - Right Now (Sweet Lovin-' Edit) 19:49 Cafe Americaine - L Amour 19:43 Climatic - Left 19:39 Paul Hardcastle - Chillstep Echoes (Feat. Maxine Hardcastle) 19:34 Katun - Shout (Feat. Nattie) 19:32 Goson - Stop 19:26 Sunset Session Group - Soulsalicious 19:20 Placid Larry - Dew Drops 19:16 Amelie - Softwood 19:12 Living Room - Golden Ride 19:07 Beach Hoppers - Keep Dreaming (Eskadet Moonlight Version) 19:04 Kirsty Hawkshaw Mts. Tenisia - Reason To Forgive 19:00 Mr Vaud - Digital Inspiration 18:57 Hot City Walk (Original Mix) - Lasteden 18:53 Luke - Heaven-'s On Fire 18:47 Club Des Belugas - Phantastic Philadelphia 18:43 Pluto Project - Erophone 18:39 Cam - Romantic Love 18:34 Mandalay - It's Enough Now 18:34 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 18:30 Velvet Lounge Project - How Far, How Long 18:26 The Frost - Volna (Original Mix) 18:20 Double Wave - Psychedelic 18:16 Jakatta - It Will Be 18:15 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 18:11 Chillbirds - Breaking Out 18:06 Mirage Of Deep - More Than I Can Bear 18:02 Fused - Twisted (Reprise) 17:59 Aiemo - Dreaming Eyes (Vocal Mix) 17:59 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 17:54 Vargo - Speak To Me 17:48 Chicane - Looking Down (Drax & Goodings Room With A View Remix) 17:42 Christos Fourkis - Butterflies Everywhere (Original Mix) 17:35 Climatic - Hazy Days 17:30 Atb - Some Things Just Are The Way They Are 17:25 Cocogroove - Martini Royale (Kiss Me James Mix) 17:20 From P60 - You Take Me 17:14 D. Batistatos - Late Hours 17:09 Maritime (Caribic Flow Mix) - Cafe Americaine 17:04 Merge Of Equals - Clear Blue Sky 16:57 Dos Buratinos - Control U Inbox (Take Control Remix) 16:53 Basti M, Brockman Feat. Nic - Live Your Life (Free Your Mind) (Brockman & Basti M Sunset Mix) 16:48 Mind Into Mind - Ready To Fly (Instrumental) 16:43 Charly Mclion - Beachday 16:39 Living Room - Karma Ocean 16:35 Ganga, Sophie Tusnelda - Golden Lightfalls 16:29 Gold Lounge - Promised Land 16:24 Monique Bon - La Musique 16:19 Eddie Silverton - Coincidences 16:14 Sundance Girl - Open Your Arms (Falling To Pieces Mix) 16:10 Alien Cafe - Paris Depression 16:05 Beach Hoppers - Bit By Bit 15:58 Fresh Moods - Cocomilk 15:55 Marc Hartman - Goodvibes (Song For Thom & Susanne) 15:51 Mystic Diversions - Float On 15:46 Messiah Project - Sadeness 15:41 Idenline - Call Me (Original Mix) 15:36 Man In A Room - Night Mail (Feat. Civilian) 15:31 Wonderphazz - Memories (Chill Guide Mix) 15:25 Lazy Hammock - Tomorrow Is A New Day (Original Mix) 15:20 S.w. - Humans And Gods 15:13 Lemongrass - What You Believe 15:08 Chillwalker - A Dream Comes True (Red Horizon Mix) 15:03 Middle - Warm Sunset 15:00 Trillian Miles - Swamp Girl 14:58 Keanurhodes - Good Morning 14:53 Soundlift - Savage Islands (Original Mix) 14:47 Sunyata Project - Pi Lo Chun (Extended Mix) 14:41 Planet Funk - Under The Rain 14:37 Aloha Cafe - Night In Altamy 14:32 Puch - Playground 14:27 Phontaine - Node 14:22 Cocogroove - Puerto Azul (Blue Waves Mix) 14:17 Sofa Groovers - I Feel Love 14:14 Paul Hardcastle - Dancing Galaxies 14:09 Thievery Corporation - Web Of Deception 14:04 Sphere - Dreamer 13:59 Oscar Salguero - With You 13:55 Thievery Corporation - Free 13:51 Eduardo Arroya - Ring ...hello (Close Your Eyes) 13:46 Hacienda - Data Love 13:41 Gush Ibizen - Plans With You (Ibiza Guitar Girl Mix) 13:38 Mozambo - Hurt & Soul 13:34 Califonia Girl - Can See The Light (Beachside Mix) 13:29 Triangle Sun - Secret Desire 13:22 Miguel Migs - The Night (Rk's Vocal Mix) 13:22 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 13:17 Dj Rico Bonetti - Chill Solution 13:12 Papercut - End Of A Love Affair 13:08 Lemongrass - Frozen Boy 13:02 Future Loop Foundation - I Love Her More (Part 3) 12:56 Mariella Narvaez - All Night 12:51 Andreya Triana - Lost Where I Belong 12:47 El Petit Jardi - Clic Du Mer (Original Mix) 12:43 Ohm G - Island Dreams 12:35 Djibooti - Shadows And Voices (Tom Tom Mix) 12:29 Lazy Hammock - Summer Chill 12:23 Purple Avenue - Love & Sex & Magic 12:20 Electus - Pandora 12:16 Sky Sergeant - Hawaii Island Hoppers (Beachwave Cruiser Mix) 12:11 Asheni - Butterfly (Original Mix) 12:05 Trumpet Thing - The Kiss 12:03 Phlocalyst, Mr. Käfer - Luminous 11:59 Nor Elle Feat. Bella Wagner - Love True Dimension 11:54 Slackwax - Midnight 11:51 Minus Blue - Too Far To Speak (Original Mix) 11:47 Nasser Shibani - Time Chase (Original Mix) 11:42 Moca - Kleine Traumerei 11:35 Orange Music - Leave It All Behind (Vocal Mix) Feat. Mirjam 11:28 Twentyeight - Monday Night 11:23 Don Gorda Project - Cielo Terso 11:18 Cocogroove - Lagoon No. 7 (Guitar Mix) 11:13 Urban Phunk Society - Changing Spaces 11:08 York, Asheni - Mercury Rising (Chillout Mix) 11:04 Donna De Lory - The Unchanging (Atom Smith Chill Yoga Flow Remix) 11:00 Beanfield - Chosen (Feat. Ernesto) 10:55 Afterlife - Still 10:50 Merge Of Equals - Trees On The Moon 10:46 Hooverphonic - Mad About You (Llorca's Radio Shot) 10:40 Mind Conventions - Sweet Fever 10:36 Blank & Jones - Pure Shores 10:32 Atb - Break My Heart 10:26 York - Iceflowers 10:25 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 10:20 Cupsurfer - Finishing The Boat 10:17 Samsara Inc. - Endless Autumn 10:11 Vincent Vegas - Via Del Sol (Canyamel Mix) 10:05 Steen Thottrup, Denver Knoesen - Balearic Bliss 09:59 Koop - Relaxin' At Club F****n (Dorfmeister Vs. Madrid De Los Austrias) 09:56 Pnfa - Second Sunrise (Original Mix) 09:52 Weathertunes - Feel You (Original Mix) 09:48 Marga Sol - So Cruel 09:47 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 09:43 Guardner - Distant Link 09:38 Plastyc Buddha - Rhodes Royce 09:34 Atb Feat. Jansoon - Be Like You 09:28 Takt 3 - Slow Walker 09:28 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 09:25 Malia Feat. Erik Truffaz - Yellow Daffodils 09:19 D. Batistatos - Jet Lagged Nights 09:14 Tetris - Mystery 09:07 The Man Behind C. - Como Aire Cristalino (Latin Mix) 09:01 The Man Behind C. - What Can U Do 08:58 Castlebed - Lonely Ghost (Original Mix) 08:52 Neve - Supernatural (Ambient Mix) 08:47 Vargo - Goodbye Is A New Beginning 08:42 Amelie - Softwood 08:38 Madelin Zero - Anything Perfect 08:34 Soundset City - Come With Me (Deep Lounge Cut) 08:30 Vibrasphere Feat. K. Linder - Tierra Azul 08:24 Enrico Donner - Forget Me Not 08:18 Kieser Velten - Together 08:16 Dj Phixion - Hideout 08:12 Guenter Haas - First Floor Lobby 08:07 Jane Low - Night Theme (Original Mix) 08:02 Gary B - My Love 07:58 Eliane Elias - Running 07:55 Ross Couch - Music Is My Life 07:55 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 07:51 Worldbeat Feat. Miyabi - Sakura (Original Mix) 07:45 Jens Buchert - Dominion 07:41 Therr Maitz - Found U (Riesso Remix) 07:38 Kiwi Twist - Jazz Lady 07:34 Michael E - Don't Stop 07:28 Simon Bareilles - The Sound Of Silence - Guitar Lounge Mix 07:23 Chris Le Blanc, Pat Lawson - Beyond The Sunsets (Ibiza Late Night Mix) 07:18 Bessie Boni - Mystic Revelation (Feat. Gianna Partner) 07:14 Paolo - Turn Me On 07:09 Gushi & Raffunk - Sound Of You (Beat Ambasada Remix) 07:04 Stefan Reh, Kara - Unknown 06:59 Spinne - Saxophonecheck 06:54 Goloka - Compromise 06:50 Index - Noon Hour Blues 06:45 Pnfa - Temple Monkey 06:38 Sweet Velvet - La Plena Noche 06:35 Dj Antoine - I-'ll Never Let You Down (Soft Mix) 06:30 Velvet Dreamer - Footprints In The Sand 06:24 Cream Soda - Woman 06:20 The Diventa Project - Impossible Dream (Ibiza Chillout Mix) 06:19 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 06:15 Cantoma - Clear Coast (Feat. Brenda Ray) 06:11 Basti M, Brockman Feat. Nic - Live Your Life (Free Your Mind) (Brockman & Basti M Sunset Mix) 06:04 Cary August, Computer World - Tour De France (St. Tropez Chill) 06:00 El Rubello - And I Love Her 05:54 Jane Maximova - Morning Bird (Feat. Dmirty Raschepkin) 05:50 Monodeluxe - Steel Vibes (Original Mix) 05:45 Gabrielle Chiararo - Million Stars 05:41 Peter Pearson - A Walk In The Park 05:41 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 05:36 Groove Thievery - Killer (Bargrooves Mix) 05:33 Dreamhunter - Good Morning 05:28 Norman Doray - Chase The Sun (Musica Feliz Ibiza Beat Remix) 05:22 Krystian Shek - Samarkand (Feat. Nina Ramsby) 05:18 Dj Tiesto - The Tube (Domenico Cascarino & Luca Lombardi Acoustic Mix) 05:12 S.w. - Terokh Jeruth 05:07 Alien Cafe - Sacred Mountain 05:02 Groove Armada - Remember 04:57 Conjure One - Sleep 04:52 Everything But The Girl - Single (Brad Wood Memphis Remix) 04:48 Florence Di Milano - In A Silent Way (Original Mix) 04:45 Lasteden - Hot City Walk (Original Mix) 04:45 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 04:41 Liquid Motion - Silent Running 04:37 Weathertunes - Take Me Away 04:32 Sky Sergeant - Orion Trail (Eclipse Mix) (Eclipse Mix) 04:27 Jazzamor - Lullaby (Original Mix) 04:21 Lea Perry - Dubby Sunset Sky At Cafe Del Mar (Ibiza Beach Mix) 04:18 Beach Hoppers - Top Of The World 04:13 Jens Buchert - Fluffy Time 04:10 Marga Sol - Cafe Del Amor 04:04 Vargo - Speak To Me 03:56 Icehouse - Don-'t Believe Anymore (Ivan & Collins Cafe Latte Mix) 03:51 Dublex Inc. Feat. Alice Russel - Don't Make Me Want You 03:47 Florence - You Should Never Know - Baiha Del Mar Mix 03:43 Dab - You & Me 03:39 Florzinho, Euphonic Traveller - Staring At The Stars (Feat. Barbara Yaa Boahene) 03:35 Leo De La Rosa - Te Pienso (Marga Sol Balearic Remix) 03:29 Michael E - Rainy Thursday 03:24 Eskadet - La Repara 03:19 Santerna Feat. Vadim Kapustin - Feeling Like A River (Chillout Mix) 03:15 Tycho - No Stress (Feat. Saint Sinner) 03:10 Fourkis, Christos - If You Love Me 03:06 Marcel - Backseat Blues 03:02 Crystal Theory - Breathe 02:57 Castlebed - Groove Sense 02:52 Luisito Quintero - Our Love 02:48 Ikon - No Reason To Stay 02:42 Koru - Closer 02:37 Sangar - Love Again (Original Mix) 02:33 Frameworks - Breaks My Heart Ft. Kathrin Deboer 02:26 Aaron The Baron Feat Markus Puhl - A Tu Lado 02:20 Don Gorda Project - Serenidad 02:14 Random Rab - Rain On The World 02:08 Jazzy James Jr. - Twilight Trumpet (Open Doors Mix) 02:03 Area Code 51 - Chanchamayo 01:58 351 Lake Shore Drive - Ocean Blue 01:54 Weekend Players - Angel 01:50 Sunburn In Cyprus - Passage Of Time (Original Mix) 01:47 Anthony Hicks - I Don-'t Know 01:42 Audio Lotion - Eclipse 01:36 Darshan - Listen 01:33 Marga Sol - Imagine Me 01:33 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 01:28 Shakes Seven - Castles In The Sky 01:23 Jazzamor - Tonight 01:17 Steen Thottrup - If You Were Here Tonight 01:11 Honeyroot - Sunrise Sunset 01:08 Gary B - Song For Kaye 01:04 Luis Hermandez - Celebrate (Original Mix) 00:59 Florzinho - Maha - Amba 00:52 Amanaska - Tide (Electro Remix) 00:47 Paco Versailles - Two Feathers 00:42 Afterlife - Falling 00:38 Coolcomotion & Newton - Corazon (Black Diagram) 00:34 Stereomass - Modern Journey To Hawaii (Original Mix) 00:27 Man In The Moon Feat. Debora Vilchez - Another Way 00:23 Michael E - Dont Stop 00:20 Mahl-a - Scent Of You 00:16 Axel B - Dark Lights 00:16 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 00:10 Vinito - Cloud Cruise 00:06 Fous De La Mer - Time To Wake Up (Volver A Despertar) 00:01 Pier-O - Fermer Les Yeux

#Radio SunLounge Romania #Chillout #Lounge #Downtempo #Ambient #Trance #2023 #March 2023

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