#it was about this guy rocker/metal guy

[userparamore]

do you guys have like lost media but it’s just lost in your memories? like you heard a song or watched a movie and remember only a glimpse of it but not what it’s called?

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 8

Hey, guys! The plot is plotting and coming along. I've just had a rough week last week and really didn't get too far on any of my works but the omegaverse sequel. So I'm chomping through my backlog (which is a good thing, I promise, that's what it's for).

In this Steve has to deal with the not fun side of the music business, but Eddie is there to soothe the way.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

****

Steve chewed on his nail as he looked over the contract for the tour they were going to be headlining for Corroded Coffin. It came with their usual anonymity clause.

The part Steve wasn’t sure about was the part where the guys and his roles on the tour to hide that they were part of the band.

Spence being a medic made sense. He was medically trained as an EMT and kept up on his certification even after they made it big.

Simon’s made sense too. Eddie had seen him as a roadie that night, so him continuing that was fine.

It was Shane and Steve’s that concerned him. He didn’t want to PA for The Fallen because then Dustin and his friends would want things like backstage passes and VIP tickets.

Things Steve didn’t want to do because that would get them too close to the action and he worried they would notice that they wouldn’t see Abbadon and him in the same place and put two and two together.

Shane’s role was that of an advance person. Someone that rode into town first to make sure everything was as it supposed to be according to their rider.

Steve loved Shane with all his heart, but he couldn’t think of a worse “job” for him.

Plus it wouldn’t make sense because he wouldn’t be on the same bus as the rest of the band.

He called up Robin.

“Hello!” she chirped her greeting. “What’s up?”

“I’m looking over the contract and they want me to PA and Shane to advance.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two before Robin said, “I’m on it. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Celeste,” Steve teased.

He was not surprised when she just hung up on him. He chuckled.

His best friend was working on getting Shane and him in the right roles. On their last tour, Shane and Simon had been roadies and Steve had been an assistant like Robin.

Steve looked back at the contract with a sigh. He set it aside and pulled out his notebook. He couldn’t write lyrics or music, but he could write down his thoughts and feelings.

He wrote about the fear of being discovered, of showing his true self. What people would think of him and his friends. Everyone said that metal fans were among the most welcoming in the industry.

Unless you looked like someone they didn’t approve of. Steve couldn’t remember which 1980s rocker it was, but the dude was papped outside a store waiting for his wife in cargo shorts and Birkenstocks and the internet had a fucking field day.

Like how dare he go to the store not dressed all in black and leather and chains everywhere.

It was no doubt the biggest reason no one had cottoned on to him and his friends being The Fallen. Because why would four preppy guys be the members of the hottest rising metal band right now?

He flipped to a different page and began writing about finding love where you left it. Eddie had always had Steve’s heart, ever since they were thrown together when a freak earthquake that was caused by nearby fracking destroyed almost half the town they grew up in.

Eddie ran the local DND club which Dustin and his friends had been a part of.

Steve had managed to keep all of them safe and Eddie, who had been unsure of the former jock had warmed up to him by the time they had come through at the end of the week long ordeal.

Steve had fallen in love with Eddie’s sense of humor, his dimpled smile, and doe brown eyes.

So he wrote about that too.

By the time Robin had called back he had written so much his hand was cramping.

“Hello, hello!” he greeted warmly.

“Hey,” Robin said. “So I talked it over with their lawyers and ours and I think we’ve go the solution.”

“Hit me with it,” Steve said.

“Right so we have Shane assisting with me,” she said. “He doesn’t have anyone really close to him who would ask for favors and shit, or at least not ones he wouldn’t gleefully tell to fuck off.”

Steve sighed in relief. “That’s good.”

“You were a little trickier,” Robin admitted. “But then I remembered you picked up a couple of CPR certifications in the past and got them to make you medic too. You just have to take the refresher courses while we’re in the studio.”

Steve chewed on his thumb. He had wanted to be an EMT before he met Spence and saw how much it took out of him.

“Wouldn’t it look bad if two medics suddenly vanished for two hours every night?”

Robin chuckled. “You’re assigned especially to the band. So you can’t be called during a performance. I do think of these things you know.”

Steve sighed with relief. “I know you do, I just worry.”

“Worry wart,” she teased. “It’ll be fine. You just have to keep it in your pants while on tour because an EMT dating a rockstar is going to be suspicious as hell.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mean like every other tour we’ve been on?”

“Only this time,” she said, voice dangerously low, “you’ve got temptation in the form of one Eddie Munson, the man you’ve been pining over for literal years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve groused. “Am I at least allowed to be seen with Eddie you know, considering we are friends?”

Robin sighed dramatically. “I guess. Just try to keep the PDA to a minimum please.”

“I promise.”

This was going to a very long three month tour.

****

Jim Hopper was a former Marine and he looked it. He was built like a tank with a grizzled appearance and cigar tucked between his teeth. Simon thought that he thought Hopper scared the enemy off just glaring at them and Steve privately agreed.

He was there for two reasons. To deprogram their stage persona and to brush Steve up on his emergency medical training.

Actually they all were learning because it was it interesting. Simon and Shane didn’t need to pay attention for certification, but they did anyway.

“How long do you guys plan to be in the studio this week?” Hopper asked. “I need to know if I need to have someone else pick up my daughter from the airport.”

“They want us to have at least eight hours in the studio a day,” Shane explained. “They want us to get as much done as we can before Corroded Coffin goes on tour so they can at least release a single or two.”

Hopper nodded. “Then I should be fine. She’s a fashion designer in New York and the fashion house she works at is sending her out here to intern at their LA branch.”

“That’s awesome!” Shane said. “Maybe while she’s here we can fan her design our costumes for the new tour.”

Hopper shook his head. “As long as it paid. This internship sure ain’t.”

Robin threw her arms in the air. “Fine! I’ll see what the budget is for that and get back to you.”

Hopper chuckled.

“They have you wrapped around their fingers, girly.”

Robin smirked. “Don’t I know it.”

****

That night Steve called Eddie up.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie greeted back. “How did today go? It was first day with the deprogramer, right?”

Steve curled up on the sofa and tucked his feet under him. “It was okay. He’s a bit scary, but apparently he has a daughter Dustin’s age.”

“The butthead will be pissed he missed that,” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed warmly. “She���s really pretty, too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Suzie’s a great girl. But we all know here parents aren’t going to let her marry someone ‘outside the faith’ as it were.”

Steve chewed on his thumbnail. “Yeah. I was hoping with them both going home for the whole summer would break them up.”

Eddie scoffed. “It’s good thing talk and text is included in mobile plans these days unlike in early days of yore when mobile plans made you pay for every text message and long distance calling, otherwise their cell phone bills would be through the fucking roof.”

“Tell me about,” Steve huffed. “And he’s going to spending the last week of vacation in Utah with her.”

“Eeee,” Eddie said with a grimace, “is it bad of me that I hope her parents scare him off?”

“Maybe a little,” Steve admitted. “But I just want him to be happy, you know?”

Eddie let out a long drawn out sigh. “Yeah. So you guys got the contract all figured out?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve muttered. “It’s going to be hard being in the studio and taking EMT course to pretend to be medical personnel. Well not really pretending. Both me and one of the other band members have training. Me with being a lifeguard for awhile there and them with being an EMT. But it feels wrong somehow.”

“Is there something else, some other role you can fill?” Eddie asked after a moment or two of silence.

“Not according to Robin,” Steve groused. “She says it’ll be fine and no one will figure it out. And I trust her. Her plans have gotten us through two tours already, one even being overseas...”

“But you’re still worried because I’ll be on the road with you?” Eddie asked gently.

Steve threw his head back and groaned. “God that sounds so horrible of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie admonished. “It’s not. It’s an extra variable you didn’t have to factor in before. But we will make it work.”

“I think the biggest part is that Eddie and Steve have to remain friends until after the tour so everyone doesn’t connect Steve with Abbadon,” he said. “God that sounded pretentious. Talking in third person like some Chad.”

Eddie giggled. “Maybe a little, but I got what you mean.”

“Don’t laugh!” Steve whined. “My dick is going to fall off from the sheer amount of blue balling that’s going to be happening on this fucking tour. Well not fucking actually. I’m going to be in hell!”

“And people tell me I’m dramatic,” Eddie said laughing out loud. “What do you normally do on tour?”

Steve sat up and stretched his feet out in front of him on the sofa. “It’s complicated.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t doubt that, sweetheart. Are we talking NDAs or fucking with the masks on?”

Steve laughed. “It’s more like no phones, dark room, no staying the night. That sort of thing.”

“I’m betting there aren’t many that agree to that.”

“More than you’d think,” Steve snorted. “Groupies gotta fuck.”

“We’ll figure something out. I won’t let those pretty balls go blue,” Eddie said with a snicker.

“Help me, Eddie-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope!” Steve cried in a sharp falsetto.

Eddie laughed. “You’re a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“And you love it.”

Warmth just flooded Eddie’s tone when he replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds.”

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

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[agaypanic]

Can you do a Rodrick fic where his band and the readers band are kinda like rivals but they end up falling for each other yknow? Sorry I’m so bad at detail lmao 💀

Battle of the Bands (Rodrick Heffley X Pop Singer!Reader)

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Summary: While wandering around during lunch, Rodrick sees a giant poster for Battle of the Bands, which immediately piques his interest. But while signing up, he meets the leader of a pop band.

A/N: lowkey famous au, reader is in a pop band based off of Citizen Queen (by based off of, i mean the band name is citizen queen and they sing a citizen queen song, but i just made up the other band members lol) (side note: just found out (writing this 6/6) that citizen queen is a three piece now AND grouptherapy is a duo?? Why was i not informed on this omg). Kinda inspired by some of the pop!reader x rocker!rodrick asks ive answered, also kinda inspired by metal lords 

***

Rodrick had a routine of wandering around the school during lunch. He didn’t really like the cafeteria. It was loud, not in a cool rock way, and was filled with his annoying peers. So he grabbed whatever sandwich his mom packed for him that morning and ate it as he walked around campus. Sure, he could just eat in his van. But knowing him, he would probably miss class if he went anywhere outside the building. He didn’t mind that much, but his parents were way more on his ass about grades and attendance than usual.

While walking down one of the hallways, a giant poster caught Rodrick’s attention. “Battle of the Bands.” He read, eyes soon widening as he registered what it meant. This wasn’t just some poster advertising the event; it was also a sign-up sheet. Shoving his half-eaten sandwich into his mouth, Rodrick ran to the poster while trying to pull a pen out of his backpack.

The sign-up sheet was blank, so the poster must have just been put up. This felt like fate to Rodrick, seeing this before anyone else. He wrote his band’s name quickly, taking up two entry lines in his excitement. 

He stared at the poster a bit longer before someone appeared behind him. “Excuse me?” Rodrick whipped his head around to see a pretty girl with a lopsided smile.

“Hi.” Rodrick didn’t know why you had approached him, but he wasn’t about to stop you.

“Hey.” You pointed to the poster behind him. “Are you done with this?”

“Huh?” He suddenly remembered that he was in your way. “Oh! Yeah, sorry.”

Rodrick stepped to the side, watching you laugh lightly and take out a pen. “It’s okay.” He watched as you wrote a name below his, only taking up one line instead of two like him. You read his band’s name. “Loded… Dipper?”

“It’s pronounced ‘diaper.’” He corrected proudly, missing your muffled laughter. “We’re a rock band. I’m the drummer and the founder, Rodrick.”

He thrust out his hand for you to shake. “Cool.” You said. “I’m Y/n, singer and founder of Citizen Queen.” You pointed to the name you had written down. “We’re a pop band.”

Rodrick didn’t have the same decency as you to hide his laugh. “Pop? That’s like, so overdone.” You raised your brows at him in surprise.

“Well, you know what they say. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” You retorted, giving the sign-up sheet and then giving him a once-over. “Why’s your band called ‘Löded Diper’? Is it because you guys are full of crap?”

Rodrick gasped dramatically, dropping your hand. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Toosh.”

“It’s touche.”

“Touche.”

“I guess we’ll see you at auditions.” You say, giving Rodrick a sickly sweet smile. “Let’s hope you don’t stink as much as your name would suggest.”

Rodrick opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t think of anything. He groaned in frustration and pointed his finger at you. “I’ll think of a comeback to that.” You laughed, starting to walk away.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking of one!”

***

Rodrick saw you at auditions before you saw him. You were with your friends, joking around and doing warmups. 

“Hey, who’s the hottie you’re staring at, Rodrick?” Chris hit his friend’s shoulder, following his eye line to see you do some half-hearted dance practice with the rest of your band.

“Don’t…” Rodrick trailed off, knowing he would call you the exact same thing. But he needed to focus. He looked at Chris with a stern look. “Don’t call her hot. She’s the enemy, Chris, she’s competition.”

“Chill, man.” Drew laughed.

Rodrick whipped around to look at his band. “No. We gotta focus if we’re gonna win this thing. You can start thinking about hot chicks when we need groupies on our big sold-out world tour.” His bandmates thought about it for a moment, before nodding in understanding. “Good, now start setting up. We go on first.”

The rock band moved their equipment to the auditorium stage to set up. Seeing that the first band was about to audition, everyone settled into seats.

Löded Diper’s performance was… interesting, to say the least. The music wasn’t exactly your taste, mainly the lyrics. And they were very… energetic. That was the nicest way you could describe the somewhat cringey spectacle. As soon as the boys were finished, the two people conducting the auditions scribbled down some notes and yelled out for the next performers: you and your band.

While Löded Diper packed up their equipment, you decided to go up to talk to Rodrick. You figured that you might as well try to be civil with him. You had to admit that when he wasn’t talking, Rodrick Heffley was kinda cute.

“Nice job.” Rodrick looked up from one of his drum pieces, trying to decide whether or not you were being sarcastic. Maybe you were a little bit, but you wanted to keep that to yourself. 

“Thanks.” He said a bit skeptically. Then suddenly, the skepticism turned into cockiness. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to top it, baby.”

You rolled your eyes a bit playfully. “My name’s not ‘baby,’ don’t call me that.” Then you laughed a little. “And good comeback… I guess.”

“It only hurt a little to come up with.” 

“Two minutes until the next band comes up!” One of the adults called out, and Rodrick jumped to pack up the rest of his drum set.

You didn’t think he’d trust you to help him put his stuff away, and frankly, you didn’t exactly want to in the first place. “So… maybe we’ll see each other at Battle of the Bands?”

“Depends on how good you do.” He teased. Annie, one of your friends, called you over to where the rest of your band was grouped. You gave Rodrick one last look before starting to walk away. “Baby.”

You whipped around and saw Rodrick smirking at you. Shaking your head, you kept walking.

***

You shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that almost every group that auditioned got into Battle of the Bands. The auditions were probably just a formality, at the most, making sure no one was gonna perform anything too explicit. 

The high school auditorium was completely packed, making you a little nervous. This wasn’t your band’s first performance, but it was your biggest so far. You tried to stay positive, though. You and your friends have run through this song probably a hundred times with barely any problems. Now, all you had to do was do it one more time in front of your entire town.

“Citizen Queen,” the stage manager read the band name from his clipboard. “You’re up next, get ready.”

You were about to move closer to your friends, who were huddling together when you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Hey.” You turned around to see Rodrick. 

“Hi.” You responded, squinting at him because of the slight darkness backstage. “Nice eyeliner.”

“Thanks, I used my mom’s.” You giggled at the response, and Rodrick cracked a smile at the sound. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks. Good luck to you guys, too.” You put your hand out. “May the best band win.”

Rodrick shook your hand, repeating your words. Before you could let go, he squeezed your hand and looked at you hopefully. “Maybe… whoever wins should get treated to dinner by the other?”

You smiled, slowly starting to nod. “That sounds nice.” You decided not to mention that other bands were competing, so the chances of Löded Diper or Citizen Queen winning were slim. You leaned close to Rodrick. “Better get your wallet ready.”

“We’ll see about that, baby.” Rodrick teased before finally letting go of your hand.

With one last look, you skipped over to your friends, who were giving each other pep talks. You all talked for a quick minute before the announcer called your name. The five of you ran out on stage and got in your positions, waiting for the music to start.

Rodrick watched the entire performance, eyes intently focused on you. You moved fluidly with the rest of your friends, not singing until the pre-chorus. Rodrick was immediately taken away by your voice. “Keep my head up, head up, and heels high. I might be in love, but I don’t rely on someone to make me feel alive.” While walking around the stage, you suddenly made eye contact with Rodrick. “You keep calling me baby. But that’s not what my name is.” You winked at him before you and the rest of your friends started singing the chorus.

It felt like an eternity to Rodrick before the song ended, and that was meant in the best way possible. He honestly didn’t want it to end, because your voice was so lovely and you were so energetic. 

When you ran off stage, you and your friends tightly hugged each other, filled with adrenaline. “That was so awesome!” Nora squealed.

“They’re cheering so loud.” Stella laughed. “We’re totally gonna win this thing!”

Everyone started to pull away from each other. “No one speak too soon.” You said, slightly out of breath. “You might jinx us.”

“Come on,” Annie said, starting to walk away. “Let’s get some water.”

Everyone eagerly followed, but you started to stagger. You called out to your friends, saying you’d be there in a minute, before walking over to Rodrick, who seemed to already be waiting for you.

“That was awesome.” He said as soon as you were in earshot. “You were awesome.”

“Thanks.” You grinned. “Glad it didn’t sound too overdone.”

Rodrick laughed sheepishly, remembering his comment about your band’s genre from a few weeks ago. “No, it was, uh… It sounded just right.” Rodrick looked around, ensuring he still had time to talk to you before he and his band had to go on. “So, even though my band is pretty awesome, I have a feeling that you guys will win. But even if you don’t… can I still take you out to dinner?”

It amused you a bit, seeing this rocker boy look so shy. You took a step towards Rodrick and went up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’d like that.”

“Löded Diper, you’re on in five minutes!” The stage manager called out.

Rodrick took a deep breath, reeling from your affection and the fact that he and his band had to perform soon. “Awesome.” You both chuckled at the slight waver in his voice. “So, I guess I’ll see you later. Queen.”

You laughed at the new nickname. “I guess you will.”

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit @screechingsandwichtriumph

[hippiegoth97]

Roam Pt.1: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

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Description: The year is 1991, and your husband Eddie and his band Corroded Coffin is on an international tour for their first major album. You're traveling with the band in their private jet. On a flight between tour stops, Eddie's fear of flying leads to some interesting events...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, rockstar!eddie munson, female reader, drug use, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, mentions of fear/anxiety about flying

Word Count: 3.7k

divider by @strangergraphics

Roam Pt. 1

Good Evening, I'm Kurt Loder for MTV News, bringing you the latest in music entertainment. Tonight, breakout metal band Corroded Coffin are in the midst of a headlining world tour for their smash hit album, Hellfire Rising. So far, they've completed their North and South American legs of the tour and are head-banging their way through Europe. The band caught their big break in 1989, signing with Megaforce Records to produce their debut album. Given their meager beginnings in the town of Hawkins, Indiana, the band has remained humble as they reap the benefits of success. Here we have a clip of their notorious front-man Eddie Munson, describing how the band has taken to their newfound fame.

Interviewer: How are you and the band handling being one of the biggest metal bands right now?

Munson: Ya know, nothing really feels all that different than when we were a local band of nobodies. We just like makin' the music and being a voice for the freaks. And I've got my lovely wife Y/N to thank for helpin' me stay grounded, she knows how to bust my balls just enough to keep me in line. [Laughs]

Interviewer: Sounds like you're a very lucky man, Mr. Munson.

Munson: Oh, please. Call me Eddie, I'm a Rockstar, not a stock broker. [Laughs again] But yeah, I truly am. She's the greatest woman in the world, we wouldn't be here without her encouragement and support. Aw, look man, I gotta get goin'. Goodbye, England and next stop, Germany! [Sticks out tongue while making rocker devil horns]

Well, he certainly is a lively character. Be sure to look out for their upcoming sophomore album, Freaks Only, releasing next spring. I'm Kurt Loder, and this has been MTV News. Coming up next, a solid hour block of your favorite music videos of the summer. Good night.

You click off the TV, tossing the remote beside you on the sofa. "You look so sexy on TV, baby." You say to Eddie, sitting sideways on his lap as you and the band watched the special newscast together on their private jet.

"Oh, really? Better than the real thing, dollface?" Eddie asks teasingly, his hands resting on your hip and thigh.

"Mmm, never." You reply in a sultry tone, leaning in for a kiss. He happily meets you halfway, the hand on your hip migrating to your ass. He squeezes the flesh roughly, making you moan.

"God, you guys need to get a room." Gareth says, rolling his eyes in his chair. The other members mumble their agreement.

"Alright, we'll turn down the heat for your sake, hm?" You break away, leaving Eddie's lap to snort a line of coke from the coffee table in front of you. You inhale it, sniffing harshly. You lazily slump back against the couch, taking Eddie's hand in yours.

"You know, you could've at least mentioned us, Eddie. We are the actual band, after all. All you talked about was Y/N." Jeff pipes up, crossing his arms in frustration.

"Guys, you know how much I value you as equal members of the band. And it's MTV, dude. They catch you off guard and take a small soundbite, you know? Besides, we've all been equally featured in magazine interviews and sit-down talk shows. You guys are my friends, and my brothers. You mean the world to me, we've been playing together since we were kids." Eddie replies, trying to calm the brewing storm.

"You guys are just jealous that the media favors the front-man. It's not Eddie's fault. You think I pitch a fit every time some female fans get a little too bold with him? No, because I know I'm what's important to him, not some slutty groupies. Just like how you all matter more than a fuckin' MTV ambush." You don't mean to overstep, but you wish the guys would chill out a little.

"When we want your opinion, Yoko, we'll ask for it." Alex retorts. You just scoff.

"Oh, real original, man. I'm the wife, so I'm ruining the band. Jesus, guys. You realize you're like family to me, right? Like Eddie said, brothers. I'm just trying to explain why things seem one-sided. You're a band, a team. You think Metallica bickers the way you do? I don't think they'd be half as successful as they are if they did." It may be the coke talking, but you feel like a valid voice of reason for the group, always settling their little squabbles. Despite being grown adults, they still act like little boys at times.

"That's enough, out of all of you. Please, let's not ruin the buzz we have going from how kickass tonight's show was, hm? We're gonna take off soon, so get settled in. Come on, Y/N." Eddie stands, calling the bitchfest to a close and dragging you to the private bedroom at the back of the jet. "Night, guys." He says with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Night, dickhead." The boys call to him.

"Ha ha, very funny." He shouts back, opening the door to your room. You walk past him, sitting on the bed. Eddie closes the door, clicking the lock. The room is pretty eclectic, there's a bed with black silk sheets, a mini fridge, and a small bathroom. There's a large mirror on the ceiling, the walls are painted a deep red, and plush shag carpet covers the floor. Eddie had been very particular about how he wanted the bedroom on the Corroded Coffin jet to look. It's your safe place that you share together, away from the others. Before heading on tour, Eddie had struggled with a fear of flying. Going to LA to sign a record deal and work on the album took a toll on him. And for the first couple legs of the tour he needed to be sedated before each flight. But lately he's calmed down about it, though takeoff and landing still give him major anxiety.

"You alright, baby? How 'bout you come get buckled in with me?" You smirk at him, getting under the covers to fasten your seat belt that Eddie had built into the mattress.

"You could stand to butt out every once in a while, Y/N." He says in annoyance, climbing into bed next to you.

"I'm just trying-"

"Yeah, I know, you're just trying to help. I get that we've all known each other since we were in middle school and everything. But you're not in the band, okay? If we're having a problem, just let us handle it." You're about to protest, but he puts a hand up to stop you. "I appreciate your concern, babydoll. Really, you know I value your opinion over anyone else's, okay? But you don't need to be such a backseat driver." He takes your hand in his, kissing it gently. "I love you, angel. Can you just take a step back, for me?" He pleads with his big brown eyes, you can never say no when he uses them on you.

"Alright, Eddie. I'll let the band handle the band's problems. And I love you too, babe." You kiss his cheek, laying your head on his shoulder as the plane begins to take off. Eddie holds you close, tensing at every movement the jet makes as it ascends into the air. "It's okay, love. I'm right here, and we're buckled in safe." You look at him, trying your best to keep him relaxed.

"I know, I'm a lot better than I used to be. Just hate how shaky getting in and out of the damn air is." He always gets a little pissy when he's scared, but you've always found it endearing. "Maybe if I had a distraction, I might be able to ignore how awful this is?" You're unsure what he's referring to.

"And what did you have in mind, baby?" You ask coyly, hoping he means what you think he does.

"Well...we could, you know..." He gulps, unable to form full thoughts as his fears of falling from the sky take hold. You decide to take charge, placing your hand under the covers to ghost over his cock. He moans, eyes boring into yours.

"Is this what you were thinking of, sweetheart?" You play innocent, teasing him. He just nods, still stiffened up with stress. "Okay, baby. I'll take care of you. Can you lay down for me?" He does as you ask, occasionally trembling like a leaf. "It's okay, I'm gonna make it all better." You grip his length through his tight jeans, causing him to groan. You palm him through the material, winding him up. He gazes at you, panting in anticipation.

"More, please." He manages to say, almost whining. You heed his request, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly of his pants. He kicks off his sneakers, helping you pull his jeans down. Eddie pulls his muscle tee off as well, revealing his chest to you. He's only in his boxers now, and your hand grips him again through the thin fabric.

You take a moment to gaze over his form, comparing how he looks now to your high school days. He still has the long hair, and his clothes have stayed the same for the most part. But he's gotten a few more tattoos in recent years, one of which is your initials on his V-line. You have his tatted on your hip, so you always remember that you belong to each other. He also wears eyeliner now, which is very sexy, and has his ears and nose pierced. He convinced you to let him grow a goatee and mustache once, but it didn't really suit him so he thankfully shaved them off. It's crazy to look back on the years gone by, you never thought you'd see Eddie's wildest dreams come true. But you've been by his side from the beginning, and you intend to stay here until the very end. He and the guys worked so hard to get here, you couldn't be more proud. And now you've got him moaning in your grasp, in your bed, in your special room, on your private jet. The mere concept of that blows your goddamn mind every time. "I'm the luckiest woman in the world, you know that?" You say, looking deep into his eyes.

"Is that so? I suppose that makes me an even luckier man then." Eddie breathes heavily, begging with his eyes for you to remove his final layer and touch him fully. You appease him, leaving him naked inside his seat belt. His cock stands at attention, the head swollen and leaking precum. You lean over it, letting a drip of spit slowly fall from your lips onto it. Eddie stares at you, enraptured by every move you make. You spread the saliva around his head, rubbing it down his length. "Fuck, Y/N." He moans, his hand squeezing your thigh.

The pilot suddenly speaks through the intercom. "Evening, everyone. Just letting you know we've reached a comfortable cruising altitude, and the skies look nice and clear for our journey tonight. You're all set to move freely in the jet." The speaker clicks as he concludes his announcement.

"Perfect timing." Eddie says, quickly unbuckling your safety belts before pouncing on you. He smashes his lips on yours, hungrily sliding his tongue in your mouth. You moan into the kiss, gripping the sides of his face. He gropes your tits over your shirt, squeezing roughly as he lays over you. His mouth releases yours, migrating down your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

"Someone's needy." You quip, running your fingers through Eddie's hair. You drag your nails around his scalp, and he groans against your throat. He bites down on your flesh, sucking it into a deep purple hickey. You love it when he marks you, letting everyone know that you’re his. "Oh, Eddie." You moan, arousal spreading in your panties.

"I fuckin' love you so much." He says breathily, cupping your cheek as he gazes down at you.

"I love you too, my sexy Rockstar." You smirk, boldly gripping his cock in your hand again.

"Shit, Y/N." He groans at your touch, desperate to be inside you. "We gotta get you out of these clothes." He pulls at the hem of your shirt, and you sit up to lift it over your head. Eddie immediately reaches behind you to remove your bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You expect him to start massaging them in his hands, but he instead starts unbuttoning your leather pants. He pulls them down harshly, along with your lace panties. You lay down on the pillows, completely bare to him. He sits on his knees as his eyes scan over you, drinking in your beautiful form. "You're so gorgeous, love. And you're all mine."

"All yours, baby." You reply, giggling from his words making you blush. Even after all these years, you still feel so strongly for each other. He smirks at you, playfully grabbing your left foot. He kisses the bottom of it, and you try not to react to how it tickles. His lips move upwards, meeting every inch of skin he can. He crawls slowly towards you as he kisses your ankle, your knee, until he reaches your inner thigh. You sigh out at how soft his plush mouth is against your skin, your insides setting aflame. He's about to reach your dripping cunt, when he backs off to repeat his actions on your other leg.

Eddie's eyes never leave yours as he works, letting you know how much he worships you as his true love. He creeps up your other leg, reaching your thigh again. He glances at your glistening pussy, his smile growing wider. "You're so wet for me, angel. You want me to taste you?" His breath fans over you, whispering across your clit. He massages your thighs with his hands, tentatively waiting for your answer.

"Yes, please. Show me how much you love me, darling." He doesn't waste a single second before diving between your legs. His tongue licks a long, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your bundle of nerves. "Oh, God." Your hands ball up the sheets beneath you, pleasure already beginning to take hold. Eddie's a master at eating out, always knowing exactly how to please you. His tongue is possibly as well-trained a muscle as his musician fingers, he doesn't stick it out at all opportunities for nothing.

"Mmm, you taste so good, sweetheart." He says, quickly resuming his work on you. He licks you relentlessly, flicking his tongue against your clit and inserting himself into your soaked hole. You moan his name repeatedly, feeling your orgasm building like a knot in your belly. His fingers replace his tongue inside you, curling to hit your g-spot expertly. He pumps his digits in and out, sucking harshly on your clit. He wants to feel you cum around him, to scream his name as pleasure takes you over.

"Fuck, Eddie. Don't stop, right there! Just like that, make me cum." You cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold his face against your core. He hums against you when you tug on him, the vibrations sending you further toward the edge. He maintains his pace, wet noises harmonizing with your moans. Waves of pleasure roll over you, signaling your oncoming release. You gaze up at the ceiling, watching your reflection in the mirror. Your skin is glistening with sweat, your mouth agape as curses and cries of passion tumble from your lips. It's intoxicating to watch yourself lose control, seeing Eddie's mop of curls situated between your legs. You look at the flexing muscles in his back and shoulders, and admire his perfect ass.

Eddie hums against you again, pumping his fingers faster into your pussy. You scream his name as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping around his head. Fireworks explode inside your stomach, showering sparks throughout your body. He drinks up your juices, extending your high. Stars blur your vision, and your hips buck against Eddie's face. He's struggling to breathe, but he lets you ride out your orgasm. The bliss dissipates, your body going limp and releasing your husband from your grasp. "Jesus, Y/N. That was so fuckin' hot. Almost suffocated me, but I'd happily die buried between your thighs." He pants, marveling at your fucked out expression.

"I'll make a note to sit on your face on your deathbed then." You joke, making the both of you laugh lightly. Eddie lays over you again, kissing your lips repeatedly. His cock slides against your slick folds, making the two of you moan into each other's mouths as your lips smack together. He continues to rub himself against you, teasing and riling you up again. Your blood is boiling inside you, you can't wait any longer for Eddie to fuck you. "Baby, please don't tease." You whine between kisses, urging him to give you what you want. He rolls you both over so you're on top, breaking his lips away from yours.

"Go ahead and ride me, darling." He grips your hips roughly, his rings digging into your flesh. You sit upright, taking Eddie's dick in your hand. You pump him a few times, lifting yourself on your knees. He moans at your touch, boring his eyes into yours. "Now who's being a tease?" He asks breathily, and you smirk before sinking onto his length. He fills you up perfectly, brushing against your g spot. The air is knocked out of your lungs, and you take a moment to adjust to his size.

Once you're ready, you slowly lift yourself up and fall back down onto Eddie's cock. "Fuck." You mutter, relishing the sensation. You repeat this action a few times, drawing lewd moans from the both of you. You place your hands on his chest, beginning to bounce up and down against him. His hands guide you to hit your sweet spot every single time, your head falling backwards in ecstasy.

"God, you're so beautiful like this, angel. And so fuckin' wet and tight for me." He meets your bounces with the occasional thrust upwards, making your breath catch in your throat. Your velvet walls hug his dick perfectly, it's like you're made just for him. He'll never get enough of you, he always wants to be balls deep inside you and making you scream.

You roll your hips, setting a new angle for yourself that manages to feel even better. A second orgasm is simmering inside you, building and building as you keep up your rhythm. You can't stop moaning, calling Eddie's name like he's a deity you're praying to. He's just as vocal as you, which you've always found extremely hot. He's not afraid to express himself with you, in bed or otherwise. This moment is so perfect, you never want it to end. "You feel so good inside me, Eds. Only you can make me feel this way." Your dirty confessions spur him on, he hammers up into you even more as you continue to ride him.

You're chasing each other's highs at this point, desperate to send yourselves over the edge. Your skin is slicked in sweat, making your bodies slippery. Your lustful noises blend together with the slapping of skin. When you least expect it, the plane hits some minor turbulence. Your stomachs drop as the jet dips in the sky, and you catch a bit of air before landing on Eddie's cock deeper and harder than you ever have before. You both shout obscenities at the sensation, half-wishing it would happen again. "You getting close, baby?" Eddie asks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lowers a hand between your legs to rub your clit with his thumb. You moan at the added stimulation, moving your hips even faster. You want to cum so badly, your bliss is threatening to boil over any second.

"Yes, love. So fucking close, make me cum." Your eyes meet his, burning with intense passion. The look on his face tells you he's just as close to the edge as you are, sweat drips down his cheek, and his eyebrows are knitted together. He rubs your clit harder, watching your eyes screw shut as you're overtaken by your orgasm. "Oh, Eddie!" You scream, legs shaking uncontrollably. Eddie moves his hand away, grabbing your hips again to pound upwards into you to reach his own finish line.

You keep moaning consistently as his thrusts prolong your pleasure, your mouth hangs slack to release the noises. You see stars once more, they swirl around in your vision as your arousal drips down Eddie's cock. You throw your head backwards again, tears streaming down your cheeks from overstimulation. He looks at the scene before him in the reflection of the mirror above you, watching himself fuck you relentlessly is what makes him lose control. "Fuck, Y/N." He chokes out, his warm load spilling into your spent cunt. His strokes slow down to a gradual halt, and you collapse onto his chest. You're almost gasping for air, your pussy clenching his length as your high subsides.

Eddie wraps his arms around you as you both try to steady your breaths. You lay on his chest, listening to his racing heart as his dick softens inside you. It's so comfortable and warm to lay with him like this, to be so close to another person is an amazing thing. You carefully lift yourself off of him, your mixed release dripping onto Eddie's stomach. You moan at the sight, quickly running to your bathroom to grab a damp washcloth to clean him off. Once he's no longer sticky, you put the cloth back in the bathroom and shut off the light before climbing back into bed. Eddie tugs the covers over the two of you, pulling you close to lay your head on his chest. "I love you so much, babe. You're the best husband a woman could ask for." You nuzzle his neck, playing with the small tuft of hair on his chest.

"And you're the world's greatest wife, angel. I love you to the ends of the universe and back." You lift your face up to give him a deep, warm kiss. He happily returns it, your hearts swelling with sheer love and adoration for one another. You pull away, failing to fight back a yawn. You lay back down, your eyes fluttering closed as you drift into a deep sleep.

To be continued…

[corroded-hellfire]

found this and immediately thought of 45+ yo girldad!rockstar!eddie who has to deal with this in conjunction with being on tour so his concert is interrupted by his little girl singing a heavy metal cover of do you want to build a snowman to a crowd of rowdy old rockers who go absolutely apeshit for it, mom!reader being backstage laughing her ass off but also just so proud yk

I’m not sure if you meant this as a request or not, but I absolutely needed to write it lol. Please enjoy some rockstar and dad!eddie 💖

Words: 1.1k

Concerts are loud. Metal concerts are even louder. Standing backstage, your three-year-old daughter in your arms, you're jealous of the giant pink headphones she’s wearing over her dark spiral curls. It’s become a regular occurrence for you to tease your husband that he’s going to need a hearing aid even sooner than you thought. He just grumbles a response about how you weren’t calling him old in bed last night. 

Little Elena bobs up and down in your arms, staring out at her daddy from where you two are on the side of the stage. It’s almost the end of Corroded Coffin’s set, so Eddie is dripping sweat as his voice soars through the speakers and his guitar notes ring throughout the whole venue. Most nights Elena would be back in the tour bus or hotel room, Jeff’s teenage daughter looking after her until you and Eddie got back after the show. Tonight, Jeff’s daughter had a date so you and Eddie decided she could stay up late to watch her daddy do his thing on stage. 

“Daddy!” she keeps shouting in between songs, her little hands slapping together as she applauds. Eddie can’t hear her, but he looks back at her every once in a while, and gives her a wink. Elena giggles whenever she catches her daddy’s eye, always a daddy’s girl. 

“This next song, uh,” Eddie starts as he adjusts the strap of his guitar. 

“Daddy!” Elena’s squeal was timed perfectly with Eddie’s pause. He can hear her shrill call and chuckles to himself. 

“Okay, hold on. Hold on. Before we play our next song, there’s someone I’d like you to say hello to.” Eddie nods for a stagehand to come over and he hands his guitar to the younger guy. The crowd is murmuring and rumbling, wondering what Eddie is up to now. Over his decades performing for crowds, Eddie Munson was known for pulling wild stunts like doing trick jumps off of amps or mooning the audience. Once he turned forty though, the antics began to calm. Then when he met you, he toned it down even more. Of course, the gossip magazines tried to blame you, saying that the rock star’s new young girlfriend is trying to control and tame him, when in reality, Eddie decided to be cautious because he wanted to be there for you and spend his life with you. Since Elena was born, Eddie hadn’t pulled one dangerous stunt. 

Now, your husband approaches you, eyes lit up in glee as your daughter makes grabby hands for him. He gladly scoops her into his arms and presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Wanna say hi to the crowd, baby?” Eddie asks your daughter. She can’t quite hear what he’s saying because of the headphones, but she gets what he means by his gestures. A sheepish smile comes over her face, but she nods her head. “What about you, gorgeous?”

Your eyes widen when Eddie looks at you questioningly. “No, no! God, no.”

Eddie laughs and presses another kiss to your lips before bringing Elena out to center stage. The crowd is full of awes and laughter as your husband stands with the tiny girl in front of the microphone.

“I’d like to introduce my daughter, little Elena Munson. You wanna say hi, princess?” 

Her large brown eyes take in the crowd in front of her before she hides her face in her father’s sweaty neck, her own dark curls blending in with his. Eddie chuckles along with the crowd and he rubs his hand up and down her tiny back. When the audience begins to cheer, she peeks her face out from the curtain of brown curls and a smile spreads over her mouth, identical to her dad’s.

“Right here in the microphone,” Eddie tells her, pointing for emphasis. “Just say hi.”

Slowly, Elena leans in and from the side of the stage, you hold your breath as you prepare for her high-pitched toddler voice to boom out of the speakers. 

“Do you wanna build a snow maaaaan? C’mon let's go and plaaaaay!” 

The metal concert goers go crazy, cheering and screaming for the little girl’s singing. She’s only encouraged by their reaction, her grin growing as she becomes more confident. 

“I never see you anymo! Come out the door! S’like you’ve gone awaaay!”

Eddie is partly exasperated at hearing the song for the upteenth time this week but is mostly filled with complete adoration as he watches his mini-me be an absolute ham for the audience. 

“We use ta be best buddies! But now we not. I wish you would tell me whyyyyy!”

Eddie looks over his shoulder to where you’re standing on the side of the stage. You’re laughing so hard that your stomach is cramping, and tears are rolling down your face. It never ceases to amaze you just how like your rock star husband Elena is. At seeing how much you’re enjoying this, Eddie’s joy only grows. In all his time as a performer, he thinks this might just be his favorite moment on stage.

“D’ya wanna build a snowmaaaan? It doesn’t have to be a snowman!”

Eddie leans in towards the microphone, raising his voice a few octaves to match the fictional princess.

“Go away, Anna!”

Elena giggles and squirms happily in her father’s arms, clearly delighted he’s playing along with her.”

“Otay, byyyye!”

“Elena Munson, ladies and gentlemen!” Eddie says. The crowd is deafening as they applaud the Disney song sung by the curly haired toddler. Eddie shows her how to bow, which she copies to the best of her abilities while in his arms. 

Pressing kisses all over her face, Eddie brings Elena back over to you. His scruff scratches her face, and she squeals, trying to push him away.

“Let me give you kisses, baby girl!”

“Too rough!” Elena shouts.

She’s clearly pleased with her singing performance as you grab your daughter and squeeze her to your chest. 

“You did so good, sweetie!” When you press kisses to her face, she doesn’t protest like she did for Eddie. “Mommy’s got two rock stars in the family, huh?” 

“Ya!”

“I’ll see my girls after the last few songs. Kisses?”

You don’t hesitate to press your lips to his, but Elena looks skeptical. 

“Rough,” she says.

“I’ll be gentle!” Eddie assures her. She nods and Eddie offers his cheek to her. 

“Mwah!” Elena smacks a kiss to his cheek. Eddie grins and tugs on one of her spiral curls before running back out on stage and taking his guitar back from the stagehand.

“You have a lovely voice,” you tell Elena.

“I know,” she says simply, making you laugh.

Yeah, she’s just like her dad. 

[twost3ps]

I'm really tired right now cuz I finished exams, but I was thinking about Micheal's possible appearance in hazbin and like...

What if he defies all expectations and is actually this punk, loud, aggressive, unprofessional guy. Still a short stack, but he's a rock star.

These are all ideas being pulled out of my butt but it would actually be kinda funny if Micheal, instead of being this stoic and very professional angel, is like Adam - hes deranged arrogant rocker band guy (???)

Lucifur and Micheal are twins, but in the beginning, Micheal is the party going fun, loving loud mouth, while Lucifur has to play as the responsible twin. Micheal would start a ruccus, but his ideas never strayed further from god, so he was never punished for his wrong doings- he's just seen as a troublesome angel that meant well. Mciheal did think Lucifurs plans were stupid, and he made a point of telling him so. Eden was Lucifur's escape from responsibility and Micheal.

Micheal still gets Lucifur sent down to hell but does not feel pity but rather irritation as now lucifurs old responsibility falls to him. He's loaded with work because Lucifur worked closely with God in the creation of eden.

So time flies, eden Yada Yada Yada. (Little guitarhero hints because I'm not well) Adam is put under Micheal's guidance after dying and ascending (this totally does not have negative consequences 🙄) and Micheal guides Adam in his first years in heaven. Adam gains a lot of his personality through this Micheal- his arrogance, his hate, and what whatnot.

This Micheal is an enabler. And he fuels the angry fire inside of Adam against Lucifur, Lilith, and even Eve.

Micheal, not feeling pity om his brother, let's Adam hate Lucifur, feeds into that hate, and let's it fester. While not on purpose, he aides in Adam developing his misogynistic mindset through blaming them for why paradise had to end. It's partially also because he really blames them too.

"You never ate that apple Adam. They did. It's the woman in your life that did you wrong. And maybe it's just woman in general."

Something to that degree.

There are good aspects to their relationship. Micheal helps build Adam's confidence. He teaches him how to fight. As this Micheal is a lot less professional he shows Adam rock and metal and even gives him his guitar axe. It was made out of Micheal's old sword.

Micheal praises Adam a lot. They have this dude bro thing going on (for my guitarhero brain it was borderline gay sometimes. Micheal has slapped Adam's ass a couple times as "a joke" like how "straight" guys do when playing around. Insanity) But Micheal was Adam's best bro in heaven, and he really craves his approval, so he becomes like him.

They don't interact much as time goes on because Micheal has a growing responsibility as population rises but they hang out enough.

They party, drink, and don't really do ummm.. what's righteous.

And Micheal is usually the one who suggests it.

And maybe that's why the heavens judgemnt is so skewed because Micheal kinda just sucks as judge and justic overall. He has his moments of professionalism when it calls - he's better than Adam at being straight laced - but he has a giant bias over his judgment that sways every ruling.

He and Lucifur meet again and Micheal goes onto egg Lucifur at every notice.

It becomes very apparent to everyone watching where Adam got his personality from, because if he wasnt like this in Eden, then he surly got like it in heaven and everyone can guess by who.

For what he'd look like, it's probably some unkempt general's cothers that are ragged and torn but in a cool way that makes him rugged. His hair is long and never kept, it's crazy and wavy, but has a charm to it.

But I do hope though that- if he appears- Micheal has the fandoms stoic and formal personality. This is just a funny thought

[microposting]

macro/micro, all m/m, nsft, noncon, ownership, objectification

A man meets someone at a punk show with some unique (and unwilling) piercing jewelry.

He was a little embarrassed about it. Whole basement full of people in t-shirts, hoodies, jeans, cargo shorts, understated glasses, natural-color hair, normal, ordinary, perfectly attractive people, and here he was stealing glances at Mr. Hot Topic. Like a time traveler from 2005. Like a kid’s show’s idea of a punk rocker. But fuck if the eye shadow wasn’t doing something for him.

Bo leaned over to Mickey. “Billie Joe Armstrong over there,” he shouted. Might as well be whispering, the band was so loud. This was why he didn’t go to punk shows.

Mickey laughed. “Gerard Way over there?”

“Yeah, yeah, Pete Wentz over there. You know these people. He into dudes?”

He shrugged. “Fucking look at him. If he’s not bi, I’ll eat my socks.”

While the bands switched over, Bo approached him with a beer. He was sweaty from moshing, his dye-fried hair tussled, and very glad for the beverage. The guy was a few inches shorter than Bo, chubbier. His tattoos were numerous and seemed mostly DIY, and Bo was pretty sure he caught a glance of nipple piercing when his shirt settled just right.

“You’re pretty hardcore, man,” he opened. “No way you don’t have a band, right?”

He laughed. “Aw, I’m kind of in-between right now. Why, you trying to start something?”

“Well, I wanna start something .” Bo rose his brows.

He looked him up and down and licked his lips. “Teddy,” he said.

“Bo.” 

They shook hands.

The shed in the backyard was unlocked. Bo slammed him against one decaying wood wall, between a scrap metal shelf and a lawnmower, and a shower of dust rained on them. Tongues in mouths immediately. Fuck yes, a tongue piercing. The next band was starting up, he could hear them muffled through the wall. Grimy, throbbing, loud. That would make a nice soundtrack.

Against his tongue, something… moved? Did Teddy’s tongue piercing just move?

Bo pulled back. It was way too dark in here to see anything but the outlines of his face. The slightest shadow betrayed his frown. “Um, I think your piercing, um-”

“Oh!” He laughed. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot. Hold on.” Teddy took his phone out and shone the flashlight into his mouth. 

“Oh, shit!”

There was a guy in there. In his tongue. Some sort of plate encircled his chest, keeping him in place. His arms were spread out over the tongue’s surface. Couldn’t have been taller than an inch. Teddy flipped his tongue up to show off his little legs, kicking frantically. He was nude, except for the hardware. 

Teddy flicked off his phone light and Bo stuttered weakly. He wanted a better look, he wanted to figure out that mechanics of that whole thing. Was it clamped on? Screwed? Who agreed to do that? Why was there a tiny guy? 

“Bandmate,” Teddy said, as if that explained anything. “That’s why we broke up. There was some weird electrical incident during practice while I was on a smoke break. I like to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“And they’re cool with that?”

He cackled. “Absolutely not!”

Bo slipped his hand up Teddy’s shirt. His “nipple piercings” were soft and warm and wiggled at his touch. It felt like these two were strapped lengthwise along barbells. Cuffed at the wrists and ankles, maybe?

“Here’s a fun game,” Teddy said. “See if you can make them all come.”

“And what’s the prize?”

“I’ll suck your fucking dick, Bo, obviously.”

He smiled. That was fair.

Kissing first, then. Bo lapped at the tiny man’s chest. He imagined him sputtering and shouting. Couldn’t actually hear anything over the music. Of course, it didn’t take much to drown out a voice that small.

He paused. “Who is he, anyways?”

“Rich. He was tryna get us to call him Dragon, though. Drummer.”

“He’s in your mouth, and he’s not the vocalist?”

Teddy laughed. “You’ll get there.”

His tongue returned and slipped down underneath. The man tried to kick his legs against him to keep his tongue away just a little bit longer, so Bo twisted it vertically and slid in between. He pressed up hard and dragged back slow, rocked his tongue back and forth, grinded against him. If he really focused he could taste it… the musk, the sweat. He must be sweating nonstop in there, far more humid than any sauna. Bo flicked his tongue against the tiny sack. With the smallest bit of pressure, his tongue could press in and envelope his entire package. He wiggled it until he felt the whole body stiffen, and then the littlest hint of salt.

Bo pulled back. Saliva dribbled down his chin. “That was hot,” he panted.

“Don’t stop now,” Teddy teased back.

He pushed his shirt up and slicked his inner lip against Teddy’s solid, wrinkled nipple. His piercing strained against the contact. 

Teddy gasped and sighed. “That’s Al. Bassist. But I just call him lefty now.”

Bo could slide him out to one side. He kissed his lower half and felt the nub of his straining cock poking between his lips. Could just barely hear him yell… Not sure if it was a scream of pleasure or resistance, but both ideas were getting him hard. He was so little, he couldn’t even penetrate halfway through Bo’s pursed lips. Bo half-sucked half-kissed on him. The tiny man awkwardly tried to hump back and he smiled. “I think lefty’s liking this,” he muttered.

Teddy laughed. “Oh, are you being a good toy, Al? You being a sweetie?”

Bo smiled and gave his nipple another kiss. He tasted cum.

He wondered if they’d all wind up obedient and eager one day, like this one seemed to be becoming. Maybe it was just too overwhelming. The smell, the taste, the feeling of his flesh encircling them. They were almost part of his body. It had to be maddening. 

“Good boy,” Bo whispered. He heard a squeak in response. 

He brought his hand to Teddy’s right nipple. Righty had a lot more fight in him. Bo leaned in and brought his ear up. God, he was screaming, but he couldn’t begin to make it out. It sounded a bit more like desperate begging than anger, he thought. Bo spat on him and brought his ear back, right up to him, then pinched the piercing longways and wiggled him back and forth so the saliva worked its way between him and the interior of the nipple keeping him captive. His shouting devolved into humiliating, uncontrolled noises, and finally a long moan and quiet panting.

“Your vocalist’s got lungs,” Bo muttered.

Teddy laughed. “Nah, Grant was lead guitar.”

He frowned. “You’re vocalist?”

“Nope. Keyboard. Still gotta make the vocalist cum.”

Bo’s fingers trailed down to his belly button. Empty.

“C’mon, dude, you being dense?”

His eyebrows twitched. Oh. Duh. 

Bo reached down and slowly, carefully unzipped Teddy’s jeans. He tugged down his underwear, that smooth-textured mesh kind, and felt up his cock. On the short side, with a nice thickness and shockingly soft skin. And there on the very tip, one last tiny body. Prince Albert style, ankles and wrists cuffed together by a strict straight piece of metal, coated completely in pre. 

“Fuck,” Bo whispered. “Lemme see.”

“Go ahead.”

He got down on his haunches and turned on his phone flash. God, the little guy was soaked . Long hair flattened against him, thick liquid coating his whole body. He looked right into Bo’s eyes and even at his tiny, tiny size his expression was clear. Contempt. And exhaustion.

Bo took his sweet time looking at him. The erection must have been constricting him even further, what did that feel like? To be so directly at the mercy of another man’s libido? When Teddy came… when he pissed …

He leaned in and slowly licked up his shaft, taking his sweet, sweet time dragging the very tip of his tongue up the man’s body. Teddy moaned, and even more pre bubbled up around the man. He sputtered and gagged. 

“Frontman gets front stage,” Bo muttered.

“Now you’re getting it.”

He turned off his phone and stood back up. Before Teddy could argue, Bo pulled out his dick. With a hand, he carefully pressed their heads together. Fuck. God, fuck, it was incredible feeling the little man against him. The prisoner. He was like an insect compared to a of couple dudes fucking in a stranger’s garden shed.

Bo jacked them both off, tip to tip, the little piece of jewelry smashed in the center of them. “Jesus,” he hissed. “It’s so fucking hot, Teddy, they live in you.”

“It’s all I think about,” he panted. “He feels every twitch in my cock. They-they feel everything.”

“They should worship you.”

Teddy moaned and spurted over his hand, his cock, and no doubt half-drowned his prisoner. “Oh, fuck. Shit. Sorry, I─ Jesus, you got me hot.”

“Please suck me off,” he muttered.

“Yeah, dude. Yeah, yeah.” Teddy got down on his knees and licked up Bo’s shaft and oh god, he nearly forgot about the tiny in there. His arms fruitlessly fought off the tide of his flesh, and when Teddy took him in and pumped in and out he flailed to find any stability at all. “Are you jealous?” Teddy asked.

“God, yes.”

“You’d like some too, wouldn’t you?” He brought his tongue up and expertly slid the upper half of the little body down Bo’s slit. Oh, god, all those tiny movements suddenly dancing around inside of his cock.

Bo gasped and grabbed at his hair. “Yes!”

“I could… set up another accident. Maybe some of your friends. Or a hookup.”

“Please, please. Let’s be gods, Teddy.”

“You’d really be willing to do that? To another human being?”

“Yes!!” he squealed.

Teddy chuckled. “Good to know. I actually was thinking about a navel piercing.”

Bo froze. “Wait─” he muttered, but Teddy had already gone back to sucking him off, even more vigorously. He tried shoving him off and his hands faltered, his collar slipped over his shoulder, his pants slipped down. “Wait, Teddy─” he whimpered, and his voice was already so much smaller. Teddy bent over further and further down until he had to scoop Bo up, letting his shirt fall to the ground. Sitting in his hands, he was handheld. And the tongue, it was just so overwhelming. Bo couldn’t manage to get any sort of grip to push it off, just a helpless victim to its pressure. He came into Teddy’s wide-open mouth, assaulting him with awful humid air, and he could feel it, he could tell it could easily fit him in by now. Bo scrambled desperately away, but to where? There was palm on every side of him, and an awful fall past that.

Light blinded him and the surface he laid on tipped around as his new owner inspected him. “But maybe a scrotal piercing would be better… How ‘bout a trial run?” The light flicked off. His world turned and tumbled Bo went into a rapid free-fall. He hit some tense fabric, trampoline-like, and that shifted too until he was pressed up against bumpy, musky skin, squashed directly underneath his sack. “See how you like it, hardware,” Teddy called down. “Not like you’ll have much choice.”

[icarusredwings]

Something The Cat Dragged In

A badly written COMEDY oneshot. (I have no clue how to write 11 or amy im sorry) No smut.

Posted: July 31st 2024.

Words: ~7,900

Ships: The Ponds, River/11/Simm

Prompt: The Doctor and River are trying to domesticate a feral Master with clicker training, and it's going about as well as you'd think.

This fic includes: Jealous 11, SFW worshiping kink, Horrible cat puns, Bondage, Amy being a freak, Pet play, Degrading, an Oblivious 11, and Mentions of Cheetah Virus changing a bored master's deoxyribonucleic structure. Consider that your trigger warning.

“Are you sure this is safe?” The ginger man asked, hesitant about the scrappy man that the raggedy doctor had brought on board the TARDIS.

“Absolutely!” He chimed, the smile on his face clearly larger than how much trust he had in this situation being anywhere near ‘safe’.

He knew that smile. That was the ‘I'm lying because I don't want to tell the truth’ smile. The one you had to watch out for. So nervous that fibber was..

“Oh, Amy's going to kill you…”

“I'm sure she will! As for now-” Rory watched as the Doctor jumped around the TARDIS a bit, hitting buttons, pulling levers, twisting dials. The usual. What wasn't so usual though was the fact a half blonde man with about half an inch of dark roots was standing there, Glaring at him. Swallowing, He stepped to the left, and then more towards the Doctor, being tracked by his eyes. Something about the way he smirked with such wide teeth made a shiver run up his spine.

Look, He's met a lot of odd aliens and crazies at the hospital but this guy looked at him as if he'd eat him whole in one bite.

“Doctor-”

“Not now Rory! Busy!” Coming around, He seemed to have this be the entire plan, getting the drop on him as he spun behind him, clamping a thick metal bracelet around his wrist, holding it as he quickly clamped the other. “Hey!”

“There we go! That's better!”

Huffing, the man began to try to take off the bracelet only to emit a small red light and a beeping noise. “Take this off of me! Right now!”

“Uhhhh…No.”

“Yes! Take it off or i'll-”

“You'll what? Hm? Still in the habit of telling me your plans are we? God you've always been like that. So clever and yet.. so dull..”

“I am NOT dull! You're stupid bowtie is dull!”

“Hey! Bowties are cool. Now then, Rory this is-... er.”

“Say it.”

“..er..”

“Go on. Say it!”

Taking a breath, The Doctor knew that no matter what he said would be bad. If he introduced him as Koschei, He'd not rest until he at least stabbed him in one of his stomachs.

“Rory, Master. Master, Rory.”

With a great sense of pride, The Master grins ear to ear, Putting his hands out and bowing as if he had just introduced someone extremely important. Perhaps an old friend that once held such great respect but now it seems both of their minds have gone a bit off their rockers. More so the other's, but they both thought this.

“... should I be worried?”

“Oh, Yes.”

“No!”

“Don't lie to them, Doctor! You and I both know what happens when I'm hungry..”

“Doctor? What's he mean by that?” Giving a look of concern, he backed away just slightly enough to trip over a loose wire. This fear seemed to please the blonde while the Doctor rolled his eyes. “Oh you are fine, I just fed you.”

“He's on a feeding schedule? Like… some kind of pet?”

“Do not speak of me like I am nothing but a pet!! I'm far beyond Your comprehensive abilities! Use your tongue to call me anything below your Master and It will surely be a mistake!”

“Yeah, About that, You're in charge of not letting me forget to feed him, okay? Jolly good, alright, Now! I do have to apologize, Your old room was destroyed but we have bunk beds! Cool right?” He rambled.

“Why do I have to make sure you remember?” Rory asks, scrunching his nose as he took another step forward.

“Do you want to find out?” The Master beamed, quite excited about teasing and gaining authority over the Doctor's fellow companions. If anything, They were pets. Not him.

“I wouldn't recommend that! Lets just say, You don't want to find out. Anywho! Back to what I was saying!” For a third time he turns to his old friend, new traveling buddy, hands clapped together politely.

“Your old room is busted. Gonzo! So you'll have to make a new one. Any requests?”

“Wait wait wait-”

“Good god, Rory what now? You're being quite rude!”

“You can't just bring someone aboard who's going to eat me and fly on by!”

“I thought we already established this. Keep up!”

“Yeah, keep up!” The Master shouted, egging the man on. “And if you can't, get off the ship! Do us all a favor and jump overboard.”

At this, he was met with a cross look and his ear being pulled. “Aye stop that! Now you're the one being rude!”

The days that followed weren't so simple. Between the Master trying to get out the front door, snapping at them, insulting everyone he met, refusing to eat certain things, and both Rory and Amy losing sleep with how much they argued, you could say that things were in fact not going well. The Doctor on the other hand said differently, claiming that it took time to get used to TARDIS living arrangements.

The thing that really got him rowdy though was his vaccines. Between scratching, cursing and kicking, it was a wonder how the Doctor was able to manage him at all, even if his methods weren't exactly filled with the most logic, some being closely related to rewards.

When the Master DID finally escape, his punishment was to wear a bell. That's it. A normal bell. Quite a large one though. Suited more for a large dog then a cat.

When he purposely shoved all the trinkets and containers off of the top of the fridge in order to sit on top of it, The Doctor made him a loft to lay on with his own window.

This seemed to have worked for a while, watching the stars as they floated by. But then when the problem arose of him not eating, The Doctor gave him a bean bag chair hoping having his own special spot would make him feel better.

But it didn't. If anything he only ripped it up, purposely destroying it. Coming back to the TARDIS to that kind of mess was enough for Amy to suggest getting rid of him or perhaps caging him up when they left but the Doctor was just in awe at how relaxed he was, snoring ever so softly while lounging on his loft as if he were purring from curing his boredom for the day.

“Aww Amy.. I couldn't. Look how happy he is.”

“He trashed the TARDIS! I thought you said you were going to take care of him?”

“I am! It's just… oh what's that word?”

“Hard?”

“Impossible?”

“Nothing is impossible.” He says, shaking his head.

“But you said that tons of times..”

“And yet none of them were true!” He says, wagging a finger. “I just have to think.”

So he thought. What else could he do? The Master was bound to rebel. That's been proven already.

“Well you better do it soon or else he's going to rip up your fez next..” this gave him an idea.. quite a large one at that.

“Oh Rory!! Wonderful Rory!” He says, grabbing his face as he holds him tight with that excited but manic glint.

“That's just what he needs!”

The two watched as the Doctor ran off to the console, trying to jump over the billions of beads only to slip, Falling for only a moment, popping back up over on the other side.

“A .. fez??”

“No!- well. Yes. But no. You'll see! Now go on. Don't you have erm-” he waved his hand at them, his brain doing that thing where his words were all jumbled up inside, making it difficult to speak. “Kissing to do? Or something? Don't worry about me I got a lot of cleaning up to do and- OH yes! Amy, are you finished playing that game with the rope? You know, the one you told me about?”

The ginger man's eyes widened greatly as he gave his wife a look of terror. The kind you only get when your head was screaming ‘WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM THAT?!’

The woman now blushed, Crossing her arms as she returned the look to her husband, implying that she had everything under control. “You mean that one where we pretend to be Fenrir and see how long it takes to get untied?”

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers. “That one! Quite a loud game is it not? Anywho- Can I have the rope back? I'm glad you two wish to practice kidnapping safety but I'm afraid In this era people are going more with handcuffs then rope.”

Amy's eyes became brighter, the kind that scared her husband to death.

“Handcuffs you say?”

“It seems in most situations they're used more often than rope nowadays.”

“Is that so?”

“..Why are you asking like that?”

“I was just wondering…What if we practiced getting out of handcuffs instead then? It would make a lot more sense to practice with modern tools then-”

“Oh will you SHUT up!? Get a room will you?! God. It's bad enough I'm stuck here with you two. I don't want to hear that either!”

Glancing up, the Doctor grinned seeing the Master awake and his same cranky self.

“Oh, be nice! They do have a room!...Still don't know why you'd ever want me to take out the bunk beds though…” he muttered this last part, rubbing his chin.

“Soooo….Doctor? Cuffs?” Amy started, rocking back on her heels.

“Oh yes! Here you are.” Tapping a button on the console, a small drawer popped out as he tossed two sets at the red head, Tapping another as a door in the wall opened up, revealing cleaning supplies. “Now, if you excuse me. I have work to do. And you mister! You're going to help me!” He shouts, only to be given a lazy bird and a “No i'm not.”

Sighing, the Doctor made a face of disappointment but wasn't surprised.

“I suppose you're not… Got it..”

It's been about 2 months since the Master joined their voyages. So far he's only had about 30 true crimes, and by that I mean he caught one of the homes they visted on fire.

About 53 “naughty” days. The Last week though? It's been secretly excellent. The Doctor thought that things were going great.

He's found that by giving the Master MORE freedom, he's actually learned how to behave quite a bit. It seems that separating him from the tasks of everyday life made him feel unwanted and untrusted (for obvious reason).

Hell, even he was shocked when told he was allowed to do important things.

Not only did he now have free range of the TARDIS but he was allowed to do mostly everything. He's even tried his luck at pushing buttons by sniffing around the other companions' rooms, knocking over and purposely misplacing things. All of which were met with a short talk and sometimes a hug.

This confused him greatly. He just broke something, why was he being forcibly hugged and then scolded? The Doctor would tell him to clean it up and if he didn't would get locked in the room (so he couldn't make another mess) forced to observe as the Doctor cleaned it himself.

He still had the bio bracelets so that he couldn't fully man the TARDIS but the Doctor began asking him to pull levers and asking his opinion on things. But why would the Doctor want his advice? He was a mere prisoner… usually captains of a ship didn't ask the people in the cellar for advice.

His bell had been kept on for safety reasons, mainly because he thought it was funny to chase Rory around until Amy came to spoil the fun by spraying him with a water pistol holding a liquid he couldn't quite place. Sometimes it stunk.

Once he opened his mouth to hiss at her and it went straight down his throat, cutting off the noise as he growled, only to realize it was sweeter than regular water. What was that? Sugar water?? No if it was sugar water it wouldn't stink like that..

Looking out his window, he was content as he watched the stars pass by, not entirely sure of what planet they were at but had a close enough idea of which solar system they were in. He could feel that they were extremely far from earth, further then that pathetic planet pluto, further than alpha centauri, and even further than Estello Aqualo, a planet full of nothing but water inhabitants.

Oh how he hated water planets. He much preferred reddish orange planets like Mars, Jupiter And Saturn. They reminded him of home… and the fact that blue was SO Last millenia-

While laying up here, up on his metal loft, He was mindlessly thinking, something he couldn't often do because of the constant thumping in his head but he's found that these bracelets dimmed the sound into a small tap rather than a thump of a hammer against his skull. He still heard it, oh yes he definitely could but it was much softer. Almost like a lullaby.

Lazily tossing the Doctor's ridiculous fez up and down, he wondered if the Doctor would be able to ever take it away… Rassilon only knew just how threaded the beat been woven into his life. And as much pain as it has caused him… He couldn't help but wonder…

What would he be without it?

Would he go back to being who he was before? An innocent child hoping, praying, Waiting until the day he received his Time Robes and was given his own TARDIS 60? Until he was gifted the honor of having his own team to command?

A team of his friends?

Until he was on the same team as Theta…?

No.

He could never stand with the Doctor. Never fully on the same team but yet- He sat up. They reminded him of those cartoons he watched when on earth.

Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner.

Iron Man and Captain America.

Batman and Joker.

The Master looked at the hat in his hands, pondering if he should put it on.. or perhaps throw it out the window! Or…

“Has anyone seen my Fez? I seem to have misplaced it.”

“Have you checked your room?”

“I've checked my bunk, yes. I've also checked the clothing closet and storage rooms.”

Listening from above, he let out a deep sigh, hoping down with a clattering of the TARDIS grate underneath. Being glanced at, He took a few steps forward, handing him the hat.

“Wha- Oh! Thank you!” Taking the fez he smiled, putting it on as if he seemed incomplete without it only to quickly hug him before bouncing off to what ever nonsense he was up to now.

Returning the hug, He didn't seem to notice until Rory stood there, Staring at him with an open mouth.

“What?” He grunted.

“...You..”

“Spit it out you ape.”

“..You returned his hat..”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“No no no, I mean… you returned his hat.. and hugged him..”

“He hugs all of us all the time, whats your point? If you say something stupid like friendship im going to stab you.”

“But today you hugged back. You never hug back.”

“And? so Wh- Oohh ….” Now freezing, He blinked. He did do that.. didn't he? Why did he do that?!

Why did he give it to him so easily? He didn't even ask for it back and he just.. handed it to him? And not only the hat but he returned his hug too?

….Why did I do that?

Now the two stared at each other, both worried and concerned on different levels for opposite things. One worried if he was getting soft, or possibly being brainwashed, the other concerned that he was about to lose an arm.

The silence only broke when he looked at his hands and muttered “Am I sick?? Don't answer that!”

Opening his mouth to reply, Rory immediately shut it, Nodding softly in understanding. While he was quite a brave man, he was smart enough to know that the Master WOULD in fact eat him. And the Doctor couldn't save him forever…

For the next couple of days, he thought about this heavily, deciding that next time he would rip up the hat on purpose. Yeah that'll show him! As for now, He had been standing by the control console, looking at the destination only to scrunch up his nose.

Oh great. Earth. 44 BCE. Just what they needed. More interactions with uncivilized humans fighting over politics… at least this would be entertaining. Assassinations always were when they succeeded.

Coming up to the console, The Doctor clicked a few things, Petting part of the tubing with a happy hum. The hum was slow and sounded like something he'd heard many many years ago. Something of taste. Yawning, He listened to the humming until the Doctor walked off to do something else before unconsciously bee lining for his room.

Climbing into the top bunk (The Doctor had the bottom one whenever he did decide to sleep so it was barely used.) The Master pulled the blankets up around him. Tugging his pillow close, closing his eyes. It didn't take long until he started making rhymed breaths, a rumbling in his chest and throat starting to form from the amount of comfort under the thick blanket.

He got cold easily, as most Gallifreyans did due to the natural heat that they grew up with. Even during his time as Prime Minister he wore layers. Lots of them, blankets in the Limos and curling up to Lucy in an attempt to steal what little warmth humans had. Why the Doctor favored London, a cold, rainy and cloudy place? He'd never know. He prefered somewhere warm. Usually the warmer, the more interesting beasts to see scare small children.

A few moments later he stopped the purring, opening his eyes with a confused “Wait a minute..” look. Why was he sleeping? He wasn't even tired and it was 1 in the afternoon. His regular nap time wasn't until 4.

What in all things unholy was going on?? Did the Doctor do this? A curse perhaps? Was it these?

Rolling over, he looked at the metal on his wrists and for the 14th time he began to gnaw on the bracelets, growling in frustration. What was going on!? Whatever it was, he didn't like it… Mmh…Oh well. He was already there.

The next day, a certain clattering of pans made him perk up. He was swinging in his rope hammock, batting at the decorations that the Doctor specifically told him not to mess with, climbing on them, tugging them, kicking them, biting them, etc.

Anything to try and ruin it but it was proving to be quite difficult to do and not be caught seeing as it was thick enough to not break easily.

Sure, he could just rip them down with the strength he had but that would be no fun. It would cut the fun by 78% actually. He'd already done the math. Whenever someone could come in, He'd instantly stop and pretend to be innocently snoozing.

The pang of pans though? That was enough to bring him down. Climbing out of his swing, the Master followed the noise, coming to the kitchen as he sat at the table, the chair specifically to the left side, separated from the others. A nice pillow on his chair as well.

Honestly he was quite proud of this one. The Master had thrown a fit for hours straight until the Doctor gave him a special chair and now he sat in it like a king peering over his subjects (when in truth, It's just because everyone else was too scared to sit next to him while he ate, afraid they'd get snapped at or bitten if the Master thought they wanted his food)

Sitting here, he waited. Patiently at first but his patience was quickly running out when seeing no one else was coming. Hadn't they heard? Were they not hungry? Well good. He'd simply have it all then. There was no waste on this ship. None at all thanks to him, except when it came to pickles or cucumbers. He hated them. They looked and smelled foul enough for him to hiss, gag, and vomit all at once.

Eventually, his patience grew tired as he looked to the redheaded woman who dropped these pans everyday. For some reason, the Doctor kept these pans up high and getting them down was a nightmare, even for him.

You had to move the pans in order to get the plates behind them. Honestly, the kitchen's arrangement system made him think of the time the Doctor used to store his robes with his socks and his shirts with his underwear.

Who did that??

“Where is everyone?” He asked her, in which turn she turned to glance at him, having heard the jingling of his bell already.

“What do you mean?”

“It's time for a meal…yes?”

“No?? it's 3 pm. Why would you think it's time for dinner already?” She asked.

The Master paused.. Why did he think it was time? Wait, why did he come in here in the first place?

Oh yes! The pans.

“You.. dropped the pans.” It was said with a questioning tone at the end more than a statement.

“Yeah? I drop them every time because this kitchen is an utter mess.”

“riiighht…”

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Amy was right. This place was a disaster. If he didn't enjoy the chaos of watching the humans try to figure out the unorganized kitchen he'd say screw it and fix it himself. But what fun would that be?

“What do you want anyway?” She grumbled.

“What?”

“You heard me. What do you want? What stupid little plan do you have now? Come to remind me how dumb I am for dropping everything? Going to threaten to eat me? ...Again?”

The master blinked, tilting his head.

“Well… No I-” Wait.. How dare she speak to him like that! But.. yeah.. why did he come to the sound of the pans? It was odd. Even For him. Perhaps he got his hours mixed up?- No. It was something more than that. Something he wasn't able to figure out.

Seeing the confusion on his face, Amy frowned, now feeling a little bad. “Oh… Are you hungry? Do you want a snack or..something?”

“Huh?”

“It's just that.. you ran in here like a cat hearing a can of tuna being opened.”

“What!? I did not!”

“Oh you SO did. Here, I'll ask the Doctor where he keeps the snacks for you, okay?”

“What do I look like a dog?”

“He mentioned something about buffalo lungs the other day.”

As if hearing a magic word, He smiled at her widely, the kind he only did when actually excited. “He did? Where?”

“But I dont know if they're yours or his… he eats some pretty weird stuff.”

“Aye! Are you insulting our culture?”

“Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it, bellboy? He's not going to give you a treat if you keep misbehaving.”

Glaring, his arms crossed. “...You're the one being rude.. the Doctor says I'M not allowed to be rude so why can you? God he was always a hypocrite..”

“Look just-” But before she could continue, he heard a different noise. A known squeak of an in-need-of-oil door. Turning away, he ignored her, taking off towards the door.

“Typical..” she sighed, figuring she might as well go see if the Doctor would share his snacks or not, just incase he came back.

Running through the TARDIS Involved jumping over a couple of things and coming to a stop as he saw that curly headed woman standing in the doorway holding a box.

Stepping deeper into the TARDIS, Her heels tapped, No- Clicked against the tile, humming as she spun around what looked to be a set of keys on a colorful keychain. She was sporting a sun hat and far less clothing than he remembered her from last time. His nose scrunched at the smell of sun lotion.

Peering out the door, he seen tons of reddish tinted sand and a sky of orange, yellow, pink. A sea of red. A large pink moon, visible in the sky from where he stood. Where were they? When did they land?

“Ah ah ah- Not so fast Kitty. Where do you think you're going?” She asks, smirking with that type of affection that the Doctor would give him at times before snapping the door closed. It was so annoying..

Beginning to glare from the nickname, a quiet growl rose in his throat. She called him this because of the bell around his neck and the fact that she had caught him “purring” in his sleep, when OBVIOUSLY it was snoring. Duh.

“Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, pumpkin.”

His nose scrunched further, Tilting his head like a confused puppy, the way the Doctor does at times. “Why are you calling me a squash?”

“It's a form of endearment! I er- I think?”

Turning, He rolled his eyes. Oh great. Someone else who was annoying- Though… He looked.. different today. His hair was pushed back and shiney, probably with gel. He had that hideous footwear on again too, but now he was wearing a half opened blue palm tree shirt with parrots and coconuts on it. For a moment he was going to question why his shirt was half undone but saw him quickly trying to finish buttoning it up.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

“H-hi” His friend stuttered, trying to stay focused on his buttons and not the fact River was in a two piece and a small cover up tied around her waist.

“What's the rush? You act like you don't want me seeing you.”

“Oh n-No! Nothing like that! Not at all I just thought-”

River leaned in close to his face, that same smirk plastered onto her lips.

“You thought you wanted to make me work for it… Didn't you? Want me to rip it off with my teeth? You naughty boy.”

“I-..” The Doctor swallowed, looking as if he malfunctioned, like a restarting cellphone.

The Master made a fake gagging noise, rolling his eyes even harder as he pointed into his mouth.

“I thought I told you not to be rude?” Was the first thing the restarted phone said once it finished rebooting. Being scolded felt nice. All eyes in the room on him.

“What? I didn't even say anything this time.” He teased.

River smiled wider, fondly shaking her head as she handed him the small Rainbow clicky key chain. It was shaped like a slug and when you shook it, it made noise and moved in a slithering motion.

“You open that box, and it's yours, sweetie.”

“Why are you calling him sweetie?” He asked, stepping forward as If wanting attention too but she ignored him for now. She watched with a pleased grin as he took the box, looking at it, shaking it next to his ear.

“What is it?”

“Spoilers.”

“.. I hate when you say that..”

“I know. I've been having some trouble with it. The box I mean” She explains, her boyfriend now cocking a brow, pouting that the Master was getting more attention then him. If he knew one thing about River, it's that his dear Melody would never give a box to a man if she had trouble opening it. She'd just blow the lock off with one of her fancy guns.

“No you're no-”

She kissed him, grabbing his bow tie and staining his lips that bright red that she wore often. During their kiss, one of his once flat hairs stuck up, flopping over into his face.

Pulling away, he took a breath, baffled at what in the world was going on.

Completely ignoring this, as this was common whenever River came by, The Master was sitting on the floor, shoving One of the dozen keys into the hole, jiggling them around, cursing under his breath whenever they didn't work. Blinking, The Doctor smiled seeing how entertained he was, leaning in close to the woman. “What actually is in that box, River?”

“Oh you two are so much alike. Too curious for your own good.”

“What? No. We're nothing alike.”

“Yes we are. I've been saying this for eons.” the man on the floor muttered, Putting his arms up in triumph as he got the right key out of the dozen.

“What is it?” The Doctor asks, trying to peer over his shoulder.

“It's mine, that's what!” He says, taking out a box all taped up in clear cellophane but he could see the label, grinning widely to himself, keeping it close so the Doctor couldn't see. He knew he'd want to take it away. River was always bringing him treats. As many times as she made him gag, he always knew that her heels meant something good.

Glancing at River with those big puppy eyes, she giggled, taking his arm as she whispered to him. “It's a knife.”

“A what?! Why would you give him that!? You know he's-”

“Ooh hush. Let him have some fun.”

“If by fun you mean killing your parents and possibly me then sure- River why would you-”

She kissed him again.

“Mh- Thank you but you can't just keep-”

And again.

“River!” He whined

And another.

By now, he's learned not to speak or else she'd kiss him a fourth time just to shut him up. Not like it was a bad thing but he really was concerned.

“There's a good boy. Now. Is operation cat-astrophe still happening?”

For a moment or two, he seemed confused until she put her head towards the Master in which he gasped, nodding. “Oh Yes!”

“I see that Door is a check.” She mumbles, remembering how quickly he came when the door was opened.

“We're working on that. Clicky treats is a go I suppose?”

“Mmmhm. You should have seen how happy he was to see me.”

“Good good.. Just wished you would've chosen a different gift..”

“Just watch And see, sweetheart. Goodness so impatient.” She whispered.

During this conversation, nothing else mattered to the Master except biting and tearing through these 10 layers of tape. Growling, he was becoming a bit frustrated, but it only seemed to make him work harder at it, sticking out his tongue for maximum brain operation.

“Oh I love when he makes that face.”

“What face??”

“With his tongue? It's like you and your glasses.”

“What? No-”

“Yes.”

“AHA!!” He had finally ripped open the box, giggling to himself as he took his prize, quickly running off, probably to go attempt a murder.

“Hm. Well that lasted about 5 minutes…”

“How long do you think until he realizes it's bio locked?” She whispered, smirking like ever.

Staring at her, The Doctors grin grew. “Aahh I see.. you..”

“Mhm.”

“So that-”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“Yup.. aannnd here he comes.” She could hear the incoming jingling from his bell serving it's purpose.

Coming back to them both, he was pissed. He had just tried to stab Amy and nothing happened, The blade just went inside like one of those cheap toys from the supermarket. He felt the blade. It was real, not plastic, So why wasn't it working? It wasn't fair.

“What did you do to my knife!?”

“Whatever do you mean, Pumpkin?”

“Stop calling me a squash you witch! I can't stab anybody! What kind of present is that!?”

“Did you try stabbing… Things?” River says, raising her brows in a pleased, smugness.

“Things?” Pausing for a few seconds, He soon got the biggest shit eating grin, Running away a second time. Moments later, they heard a crash, laughing, and a loud “Hey!!”

The Doctor blinked. “...He just broke your mothers vase..”

“It was a hideous vase.”

“River!”

“What? Now come on. We have some more training to do.”

Later, after the Master destroyed exactly 3 ceramic things, stabbed the table to death, ripped up all Rory's pillows, and used his new toy to cut up some cheese as a snack, He now was curious about the door again.

Sneaking towards it and looking outside like a cat that wanted to go out but was nervous he'd get scolded, he watched as the Doctor set up lounge chairs and towels on the beach.

Again the heels. Part of him became excited. He liked that clicking- But why? Since when did he like River?? He didn't. He didn't like anyone on this damned ship that he was prisoner to.

“Hi cupcake. You wanna go outside sweetpea?”

His eyebrows scrunched. “I'm not a baked goods… Or a flower. Are you insulting me?”

“Terms of endearment, dear. Remember? Anyway, Let's say you and me go outside hm?”

He looked at her with hesitance. She was being suspicious… He wasn't allowed outside. What was this? Some sort of test? Fine. He'd play their game.

“No… I'm not allowed outside.”

“Aww why not?”

“Cause..??” Was she stupid? Prisoners weren't allowed to leave. That's the whole point of his cuffs And collar. Kept on an invisible, metaphorical leash at all times.

“Well… The Doctor and I are going to sit on the beach. Do you want to come?”

The light in his eyes alone was enough to make River want to hug him to bits. Why were Time Lords so cute? Was it some sort of defense mechanism? Or was it the Feline Virus thing the Doctor told her about lingering in his genetic code?

Starting to nod, he quickly stopped, now playing with his hands. “no.. I'll get in trouble..” and just like that, that light died so soon. So short lived. Frowning, she almost felt pitiful for him. “That is true… but wait! Have you ever tried.. you know.. asking?”

“A-asking to go outside..?”

“Yes.”

“He'll just say no. Every time I get out, I get in trouble.”

“But did you ask?”

Poking his fingers together, he made a sound that sounded uncertain. It broke her heart. Now she was going to scold her husband.

“Alright.. well.. if you want to come join us outside, All you have to do is ask. Mkay?”

And she took off her heels, setting them up on the TARDIS dash only to walk out barefoot, the red sands making footprints as she went.

Standing at the door, now he was really unsure. This felt like a trap.. why would she tease him with freedom like that? Why would she give him a knife? And for the love of god- Why did he get excited when he heard her heels clicking on the TARDIS floor?

Slowly, he peeks his head out of the TARDIS, looking around the planet, The sky, the waves, the footprints she left.

“Hey!” Becoming startled, he jumped a bit, ducking back into the blue box. He wasn't entirely sure if these cuffs would electrocute him if he left or not.. even though Amy joked about them being shock bracelets… The Doctor couldn't do that..

Right?

“Do you want a Jelly worm?!” This was shouted from about 50 feet away by a man with his shirt half unbuttoned, holding a bag of candies while River slathered sunscreen all over him.

“I think theyre called Gummy worms, dear.” She mumbled.

“I'm certain they're called jelly worms.”

“Oh yeah? Read the package.”

Looking at the pack, He pouted. “Jelly worms sound cooler.”

Blinking, The Master wondered if he was talking to him or someone else.

“Me?”

“Yeah! You want a ‘Gummy worm'?!”

“What’s a gummy worm?! Can... I come outside?” This was asked in speaking tone rather then a shout.

“What!?”

“What's a gum-! You know what.. nevermind.” he mumbled, frowning as he stepped a foot on the sand, wincing, expecting his wrists to send electromagnetic shocks through his arms. But nothing happened.

Discovering this, he ran out of the TARDIS, circling round it before coming towards the other two, grinning.

“What's a gummy worm?”

“Its a jelly worm.”

“Oh! Yeah. Gummy Worm sounds stupid.”

He mumbled, being given a few of the candies. Glancing at River, The Doctor had a smug look, wiggling his eyebrows at her as she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” He shoved one in his mouth. “I think-” another “-they're called jelly worms.” A third one.

“That's what I said! See?”

“Everyone else calls them Gummy worms because they're made with xanthan gum.”

“Like Xanax?”

“What!? No!” She laughed. “Goodness. You had some fun as Prime Minister didn't you?”

“What's Xanax?? Is that a fancy drink?” The Doctor asked, shoving some worms in his mouth as the two looked at each other as if mentally playing rock paper scissors to see which unlucky soul got to teach the Doctor about recreational drugs.

“Seeya-” He said, taking off.

“Ah you gotta be kitten me.” She smirks and the Doctor gives her a look as if to say ‘Really?’ Only to giggle too.

“That's just claw-ful!”

River gave a chuckle before sighing.

“Well.. looks like it's just you and me, sweetheart..”

“Fur-ever?” He held out his pinky, smirking as he raised his eyebrows a few times. River giggled, rolling her eyes only to take the pinky, bringing the intertwined fingers up to her lips.

“Fur-ever. Till the end?”

“Until the end of time and more, my darling.” He would never be able to forget her.. not ever. How could he?

A few times, The Master would run away, doing circles, Zoomies as river called it but never seemed to get too far from the TARDIS, returning when offered more Jelly worms, each time recieving a praise and a snack for coming back to them.

Now he was becoming bored of the laps, even going as far as putting his toes curiously into the ocean, realizing that it was warm. Like a water bottle left out in the sun. This displeased him. He was already hot from his laps around the beach, he didn't want hot water all over his body. Hot was an understatement. If it were hot like the baths he'd not mind but it was the gross kind of warm. The kind that felt yucky on your skin. God he hated water..

It was then he realized that outside of the TARDIS he had free will, coming over to lift the Doctor's chair, dumping him over only to run away, manically laughing, giggling almost.

“What the-!?”

“Catch me if you dare!” He yelled, Dashing off, further and further away. A rush of adrenaline and freedom taking over him. This seemed like the start of a fun game… that was until he had run so far that he was panting and the TARDIS looked like a tiny dot from here.

Where was everyone on this planet anyway? He'd come all this way and not seen a single person. Not a hint of a town, and definitely not a city. Part of him cursed the Doctor for taking him to a deserted solar system with no one to play with- and on top of that, For not chasing after him. He knew how this game worked, didn't he? One ran, the other chased. It's been like this for thousands of years.

So why not now? Was it because of that woman? The daughter of Amelia Pond? This still confused him greatly. He understood the concept of time travel, duh, but what confused him is why her parents would let her marry A dingus like the Doctor. I mean really? Why did she lower her standards?*

Eventually, curiosity killed the cat. He ran as far as he could, trying to find any forms of life, only finding himself alone. Completely and utterly abandoned it seemed. This puzzled him. Why would the Doctor want to come here? There was nothing but a waste land of sand.

Later, When he came back into the TARDIS painting, sweating, and whining from all that walking and running. He shut the door, collapsing on the floor as he laid there, feeling her cool air coming up from the grates and her cold metal against his skin.

Just because Gallifreyans were resistant to heat didn't mean that going out in the blazing sun with a black hoodie was a good idea. Especially not when there wasn't anywhere to go. Not even a tree in sight.

“Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in.” The curly haired woman says, Smiling as she sat next to the Doctor on the torn up sofa that they apparently had moved into the TARDIS control room. (For whatever reason)

They probably had just finished kissing (or got interrupted) seeing as there was lipstick smeared over the Doctors lips and he doubted heavily that the doctor applied it himself… He wasn't THAT much of an idiot… He knew how to appropriately apply lipstick.. even he knew that.

“Why didn't you tell me there wasn't anything out there!?”

“We figured you'd find out for yourself sooner or later” The Doctor says, Scooting over, Trying to wipe the lipstick off of him only to smear it onto his hand and cuff.

“Who's we? Come're baabbyyy” River coed, putting her arms out to him.

Without a second to think about it, he began to scramble over to her only, crawling the few feet only to stop dead in his tracks. What the fuck was he doing? And why?

Sure he's laid between them multiple times to purposely frustrate them, but now it seemed as if they were welcoming him with literal open arms. Why? Cocking a brow, He himself was now frustrated, why were they being so… Kind.. to him? For what? His thinking soon sufficed when called for again.

“Come on. Come to mommy. What did that mean man do to you, hm?” She coed.

“I am not! He's just… bad!”

“Oh he's not bad! He's bored.”

"Yeah! There's a difference!" He awnsered And just like that, in her lap he went, being sure to push the Doctor away from her with his feet, trying to be a menace as much as possible, laying his head in her lap as he stared up at her. Petting his head, she giggled, talking to him further to make him feel pampered and praised. If there was one thing she knew, The Master adored being worshipped and given attention. Ignoring him made things 10 times worse, so she's learned that if she petted him long enough he would go to sleep and she could talk to her dear husband some more before the little gremlin woke up.

“What did he do, hm?? So cruel. Leaving you out there all alone?” River smirked as he already was droopy lidded, nodding softly along with the words.

“I did not. It's his fault for running off.”

“Oooh he's done nothing wrong.”

“... It's really hard to teach him when you keep enabling him, love..”

“That's why it's called Paw-sitive reinforcement, Doctor.” She said this in a sing-songy voice, Letting him get comfy as he turned over, Subconsciously nuzzling up to her hands and stomach.

Truth be told, he could care less what they were talking about right now. He was far too tired to listen to them bicker, using it as white noise, hoping it would drown out the drums that pounded in his head every waking moment of existence.

While they were faint, they were still there. At the back of his mind, like trying to smash through a 2 foot thick wall of ice, bound to break eventually, but right now, they gave him comfort. A constant reminder of who he was and that if anything was real? It was the pounding.

The warmth of her hands also gave him comfort, running her pointed red nails through his bleached blonde and trailing up and down his back through his hoodie.

A few minutes pass and the Doctor is now staring at them with a fond look, a shallow pang of jealousy but he wasn't sure about who. He was jealous of River for being able to get HIS best friend so cuddly and he was jealous of the master for cuddling up to HIS wife. It made him want to take him from her, put him on his lap and let him sleep there instead, but also shove him off the couch and take his place. God this was so difficult. How did humans do this relationship thing? It was so… annoying yet.. wonderful! He wouldn't change it for the world. He was so sleepy and… beautiful.

“You're staring sweetie..”

The voice echoed through his brain once, then twice before he looked up. “Huh?”

“You're staring again… Don't worry. You'll get your turn.”

“When?”

“Oooh so impatient.”

“No I mean- I.. When can I hold him?”

Her eyes widened, not aware that she had been hogging, let alone that he would want a turn at all. “Well… You can have him now if you'd like.”

“I..” Man this was embarrassing. “I think I'd like that.”

Carefully, They moved him from one lap to another, Which at first led to a protest of whining and gentle clawing**, Assuming he was falling off the couch.

“Shh shh shh. No honey. You're okay. You're just fine.” She whispered, pulling his hands away, trying to keep him from sitting up by putting her hand up under the thick sweater, scratching his back ever so gently the way he enjoyed before.

Letting out a sigh of relief, His shoulders dropped, curling up the way he liked in the Doctor's lap instead, a deep rumbling beginning from him. “.. He's so tired..”

“From all that running around, probably.” She whispered, enjoying his purring.

“No.. He's exhausted. His last regeneration went a bit..wonky. I don't even know if….If..” He trailed off, the way he did when he wanted to stop talking about something instead of when he forgot what he was saying.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Snickering, He shook his head. “No... I just.. even Time Lords can only take so much and..”

River knew. He watched him die. He burnt his body. He gave him a proper death ***ceremony- well.. about as proper as you could without others knowing.

“So it's a good thing you're taking care of him. Isn't it?”

“That's the thing. It's not that he can't do it himself, it's just that.. He's reckless..”

“Oh and I suppose we aren't?”

“River.. I don't.. I thought I was the last one for so long. I..” He took a breath, swallowing. She could see the pain and fear in his eyes.

“I can't go back to that.. Hell. For the last few months, I've been spraying him with-”

“Doctor..” She muttered a warning, noticing that the purring had stopped, but he continued.

“Catmint tea just so he'd calm down enough to-”

“You've been spraying me WITH TEA!? THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”

The woman smiled innocently, seeing the murderous glares.

“Whoops! Cats out of the bag.”

“River-! Not now!”

*just wait until he finds out she married Jack Harkness while he had the doctor caged up LOL

** clutching/ trying to hold on, he does not have retractable nails.

*** Like Torvic's. Thats why it hurt so bad.

[myheadhurtscutely]

With the Band -Rocker!Anakin Skywalker x Reader-

First fic, kinda nervous (>ლ)

C ` Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary ` Anakin, your not boyfriend, boyfriend, has been touring around the area lately, and for some reason he seems like he just can't not have all eyes (and hands) on him..

!Warnings! ` Manipulation, Toxic!Anakin, Gaslighting, Love bombing, anakin just being an asshole in general. Cheating?? kinda. ANGST ANGST ANGST, tiny like smut references??

word count ` 1.6k

You guys weren't a thing. You knew that. He definitely made sure you knew that. You were his thing though. You knew that just as clearly.

Anakin had been touring for about three weeks now. His band was still stumbling through here and there, small faults, technical issues, band arguments. You saw it all. You had been there since day one. In highschool Anakin had made up his band consisting of Obi, his bassist. He was a shy kinda guy, didn't say much, but when he did it was nice to hear. His drummer- well nevermind his drummer changed every few weeks. Anakin was as stubborn as he was handsome. He saw it as His band, Obi was the only one who could tolerate his attitude. Anakin of course took the role of lead vocalist AND guitarist.

You had tried to join your freshman year of college as the guitarist, but your best friend, Anakin Skywalker, was just trying to help poor little you stay safe and focused on school. He told you he didn't want grubby hands thinking about you, and perverted eyes, feeling you up. You were just a girl. He made sure you understood. You were reasonably upset by this, but Ani fixed that after a couple of after show parties in the basements of venues... more specifically, the bathrooms.

It started as just a onetime thing. Both of you were intoxicated and you did what two friends, who have had undeniable chemistry since highschool after some alcohol and bud, do. Hook-up. It really was just flings here and there, Anakin bombed a test? Your phone would light up. 'hey r u busy rn?' Sure, you had an eight-page paper due by tomorrow, but yeah besides that you were free. free use. Anakin's drummer he got last Tuesday cussed him out and left? Ding! 'i need you rn'. You couldn't deny you're closest friend comfort. It was a vicious cycle. You felt awful, you really did. It was like you knew what he was doing, but you felt like there was no way out.. besides, he needed you. He also needed the 18 other girls around campus that rotated shifts in his bed when he wasn't playing gigs. But he told you, you were special, he meant it surely.

This night was special. It was the BIG gig. It was in the middle of the tour, the largest number of tickets sold at one of the biggest venues they could book. It was downtown at one of the smaller stages meant for local artist, but it was right next to the college nearby. Prime market. young women. pretty girls. desperate college chicks. Anakin knew what he was after by the end of this show, but you follow him obliviously up the stairs with your "v.i.p." pit pass behind him. Your already ripped stockings tearing on the metal fencing up the stairs. Anakin only hauled his guitar, refusing to help Obi and you carry any of the sound equipment. It's okay though, it's just cause he's hungover and his throats a little sore. Obi-wan grunts, hauling literally everything known to man, amps, cords, a random bass drum? Probably belonging to the drummer that left this past Friday. You held drinks, bags, clothes, food, and some lighting equipment. Anakin insisted on a fog machine also, which conveniently got left at home two hours away. God bless you Obi.

You dropped your stuff and rushed to give Anakin a peck on the cheek, which he quickly dismissed annoyedly. 'He's probably just stressed out,' you fought in an attempt to reason with yourself. After giving Obi-wan a thumbs up and a wishful good luck, you are quickly rushed off the wings of the stage, to the back of the pit. What the fuck? You could b a r e l y see the rail at the front of the stage through the sea of crappy highlights, and slutty tops. Oh well, lights come up, Anakins standing there, soaking up all of it. The attention, the lights, the sounds, the attention, the crowd, the attention, the attention, the attention. Excitement boiled in your stomach. Seeing him in his white tank top, stained with god knows what. His box bleached frosted tips at the very edges of his grown out hair. Sweaty and shiny from the lights, he was a sight to behold. An image to have every man and woman on their knees begging for a peek. You and Anakin knew that.

The set started out with his earlier tracks inspired by the likes of deftones and superhaven. His sweat dripped down from his chin, to his angular neck. His adams apple dancing with the runs erupting from his vocals. No one could admire him as deeply as you did. No one could appreciate his stage presence the way you did. Like the way the spotlight, contrasted harshly with his tanned skin, highlighting his carved cheeks and white teeth.

As he continued, you began to push your way to the front, fighting as if it was a ragging mosh pit at a Victoria's Secret perfume clearance sale. Clouds of vapor and smoke raised high creating Anakin's own fog machine. Second hand highs at these shows were a guarantee. Still pushing past sweaty bodies, with heavy drums and piercing guitar pounding in your ears, you slowly became disoriented. It was as if it was all hitting you, the meds were wearing off or something. you were suffocating, drowning in a large sea, with your only chance of safety just a few inches ahead.

You grab the rail.

Consciousness is regained and so is your composure. Smeared sweaty make up, clouds your vision, but you saw. You saw clear as day. He had leaned down from the stage and kissed her. Kissed her. Right on the lips. This was his song about you. You were the one with the beautiful eyes he sang about. You were the one he made listen to the strumming pattern of it till you could recite it like a scale. It was yours. For once it was yours. From him.

Glitter rained into your watery eyes, what a poor style choice. If only you would've known he'd kiss a beautiful brunette girl halfway through his set, you probably would've chosen a more neutral palette. Chasing whatever air remained in the world, you gasped, running out from the exit doors. It was already late. The only light illuminating onto your back was the exit sign and a streetlamp on the other side of the alley. The bands van was parked crookedly in a nook between the garbage cans and the dented fire hydrant. locked. Yay! and it was raining. You started to think that maybe you were in a dramatic romance novel. The rain really was just unnecessary. Regardless, you rampaged back into the back door, left unlocked in case of a fire. Storming up the steps, you could hear the unplugging of a turned on amp, causing a shrill amongst the chatty, squealing crowd. Anakin's figure became visible from the wings, Obi-wan following in after him. Without a thought going through your mind, you ran right up to him and slapped his chest. His head snapped in your direction, with his attention previously being on the cheering crowd behind him.

"Hey! What the fuck is your problem?" His arms throw themselves up in frustration.

"Don't play dumb with me, you fucking kissed her! You kissed her Anakin? You, you said that wouldn't happen." Your voice quivered as he mumbled, guiding the both of you out the door and into the rain, away from the scene you had just caused backstage.

His arms swarm you like an unwelcome crowd of bats. clouding your vision. In more ways than one. You thrashed but only for a second before completely crumbling in the man's arms. Sobs stained his disgusting tank top. Your cries drowned by the leaving crowd at the front of the building, and the heavy downpour casting you and Anakin in your own little shell.

"You know better than to expect me not to push the bands publicity. It might be better for you just to stay backstage from now on. Or go stay with one of your other guys when I do shows." How did his snide words warm you so sincerely...? He was right though. You knew better. You couldn't be upset; it was for the band. After he made it big, he'd be yours and yours alone. You knew the deal.

"m' sorry Ani, I just-"

"Don't call me that right now. You hurt my goddamn feelings." He shoves you away from his chest. "I was having a great show and then you came backstage screaming at me, putting on a pathetic show like always." He knew where to plant his knife and how to dig it around inside you. It cut you up completely. Every time.

You couldn't do anything but sob. Every show you'd go into it expecting a different outcome. You were the stupid one. You were the idiot. It was your fault. He was right and you knew it. There was nothing you could say to combat it. You just cried.

He paused for a moment. The both of you standing in the pouring rain. You, staring at the ground as he watched the rain fall. "fuck.." you could hear him curse under his breath.

"I'm sorry Anakin. really." He said nothing, dragging you back into his chest, kissing your forehead, swaying the both of you back and forth. His wet hair, dripping onto your nose after he pulls away slightly.

"Look at me," he takes your cheeks in his hands, "It's gonna be okay, just try to be better for me next time 'kay?" He finishes it off with a soft kiss to your puffed and dry lips.

"I love you." He hums in a lack of response.

Notes ` first fic, longer than i meant it to be, proof read before bed, so barely, thank youu <3 (hell if its anakin skywalker i will let him act this way, sure young man, be outta pocket..)

[total-lost-boys-simp]

Water Might be Thicker Than Blood

The Lost Boys x Fém! Reader

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

Let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

Day turned into night.

(Y/N) and her family spent the rest of their time on the beach and at the boardwalk. Michael was probably looking for music stores or shops that sold parts for his off-roading bike, Sam was probably just following him like a lost puppy. (Y/N) stayed with Lucy thinking it’d be the smarter option. While walking around (Y/N) noticed all of the missing posters stacked over one another on walls and powerlines. Most of the people in the posters were just teenagers, with a few adults. Before she could look at them anymore her attention was taken by a little boy in the middle of the walk way calling out,

“Mom! Mom! I can’t find my Mom!”

Lucy walked ahead of (Y/N) and up to the boy, asking, “What the matter? Are you lost?”

(Y/N) grabbed the boy’s hand and assured him, “Don’t worry little dude, let’s go find your mom.”

As she said those words she met the eyes of four tall strangers heading into a video store. There was an off putting feeling as they all gazed in her direction. Lucy started walking the same way they did into the video store. (Y/N) followed suit with the small child still in hand.

“Excuse me, I wonder if you could help us,” Lucy asked, getting the attention of the store clerk, “This little boy is lost and we were wondering if his mother might be in here?”

“Well, I don’t really know…” The tall man in glasses started.

Just then a woman came running in frantically, “Terry! I was so worried. Don’t run off, Terry,” she bawled as she knelt down hugging the boy.

“There you are,” hummed the clerk as he handed the boy a lollipop.

(Y/N) slightly tuned out for a bit during that whole debacle as she started watching the guys from earlier roam around the shop. There’s just something about them…

“And you, young lady?” The clerk asked as he held a lollipop to (Y/N)’s face.

“Oh yeah, sure… thanks.” she muttered as she took it.

The clerk wasn’t paying her much attention as he looked above her and bellowed, “I told you not to come in here anymore.”

(Y/N) whipped around now seeing the four strangers right behind her. They averted their gaze from the clerk and down to her. Their most noticeable features were their hair. One with a platinum blonde almost white, the next dawning straight dark brown hair to his shoulders, after him was a dirty blonde who looked like he was in a metal band, finally there was the shorter of the four who had a goldendoodle type of mullet. (Y/N) averted her eyes, turning back around to her mother as the boys left.

“Hey mom, I think I’m going to go for a walk,” (Y/N) said.

“Okay sweetie, just meet me back at the car,” Lucy said as she hugged her daughter.

(Y/N) walked out of the video store seeing the four guys hop on their bikes.

“You coming?” Shouted the dirty blonde rocker.

“Who, me?” (Y/N) questioned, pointing to herself.

“Yeah you!” Shouted the short curly one.

“I don’t even know you guys!” She retorted as she stepped a little closer

“Then get to know us!” The dirty blonde came again.

“...I don’t know anyone in this damned town so why not,” (Y/N) murmured as she walked up to the rocker’s bike, throwing her leg over the seat and gripping his waist.

“Hold on!” He teased as they all kicked up their bike stands.

“For wha-?” (Y/N) didn’t even finish her sentence as they zipped off at what felt like the speed of light.

For quite a few minutes they rode through the boardwalk. (Y/N)’s hair wisped around her face and flew back behind her. The cold air from the ride felt like the refreshment she needed in this unfamiliar place. She tightened her grip on her steel horse cowboy as they rounded corners and leapt off speed bumps. He always laughed in response before shouting and yelling with his friends. Finally the group stopped at a red barred fence. (Y/N) tried to regain her balance as she hopped off the bike, her legs feeling weak after the ride. The tall brunette of the group caught her by the waist before she tripped over her own two feet.

“Careful,” He said before letting her stand on her own.

“Thanks…” (Y/N) trailed, not knowing his name.

The platinum blonde stepped forward pointing out, “Dwayne, Paul, Marko,” pointing to the one who just caught her, then the one who she rode here with, and finally the one with the curly hair she kept looking back at on the ride here.

“Ah right, and you are?” She asked, wanting to know the name of her final captor.

“David,” He said as he tried to light a cigarette.

“Here,” (Y/N) said as she grabbed his hands, cupping them around the rolled paper then flicking open the zippo to burn the stick, “The wind will draw the flame away.”

David inhaled then exhaled before saying, “Thanks.”

“So little lady, what brought you to Santa Carla?” Marko asked, biting his thumb while leaning against his bike.

“Divorce,” (Y/N) answered as she crossed her arms.

“Shit, you’re divorced? You don’t look that old,” Paul said before letting out a cackle.

(Y/N) turned to the blonde in the fishnet top, “Not me, my parents….”

“Alright alright, just messin’,” He threw his hands up, “Why’d they divorce?”

“I…” She started but didn’t finish.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dwayne interjected, noticing her discomfort.

“Thanks, it’s still a new subject for me”

“Anyways, Stars coming,” David said, stomping out his cigarette before getting on his bike, the others following suit.

“Who’s Star?” (Y/N) asked.

“That’s Star,” Paul said, pointing behind (Y/N) towards said ‘Star’

As (Y/N) turned around, she instantly knew who they were talking about. A girl stood out from the crowd; she was thin and enchanting. Her long curly brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, bouncing and wisping in the cool night air. Her purple jeweled maxi skirt sparkled and glimmered against the lights of the boardwalk.

“She’s beautiful…” (Y/N) said in awe.

“Jealous?” Asked Marko before letting out a small laugh and a big grin.

Not even looking away from Star, (Y/N) said, “The opposite actually…”

“Come with us?” Asked David, though it felt like more of a demand than a query.

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t-“ Dwayne started but was quickly cut off by-

“Ahhh lame! C’mon girl!” Paul shouted as he jumped up and down on the seat of his motorcycle.

“Really, I would but I don’t want to worry my mom,” (Y/N) said before turning around.

When she turned to walk away she was met by amber brown eyes and a citrine tan.

“I- I…uh…I have- Hi..” (Y/N) failed to form even a sentence in front of the gorgeous woman before her.

Star was such a fitting name for someone who glows with such a luminous complexion.

Said woman looked her up and down with a despondent expression, “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Okay, look guys I really have to go but maybe I can see you again tomorrow? Same spot?” (Y/N) suggested as she started backing away from the group.

“We better see you here,” David demanded, helping Star onto the bike.

“Or what?” (Y/N) laughed at David’s words.

“Or we’re coming for ya,” Marko hissed as he squeezed the clutches of his bike.

“Tempting, we’ll see what happens,” (Y/N) decreed as she ran away.

As she ran away she could hear the roar of the motorcycles speed off behind her. (Y/N) halted her jog at the main entrance of the boardwalk.

“(Y/N)? What’re you doing with those guys?” Asked Sam as he spotted his sister.

“None of your business boy wonder,” (Y/N) cackled as she pulled her little brother into a headlock.

“You shouldn’t be hanging out with them,” Michael criticized his sister's new acquaintances.

(Y/N) looked over at her older brother, “Oh shut it Mikey, let’s just find mom…”

“Seriously (Y/N) they look like bad news!” Sam shouted, just watching out for his older sister.

Laughing, (Y/N) asked,“Shouldn’t it be me telling you two to stay out of trouble?” finding her brothers’ protective attitudes to be all too funny.

The ride ‘home’ wasn’t anything exciting, two out of three kids were absolutely shlumped and resting their heads on the window. Even in her tired state though (Y/N) should make out a small conversation happening between her mom & Michael. It sounded like a debate on whether or not he’d quit school and start working to help support the family…obviously Lucy was against it. (Y/N) tuned out the rest until they got back to their grandpa’s house. “Wake up guys, we’re here…get some rest in your new rooms,” Lucy said in a kind and quiet voice.

Laying in bed, all (Y/N) could think about was the group of chaotic boys she met tonight. How she didn’t really have time to think about anything going on in her life while she was with them. Everything was just a complete carefree joy ride even if it was just for a short couple of hours. Withe the way things have been (Y/N) wishes everyday of her life could be like that.

The next day wasn’t anything crazy (Y/N) finished unpacking her boxes. Putting up posters on walls, books on shelves, clothes in the closet, and finally she got to the small shoe box full of pictures. Some of them were of her and her friends and a couple with her partner…a total backstabbing jerk. They weren’t willing to do long distance even if they could see each other on school breaks, they said it’d be too draining so they broke up with (Y/N). The next day (Y/N) caught them kissing her best friend.

“Total prick,” (Y/N) said as she picked up the picture box and walked it downstairs. Shouting she said, “Hey grandpa!”

“Yeah kiddo?” Grandpa said as he peeked his head out from his taxidermy room.

“Uh…do you have a fireplace?” (Y/N) asked, still a little weirded out by her grandfather’s hobbies.

“I do but you ain’t usin’ it, too damn hot up here for that,” Grandpa said before shutting his doubled sliding doors.

“Okay then…” She said as she walked back upstairs.

An hour or so passed when (Y/N) got a knock on her door from her little brother. “Hey, I’m going to the boardwalk, wanna come?”

Looking up at her brother (Y/N) asked, “How’re we gonna get there?”

“Drive?” Sam said with a big grin on his face.

“That’s the real reason you want me to go with you, huh?” (Y/N) laughed.

“Well yeah, mom already left for that new job of hers.”

“Then why didn’t you just get a ride with her?”

“And get up at seven in the morning?! No way!” Same shouted.

“Okay, okay fine, jeez…” (Y/N) said as she got out of bed.

The two out of three siblings ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hey grandpa we’re taking the Harvester to the boardwalk!” (Y/N) shouted. Grandpa poked his head out of his ‘laboratory’ but before he could say anything (Y/N) blurted, “I swear we’ll put gas in it, okay bye!” and ran out the door with Sam in toe.

“You made any friends down here yet?” (Y/N) asked her little brother as they drove down the streets of Santa Carla

“Not really, just some weirdos at a comic shop,” He said as he looked out the side of the old military truck.

“I’m starting to think this town is nothing but weirdos,” (Y/N) laughed as she stopped the truck in a parking lot.

“What, like the ones you were with last night?” Said taunted his older sister.

“They weren’t weirdos,” (Y/N) scoffed as she parked the old truck.

“Were too! You just wanted to make out with them so bad you didn't notice!” Sam whined as he hopped out of the truck.

“Okay Stripesy, why don’t you go to your little comic store friends,” (Y/N) before parting ways with her brother at the boardwalk.

As she walked away she could hear her little brother shout, “They’re not my friends!”

(Y/N) spent most of the daytime playing games and going on rides, She can confidently say that the mini-golf here was better than the one at Golf n’ Stuff back in Phoenix… mostly because it wasn't outside in the scorching sun. Speaking of the sun, (Y/N) took this chance to sit on the beach and watch the sun lower itself over the horizon. I guess I could get use to this she thought as she held her knees to her chest. Once it was a little darker (Y/N) headed over to the video store figuring she could catch Lucy at the end of her shift.

Coming up on the store, (Y/N) poked her head into the entrance but before she could greet her mom she was met by the sight of her flirting with her new boss… whatever his name was. That suit-wearing-hipster-asshole! (Y/N) knows her mom and dad were in anything but a happy marriage but to see her flirting with someone else so soon? Before she knew it (Y/N) had tears coming down her eyes. In a fit of silent rage she ran away from the store and all the way down the boardwalk to the red gates where she was the night before.

Sometime must’ve past while (Y/N) sat there on the ground crying once she heard the motorcycles roar their way up to the fence. They came screeching to a halt when Paul shouted, “Hey move out- oh it’s the chick from the other night.”

“Oh hey, sorry,” (Y/N) said as she dried her face and stood up.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Asked Marko as he jumped off his bike.

“It’s just family stuff, sort of,” (Y/N) answered as she leaned against the fence.

“I’m going for a walk, do you want to come with? To get your mind off of things?” Asked Star as she stood in front of (Y/N)

With a smile on her face (Y/N) said, “No, I think I’ll stay behind but thanks Star…”

Star gave (Y/N) a look of sympathy before disappearing into the crowd.

“So…” Marko said, realizing neither him nor any of the boys knew the name of the girl standing with them.

“(Y/N),” she responded.

“So (Y/N) what do you want to do?” Marko went back to his question.

“I’m not sure really, I was thinking about other things so much that I didn’t really come up with anything,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“Let’s walk,” Dwayne suggested, his voice had an asserting tone but not as intense as David’s.

Letting out a small laugh (Y/N) said, “Yeah, I could go for a good walk right now.”

Just as the group was about to start walking around David threw (Y/N) his long black coat leaving him with a worn down leather jacket and a black crew shirt.

“You don’t need this?” (Y/N) asked, the answer was pretty obvious.

“You looked cold,” David said, not even looking over at (Y/N) as he tried to light the cigarette between his lips.

“I didn’t feel cold,” (Y/N) responded, lightly taunting the scruffy bleach blonde.

“Just keep it on,” David demanded.

Before any major fun happened Dwayne had introduced (Y/N) to the youngest member of the gang, Laddie. A small and shy little boy, he kind of reminded (Y/N) of Sam when he was that age. The two didn’t talk much but throughout the night he opened up a little going as far as to walk next to (Y/N) when the group was aimlessly moving through the crowds at the boardwalk.

The group walked around for a bit playing some stall games along the boardwalk and visiting the various tourist shops. At various times some of the boys would leave to do whatever, sometimes saying they were “Gonna go grab a bite”. The group settled back at the bikes, talking, laughing, just hanging out. While talking to Marko (Y/N) caught sight of two very familiar figures.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, rolling her eyes

“Huh, what’s up?” Marko asked, à confused look on his face.

“My brother, that’s him over there with Star, no doubt he’s whipped already,” (Y/N) laughed as she leaned against the red fence.

“If that’s your brother then we should go say hello,” David insisted to the group.

Before she knew it all the boys were on their bikes, Dwayne pulling Laddie up onto his. “You should get on,” Marko suggested to (Y/N). Figuring what was about to happen she complied and swung her leg over the back of Marko’s bike before he revved it. With all said & done David smudged out his cigarette and the group rode over to where Michael & Star were.

Once the group got up to the couple it was an entirely different atmosphere. More taunting & menacing, nothing like the playful and carefree night (Y/N) was having just minutes ago. The boys surrounded Michael blocking any sort of way he had to get out on his red off-roader. That’s when he saw her, his own little sister, with these assholes?! What the hell was she thinking? Michael didn’t say anything out of visible intimidation, it’s exactly what they wanted.

“Where you going Star?” David asked, his tone sharp & assertive

Avoiding eye contact with an annoyed look on her face she answered, “For a ride, this is Michael.”

“Let’s go,” Michael said, grabbing her hand to guide her onto his bike.

“Star,” David said, expectantly.

The three shared glances with one another for a good few seconds before Star finally walked over to David and got on his bike. What the hell is this? (Y/N) thought, completely confused by the change in everyone’s attitudes. This was completely conflicting because while (Y/N) was having a great time…it looks like her brother will have the worst.

“You know where Hudson’s Bluff is, overlooking the point?” David asked Michael

With a you’re kidding me look on his face Michael answered, “I can’t beat your bike.”

In a teasing and demeaning tone David said, “You don’t have to beat me Michael, y’just have to try n’ keep up.”

As if there was some unspoken agreement to the situation the boys started their bikes. Marko took one hand off the bars & placed it over (Y/N)‘s interlocked fingers before zipping off. “Make sure you’re holding on real tight!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Oh trust me, I am!” (Y/N) said, burying her face into his patch work jacket to avoid the sand being kicked up.

And off they went.

[octuscle]

Hello, support? I’m not sure if this is something you can help me with, but I feel like I’m in the wrong body. I’m a nerdy skinny dude with boring metro style. Deep down, though, I love heavy metal music and anarchy, and I think I was meant to be a punk rocker. Can you make me a proper punk? Do whatever you have to.

You're sitting in your favourite café. You're reading the newspaper, drinking a coffee or two. You're almost invisible. Asking a waiter to bring you a coffee is a challenge every time. But that's changing. You realise that more and more people are looking at you. You're still an inconspicuous nerd with narrow shoulders dressed in a black turtleneck jumper, black jeans and a grey flannel jacket… But something is different. Very different. There's a mohawk on your head. A harmless variant. More like an extreme undercut. But the hair is… Purple! You don't even notice it at first, but suddenly every waiter stops in front of you and asks if he can bring you something else. One of them holds a silver tray pressed against his chest. You vaguely recognise your reflection. Bloody hell!

You stand up. Staggering a little. Have you grown? You walk briskly to the toilet. Shit, you can't see, you're going blind! You take off your glasses to splash some cold water on your face. And without your glasses, you can suddenly see everything crystal clear. You see a man who literally screams "manly". Your facial features are angular, as if chiselled from granite. But your head and muscular neck don't match your body. Your stud earrings and hairstyle don't match your stuffy clothes either.

You can't get enough of your reflection in the mirror. You scrutinise and feel your face. You get a hard-on. And you have to pee too. You stand at a urinal and fumble your pathetic cock out of your trousers. Yes, it's hard. But nothing to brag about. Nevertheless, you have to wank your cock. No matter if someone comes in now. It feels so great. The rustling of the fabric slowly turns into the creaking of leather. The moment you hear footsteps next to you and someone stands at the urinal next to you, you come. You come powerfully. As was to be expected with the size of your impressive balls and your impressive cock. You squeeze the last bit of cum out of your glans and suck it off your finger while looking at the guy next to you. "Disgusting," he groans. "Oh, fuck off, Nazi bourgeois," you hiss back as you painstakingly stuff your cock into your jeans. You rub your hands on your jeans and walk back to your seat with heavy steps. Almost everyone in the café follows you with glances. Fuck, you might not look like anarchy. But you look like a veritable rock star.

But that's not the end of your transformation…

A waiter asks you if you'd like another coffee. He has a visible bulge in his trousers. You growl at him if you look like a coffee and order a whiskey. Pure. No ice. The waiter stands at attention and thanks you for your order. The only thing missing is a salute.

As you sip your whiskey and play with your mobile phone, you notice a smell. An odour of nicotine, sweat, booze and leather… And then you realise that the smell is coming from you. Your mobile phone is full of scratches, the display is cracked. And then you see the first tattoos appearing on the back of your hand. You pull up the sleeves of your leather jacket. Your entire forearms are covered in tattoos. Nothing from an expensive studio. Cheap tattoos, the kind you get in prison or in a dark backyard.

The next waiter who approaches you no longer has a bulge in his trousers. He asks you to pay and leave. Shit, your wallet was in your flannel jacket. There's no wallet in your leather jacket. You rummage a few crumpled notes and coins out of various trouser and jacket pockets. With great difficulty you just manage to pay the bill. You give the waiter and the customers staring at you the middle finger and walk out of the café. Shit, why did you go there in the first place? And how are you going to get money for tobacco and a beer?

This area is bad for scrounging. Intellectuals and snobs. They're generous in themselves, but they don't use cash any more. And you don't take credit cards. That's why you and your mates usually hang out in front of dicounters or in cheap shopping centres. That's where you get the most money. Just to make a statement, you piss next to the entrance of the café and give them the finger again. And then you make your way to the next bus stop. If things go well, you can bum a fag right there.

[gococogo]

Day Fourteen: Face Fucking/Eating Out

Kinktober Masterlist will come after October

Synopsis: With the rare occasion that V and Johnny can touch each other, they make the best of it before it's over.

Word Count: 1.1K

Genre: Cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Male V/Johnny Silverhand

Warnings: Face fucking/Deep throat/Blow job/Ass eating/Choking

V trembles on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around his thighs to keep his legs up high. But that’s all he can focus on right now. The buzz that fogs his mind and body is something he thinks the chip is doing tenfold.

Or maybe it’s just because Johnny is just that damn good with his tongue. The rocker’s hands hold tightly onto his thighs, the feeling of his hands being there seeming so real. V almost forgets he’s just an engram on a chip.

But right now, Johnny’s tongue invading his ass feels too real to not be fake. His hands hold V’s ass open roughly, hard enough to leave two big handprints when he’s done. Whatever that wicked tongue can do, it has V shaking. Physically shaking. All those jokes and fuck arounds the two had, Johnny wasn’t lying. He knows how to use his it that silvered tongued deviled.

V’s dick twitches as Johnny licks up from his ass to his balls. He can’t help the shaky breath that comes from his mouth. And Johnny gives a satisfied hum at that. He lets V’s legs down, but only so he can pin him in place on the bed by his hips. Thumbs dig into the soft part of his waist and it hurts, but it only has V groaning for more.

Johnny glitches suddenly.

The both of them freeze in place, eyes widening as they wait. Wait if this short lived moment of touch is over or if it’s continuing. Johnny squeezes V’s hips, testing to see if they’re still right. And when V hisses in pain as Johnny’s metal arm squeezes a little too hard, the rockstar keeps going.

“Better make the most of this before it’s over,” Johnny cocks a smile.

V grunts as he can feel Johnny’s hot breath over his cock.

“Come on, Johnny,” he almost whines out.

“Don’t be going soft on me now, V. What would they say if someone saw you like this?” Johnny mocks.

At that thought, it should’ve deterred V or even put him off, made him uncomfortable at the thought of someone watching him. Or about to walk in. But it only excites him and Johnny sees the glint in his eyes. He snorts at that, moving up V’s body until they’re face to face, nose to nose, air to air.

“Remind me to try and do this when you’re out on one of your gigs next,” Johnny’s tone is dark.

It’s a promise, not a statement. V swallows thickly at that.

Johnny works his way down V’s body once more, kissing and biting and sucking until he reaches his leaking dick. Warm lips wrap around the head of his cock and V can’t help the small buck of his hips. Johnny bobs his head, flattening his tongue so he can get more of V down his throat.

“You’ve- ah- You’ve obviously had practice,” V groans out.

The rockstar comes off with a wet pop. “I’m just taking note of what everyone else has done to me.”

“What? You’ve never sucked a dick before?”

“Once or twice, was more Kerry’s thing.” Johnny replies deeply.

“You and Kerry?”

“No. But the orgies were fun.”

And somehow, he’s a natural. No, of course he is. He’s Johnny Silverhand. An egotistical prick that will get shit right the first time or not do it again.

V’s hand grip tightly into Johnny’s hair to guide him back down onto his cock. The groan that comes from the rockstar is only encouragement for V to keep going. He uses Johnny’s hair as leverage to push him further down his dick. Slowly at first, testing the waters. But when V doesn’t get a punch to the gut or a bird flipped at him, he continues on.

He moves Johnny slowly, not wanting to hurt him. He can feel his dick hit the back of his throat in which he receives a small choke. Johnny is pulled from V dick’s, but it isn’t the guy receiving the blow job that does it.

“If you’re going to pull my hair and fuck my face,” Johnny snaps roughly, “Don’t treat me like some virgin whore that’s going to go cry to her mummy and question why she got into whoring in the first place.”

That, has V biting in tongue on the many words he wants to counteract Johnny’s insult with.

With a little bit too much anger, V drags Johnny up the bed by his hair. He pushes the rockstar down on his back and proceeds to sit on his chest. How? V doesn’t question it.

His dick touches Johnny’s lips and he can’t help but thrust a little forward to smear his precum over his mouth and cheek. It’s a hot sight V must admit. Having Johnny underneath him, watching him with dark eyes. V pushes his dick into Johnny’s mouth in which he takes it eagerly.

Johnny suddenly grabs V’s ass and pushes him further down his throat, obviously getting testy. The action has V bending over Johnny, holding his hair as the other makes work of his dick. The buzz that rushes through him is paralysing.

He thrusts into Johnny’s mouth, his dick slipping down his throat with ease. The hot wetness is something too real for V’s liking. But in the race to catch his high before all of this ends and another relic attack comes around dwindles the worries.

Johnny squeezes his ass tighter as V abuses his throat, as if urging him on. Using the rocker like his own personal fleshlight. He keeps going at a desperate rate, chasing his own high. His dick slips down Johnny’s throat each time he thrusts him. Johnny’ chokes lightly, the noises coming from him almost disgusting but V can’t get enough. His balls tense up as he grunts with every movement. Until finally, Johnny does something that tips him over the edge.

Johnny pulls V nearly all the way out of his mouth but he sucks at the head. He flicks his tongue under V’s foreskin with a wicked smile. And that, that has him coming in Johnny’s mouth. Even though V cums onto his bed, Johnny’s engram is shown drinking it up nevertheless.

V’s body shakes as he falls onto the bed next to Johnny with a huff. The rockstar breathes heavily as he stares up at the ceiling. He licks his lips and that alone is hot. V reaches out to touch Johnny’s arm.

He can feel his arm for a moment, before it sinks right through, Johnny’s engram flickering blue. Johnny looks to V, a small flicker of disappointment coming to his eyes. He flickers off the bed and over to the window without a word.

“No aftercare or cuddles?” V pokes.

Johnny flicks on his aviators then lights a cigarette from god knows where. He draws slowly and then exhales the smoke. More force of habit at this point that’s followed him into his engram.

“Not my type of thing,” he grumbles back.

V sits up. “You would if you could.”

All he gets back is a little, “Hmph.”

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 13

Second one for today! Again, I will be being out two chapters a week until it is fully posted.

The Grammy's!!! Steve has a rough time of it with his recent coming out as Eddie's boyfriend. Some people are just that vile.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

****

Steve was pressed up against Eddie’s side, Eddie’s arm was wrapped around him, his fingers nervously playing with Steve’s earring as they politely laughed through the comedian’s opening monologue. They were forced to smile when a joke was made about them. All the while the entire table was seething.

Finally the jackass got off the stage and the real show began.

They sat through all the technical awards and clapped at the appropriate places.

They sat through the country, rap, R&B, and pop awards. Finally it was time for Best Metal Album.

Steve grimaced through the painful “banter” between the pop princess and the nearly dead former rocker who was hitting on her.

Finally they got through the nominees.

“And the award goes to....” the pop princess said, drawing it out for dramatic effect.

“Corroded Coffin!” the aging rocker shouted into the microphone.

Suddenly their whole table was on their feet screaming and cheering and crying.

Eddie gave Steve a quick kiss before the band got up and thanked the appropriate people.

Eddie was last. “Thanks to my Uncle Wayne without whom I would be alive. And to my new good luck charm and love of my life, Steve Harrington. Love you, baby!”

Steve smiled and mouthed “I love you too!”

And then the seat fillers came. A couple of them were knothead alphas who tussled briefly for who was going to sit down next to Steve. Steve shared a glance with Elinor, Gareth’s escort date. They both rolled their eyes.

The alpha who lost went to go sit next to Elinor while Steve was forced to endure this thug in a tux.

“Escorts like you are so frigid,” he sneered. “I was surprised to see that you were actually dating Eddie Munson.” He leaned in close and Steve could smell his breath. “But I guess whores like you tend to go for rockers and A-list actors.”

“There’s always a caveat to everything,” Steve hissed. “Nothing is as black and white as you’re making it out to be.”

The alpha laughed. It was loud and abrasive. “A whore is a whore no matter how tarted up they look.”

Steve leaned back out of his space. “Well, I get the last laugh asshole.”

The alpha frowned but then Troy, Xander, and two very beefy looking security were hauling him to his feet.

He yelped but didn’t struggle when he saw how outnumbered he was. He spat Steve’s direction, but the spittle didn’t even make it past the guy’s lips, making him look deranged.

The seat next to Steve was suddenly filled by a lovely beta woman who gushed about his dress.

Apparently she was a fan omega designers because they had a unique take on what it meant to be feminine.

Steve ended up giving her the name and number of the designer and she went away chirping happily.

Then Eddie was back and it was fucking relief.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured gently when he got settled in.

Steve smiled up at him. “Nothing my hot shot team couldn’t handle. But I’m all better now that you’re here.”

Eddie hummed, barely keeping his annoyance in check. But he had to force down his impulse to hunt down that alpha and rip his stomach out through his throat. Steve had been on the receiving end of worse bullshit than this, he had no doubt.

He must have been scenting his rage pretty strongly because Steve was rubbing his nose along his gland and murmuring what a good alpha he was.

But the band wasn’t in their seats for long as they were up next to perform their hit single “Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven”. Steve sighed at his loss but thankfully the next seat filler was stately looking gentleman who had been to fifty of these events as a seat filler. He loved the free food and even though they weren’t allowed to drink, they got sent home with a nice bottle of wine at the end of the night to make up for it.

If Steve hadn’t been excited to see Corroded Coffin play, he would have spent the whole time talking to the dear fellow.

Between him and the beta woman, Steve was able to relax again.

The song was okay, but the way they put their heart and soul into their playing, Steve could see why they were so popular.

Sadly the song was over and so was Steve’s time with the gentleman. Whom Steve was happy to tell Eddie all about.

Eddie smiled that sweet dimpled smile and kissed Steve cheek. “He sounds wonderful, Stevie.”

If Corroded Coffin won the next two awards, they would be backstage until the end of the show.

So Steve decided to soak up as much attention from Eddie as he could. He giggled a little when Eddie when right back to rubbing Steve’s earring.

“It’s my good luck charm now, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Not gonna be able to stop.”

Steve kissed Eddie deeply. “And I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Musicians, actors, and athletes were all superstitious by nature and he had been taught to lean into that regardless of what his beliefs on the matter actually were.

Besides Steve got it. Win a game three times in a row wearing the same pair of socks? Those are lucky now.

So if Eddie thought rubbing Steve’s earring was lucky, then he would let him continue.

Then it was time for the Song of the Year.

And at least this time the presenters didn’t try to make horrible small talk before they announced the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

“‘Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven’ by Corroded Coffin!” they shouted into the microphone.

The band was losing their collective shit.

Eddie picked Steve up and spun him around. “We won!”

“Sure did, love,” Steve murmured. “Now go up and get it, you beast!”

Eddie spun him around again and then ran up after his bandmates.

“This is the one we never expected to win,” Eddie said into the mic, tearing up. “There were too many great songs nominated. But this is an absolute honor. This one is for you, mama!” He kissed his lips and blew it to the sky.

He stepped away from the mic to let Jeff and the producer to give their thanks.

Then they all walked off stage.

Steve was on pins and needles now. Either they lost and would be back down in their seats for Solo Artist of the Year or they would win and they would be be doing the whole press junket again.

The big jumbotron showed the band backstage as the nominations were read, they had their arms around each other and their heads down.

Last year’s winners fumbled with the envelope as they struggled to get it open.

The bassist gripped, “Who the hell seals these things?”

Finally the drummer just ripped the top off like a letter and flipped it open.

“Corroded Coffin!”

The jumbotron showed Eddie and his bandmates just jumping up and down screaming. Then they were being shoved back on stage by their manager, Benny.

Eddie kissed all the other band’s members on the cheek as he went past them to get their final award for the night.

Steve let out a wolf whistle. Eddie looked out into the crowd and spotted him waving and whistling.

Eddie waved back.

“God,” he breathed into the microphone. “I am so grateful, I am just overflowing with gratitude to the academy and all those who voted for us. This album came from a place of love and how to find it in the darkness. It means so much to me that it found a place in people’s hearts. Thank you!”

Each of the members of the band gave their speeches and they were ushered off stage again.

Steve didn’t even bother looking at the person who filled Eddie’s seat. The show was almost over and he was so ready to be out of there and out of this dress.

He knew it made him and whoever he was with look good. That was the point of it after all. But he couldn’t wait to get into the suit and mesh top that he was wearing to the after party.

He stood up and Robin was at his side in an instant.

“Eddie told me to tell you to go ahead and get changed,” Robin said into Steve’s ear to be heard over the din of the exiting crowd, “he’s going to be awhile.

Steve nodded. He knew the drill. She had his garment bag slung over one arm as she led the way out of the main area and into the halls. Troy was right behind them.

Robin led him to a room he could change into and Troy stood guard outside the door.

Steve stripped completely, changing everything including his underwear. Thongs were great for mini dresses but a literal pain in the ass for suit pants.

He refreshed his makeup and double checked his hair. Once he was satisfied, he nodded to Robin.

She knocked on the door to let Troy know they were coming out.

“Eddie’s security just checked in,” Troy said, falling in step with both Robin and Steve. “He’s on his way out to the front and will meet us at the car.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said and let them usher him to the car.

Just before the stepped out, Troy whispered. “There are press out there and they’ll want you to comment on Corroded Coffin’s wins tonight. But their management wants you to ‘no comment’.”

Steve took a deep breath. He knew why they didn’t want him to say anything, but he was proud of them all for their well earned wins. Steve looked to Robin.

She shrugged. “I mean, you aren’t under contract with the label anymore not after you two officially became a couple, but don’t rock the boat too hard, yeah?”

Steve nodded again and stepped out back onto the red carpet.

“Steve! Steve!” came the shouts of the paparazzi.

“Are you and Eddie going back to your hotel to celebrate?”

Steve snorted, that one was easy. “No comment!”

“Eddie is expected to be at the Vanity Fair after party, are you going to be there?”

Steve glanced down at his changed outfit and raised a questioning eyebrow at the guy before rolling his eyes and ignoring him.

“Steve!” another paparazzo called. “What are your thoughts on Corroded Coffin’s wins tonight?”

And then it hit him. Why the label didn’t want him to say anything. The first time he had heard the song they were nominated for was that night. He wasn’t a fan of Corroded Coffin. He had friends that were, but he wasn’t.

“I’m happy they won,” was all of he said.

It wasn’t the ‘no comment’ the label wanted, but it was vague enough that he could get away with it.

Troy and Robin nodded. He had said the right thing.

There were more questions thrown at him but he sailed through the ordeal with aplomb.

He slipped into the car, hoping that Eddie was already there, but no such luck.

“You okay?” Xander asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

Steve let out a sigh. “Yeah. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Xander raised his eyebrow and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve admitted. “I wasn’t expecting it from a seat filler. I thought they vetted those more thoroughly than that.”

Xander nodded. “Starcourt management is already looking into it. That place was filled with escorts, how did that guy manage to not offend one before you.”

Steve hummed his agreement. He had wondered that, too. “I think he was after me specifically. I got asked if clients had canceled on me after it was announced I was dating Eddie. I know none of them canceled...”

“But maybe it angered people who were going to request you enough to not even try?”

Steve nodded back. “Yeah.”

Just then the door was yanked open and Eddie practically threw himself onto the backseat of the car.

He was pissed.

Steve immediately went into soothe alpha mode. “Hey, love, you okay?”

“I’m suing someone for slander,” he huffed, “and before you think I’m over reacting, Benny, my manager is the one that suggested it.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “If it was about me, sweetie, you’re going to have to get in line behind Starcourt. They take those things very seriously.”

Eddie blinked at him a moment, but that seemed to settle something in him and relaxed. “Good.”

Steve giggled as he was pulled onto his lap. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. You were three for three tonight.”

Eddie kissed him soundly. “I was indeed, I was right. You were my good luck charm.”

“Pleasure to have been of service,” Steve cooed.

Xander pulled out into traffic and Steve slid off Eddie’s lap and sat down next to him.

“It was a little rough today,” he murmured.

Eddie sighed. “Yeah, it was. I’m not sure why. Gareth has taken escorts to events before as have several people I know. But they were out to get you tonight.”

Steve sighed and took Eddie’s hand. He played with the rings as he gathered his thoughts.

“I think it’s because I’m so young in being courted,” Steve murmured.

Eddie frowned and turned in the seat a little to get a better look at him. “What do you mean?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Most escorts that bond are in their late thirties/early forties. Meaning they’ve had a couple of decades under their belt, but I’m not even thirty yet and all they can see is someone who is trying to honey trap one of the greatest rockstars of the era.”

Eddie rubbed his face with his free hand. “Shit, baby. I didn’t realize. But it’s ridiculous because you made more last year then the whole band did. If anything, I’m trying to honey trap you.”

Steve lowered his eyelids. “Does that mean we’re going to get sticky later?”

Eddie nearly choked on his own tongue. “Yeah, baby. We’re gonna get sticky tonight.”

Steve leaned in close, but Eddie put up a finger. “After the after party, you fiend!”

Steve pouted, but he wasn’t serious. He knew that Eddie needed to see and be seen after winning big tonight.

He just was going to tease his boyfriend about it first.

****

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium CLOSED

[invisiblequeen]

Anyway, here are my two submissions for the @spacecadet-sims BC that i definitely have not had ready for days prior:

For Atticus: Viana Walton:

Name: Viana Walton Age: Young Adult Gender: Woman Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Vet Likes: Blue, White, Black, Orange, Comedy, Guitar, Horse Riding, Painting, Photography, Polished Fashion, Basics Fashion, Outdoorsy Fashion Dislikes: Red, Gray, Easy Listening Music, DJ Booth, Music, Fishing, Programming, Snowboarding, Media Production, Rocker Fashion, Boho Fashion Favorites: World Music, Spooky Music, Pop Music, Latin Music, spicy foods and most importantly, graham crackers. Traits: Early bird, Hyper, Foodie Aspiration: Dr. Doolittle Family/Important Friends/Pets?: Parents in Chestnut Ridge, Twin sister named Dyana(dee-anh-nah) in San Myshuno. Distant cousin in a sim named Eldon Ervin who visits sometimes. Short Bio: Simply put, Viana Walton is one with the animals. Happily stationed in Brindleton Bay with the top spot in the vet clinic, she spends her time walking with the stray cats and dogs around town, decorating and redecorating her home, and sometimes visiting her family in chestnut ridge to free-ride their horses. She hadn't really thought about a spouse for the future, since most of the guys her friend Supriya Delgato (townie) sets her up with are turned off by how animated she gets about her passions. But Dyana, her twin, got wind of this BC and encouraged her to enter. She's dubious, but Viana is willing to give it a shot. And if it doesn't work out, well, at least she has her occasional sneaky link Catarina Linx. 👀 Misc. Info: She loves denim. LOVES denim. Her mom is tomorangi and her dad is Chestnut-Ridgian, so she visits both places often. She thinks the lighthouse is haunted. And--sit down for this--Mayor Whiskers is her least favorite cat in the area.

For Imogen: Eldon Ervin

Name: Eldon Ervin Age: Young Adult Gender: Man Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: Composer Likes: Brown, Orange, Black, White, PIano, Pipe Organ, Singing, Writing, Preppy Fashion, Polished Fashion Dislikes: Island Music, METAL MUSIC, Pop Music, Yellow, Blue, Harp, Guitar, Cooking, Hipster Fashion, Rocker Fashion Favorites (music, food, etc): Classical Music, Singer-Songwriter Music, Spooky Music, Jazz Music, soup, soup, and more soup. Traits: Lyricist, Outgoing, Unappeasable Aspiration: Musical Genius Family/Important Friends/Pets?: Most of his family is in Glimmerbrook, he's friends with all the townie DJ's in Windenburg, and got on Judith Ward's good side ever since he composed music for her post-peak drama film a few years ago. No siblings, no pets, and if he wants to be around cute animals, he'll visit his distant cousin Viana in Brindleton Bay. Short Bio: You've heard of Mozart and Beethoven, but have you heard of Eldon Ervin? Well, if you watched Judith Ward's last big film, you'd know he was the driving force behind the movie's composition and theme song that catapulted him into stardom. An overachieving genius in every sense of the word, Eldon is looking to release the kind of legendary pieces his idols have in the past. He's noticed that the most heart-wrenching sonatas or concertos were inspired by love. So maybe this BC will bring him the muse he needs. Misc. Info: He likes sitting on benches near ponds and write poems in the rain. His parents are both spellcaster and somehow he came out with no magic at all. We don't talk about that. His favorite animal is a DUCK.

WHAT DO WE THINK?

[ratsfication]

Why I don't think Copia is dying and why he's not the antichrist:

It's well known that TF likes to follow certain themes for his albums concepts.

We had "Prequelle" about the black plague and now we are experiencing "Impera".

Impera is about fallen empires, our cyclic history of conquer and rule. I think ghost is staying with this concept till the next album and this why i don't think he's bringing the antichrist concept so soon.

Ghost is telling us a history and we need the apocalypse in order to have the antichrist and imperia isn't about the apocalypse.

Meliora, Prequelle and Impera are the first steps to create the apocalypse, after all the chaos, we are having the apocalypse and the Antichrist.

That being said, i really think Tobias is going to release an album about the Apocalypse and the end of the world.

"Oh but we already have Infestissumam and Opus Eponymous"

Opus Eponymous is more of an collection of prayers and a few stories about satan and satanic figures.

Infestissumam is more focused on the antichrist, but it's providing us prophecys and prayers for idolatry.

Meliora is about the world without a god, the early stages before the apocalypse.

What the nameless ghoul said about it:

Some Christians Scholars said the antichrist is the first of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, he's going to be the world leader after the rapture and the chaos.

He's going to bring the apocalypse, he's charming and confident.

I don't think this description fits Copia.

Resume:

Meliora, Prequelle and Impera where all the early stages before the apocalypse.

I don't think Ghost is bringing the antichrist so soon because we need one album solemnly about the Apocalypse, to actually have a story for the antichrist and this guy is not Copia

"what about the vitral where Copia is naked and have a enigmatic chest tattoo?"

In my opinion, that picture is actually a representation about Adam and Eve, but it's not literal. Copia is the one holding the apple instead of the woman, this is a metaphor that says he's the one making us sin, he's the one offering the apple of sin.

About Copia's death:

i don't think he's dying, he will probably be deposed and after that, we have papa V. Tobias is not a big fan of being predicable, so honestly, he's not killing papa iv so soon.

I have a theory about Copia too:

Bonus:

Even tho Mary Goore is not an part of the Ghost lore, they're actually a good candidate to being the antichrist.

In the song "under the spell", Mary is actually singing like they're the antichrist itself:

When TF said this:

We need to remember that angels are creatures without genders, so maybe, Mary is actually an fallen angel and a good candidate of being the antichrist.

Another thing: since the antichrist is the exactly opposite of jesus, his mother needs to be a "morally wrong woman". So maybe, the antichrist is the son of one of the papas with an sister of sin.

Overall, this is what i wanted to share! I hope it makes sense.

[weneverlearn]

Kurt Bloch: An Awesome Guy Who Awesome People Like

Rocking with the Fastbacks and recording all your favorite bands since 1979

Fastbacks, 1988; Kurt Bloch far left, Gumby t-shirt

“There truly is something about inspiration and enthusiasm that really is inspiring and enthusiastic!” - Kurt Bloch

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By: Eric Davidson

I’ve been thinking a lot about joy of late. Like pure, eyes-to-the-sky, skipping down the street joy. There is a paucity of it around right now.

We could follow a zillion trails to and from how we got here, but this is ostensibly a music blog, so I’m going to make a quick stab at the roots of this unenviably joyless position we’re sitting in, rock-wise.

The Fastbacks were joyful. Starting out in 1979 in the dawning days of Seattle’s punk scene, they became a local fave on the basis of action-packed shows stuffed with careening pop hooks, irked energy, and a friendly, guffaw around onstage demeanor that didn’t exactly scream “pre-hardcore era.”

Fastbacks retreated for a few years, circa 1988, and when kicked back into gear a couple years later, found themselves being a preferred opener for a load of grumpy grunge bands who I’m guessing hoped to absorb some of the Fastbacks positive energy to counteract their mope – which the Fastbacks were more than ready to supply.

A mélange of metal volume, fleeting bouts of prog whimsy, Ramones tempos, and BubbleYum stickiness, the Fastbacks created a  singular sound. Like most great bands, they never fit into any particular zeitgeist – too raggedy for the pop punk contingent, too peppy for the grunge trend, they nonetheless retained a respected status among bands who appreciated their consistently grabby tunes and fun live show.

Despite any remaining expectations of what “success” was supposed to be, by the turn of the millennium the Fastbacks became that precious thing – one of those awesome bands that awesome bands like.

It should be noted that, while grunge soon gained a definition as a downer genre (that has taken root since), Bloch and company palled around with that Seattle scene from the get-go, and knew many of them as fun rocker kids just trying their best to get through seven months of rain by rocking. 

The Fastbacks kept careening forward right through the ‘Alternative Rock” era that ignored all the fun underground garage punk and instead painted rock as increasingly dreary and grievance-based. The early 2000s came, and the Fastbacks took their leave.

They’ve recently gotten back together for occasional reunion shows. Always holding them together throughout their stop/start whirlwind of a career was ace guitarist/producer and philosophical center of the band, Kurt Bloch.

Bloch, who began his career as a recording studio whizz with Fastbacks, never stopped twiddling the knobs for lots of your favorite bands and/or underrated acts. We checked in with him on his ongoing mission to bring fun to the fringes despite the mainstream consistently choosing incorrectly.   

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Kurt Bloch, rockin', 1990 (Fuck the NRA. I will assume Kurt's t-shirt here was de rigueur '90s irony.)

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What was the first album you loved; and what was the first album you loved because of its production?

Good question, hard to answer. I think it was 45s and AM radio that got me going on recording qualities, how loud some of the great hits of the early-’70s sounded. How some records sounded like they were a band playing inside your head. I think I was aware of EQ and compression sounds early on, how the drum fills would sort of obliterate everything behind it on some songs. How the guitar would be so loud in the breaks. How, if the record didn’t have enough treble, it would be unexciting; if there was too much then it’d sound wimpy.

Then getting into albums, and FM radio, you’d listen to Larks’ Tongues In Aspic or Dark Side Of The Moon, and they had this spacious quality that was rad; the Scorpions’ Fly To The Rainbow was right in your face, really up-front and close. Then, going to see bands live, we’d see the coliseum style shows – that was so cool, but then getting to see bands in smaller spaces where you could hear the amps on stage, and feel the sound pressure in the room –now that was a mind-opener. You could feel the Marshalls and the actual sound coming off of the stage.

Then when punk bands started playing, that’s when it started getting interesting. You know, like I just saw this killer band that sounded so great at the show, and their record sounds like a bowlful of shit. Why?! That leads to one-track, two-track, four-track tape recorders, and each time you record something, you have a whole book of revelations of what to do and what not to do. So many great recordings from that early punk era without a bunch of reverb. It was another revelation. A lot of those early digital reverbs that everyone had, I just hated that fake trebly, scritchy sound. Rather just not use any reverb than that icky sound.

How did the Fastbacks form?

Kim and Lulu were high school friends of ours, The Cheaters was our neighborhood band; only lasted a couple years but they were good ones! When that band disintegrated on-stage, there was still band gear in my parents’ basement. Kim (Warnick, bass/vocals) had been in a band, The Radios, and Lulu (Gargiulo) wanted to play guitar and sing. Somehow my parents didn’t put a stop to it all, so we started playing a couple times a week. Not saying we got good, but we got better.

How long before you felt you had locked into the Fastbacks’ sound?

I reckon whatever “sound” we had was pretty well established early on; it was just whatever we wanted to do. Of course we loved the punk bands of the era first and foremost, but also the ’60s and ’70s pop music we grew up with; and the hard rock bands of the ’70s too! And I always was a fan of the wonderful arrangements and sound of the ’70s prog bands, once I started writing most of the songs, these things would creep in.

Live, 1986

I have this romantic vision of Kim Warnick as a long-haired rocker teen crashing parties and such. Is that correct?

Ha ha ha!! We were all pretty good (bad?) at crashing parties, some of the shit we did makes me wince thinking of it all. But it was 1977, ‘78; things were different back then, a different kind of boredom ran rampant through kids’ minds back then. There was a real disdain for society, maybe not to the degree of the UK bands at the time, but still there nonetheless. Often there was nothing to do other than the proverbial let’s go fuck shit up. And the music was such a part of all that.

So you got a story about something back then that would make you wince now?

Back when we were teenagers in The Cheaters, we would go to pretty desperate lengths to create excitement. The Cheaters singer, Scott Dittman, was maybe the funniest person I’ve ever known, and often in our search for something to do, he would drive a car full of us down to the frats at the University Of Washington. We’d go crash frat parties, rarely did we fit in unnoticed. You’d grab some keg cups and try to hang out, usually immediately, “Would you please leave.” And that didn’t often sit well with Scott. If we were going to “please leave” then we would not leave without exacting some sort of a toll. I guess we could run pretty fast, or we would’ve got our asses kicked pretty well back then. Somehow a few weeks later we’d go back to the same frat house that had a bookcase upended or a row of bikes knocked over, and lo and behold, the same thing would happen again. Of course we were never hired to play any frat parties.

Scott also loved to fight. He took boxing lessons and was always trying to teach us how to fight too. You knew when the gloves came out it was time to find something else to do. “Come on, you just gotta keep your guard up.” (smash smash smash) “You said you weren’t gonna hit us in the face.” Yeah right.

The Cheaters and The Accident (another erstwhile punk outfit) set up a show at a non-punk bar, somewhere down by Olympia. This would’ve been 1979 maybe. There were no roadmaps for like-minded or “friendly” places to play, outside of the major cities. But we were trying to do something, anything, and our double bill got the booking. This bar had a dance floor that also was used for bar fighting. There must have been some sort of organization to the fights, but it was sanctioned bar fighting. No-one was on the dance floor or anywhere near it when we started, so Scott tried to solicit a fight or two during our set. This was unfriendly territory, we were all, “Stop this nonsense!” But once you told Scott not to do something, well he was going to double down of course. Fortunately no one took him up on his offers, and we got out unscathed, but the bar owner took me into his office at the end of the night and gave me a rundown on what we needed to do to become successful in the music business, and the first thing was to get rid of that singer.

1978

First Fastbacks show, February, 1980 – any memories of it?

Oh, totally! The first Fastbacks show, it was at a rec center in a quiet neighborhood, it was three bands: The Vains, Psychopop, and The Fastbacks. We were all friends, and it was all three bands’ first shows. Very ramshackle, but we cobbled together a sound system, someone had a few lights, everyone brought what they had, and the show went on. A little rough around the edges, but the power didn’t go out, no cops were called, nothing was ruined – an early triumph for sure.

Was the power pop zeitgeist of that time a thing for Fastbacks? Did you feel a part of it?

No! For sure the New Wave was hitting strong at that point, but we were certainly not embraced by the new wavers at all. I suppose for that first year, we were pretty terrible, but we had some friends and people who wanted to give us a chance. Getting Duff (McKagan – yes, that one from Guns ‘N Roses) to play drums was the first step into making the band more listenable, but we were still a long ways off of what the general public would consider valuable music. We got kicked off of a show after our first set (of two). “That’s okay, you guys don’t have to play another set.” And I was all, “What do you mean we don’t have to?!” Oh, I get it.

Then when the hardcore bands cropped up, we were pals with some of them, but we weren’t furious enough for them really. I recall some sort of fury at a DOA/The Fartz/Fastbacks show. It required some foresight, which many didn’t possess, to support any kind of music that wasn’t 100% punk. Conversely, the proper power pop bands, well, we were a little too power and not enough pop, I reckon. We wanted to be that, but it’d take a bit still to hone those chops.

Had Duff McKagen played in any band before that?

Duff was the bass player in The Vains, who played that Laurelhurst Rec Center show. That was his first show. He must’ve been 15, barely 16?

Did he exhibit behaviors that would later align with Guns ‘N Roses’ infamous lifestyle?

We were still pretty reeled-in at that point, no one really even got plastered, no one started doing drugs yet. Might’ve been some Budweisers around, but nothing stronger yet.

Guns 'N Roses 2nd show, 1985

Got any Vains stories, recollections of a show, or the general scene from whence they came/played? Was there a good raw, original punk scene in Seattle in late '70s? I'm aware of Soldier and some other bands, but I wanna get it from the horse’s mouth.

The Vains only played three, maybe four shows total. In the late ’70s into early ’80s it was pretty hard to keep something going if you were any sort of impatient. Most bands never got the chance to play enough to iron out any difficulties, or taste any sort of real success. Lots of arguing over what direction to take, stick to your punk rock guns, and play to a rental hall of your friends; or try to get “jobs” in the bars, which would mean being stricken with the “cover band” tag, which was NOT punk.

1978

The Enemy worked the hardest, yet still couldn’t crack the code in 1979. The Telepaths, The Blackouts, The Lewd – everyone broke up, or moved away and then broke up. The Fartz made a pretty good go of it, but even they sorta morphed into Ten Minute Warning, and then morphed into an art band… The Silly Killers stayed pretty punk. The Living ripped it up for their short lifespan. But they were all in that 1982 dilemma, you can almost see a line in the sand, drawn in the summer of 1982. Not a lot of bands made it across that line that summer.

The Enemy live, 1980

If I remember it was some sort of divine intervention that The Fastbacks reconvened in 1983 to fire it up again, it was nearly the end of the line. But it was also clearly a new beginning, a new lease on life, a new crop of kids started bands in those Metropolis years; the Metropolis was a new all-ages venue that I would consider the petri dish of the next bundle of bands.

As the ‘80s took hold and punk rock hall shows were sort of the only stage for many of our bands, after a couple years of not getting to any sort of next level, it was clear that there needed to be a re-grouping of some sort. We’d see our friends’ bands get actual paying gigs in bars – if they were non-punk sounding. Of course many of the punk bands went to the dark side of ’80s metal. Everyone was looking to do something that could “go somewhere.”

Somewhere right in that 1982 corridor, drugs started flourishing, stupidity set in. Duff came with us Fastbacks as a “roadie” in 1984 down to L.A., and when we came back I reckon he moved to L.A. to escape that whole rigamarole. No one was getting anywhere here anyway. A bold move at that time, at the advanced age of 20!

1987

Word is Fastbacks have had between 12 and 20 drummers. Short of naming every single drummer, are there a few you’d like to point to as having had a particularly interesting stint; or who went on to other bands?

Gosh, all the Fastbacks drummers had something great about them. There were a few who only did one show. I publicly apologize to those who didn’t last. Those were strange times. I don’t think there are any unsolved mysteries in the Fastbacks drummer world, Dan Peters, who recorded a couple songs with us but no shows, Tad Hutchison, and Tom Hendrikson, who each did one show…. Some convoluted moments for sure, and all killer drummers!

Do you think if you would have remained drummer for Fastbacks that you would have still gotten into production?

Yeah, I think the fascination with recording was parallel to the live playing side of things, it was always there in my constitution. Wanting to learn, wanting to figure out how to make records that captured how killer bands sounded. It was such a tall order back then. Seemed like the old guard [engineers] didn’t “get it,” or were prohibitively expensive; and so many of the others didn’t sound kickass like we wanted. Of course this comes from the actual band, first and foremost; that is learned the hard way! But if the band blazes at their show, it seemed that their records should sound blazing too, but that wasn’t often the case.

1988

1989

From what I remember, the Fastbacks rep was that of the favorite local band of all the Seattle bands, and hence got on as openers for bands who would soon get huge during that whole grunge thing…

Pretty hard to say from the inside view. We had the unfortunate hurdle of being broken up from late-1988 till mid-1990. A lot of opportunity probably squandered during those times. But, unlike anyone else I can think of, we did get a second chance via Sub Pop, and another decade of rock. I know we were quite lucky in that department. We never did gigs large or small with Nirvana, Soundgarden, sort of the class of ’89. We did share a slightly miserable practice space with Green River and later Mother Love Bone. Always pals with those cats, so we did do opening stints with Pearl Jam in 1996, all around the world.

What was miserableness about it?

Oh man, that place… It was in a basement in Pioneer Square, the old, original downtown Seattle. The Great Seattle Fire devastated downtown in like 1889, and they rebuilt the city on top of the old city, one floor higher. So our basement was on the level with the old, original city; some rooting around could be done. There was no bathroom or running water down there, so you had to go to the bar a block away to use the facilities, but often you just couldn’t be bothered. In the space next to ours, it was a smashed up, decrepit old room that we moved all the garbage from our side into. No lighting of any sort, so it was all flashlights if you had them, and filling up bottles of pee and putting them where ever we could find room.

But of course we raged supreme down there, some epic parties, bands playing, and whatnot; of course no water or facilities, but grand times in the ’80s. Somehow, I ended up being in charge of paying rent, not the best job for me to take on. It meant tracking down Andrew Wood once a month and trying to get him to pay his share of their rent. First it was Malfunkshun, and Green River was there too. We might’ve blown up before Mother Love Bone started? I think I remember Green River blowing up too, after their California trek; it would’ve been not too long after that that The Fastbacks unceremoniously imploded. But for a while it was definitely a rager.

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Nifty, random link I stumbled on with some cool early Fastbacks fliers, stories, and live stuff.

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1992

While you didn't play with the "biggies" of the scene as much as I thought, got any early Nirvana or Soundgarden tale of any sort you'd like to share?

Our fabled practice basement was just a couple blocks from The Central, a venue that was sort of home base for a lot of stuff. The Vogue as well, it was on the north end of downtown, we were on the south end. Many people had keys to the place, so it was not surprising to duck in between sets at The Central, to have cheap beers or whatnot. I first saw Soundgarden at The Central, and they were certainly mind-blowing. Would’ve been ’87? Quickly became a favorite Seattle band, and when their first 7” came out, my roommates hated me. I had a tendency to play those 45’s over and over and over again. But they played The Central a lot, and just got better and better, heavier and heavier. I remember the first time they played “Beyond The Wheel”, it was at the Vogue. I was standing next to Mark Arm and we looked at each other and just said FUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH…

The first Nirvana show I saw was also at the Vogue, it was maybe not the greatest Nirvana show, but man I thought that singer was amazing. Shortly after, Jon Poneman (Sub Pop co-founder) was at the bar there and said, “If you buy me a coffee now, I’ll give you a 45 tomorrow that will change your life.” An easy proposition. Sub Pop HQ was half a block away, he gave me a “Love Buzz” 45, and once again, the roommates had a reason to hate. I must’ve played that record 100 times in a row. Might’ve taken them a bit to find their pummeling style, but man they sure did. Then after Bleach had been out a while, all the rumors of major label this and major label that… So exciting and weird.

Who is a favorite Seattle “grunge era” band you really dug and maybe didn’t get the recognition you think it deserved? Mine are the Derelicts and Zipgun.

Of course! Pure Joy, Flop, H-Hour, the Meices – wait they were actually from SF… Huge Spacebird, Once For Kicks…. Have you got an hour or so?!

I know you are no doubt tired of this question, but do you have a late ‘80s/early ‘90s story or show that happened where you thought, “Damn, this Seattle scene thing is getting some real attention? This is fucking weird.”

After the Fastbacks blew up in 1988, I started playing with the Young Fresh Fellows, and we were off and running pretty hard right away. Certainly a parallel path from the Seattle Grunge Explosion, but a decent path it was! I was pals with Jon and Bruce (Pavitt) at Sub Pop when they started, so I’d go hang out at their early HQ/distributor place downtown. It was amazing to see some of these bands blow up when they did.

Young Fresh Fellows, 1989; Kurt Bloch far right

I suppose the thing that sealed it for me was listening to the advance cassette of Nevermind on a Young Fresh Fellows trip. Scott McCaughey had been assigned to review it for local music rag, The Rocket, and I nabbed it from him on a trip out East. It totally blew my doors wide open. Already having been a superfan since that “Love Buzz” 45, and seeing a couple of the shows they did here before going out to record that album, then hearing it for the first time on headphones; then as our tour progressed, seeing the record just going ballistic at every record store, it was just crazy. It never stopped getting bigger and bigger. This is so fucking weird!

Strange feeling of seeing a local band you saw shlubbing around town or peeing next to them at a dive, to hearing them play in a grocery store in Nevada, or whatever....

Soundgarden was the first one I remember blowing up. They went from Sub Pop to SST to A&M – they sorta seemed to have their shit together pretty well. Alice In Chains were kinda off our radar, they were only on the Rock radio stations; it wasn’t until their second album that I noticed that they actually were killer. But Nirvana, they were crazy cool from the get-go, not in the FM Rock station sort of way, but the punk underground sort of way. Plus I didn’t really know them at the beginning, so there was way more mystery about them. A couple legendary Seattle club shows before they went off to start Nevermind; the OK Hotel first playing of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” we were just transfixed – What the fuck is this?! Then the Off Ramp show, they went on really late, and got cut off right before 2am. Somehow the club picked up the empties and let the band play on into the night, and what a show it was. Then… nothing.

Didn’t really hear anything from Nirvana ‘til the advance cassette of Nevermind went out, and of course thinking, if I like this so much, it’s probably never gonna go anywhere. Wrong. It was like a slow ball of fire, radio then record stores, like every record store playing it, every magazine… It would’ve made you hate a lesser band, but it really was great so there was a sense of pride attached to it all. Finally something we loved is big. But then how big? There seemed to be no end to it. It was everywhere. And so weird to think that kids dug something that was blazing and amazing.

Were you defacto producer of Fastbacks from the get-go of recording?

Oh for sure. Not by strong-arming anyone, but just because there was no money, and no one else could be bothered! Our first 45 was with Neil Hubbard and Jack Weaver, as we were doing a song for a Seattle comp LP, and as per the usual, just recorded some extra songs in our allotted time. The first EP was Peter Barnes, drummer for The Enemy, killer Seattle band and very much an inspiration to all the bands in the late-’70s in Seattle. Then after that, it was trial by fire.

Can you tell me more about The Enemy, and their local import?

The Enemy pretty much initiated the punk “scene” in Seattle. There were a few bands, but they started a club, it was all ages, March, 1978. Otherwise it would’ve been hall shows, but The Bird brought everyone together. Originally only open for a few months, but there were shows there every Friday and Saturday, it really did give us something to do.

My first band, The Cheaters, might not have actually played anywhere if not for them. We could have languished in my parents’ basement forever if not for being stopped by The Enemy members at a Ramones show: “Hey! Are you guys in a band? Would you want to play at our club we’re opening up in a few months?” Of course we said yes, we didn’t tell them that we were just barely a band, we’d never actually played a show, nor would we maybe ever had if not for their offer. We were just teenagers, my brother Al was still in High School. But they took us in and let us play shows. The drummer, Peter Barnes, filled in for a night our real drummer couldn’t play.

Everyone knew each other, when it was time to record what was to be The Fastbacks’ first EP, Peter volunteered to be our producer. He figured out how to get cool, kickass sounds and make things happen. No one had any money or experience so it had to be on a budget, but he made it happen. The record turned out great. “In America” was on the commercial new wave station, we thought we had it made!

I thought I knew what to do, to various degrees of success. Conrad Uno at Egg Studio did much of our first album. He was wise beyond words and also a great teacher. After that LP was finished he was all, “You can do all this, I think, I’ll be back at the end of the night to close up!” Then it seemed like the right avenue. So many producers seemed like they just wanted to add stuff in order to have their presence be felt. I always felt, like – what is the least amount of stuff we can have on here to make it happen? Less stuff, but louder. Certainly not against adding things, but also happy to leave things out as much as possible. Always loved the one-guitar bands that didn’t double everything all the time. Makes you think a little harder about what you’re doing.

1994

Okay, I will name a band, and you give me the first thing that comes to mind when you think of your production gigs with them:

Presidents of the U.S.A.

We’d do several takes of any given song, as the band was learning them, Chris (Ballew, singer) would play his two-string bass flawlessly every take, and sing a scratch vocal that could’ve been used as the keeper. Never a mistake, never less than killer every time.

Robyn Hitchcock

Also just an amazing music machine. Put him in an iso booth with a mic for vocal and one for acoustic guitar. He’d show the band a new song and go into the booth, sometimes it would just be one take and they’d nail it, with the lead vocal included. Never a lyric sheet in sight. A brain that truly works overtime. Peter Buck playing his 12-string on a song that he had just heard, and plays flawlessly the first time. Great Peter quote: “I like to get things right.” Indeed!

Fastbacks

Ha!! Some of the recording we’ve done astounds me to this day. It’s like any idea we had, we’d just do it. I swear, no one ever said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Listening back to the early ’90s recordings, there truly is something about inspiration and enthusiasm that really is inspiring and enthusiastic! Some of that music is pretty weird, even some songs that I wrote, I can’t imagine where they came from. I know we did them and all, but what was the impetus, where did they come from?!

Nashville Pussy

Another tale of just trying not to ruin a band that sounded killer. Amazing to think that they all fit in the tiny live room at Egg for that first album. The sheer volume of air pressure in there was unbelievable. A perfect example of what we’d set out to do, just try to not let the recording process get in the way of the recording. And nominated for a Grammy! I went with them to the Awards show – limo, booze, and afterparties. We were scheming all the horrible things that we’d say when we won the award, who we were gonna thank, who we were gonna blame. Of course there’s no way we’d win, they barely could say the name of the band when reading off the nominees! But what an experience. So many laughs.

Mudhoney

Five Dollar Bob’s Mock Cooter Stew (Reprise, 1993) doesn’t get enough props. I think it’s a great record. I really tried to make each song sound different and killer in its own way. Dan Peters (drummer) is always dishing out the quality.

Young Fresh Fellows

It’s easy to work quickly with a band you’re in. You kind of already know what’s going to happen, you know how to set up since you’ve already seen what works and what doesn’t over the last decade or two. We had intended to record maybe four or five songs for Tiempo De Lujo. Somehow we’d crammed all four of us in the basement here; after the two days we’d recorded twelve band tracks – so an album it was! Toxic Youth as well. We’d gone over to Jim Sangster’s living room to learn a few songs before starting recording the next day, and once we got going, they just kept coming and coming. When inspiration strikes, keep the tape rolling!

Can you describe Conrad Uno's Egg Studios; the kind of size or situation you were dealing with? Was there like a famous recording board there you worked with?

Egg Studio, where I and others honed their chops, was a welcome alternative to the “normal” studios of the time. It was truly a basement studio, the performance room was smaller than an ordinary living room. Many bands’ rehearsal spaces were larger than this. But it really did have a relaxed feel to it, and loud bands could all set up in the room and play live and get a good sound. Mudhoney, Nashville Pussy, Supersnazz, Devil Dogs, Supersuckers, Zeke – it was home base for so many great albums.

Conrad Uno moved into the house in maybe 1987, I reckon we finished Fastbacks …And His Orchestra there; and by early 1988, we began Very Very Powerful Motor, then the Sub Pop 7” and Zücker sessions. It began as an 8-track studio. Conrad brought in the Spectrasonics console that was formerly at Stax/Volt studio – rumored to once be owned by Paul McCartney, under whose purview a varispeed knob was installed. The knob remains, it’s Paul’s Knob. The console is now at Crackle And Pop studio here in Seattle, and is working better than ever.

Before Mudhoney began their third album, Piece of Cake, their second at Egg, they bought a 16-track machine for the studio, and that was the classic setup for so many records there in the ‘90s.

1996

I personally would love to hear about making the classic Devil Dogs album, Saturday Night Fever (Crypt/Sympathy for the Record Industry, 1994). Whose idea was it to make it kind of like a party, with friends and fans whopping it up in the studio between songs?

It was their idea from the beginning to make it a party album, “You have been invited… to a party!” Another band that didn’t need any fancy fussing about, they already sounded like a house on fire. Just tried to record them and not get in the way, make sure that the playback sounded like it did in the room with them.

Definitely the last night of the session, they invited all their Seattle friends over for a party, and we played the songs from the album through twice, if I remember, and just had a mic in the room while they were going. All the bottles clinking and all the blabbering was totally what happened. There was so little time to get everything done while we were there. They had booked two gigs on recording days – one out of town in Bellingham! Basically it was like wrangling the Three Stooges to record and mix a full album and an EP in like five days. Let’s just say that the morning hours were not particularly productive. But fortunately, when they were on, they were unstoppable. And so fuckin’ funny! What a fucking great record!

Oh yeah, definitely the most hilarious band to tour with too! We did a month with them once in Europe, traveling in the same packed little van. And even the bad hungover mornings in the van drives would lead to so much cracking up. Singer Andy G. sometimes stood up and imitated Tom Jones live. Anyway, can you recall who all was in the “crowd” on that record?

Honestly, I don’t! The studio was in a neighborhood, so all sessions had to be finished by 10pm. I loved the idea of recording a loud listening party and then mixing that in with the album, but it was so precarious to cram a bunch of drunks in the tiny studio and try to not let any gear get ruined, while still egging on loud misbehavior. Then getting all the cats out of there by 10 and not annoying Conrad or his neighbors in the process.

You must have some fun Andy G. stories too.

All three of those guys had their moments! Andy, Steve, Mighty Joe. Someone should’ve given them their own TV series. It might not have lasted very long, but what a show it would’ve been. I’ve never seen a group rile each other up the way they did. Should’ve had a room mic going constantly while they tried to make a group decision. There was way more work than we had time for. Somehow we got it all done, but just barely.

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Crypt Records, 1993

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And here’s where I decided to check in with Devil Dogs drummer, Mighty Joe Vincent, to get some more details on their Bloch party: "So, in the friends crowd [on the Saturday Night Fever album] was Eddie and Dan Bolton from the Supersuckers, James Burdyshaw and the rest of the Sinister Six, and a bunch of really cool women whose names have escaped my memory banks.

We def recorded on the Stax board. I remember because we had hopes that there was some soul residue left in the cables that might coat our tracks.

We totally loved Kurt. What’s not to love? I do remember that it was a Crypt budget recording so we had to make every minute count, so we were mixing until we were all so tired we were delirious. I’m pretty sure we went ‘til 2a.m. or something like that, but that was mixing. We did that in the middle of a tour, so we did about two weeks of gigs from NYC across this great nation of ours as well as that other great nation to our north, then out to Seattle. While we were doing it , we had a gig up in Bellingham, so we took a day off to drive up there.

I remember Scott Mccaughy was working there at Egg. I was talking to him one day and he told me his days of playing out on the road were over as his wife just had a kid and he had to be a good dad and provide a steady paycheck. I really felt bad for him. And then of course, a short time after that, Pete Buck asked him to come on the road with R.E.M. and said he would pay him a million dollars. Like an actual million dollars. That always made me happy to hear."

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And now, back to Kurt Bloch!

Who were bands you liked to tour with? And/or, a classic Fastbacks tour story?

We had some great west coast tours with DOA in the early-to-mid ’80s, they were definitely an early inspiration to go head-on and charge through best you can. They certainly blazed a trail for the rest of us to follow, doing everything themselves, like Black Flag did from Southern California. The ’80s were a rocky road for the Fastbacks. We played a lot of shows in Vancouver, BC, as well as Seattle, but it was a lot of problems and fighting, ha, and it wasn’t until the ’90s that we actually went out for any length of time – certainly getting into occasional serious trouble with The Meices, Motocaster, Gaunt, and even the New Bomb Turks!

Pearl Jam asked you to do some stadium shows in 1995, arguably the peak grunge year. How did you relate to the whole fame/stadium situation surrounding those shows?

It was January ’95, Pearl Jam asked us to play a radio show from their rehearsal space. I kinda didn’t know what they were talking about, and maybe sort of blew it off. I was trying to finish a Sicko record that night, couldn’t be bothered. I did like their Vitalogy record, “Not For You,” “Spin The Black Circle.” The rest of the Fastbacks were all, “C’mon, we’re doing this!” And I grudgingly told Sicko I was going to have to leave early. I didn’t even bring a guitar, I knew that Stone had a cool ‘50s Gold Top, maybe I could use that.

Then of course we get there and it’s really fun, just a big party scene, tons of buddies and band cats. We played three songs on the Pearl Jam gear setup, maybe Kim talked on the radio, drank some beers, great time! That was cool enough, but then they asked us to open a few shows at the end of the year, Salt Lake City and San Jose I think, and we’re all like, “Hell yeah!” And everything went well, then, “Would you want to go do a U.S. tour, oh and maybe a Europe tour following that…?” And we were all, “Hellz yeah!” And that all went great, clearly we would be the next big thing, the world is gonna love us, nothing holding us back now! We had a great record out, New Mansions In Sound (Sub Pop, 1996). Man, that was it – lots and lots of fun, great shows. We invented an auxiliary opening band for some of the shows, The What. We played Who tunes with Eddie Vedder incognito with a wrestling mask. We drag Mike McCready out for jams, Stone Gossard to sing one of his PJ songs, Eddie did “Leaving Here” with us a couple times, just great rock times in the giant venues. Somehow it didn’t lead to us being the Next Big Thing, but it was fun to pretend for a few months.

1994

Any good backstage shenanigans stories?

There weren’t a whole lot of super shenanigans. They had an espresso machine onstage every night, so we’d all slug down coffees, blast through our tunes, and then get drunk and watch Pearl Jam. Sometimes we would annoy their wonderful crew by being loud and boisterous aside of the stage, spilling bottles of wine or whatnot, but not much more than that. Everyone got along really well, and it was well-protected against after show bullies or negativity. We’d just keep on our course, often ‘til the huge sports arena closed down and they’d kick us out after everything had been loaded out – and we’d still be back there cranking tunes and running around.

It was totally like an arena-sized version of a living room party most every night. Their crew moved all the gear, we barely had to do anything except play every night.

I know you knew some of their members from earlier in the scene, but did you know Eddie Vedder before he got asked to join Pearl Jam?

I might not have met Eddie until the live radio show we did? He came up from San Diego. Didn’t know him before then at all, but we were fast friends. We would spend hours talking about the Who and riding around on the catering carts and smashing into the walls of the arenas. Come to think of it, we were probably very annoying. But no one, like, smashed up their hotel rooms or anything. It was probably comparatively tame.

Might sound weird, but while playing in the Seattle scene -- which is generally described as kind of serious, or dark, or junkies, or you know, “grungy” – did you and the Fastbacks feel kind of out-of-place; or are those kind of definitions of grunge and that town/time not correct?

The Seattle “thing” certainly was a dark, serious sound. That isn’t to say that every musician was dark and serious, but that darkness prevailed. To say The Fastbacks felt a little out of place at that point would be correct; but I always thought we were here first. It’s not like we didn’t dig lots of the bands, but it also wasn’t like we would try to take them on at their own game. It just wouldn’t’ve happened. We did do a version of “Swallow My Pride” – Green River’s, not The Ramones – on Sub Pop 200 [compilation], after a Soundgarden version too; but it ended up being menacing only in a Blue Öyster Cult sort of way, rather than ala either previous version. Slow and heavy just wasn’t in our DNA.

Columbus, OH, 1993 (Courtesy of Bela Koe-Krompecher)

I remember when Fastbacks stayed with New Bomb Turks while on tour in 1993, you guys, well I think specifically Lulu, made an amazing Thai meal for us. Did you always cook for bands you crashed with, or just for us ‘cuz we’re so awesome and nice?

Ha. I think the wonderful cooking was a bit of a rarity. We weren’t much of a crash on people’s floor kind of band by the ’90s, but sometimes it was great to have a day off and some good ideas! Remember that Metallica VHS box set had just come out, and we watched it ‘til the end because Lulu and I both worked on the film crew for the shows they filmed in Seattle, and we wanted to see if we, several years after the actual shows, got any credits at the end… and sure enough we did. Reason to celebrate!

Columbus seemed to love you. What were some other fave towns you played?

Always a great time in Columbus. Not necessarily Cleveland though. We weren’t the hard-touring road warriors that a lot of the other (more successful) bands were. It was whatever city we had friends in that were the best. Vancouver BC, San Francisco, L.A., NYC, maybe Albany, Columbus, Istanbul…

Contract and ticket for 1993 Columbus, OH show. (Courtesy of Bela Koe-Krompecher)

Highly technical and professional stage diagram implorations, Columbus, OH, 1993 show (Courtesy of Bela Koe-Krompecher)

I could be wrong, but you didn’t go over to Europe a lot, did you? Were you able to procure any production work from Euro bands you met whilst on tour there?

Oddly, not a lot of Euro tours… Seems like we should’ve done more, but there was always something. Young Fresh Fellows did some great trips, especially in Spain. Fastbacks Spanish tour was a bit of a dog’s breakfast. Not because of the people in Spain, no sir. We certainly lit it up in Japan once, though!

I did a couple albums for Les Thugs, the French band. One of them in Seattle and one in Angers. May have been bookended with some music travel. It’s amazing to look back at the old calendars and see that between tours with the Fastbacks and Young Fresh Fellows, recording with those two bands and recording other bands. Man, there were times when there was nary a day off, those ‘90s months were packed! Gotta consider myself pretty lucky. And so many killer records I got to be part of.

As a producer, do you feel you are mainly bringing an “ear” to finding the sounds the band wants, or do you try to gently impose a certain style and sensibility over the whole production?

Always try to keep the kickass factor high. I would never try to impose anything other than to try to keep everyone happy so they could do their best work, and not do the same bit over and over and over. Work hard and play hard, but not to overanalyze every little thing. Not under-analyze either, but if it’s killer, it doesn’t matter if everything “lines up” perfectly, or if the choruses speed up a little bit. Try to capture what is great about a band live in concert, and not dilute that if you can help it. Don’t add a bunch of crap just to put your mark on a project.

It's interesting how you professed a love for prog, but you had an innate sense of not always overdubbing too much – note your comment about loving bands that only had one guitar, etc.

The true exciting prog bands started coming out around 1968 and ’69, Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, Van Der Graaf Generator; Pink Floyd and Moody Blues had already been around but maybe weren’t quite included. Recording technique at the time was still fairly straightforward for the most part, there was of course room for overdubbing on an eight-track machine, but most of the first-wave prog bands’ recordings were not overloaded with overdubs. The magic was what they did with their four or five musicians, the arrangements you hear on the record were the same instrumentation as they played live. Some of the songs would have been concocted in a studio, but it wasn’t until later that walls of overdubs became commonplace.

That’s where the greatness of the original bands lies – cool vocal arranging and melding several songs’ worth of ideas into one track. Not a lot of room for squirminess either, it wasn’t so easy punching in on a giant eight-track tape machine in 1968. You made one mistake on that verse? You do the whole thing again!

Okay, gotta ask, with as much exposition as you’d like – what was your favorite recording session(s); and worst recording session(s)?

Pretty much always subverted the disasters. A time or two I told a band, after seeing a live show, that they weren’t quite ready to record yet; play a few more shows and practice a lot, record your practices and actually listen to them constructively. Studio time is expensive, practice time is (or at least was) cheap. You don’t have to have every bit of every song nailed down exactly, but do have most everything pretty well figured out, and be ready for criticism during the recording. If the rhythm isn’t working, be prepared to fine-tune your part so it is; if your harmony vocal is a half-step off, go ahead and adjust!

Some of the great sessions are those where I feel that I learned things, a new piece of gear, a new way of looking at things. Overwhelming Colorfast, Supersuckers, Les Thugs in France, The Meices in Florida… Or the records that just slammed out of nowhere. Devil Dogs, Flop, Supersnazz, Nashville Pussy. So many first albums by bands where they have been playing the songs at shows for a year or two, the tempos are up, the blood is pumping, get rid of the headphones and make it like you’re playing a gig. Play the song three times without stopping. Play three different songs in a row without stopping.

1999 (Courtesy of your's truly)

You’re still actively producing. What have you worked on recently you’d like to highlight? And what’s coming up?

There’s always some great Seattle band records going on – Bürien, 38 Coffin, Once For Kicks, Insect Man, The Drolls, Zack Static. These days, some records take a while to finish, I suppose it’s the nature of the business now. Trying now to clean the slate and get these out the door before starting new ones!

And there’s maybe a new Fastbacks coming, no?

There was no plan of any sort. We were having lunch as we sometimes do, and started talking about a couple songs it would be fun to learn and maybe record. Our pal Joe “Meice” Reineke had recently finished an ambitious and fantastic recording building in his back yard; wouldn’t it be fun to check that out….? Well let’s call him and see what his schedule is. Oh! he’s got a day open, whaddayasay, let’s take it. Well there’s a few other songs we could learn, let’s make it two days… I guess we’d better practice… What if we did enough songs for an album? Maybe we did! Got some band tracks, everyone played their butts off! Now we gotta make more magic. No target completion date nor avenue to release, but everyone is excited to finish it!

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Post Script: This article sprung from an editor at a national mag asking if I wanted to do a story on Kurt Bloch, which of course I said yes to cuz Kurt's a great guy and I've been a Fastbacks fan for a goodly spell. But some months passed and plans changed, and so here it is! Also, I would've put more videos in this piece because the Fastbacks have a ton of great songs, but I guess I just learned there is a 10-video limit for a tumblr post. Who knew?

All images courtesy of Kurt Bloch, except where noted.