#the beat is me hitting my acoustic guitar

[murple]

finally finished my cover of there’s a forest near my house and i can smell when something dies there

https://soundcloud.com/murple-x/theres-a-forest-near-my-house-and-i-can-smell-when-something-dies-there-wbg-cover

while making this i discovered i have a vocal range of exactly 2 octaves and i hit both my upper and lower limits in this

[yuqiyu]

Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.” 

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive. 

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands. 

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise. 

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?” 

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused. 

“Are you new?” 

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were. 

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression. 

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs. 

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way. 

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.” 

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.” 

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine. 

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under. 

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him. 

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them. 

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more. 

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you. 

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now. 

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.” 

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real. 

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!” 

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over.  “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?” 

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this. 

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness. 

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing. 

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?” 

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed. 

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.” 

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this. 

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point. 

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!” 

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.” 

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that. 

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. 

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?” 

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens. 

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.” 

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree. 

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch. 

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you. 

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?” 

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks. 

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.” 

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks. 

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?” 

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze. 

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky. 

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack. 

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely. 

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly. 

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up. 

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile. 

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.” 

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him. 

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun. 

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging . 

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again. 

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more. 

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up. 

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more. 

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured. 

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine. 

“‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well. 

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ” 

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly. 

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it. 

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone. 

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.” 

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. 

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.” 

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill. 

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt. 

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing. 

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back. 

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now . 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out. 

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already. 

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum. 

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?” 

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question. 

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?” 

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.

[coff33andb00ks]

Until You - Part Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four charles leclerc x female pop singer!reader x oscar piastri x lando norris f1 smau with intermittent scenes Summary: they drive vroom vrooms, she sings soulful tunes. there's no way in hell this is gonna work, right? Warnings: language, author lied when she said lando was just there (i promise she's not getting anymore men omg), implied smut playlist a.n: the next part will have a q&a with y/n on insta/tiktok so if anyone has questions they'd like for her to answer please send them to my inbox (as basic or unhinged as you like)

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others ynyln: SURPRISE!!! I present to you my new babies: Enchanted and Lover. Enjoy, my little lattes 💋❤️

↳user3: MY THOUGHTS WILL ECHO YOUR NAME            ↳ user4: omg these are what her and the driver guy were saying            ↳user5: DID SHE WRITE IT FOR OSCAR?!?!?! ↳oscarpiastri: Beautiful, love. 🧡            ↳ynyln: no you 🧡            ↳user4: omg ↳charles_leclerc: all's well that ends well to end up with you ❤️            ↳ynyln: I'll save you a seat, lover ❤️ ↳sabrinacarpenter: on repeat!!            ↳ynyln:❤️ ↳landonorris: love            ↳ynyln: thank you sweetie 🫶🏻 ↳user7: I'm here from f1, why does she call people little lattes?            ↳user8: welcome!! it's a term of endearment for her fans. y/n said in an interview that we give her comfort and a burst of energy, like a latte midafternoon, and it just stuck.

Lando nodded along with the beat. "It just needs a little something extra… You want to keep it acoustic?"

She nodded, sipping her tea. She looked astounded that he was there. He knew he was. When she'd texted him he hadn't expected he'd be on a flight to London within two hours. But here he was, sitting with her in her "little" basement studio, listening to her song for the fifth time, mouthing the lyrics she'd probably written with Charles or Oscar in mind. Charles and Oscar, who were upstairs sleeping soundly.

How I obsessively adore you That's what I do I believe, I believe, I could die in your kiss No, it doesn't get, doesn't get better than this

Oh to be obsessively adored by her.

"I'll do some piano, hang on." She leaned across him, invading his space with her gentle floral aroma and her soft hair and…

He sighed, staring at her in awe as she worked her magic at the keyboard. It was crazy that he was even here, in her private sanctum, witnessing what would undoubtedly be a hit as it was created.

"The piano's too prominent," he said, wanting to feel useful. "The guitar should be the main instrument."

Y/n nodded, and he reached to adjust levels, standing up and hitting play. She looked tense and tired and stressed and he instinctively moved to stand behind her, hesitating.

"Ok to touch you?" he asked.

She tilted her head to look at him. "Yeah of course."

He rested his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently as the song played. "It's a good song, y/n."

"You think so?" she asked in a small voice.

"It's a love song. Hopeful and adoring. It's beautiful. Charles is a lucky guy."

She hummed, relaxing under his gentle touch. "What's he got to do with it?"

Oh. "I uh… Osc then."

She turned her head to look up at him. "It's not for him."

Oh. Oh. "Someone else?" Christ how many boyfriends did she have--

"You don't remember? You float across the room. It's what you said to me at the club after the race in--"

"Monaco," he whispered.

"It stuck with me. So did the kiss," she murmured.

He swallowed, continuing to rub her shoulders. "You didn't... When I sent you those videos I didn't know about Osc and Charles."

Y/n turned and his hands dropped. "What do they have to do with it?"

A nervous laugh rose in his throat. "You're dating them? Both of them, which is insane to me but like I get it. You're like a mouse on crack, you probably need two boyfriends to keep you from taking off—"

She laughed. "A mouse on crack? Really?"

Sighing as she stood up, he looked down at her. "I just… Don't want to mess up what the three of you have going on."

"They don't own me, Lando. I'm a grown woman, I can do what I want with my body whenever I want. With whoever I want."

Lando blinked, his mind short-circuiting over the mental image that put into his head. Swallowing hard, he drew in a breath as she stretched. And held it, staring at her while she fiddled with controls and restarted the song. Let it out slow when he saw the tension returning to her shoulders.

He was reaching for her before he even registered the movement.

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling her to him. Reaching behind her, he switched off the song. "You're gonna drive yourself crazy, love."

"It's right there, Lando, I just need to push a little harder," she groaned, holding her head in her hands and letting him draw her closer.

"Hey, hey, shh…" It felt natural to kiss the top of her head, to wrap his arms around her and try to calm her. "I'm not gonna let you go insane over a song. It's fine, I know you'll come up with something amazing. Just give it time."

"It's not just a song," she whined. "I'm absolutely shit at talking about my feelings for someone, you know? Especially when it…"

"Might go up in flames?" he whispered.

Her hands were on his chest, her head tilting up. "Did you have any idea what you were doing when you stole my number and texted me?"

"Honestly thought I was shooting my shot and hoping I'd get lucky," he muttered, grinning when she laughed.

"It worked."

"Huh?" Lando grunted in surprise.

"Got me thirsty. The past couple weeks have been crazy, trying to fight it, but god, Lando." She sighed as though to ease the tension but it was still there, her body still taut with stress and worry. "I honestly thought you came tonight to fuck me."

His mind bounced like a padel ball in an intense match. He wanted to comfort her, to get her to relax, to ease her worries about the song. But oh how he wanted to kiss her again. He could just remember their half-drunken kiss in Monaco, the electricity thrumming through him, his heartbeat matching the thumping bass of the music. Thought you came tonight to fuck me.

He blinked, his mind going back to a quiet moment before the race in Montreal, when Oscar had been telling him about the unconventional relationship he'd found himself in.

"We're just taking it day by day. But she has a lot of love to give, mate. Sounds crazy, but… I don't think one person could handle it all."

Was there even room for him? Was he honestly considering entangling himself in what would, probably, end up being a PR nightmare for the four of them?

Why was he even thinking of love when he'd originally just wanted to be able to say he'd fucked the richest woman in the world?

"I…"

He leaned down, one hand rising to cup the side of her head. It was supposed to be gentle, sweet, the type of kiss that deserved the song she was working on, but it was harsh, deep and demanding, and he was swallowing her moans. Her nails lightly scraped his neck then they were sliding over his scalp and he whimpered.

"I didn't," he gasped between kisses, growing needier with each taste of her, each moan that fell past her lips. She tasted of tea and chocolate. "I didn't come here to fuck you."

"I know," she moaned. She leaned into him and he felt the need, the flames licking at both of them.

"That's new," Oscar commented, chin resting on her shoulder while she poured herself a coffee. His fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Y/n felt her cheeks warm at the delicate touch, sparking the very recent memory of Lando's mouth on her. "Yeah…"

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked, kissing the mark, his arms snaking around her waist.

"Maybe an hour," she mumbled. After breaking the chair in her studio with Lando, she'd had a burst of inspiration, and the sun had been coming up when they'd listened to the finalized track.

"Love," he sighed, taking the coffee from her before she could take a sip.

"Babe," she whined, her mind snapping to the present, though part lingered on the memory of the twisted sheets of the guest room, of Lando's panting moans in her ear.

"I'll fix you something to eat, then you're going back to bed." He kissed the top of her head and moved away, drinking her coffee.

"I've got to—"

"You don't have anything scheduled for the day. Or tomorrow. So it's rest. No recording, no caffeine, rest." Oscar looked at her over his shoulder. "Stop pouting."

"I just wanted to spend the day with my boyfriends," she sighed, climbing onto the stool at the island counter. Wrinkling her nose when he poured a glass of orange juice and set it in front of her, she reluctantly took a sip.

"We can spend the day here. Peace and quiet, love."

She felt herself melt at his gentle words. Peace and quiet and them. For the whole day. She'd only had snatches of time with them since leaving Monaco. She'd had a concert the day of the Canadian grand prix, and now it felt like some sort of cosmic kismet that her mini break coincided with theirs. They couldn't be together for the whole time, but she would cherish the days she could have.

"Bonjour, mon couer, bonjour koala," Charles greeted as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

Y/n saw Oscar's cheeks tinge pink at the affectionate nickname Charles had started using for him. She sipped her orange juice, looking on as Charles brushed by Oscar, his hand resting briefly on the small of his back, and heard the whispered word. Rousseur. Freckle.

God, she loved them. Oscar's freckles, Charles's nicknames, and them.

"Good morning," she murmured after he kissed her.

"You didn't tell me we would have a guest, mon couer," he murmured, moving to fix himself coffee.

Oscar turned from the cooktop. "Guest?"

"Oh. Yeah." Y/n rubbed her neck. "Lando flew in last night. Late."

"He's snoring in the guest room." Charles was chuckling. "Leo went to bother him."

"I texted him. About the song. I needed input, and you were both asleep and—"

"Lando came to help you?" Oscar's smile was soft.

"He did."

Oscar tipped his head, regarding her much like a cat watching a bird through the window. "Ah."

"Ah, what?" Charles asked, rubbing his eyes while he sipped his coffee. Lowering his hand, he looked at y/n, snorting into his cup. "Ah."

She groaned, slumping down onto the counter. "Is it that obvious?"

"Love, you're glowing." Oscar grinned and turned back to the eggs.

"I've been glowing since Monaco," she muttered against the countertop. Slowly, she lifted herself, eyes darting from Charles to Oscar and back again. "You're okay with it?"

"I already told you, mon couer. I don't mind sharing you." Charles's smile was affectionate. "As long as you're safe and he treats you well."

"He's one of my best mates, y/n. Not to mention he's been obsessed with you for ages," Oscar quipped, sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

"He's not obsessed," she snorted.

"Did he fly commercial or private?" Oscar asked, leaning against the counter.

Y/n sighed, taking a bite of the eggs. "Private," she mumbled.

"Day by day, love," Oscar said gently, leaning to kiss her forehead.

Liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: rough night in the studio until this one came to lend a hand. magic: made. forever grateful, sweet Lando. Let's just enjoy the view tagged: landonorris ↳landonorris: thank you for giving me a chance. soz about the chair            ↳ynyln: chairs can be replaced. and you'll always have a chance while I'm around            ↳user4: aww wait what did he do to the chair??? ↳user3: lando was streaming with quadrant until 1am monaco time            ↳ user4: god did he fly out to help her? my heart            ↳user5: wait that's really sweet 🥺 ↳oscarpiastri: will you rest now?            ↳ynyln: yes darling            ↳user6: aww ↳charles_leclerc: I adore the new song, mon couer            ↳ynyln: it sounds better when you sing it ↳user7: omg did she collect another one            ↳user8: omg stooopppp 😂😂😂

Taglist: @lichterfee | @formulaal | @a-beaverhausen | @dullypully | @wobblymug | @apollosfavkiddo | @callsignwidow | @saachiep81 | @midnigts-lily | @waterlilypat | @kiwi43-81 | @fastfactory | @ivy-34 | @mochimommy2002 | @littlegrapejuice | @colmathgames2 | @norrisainz33 if you'd like to be added to my taglist for this or any of my fics, please use this form

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

The Raifu infection is S P R E A D I N G

And for me the only cure is M16A1, Springfield (MY BELOVED), Spas-12, and M4 SOPMOD II with an S/O who likes to serenade them with a guitar! Please?

(GFL) M16A1, Springfield, SPAS-12, and M4 SOPMOD II's S/O serenading them with a guitar

I have barely resisted the urge to turn this into yet another song fic because Love Deterrence from Metal Gear is the first song to come to mind. And for Girl's Frontline, that song is very fitting in this setting. Also, SPRINGFIELD MY BELOVED, whoever made her deserves some kind of nobell peace prize for creating a woman who can bring world peace with that voice.

M16 thinks S/O songs are cheesy, if she's being completely honest.

She laughs everytime at the sight of S/O with a guitar, attempting to swoon her with an old love song from the early 2000's.

But at the same time, she couldn't deny that it had its charms.

Or that it was completely ineffective against her.

Strangely enough, she gets flustered if S/O plays it with the rest of her squad around, her usual boisterous attitude shut down into stammers and blushing.

But whenever S/O has her full attention, M16 listens intently with one hand under her chin, smiling all the while.

(M16A1) "You sure know a way into a girl's heart with that singing voice."

(S/O) "It was good?"

(M16A1) snrk "Yeah."

(S/O) "...What was with that snicker?"

(M16A1) "S-Sorry, I really do mean that. It's just...Well, it's just kinda funny. I thought this sort of practice died out fifty years ago."

(S/O) "True love never dies out, my dear!"

M16 knew they said that ironically but it still made her burst out laughing.

...God she hoped they were being ironic.

Springfield absolutely adores S/O's guitars skills.

And she loves it even more that they play songs just for her.

Springfield insists that S/O plays at the café to liven things up!

And if it happens to be a love song, then she certainly won't complain!

Much to the dismay of everyone present in the room if the two lovebirds began flirting.

(Springfield) "Lovely performance as always, S/O!"

(S/O) "Well, I'm not sure I could have played as well without you here, Springfield.~"

(WA2000) "GET A ROOM YOU TWO! Some of us are trying to drink our coffee in peace here!"

Springfield just giggles at the others' reactions, not so much as a hint of shame present on her face.

(Springfield) "If I may ask dear, where did you learn to play a guitar? I can't imagine it was through something digital if you're playing such old songs."

If SPAS had a heart, it'd be pounding every single time S/O played a song specifically for her on their guitar.

She lets out a little squeal before covering her mouth and laughing, listening affectionately to S/O.

This sort of thing was in the old vids she had watched, and she never expected for it to be done for her.

It also helped the romantic mood that it usually happened during a red candlelit dinner.

S/O's music was powerful enough to just make her wait a few seconds longer than usual before digging in.

But even as she's eating, she listens without missing a beat.

(S/O) "Well, what do you think?"

(SPAS-12) "Itwablublyafalaysh!"

(S/O) "Chew your food first SPAS."

SPAS-12 swallowed and wiped her mouth, smiling and leaning into the table, accidentally making it almost tilt and almost hitting S/O in the process.

(SPAS-12) "It was lovely as always! It never fails to make me feel so giddy!"

She giggles as she puts both hands under her chin, staring straight into S/O.

(SPAS-12) "You gotta teach me how to play the guitar too someday! I want my turn to give you something romantic for dinner!"

SOPMOD really enjoyed whenever S/O played her a love song on their acoustic guitar.

She had no idea what most of them were from or what year they originated, but its clear S/O put a lot of heart into them.

SOPMOD at least could appreciate that.

But, it was a bit too soft for her liking.

Only one thing to do, show S/O how it was done! If you wanna sing to SOPMOD, you gotta do it her way!"

(SOPMOD) "S/O! I have a song I wanna play for you too!"

(S/O) "R-Really?"

(SOPMOD) "Uh-huh! I've been learning how to play the guitar just like you! Here, sit, sit!"

SOPMOD excitedly rushed S/O into a chair as they laughed, complying with their girlfriend's wishes.

(S/O) "Alright alright! But you need to grab my guitar first, right?"

(SOPMOD) "Nope! Got my very own!"

SOPMOD opened her dorm's closet and brought out an electric guitar, accented with red lightning bolts. Very much like SOPMOD.

S/O first smiled at that, finding the sight cute.

Until SOPMOD brought out speakers that was larger than her, which she slammed onto the ground with little to no efforts, reminding S/O of the strength she possessed.

And then the dangerous smirk they've learned to love and fear.

...

RO635 sat outside the base to get a breath of fresh air. She felt the cold winds blow against her artificial skin as she sat back into a steel chair she had brought along.

(RO635) "I never noticed how quiet it was out here.-"

(M4 SOPMOD II's Voice)

"WOAH, YEAH! KICKSTART MY HEART, GIVE IT A START! WOAH, YEAH! BAAAAAAAAAABYYYYY!"

(RO635) "...Maybe that's why."

[weirdstuffinthewoods]

Music in I Saw the TV Glow

Possible spoilers ahead so read at your own discretion (I’m bad at determining how much information is too much)

I’m a firm believer that one of the most important facets of I Saw the TV Glow is its soundtrack. I don’t know if Schoenbrun has an uncanny ability to track down music that perfectly encapsulates the feeling of teenage ennui or if they’ve just got really great taste. Seeing this in a (mercifully silent) movie theater really let the soundtrack form an immersive layer around me, and the moment the first notes hit, I was 15 again. Unsure of myself, extroverted on the outside but barely connected to my insides, and feeling like I was just playing a role I’d molded from what I assumed people wanted of me. The dreamy, atmospheric chords that wound around soft lofi voices with only a guitar or a keyboard called to the part of me that wanted to connect but didn’t know how.

There’s something to be said about the order of songs on the soundtrack, although it’s been awhile since I listened to an official soundtrack that was a compilation rather than a score so maybe changing the track order isn’t as radical as it feels. For now, I’m just going to talk about a couple of songs, although I’m sure as I listen obsessively to the rest, I’ll have way more to talk about.

Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl by yeule

We start with the opening credits song that haunts my TikTok fyp, Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl. This is a cover of the original sung by Broken Social Scene. The original has a whisper quality- repeating lyrics over a simple acoustic melody with strings rising in the background as the refrain starts. It feels like a girls’ garage band of the grungy 90s, almost the vibe we need but not quite.

The covering artist, yeule, is a nonbinary Singaporean who is said to “…incorporate elements of ambient, glitch, and Asian post-pop…” (Wikipedia) which makes this version much better suited to an analog horror about 90s TV nostalgia. In yeule’s version, the same acoustic melody opens to a new beat made up of interchanging robotic and static tones, while in the background, strings wait for their chance to swell in the space between the verse and refrain. It sounds like an android is slowly waking up to be this jaded pop singer who’s just existing at this point, not living. The lyrics are the same as the original, and speak of someone that’s changed, either the singer or maybe a friend that left them behind.

You used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that.

Now you’re all gone, got your makeup on and you’re not coming back.

Bleaching your teeth, smiling flash, talkin’ trash under your breath.

Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me.

In the context of the film, it feels like the crisis of identity both main characters face. This isn’t my home, you’re not my dad. The memories don’t feel like they’re yours, they belong to someone else. You’re different now, but also you know you were different then, and you’re only different now because you’re hiding in a disguise you hate. And, at least in Owen’s case (depending on your interpretation of the film’s ending), you’re not coming back. You’ll just dream about the person you know you are because you’re too far into the mask to find them again.

The bass joins in on the refrain and the ambience grows with glitch noises interspersed throughout. A strange sort of beauty begins to show and blooms when the drums kick into the chorus. You’re a teen again. It’s raining, you’re like Owen in the car, stretched across the backseat and staring at the ceiling, full of a feeling you can’t name that’s so much more than just being bored.

On TikTok, this song has become associated with a trend of kids, all much younger than me, sharing their stories of transness that was rejected by the people in their lives. A lot of them have detransitioned for safety and comfort, what little they can find by pretending it was a phase. It’s what drew me to this film, because the piece reflected their state of just physically existing in a world they don’t feel is theirs. For a lot of them, this film gave them hope or gave them new determination to make space for themselves, and I love that about it.

Another Season by Frances Quinlan

Immediately after this, we jump to the closing credits song that plays to a theater full of sobbing patrons who got it and laughing patrons who didn’t, Another Season. The jump is jarring, especially when you’re driving away from the theater in a throat-closing rush of tears (ie: me) and you’re brought straight from the introduction of this neon haze that is the suburbs to this fuzzy, pink screen that watches you come to terms with what you’ve just seen. The static breaks to silence except for a soft, melancholy acoustic melody. A soft voice speaks as if to a friend, and the chorus repeats, “If this isn’t over, what else could take shape? How will you remember it?” In the moment, especially post-there is still time, it feels like a call to action as you leave the theater crying. What could happen next? How are you going to remember your life? There are definitely multiple interpretations to this film, but I wanted to feel hope at the end, so for me, putting this song over the credits felt like Jane saying, “yes, it’s scary, and I’m leaving you to wonder what happened to Owen, but what we aren’t going to do is wonder what’s going to happen to you because there is still time.”

There’s so much more to look at in the choice of music and its juxtaposition with the visuals, but I’m going to leave this here for now with the opening and closing. Suffice to say, go see this movie. Support indie film, make the journey, it’ll be worth it if this resonated with you (but also why did you read this?? I’m sure there’s at least one mild spoiler in here).

[daisyful-gvf]

✿ little wing ✿

part 3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pairings: jake x reader

word count: 7.5k

notes: finally!! god i love this chapter. and i can’t wait for the next :)

warnings: sexual situations, marijuana use, drinking, angst :(

playlist (which i’ve become rly attached to lol)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

-✿-

You’re insane if you think The Beatles are better than Cream

You laugh to yourself at his message. It’s a very Jake thing to say. Your answer is playful:

i think you’re just stubborn

It’s been nice texting Jake here and there. During the long stretches in the cramped sprinter van, between braiding Violet’s hair and plucking absentmindedly on your acoustic, it’s an exciting little activity. He’s witty, and also somehow awake most hours of the day.

That could be. But consider this:

He sends a Youtube link to a live performance of Crossroads, and you know before you even listen that he likely has you beat. You watch it anyways and smile at the thought that he shared it with you.

alright, i’ll concede

You answer. After another moment you add

for now

“What’s that about?” Paisley’s voice catches you off guard in the seat row in front of you. Her eyeliner is still half on from the show the night before, and she rubs at it as she smiles at you, “The giggling at your phone. Jake?”

If you act surprised, she’ll see right through it. You just nod, and try not to blush too hard. She offers you a knowing smile and you wave her off.

“I’m just saying…” she laughs and plays with the wooden beaded bracelets on her wrist.

“Well don’t,” you smile and pick up your guitar again, putting Jake out of your mind for a moment.

“Come on,” she grins, “What’s going on?”

The air seems stuffy in the van suddenly, so you crack a window. The summer Texas air is inviting on your skin and through your hair.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “Truly, I don’t. I think we’re just friends, I think…”

She gives you an anticipatory look as you gather your thoughts.

“He’s a flirt, but he seems to tone it down with me. I think he’s just being nice. Professional, even.”

Whether or not she means for it to, the boisterous laugh that comes out pangs at your chest. As your face falls and you resort to playing a riff on the acoustic, she notices.

“Hey,” she soothes, “I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish I should shake some sense into you.”

You raise your brow at her as you play.

“I don’t know that even if I spelled it out for you, that you’d get it, babe,” she says gently, “But if he’s making you happy to be around, go with it.”

“Just don’t leave us in the dust for some rockstar dick, please,” Carol chimes in from the front. She gives you a wicked grin and then smacks her gum.

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes, “It’ll never be like that.”

Paisley reaches over and ruffles your hair before she turns to lay her head against the window, and then you’re left with your own thoughts again. The buzz of your phone on your thigh startles you.

What do I get for winning? :)

You roll your eyes at his cheeky message.

well, what do you want?

He reads the message instantly, and after about a minute of silence your stomach starts to knot.

And then it hits you. You’re in it. You haven’t felt nervous over a text from someone in god knows how long, and it’s almost embarrassing how plain it is for yourself to see. And maybe, it’s not such an insane thing to like him. Maybe you’ll let yourself see where it goes.

Smoke with me again?

You don’t notice you’re smiling at it until your cheeks ache a bit.

if you insist, kiszka

The beds of your nail starts to bleed as you chew at the skin anxiously. You send the next message with your breath held:

time & place?

He answers quickly

After the show? I think our hotel’s right across from the venue. Meet me at the lobby bar?

Trying your best not to overthink it, you reply

see you then. good luck with the show tonight! big crowd.

Oh yeah? You think I need luck?

Your stomach turns at the playfulness of his response.

so humble, you are

The bubble of ellipses taunt you for a moment as he answers.

;)

You stare at the small winking face for a while before you decide it’s probably bad for your cardiac health, and set the phone face down on the seat. The Texas wind knots your hair, but you smile as the breeze hits your face.

-✿✿✿-

You find yourself in a trance as you watch the crew pack up Greta’s equipment from the side stage. Fog still curls through the edges of the room from the machines. After you let yourself watch for a bit, you take a deep breath and make your way back to the girls.

Outside by the van, you find Violet with a leg propped against the small metal barricade, puffing on a cigarette.

“Hey,” she says gently, “We’re gonna go get pizza I think. Coming?”

You lean into her and give her a sloppy half hug, shaking your head, “M’gonna go hang out with Jake for a bit if that’s alright.”

She grins like a cheshire cat and puts her cigarette out on her heel of her docs.

“It’s sweet, y’know,” he clears her throat.

“Mm?” you shuffle your feet around, acting oblivious.

“I can tell you like him. It’s sweet.”

You shrug and lean against the barrier, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She laughs softly and leans next to you, “You don’t have to, that’s the fun of it. Just see where it goes.”

Her words seem so obvious, yet so hard to abide by in the moment.

You nod anyways, and then stand back up, stretching your hands up into the warm evening air. The crop top you’re wearing exposes your stomach to the breeze, and it’s unexpectedly grounding.

The rest of the girls round the corner and motion to Violet, and she leaves you with a soft wave and a smile.

After a deep breath, you turn on your heels and begin to walk around to the front of the venue, making your way to the hotel. The streetlights are warm orange against the dark sky, and it comforts you in an odd nostalgic way. The hotel is nice, a tall, shiny building, just a block away. You enter the lobby with your breath held.

He’s laughably easy to spot in a crowd. He’s in a black cutoff tank, and his brown hair spills in waves over his shoulders.

You approach the bar slowly and tap him once on the back. He turns with an already gentle smile on his face. He never seems caught off guard.

“Hey, little wing,” he grins and turns to bring you into a side hug,

You head reels, all at once hit with the smell of him, the warmth of him. In your head, his voice echos:

little wing

If he didn’t have a soft hold on your torso, your knees surely would buckle.

“Little wing?” you try to sound casual as you slide into the barstool beside him.

He nods, then is quiet for a moment as he adjusts back onto his stool.

“Seems fitting,” He finally says, taking one of the final sips of his drink, “That alright?”

You hum your approval, trying desperately to relax.

“I don’t have a nickname for you,” you blurt out.

He shrugs and signals the bartender for his tab, “You’ll think of one m’sure.”

“You want one?” your smile is genuine.

He smiles at his drink and takes the final swig, then shrugs as he sets it down and swallows. His eyes finally meet yours. “If you wanna give me one, yeah. ‘Course.”

“Hmm,” you bite your lip, “I’ll get back to you.”

He nods and takes the check from the bartender, exchanging his card and finally signing the receipt before he motions to you to exit.

You follow him across the white tile floor of the lobby to the elevator, where you’re met with a silence that is shockingly comfortable. Finally, he breaks it.

“Have a good show tonight?”

He’s standing in the opposite corner of the elevator, waiting your answer intently.

You nod, “One of the better ones actually. You?”

Instantly, he’s smiling, “Yeah, I felt good tonight.”

After you nod, he continues, “I watched your set.”

The comment makes your chest flush. You try to remember that he’s just a musician after all, too.

“And?” you bite your lip nervously.

The steel elevator doors creak open and he gives an ‘after you’ wave of his arm. He exists, then leads the way down the red-carpeted hall.

“I enjoyed it,” he answers, turning slightly to you as he walks, and he fidgets with his rings, “Your band is talented, that’s undeniable.”

You smile, thinking of the girls. The bond you all have is intense, and you can’t help but be proud on their behalves from the compliment.

“You especially,” he grins as he tugs his wallet from his jean pocket and retrieves the key card.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m biased, as a fellow guitarist,” he opens the door and lets you in, “But I’m serious. It’s good.”

You spin to face him once inside, once again taken by the slight smell of shampoo and moisture from his pre-show shower.

“Thank you,” you say genuinely, “Really.”

He hold eye contact as he nods and smiles, and you suddenly don’t feel so on edge. He’s sweet.

“So,” he drums the tops of his thighs and moves to sit on the bed, “You were crazy for trying to argue The Beatles over Cream, y’know. You had this coming.”

You laugh, turning to make your way to the couch, and then—

There is no couch. Just the king bed, large and white in the middle of the room. Your cheeks heat.

“You good?” He asks, as you’ve fallen silent. Your head whips back around to him and you nod.

“You’re gonna make your whole room smell like weed, y’know,” you say, trying to talk yourself into normalcy.

He shrugs, “I don’t care. Better weed than stale hotel.”

You smile and make your way to the edge of the bed. You sit on the very corner, unsure of what else to do. He giggles, you’re pretty sure at your nervousness, but then he gets up and goes to his bag that sits on the desk.

Out of it he retrieves his metal tin and a lighter. He also pulls out a small bag of starbursts, and when he makes his way back to half-lay on the bed, he extends the yellow package to you with his eyebrows raised.

“M’good,” you smile. He nods and sets them aside, opening the metal tin and pulling out a pre roll. He lights up quickly, and the smell calms you instantly.

“You can lay down if you want,” he rasps as he holds in the green hit, “M’not gonna bite.”

The laugh that trills out of you is loud, and it makes him giggle in response.

“I’d hope not,” you try to ease the tension, and then let yourself lay down. You face each other, propped up on your sides a few feet away on opposite sides of the mattress.

He hands you the joint and after you take it, he plops flat onto his back, sinking into the weight of the mattress. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as you inhale.

When they open, his eyes a bit sleepy, he feels his pockets for his phone. You watch him scroll through it as you take another deep hit, and then finally he sighs and sets the device aside.

“I know I said I don’t usually watch movies when I smoke, but I’m not really feeling music right now,” he says. He stretches for the remote on the nightstand, revealing a strip of his stomach above his jeans that makes you blush. “That okay?” he asks.

Nodding, you cup your hand under the joint as the ash accumulates. He notices and gets up to grab an empty cup from near the ice bucket, passing it to you as he settles back onto the bed. This time, he lays up by the headboard, an arm stretched up behind his head casually.

He looks so good. A glimmer of hope crosses you, that maybe he will take this further.

“You wanna pick the movie?” He says, clicking at

the remote, stealing you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, “Go ahead.”

He bites his lip absentmindedly, and yeah, this is bad for you. There’s no denying that you want him, but you know yourself, and you can’t make a move first.

“Pirates?” He smiles at you and points to the TV with the remote.

You swivel your head to find Johnny Depp’s charming, dirty face grinning at you. After a short laugh, you nod. Jake nods back.

Passing him back the joint, you roll to lay on your stomach, parallel to him.

“How you gonna watch the movie if you’re faced this way?” He smarts. You shrug, swiping your hand along the soft plush of the comforter.

“Maybe I just wanna lay here,” you counter.

“Fair,” he puffs on the joint. There’s smoke in the air now, clinging to the mild humidity that seeps in from the summer evening, “So when did you start playing?”

“Guitar?”

He nods, hitting it again.

“Mm,” you ponder, again and again brushing your hand over the fabric, “Maybe twelve or thirteen?”

He nods and passes you the joint. As he holds the smoke in his lungs, he rasps out, “It shows.”

You can’t help your eye roll—while it’s very polite of him, it’s comical in some way that you feel such validation from it.

“What?” he giggles.

“Nothing,” you laugh, “Nothing, thank you.”

“You have a favorite song to play?”

“On stage?”

He shrugs, “Anywhere.”

You scoff, “You should know that’s an impossible question.”

His giggle is effortless, and he shrugs again, “Maybe. Try.”

Taking your last hit, you answer him upon exhale, “Right now? Maybe Red House.”

“God,” his smile is wide and toothy as he takes the joint back.

“What?” You blush at his response.

“Nothing,” he parrots your earlier response, “Good song.”

“You?”

He finishes off the joints and puts it out in the bottom of the cardboard cup; likely a fire hazard, but one that will be disregarded. He pops another starburst into his mouth.

“Right now it’s Orchid,” he smiles, as he talks around the candy “But it changes about every three days.”

“Mm,” you hum in acknowledgement. A gentle silence blankets the room, and in the background, Pirates plays on. You stare are your fingers, mostly, as they play with the edge of a down pillow now. Jake’s eyes flit between the screen and you.

It’s quiet for maybe ten minutes before he finally speaks, his voice now a little more hoarse.

“Wanna drink?”

You look up to him. His eyes are heavily lidded, and he looks relaxed. Only after you’re looking somewhere other than your hands do you realize you’re starting to feel the weed. You nod.

“Like water, or like whiskey?”

Blinking at him, you can’t bring yourself to decide.

“Whiskey it is,” he laughs, “Took too long, silly girl.”

Unable to help it, you bite your lip at the name. It’s laced with affection, or at least you’re pretty sure.

He slides off the bed easily, his jeans making a soft noise against the comforter. You don’t know how he’s always in jeans; perhaps for the aesthetic. The moment your set had ended earlier, you opted for some soft, flowy pants and a cropped shirt to cope with the temperature.

“Just one,” he’s handing you a can before you know it.

“This is soda,” you furrow your brow. He giggles.

“Not just,” he eases the can toward you, “There’s no more cups in here. I poured it in.”

The smell hits you then; the sweet dark liquor mixed with the sugary cola smell. It’s enticing.

You take a heavy swig, and yeah, he was right. He settles back on the bed, feet crossed, back against the headboard. You’re still parallel to him, you head about in line with his waist. As he sips from his drink, he plops his right hand down on the bed freely.

Quickly, his bracelets catch your eye. There’s four, a couple metal and a couple textile. You wonder how he came to have them, and why they all look like they’ve been on him for years.

“These old?” You ask, reaching up to tap one. Your fingertips brush his wrist, but he doesn’t flinch. Unable to think better of it, you continue to toy with one of them. It’s braided cord, very worn, frayed at most edges. Your trace the braided pattern over and over, occasionally bumping his skin. The feeling is electrifying, like you’ve just held hands with your childhood crush for the first time. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Mmhm,” he answers. He takes another drink and then watches you play with it.

“Tell me about them,” you touch another one, a thin silver chain with a small gem pendant.

He takes a soft breath.

“Well. The cord one is from Josh. I’ve had it on about a year. Guess he thought it ‘suited my aesthetic’ or whatever,” he chuckles to himself, “The silver one is from my sister. Think I’ve had that one for three or four years.”

You nod and spin it around his wrist, all but holding his hand at this point. The weed has left you without embarrassment as a crutch, and it feels nice to let your fingertips skirt over his skin.

You point to another woven one, a blue and green friendship bracelet.

“That one is from some gas station in Michigan. A few months ago, before this tour started.”

You nod at his answer and point to the last one, a solid silver bangle with a small, ancient looking symbol.

“From my dad,” he smiles, “No idea where he found it. But I love it.”

The bracelets and your fingers graze his skin gently, and you wish you could stay in the moment forever. It’s tender, and it feels safe. You spare a glance up at him and he’s looking at you like he feels the same. Somehow, it’s more intimate than if he were to just kiss you.

“How bout you, hm?” He lifts his wrist and taps the small woven bracelet on your wrist, “Good story?”

“We all have one,” you say, and then realize that you’ve given very little context, “All the girls. Violet made them in the van during one of the rides in between shows.”

“That’s sweet,” he says softly. If it were anyone else, you’d think they were making fun of you. But not him, with the way he says it.

You nod and keep playing with the bracelets on his wrist, spinning them around and around, tracing them. You’ve mesmerized yourself with them. Eventually, the hair tie on his middle finger catches your eye, and you trail your finger down to circle that. His hand twitches slightly under your touch, but then relaxes.

It’s a natural progression, or at least it feels that way, as you begin to trace up and down his fingers with the nail of yours. The touch is gentle, and you intend for it to be soothing. Just when you’re unsure if it’s too much, and you consider stopping, he murmurs,

“Feels nice.”

You look up and his eyes are closed, his head leaned back against the wall. You take the cue and continue to trace over and over the tan skin with care.

Finally after five or so more minutes, you peek back up at him, and he’s grinning at you.

“Hi,” he barely gets it out before he giggles. You laugh back.

“Hi,”

“I’m high.”

“I had no idea,” you burst into an uncontrollable laughter at the sight of him, eyes heavy. He laughs with you.

“Feels nice,” he says again, though you’re not sure now if he’s talking about the high or you touching his hand.

Your arms tired from propping yourself up, you slouch down against the bed, your hair brushing over his hand. Quickly, you realize you’re cold.

“Cold,” you get out, rubbing the goosebumps over your arm. He lifts his hand to skirt a finger over your arm and feel the goosebumps.

“Get under the blanket,” he says, as if you were dumb for not thinking of that solution. You eye him hesitantly, unsure if you should be reading into this.

“Little wing,” he sighs, affectionately rolling his eyes, “Just get under the fucking blanket. You think too much.”

A little shocked, you laugh, but do just that. You slip off the bed and he does the same, and as you both sink under the plush of the down comforter, you realize how close you are.

For a bit you try to focus on Davy Jones and Will Turner, but then the high leaves you craving to touch him, and you can only ration with your brain in its dazed state for so long. You’re pretty sure he won’t freak out, so you let your head fall against his shoulder.

You can feel and hear him inhale, and you brace yourself for rejection, but all he says is

“C’mere,”

It’s soft, and he’s easing his arm behind you, allowing you to sink into his side if you wish. You look at him, and he’s close, and he still looks very high.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we just cuddled,” he says quietly, “S’no big deal.”

You wish he hadn’t said that, because you wish it could be a big deal. You wish it could snowball, with hands and lips everywhere, a culmination of all the little moments. But if he’s letting it be casual, so be it, it’s better than nothing at all.

Like you’ve just crawled through the desert, and like he is a pool of cool water, you fall into him, slotting perfectly against his side. His arm comes around you and rests on your waist.

“This okay?” He murmurs, barely audible over the TV and the blood rushing in your head. You nod against his chest. “You high too?” You nod again. “Good,” he says quietly.

Try as it might, the movie doesn’t hold your attention whatsoever. All you can focus on is the soft rise and fall of his chest, his body heat, his fingertips and their gentle pressure on your side.

It’s unclear when you drift off. When you wake, the TV is playing some 90’s sitcom at a soft volume. The blue glow from the screen washes over Jake’s face, which you’ve propped yourself up to look over.

He looks dreadfully sweet—lips parted slightly, eyelashes creating small shadows in their wake. His hair is messy, like he raked his hand through it shortly before dozing off.

Your eyes land on the digital clock on the nightstand to his side, where the time glares red: 3:34. Jesus christ, you have to be on the road at 7:30.

One last time, you look at him. The irrational part of you, the part of you that craves warmth, wants to curl back into him and say fuck it. But a few deep breaths later, you know that’s not what this is.

Carefully, you try to slip out from under the comforter, shivering as you slide the cover off your torso.

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks through the night air.

Blinking, you turn to make quick eye contact. He’s rubbing one of his eyes, stretching.

“I don’t know when I fell asleep,” you chuckle softly, “Sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head and plops his hands back into his lap, “S’fine, I did too. You…”

He looks like he wants to say it, too: stay. Or maybe you’re delirious from the late hour. But he chews on his bottom lip a moment, and then pick back up,

“You gotta leave early too, huh?”

You nod, and he nods back.

“Let me walk you down to the lobby,” he murmurs, sliding one of his legs from the comforter. Then he stills.

Suddenly, like a wave of nausea, you are hit with an emotion so unpleasant you fight tears.

If he doesn’t do something now, with you in his hotel bed during the witching hour, craving his touch and so clearly willing, maybe he never will. Maybe it’s just not like that, and this intense and well-fed crush you have is girlish and dumb.

“It’s fine,” you choke out, quickly putting your feet on the ground and searching for your sandals.

“No, I can—“

“It’s fine,” you reiterate, finally kicking on your other shoe and pivoting to the door.

“Hey—“

“Goodnight, Jake,” you get out, hand finding the room door in the dark only based on the rectangle of light coming from the hall.

“Little wing, hey—”

It’s the last thing you hear as the door latches behind you, and barely three steps into the hallway, the hot tears roll down your cheeks.

The bartender in the lobby gives you a concerned look as you rush out the front doors, where you walk a far too long twenty minutes back to your own hotel room.

When you sink into the bed next to Paisley, head pounding, sleep takes you quickly.

-✿✿✿-

In the stark light of the morning, with your head against the bus window, Paisley nudges you about twenty minutes into the drive. Her grin is devilish as she whispers,

“Why’d you come back to the room so late?”

Her look is expectant, much like you were last night. You answer her shakily

“Just lost track of time. Nothing happened.”

She nudges you again and says, “Okay,” with a knowing tone. Instead of arguing, you let your head fall back again my the window. Two more tears escape you before you fiercely wipe them away, determined not to let it get to you. He’s just a boy.

-✿✿✿-

You really should have just gone to the hotel tonight. The lack of sleep from the night before plagues you still after the show, especially on the adrenaline comedown.

But in the spirit of touring, you are convinced by Violet to accompany them to a bar, where you throw back a second vodka cran quickly and accept a hit of Carol’s cigarette.

And then there’s Jake. You can’t quite manage to peel your eyes away from the girl on the bar stool beside him. Her and her charming little grin, the way you can see her lipgloss sparkle from across the way.

Most infuriatingly, the way that Jake gives a wolfish grin back, and his eyes seem darker as he turns to her. The final blow is a flash of his hand skirting over her thigh, dancing over her skin.

Your head snaps to Paisley, “I need a fucking shot.”

She scans your face and seems to sense the panic, but like the sweet being she is, she places a gentle hand on your shoulder and gives a reassuring smile.

“Thought you’d never ask. Lemon drop? Green tea?”

Your head is shaking before her questions are over.

“Whiskey.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip and looks at you, and softly, she starts, “You okay?”

You shake your head again and she nods, going to fetch the shots as you take a shaky breath.

After one more fleeting glance at Jake, with his hand trailing over and over her knee, you swear it off the rest of the evening. There’s nothing you can do; there’s no need to stare at him and cause yourself misery.

“Cheers,” Paisley’s voice is in stereo as she swings around your right side, plopping 4 whiskey shots on the bar table in front of you. “Girls,” she says to get the other’s attention, divvying up the shots.

“Whiskey?” Carol scowls, holding it up in front of her.

“Oh hush,” Paisley smarts, “I said, cheers!”

You clink shot glasses and throw it back, willing the tears away in your eyes. The burn of the liquor does just that, and when you slam the glass down, a small smile finds its way to your face.

When you meet Paisley’s eyes, she’s giving you an inquisitive look. She must read your face.

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, turning back to the bar. You nod and take a sip of your third drink. You can absolutely feel it, so you should probably slow down, but it’s helping squash the anger that had bubbled up in you.

After Paisley returns with the second shot, and after it trials a warm path down your throat, you give her a wide smile. You feel fuzzy and nice.

“There we go,” Paisley giggles and tussles your hair, “Better?”

You nod, giggling.

“Good,” she smile. Her next words are softer, “Forget about him, babe. He’s an idiot, and you’re a hot rockstar.”

She means well, but it makes your chest ache a bit. You push it away with a nod as she pats your shoulder.

Not long after, the room spins. You really should have seen it coming, perhaps you even did, but it hits all at once.

“Paisley,” it slurs out of you, “Gotta go outside.”

Her hair whips everywhere as she spins her head to look at you, her eyeliner smudged and her eyes heavy from the presumable weed she smoked in the bathroom.

“Need me to come?”

You shake your head, giving her a salute as you back away.

“Be safe,” she points a serious finger at you, “Go straight to the hotel.”

Nodding, you make a swift exit into the warm air of the night. You’re somewhere in the desert now, and the air is dry and cool. You inhale it as deep as you can as you watch the neon from the bar signs across the street flicker. They’re pink and green, and it feels like outer space, which makes you giggle.

Willing the nausea away, you begin the short walk to the hotel, and try not to think about Jake. Inevitably, your inebriated brain does not listen, and you’re stuck between wanting to hate him, and wanting his hands all over you.

It’s still on your mind as you open your hotel door, as you slip inside the room and kick off your boots. You stare at the hotel bed, the empty, glaring white sheets. And you don’t want to lay in it alone.

Instead, you squint to look around the room for the ice bucket. You’ll waste some time getting ice and a drink from the vending machine, and perhaps by then, your mind will settle down.

Slipping the key card in the pocket of your denim skirt, you enter the hallway, barefoot and pleasantly drunk. You trudge to the ice room, offering the empty bucket to it for filling. Unable to resist the urge, you pop one of the cold cubes into your mouth and crunch. It’s refreshing, and you smile to yourself as you make your way back out.

There’s a figure in the hallway, about half way down and blurry, and you wonder to yourself for a moment if it really is him, or if you’re that drunk.

You turn to disregard it, to head to the vending machine, but sure enough;

“Hey.”

His voice is warm, and so wonderfully gentle. You hate how gentle it is.

You turn back, against your own will. And there’s Jake, wandering the few feet down the hall to you, dragging his hand through his messy hair.

“Hi.” You answer back, popping another ice cube in your mouth. He stops a few feet ahead of you and gives you a once over, and that shit eating grin appears on his face.

“No shoes?” He nods down at your feet.

Swallowing the water in your mouth, you nod and hold up the bucket, “Just wanted ice.”

He nods and rubs his hand over his flushed cheek. He’s drunk too.

“Wanna come in? I have drinks in the mini fridge,” he jabs his thumb in the vicinity of his hotel room.

You are silent for a long time, far too long for a normal conversation. You’re attempting to weight all of the options: should you, shouldn’t you, who cares, should you care, etc, until finally he breaks the silence:

“I’m just offering you a nightcap, I’m not gonna eat you alive, doll.” He smirks, and jesus christ, you wish it didn’t make your stomach turn the way it does.

You try to stay upset at him as he winks. Reluctantly, with an eye roll, you move to follow him to the room. He holds the door open wordlessly.

“Did you have a fun night?” you ask with a tone, walking in and setting the ice bucket on the desk. Might as well get the dig in before the liquor catches up to you fully, and you’re too drunk to be witty.

He nods and throws his phone and wallet on the bed, “You?”

You give a curt not back.

“You want a drink?” He offers.

“No liquor,” you sigh, “Already drunk.”

He nods and starts to fetch a sprite from the fridge, cracking it open as he hands it to you. His hands are large, you notice for the hundredth time. His fingers are long.

“So, why’d you ask like that? He says, reaching for his own soda. You step close to him, probably too much so, but it’s like he’s got his own god damn gravitational pull. When he comes back up from the fridge, you’re a few feet away.

“What?” you ask.

“How my night was,” he clarifies, cracking his soda can open and leaning with one arm against the hotel furniture. He takes a long sip.

You shrug at his question, “Just seems like you had a fun time,” you raise your brows and take another sip. You’re being petty, but you don’t care.

He studies your face for a moment and scrunches his brow down, pressing his lips together. After a second, he shakes his head,

“Just say it, whatever it is you’re not saying.”

You blink at him. You should leave, probably. But the words pour from you before you can stop. You set your soda down on the desk with some level of aggression. He sets his down too, softer.

“You played with my hair,” you say, emotion creeping up in your voice.

He watches you, his lips parted, his drunk mind trying to understand what has just come out of your mouth.

“You said I have a sunset aura. We fell asleep together.”

The thoughts are disjointed, but it’s what comes to your mind.

“I thought you liked me,” you finally get it out—the meat of what you’re trying to say. You feel embarrassed, childish and petulant, “I thought—”

Your throat begins to shut as tears start in your eyes. The embarrassment is combusting into anger, fueled by the alcohol.

“I thought—”

“I do,” he interjects before you can say it again, “I do like you.”

You’re in stunned silence for a moment at the admission, but then the words find you.

“Then why the other girl?” You force the words out through your tight throat, though they wobble, “Why—why do that when I was in your bed last night? You had me.”

He winces at that, barely, but you see it. He licks his lips and furrows his brow more, standing with a hand hooked through one of his belt loops. He doesn’t seem angry, though, maybe confused.

“Little wing,” he sighs finally, with such a genuine regret in his voice that you almost soften, “I don’t know,” he rubs his face over his hand, “I just flirt, I don’t—”

“You could flirt with me,” you know it comes out harsh and borderline desperate, but the liquor has ripped down your walls, and your frustration is glowing hot at the surface.

“It’s not just that, I just—,” he sucks in a breath and shakes his head, “I’m fucking drunk, doll, I don’t—“

“Spit it out, Jake,” you have no patience for niceties.

“I just wanted a hook up,” he blurts, “But I didn’t, I mean, obviously, I’m here,” he holds his hands out at the room, “I just—”

“What is this, Jake?” Forget soft, you’re angry now, “You like me but don’t want to hook up with me? I didn’t ask you if you wanted to be friends, I asked if you like me—”

“I do,” His voice is soft and his eyes are sad, and as he says it, he steps forward and touches your cheek. Try as you might to maintain your anger, the touch takes your breath. You want it: you want him to be soft with you, to touch you like that.

“I do,” he repeats as he strokes over your cheek with his thumb, gentle as a breeze, “You do remind me of a sunset. Little wing, I fucking—” he laughs, breathless, and you can do nothing but watch, “I’m damn near obsessed with you.”

Out of your stunned silence, you manage a hushed response, “Then why not me? At the bar…I…your hand…”

He shakes his head solemnly and strokes your cheek again, “Because I don’t—I don’t know how to do that, doll. I don’t really…I just usually fuck girls and then that’s it. I’m not really used to much more, y’know, with the touring, and,” he sucks in a breath, collecting himself, “And I don’t want to do that with you.”

“I…” you search for words that never come, “Jake…,”

“You’re too sweet,” he’s suddenly so close, leaning in with whisky on his breath. His cheek nuzzles yours, “You’re so fucking…sweet, fucking beautiful, and feminine,” his lips drag over your cheekbone, “talented, special, pretty little thing…”

“Jake…” it’s all you can manage.

“And I can’t…” he nips at your jaw and your head is spinning, “Fuck, I can’t do… that… to you,”

“Why?” it comes out as a whimper, “Why can’t we?”

You can’t bring yourself to care about any of his cryptic warnings: you just want him.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t—I’m drunk, this isn’t—“ His hand leaves your jaw and he pulls away.

You tighten your fist into his jacket lapels, strangling the black leather fringe, and he suddenly comes to, his eyes locking on yours.

“What are you scared of?” You bite out.

He sucks in a breath and his eyes scan over your face.

“I’m drunk, doll, I really…we should really talk when I’m not.”

“Why? So you can phrase it better? Just say it,”

He licks his lips, “I don’t want to mess this up. I like my time with you, I like how we just…how easy it is. It’s sweet. I don’t wanna ruin it. I don’t wanna fuck and then never talk again, or make it all complicated, or…” he shakes his head, “I just wanted it to stay sweet.”

The admission is gentle, and you ease up on him, speaking softer.

“I didn’t take you as careful.”

“It’s just you, little wing,” his eyes scan your face, soft brown and kind, “Just with you.”

The silence invites a palpable tension, suspended between both of your anticipating glances.

As precautious as he speaks, it seems his body cannot help but surrender to the temptation, and he leans in again. Feather soft, his lips brush yours. You can feel his breath, and the scent of him is dizzying.

“M’sorry,” he’s slurring suddenly, “I’m—um…” he falls silent and he moves to rest his forehead against your temple. You can feel his shaking breath.

Your heads are pressed together, breathing against each others necks. In your chest, your heart is a drum.

You know you should be sorry too; this isn’t how you want to kiss him for the first time. But he smells so good, and his skin is warm, and his hands on your waist are making your spine tingle, and you can’t care about anything that should or shouldn’t happen.

“Jake?” you sigh.

“Yeah?” his voice sounds strained.

“Can you stop being sorry and just fucking kiss me?” you hiss against his jaw.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, slamming back into you. His lips are hungry, and you’re needy.

His hands are against your bare ribs as he licks into your mouth, and his palms pressed warm against your skin makes a heat flare in your stomach.

He backs you up a couple feet to push you up against the wall as he kisses down your neck. His hands are wandering, skirting hesitatingly over your breasts, his thumb dips under your skirt hem into your navel and then retreats. His hand falls to your hip, flirting with the hem of your skirt. Your legs open for him and it makes him whine.

“Can I—“ he swallows.

“Please,”

His hand moves along the front of your thigh, and then it’s between them, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin slowly. Then, it moves up to your panties, touching softly over you.

“Warm,” he breathes, like he didn’t even mean to say it aloud.

“Jake,” you whine, “Please.”

“Oh,” it’s nearly a whine, and his eyes are squeezed shut, “Don’t say my name like that, doll, or this is gonna get out of hand quick.”

The words make your legs clamp together around his hand.

“You like the thought of that, huh?” He nips at your ear, “Don’t tempt me. Let’s not—“ there’s a sharp inhale as his thumb brushes the hem of your panties, nearly dipping his finger under the fabric, “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Jesus christ, little wing, you’re makin’ this hard for me,” he withdraws his thumb and skirts it over the front of your panties, “You don’t—“ his breath hitches, and he looks directly into your eyes, “You don’t wanna wait?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “I just—fuck, I just didn’t want it to be like this,”

“What do you want?” You ask, and you mean it. He draws his hand away from your thigh.

“I’m not good at this, like I said, I just—I don’t know what this looks like tomorrow if we do that tonight.”

“I want you to want me bad enough to not care about any of that,” it comes out of you before you can decide better.

“Oh, doll,” he’s breathless, shaking his head. He meets you in another desperate kiss, and okay, maybe you’ll believe him.

“I want you,” he says it with a shudder in his breath. The back of his hand graces your cheek, “God, do I want you,” he looks at your for a long moment in silence before he takes your hand and brings it down to the front of his jeans, where you can feel the hard warmth of him beneath the clasp. It makes your cheeks hot.

“See?” He slots your fingers with his, then, “ But I can’t not care…” he kisses your cheek, “Even drunk, I know that.”

“Please?” You give him doe eyes, and you reach for his hand, placing it back on the hem of your skirt, “Jake, I…please, touch me.”

“Listen to you,” his eyes roll back in his head, “Fuck, I don’t even recognize myself, I normally…mm, jesus you’re hard to resist,”

He takes a deep breath, and then removes both of his hands, holding them up in the air as he releases the breath. They come back to cradle your face.

“Doll…,” he says softly, “Not tonight. I’m sorry, I wish—“ he clears his throat, “You’re welcome to stay here, but I can’t do that tonight,”

He shocks you with the display of reservation, and suddenly you’re hit with a wave of embarrassment.

He can tell.

“Hey,” he kisses you softly, “It’s alright. Just—I can’t do that with you like this. It’s not fair to you.”

You nod softly and embarrassed tears begin to sting at your eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he wipes them with his thumb and kisses you again, so tender your heart aches, and you want to be mad but all you can do is kiss back.

“You can stay here,” he says against your lip, “I can hold you.”

The thought of laying there with him after all this makes you almost frantic, you wish it could go any other way.

For the second night in a row, he’s sighing as you turn away.

“Little wing,”

It’s sad, and in the pit of your stomach, nausea brews. You’re already walking away when he repeats it, and because your body cannot help it, you turn back to him.

“What?” it’s far harsher than you meant; you can see it in the way he recoils that it stings.

“You can stay,” he offers again, “Please—I—It’s alright, I promise.”

A thousand replies run through your mind, but you settle on a heavy breath. You don’t think even if you could put the disappointment into words, that he might understand, or that it might make any difference. You don’t want to spend the night chastely laying beside him while you wonder again if he wants you the same way you want him. So you don’t.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you say softly, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

And for the second night in a row, you let the hotel door shut as he’s saying the nickname again.

“Little wing—”

fin.

-✿-

tag list <3

@starshine-wagner @dannywagners-chesthair @writingcold @kels-gvf @aconfusedhippie @fearless-wanderer @thehourbeforesunrise @madz-0217 @gretavanbitches @doodle417 @rhythm-of-space @milkgemini @st4rdust-ch0rds @myownparadise96 @gretavanfleas @josh-iamyour-mama @spark-my-nature @saltydogkiszka @jordierama @sammiejane22 @jakekiszkastaurussuit @jake-kiszkas-smirk @babyhoneygvfarchive @gabyvanfleet @gretavanslutz @dannyandthekiszkas @freckled-wonderland @why-ami-on-here @kay-jordan @pr41sethemoon @watchingovergvf2 @gretavandann @cornychip @gabbiegvf @almost-a-ladybug @gretavanbear @laurenlovesgretavanfleet @jaketlover @dykejake

[that-basic-simp]

To My Love

JQ X Fem!Reader CW: Suggestive towards the end WC: 1.2k+ A/N: Hope y'all like fluff. And excuse my terrible song writing skills.

"How do people write this? It sounds so cheesy and cliche," I looked down at her mother, who was chuckling.

"That's how things were back then. People would swoon one another with love letters and romantic acts. Date nights with roses and chocolate at the end. And to sweeten the deal, a nice night alone together."

I let out a sigh, running my hand through my mohawk, "I-I just don't want to fuck it up."

"Odessa, how long have you and Y/N been together?"

"About five years now."

"And have ya fucked up?"

"Multiple times. More than I can count," I mumbled.

"And does Y/N still love you?"

"Yes."

"Look at your hand, Odessa."

Lifting my left hand up, there sat a silver band on my ring finger.

"You two came together because you had one common thing: your love for one another. Listen, Odessa, Y/N absolutely adores ya and you know that more than anyone. And you adore 'er. Whatever ya do for her to celebrate your love, she'll love it and she'll love you. No matter what."

I smiled, nodding my head, "Thank you, Mrs. L/N."

Walking out of her old house, the house I held a lot of memories whenever we were getting to know one another. I lingered for a bit, especially by her room. I stood at the door frame, peering in to find the lone mattress on the ground. A smile ran across my face, remembering the night of the sand storm where we held one another close. Where I knew I had feelings for her. Even if she was the first one to confess, I had fallen for her that moment right there. When we were making our weapons together. I knew she was the one.

"Everything alright, Odessa?" her mother asked.

"Everything is," I said and walked out of the house, thanking her once more.

Heading back to Junkertown, I entered through the gate and walked back towards a shed only I knew about. It was well hidden and I made sure no one followed me. Reaching it, I stepped inside and closed the door, locking it. It was small, but big enough to hold me and a few things that were necessary. Kneeling onto the ground, I pulled something out from underneath the desk. It was old and dusty, which I had to rub the dust off before grabbing it. Standing up, I placed it on the desk and ran my hand along it, letting out a sigh.

"Dad," I whispered to myself. "Please help me on this one. I-It's been a while since I was able to do this. But it is necessary to ask for your help, as you were the one to teach me."

Moving my hands to where the clasps were, I flicked them open and opened up the top of the case, revealing an old acoustic guitar. I've always played electric of bass guitars, but not acoustic. The last time I played it was the night before he and my siblings died. I had never touched it after all this time, but I felt the need to open it up. The pads of my fingers lightly ran over the strings, a dull sound coming from them. Closing my eyes, a single tear slid down my face as I closed the case, locking it tightly.

Grabbing the handle, I removed it from the desk and walked out of the shed, heading back towards the office building where I would spend most of my time making sure it was up to par from when I last played it. I had to restring and tune it, but actually having it in my hands made them tremble. The memories came back and hit me like a train, making me want to put it away. But, I had to. I had to do this. Not only for myself, but for Y/N.

Blinking my eyes open, I found the spot where Odessa slept to be empty. Slowly rising, I found a little note on my bedside table along with a vase of actual roses. I smiled, my heart beating fast as I reached over and opened the note.

"Y/N,

Sorry I wasn't able to be here when you woke up. Something came up. I should be finished by the time you're awake. Hope to see you soon.

With love, Odessa."

I got up, quickly got changed, grabbed what I needed and headed towards the throne room. Reaching the building, I opened up the door and stepped inside, hearing something coming from the throne room. Closing the door, I headed up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Odessa?"

"Come in, Y/N."

I opened the door and found a sight to behold. There were flower petals on the ground, the throne room was actually clean for once, candles everywhere, the curtains pulled together, and she was sitting on the couch that was against the right hand wall. I smiled, closing the door and locking it. Making my way over, I sat down next to her.

"Did you do all of this by yourself?"

"I did," she smiled.

"Dez, ya know ya don't have to do anythin' for me."

"I want to give you everythin'," she whispered, reaching up to cup my jaw. "You deserve everythin'."

We both smiled and she leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too, Dez."

"And to show ya," she pulled away and reached behind her, grabbing an acoustic guitar by the neck of the instrument. Setting it on her lap, she let out a sigh, some tears forming in her eyes.

"Dez, ya alright?"

"I haven't played an acoustic since my father and siblings passed."

"I-I'm sorry to hear. B-But why are ya?"

"Because of this," she said, tuning it before strumming it quietly. "Just sit back and relax. And I apologize for my terrible singin' voice. I usually sing along to my metal songs."

"It's alright, Dez."

She cleared her throat and started to play the instrument, a soft and calming tune coming from it.

"To my love, with all my heart You've scared the demons away Chased every doubt from my head Held my heart in your hands tightly To where you fear dropping it

To my love, with all my soul You've shown me what love is In the harshest of places Especially a place like this But I know you You would have done it either way

To my love, with everything that is You are the one to make me feel Love in all the right and wrong places But it is a gift you bring to me As you are the gift itself

To my love, I love you."

Tears slid down my face as she finished the little song, her eyes finding mine. A smile formed on her lips as she put the guitar down, pulling me into her lap. I wrapped my arms and legs around her, crying in her shoulder as she ran her hand up and down my back.

"Shh, shh, there there, I got ya, love," she whispered in my ear.

"I love you, Odessa."

"I love you, too, Y/N. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Pulling away, I grabbed what I had made her for today. Handing it to her, she smiled widely.

"Ya made this for me?"

"Of course I did."

She leaned towards me and pressed a kiss to my lips.

"Thank you, love," she said after she pulled away. "But ya know what would make today even better?"

"What?" I asked, smirking, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

And we did just that.

[megafaunatic]

fer @vinelark tagged me so here are my

5 no skip albums

HARD MODE: NO MOUNTAIN GOATS (JUST ABOUT EVERY MOUNTAIN GOATS ALBUM IS A NO SKIP ALBUM)

💿 you will not die (deluxe version) (2018) by nakhane. nakhane has such a clear, beautiful voice, and their instrumentation is by turns sparse and lush, bright and unsettling. listen to "by the gullet" with good headphones for a really weird and cool binaural intro with the syncopated marimba (?). also i love really deep sounds so when they hit me with the cello AND the fat bass kick drum AND the natural depth of their voice, i am IN IT!!! also i'm a lyrics guy first and foremost and their lyrics are so interesting and beautiful

💿 transangelic exodus (2018) by ezra furman. WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE? incredibly romantic. trans and gay as hell. fucking full of rage. explicitly jewish trans gay angel (i love those). i love a concept album! her scratchy punk vocals combined with fuzzy electric guitars and intense drums kill every time. every time i listen to this album i hear something new

💿 three futures (2017) by torres. ugh torres's voice. UGH THE MUSIC VIDEO FOR THREE FUTURES BY TORRES!!! what can i say i love a melodic low voice over lofi droning. and synths. god i love synths. this whole album is like a thick gauge compression spring: the instrumentation on many songs works on a rapid beat while the vocals are drawn out and almost strained. and then when they synchronize (like in much of "helen in the woods") the tension is released and you feel it in your gut!

💿 ripely pine (2013) by lady lamb. the violin key changes in the crest of "you are the apple" changed my life. next question! ok but actually half of these songs are 5+ minutes long and every one earns it. it's like every song is a little opera. the transition from fairly standard acoustic love song to [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] in "crane your neck" is SOOOOOO!!! holy fuck!!! it's so hot when women yell

💿 pony (2019) by orville peck. ok well first of all more musicians should make it so clear that their persona as a musician is a character they're playing and not a 1:1 reflection of who they are in real life. second of all have i mentioned that i love low voices singing beautifully? men are so scared to sing beautifully. it's a wasteland out there. it's like orville peck and fucking. michael bublé holding down the fort. anyway every song on this album is so fucking fun and boppy, i love a steel guitar. really good album for walking to work to (beat of most songs is comparable to walking speed) and singing really loud. thank you orville peck for saving country!

thank you for tuning into lore's music hour! everyone go listen to all 5 albums! you're welcome!

i tag @houtaroo @whatisthiswitchcraft @uhuraisgay @rose-indigo-and-tom AND @sleepnoises

[loremaster]

me: ok i need to use my time wisely and edit some of these scans so i can--

also me: NDA BAND AU HEADCANONS GO

yakou: guitar (chords) + vocals. was used to being just a sad lonely man with a beat-up acoustic guitar, busking at the subway for minimal tips... until he put up a flyer and miraculously got himself a ragtag family of musicians to play along with. usually plays electric guitar for power chords (fills out the sound nicely) but will switch back to acoustic sometimes. he's got a good idea of what kind of sound works in the industry, and doesn't want the band to go down the same path of failure that he did as a solo artist... but his ideas can be a little outdated sometimes. these bright young musicians help open his eyes to the possibilities of what music can be. .....imagine if mr shue from glee wasn't a rapper or a creep no never mind i can't deny it any longer. he WOULD try rapping (and be bad at it)

desuhiko: guitar (lead). wants to do vocals too, but has to earn his mic privileges back after an awkward onstage confession to a certain reporter (and subsequent public rejection). his smaller fingers can't handle the same chord fingerings that yakou can (no matter how much he tells you otherwise) BUT he's real good with those fast licks and bright high-pitched melodies. he's CONSTANTLY practicing and coming up with new song ideas... which would be great if yakou wasn't constantly getting rickrolled at 5am

fubuki: the drummer!!! she keeps the time!!!! completely untrained, can't read sheet music, can't tell a sharp from a flat, but she's got powerful instincts (her internal sense of tempo is unmatched). as such, the language yakou has to use to direct her is a bit different than anyone else. think kronk in the kitchen. if he wants a slow latin 4/4, he'll tell her something like "gimme a smooth elevator ride with lots of clave" and she's got it!!

vivia: bassist. comes from an orchestral background but got fed up with the concert rigamarole. most of his classical music references are lost on the group. he's got an electric bass that he brings with him, but he keeps his concert bass at the studio because it's too heavy to lug around. he can often be found - you guessed it - sleeping inside the case with his arms crossed like a vampire. as the band's bass player he's usually more subdued, content to drone on in the background, but when he pops off, he POPS OFFFFFF

halara: keyboard. absolute fucking wizard who can sightread anything you put in front of them. classical etudes, jazz standards, pop hits, you name it. halara has a big ego and usually does not want to show up to practice, because they know they can nail any performance the night of (and they'd be right... if it wasn't a team effort). if you asked them why they chose to play piano you'd get an answer about something like demonstrating precision and skill, but the real answer is that keyboard cat has been living in their head rent free for... *checks youtube* 16 years

yuma: the roadie!!!! he's yakou's assistant who runs around venues flagging down stage managers, grabbing coffees, printing sheet music, etc. anytime the gang wants him to get on stage, he always denies any claims of musical talent, but one time desuhiko handed him a saxophone and forced him to play Run Away With Me and he did it perfectly the first try. what's up with this kid?

the band is called the Nocturnal Detectives and they get calls from people looking for actual detectives all the time

[bargainoriley]

Obscured By Clouds (1972)

1. Obscured by Clouds

The synth intro here is really cool!! Along with the groovy drumbeat. And then the guitars kick in, making the song feel really cool and ominous! I’m already intrigued by this song and how the rest of the album is going to be! I love synths in rock songs, so this already sounds awesome! (Kind of reminds me Who’s Next by the Who, which also used synths extensively.)

2. When You’re In

Oooooo I love the transition here! The guitar riff here is really cool! Along with the keyboard and drums. Feels very epic! I’m already head banging. One of my favorites off this album!

 3. Burning Bridges

Ooooo the intro here is really cool! Especially the keyboard and guitar! And I really like the use of/switch of Rick’s and David’s voices! And then they harmonize beautifully! The guitar solo here is also lovely/very reminiscent of George Harrison’s playing. This feels like a song from the More album, along with the previous songs, but much more well done musically! You can hear they are more experienced here musically!

 4. The Gold It's In The...

Oooh I love the guitar and rock n roll/hard rock vibes here! It feels very groovy! This is exactly the kind of rock I really really like! The guitar solo is great and David’s voice here is as well. One of my personal favorite songs on this album. It has a great melody as well!  Kind of feels like something Led Zeppelin or any other 70s hard rock band would bring out.

 5. Wots Uh... the deal

The acoustic guitar is very lovely! The chorus here is also just really lovely! The melody is divine, and this song just has feel good vibes! Also very relaxing! The lyrics here are also particularly good! The harmonies also really add to the song! And then there’s pretty piano solos as well! Love me some piano solos from Rick!!! And the guitar solo here just adds to the vibes and is also reminiscent of George Harrison. Also one of my personal favorites from this album!

 6. Mudmen

Oooooo the synths here are really good as well as the piano (they really add to a dreamy atmosphere as if you’re in the clouds)! And I love the slow tempo here as well! Very relaxing and intimate feeling. The chord progression here is also so good!! And then we get a beat drop, which makes the song even cooler! Definitely reminds me of something from DSOTM! 

 7. Childhood’s End

The strings intro here is really beautiful and ominous!! And then we get the acoustic and electric guitars and the rest of the instruments! David’s voice is really good here, as is the melody! This song kind of reminds me of Have A Cigar! The improvisations here are also great!

 8. Free Four

The synths combined with the acoustic guitar are cool! I really like the contrast of the happy-sounding instrumental and really dark lyrics! I love deceptively happy songs a lot! Roger’s voice is also great! And then the electric guitar solos hit in the instrumental interludes!!! And make the songs even cooler! One of my personal favorites as well!

 9. Stay

The piano intro is already lovely!! The special effects/wah wah on the guitar are also cool! And Rick’s voice is also really lovely (as always)! The melody here is also so goood (and sounds like Shine On You Crazy Diamond)! The chorus here is especially good! One of my personal favorites as well!

 10. Absolutely Curtains 

Very cool ominous synth/keyboard intro!!! And also really lovely melody! Kind of reminds me of Aphex Twin/Kid A. and also of SOYCD. And then there’s a choir singing! It’s a cool idea, but it sounds really offkey and kind of bad and doesn’t fit with the song that well. 

 

In general, I think this album is pretty weak in comparison to Meddle, but I still liked it! I feel that this is just a much better version of More/did More‘s concepts better and just sounds so much better. There’s also many cool, underrated gems. I would listen to this again! It gives me an autumn vibe, tbh (Atom Heart Mother gives me spring vibes and Meddle Summer vibes, and this album gives me autumn vibes) Next up is the mythical album DSOTM! Since that album just has so much going on lyrically, I’m not going to touch on this album in that aspect since a lot of people already did it better and my thoughts would be way too long (way longer than my echoes thoughts), but I will try to include some lyrical stuff here and there :)

[queenimmadolla]

have you heard the song "more than words" by extreme??? i feel like thats SOOOO an eddie song like... him playing it on his acoustic guitar and singing it for reader on a rainy day 🥺 just soft eddie 💜😭

my hand flew over my mouth, i am FLABBERGASTED that my puny brain has never granted me this concept before omg, pls I gotta turn it into a drabble, I GOTTA!

warnings: fluff and mentions of cyanide (he’s not gonna do it, he’s just in a silly goofy mood)

You loved rainy days in general, but rainy days at Eddie’s trailer were the epitome of peace. You’d slept over the night before and when you’d woken to the pretty trill of raindrops hitting the outside of the trailer, it was obvious the day was also going to be a lazy one.

It was spent co-existing in his messy ass room (that in itself seemed to comfort you for some reason), Wayne was still asleep so you didn’t want to disturb him anymore than you had to, having already washed up earlier.

You were curled on top of a blanket piled into the corner of Eddie’s bed, thoroughly engrossed in the latest edition of Heavy Metal. You’d developed a little bit of an obsession with it. Eddie was spread out on the bed, his legs parallel to you as he worked on a couple of chords for a song Corroded Coffin was working on. Since Wayne was still asleep, it was all acoustic so he could be as quiet as possible, though Wayne slept like the dead. (You once had to settle a very drunk Eddie in for bed after a night at the Hideout and Eddie had managed to knock just about everything noisy down, banging into the little furniture the trailer housed. Wayne hadn’t even stirred but the second you touched the remote to turn the TV off after you noticed he fell asleep with it on, his eyes had shot open.)

You’d almost been done with the Clan of the Cave Bears story when Eddie’s playing turned into something soft, much too delicate for Corroded Coffin’s discography. You looked up from the magazine to find his stare already on you as he strummed.

His lips curled into a pleased smile when he realized he had your attention.

You’d heard Eddie sing a million times already. Still didn’t stop you from internally (and more often than not, externally) swooning.

“Saying "I love you" is not the words I want to hear from you. It's not that I want you, not to say but if you only knew.” He started crooning out, fingers gently tapping against the body of the guitar, in rhythm with the beat and breaks.

You were absolutely enchanted with him, cheeks warm under his attention and very shy, your face partially hidden by the magazine. Regardless of how long the two of you had been together, he still gave you butterflies.

Eddie loved the effect he had on you, which is why he loved to keep his focus on you. Well, that and he was perpetually mesmerized by your existence and your pretty face.

By the time the song was concluded—Eddie letting his fingers freestyle with the last couple of chords—you were a puddle on the bed and radiating happiness.

He pursed his lips in exaggeration but you could still make out the corners of them twisting up, he was trying to contain his own happiness.

“I like that one.”

“I love you,” He replied and you laughed. “I like it, too. Not too terrible.”

You rolled your eyes in fondness. Eddie had taught himself to play it, which meant something considering he didn’t bother learning songs he didn’t like. Unless, it was to impress you, of course.

“You like it.”

“I love you,” he repeated, then proceeded to send you the world’s most fake, menacing glare. “So, you’re just not gonna say it back, huh? That’s fine. I mean I’m totally swallowing cyanide tonight, but it’s fine. AHEM.”

“You said you didn’t want to hear it from me!” You were referring to the first verse of the song.

“See, that’s the last time I ever sing anything I didn’t write. Thanks a lot, Extreme.” 

Eddie readjusted the guitar in his arms, nose haughtily upturned and when you only laughed again, eyes crinkled at how amusing your boyfriend was, he chuckled and set the guitar down so it was leaning against the bed before stretching his arms out, fingers clenching and unclenching as he made grabby hands.

“Would you just come over here already? I know you hate me but you could show me some affection, it’s not like I just serenaded your panties off or anything.” 

You were still smiling as you set the magazine down to crawl over to him.

“That’s right, come to daddy.” Eddie gathered you up in his arms, yanking you onto his lap as you shifted around to curl into him, his chin resting on your head.

“Shut up!” You swatted his side, pressing your smile into his neck.

“You’re so mean to me.”

“No, I’m not! I’m simply creatively nice to you.”

Eddie guffawed, chest shaking with his chuckles. You leaned back a little to look up at him and he angled his head down to meet your gaze.

“I love you. Very much. Like, with all of my heart. That organ is all yours. And thank you for singing to me, I love it when you do that.”

Eddie leaned down to give you a kiss. You assumed it would be an innocent one so when his tongue came out to play, it caught you by surprise. 

“Eddie!” 

“Shhh, just let me put it in your mouth.”

“That’s what he said,” you mumbled as you leaned back in.

“That’s what I’m gonna say,” he promised, grinning so wide you were practically kissing his teeth.

“Childish.”

“No, I’m your baby.”

“You’re my baby.” You agreed as he pulled you under the blankets to snuggle the rest of the day away.

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Current Top Ten 2NE1 Songs

Okay, I mentioned "Gotta Be You" a little while ago, and I've been streaming 2NE1's discography nonstop since then. So now I have to impulse-write this one, because I forgot how much I love their music and I absolutely must screech about it!! I think EXID is my favorite second-gen group, actually, but 2NE1 is a very close second--they have the kind of star power that I'm completely in awe of. I got into 2NE1 in 2020, via Angelina from ktube, so I've never experienced a comeback from them (though let's just say Park Bom's "Do Re Mi Fa Sol" took over my life for a good while when it came out), but I've still made so many memories with their music over the past four years & have plenty to say about it!

1. Gotta Be You

One of those perfect pop songs--it's almost four minutes long (cue the cheering from fifth-gen stans!!), and each moment feels perfectly engineered to be a dopamine rush all on its own. It's bright and full of life, and even after four years of being a mainstay on my playlists, I still find myself obsessing over this one.

2. Fire

This could easily be my favorite debut ever, though I'd hate to overlook Lucy's "Flowering" like that! The 2NE1 ladies are SO commanding in this song, and it's crammed full of hooks that have stood the test of time. Even with its quilted-together approach to song structure, "Fire" is pretty much infinitely danceable & never feels jarring. It's a similar style of campy dance-pop to 4Minute's debut with "Hot Issue" (which I also love), but "Fire" is constructed so much more carefully--it has an incessant energy that "Hot Issue" doesn't, and it shows off 2NE1's capabilities so impressively!

3. Lonely

This is definitely the most obvious pick here--of course "Lonely" is in the top three. For newbies: before Blackpink's "Stay", there was 2NE1's "Lonely". This one is such an easy listen, a comforting ballad that never tests your patience. Its hook isn't a big final chorus that you have to wait for, it's the steady presence of the chorus throughout the song that's so simple, yet so satisfying. Though this may not be what you expect from a hit 2NE1 song, it's iconic in its own way.

4. Come Back Home - Unplugged Ver.

If you've ever heard me talk about Blackpink's "Whistle - Acoustic Ver", this should come as no surprise! These two songs occupy similar spaces in my mind. I love that we got this unplugged version, without the beat drop, because it really gives the sadness and longing of "Come Back Home" room to breathe. And the 2NE1 ladies really take advantage of that, too--their line deliveries are crammed with interesting details that really make this track special. Also, CL's rap over acoustic guitar is such a highlight.

5. It Hurts (I usually listen to the Japanese version!)

Yes, this is the third ballad in a row, sorry! This one took me a while to get, but now I'm wailing "YOU'RE NOT MINE ANYMORE !!!!!" right along with them. This whole song is one really slow build, so it took me a while to find the patience for it--but the payoff, with those big emotive high notes, is so worth it.

6. Scream

You really have to look past the second-gen cringe for this one, but I'm more than willing, because "Scream" has quite a bit of depth to it behind that grating post-chorus. This is the best use of Park Bom's vocals like, ever, I think--she sets the chorus on fire. And that bridge is heavenly; after CL's first "I fell in love", my heart melts.

7. Don't Cry (Park Bom solo)

This song saved a friendship for me once, funny enough. I know not everyone loves Park Bom's voice as much as I do--she doesn't have the range of abilities that a lot of other vocalists do, so I get it--but I find her performance here, paired with that fuzzy early-2010's production, just so wonderfully soothing.

8. Ugly

A once-in-a-generation kind of chorus, and 2NE1 have the vocals to back it up.

9. Falling in Love

Yeah, sue me, "Falling in Love" is in the top ten. This is trash, sure, but it's exactly my kind of trash. For being as annoying as it is, this song has some legitimately gorgeous vocal sections, too (what is this, an NCT song?). Like, Minzy's voice in the verses? Oh my god. And CL's first-verse rap may well be 2NE1's best--it's fast-paced but sooo catchy, it flows easily but has quite a bit of kick to it. In conclusion, I can see how people think this is an absolute abomination, but I've never had a bad time listening to it--and I listen to it a lot, believe it or not!

10. Please Don't Go (CL & Minzy)

After I heard the chorus once, I knew I'd never be able to stay away from this song. Be warned: the second-gen cringe is strong here, so this won't be for everyone, but CL & Minzy really perform the hell out of it--they bring "Please Don't Go" some clarity, and it ends up a really addictive pop anthem! And that final chorus, when the vocals (the HARMONIES!!!) get to take center stage?? This song is a gem, truly.

Honorable Mentions: You & I (Park Bom solo), Hate You, Missing You, I am the best (obligatory), I Love You, Hello Bitches (CL solo), Spring (Park Bom & Dara), Lovely (Minzy solo) (there's also a Tagalog version of this one, which is so cool!)

[oliverreedmasterass]

Starcatchers 1x4 - Fate of the Faithful

Synopsis: It's media day for the GVF guys! What could go wrong? (everything) Danny struggles to hold back the truth, Jake takes advice from a higher up, and Sam and Josh can't stop saying the wrong thing. Their manager has never been more stressed.

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: mentions of physical harm (brief), caffeine addiction, Keith Richards

Notes: Thank you, as always, to @feelslikejakey for the original concept, and @jmkho for literally writing the ending for me because my writer's block was so unbelievably bad AND making the incredible title/gif!! 🫶🫶🫶

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Jake, Josh, and Sam are in an old-fashioned diner, eating breakfast and sipping on tall mugs of black coffee. Sam sets down his fork with a clatter and leans closer to his brothers so he can conspire. 

SAM: Something’s different with Daniel. 

JAKE: (raising an eyebrow, mouth full of bacon) How so? 

SAM: It’s like he’s more gullible or something. Usually he’s the most headstrong one in the band, but I’ve been messing with him a lot more recently, and he’s falling for it. 

JOSH: You might be onto something, I convinced him that Genovia is a real country yesterday and he didn’t even Google it to double check. 

JAKE: I can’t see that happening. I bet he’s the one screwing with you both. 

SAM: No, trust me, watch this. 

Danny comes back to the table from the bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. 

DANNY: Some guy was styling his hair with the hand dryer. Can you believe that? 

SAM: (ignoring Danny’s interesting story) Daniel, did you know that it gets so hot in the summer because the sun doubles in size between June and September?

DANNY: I guess that kind of makes sense. 

Jake and Josh exchange amused looks. This is gonna be fun. 

JOSH: Well, I read yesterday that pisces can read people’s minds. 

DANNY: Really? That’s kind of spooky. 

JAKE: The pyramids were built from the top down. 

DANNY: I knew it. (beat) You guys are throwing a lot of information at me. It’s kinda making my head spin a bit. Not gonna lie, I’ve been all over the place since I stopped drinking caffeine. Like, I really can’t think straight. 

SAM: (obviously not feeling bad at all) Oh no, that’s horrible! 

Sam, Jake, and Josh share malicious grins. Danny is entirely oblivious. 

SAM: (to the camera) I can tell this fool whatever I want. 

Starcatchers Theme/Opening Titles

[acoustic theme song with a harmonica] 

From the fires we emerged anew, 

Singing, playing rock and roll, 

Reviving a genre just for you. 

Across the globe we traveled far

Recruiting an army of peace, 

Enchanting crowds with our guitar. 

A battle ensued at the Gardens Gate

And we preserved the gift of nature, 

Standing up against a culture of hate.  

We are the Starcatchers, reaching for the sky, 

Discovering words of wisdom to live by. 

We deliver a message from the heavens above:

Live your legend through the intelligence of love. 

[end theme] 

Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny sit in their manager’s office. Danny is balancing a pen on his forehead while Sam times him with a watch that looks like it came from a Happy Meal. Jake and Josh try to focus on their manager, but it’s pretty hard with all the commotion Sam and Danny are making. 

SAM: Twenty seconds away from the world record! 

DANNY: Wooooo! 

MANAGER: (trying to talk over Sam and Danny’s shouts) Today is a big press day. We’ve got a calendar full of interviews for you to get through. I know it’s going to be exhausting work, but we really need to start spreading the word about your upcoming single, ‘Meeting the Master.’ 

JOSH: We’re more than happy to talk with some kind journalists, right guys? 

Danny sneezes and sends the pen flying across the room so it hits their manager square in the face. 

SAM: Shoot! You were two seconds away! 

Danny struggles to find a kleenex to wipe his nose, so he opts for a piece of paper sitting on the manager’s desk instead. 

DANNY: Ugh, this tissue feels awful. 

Danny crumples the snot-covered printer paper and discards it out the window. 

MANAGER: (nodding towards Danny) What’s up with him? He’s usually the sane one. 

JAKE: Caffeine withdrawals. 

MANAGER: Say no more. (shudders) Been there. 

JOSH: So, who do we get to chat with today? Rolling Stone? The New York Times Art and Culture columnist? Kelly Clarkson? 

MANAGER: 98 Rock outside of Clearwater, Florida. 

JAKE: Oh, come on. 

MANAGER: And a few others. Sam and Josh, you’ll pair off and take this schedule. (hands Josh a sheet of paper) Danny, since you just blew your nose on your schedule and chucked it out the window, you and Jake are gonna have to figure things out. I don’t feel like printing another one. 

Manager then slams a gavel down on his desk, making the guys jump. 

MANAGER: Let’s get marketing! 

The manager rushes out of the room, whooping and jumping around like he’s about to take the field for the Super Bowl. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny slowly follow behind him, unenthusiastically. 

SAM: (falling in line with Danny) I need to tell you something. 

DANNY: What’s up? 

SAM: (obviously lying) I put truth serum in your water this morning at breakfast. 

DANNY: Now why’d you do that? 

Sam shrugs. 

SAM: A guy sold it to me on the street. I wanted to see if it was the real deal or not. 

Danny nods like he understands where Sam is coming from. Then he stops. 

DANNY: I think you might have been scammed, Sam. It’s not like I’ve been spilling a bunch of secrets left and right. 

Sam pretends to look disappointed. 

SAM: There’s five bucks I’ll never get back. 

Danny stops in his tracks. Sam stops with him. Danny turns to face Sam and puts his hands on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. 

DANNY: I was the one who spread the rumor in third grade that you wore a wig. 

Sam gapes at Danny. 

SAM: DANIEL! 

Danny looks horrified that he shared this information with Sam. His mouth hangs open in shock and, after taking in Sam’s progressively angrier face, he snaps back to life to do some major damage control. 

DANNY: I don’t know why I said that, I’m so sorry, Sam. I was young then, I thought it was a funny joke, I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand. 

SAM: Kids called me Mr. Clean for years, Daniel. Years. I had to grow my hair long to prove a point, but they just kept telling me that I had a nice weave. 

Danny doesn’t know what to say. In a silent panic, he runs away from Sam. Sam watches him flail down the hallway and then shakes his head. As he does this, Josh retreats back to Sam’s side and places a hand on his shoulder, not noticing Danny running away. 

JOSH: I was instructed to relay the message that we need to be on our best behavior today in front of the press. Management threatened to subtract twenty bucks from our upcoming paycheck every time we make ourselves look bad. 

SAM: (focusing on Josh) How can they fairly keep track of that? It’s an entirely subjective thing. 

JOSH: I don’t think this is something we can negotiate. 

Sam shakes his head with discontent. 

SAM: I can’t help that I enjoy riffing. 

JOSH: I’m right there with you, bro, but it’s a challenge we’re gonna have to overcome. 

Josh guides Sam past Jake, who is waiting outside a door labeled “105.4 KSCR: The Singles” where he and Danny are expected to take their first interview. Jake is pacing back and forth in front of the door, practicing his lines. 

JAKE: Hi, I’m Jake Kiszka from Greta Van Fleet and I’m here to promote our new single, Meeting the Master. No, not quite it. Hey guys! This is Jake from Greta Van Fleet, spreading the word about our new single! Gross. What’s crackalackin my bros? I’m excited about my new single! 

A deep and booming voice reminiscent of Samuel Pack Elliott appears from seemingly nowhere. 

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Become one with the essence of your being.

Jake suddenly stops in his tracks and spins in a tight circle, searching for the source of the mysterious voice. 

JAKE: Huh? Dad? 

MYSTERIOUS OVERHEAD VOICE: Soar above the constraints of possibility. 

JAKE: Is this a prank? Because we already covered that in the pilot episode. 

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Your destiny lies in standing apart from the rest.

Jake’s face scrunches as he finally begins to consider what the voice is telling him. He looks back at the sign on the door. The words “The Singles” especially stand out to him, and he’s staring at the words while whispering “single” under his breath. Danny approaches Jake, looking turned around, and Jake stops whispering to himself, straightening up when he sees his bandmate. 

JAKE: Daniel, I wanna fly solo with the interviews today. Why don’t you go somewhere else? 

DANNY: I mean, I guess I can do that? 

Danny turns back on his heel and wanders away back down the hallway, accidentally bumping into stuff left and right. He finds a door and slips into the room, leaving Jake back on his own. Jake sighs a breath of relief, like he’s off to a fresh start, and lets himself into the KSCR room. 

The perspective of Jake entering the room swaps to a shot of Danny entering into a room of his own, which is entirely dark except for a single light. Danny gazes around and finally spots the interviewer, who is a woman around his age, giving him an eerie smile from the shadows. As he moves closer to her, it becomes clear that she’s using a screenshot of the Pixar lamp on her phone with the brightness turned all the way up as a substitute for an interrogation lamp. 

INTERVIEWER: You’re early. 

DANNY: My bandmate ditched me and told me to take some interviews on my own. I don’t like talking to people I don’t know, especially when there’s a camera around, but I am getting paid for this, so I might as well get it over with. 

INTERVIEWER: Your honesty is refreshing. 

DANNY: I’m so sorry, that was rude to say. I have no filter. 

INTERVIEWER: Like a geriatric patient. Excellent. 

DANNY: What’s with the dark room? I feel like I’m on the set of Hot Ones. 

INTERVIEWER: I like my interview space free of distractions, so I can focus on only you, and you can only focus on me. 

Danny points to the photo of the Pixar lamp that she’s still holding up. 

DANNY: That’s pretty distracting. 

INTERVIEWER: (adamant) The lamp stays. 

DANNY: You’re making my spine tingle. That’s what happens when I’m around people who intimidate me. 

INTERVIEWER: That’s exactly what I was going for. Now, shall we get started? 

DANNY: (still evidently uncomfortable) I feel like I have to. (beat) I really hope I don’t talk about how I stole Dave Grohl’s drum sticks that one time we played at the same festival or how I used them afterwards to build a piece of IKEA furniture because I lost my hammer. 

INTERVIEWER: Hold on, say that again after I start the camera. 

Danny’s face pales with worry. 

The interview room transitions into the room where Josh and Sam are currently on a Zoom call with a couple of cheesy DJs wearing Led Zeppelin band tees. 

DJ 1: So I have written here in front of me that your band name has an interesting story behind it.  

JOSH: Oh yeah, we actually came up with the name as an homage to our 3 main inspirations. 

SAM: Greta Thunberg. 

JOSH: Vanderpump Rules. 

SAM: And Adele! 

Josh flashes Sam a disappointed look. 

DJ 2: How fascinating. I could have sworn I read somewhere that the name came from a town elder in your hometown of Frankenmuth. 

SAM: If you knew that, then why did you ask the question? 

Josh’s phone pings, he looks down at it, and immediately frowns. 

JOSH: (to Sam) That’s a $20 deduction for both of us. 

SAM, DANNY: Darn it! 

Back in the darkened room with the interviewer, Danny is heard yelling the same thing as Sam, holding his head in his hands. The interviewer is flipping through her notes. 

INTERVIEWER: So, in the past five minutes, you’ve shared your social security number, list of allergies, all of your phobias, your home address, how you’re oddly attracted to the pink Stitch, that you think you’re better at guitar than Jake, and, just now, your iCloud username and password. Can I include all of that in my article? 

DANNY: (still into his hands) Please don’t. 

INTERVIEWER: My interrogation - uh, I mean - my interviewing skills have really improved since I did my blood oath - I mean - my Masterclass course on journalism. I didn’t even prompt you to tell me any of that stuff. You offered it all on your own.

DANNY: (groaning) That stupid truth serum. I’m gonna kill Sam. 

The interviewer is intrigued by this. She leans closer to Danny. 

INTERVIEWER: Truth serum, huh? I didn’t know that stuff worked. 

DANNY: Well, here’s all the evidence you need. Sam bought it off some guy on the street for, like, five bucks. It seems kinda cheap for something like that, though. I wonder if he had a coupon. 

The interviewer is on her feet now, looking energized. 

INTERVIEWER: Where’s Sam now? This could be my shot to finally get one of those big Hollywood hotshots to fess up to the existence of the Illuminati. It’s my time to expose those lizard people. 

DANNY: I thought the lizard people and Illuminati were two separate groups? 

It’s no matter, because the interviewer is already gone. Danny sighs and starts to play with the microphone that the interviewer left in front of him. Across the hallway Jake is sitting with the KSCR interviewer, a kind woman who looks like she’s got years of experience under her belt. 

KSCR INTERVIEWER: It said on the call sheet that your drummer, Danny, was going to be joining us today. 

JAKE: I’m flying solo today, hun. You see, Greta Van Fleet has been around for quite some time now. We’re veterans in the field, you could say, which means it’s time for us to explore new avenues. One of those avenues, as you can see, is that I get to take some interviews by myself. You know, test the waters a bit to feel what it’s like to be on my own, running the show. 

KSCR INTERVIEWER: Are you implying that you’re going to leave the band? 

JAKE: I’d be lying if I said the idea didn’t pique my interest. I keep seeing signs, like a higher power is pointing me in the right direction. Have you ever felt like you’ve been trapped in a cage your entire life? Don’t answer that; it’s a rhetorical question. What I crave is so much bigger than the confines of this little rock group. I want to move mountains with my song, to travel the world as a nomad, to become my own master. (without missing a beat) Speaking of which, our newest single, ‘Meeting the Master,’ will be available to stream on April 7th. 

KSCR INTERVIEWER: This is frankly shocking to hear from you, Jake. A lot of people would argue that Greta Van Fleet is in their prime now. You’ve found your sound, gained your following, and are dominating the rock world. Why would you want to walk away from that?

JAKE: The loner’s path calls me. 

Jake pulls a steel guitar out of nowhere and starts to play a tune that sounds similar to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly theme. The KSCR interviewer gives Jake a blank stare. That blank stare is shared by Josh and Sam, who are sitting in a room with their manager, who looks like he’s on the brink of exploding. 

MANAGER: You know how much money we’re deducting from your paychecks? 

SAM: I dunno, like 17 bucks? We’ve been on our very best behavior today.  

MANAGER: $10,680! Each! 

Sam and JOSH both wince at his words. 

MANAGER: (continued) You’ve only done three interviews. It’s like you’re trying to make yourselves look bad or something. 

JOSH: It’s just our personalities, I promise. We aren’t being deliberate about this. 

MANAGER: It seemed pretty deliberate when Sam screamed that he was going to strangle the next artist that used a drum machine. 

SAM: That came from the heart. I thought you told us to be authentic and likable. 

MANAGER: What’s likable about that? 

JOSH: Sam’s statement resonated very deeply with me, personally. He has my vote. I mean, he’s the kinda guy I could sit down and drink a beer with. 

Sam and Josh fist bump. Manager stares between the brothers, his eye twitching, obviously contemplating if he should rip out all of his hair in a blind rage and run through a wall. By some miracle, he swallows his strong emotions and the storm in his face disperses. 

MANAGER: GQ’s up next to shoot your 10 Things I Can’t Live Without interview. Please, I beg of you, don’t blow this. 

JOSH: I can’t live without Cheez-Its. 

MANAGER: Perfect, be sure to say that in front of the camera. 

Manager leaves the room and slams the door shut. In a match cut, Danny closes the door behind him as he enters the Buzzfeed media room. 

BUZZFEED INTERVIEWER: Danny! How’s it going?

DANNY: I can’t believe I have to chat with the stinking Millennial Disney Adult Top 10 List Toxic Work Environment Buzzfeed.  

BUZZFEED INTERVIEWER: Thank you? Uh, why don’t you take a seat right there, yeah, cool. 

DANNY: Please, for the love of all things holy, tell me you aren’t gonna make me take one of your pointless quizzes. 

Buzzfeed interviewer gives an apologetic smile as he hands over a Buzzfeed laptop. 

BUZZFEED INTERVIEWER: It’s ten questions, it should go by fast. Just make sure to share commentary and, if you can, include some good sound bytes that we can use for social media. 

DANNY: The only commentary I’ll have is how much your stupid quiz sucks. 

Danny sighs and turns his attention to the laptop to complete the quiz, Which Greta Van Fleet Member Are You? The first question, of course, is the classic: What’s your favorite color? Danny studies the options, shuts the laptop, and gives the interviewer an exhausted look. 

DANNY: I’m Daniel Wagner. I don’t have to take a quiz to tell you that. Plus anyways, there’s no way a set of ten questions could possibly define who I am as a person, and how I distinguish myself from my bandmates. I’m an excruciatingly complex man with a deep history like you’ve never seen before. You’d need 6 seasons and a movie to even nip at the tip of my iceberg, sir. (beat) I think what I’m trying to say is my favorite color is mauve, which wasn’t an option. 

BUZZFEED INTERVIEWER: Now that’s what I call a sound byte! 

A commotion can be heard through the wall. The camera pans over to investigate, and we learn that Jake is in the next room at a table, leaning in close to the camera with a look so intense, it’s a miracle the lens hasn’t combusted. 

JAKE: (on the brink of hysterics) Do you know how many songs I wrote for our last album? Enough to make Sir Paul McCartney poop his pants! And what did my bandmates do? They looked over my songs and were like, “wow, Jake, these are really good, but I don’t see where a song called ‘Walk the Plank Me Hearties’ would fit in our album’s tracklist.” Can you believe that? Turning down a banger like ‘Walk the Plank Me Hearties’? And it had a 38 minute long guitar solo too, perfect for radio. It’s like they’re digging their own grave in real time. What a joke. What an absolute joke. See how hard I’m laughing, guys? See the tears streaming down my face, pals? 

AMELIA DIMOLDENBERG: I just asked if you liked ketchup with your tendies. 

Camera zooms out to show that Jake is on a Chicken Shop Date with Amanda Dimoldenberg. Jake’s face is red from his rant, and he takes a break to shove a chicken tender in his mouth. 

JAKE: (somehow managing to chew really loudly on chicken tenders) Now, if you were in my shoes, you would leave the band, right? 

AMELIA DIMOLDENBERG: Absolutely not. 

JAKE: I don’t think this is going to work out. 

Jake takes three more chicken tenders and crams them all in his mouth before standing from the table and powering towards the door. Before he leaves, he turns back to face Amelia. 

JAKE: This chicken is delicious, by the way. 

AMELIA: Thanks, I didn’t make it. 

Jake leaves the room and hustles down the hallway, past a door where Sam and Josh are sitting with some people from NPR. 

PETER SAGAL: Welcome to Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me! This is Peter Sagal, live here with a couple of members from the rock group, Greta Van Fleet. 

JOSH: Hiya, Peter. 

SAM: What’s hangin’, DJ Swaggin? 

PETER SAGAL: As you may know, this is a show that covers current events. Now, usually when we have guest stars, we take the majority of our time to discuss your career and craft. However, a story recently broke in the news that I would love to discuss with you. 

SAM: By all means. Is this about the soaring gas prices? 

JOSH: War? 

PETER SAGAL: Your brother, Jake. 

SAM: Oh god, what did he do this time? 

PETER SAGAL: Take a listen, guys. 

JOSH: I’ll bet you anything he turned into Oliver Reed and started threatening the people at Apple Music again for putting that U2 album on his phone. 

PETER SAGAL plays an audio clip that Jake recorded recently. 

JAKE: You know what? From here on out, Greta Van Fleet is a trio for all I care. I’m breaking free, baby, just like Troy and Gabriella. I don’t need them, I’m as single as a Pringle. (beat) By the way, our new single, ‘Meeting the Master,’ is available to stream on April 7th. 

Sam and Josh are having trouble hiding their shock. Sam looks to Josh for a cue, trying to figure out how he should react to this news in a way that won’t cost them more money from their paycheck. Josh clears his throat and stands from his seat. 

JOSH: It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, but I need to attend a very important meeting. About, uh, drum machines. 

SAM: (attempting to follow Josh’s lead) Yeah, we like to strangle people who use them. 

Josh and Sam both rush out of the room. Just as quickly as they leave the NPR room, they enter the room where Jake is currently sitting with a reporter from MSNBC, for some reason. 

JAKE: (to the reporter, oblivious to Sam and Josh’s recent entrance) All the greats go solo. Art Garfunkel, Michelle Williams, Liam Payne. 

JOSH: Jake! 

Jake turns around and stands to face his brothers. While he at first looks shocked and afraid to see them, he quickly masks his emotions with a smug smile. 

JAKE: Come to negotiate keeping me in your shackles? 

SAM: Dude, what’s gotten into you? You’re seriously killing the vibe. 

JAKE: I got a whiff of the sweet smell of independence, boys. I’m afraid I’ve gotten hooked. 

JOSH: The only thing I smell in here is your BO. And french fries. Hey wait - did you get Mickey D’s without me? 

JAKE: That’s the perk of going solo. 

Sam looks like he’s starting to consider leaving the band as well. 

JOSH: This is insane, Jake. You can’t leave Greta Van Fleet. 

The mysterious deep voice returns again. It’s apparent that only Jake can hear it. 

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Challenge the non-believers. 

JAKE: I’ll show you insane. God just told me to challenge Josh to a duel. 

SAM: (shock) Oh my god! (confusion)Oh my god? (realization) Oh my god??

JOSH: (cutting Sam off) You’ve got yourself a deal, pal. 

SAM: No! 

JAKE: High noon, bud. 

SAM: It’s 3:07. 

JOSH: It’s high noon somewhere. 

SAM: I don’t think it is? 

JAKE: Parking lot. 

JOSH: Right. 

The twins exit the room in a silent rage, leaving Sam behind with the MSNBC reporter. 

SAM: So, how about that economy, huh? What are stocks and why am I so afraid of them? 

The scene shifts to the parking lot, at not-really high noon. An instrumental version of ‘Fate of the Faithful’ plays in the background. Jake and Josh step into frame. Jake looks like Woody from Toy Story while Josh wears a cowboy suit with inflatable horse legs. Sam stands in the middle, dressed like a NASCAR flagman in a checkered suit, holding the starting flag up. 

SAM: Please don’t make me do this! 

JAKE: Wave the stinkin flag, Samuel! It’s a direct order from God!

JOSH: I bet he’ll smite you if you don’t. All that’ll be left is the memory of how annoying you were. 

Sam squeezes his eyes shut in fear as he holds the flag up, and Jake and Josh curl and unfurl their fists, preparing to grab for their weapons (plastic cups filled with boba). Sam slowly starts to move the flag downwards as the instrumental music crescendos. The camera zooms into Jake and Josh’s eyes to show just how serious they are about this whole boba shootout. Sam lowers the flag in full, his eyes still shut. As the twins stick their straws in their mouths and prepare to fire the boba at one another, Danny suddenly wanders past Sam, blocking Jake and Josh from each other. Danny appears dazed and confused, and gazes around with a sleepy look on his face. 

DANNY: Which interview is this? Why didn’t I get a fun costume? 

JAKE: Oy! Checker boy! Move your curly friend out of the way so I can pelt my brother with these tapioca pearls! 

SAM: (to Danny) Now’s really not a good time to be here, buddy. Why don’t you lay down and drink an ice water? You look awful. 

DANNY: (speaking to no one in particular) I said so many things on our no-no list. But I couldn’t stop myself. The words melted from my mouth like butter fresh out of the microwave. 

Jake and Josh are now standing upright, dumbfounded and trying to decipher what the heck Danny is talking about. 

DANNY: (continued) They know that I used a night light until I was 16. And that Josh has an irrational fear of George Costanza. And that Jake stole one of Chicago Music Exchange’s most expensive guitars back in 2019 and blamed it on Keith Richards. 

JAKE: Bollocks! 

DANNY: And I can’t speak a lick of Spanish. And Sam lied about being vegetarian during the pandemic. 

SAM: Oh no, my brand! 

DANNY: And Josh has a crush on Dev Patel…

JOSH: I’m actually okay with that one. Maybe he’ll hit me up? 

DANNY: (continued) …and a young Rasputin. 

JOSH: How do you know about that!?

JAKE: Okay, change in plans. I don’t need to duel Josh anymore. Let’s circle the traitor! 

JOSH: Yar! 

DANNY: (continuing) That truth serum Sam gave me is seriously strong. Like, it’s kinda freaking me out how powerful the stuff is. I told a poor reporter with Spin that I haven’t had a bowel movement in 4 days and he referred me to a fiber specialist. 

Jake and Josh turn to look at each other. It’s mutually understood that Danny is not the cause of this mess; Sam is. Sam has already caught onto this, as made apparent by the fact that he is already halfway across the parking lot, booking it as fast as he can from harm’s way. 

A steel guitar theme plays in the background as old-timey title cards flash across the screen, reading: Samuel Francis Kiszka was forced to go through robust media training as penance for his tomfoolery and despicable interview responses. Daniel Robert Wagner was given a doppio espresso with 20 shots of espresso and 10 pumps of white mocha to cure his caffeine withdrawals. He was back to normal within seconds. As for the twins, Jacob and Joshua…

Camera shows Jake and Josh. They are sitting across from each other in the room where Josh and Sam did their GQ 10 Things I Can’t Live Without interview. A box of Cheez-Its, toe nail clippers, a trucker cap that reads I’M NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS I’M WORSE, a ping pong paddle, and The Communist Manifesto are sprawled across the table. It can be assumed that all of Sam’s submissions were non-tangible. 

JOSH: I can’t believe Sam has to go through the same media training program that Disney Channel child actors do. 

JAKE: You and I both know it’s what the kid deserves. 

SAM: (voice calling from down the hall) WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T THREATEN PEOPLE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERAS? THAT’S MY BIT! 

Josh looks like he’s mulling over whether he should mention something or not. He starts to play with the toenail clippers, but then stops himself. 

JOSH: You know how you were talking about leaving the band? 

Jake seems uncomfortable that Josh is bringing this up. 

JAKE: Hmm? Oh yeah, that. (beat) Between you and me, I think Sam must have slipped me some “Tendency to Learn Towards Breaking Up” serum earlier today. Man, that stuff got me good. 

Now Jake is the one nervously playing with The Communist Manifesto, trying to read it upside down. 

JOSH: Is any of that serum still in your system? 

Jake mulls Josh’s question over. 

JAKE: I think it must have cleared out. I mean, I haven’t heard from God in a hot minute. 

JOSH: I am curious, what does God sound like? 

JAKE: Like the most darn tootin’ cowboy you’ve ever heard in your life. 

JOSH: Huh. 

JAKE: It is a little strange though, I swear I’ve heard his voice before. Maybe he regularly checks in on me. 

Jake shifts around a bit in his seat. 

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Our duty is to build trucks.  

Jake jumps out of his seat with a shout. 

JOSH: What?! 

JAKE: He just came back to me! He said it’s our duty to build trucks?  

JOSH: Are you sure he didn’t say ‘trust’? 

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: It takes the new 2025 Ram 1500 to move Heaven and Earth. 

JAKE: Huh? 

JOSH: What is it, brother?

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Guts. Glory. Ram. 

JAKE: I think God just recited a Ram Truck commercial to me. 

JOSH: You said he sounds like a cowboy? 

JAKE: Mmm hmm. 

Josh looks at Jake closer. Although his hair is covering his ears, Josh spots something. He reaches forward, brushes Jake’s hair out of the way, grabs something, and holds an AirPod out to Jake to see. 

JOSH: Do you think this was maybe where the “Voice of God” was coming from? 

JAKE: Did you pull that out of my ear? I didn’t realize you knew how to do magic tricks. 

Josh inserts the AirPod into his own ear and takes a pause to listen. 

JOSH: Your “God” is telling me about Dairy Queen’s 2 for $5 deal right now. 

JAKE: Sellout. 

JOSH: You’re playing ads on your phone, dude. 

Jake pulls out his phone and studies it. 

JAKE: So I am. Perhaps I’m not important enough for divine intervention. 

JOSH: (cautiously) You know, sometimes we apply meaning to things based on our subconscious without even realizing it. 

Jake doesn’t seem to be following what Josh is hinting at. With a sigh, Josh continues. 

JOSH: (continued) All of today you believed you were following the word of God. But, in actuality, I think you were doing what you wanted. 

JAKE: I was doing what Ram Trucks wanted. 

JOSH: Jake, I want to know if we’re okay. You know, as a band. 

JAKE: Oh yeah. Saying we’re A-okay isn’t even accurate. We’re more like A+ okay. 

Jake lets out a small cough, rubs his nose on the bottom of his dress shirt, hocks a loogie into Josh’s box of Cheez-Its, and stands. 

JAKE: I’m gonna grab some more chicken tenders from that British lady. Those made my stomach happy. 

Jake leaves the room, whistling the “Cha Cha Slide” to himself. 

JOSH: (to himself) I wish I had some of Sam’s truth serum to crack into that chestnut of a brain. 

The episode ends with a flashing series of national headlines that were produced as a result of the media day, like Greta Van Fleeing: Jake Kiszka on the Move? and 192 Secrets Daniel Wagner Probably Should Have Kept to Himself. The camera shifts to show that the members of Greta Van Fleet are doing more media, chatting with a couple of DJs over a Zoom call.  

DJ 1: You boys really took the world by storm last week with your, let’s call it, buzzworthy press. We’re glad to have you here with us today to shed some light on what happened, and why you’re currently at the top of the news cycle for every major outlet. 

DANNY: A word to the wise, don’t go off the bean. 

DJ 2: Noted. 

SAM: We’re so thrilled to be speaking with you both today. To answer your question, I went into the Disney Channel building and I sat down with the president of Disney Channel, and I said, ‘I wanna make history,’ and that’s what this is. 

DJ 2: Not the answer we were expecting, but very informative, Samuel. 

JOSH: You should congratulate him, he’s been taking his media training very seriously. 

Danny takes a break from chugging his venti coffee to chime in. 

DANNY: We’re a band who obviously doesn’t take ourselves too seriously. What happened last week was unprofessional, I will admit that, but it was a way to capture your attention so we can spread the word far and wide about the first single off our upcoming album, Starcatcher. 

SAM: Create a playlist with ‘Meeting the Master’ on repeat and stream it. Don’t mute it! Play it at a low volume and let it play while you sleep. 

DJ 1: Should we even be anticipating a new album from you guys if Jake’s so dead-set on quitting the band? 

SAM: I am not contractually allowed to speak on that matter. No comment. 

JAKE: That was an accident. False alarm. I was taking advice from Ram Trucks. 

DJ 2: How does that happen? 

JAKE: You forget to watch your back. 

DJ 2: I want to steer the conversation back to Danny about a certain someone that he expressed romantic feelings for last week. 

Everyone stares at Danny with concern. Danny looks mortified. 

DJ 2: Anything to say about Pink Stitch? 

JAKE: Oh, I bet he does. 

JOSH: (to Jake) You know who has something to say about you? 

Josh retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a voice note. 

VOICE OF KEITH RICHARDS: Ello, this is Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. I have a message for a kid named Jake who screwed me over at the Chicago Music Exchange. Now, IF I SEE DAT BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP I’M GONNA BLEEP BLEEP THE GODDAMN BASEBALL BAT BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP ZEBRA CROSSING BLEEP BLEEP ICE CREAM BLEEP BLEEP FRENCH WINDOWS BLEEP - 

JAKE: (trying to call over the continued voice note of Keith Richards cussing him out to no end) MEETING THE MASTER. STREAM IT NOW, STREAM IT FOREVER. 

END OF EPISODE.

[metyouattherighttime]

review for short n sweet (first listen)!!

1- taste

hello im excited for jenna ortega in the mv and the song i couldnt hear cause i was brushing my teeth all i got was youll have to taste me when hes kissing you (will listen again) ok here i am again. 5 feet to be exact!!!! i feel the beginning is similar to fortnight like the slow start to build up is there a formula to album starters or something. or maybe its a formula for normal songwriting idk. but i like it!

2- please x3

absolute bop obvi

3- good graces

i wont give a fuck about you!! the song is a bop but uhm it wont stick in my mind omg this review in its entirety is so bad idk what im listening to the first time round. kinda repetitive ngl

4- sharpest tool

ok this is good. phone face down!! (me always)

5- coincidence

kinda country vibe w the acoustic guitar!!! and the background singers!! (youve lost all common sense, the whispers r everything) the bridge ate

ok wtf an ad 🙄

7- bed chem

ok my claimed track!!! manifest!!!!!! oooohhhh ok yes the weird intonation thing will absolutely stick in my head at some point LOL where art thou?? did she say that. or am i crazy idk anything without lyrics.. is she saying romeo in the background i have no idea. BOP

8- espresso

thats that me espresso ☕️ also track 8 is lowkey surprising cause why is it not like track 3 is jt because its eight letters

9- dumb & poetic

slowish song! i think the slow songs are where her voice rly stands out. wait there was like no beat drop or whatever did i miss it no right what its ok

CAN I JUST SAY WHY R THE SONGS ALL SO SHORT 😭😭😭😭

10- slim pickins

ooo another slowish somg! and guitar picking!! wait maybe a banjo actually. its giving eyes wide open vibes with grown up lyrics yk??? ok maybe ukulele too??? idk but strings are involved

11- juno

MY OTHER CLAIMED!! its so pop omg wait the beat is so fun. ooooo okok YES the ow! is yes!!! wait no i love this song shut up. its so like adorable but also idk because sabrina lyrics but ugh no the beat is cute. it reminds me of a song i heard in the car but idk what it is i think something by coldplay.. and like the fall in love part i feel like could be part of a kpop song?? yk??? i wonder why she chose juno and not hera is juno short?? no shes a god

12- lie to girls

this is a very sabrina style song like do you get me. ok the bridge is def gonna be so fun to sing!! i think im gonna have a hard time memorising the lyrics cause it repeats a lot of the same ohrases tho 😭 i like the outro ok maybe im just a sucker for guitar

13- dont smile

last track!!! ok synth. dr seuss but opposite LOL wait is it dr seuss quote i forgot like dont cry cause its over smile because it happened..??? OK BUT WHY IS THIS TJE LAST TRACK DOES SHE WANT ME TO CRY if u dont wanna cry to my music dont make me hate u prolifically ig

anyways last remarks from me. juno is my fave. espresso and please x3 are still bops and i also like slim pickins but bed chem may be inappropriate to sing in front of my parents i wont lie.. i liked sharpest tool tooand coincidence

ok yk what the ones that didnt hit for me this first listen are good graces, dumb & poetic, and dont smile

thanks bye let me know ur thoughts 😚😚😚💛💛💛💛

i hav to listen again to rly feel it so uhm take this review w a grain of salt because it will not be accurate to how i feel after a few lessons ok!!!!

[skeeverboy]

hi i'm skeeverboy and here's my review of every tfb album (not including singles or eps but maybe i will at some point)

I Hate My Friends (2008)

despite being their first and least finished albums, it is one of my fav albums of all time. it's unique and definitely not for everyone, but the garage/basement sound and unique vocals are so charming. it has this whole immature feeling in both instrumentation and lyrics that i'm just obsessed with. i really like the background vocals and the entire shouty kind of singing this one has.

fav track: push-ups

rating: 9.5/10

My Grandma Vs. Pneumonia (2009)

very similar in sound and vibe to IHMF, with the same acoustic recorded-in-someone's-basement feeling (this is because both albums were in fact recorded in random basements and garages). it feels a little more finished than IHMF, and the songs have a bit of a different vibe that i don't know how to explain. ultimately though i put it in the same category as IHMF and frequently forget which songs are in which albums.

fav track: the bass is too loud

rating: 9/10

The Front Bottoms (2011)

absolutely amazing album. it has all the charm of the first 2, with significantly more development and more of a finished feeling. it starts off with an amazing first track and there's really not a dud on this album at all. both versions of the cover art are beautiful. the lyrics in this album are just like some of my favorite of all time and often times soul crushing. i love it. enough said.

fav track: looking like you just woke up

rating: 10/10

Talon of the Hawk (2013)

another absolute banger. it has a lot of the same vibes as self titled, though it started getting a lot higher energy. while still angsty and gut-punching, it's also a lot easier to jam out to than their self-titled, with more electric guitar featured and absolutely banger choruses. maybe a little bit overrated, but a great album nonetheless.

fav track: santa monica

rating: 9/10

Back On Top (2015)

another one of my favorites. it's nearly completely abandoned the more acoustic feeling, aside from chunks of songs like the beginning of West Virginia. pretty much every song can be either cried to or rocked out to in the car. even though there is one song on this album that i kind of hate (summer shandy) the rest of them more than make up for it. fun electric guitar parts, the epic wind section in 2YL, the hard hitting lyrics in songs like Plastic Flowers, it's all just amazing.

fav track: ginger

rating: 10/10

Going Grey (2017)

everyone hates me for my opinion on this album but ultimately it's just kind of meh for me. it's not bad, but it's my least favorite TFB album. the entire sound of the album isn't my favorite, and at times the vocals feel a little dull, which i mean the vocals are like the number one reason why i love the front bottoms. some of the lyrics leave something to be desired, especially considering past songs.

i don't hate the album though. it's high energy, really transitioned TFB into IS&IF and YAWYHOW smoothly. it has a lot of good songs while remaining pretty true to the core TFB sound.

fav track: trampoline

rating: 7.5/10 (don't crucify me please)

In Sickness & In Flames (2020)

ok on my tier list i admit i ranked this one way too low. it pushed the band into a new direction, with the autotune and the way more developed and finished sounding instrumentals. pretty much every song is high energy and catchy. it strays way more into the pop side of tfb's pop punk/emo sound, which is fine but not exactly my thing. i think they do it in a really graceful way though and most songs on here are bangers

fav track: bus beat

rating: 8/10

You Are Who You Hang Out With (2023)

this one is significant for me because it was their first full-length album they released while i was actively a huge fan. it was exciting and i heard a few of the songs before the album's release live, so i'm definitely biased in this one. the autotune is a little weird, but it works for me. the mix between brian's unique voice and the autotune and just the general sound of it are really good.

i'll admit it did take me a minute for it to grow on me, especially as an early tfb girlie, but grow on me it did. outlook and batman both feel like really nice tie-backs to the older sound, almost sounding like they're from TOTH or back on top?? and the newer, weirder songs (i'm looking at you Paris) work really well with the sound of album and such.

fav track: batman

rating: 9.5/10

[a-trick-or-two-with-lepers]

A Decidedly Unserious Review of Hair 2001 (ft. Drew Sarich)

I’m back for another lunatic review. This time: the 2001 recording of Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical. This is so silly. I literally decided to do this like two hours ago because @peppi-mint wanted to hear my thoughts on it. Well, peppi, prepare to get an earful because I had some THOUGHTS

(I’m so sorry)

Aquarius- um. This is literally so cool. The hip-hop beat sets the tone, which is vastly different from every Hair recording I’ve heard. And then the violins come in and it’s like YOOOOO. And then the broadway singing comes in and it’s like YOOOOOOOOOOO! And then the dissonant harmonies hit and it’s like YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I really like this. Very different and fresh and new and Y2K in the best way. I can’t stress how fucking amazing those harmonies sound.

Donna- Ok, Drew!! Give us that punk-rock energy! The electric guitar sound is really neat, and I kinda dig the reverb as well as the way Sarich sings most of the lines straight intentionally. Whereas the harmonies were highlighted in the last song, they act more as a part of the orchestra in this song, but it still feels full and tasteful. Really enjoying this so far.

Hashish- I’ve literally always skipped “Hashish.” It’s boring to me. I’m a sober loser. But THIS?! What are they doing to my boring hashish!! The instrumentation is so experimental and interesting to listen to. I like that the cast isn’t going over the top with the vocals, too. They’re supposed to be high, so going full belt and vibrato isn’t really the vibe.

Sodomy- I’m literally Debbie Reynolds-ing right now. This guy’s voice has me biting my lip for real. Catch me joining the Holy Orgy ™ any day of the week.

Colored Spade- This production is obviously informed heavily by black music. Which makes this song slightly more comfortable to listen to. I can’t really speak on it though- I’m white. All I can say is: it’s a bop. Also, the second half?? So fucking groovy. Yes I’m using that word unironically. It’s a good word.

Manchester England- Stripped down acoustic guitar… mkay I can get with that. Makes the full orchestration pop out more. Loving these glam rock vocals from Kyrre Kvam.

I’m Black- It was literally 22 seconds long and sounded like a car commercial with that fade in and fade out I’m lmao 😭Where’s my Ain’t Got No?!?!?!?

Dead End- Ok so I rarely hear this one in any recorded productions. I’ve only ever really heard it in college production bootlegs I watch on Youtube. This version has me saying WHY DID THEY REMOVE IT?!? It’s seriously so good. 

Air- The vocal affectation that Jeannie usually has tends to annoy me, which I guess is intentional, but I’m glad it’s more toned down here. The industrial sound of the instruments clashes with the light and breezy vocals in a really fascinating way. It’s like a big burly man wearing a flowery perfume. Thumbs up from me. 

I Got Life- Teehee if you take out your left earbud you get an a capella intro 🤭Anyway, I always love this song. This version is no exception. Treat Williams is still top, tho (Rest in Peace, King). 

Hair- The titular bitchular! (-Athena P on YT). Something about the way the sound is split between each ear in the intro (vocals in one ear, guitar in the other) is ticking me off. That’s just me, though. Overall, this sounds so fucking good and it’s such a vibe. I’m not sure if it’s Kvam or Sarich who hits those high notes but they hit, man.

My Conviction- Hehehehehe this sounds so out of place I love it. (It’s supposed to- just like Herod’s song in JCS)! Also how are these vocals from a man?? They aren’t my favorite but they sound soooo much like a woman that’s crazy. Anyway gender is fake

Easy To Be Hard- Um. Can we say elegant? Can we say… mystical? GORGINA?!? BRO when the,,, fuck what is it, a marimba or some shit comes in with that overarching angelic tone- fuuuuuucccckkkkk. So good. Also the shaker keeping the beat tastes good. I can taste this song. It tastes like a capri-sun on a hot day. I’m in love. Hold up- added verse? Why haven’t I heard this-

Frank Mills- Awwwwww this is cute. I like this woman’s voice. Very smooth and nice to listen to. What I’m noticing so far about this album is that they treat each song like it’s its own person, you know? Like- every tune sounds coherent and like it belongs, but it also sounds like its own thing with its own special instrumentation. It’s just. So neat.

Be In - Hare Krishna- The speaker shifting got me like 🫠so good. It’s like ASMR. Another thing I’m noticing about the ensemble vocals is that they’re so… earnest? They aren’t worn like clothing, they’re like a part of the individual. ... Any arrangement that can make me describe music like this deserves the world.

Where Do I Go- Fuck. I just love arrangements that do something new. This sound is so clean and genuine and beautiful. If I could insert John Savage’s vocals into this it would be perfect (No shade to Kvam- I just love the movie version of this song so much). This is probably my favorite song from the musical (I literally wrote a 30k+ word fanfiction based on its lyrics), and I’m sooooo utterly pleased with this interpretation of it. All I’ll say is that the end could’ve been a bit louder/more intense- it is an Act I closer, after all. More drums, please!

Electric Blues- TELL ME WHOOOOOO DO YOU LOVE MAN! *guitar* Ermmm I love Electric Blues I love it. I wanna inject this song into my bloodstream. This version doesn’t stray too much from the original, and it slaps. Always does. Also I just realized this came out before the Broadway revival. I wonder if the revival folks took a bit of inspo from this version 🤔

Black Boys- ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS (I love the staccato guitar chords, offbeat, percussion, tonal shift during the solo represented by the instrumentation, and just everything else about this).

White Boys- My eyes literally rolled to the back of my skull during that intro. So good!! So tasty! Also these VOCALS! Less energy than the others I’ve heard, but that’s not a criticism. It’s more reminiscent of the original cast recording. Once again, ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS. 🍽️

Walking in Space- dodo do do dodo dooooooo. (guitar). Again, the vocalists aren’t overdoing it, which is working. I’ll probably smoke marijuana to this song at some point. Looking forward to it. Also when she sang “ 🎶floooooooaaating, flipping, flyyyyyying, tripping 🎶” I was like 😶‍🌫️(that’s me floating flipping flying tripping). . I want to consume these vocals

The War- Don’t think I’ve heard this one in any other production? It definitely fits the vibe they’re going for. I’d love to know the context for it. Eh, actually, I think I can guess...

Three-Five-Zero-Zero- Listening to this is making me realize how important the bass guitar is as an instrument. Songs would sound so much less full without its constant, droning presence. Also, I would’ve loved to see them lean even further into the experimental vibe for this one so that the tonal shift would sound more stark. Regardless, it all sounds really good. Love the harmonies, especially at the end.

Good Morning Starshine- I have a poster of these three words in my room. Also, I like this version of the song. Very 2001. Kinda reminds me of that song “Walking on Sunshine,” similar vibes. Not my favorite version, but still a bop and very fun. 

The Flesh Failures/Eyes Look Your Last- Guitar is so yummy. I don’t like the chorus singing the first part. I’m just too used to it being a soloist or Claude. Also, it feels kinda too fast? Sorry, I have ridiculously high standards for this song. I think it’s one of the best songs ever written. Given that fact, it’s hard to fuck it up. So, this sounds really good still, obviously. Just didn’t hit quite as hard for me. I feel like they tried so hard to make every other song sound unique and they dropped the ball a bit here. It sounds like they’re trying to just get it over with… which is very contradictory to the song’s message. Also, why isn’t “Let the Sunshine In” a part of the title? Seems kinda important 😬

Hippie Life- …huh?

Aquarius (Bonustrack) - director’s cut- It’s the remix 😎

Overall, I was really impressed by this album. I’m glad I took a listen. It seems like a very approachable version of the controversial musical. I think it’d be a good album to show friends that aren’t into musicals but should still get to enjoy Hair. Some choices weren’t my style, but I’m genuinely so astounded and excited by others. Act I was better than Act II. Drew Sarich was great, and so was the rest of the cast. Ultimately, a very cool take on one of my favorite musicals of all time. Thanks again to @peppi-mint for recommending this to me- I’m so happy I got to do another silly little stream-of-consciousness musical review!