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redheadjustin · 9 months

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Damian finding a kid and just becomes said kids brother like he will stop patrolling and tuck in the kid and will sometimes read a story or show him a trick. One day he’s just like this kid needs family and just takes him home

Daiman Wyane was not necessarily known for his people skills. Not to say he couldn’t be nice, but this man is the son of Talia Al Guhl and Batman. People skill issues just ran in his blood. Though he tried his best to be kind though he doesn’t want to let people get too close. He didn’t want to corrupt anyone. He knows he is not the best person around. If you wanted that you could look to the other members of the batfamily.

In a lot of ways you were the same as damian. Your dad was one of Two-Face’s top henchmen. While your mom was a stripper at one of the more upscale clubs in Gotham. You didn’t play well with others. Though you do have friends. You were only 7 but you had anger issues and found it hard to trust others. And unfortunately your parents didn’t help any. Your dad enlisted you for many of the lower tasks that were asked of him from Two-Face.

That’s how Robin met you. The 12 year old vigilante did not have much tolerance for criminals of any age. But Batman had seen situations like yours a thousand times over. So while Batman went to handle your father he sent Robin to help you.

The first meeting between you two was tense to say the least. He’d found you carrying an envelope full of protection money that was meant to go to your father. Then to Two-Face. Robin drooped down in front of you which gave you a near heart attack. You’d heard of the bats. Your dad had warned you extensively about what would happen if the bats were ever to capture or get you alone. You were on your own. And no one could help. You felt fear and anxiety fill you. Robin approached you quietly. He knew the reasons why you were doing this. But, just seeing a kid who should be at home watching cartoons or something instead of running around Gotham doing your father’s dirty work.

“I won’t harm you.” Damian’s voice came out softly. He wasn't Batman's partner right now. He was concerned about you. You could only nod. You had no clue why Robin would be kind to you. You didn’t know that he could relate to a parent using their child for their own selfish reasons. “What's in the envelope?” Damian had a pretty good ideal of what was in it. But he wanted to be sure. Depending on the answer his opinion of your dad would go up slightly or ensure a stabbing with his katana. “P-protection M-money” You replied, trying not to stutter. Behind his mask Damian’s eyes softened. He had failed to consider that you might have been told about the bat family as though they were the boogie man. The thought broke Damian's heart.

By the end of the night your dad was taken to Blackgate while Robin helped you home. Your mom wasn’t home yet. Still working at a club. Damian felt a brotherly bond forming. He wondered if this is how Grayson felt when he met Damian. He helped you into your pajamas and read you a story. And over the weeks it became routine. Damian stopped by a little over 2 hours into patrol to make sure you had dinner and your homework done then get you into pajamas and to bed.

This went on for six months until one day Bruce walked into the study that housed the entrance to the batcave and saw Damian sitting in the armchair while you were coloring on the floor. Damian simply looked up from his book. “We’re keeping him.” Bruce sighed, nodded, then called the adoption attorney. And that was that.

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male!reader #x male! reader #headcanons #damian wayne x male!reader #dc x male reader #bat family x male reader #male child reader #x male child reader

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im-outofideas · 8 months

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an old new thing

fandom: good omens

w/c: 1977

summary: word vomit domestic life feat. crowley and aziraphale.

a/n: got dang this is all over the place!!! this is plotless fluff and very much self indulgent. self-soothing after season 2. also i cannot write kiss scenes for my life so it turnt stupid LOL. please do not pay it any attention and enjoy the rest 🫶

----

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Convincing you."

“Well.. I’m not convinced.”

“You will be.”

Crowley stiffened. Over the last six millennia, Aziraphale had used distance as a hand over Crowley. If he'd suggested a scheme slightly too outrageous, or gone out and done it himself before relaying it to Aziraphale, he wouldn't see the angel for a long time. It sure took a lot of patience, being his..frenemy.

To be fair, Aziraphale was much more tolerant of mistakes than the angels he’d been surrounded by for all of eternity. Much more forgiving than the demons Crowley reported to. It only took hunting the angel down (not a particularly difficult task; he was conveniently predictable) and a little dance before they were back on their Arrangement and regularly scheduled meetings. Still, the weeks of silence frustrated Crowley beyond anything. He's glad Aziraphale decided to do away with the silent treatment since the notpocalypse.

He's taken up a new way to get Crowley to admit when he's wrong. Or to get him to admit Aziraphale is right. Rather than disappear, Aziraphale will cling. He’ll bother and bother and bother. He’ll talk and pout and follow Crowley endlessly until he’s had enough. Crowley definitely prefers this to the former method. He’d rather be annoyed endlessly than ignored for a little while.

Perhaps it's even why it takes so much longer for him to fold.

With that said, it's just so new. After 6,000 years of the same old routine, the affectionate turn in their relationship is taking some getting used to. It’s a bit much to handle in Crowley’s opinion. It's probably why Aziraphale does it so often, the bastard. He knows it's effective.

---

Two nights ago, Aziraphale had been reading on the armchair when the lights inexplicably went out. He picked up the lit patchouli candle next to him when a sound came from the darkness.

Aziraphale has cleverly stayed away from horror content most of his existence. Unfortunately, this made him very unaware of most cliches used in films. He was an excellent target.

“Crowley?” He tucked the book underneath his arm, using both hands to grip the candle closer to him. Another noise came from the left.

Aziraphale went to investigate. Crowley was meant to be in Glasgow for a boogie-concert. Both decided it would be better if he had gone unaccompanied. The last time Aziraphale attended a concert with the demon, a spill to his tartan coat had him miracle every narcotic on site into the chalky substance they put in candied hearts. There was a lot of confusion among the mosh pit, mainly about the lack of confusion everyone felt.

“Is that you, mister Mouse? I've told you, it's not safe for you here. There are snakes in this household.” Aziraphale called out, but there was no response. All noises stopped.

He went to the front door, intending to check the electrical box outside. He swung the door open. Aziraphale felt a presence somewhere out in the night. Dread filled his guts.

He chuckled to himself for being silly. The list of things which could harm an angel were short. Other angels took up a majority of it. Fear was one of the hundreds of human attributes he's indulged in during his time on earth.

He took a breath of courage, but choked on it when a two-headed, red goblin roared out from the side of the doorframe. Aziraphale screamed, dropping the candle and the book. The goblin quickly saved the book from hitting the floor, but the candle shattered. The ancient and quite ridiculously flammable carpet lit up instantly.

Aziraphale clutched his chest and shouted several incohesive ‘oh dear goodnesses’ while Crowley blew the fire out in a long, icy breath.

“Hm, well. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Aziraphale pushed past him. “Oh no, oh no..” he softly repeated until he was too far away to hear. The lights inside the bookshop flickered on. Crowley could now see the charred stain over the antique rug. He hissed.

The “oh no’s” were returning, growing steadily in volume, until it was shouted right near Crowley’s ear. Aziraphale appeared in the doorway.

“Look what you've done!” He whined.

Crowley stared at the spot in disbelief. “How did it go up so fast?”

“You startled me!” He continued indignantly.

“It's October, angel. Really, what do you use to top off these carpets? Petrol?”

“You burnt my rug!”

“...would explain the Bentley's recent behavior.* Actually, you dropped the candle. Seems terribly irresponsible to keep candles in an old bookshop.”

“You turned out the lights. I needed to see!”

“Right, well. Not a big deal.” Crowley pushed the armchair directly over the stain. “Good as new.”

“Not good as new, it’s still all ruined.” Aziraphale enunciated dramatically. “I expect you to fix it.”

“You're being ridiculous. You can't expect me to miracle it out tonight. The two heads thing took a lot out of me. You can’t even see it!” Crowley sat on the armchair, covering the gap - in which the stain was still very much visible - with his legs.

“I don’t expect you to miracle it out,” Aziraphale said. “I want it restored. Naturally.”

Crowley groaned. “Alright, sure. Fine."

“And a new candle.”

“Whatever you want.” he said spitefully.

“And company to Derren Brown’s Illusionist performance.”

“Never!”

---

Aziraphale is currently hugging Crowley from behind him, entrapping his arms in a one-sided embrace.

“No, I will not. Get off!” Crowley growled, pulling out his arms. Aziraphale remained hugging around his waist. Crowley huffed. “If a person makes a mistake, and then fixes said mistake, the mistake no longer exists and nobody owes anyone anything. I agreed to fix the rug. I’m not going to a silly magic show.”

“I’d hardly call it a mistake. The scare was certainly deliberate.” Aziraphale grumbled. “He who has done wrong unto another must make it up to thee who he wronged.” He made up.

“What, like… building interest? That's not how it works. Do all angels forgive like a bank?”

“Afraid so.” He hugged a little tighter. “Even though I've returned, I still haven't made up for… leaving.” The example seemed to spill out before he could ponder its appropriateness. “Didn’t do much good in the end, did it? So much was damaged. World nearly ended again. No, haven't even begun to make up for it.”

It's a tricky thing. Part of the healing process for Aziraphale had been to bring it up every so often, as casually as possible. Even during moments of domesticity. Perhaps one day they'd grow immune to the pain if exposed to it enough times. That was Aziraphale's logic, though sometimes he regretted ruining a nice moment with a sour memory. Crowley saw it more like a confession. A way for Aziraphale to relieve the guilt he felt. Guilt which hit him harder anytime he realized he was starting to feel happy rather than guilty. What a bitch, that guilt.

Angel’s felt nothing but guilt for over 6 millennia. Only for ever doing what he thought was right.

Personally, Crowley wished to never speak of it again. He didn't find it healing to reopen wounds. But he was working on his tendency to run from his fears, so he tolerated it.

“Course you have. I’ve forgiven you for that.” He softened.

“Yes, well..” I haven’t, he didn’t say.

Crowley squeezed the arm around his middle and took in a breath. “You can hold me however long you want, I’m still not going to the show with you.” He reminded Aziraphale despite not wanting to go. Perhaps he was running a bit. The subject is still awfully uncomfortable.

“It won’t kill you, my dear. It’ll only last six hours.”

“Six hours?? I’ll go mad. Add onto the week of you attempting all the tricks you've seen him do. Forcing me to watch. Forcing me to participate. No. You cannot make me- haha! You can’t make me go!” Aziraphale began to tickle around his grip.

Crowley tried to walk away, but Aziraphale followed surprisingly lightly on his back. Like a pair of wings. It would’ve been less frustrating if he had held Crowley solid.

“Let go!” He laughed.

“Oh, please come with me darling. We’ll have an incredible time. He won’t be performing here again for another year!” Aziraphale persuaded, pretending it was still his words doing all the bargaining.

“I- ehehe, piss off!!” Crowley stumbled over to the couch, legs beginning to give out under him. With a war cry, he suplexed himself Aziraphale-first onto the couch. His attempt to dislodge the angel failed. Infact, it only invigorated him. The hold around him tightened and the once gentle tickling turned deadly. Like a snake. Ironic.

There was an initial few seconds of kicking and cackling, before the laughter became true and bright. Still every bit as loud, but margins sweeter.

“GET OFF!” He shrieked.

“I think you’ll find you're the one on top of me. I’m quite frightfully stuck. I can’t seem to get out.” Aziraphale replied calmly. “Do you mind letting me up?”

Crowley struggled to sit up or wiggle off with Aziraphale still holding onto him. He dropped his head back and laughed in frustration. “Please!”

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale chuckled. He stopped and let go. Crowley immediately rolled off the couch.

They both lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. Crowley turned his head to look under the armchair, directly at the charred stain. The cleaners wouldn't arrive for another day.

"Never do that again. Ever."

"I'll do it again the second your back is turned."

The threat made Crowley blush. There was another silence.

“Why do you want me to go with you anyway? I'll only spoil it with my complaining.”

“Nonsense. I enjoy most things more with your company. You could never spoil it.” Aziraphale stood up to straighten himself out. He stepped over Crowley, who frowned. Bastard didn’t even lend a hand. “But I suppose you’re right. I wouldn't want you to have a bad evening on my behalf.”

Aziraphale left the room without Crowley for the first time in two days.

“Hang on!” Crowley called from the floor. “What, that’s it? All that.. blasted effort into persuading me and you’re just letting it go?”

“Well, I tried everything I could think of. I figure you must dread to go if you're willing to endure all that tickling.” Crowley could hear him fiddling with cups. “I’ve stooped to torture. How you've corrupted me.” Aziraphale said low and fond.

“You only did it for a moment.” Crowley said as Aziraphale returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He furrowed an eyebrow.

“What’s this? You'll miss the performance if we start drinking now.”

“Oh yes, well… what's a year to beings like us anyway?” Aziraphale said gently. “Are you saying I could have convinced you if I kept going?”

“What? Ngk-no, no. I mean, maybe. F'ya did it long enough. This.. bloody corporeal thing. Right ticklish. But don't you dare!” he pointed at Aziraphale. He dropped his hand to his chest. “But the pestering. The hugging, I mean. I almost conceded there. Didn't, though. But that's only ‘cause I didn’t want it to stop so soon. Shut up!” he exclaimed upon seeing Aziraphale smile widely.

"Ugh." By that explanation, the same logic would have applied to the tickling.

“You could have just said.” Aziraphale smiled, bending slightly over Crowley’s head. He appeared upside down. Crowley looked away too late - a little smile was tugging the corner of his own mouth. “So, then, tell me. How can I convince you to join me?”

“Get me off this damn floor, for one.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley up as though he were a feather, holding his hands. He scooted closer, straightening out the fabric over his chest. “And then?”

“Hm," he looked off. "I suppose you could give me a kiss. Might do the trick.” He said with a smirk and an old confidence in his words. He was grateful how well this communication thing was finally working out.

Both were flush when they parted. To Crowley’s dismay, a bit of steam trickled out of his ears quite cartoonishly.

“Look at the time!” he said, flustered again. “Ahm, better get a move on if we want good seats. Might as well be comfortable if we’re going to be there for six hours.” He hurried out the room to the front door. Aziraphale smiled and straightened with giddiness. How good the demon was to him.

“Bring the wine!” the demon shouted.

*referencing the headcanon that the Bentley and bookshop are in love with each other. 😼

#good omens #fluff #crowley is ticklish #he is at heart just a little bit of a good person #aziraphale is just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing

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greensparty · 1 month

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Remembering Duane Eddy and Richard Tandy

Earlier today I wrote about the passing of Paul Auster, not two other entertainers have left the building :(

Remembering Duane Eddy 1938-2024

Legendary rock guitarist Duane Eddy has died at 86. He was an early rock guitar virtuoso. His song "Rebel Rouser" was featured in Forest Gump, but his real mark on music history was "Peter Gunn". The song has been in countless movie soundtracks and covered numerous times, my favorite version was the mashup of Henry Mancini's version with The Police's "Every Breath You Take" in a 2001 episode of The Sopranos.

Eddy and George Harrison

George Harrison was among the many who counted him as an influence. He appeared on Eddy's 1987 album Duane Eddy, which also featured Paul McCartney, who co-produced some tracks. Eddy covered McCartney's "Rockestra Orchestral".

The link above is the obit from Hollywood Reporter.

Remembering Richard Tandy 1948-2024

Musician Richard Tandy has died at 76. He was the keyboardist for Electric Light Orchestra (better known as ELO) from 1971-1986, 2000-2001, and 2014-2017. Jeff Lynne was the mastermind of ELO and got a lot of the credit but Tandy contributed to all but two ELO albums.

ELO's hits like "Livin' Thing" (featured in Boogie Nights), "Mr. Blue Sky" (featured in countless soundtracks including Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), and "Don't Bring Me Down" are staples of classic rock radio! ELO's 2001 album Zoom featured George Harrison and Ringo Starr. Tandy also played on Lynne's solo album Armchair Theatre.

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction still of Tandy

The link above is the obit from Rolling Stone.

#duane eddy #richard tandy #rip #henry mancini #the police #the sopranos #elo #electric light orchestra #jeff lynne #boogie nights #eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #george harrison #ringo starr #paul mccartney #music nerd

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snake-eyes-11 · 2 years

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With his pen tapping against the paper on his desk, it slowly dawned on Oogie that he had been staring at the doorway to his office for the past ten minutes. He’d been contemplating very little, yet his mind had been completely occupied. Most Humans may have recognised the feeling as exhaustion, but the Boogieman jumped to an altogether different conclusion.

When had he last spent time with his family?

They occasionally went on the odd day trip when Oogie could tear himself away from the bustling chaos of the Town Hall planning committee, the endless Town Meetings and the myriad of other issues that he found himself dealing with throughout the land of Halloween; but he couldn’t recall a time in recent memory when they had all stepped away from their drab world for a little while.

“You’re scheming,” Violet’s voice prompted him to look up from the patch of carpet he’d been studying when he returned home that evening. She was sitting in her armchair, busily pressing a needle into her passive aggressive cross-stitch pattern. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“You ain’t lookin’ at my eyes,” noted Oogie. “I have eyes in the back of my head.” “Don’t tell the townsfolk that, they’ll go lookin’ for ‘em.”

She chuckled lightly, placing her embroidery hoop on the arm of her chair to give him her full attention. “What’re you thinking about, my love?” Oogie ran his index finger over his lips and leaned forward. “How’d you feel ‘bout gettin’ away from here for a while?” he asked her. “Just a couple weeks. Us an’ the kids. We can go wherever we wanna go.” A bright smile spread across Violet’s lips. “I feel that’s the best idea you’ve had in a long time, Boogie. So long as they won’t miss you here too much.”

Oogie puffed through his cheeks. “They got Jack to look after ‘em,” he confessed. “An’ he’s been runnin’ the show for years without any trouble. Besides, my part of the plans are well under way.” Violet looked astonished. “You haven’t procrastinated at all?”

Oogie rolled his eyes. “I don’t procrastinate that much, Vi.” “And you’re sure you won’t mind Jack taking care of things while we’re away? I know how you hate to miss out.” “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Violet lingered in his gaze for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if she expected him to crack under the pressure, but Oogie held his ground. After a moment, her expression lightened, and she rushed across to where he was sitting in his armchair. She sat on his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Then, I say that you deserve a break after all that hard work,” she said softly. Oogie grinned up at her. “You name the place,” he purred. “Anywhere in the world.”

“Anywhere in the world…” she repeated in a whisper. “How about that lake cabin we visited for our honeymoon? The kids can have campfires, swim in the lake, go on trails through the forest…” “Sounds like the settin’ for a slasher film,” he murmured, receiving a hum of acknowledgement from her. “Love it.” She laughed under her breath, then locked eyes with him and mouthed a silent: ‘Thank You’. “You’re welcome, my darlin’,” he breathed. “So, I’ll tell the folks down at Town Hall an’ then we can tell the kids?” “Sounds like a plan, Mr Boogie.” She agreed, moving from his lap with a small wriggle of glee.

Oogie beamed as he watched his wife busy herself with ideas of various activities they could do together over their two week holiday. Although he found himself to be quite hardworking these days, he was beginning to realise how much they all deserved a break.

#🎲 feeling antsy (muse update)#[Listen...if I'm going away for two weeks at the beginning of August; my muses can have a holiday <3]

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cvcteeshirt · 13 days

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Armchair Boogie Summer Tour 2024 Poster Shirt. Carding: A fiber cleaning method Armchair Boogie Summer Tour 2024 Poster Shirt that eliminates

#shopping shoppingonline tshirtshop tshirtdesign cvctees TrendingNow Trendingtoday TrendingNews

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americanahighways · 3 months

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REVIEW: Armchair Boogie “Hard Times & Deadlines”

REVIEW: Armchair Boogie “Hard Times & Deadlines” @armchairboogieboys #johnapice @americanahighways #americanamusic #newmusic2024 #hardtimesanddeadlines

Armchair Boogie – Hard Times & Deadlines This interesting upbeat conglomeration of rollicking banjo work comes consistently with a whip snap recorded in Wisconsin. Not exactly a place where funk & bluegrass originated but it’s there. The playing by the Armchair Boogie is exceptional, but the vocals can be quirky. Sounds like somebody’s Uncle who works down by the service station. But I guess…

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pertnear · 3 months

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Looking forward to hitting the road with Armchair Boogie this spring! More info + tickets --> https://pertnearsandstone.com/tour/

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adventuresofwolfieandham · 6 months

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Adventures of Wolfie & Ham:

Chapter 2 - Remember

"Did someone order coffee?" an elegant woman with chainmail armor held together by brown leather straps with shiny silver buckles under a matching lab coat to Astar's, black fringe bangs a touch above the brows and a faded scar slashed across the right side of her face from the nose to under the eye, strolls in through the same door Astar just stormed out of.

"I'm Dr. Ion's partner, Dr. Heart. Our assistant had to leave for a family emergency. I presume you've made acquaintance?" Dr. Heart put on their best smile knowing what was to come for the lovebirds.

"Dr. Io-Oh! You mean Astar?" Wolfie responded, still shaken from the days events.

"Ah, yes so you have met! They need me back in the lab, but I was told to bring these out for you. I'm sure you have plenty of questions, of which you will get many answers, but I'm afraid those answers will only beckon more questions. That's neither here nor there. Enjoy your beverages and Dr. Ion will return momentarily." Dr. Heart repeated, having already memorized the conversation.

"Please, take a look at the rings and see if they jog your memory. You may not remember now, but there is much to be revealed. I'll leave you two to your own. Perhaps we will meet again in the future." Dr. Heart set the coffee and water down, then made her exit back through the only doors in the room.

Ham, now fully conscious, was gagging in the corner behind the arm chair.

"Ham! No!" Wolfie motioned as Ham scurried away from the knocked over trash can. It's clear he had been eating something. Ham has a habit of knocking over trash cans and eating whatever treats he can find.

"Are you eating shit from the trash again?! You know you're not supposed to do that. Omg don't look at me like that." Wolfie, now facing Ryan, "He always eats my boogie tissues out of the trash can back home. Let me see what he found this time." Wolfie, still sore from the body slam from earlier, stood up and stepped over behind the armchair.

[Don't listen to him. He's not who you think he is.]

"What did you find?" Ryan asked, squinting their eyes, still seated in the chair.

"It's some kind of... note? I think. It says, "Don't listen to him. He's not who you think he is." I found a chocolate wrapper to some candy I've never heard of with symbols I can't read, which has clear bite marks in it," Wolfie shoots a glance over at Ham who's pouting off in the corner next to the still unconscious creature.

"Does it say anything else?" Ryan asked, holding back a chuckle as Wolfie and Ham were having a stare off. It didn't take much; Ryan felt their heart drop into their stomach as Wolfie and Ham had their moment. It was the cutest thing they had ever seen, but there was something so familiar about this moment. Not just this moment, but Wolfie and Ham. It's like they knew them from somewhere. Like a distant memory from another time. Another place.

"No, just that. What's weird is the paper is crumpled and... wait," Wolfie, peaking into the trash can as they fixed it upright, "There's more? There's a bunch of crumpled papers in here." Wolfie grabbed a few and smoothed them out. "Every single one has the same message. Same writing. No discernable differences from any of them."

"That's weird... does the message mean anything to you? I have no idea what it-"

[BANG]

An ear piercing, metallic banging noise came from the roof. Startled, Wolfie, Ham and Ryan got quiet. They could hear someone, or something dragging along the roof like it was walking in the snow with a limp. Neither of them had any idea where they were, let alone what the outside of the building looked like.

"What the fuck was that? Did you hear that?" Wolfie whispered in a panic. Ryan didn't say a word, glancing at Wolfie with pursed lips and wide eyes, lightly shaking their head sideways. Ham, stood at the ready to defend, hunched in the corner shaking slightly as the dragging grew closer to the group until it was right above them. Suddenly, it stopped. A few seconds passed. There was a light metallic jiggle as whatever was outside fiddled with something on the roof. Everyone grew silent and still. So quiet, you could hear the steam rising from the freshly brewed coffee sitting on the table.

The clicking stopped. Now it was anyone's guess. They looked at each other with a sense of rising panic as a square patch of flush ceiling panel about 15 feet above them opened on a hinge. Frigid air poured into the chamber as the hatch slowly crept open, revealing a raging blizzard and pitch black darkness. It sat propped for a few seconds before a face peered over. They could barely make anything out other than silhouette of a face in the square opening. After scanning the room, the figure dropped a package through the opening, making everyone jump as it slammed onto the floor in front of them.

[Don't listen to him. He's not who you think he is.]

Fastened with twine, the same note they saw in the trash can lay between the twine and a neatly wrapped box covered in plain brown heavy duty paper. Slamming the hatch shut, the figure disappeared into the blizzard, leaving the group staring down at the box before them. For minutes, no one said a word.

"Should we... open it?" Ryan motioned to the box.

"I mean, I'm not a pussy, but that was definitely not weird. Totally normal thing to happen, but after everything we just went through... the notes? I'm thinkin' it might be a good idea to at least take a little peak." Wolfie started down to pick up the box.

"Wait!" Ryan reached over to stop Wolfie. "I know we just met and all, but like, I can't risk letting anything happen to you. You're clearly braver than me, but just... *sigh* ok, listen, I'm just... I mean, I-" Ryan tripped over their words, growing increasingly aware of what they were about to say.

"Just what?" Wolfie glanced over with doting eyes and a slight flush in their complexion from the frigid air and the growing love between them, rustling their nerves and quickening their heartbeat.

"I- uh, just, it's like, you know haha, I just-" Ryan, shifting their weight as their left knee buckled while fidgeting with the moonstone ring on their forefinger.

"... just? what?" Wolfie stared back, nerves rising, tucking their hair behind their ear as they stood up fully.

"I'm in love with you ok!" Ryan blurted out, clearly flustered and exasperated.

"I- I-," Wolfie stared back in shock, not sure what to say.

"It's okay you don't have to say anything I know it's kinda sudden and-"

"I love you too!!" Wolfie blurted.

"You mean you-"

"Yes! I do! Something about you feels so familiar. Like we've met before. can't really explain it either." Wolfie mumbled back as the two stood in shock. "I'm not sure if it's this chamber, the potential brain damage from our run in earlier, or what, but I feel it too. I've felt it the whole time. I just wasn't sure if you felt the same."

"No yeah, I totally get it. I was thinking the same thing. Like we clearly share some sort of special bond, I mean with the whole time stopping thing, the weird lab guys, the rings and all that." Ryan took a deep breath of relief after the tension left their shoulders. It wasn't everyday someone like this came into their life and Ryan was never one to leave things up to fate when the opportunity for risk reared its head.

Ryan stepped closer, grabbing their hands, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stop you and just dump this on you, but the thought of something happening to you just sent alarm bells off in my head when I saw you reach for that box. There's no telling what's in it. And the matching notes? Something isn't right. I just couldn't risk it."

"No, it's okay. I would've done the same for you. That's actually why I reached for it first. I know it might seem crazy to anyone other than us, but all of these experiences we've shared are just... I don't know. Special? How can we feel such a close bond in such a short time?" Wolfie stepped closer to close the gap between them, moving the box to the side.

Reaching out their left hand, Ryan stared deeply into Wolfie's eyes as they gently stroked their cheek. "I don't know, but what I do know is I've been searching for this feeling my entire life." Finally getting a moment to themselves after all the commotion, the two had a chance to feel into what was brewing between them.

They shared a moment of loving silence as Ryan caressed Wolfie's cheek, inching closer to one another until their lips met. Reminiscent of their earlier encounter, the sound of rushing water started to fill the room. Everything around them started vibrating as a low hum penetrated the walls. Reality itself started melting away as the molecules around them undulated to the pulse of the rushing water.

Lasting for both seconds and an eternity, they opened their eyes after their first kiss only to find themselves in a log cabin in the middle of a raging blizzard–fireplace roaring as they stood atop a wool blanket in front of a wooden coffee table, decorated with wooden bowls filled with goldfish, cheerios and sour patch kids. Next to the bowls were wine glasses filled with blue gatorade. They looked around, confused, wondering what had just happened. Memories of the chamber faded. Feelings of arctic chill dissipated in the warmth of the crackling flames and their embrace. Wolfie and Ryan swayed in each other's arms as Chokehold by Sleeptoken played lightly out of the vintage record player sitting off in the corner of the room. Blinding snow slurried past the only panned window in the cabin, coloring the surrounding void as the fire illuminated the reflection of the snow storm raging around them.

Burnt wood with notes of amber and vanilla wafted in the air as they swayed in silence. With nothing but an inkling left of past events, all that existed in that moment was them. It's like they've been here before. So warm. So familiar. A faint scratching noise coming from the slightly ajar door with warm light pouring out from the crack grew frantic. Wolfie picked up their head and shared a worried stare with Ryan as they slowly made their way over to the door, hand in hand, not sure what to expect. It felt like they were in a dream. A memory? Whatever it was, it felt as real as anything else the two had experienced. Louder now, the scratching grew more frequent as they edged closer to the door. Step by step, they held each other close as they neared the opening. Wolfie reached out a steady hand, slowly pushing the door open.

Ham darted out of the opening and curled up on the wool blanket. Sighing in relief, the two made their way over to the fire and cuddled with Ham. Their lovely little family, enjoying the warmth of the fire before them and their passionate love for eachother. As they settled in, Ham shifted to lay on his other side, revealing a piece of twine hanging from his collar with a note on it.

[Don't listen to him. He's not who you think he is. Remember. - W&R]

#merry christmas wolfie ❤🐺💍🐺❤#i know you don't like christmas but maybe together we can make it a special day to celebrate eachother and our love #enjoy the latest chapter :)#i love you my sweet lil angel baby wolf shawty ❤🧎#adventures of wolfie and ham #chapter 2

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jasonaaronpro · 1 year

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Armchair Boogie: Exploring Bluegrass Energy with a Modern Twist

Explore our exclusive interview with Armchair Boogie, the bluegrass fusion band set to rock the stage at the Sustain Art & Music Festival. Learn about their influences, unique sound, and passion for sustainability in the arts.

Meet Armchair Boogie, the exciting bluegrass fusion band set to perform at the upcoming Sustain Art & Music Festival. Discover their unique sound, musical influences, and commitment to sustainability in the arts. Get a taste of their high-energy live show and find out what to expect from their performance at the festival.

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#Armchair Boogie #band interview #bluegrass fusion #bluegrass music #bluegrass revival #contemporary bluegrass #eclectic music #energetic sound #live performance #modern bluegrass #musical influences #Sustain Art & Music Festival #sustainable arts #Youtube

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pgoeltz · 6 months

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Thursday Vibes

https://h2oradio-2.mixlr.com/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Strings and Sol from Puerto Morelos, Mexico

2:30 pm ET

Schedule: https://stringsandsol.com/schedule/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

A Hanukkah Tour from Millennium Stage, Washington, DC - 6:00 pm ET

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzLaYOstT8g

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Peppino D'Agostino from Caffe Lena, Saratoga Springs, NY at 7:00 pm ET

https://caffelena.tv/programs/live-peppino-dagostino

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

The Allman Betts Family Revival - Devon Allman, Duane Betts, The Allman Betts Band, Tal Wilkenfeld, Larry McCray, Luther Dickinson,

Cody Dickinson, Alex Orbison, Jimmy Hall, Jackie Greene, Ally Venable, and Anders Osborne - Macon City Auditorium, Macon, GA - 7:30 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

LaMP - Russ Lawton, Scott Metzger, and Ray Paczkowski - with Jack Stepanian from Jefferson Theater, Charlottesville, VA at 7:30 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Donna the Buffalo - Jimmy's Jazz Club, Portsmouth, NH - 7:30 pm ET ($)

https://veeps.com/.../9b2693c1-ec2e-4275-b826-a49ae283c6c9

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Jazz Is Dead - Alphonso Johnson, Steve Kimock, Pete Lavezzoli, and Bobby Lee Rodgers - Old National Centre, Indianapolis, IN

8:00 pm ET

https://www.facebook.com/events/288686663829692/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Kitchen Dwellers w/Armchair Boogie - Grand Rapids, MI at 8:00 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Doom Flamingo from Ardmore Music Hall in Ardmore, PA at 8:00 pm ET

https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of.../35212-WEBCAST.html

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

NY Afro Beat Scene Jam Session w/ARMO - The Bitter End - 8:00 pm ET

https://volume.com/t/s0guQt/ (FREE)

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Walt & Tina Wilkins Christmas Show from Houston, TX 7:00 pm CT/8:00 pm ET

https://www.mcgonigels.com/.../walt-tina-wilkins-early-show/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Gerald Watkins Jr Trio - A Charlie Brown Christmas at 7:30 & 9:30 pm CT

Check: https://www.facebook.com/SnugHarborJazzBistro

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Dinosaur Jr. - Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY at 9:00 pm ET

https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of.../35255-WEBCAST.html

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Hot Tuna Electric - The Paramount Theatre, Denver, CO - 8:00 pm MT/10:00 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

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skywasyellowsunwasblue · 6 months

Text

Thursday Vibes

https://h2oradio-2.mixlr.com/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Strings and Sol from Puerto Morelos, Mexico

2:30 pm ET

Schedule: https://stringsandsol.com/schedule/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

A Hanukkah Tour from Millennium Stage, Washington, DC - 6:00 pm ET

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzLaYOstT8g

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Peppino D'Agostino from Caffe Lena, Saratoga Springs, NY at 7:00 pm ET

https://caffelena.tv/programs/live-peppino-dagostino

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

The Allman Betts Family Revival - Devon Allman, Duane Betts, The Allman Betts Band, Tal Wilkenfeld, Larry McCray, Luther Dickinson,

Cody Dickinson, Alex Orbison, Jimmy Hall, Jackie Greene, Ally Venable, and Anders Osborne - Macon City Auditorium, Macon, GA - 7:30 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

LaMP - Russ Lawton, Scott Metzger, and Ray Paczkowski - with Jack Stepanian from Jefferson Theater, Charlottesville, VA at 7:30 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Donna the Buffalo - Jimmy's Jazz Club, Portsmouth, NH - 7:30 pm ET ($)

https://veeps.com/.../9b2693c1-ec2e-4275-b826-a49ae283c6c9

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Jazz Is Dead - Alphonso Johnson, Steve Kimock, Pete Lavezzoli, and Bobby Lee Rodgers - Old National Centre, Indianapolis, IN

8:00 pm ET

https://www.facebook.com/events/288686663829692/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Kitchen Dwellers w/Armchair Boogie - Grand Rapids, MI at 8:00 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Doom Flamingo from Ardmore Music Hall in Ardmore, PA at 8:00 pm ET

https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of.../35212-WEBCAST.html

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

NY Afro Beat Scene Jam Session w/ARMO - The Bitter End - 8:00 pm ET

https://volume.com/t/s0guQt/ (FREE)

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Walt & Tina Wilkins Christmas Show from Houston, TX 7:00 pm CT/8:00 pm ET

https://www.mcgonigels.com/.../walt-tina-wilkins-early-show/

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Gerald Watkins Jr Trio - A Charlie Brown Christmas at 7:30 & 9:30 pm CT

Check: https://www.facebook.com/SnugHarborJazzBistro

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Dinosaur Jr. - Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY at 9:00 pm ET

https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of.../35255-WEBCAST.html

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Hot Tuna Electric - The Paramount Theatre, Denver, CO - 8:00 pm MT/10:00 pm ET

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

0 notes

storiesbyash · 1 year

Text

Under a Glitter Moon

Empty venues are a peculiar thing, you know. The applause and adulation echo in a melancholy after all the cheering crowds have gone. But, like a child told it's bedtime, these large entertainment venues can’t seem to stay quiet. They’ve got their own nocturnal life, their own encores that they can't help but perform.

Let me take you to an enormous stadium in South Korea, recently graced by a hot-shot K-pop band. Their energy could make even the most stoic guards and dozing ticket-takers shake a leg. But now, the show's over. Confetti, once airborne, now lays scattered on the floor like a technicolor snowfall. Abandoned plastic cups, once brimming with overpriced soda, lay crunched and forgotten.

But back to the stadium. This large, hulking arena now sat empty, the stage dark and devoid of its glowing idols. The faint scent of popcorn, cheap beer, and sugar-sweet soda still hung in the air. It was a sight that could make even the most hardened cleanup crew sigh in despair.

Sung-min had the unenviable task of leading the cleanup after every gig. It's fair to say, Sung-min was not the sort of bloke to chase the spotlight. He was a thin man, with a bit of a stoop. His round spectacles, perched on the bridge of his nose, slid down more often than stayed put. His hair did nothing for his rather oval face. His perpetual frown felt comforting. It was like that favorite armchair of yours. Despite losing some padding, it's still the favorite seat.

That night, Sung-min stood at the stadium's entrance. He surveyed the field littered with discarded plastic and strewn confetti. He armed himself with a heavy-duty bin bag and a stick with a nail in the end. He took a deep breath, the smell of stale beer and popcorn filling his nostrils, and sighed. The sigh he let out was familiar, the kind that starts from the sole of worn sneakers and ends at the roots of thinning hair. It was a sigh from a man who's seen it all before.

"Again," he muttered, half to himself, half to the moon that seemed to smirk back at him from above. He started to trudge down the steps, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the task ahead. Yet, as he walked, there was a rhythm to his movements, a sort of resigned dance that spoke of a man accustomed to his fate.

But Sung-min, despite the odds stacked against him, was a bit of a stubborn sort. He was so stubborn that even if he were losing a wrestling match to a feisty dust bunny, he'd keep grappling. He'd continue the struggle until the dust bunny gave up, exhausted by his persistence. He took pride in his work, despite the grumbling and the sighing.

He set about his task. He gathered the leftovers from the departed crowd: neglected cups, popcorn boxes, and other remnants from the successful concert. As he gathered each item, his sighs subsided, replaced by a steely resolve. His frown transformed into a thoughtful look.

As Sung-min began to make inroads into his mountainous task, a peculiar occurrence unfolded. Venues like these tend to get a bit dramatic and introspective once the spotlight dims and the applause quiets down.

The air started to tingle, the kind of tingle you feel before a thunderstorm hits, or when you've accidentally put your tongue on a 9-volt battery. The noise of Sung-min's cleaning efforts seemed to fade, as if someone had turned down the volume knob on the universe.

This wasn't the electrical buzz of a phone notification, or the familiar squeaks of a family of mice in your pantry. No, this was a buzz that oozed from the pores of the stadium, one that had unabashed, unrestrained razzle-dazzle.

This buzz made ordinary extraordinary, made popcorn kernels dance like tumbleweed, and gave discarded soda cups the grace of ballet dancers. It was pure, distilled showbiz, and it was spreading across the empty stadium like a contagion of spectacle.

The empty seats shuddered, then shook, then downright boogied. The large stage, recently vacated by K-pop superstars, began to glow, as if the moon decided to share its celestial spotlight. It was wonderfully, whimsically strange. An uncanny performance of the debris, a veritable encore of litter. Magic flowed from every corner and crevice, turning the ordinary chore of cleaning into a remarkable show of enchantment and joy.

There was a rustle, then a shudder, and then, quite suddenly, the discarded plastic cups began to rise. They shook off the sticky soda residue, popped out their dents, and started to assemble, like tiny drunk robots with a very serious task at hand. A pair of straw wrappers fashioned themselves into a microphone, held up by a cup-hand, while a crisp packet folded itself into a rakish hat. The torn ticket stubs fluttered and stuck together, creating a stage that glowed under the moonlight. They formed into a line, two lines, then a multitude, creating humanoid shapes on the stage.

As Sung-min stood there, bin bag in one hand, stick in the other, he watched the bizarre spectacle unfold. His round glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up. A sound escaped his lips, something between a gasp and a chuckle. He blinked. Once. Twice. His frown, ever-present, relaxed into an expression of bewildered amusement.

He stood amidst the plastic cup figurines, the dancing soda cans, the confetti tornadoes, and joy bloomed within him. It was an unexpected feeling, like finding an extra piece of candy at the bottom of the bag.

"Will you look at that?" he said to himself, a mixture of wonder and disbelief in his words.

Sung-min was no stranger to long nights and weird encounters - he did work in an entertainment venue, after all. But this? This was a whole new level of strange. But it didn't scare him. Instead, it filled him with a sense of...what was it? Awe? Inspiration? Maybe both.

He sat down, right there on the concrete floor, amidst the litter-turned-spectacle, and watched. His usual frown gave way to a soft smile, his eyes wide behind his glasses. The plastic cup figures twirled, the confetti rained down, and for the first time in a long time, Sung-min felt something stirring in his heart. Was it hope? Wonderment? The comfort that even in the mundane, there was room for a touch of magic.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I'll be..." he murmured.

It was all so bizarre and quite the spectacle. If the cleaning crew were present, they might have mistaken it for a mirage induced by their overworked, sleep-deprived minds.

As Sung-min sat there mesmerized, the whimsical figures noticed him too. Their dance slowed, and then halted. For a moment, there was a hush, a peculiar stillness that felt like the calm before the storm. Then, a plastic cup figure, adorned with the most stylish confetti couture, extended a hand towards Sung-min.

He looked at the figure, then at its extended hand, his eyebrows knitting in surprise. "For me?" he asked.

The cup figure nodded, plastic body shimmering in the moonlight. Sung-min hesitated, then decided, what was the harm in a little whimsy? He rose from his spot on the concrete, dusting off his old jeans. With a deep breath, he reached out and took the figure's handle.

The stadium erupted into a crescendo of sound. Every seat seemed to cheer, every piece of discarded debris to applaud. Driven by an unseen force, Sung-min was moving. He swayed, spun, and twirled, following the lead of his plastic partner.

His was awkward at first, a newborn deer taking its first steps. But soon, he got the hang of it. He moved with a rhythm he didn’t know he had as a grin spread across his face. For the first time in his life, Sung-min wasn't just the cleanup crew. He was the star.

He danced and spun, his laughter echoing in the stadium. The other figures joined in, a synchronized dance that radiated pure joy. Sung-min, was at the heart of it all.

Dawn approached, soft sun diffusing across the horizon. Sung-min took a bow, the applause of the plastic crowd ringing in his ears. Exhausted but exhilarated, he took one last look at his new friends, his heart filled with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. With a final wave, he picked up his bin bag and cleaning stick, ready to resume his task.

But as he looked around, he realized that the stadium was cleaner than it had ever been. The plastic cups, popcorn boxes, all of it had vanished, leaving the seats as pristine as they were before the concert. Sung-min blinked, looked at his empty bin bag, then shrugged.

"Thank you," he said to the empty stadium.

Time went by. Concerts came and went. The K-pop stars shone brightly, faded, and were replaced by the next big thing. But Sung-min remained a constant, stooping guardian of the stadium.

Each night, he'd clear the debris, and then dance joyfully until dawn. Each morning, he'd leave the stadium as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Each day, he looked forward to the night, to the magical spectacle that awaited him.

But one evening, as the last of the fans left the stadium, Sung-min found a girl crying on the steps. She was no more than sixteen, clutching a lightstick and a concert poster. Her tears left trails on her face, making the star stickers on her cheeks shimmer.

Sung-min approached her, concern etched on his face. He offered her a tissue, and she took it with a mumbled thank you.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly.

She sniffled, wiping her tears. "I wanted to be a singer," she admitted, her voice a whisper. "But I didn't pass the auditions. They said I wasn't good enough."

Sung-min looked at her, at the crushed dreams and the raw talent in her eyes. He knew that look, the feeling of being unseen, unheard, unappreciated.

Without a word, he held out his hand, a silent invitation. The girl looked at him, puzzled, but then something in his gaze reassured her. She took his hand, and he led her into the stadium.

The moon was high in the sky, bathing the seats in its silvery glow. The air hummed, and the spectacle began. The girl gasped as plastic cup figures twirled and confetti rained down.

With a gentle push, Sung-min urged her to step onto the stage. She hesitated, then walked forward with wide eyes. She looked back at him, unsure, but Sung-min just nodded, a gentle smile on his face.

As she stood there, the stadium came alive, each seat cheering her on. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes. Then, she sang.

Her voice was raw and powerful. It echoed across the stadium, each note resonating with the longing in her heart. The cup figures danced, their movements syncing with her melody. As she sang, her tears dried, replaced by a shine in her eyes that outshone any spotlight.

Sung-min watched from the sidelines, his heart swelling with pride. He realized then, his role in this nocturnal spectacle was more than just a cleaner or a dancer. He was a guardian, a guide, a beacon for those unseen, unheard, unappreciated. He was there to remind them, and himself, that even in the heart of despair, you can find magic.

The girl finished her song, the last note hanging in the air. The stadium was silent for a moment, then erupted into applause. The girl, bathed in the adulation of the stadium, her face glowing with newfound hope.

Sung-min stepped back, his job done. As he picked up his bin bag and cleaning stick, he looked back at the stage and smiled.

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