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granvarones · 4 years

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the late great and house music pioneer, dj frankie knuckles, once said that house was disco’s revenge. and he wasn’t lying. but in the years between the racists- and homophobic-driven disco backlash in 1979 and the rise of house music in the late 1980’s, black, latinx and lgbtq club goers were building the queendom for the eventual reign of house music. and those building blocks included the sound of electro and freestyle music. when most people think of freestyle music – that is those who actually know or who are willing admit that they know what it is – they associate the complex genre of hard electro beats, loud bass drunks, orchestra hits and latin percussions exclusively with latinx or italian communities. but like disco, freestyle music has its roots in black music. at the start of the 1980’s, the state of dance music was wobbly at best. while the genre still thrived underground, it was seen as poison at the mainstream level. that was until the introduction of the roland tr-808 drum machine. one of the breakout songs to utilize this magic of of the 808 was afrika bambaataa’s 1982 hit “planet rock.” the song not only forged a new direction for hip-hop but it forever changed the sound of music. electro music, which was widely referred to as “breakdance music” in the early 1980’s, exploded on r&b radio with songs “one more shot” by c-bank featuring Jenny Burton and “play at your risk” and eventually in pop radio after the monstrous success of “let the music play” in 1983. and black artists were at the forefront of the movement. here are 15 songs that played a critical role in the history of freestyle music.

C-BANK “ONE MORE SHOT” 1983

afrika bambaataa & the soul sonic force’s 1982 hit “planet rock” sonically changed the sound of music. in 1983 c-bank, a studio project created by producer john robie, released “one more shot” featuring jenny burton. it helped launch the electro music genre.

PLANET PATROL “PLAY AT YOUR OWN RISK” 1983

“play at your risk” by planet patrol is one of the most brilliant electro songs. released in 1983 and produced by the same team that delivered “planet rock”, soul patrol’s vocal performance on “play at your risk” masterfully walked the line between doo-wop and electro.

SHANNON “LET THE MUSIC PLAY” 1983

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“let the music play” introduced the electro sound that later birthed the freestyle genre to the masses. released in 1983, the song peaked inside the top 10 on both the pop & r&b charts making shannon the mother of freestyle music.

XENA “ON THE UPSIDE” 1983

in 1983 world renowned vocalist lisa fischer (yes, that lisa fischer!) made her solo debut with the barbosa & ligget produced “on the upside” under the stage name “xena.” the song was a minor club hit in the US and UK.

CHAKA KHAN “MY LOVE IS ALIVE” 1984

after dominating r&b/funk music in the late 1970’s, chaka khan rebranded herself as a one of electro music’s leading vocalists with her 1984 album “i feel for you.” one of the album’s most slammin’ tracks was the john robie produced “my love is alive.”

SYLVESTER “ROCK THE BOX” 1984

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“rock the box” was the late great sylvester’s foray into the 808 drum machine universe after helping to introduce electronic dance with his 1979 hit “you make me feel (mighty real).” released in october 1984, “rock the box” proved that sylvester could pack the dance floors in the post-disco era.

LOLEATTA HOLLOWAY “CRASH GOES LOVE” 1984

loleatta holloway’s 1980 club hit “love sensation” is one of the most sampled songs in history featured prominently on marky mark and the funky bunch’s 1991 #1 pop hit “good vibrations.” loleatta reached #5 on the dance chart in 1984 with the arthur baker produced “crash goes love.”

CAROL LYNN TOWNES “99 1/2″ 1984

featured on the 1984 motion picture “breakin’” soundtrack (a movie about a white woman trying to appropriate the breakdancing movement), “99 1/2” was a slammin’ electro cover of the alton mcclain & destiny’s 1979 disco tune. townes’ cover peaked inside the top 10 on the dance chart and just outside of the top 20 on the r&b chart.

NOLAN THOMAS “YO, LITTLE BROTHER” 1984

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before milli vanilli pulled off one of pop music’s biggest scams in 1990, “nolan thomas” pulled a similar stunt in 1984. elan lanier, a black studio singer recorded vocals for “yo, little brother” but when it came time to release the single, a non-black performer was chosen to appear in the video and be the face of “nolan thomas.” produced by chris barbosa and mark ligget, “yo, little brother” reached #26 on the r&b chart and #57 on the hot 100.

FONDA RAE “TOUCH ME (ALL NIGHT LONG)” 1984

years before cathy dennis made “touch me (all night long)” an international hit, fonda rae’s original version was a club hit in 1984 peaking #5 on the dance chart. it was also featured in the 1985 “a nightmare of elm street” sequel “freddy’s revenge” – a horror film with the most gayest and homoeroticism subtext of all time.

TRINERE “I KNOW YOU LOVE ME” 1984

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trinere’s 1984 miami-bass hit “i know you love me” was produced by the genre’s creator pretty tony, the mastermind behind 2 of freestyle music’s most enduring hits “when i music” (1983) & “lookout weekend” (1984) by debbie deb. “i know you love me” was re-released in 1986 and reached #69 on the r&b chart.

NAYOBE “PLEASE DON’T GO” 1985

released in 1985 when nayobe was just 15 years old, “please don’t go” blended pop, dance, electro and latin music sensibilities. the song set the format for the latin-freestyle genre and every freestyle song that have since followed.

HANSON & DAVIS “HUNGRY FOR YOUR LOVE” 1986

the freestyle/house duo hanson & davis consisted of two former studio session singers. their sole hit was the pulsating “hungry for your love.” the song garnered heavy rotation at r&b radio and peaked at #16 on the dance chart in 1986.

JOYCE SIMS “ALL & ALL” 1986

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by the time singer/songwriter joyce sims hit the club scene in 1986, electro began to morph into a more house & latin-freestyle sound. joyce’s debut single, the matronix produced “all & all”, was the perfect blend of the aforementioned sounds. the song would become one of the first freestyle songs to chart inside the top pop 20 in the UK.

MONET “MY HEART GETS ALL THE BREAKS” 1987

“my heart gets all the breaks” is, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest freestyle songs of all time. released in 1987, the song peaked inside the top 20 on the dance chart and #48 on the r&b chart.

by the mid 1980’s, latinx artists like lisa lisa, the cover girls, safire, tka and nayobe had merged the electro sound with latin music sensibilities making way for the latin hip-hop sound that would later be identified as freestyle music. house music and new jack swing replaced the electro sound in black radio by 1988. today we honor of the electro/breakdance/freestyle music genres and the critical role they played in keeping Black, latinx and queer dance floors packed in the 1980s.

#granvarones #music history #1980s #freestyle music #queer #gay #afro-latinx #lgbtqia

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thebadchoicemachine · 3 years

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Can I call your sideblog tune town

Yes!

#the gayest of tunes and towns #queertunedvibes

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pinkspaceclub · 4 years

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Gay Travel Paris

Paris has all of the elements one needs for a fabulous vacation: romance, history, culture, and a population who embody la joie de vivre. Men sipping espresso at sidewalk cafes, women walking their canine companions down the wide avenue of Les Champs-Elysees, or couples frolicking carelessly around l’Arc de Triomphe, nothing is finer than a trip to Paris!

The center of gay Paris is the Marais, an old district in the 4th Arrondissement of Paris with lovely, narrow streets breathing centuries-old history. You'll find a good deal of gay bars, cafés and shops here, as well as plenty of gay-friendly eateries. The Marais is right in the heart of Paris where you'll find plenty of activities and things to do, walking distance to some of Paris' best museums anad culture. The close-knit community of the Marais makes it a lively and happening place to explore both at night and during the day.

Paris was the first European capital to vote in an openly gay mayor, and the city recently has hosted a number of important LGBTQ events, including the Gay Games in 2018.

Paris Gay Scene

Paris offers the gay traveler excellent nightlife and a comfortable atmosphere. The gay scene keeps its home in Le Marais, where you will find gay bars, restaurants, cafes, and shops. But while Le Marais is the heart of gay Paris, you'll find gay-friendly venues throughout the city. Club Banana Café has been around for ages, and while it hasn’t changed with the times, it remains popular in the Les Halles district. In Le Marais, sneak into Le Duplex for some quiet conversation, or be seen on the gayest terrace in town at Les Marronniers. French gays will be more than happy to stutter out their English – as long as you attempt to butcher French. Don’t expect them to know English, make an effort, and it will go a long way towards making a new friend! Lesbians are well looked after in Paris such as at Les 3W Kafé. Explore more lesbian travel tip for Paris in this gay travel diary.

While Paris is quite literally a city of love, the Paris pride festival (Marche des Fiertés) is not as international or as big as other European capitals, but it is the biggest LGBTQ event of the year in France.

When to Visit Paris

To maximize your croissant-nibbling, coffee-sipping, people-watching café time, we suggest visiting Gay Paris any time throughout the summer season when you will find that it is not too crowded since many Parisians are away for vacation. June is a fantastic time to be in Paris with the best weather, though you might run into large tourist crowds and long lines at tourist hotspots like The Louvre or Eiffel Tower. Visit in the summer for La Marche des Fiertés, the annual gay pride parade and festival in Paris. Paris Plage is a must-see in the summer when the borders of the River Seine are transformed into a beach promenade.

Expect to bundle up on French winter days as the temperature can be quite cold, but rarely will it drop below freezing. The spring and autumn months are comfortable, but of course quite unpredictable! October hosts the Nuit Blanche cultural festival, where artists add their creative energy to the city and makes a fine time to visit. But in the colder months, there is still plenty to see and experience in Paris, even if it's just enjoying an afternoon at a typical Parisian cafe.

Paris Gay-Friendly Activities & Attractions

Paris has been carefully planned for pedestrians with wide beautiful boulevards, manicured parks, and a dense network of public transportation. The Metro, buses, and trains, all allow easy access to destinations throughout the city and surrounding countryside. A map is highly recommended, as the serpentine streets lined with picturesque cafes, can easily cause visitors to lose themselves. Though that's part of the joy of being a tourist in Paris. The city is divided into 20 arrondissements, or districts, that spiral clockwise out from the city center, like the shell of l’escargot. Here are some of our favorite things to do in Paris

Notre Dame

On Monday, April 15, 2019, flames overtook the beloved landmark and religious site in Paris. All of our eyes were on Paris as a touching video of a crowd gathered near the Notre Dame to sing "Ave Maria" and pay their respects to this beloved piece of history and culture. We at the GayTravel.com are saddened by the damage and destruction done to this architectural treasure, but also encouraged by the fact that part of the cathedral was able to be saved, according to Paris Tourism, and by the fact that so many people have rallied to support the rebuilding of this iconic 800-year-old structure. In 2018, we named Paris the first GayTravel Approved® city in Europe, and our love has not faltered one bit. Paris, we stand with you through this tragedy and look forward to the day when the Notre Dame will be restored to her former glory! Even if you cannot visit the Notre Dame Cathedral while it undergoes renovations, you can still visit the banks of the River Seine to view it from a distance.

Centre Pompidou

While The Louvre is the largest art collection in Paris (and the world), the Centere Pompidou museum shouldn't be left off your radar while visiting Paris. The museum has an impressive collection of modern and contempoary art, many by openly LGBTQ artists. Check their exhibitions, as the museum regularly puts on exhibitions related to social and political causes.

Les Mots à la Bouche

Paris is famously a town for writers, poets, and artists, and it seems so many famous creatives throughout history have called Paris home at some point. Les Mots a la Bouche is a legendary booksstore in the Marais neighborhood which specializes in LGBTQ literature, community events, and more.

Paris Gay-Friendly Dining

Ground Control

Orchards, patios, clubs, boutiques, and above all, a dining area with a dozen venues offering ethically-produced world cuisines, the Ground Control market is one of the coolest spots in Paris, especially on a summer night. On weekends, it feels more like a club, though with lots of indendent food vendors with the highest quality foods and drinks available.

Maison Breguet

Under a great skylight and in a beautiful setting full of fresh plants, chef David Lanher creates a generous and convivial atmosphere with creative French cuisine on the menu.

Flow

For a unique dining experience in Paris, Le Flow is a restaurant on a boat! Located on the Left Bank, le Flow combines dinner, a theatre, and a rooftop all on a spacious barge anchored on the River Seine with a view of Pont Alexandre III.

Paris Gay-Friendly Bars & Nightlife

Most of the gay nightlife in Paris takes place in Le Marais—which on a summer weekend night, comes alive with bar-hoppers, both local and tourists.

RAIDD

One of the most iconic gay bars in Paris, RAIDD is a popular late-night club with regular DJs spinning tunes late into the night. The crowds here vary, but the real attraction are the go-go-dancers that dance in a rain room behind a waterfall.

Duplex

Just a short walk from Le Marais, Duplex is a more cozy and comfortable gay bar where you might be able to strike up a conversation with a stranger. The crowd here is a bit more bohemian than the Le Marais bars and you're more likely to here Morissey than Lady Gaga from the DJ.

Cox

Cox is the quintessentially Parisian Le Marais gay bar, with big windows for people-watching and often a crowd that spills out onto the streets. Come for happy hour for the best crowds and better opportunities to meet locals.

Safety

The vast majority of Paris is gay-friendly and travelers will have no problems holding hands or kissing a partner while outside. Like other European cities, Paris is relatively safe for most travelers, though with increased political and international issues universal across Europe, take care with your belongings and be aware of the surroundings. Most tourist neighborhoods in Paris are safe to visit, though be aware that petty crimes are common on the Paris metro subway.

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the-voice-of-hell · 4 years

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The Septagram

- Previous - First -

***

Rosemarie Miller was walking a cart of looted groceries home through relatively barren streets. A few homeless anarchists were grooving at a public fountain, hopping through the water to cool off as needed. She was jealous of their easy-going ways. The reason the pigs all high-tailed out of the region was always on her mind. Would she see the murderers? Would she have to deal with them?

The only reason she’d stayed behind was because she was trying to find her best friend, Jennifer Smith, and ended up missing a window of opportunity for an evacuation escort. She certainly wasn’t going to risk the wilder stretches of highway without an armed guard, so it was safer just to stay at home, in the flat part of Renton. The worst part of missing the opportunity was when she finally did find Jennifer, and learned the weirdo had stayed in town for the chance to rip wicked bicycle moves. Thanks, Jen.

The sky was hot and blue. That part of Renton was so flat that it felt like being at the bottom of a bowl, decorative hills off to the sides, infinite scorching void above. She looked at the new stainless steel apartments along the way. Should she just steal one? Was that where the anarchists were sleeping at nights? There was no evidence the door had been jimmied, so probably not. She reached her apartment, set down the groceries, and fished out her keys.

Suddenly, a distraction. That dragonfly sound of a bike chain speeding her way. As much as she knew it was Jen in her head, in her heart it was the murder clubs. She whipped around to see that goof zipping her way, dorky chipmunk teeth smiling, bleach blonde bob whipping the breeze, big light eyes behind dark-framed nerd glasses. Her frame was typical of a short, slightly pudgy person, but her limbs were bulging with creepy muscles. If she dehydrated enough she could do bodybuilding competitions.

“ROSIE! WHAT DID YOU GET ME?”

Rosemarie wasn’t going to play the shouting game. She waited until her friend was close enough to hear above the chains. But Jen didn’t stop, was heading straight toward her now at full speed. Rose cringed, falling to one knee.

Jen hit the brakes and twisted the bike’s frame in just the right way to spring off the ground with the momentum, spinning three times horizontally as she flew over Rose, and landed with her bike across her shoulders like Jesus carrying the cross.

“WHAT THE FUCK JEN!?” Shouting after all.

“What? That was fucking sick. You used to like my stunts.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me!”

“I hope not? I’m still sorry about that, and I’ll say it as much as you need me to.” She dropped the bike and sent it rolling to rest by the building’s stoop with one hand. “I wub you, come on!” She went in for a hug.

“No!” Rose held her back with a talon-like finger. “You’re sweaty and disgusting.” She relaxed. “I’ll make you something if you want. But you need to shower first.”

“Bossanova.”

Suddenly out of the clear sky they heard a thunder crack and peal. It rumbled and dissipated. Strange notes played in the wake, like the brass section of the world’s worst marching band, but weak as if from miles away. They were both looking north to Seattle proper.

“Doesn’t look like a storm,” Jen said.

“Maybe they’re gonna drop the bomb. Come die with a full stomach, loca.”

***

Clark Upton was a fortunate man. He had lived a long life of excitement and romance as a dancer, dance instructor, and choreographer in some of the gayest cities in the world. But this was Seattle, and it was starting to feel like the end of his run. Although his coughing had cleared up since most of the people evacuated (had he just been allergic to exhaust all this time?), there was apocalyptic air about the events that precipitated the change.

And now there was an apocalyptic air in the literal air outside his apartment. It had been a sunny summer day one minute, and then clouds began to rapidly form - between the buildings themselves. He was below those clouds on the seventeenth floor, but he could see that there were apartments in taller buildings that would be above them. The thunder began as soon as the clouds had, as a rumbling vibration through all the buildings, through the bodies of those still living there. It was building to a climax of some sort.

“Thurston? Thurstooon?” He called for his friend, but couldn’t make himself release his grip on the balcony rail. This wasn’t right.

Thurston Connor was another gay dancer and friend, staying with him while in town. The tall beautiful black man with his perfectly shaved head did not come to his call. Clark began to fear he wasn’t even in the same dimension as the guy.

Then the thunder burst out in a great crescendo and red sheet lightning bridged the clouds and the bus tunnel entrance on the streets below. Something began spilling out of the bus tunnel. Dark forms, tumbling and spinning and leaping, shiny instruments in their grips. It was like someone had taken a paper bag full of different noxious species of insects, shook them up to instill anger, and dumped them onto the ground.

The thunder subsided into a rolling menace, but less deafening than its initial burst. And under that sound he could hear them. It was a marching band.

“Oh dear. I’m having a stroke.”

He laid down on the grate floor of his balcony, amid clay pots and chair legs, and he waited to die. It was a lonely feeling. As good as his life had been, he’d known many moments of loneliness and he did not love them. He wished that he’d had a husband - someone who would be there for this. But then, it was never in his character.

The wind whipped wildly below him, carrying the discordant notes of the hellish stroke band. What was that tune? “Inna Godda Davida”? Yes, it was definitely in there, scored with the skill of Souza and played with the skill of Bob Log III. But there were other tunes being played simultaneously - pure torture. Oh no. One of the tunes was Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Clark made up his mind. Death was horrible, and he couldn’t stand it.

***

A thunderstorm had started in the north. Must be that summer thunder - not very common in the Puget Sound region, in Park’s experience. It didn’t look like there were enough clouds to cause any kind of rain, but it was hard to tell because it was very far away.

The headache was getting worse. He was in a previously vacant house they’d commandeered for barracks. Normally as evening began to fall, he’d be on the roof. He’d set up tall chair there so he could get a good view of the neighborhood and radio to get extra attention on anything suspicious. But this night, he found he was needing rest more than usual, and came down after just a few minutes.

For unit cohesion the guys were living with members of their respective agencies. All the Tacoma PD plus a few State Patrol and other local cops were sharing this house and the one next to it. More than half of them were on patrol or other tasks at the moment, leaving just a few guys behind. They were taking nightcaps and gambling in the living room.

“Hey guys.”

“You want in, Park?”

“Not right now. We got any good painkillers?”

“Legal or otherwise?”

“Watch it, Rickard.”

He ended up taking some Excedrin from one of the first aid kits on the kitchen counter, washing it down with a beer, leaning there under a bright kitchen light. He thought about joining the guys out there but really he didn’t want to play. He just wanted to hang out with Infante. He was afraid he’d made a bad impression earlier. Why was he being so weird? He shook his head, regretted it, then gulped more beer.

Infante came in, grabbing a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose out of the refrigerator. “Hey boss.”

“Hey, Infante. You don’t have to call me boss. Hell, I think we have the same salary.” He tried to smile but it looked like something crinkled and painful.

“Eh… It’s just easier.”

“I don’t recommend drinking that all by yourself. Gotta stay in fighting trim.”

“I know. I was gonna split it. We got glasses on the table.”

“Good man.” Why do I keep saying that? Christ. He had to get some air again, but up on the roof was too much tension, scanning the horizon for any sign of mischief. He went out the front door without saying goodbye.

The sky was getting dusky. People were having a lawn party across the street. A few children waved at him but mostly they didn’t like police. One even put his hand on the top of a baby’s head and turned it away from him. It didn’t bother him too much.

A dark-skinned woman in badly stained clothes staggered in the direction of the party. Her hair was long with puffy curls of varying sizes and shot through with little bits of plant matter. She was holding a hammer.

Park resisted the urge to pull his gun and quickly stepped between her and the party. “Ma’am, please. Stop.” Palms up.

She looked at his gun then looked at his face, scowling deeply. “I need to go.”

“That’s fair but maybe you should lose the tool and clean up a little. There are children over there. You’ll scare them.”

“Don’t care. I need to see Elijah.”

She started walking again and he hustled in front of her.

“At least give me the hammer. I’ll hold it for you.”

She looked confused, thought about it, picking up the hammer as if she’d forgotten she was carrying it, and then handed it to him. “I’m gonna need that back.”

He nodded and mutely accepted it, then followed about fifteen feet behind her. The hammer looked like it had been used to smash up a green compost heap. New, but recently rendered disgusting. He shook his head.

She walked up to one of the houses, stood at the porch for a moment scanning the crowd, then went inside. He hustled to close the distance and stood inside the door, trying to hold the hammer out of sight. Two little black kids played video games, but the house inside looked too nice to have children. Visitors. Park just watched her walking the house, looking for someone, listening to hear if she got in trouble.

Someone almost bowled him over coming inside. “Excuse me officer. Need more soda pop.”

“Elijah? Eliijah?”

The pop seeker yelled. “He ain’t here!”

She came back into the hall and stepped closer to her.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well what the fuck are you doing in his house?!”

“Hey! Calm down! There’s a cop riiight theeere.” She pointed at Park.

The messy lady was a little more clearly visible where the light of the kitchen came into the hall. She was thin, with thick and strongly curled eyelashes but thin eyebrows. She looked like she hadn’t changed clothes since the evacuations began.

“OK, fine!” She gestured angrily as she spoke. “Why are you and these boys in Elijah’s house? Why are those people on Elijah’s lawn?”

“He knows us. We’re just usin’ his food and nothin’ else. He wouldn’t mind.”

Park waved from the entrance. “We’re here but our priority is keeping people safe in the neighborhood. You’re not from around here, but you knew the owner?”

She scrunched up in impotent fury. “Yes I know Elijah. I don’t know her! I don’t know them!”

The boys didn’t like the look on her and jumped up, running past Park out to the lawn. The game beeped and yelled at nobody, controllers on the scuffed up old hardwood floor.

Park took a step toward her and offered a calming gesture, palm down. “You’ve been out there, right? Fighting your way here to find your friend? Listen. You can just stay in this house. Take a bath, wear some of his clothes, catch some real rest, OK?”

The soda hunter said, “Mm-mm, that’s between y’all. I’m just gonna get this soda pop and get, alright?”

The skinny lady blew past Park to head outside again. He turned to follow her. She started asking party goers. “You know where Elijah is? You know where Elijah is?”

Park held the hammer behind his back and offered a sympathetic look to the people. To a woman nearby, he quietly offered, “I can do something about her if you need me to.” She shook her head.

“Ippy. I know you.” A Q-balled thirtyish guy with strong arms regarded the skinny lady. Nobody turned down the music - some R&B diva going off the rails.

“I don’t know you.”

“We went to high school together. You me and Elijah.”

“I don’t remember you. Do you know where Elijah is?”

“Maybe he was at work when the shit went down, ended up evacuating before he got home. I haven’t seen him since it all happened.”

She shook her head slowly and looked stricken.

The bald guy looked kindly, “Aw girl, it’s OK. He’s probably fine.”

“I don’t have anyone.” She turned around and went past Park back to Elijah’s house.

The guy looked hurt. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

Park followed her into the house. In the living room, he got assertive.

“Ma’am, stop. Look at me.”

She stopped in the hall and slowly turned. Park did not like the look on her. He’d seen the expression on other people before - like they had their own lives, whatever was going on was the most important thing in the world, and that every cop in the world could blow away and they wouldn’t care.

“You don’t have to stay here, you can do what you want. But get a grip. Clean yourself up. I am not gonna let you have this hammer back unless you show me you aren’t unhinged.”

“Then keep it. Go away.”

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Iphigenia was glad to be rid of the cop. A chance to go cry in peace. She knew she’d never see her people again. Everyone died or left her behind. Her mind was spiralling the drain. She went to Elijah’s room and walked toward the bed.

There was a big dark shape there - another woman, old, sleeping? She had her eyes closed, head on a pillow. But her breathing was steady and easy - not the kind of racket the average person made in their sleep.

No, Ippy did not have time for other people, awake or otherwise. She went to the poorly maintained guest room. It had a bunch of half-folded laundry on the bed and she just flopped across the top of them in that slimy stinking condition.

Park had dropped the hammer in a garbage can on his way back to the cop house. Inside, he saw the poker game had ended prematurely. Only Infante and Rickard remained, sitting on the couch and looking through a book of DVDs.

“Wanna watch a movie now? What happened to the game?”

Rickard said, “I don’t know if I wanna watch something, really. Just...”

Infante said, “The game just got … not fun. We all started to get the creeps. Maybe just ‘cause somebody mentioned it, then we all started feelin’ it.”

“Huh. Yeah,” he looked at some kind of green stain on his hand from the nasty handle of the hammer, “It’s pretty creepy out there.” He looked back to them. “But that’s kinda strange. You guys alright?”

Infante dropped the book, leaned back, and looked at Park. “You alright? You look like you’re sleepwalking but somebody wired your eyes open.”

Park felt like he was blushing and looked away. “That bad, huh? Fuck it, I’ll try to go to sleep.” He made a few stops along the way, grabbing a harder beverage from the kitchen and looking around for more useful medicines.

There was still daylight coming through the windows and he shut the curtains as well as he could. He took off his gun holster and hung it near the bed with care, then stripped to a tank top and boxers. He turned off his radio, swallowed a ZzzQuil with a glass of ill-tasting rum, and settled down.

A few minutes later, still wide awake. It was like his eyes didn’t want to shut, were made of lighter material than that. He sat up, went to a corner and turned on a fan, then returned to bed. The white noise helped, and eventually the chemicals did too.

***

Maddy and Jason had to hike up a very steep hill to get out of that neighborhood. Exhausted, they took a rest stop at a lake. It was surrounded by private residences and they didn’t know which might have some paranoid lingering homeowners with guns, but there was also a senior care home on the lake, and it felt a bit more safe. There was just nobody in sight. Not a soul. Only a few ducks and geese wandered the surface, off in the distance. Jason felt like splashing some of that water on his face, but knew it would be full of bacteria - and he still had open cuts from the crash.

“A place like this has gotta have a nurse, right?”

“Safe to say she’s out of town, daddy.”

“Ah, but I bet she left some supplies in her office, right?”

“I don’t wanna break and enter.”

“It’s alright. Anyone would be understanding, given the circumstances. We can’t exactly motor on over to the nearest urgent care clinic and get patched up, can we?”

“I guess. But let’s do our best to not surprise anyone, OK?”

They knocked, they yelled, and they broke and they entered. The place was bereft of human life. Fortunately, as with most of their journey, there weren’t any corpses either. Safely evacuated. They improvised some medical treatment, ate some food, drank lots of water, and ultimately decided to call it a night.

In a room with two beds alongside each other, they laid themselves out. Maddy insisted to leave the light on, but they lowered the blinds.

“We’re doin’ good, hon.”

“Oh really? I don’t think so. I messed up pretty bad today.”

“I would’ve done the same thing at the wheel. Don’t think about it. Listen.”

“What?”

“We should steal a car tomorrow.”

“Whaaat? No!”

“It’s gonna be a reeeally long hike down I-5, Baby. We shouldn’t have to do that. You know I avoid talking about the … bad men, but do I have to remind you? The plan was to breeze by them. Eighty em’s pee aitch. Can’t do that on your Keds.”

“They’re New Balance and… I just don’t think it’s good. Everyone is going to come back, and lots of people are gonna find stuff stolen. We shouldn’t make anyone go through that.”

“Well listen then, I got an idea. When we take the car we write down the license plate and make, all that. And then we use the information to find the people, let ‘em know we’ll cover the damage. Right?”

“...I guess. I guess so.”

“OK, snuggle up buttercup. Let’s catch every Z and make ‘em our bitches.”

“*snrk* That’s horrible. Good night, Daddy.”

“Good night, Princess.”

Outside the blinds, outside the glass, the night air swirled in an unnatural miasma. The world was changing.

***

Ippy had cried herself to sleep, hugging Elijah’s clean laundry, making it filthy. But in the night, her eyes popped open. Somebody was mumbling. The old lady in the other room.

She sat up, felt like her body was turning into a statue and she interrupted the process rudely. It protested by making her movements embarrassing and stiff. She staggered into the hall, footsteps as light as she could manage, and leaned against the wall outside Elijah’s room, listening.

The lady’s voice was quiet as if she wasn’t talking to anybody, expecting anyone to hear. And yet, she said, ”Iphigenia. Come and hear.” Ippy’s body threatened to freeze solid, her eyes widened.

She went inside, feeling along the wall, not sure if she should turn on the lights. She decided not to. “Yes?”

“The Sibyls sing. Will you listen and understand?” Her body was still. A shape. She was breathing evenly between her quiet pronouncements. Eerie.

“Not like I have anything better to do.” Ippy almost choked on her words, but then she took halting steps forward, tried to bend her ear. The old lady was so quiet.

“They never mattered. You do. The murderers will come to you, come to die. They will break upon you like water.”

“What? How? What do you mean? How can I--”

“It doesn’t matter. They didn’t matter and their deaths will not matter. But you do, Iphigenia. If you only think of them you won’t understand.”

She was standing loose in a midnight blue void. No light, no understanding. “Fine, fine. What do I need to understand?”

“The murderers opened the door. What comes through will change the world. But you will decide. Your hand will decide what that means.”

“I don’t care what it means. Not now.”

“The die is cast. Alea iacta est.” She moaned louder than anything she had said, moved fitfully.

“Ah, are you OK ma’am? You need help?”

The moaning almost sounded like crying for a moment, but then faded away. She propped herself up. “Oh girl. Can you help me get to the bathroom?”

“Yes. I can do that.”

It wasn’t easy. The old lady was closer to four hundred pounds than three hundred, but she put in enough effort of her own to make the move possible. “Oh Honey,” she said. Her voice had dropped to the soft tone of her prophesying.

Ippy listened close in case there was anything else to glean. “Yes?”

“You smell really bad. God love you, but you need to wash yo ass.”

***

Park’s skull was a house and he was living inside. He had no curtains. The miasma of the changing world could pour right in if it wanted to. Maybe surface tension kept those clouds at bay. There was a light behind them as well, like the brightest sun trying to get through. He didn’t want to experience that sun. He knew it was going to hurt.

He sank into the bottom of his cranium, ass wedged into the dip where the brain stem passed the bony cage. He covered his eyes and hoped it would go away but the light was getting stronger. He dared to look and up above, his fontanelle was opening again.

The plates of the upper part of the skull were coming unseamed, a star-shaped light streamed through. The miasma didn’t reach up there, only that illumination. With the photons came sound waves, rippling through his body, pinning him in place. A ring of swarthy old white men stood at the edges of the opening, looking down on him. They were wearing various togas or standing nude but for sandals.

“What the hell? I’m trying to sleep!”

One opened his mouth, then another, then another. A humming sound increased. He began to know things. He knew they were the Oracles and that their light was going to consume him whether he wanted it or not.

The light, the knowledge, took shape. He beheld a vision. At first it was a relief to escape the weird scene in his head, but he still felt the vibrations and heat passing through his body, and knew it was just a vision of the future.

He was in a throne room. Infante was suspended from his wrists, stripped to the waist, sweating. A pale, smiling, red-haired white woman was seated on the throne towering above him. The throne itself was carved to resemble a camel, head snaking up from between her legs, and a massive bone crown sat above her heavily painted face. She looked ten feet tall, wide at the bottom with huge thighs, spoke in an unknowable voice. Every word she said caused Infante pain and he jerked on his chains.

Another creature was behind her, even larger, horned, cloaked in shadow. And then someone stepped in front of her, holding a familiar hammer. Park couldn’t see her face but he recognized her big black hair, her dark brown hands.

Then Infante began to scream, distracting him. He turned around and saw the young man’s body tense, muscled, dripping with sweat. And his face was taut, wracked. Something terrible was going to happen. Park felt his pain and his heart almost burst.

Snap. Back in his skull, then rolling out of bed. He hit the floor face first and hurt his mouth and ribs. Did he bite his cheek? No, but the inside of his lower lip was pressed between teeth and the floor enough to break skin. And he needed to go to the bathroom badly as well. He used the bed to climb up to his feet and staggered that way clutching his belly.

After finishing his business there but before cleaning up, the cop sat on the toilet, his head in his hands. Must’ve been the ZzzQuil. He’d never used that stuff before. But somehow he knew that wasn’t true - knew that he’d seen the future.

“The oracles sing,” he said quietly. “The story is already written.”

Somebody knocked on the bathroom door. “You alright in there?”

“It’s occupied, Rickard. Fuck off.”

***

Morning sun coming from on high in the east, streaming over the hill down into the valley of ghost cows. The red manure haze hadn’t been kicked up yet, fog still clung to stands of trees near houses and around the road.

Blood and glass covered the road like marble. Alongside the road, along and under. The mud was red. It could all be blood. There could be so much blood that it would mean somebody was surely dead, and you wouldn’t know because the mud was so red.

Tangled roots in the embankments just teased at a notion of escape but there could be none. They were too thin and the earth too loose to offer a sure grip. You’d just be pulling carrots too easily, like Bugs Bunny having a good day.

Maddy was in that muddy ditch again, but it was deeper and the car was more mangled. She was so worried about her father but he was hard to see through the spiderwebbed glass and maddening distortions of the twisted metal.

Plus she had the monster up on the road to deal with. What had it been? Had it lived? Would it come for them? She kept glancing up there, half sure she was seeing glimpses of it. No, she thought. She would get daddy out and he would be able to stop it. She knew he would be OK because she had already done this before.

“Just another minute, Baby. Gotta adjust my baby seat, haha. That’s all.”

He just kept making inane statements of blithe positivity. Things that didn’t even make sense. Was he crazy from blood loss and shock? Would he go into a coma?

“Nobody keeps a good man down. I’m like a rodeo made outta dynamite.”

“...I’m working my way up to it. I’ll get out of here and do a tap dance just to show you how OK I am. Or make a sausage outta one of these cows.”

“You never knew your mom as well as I did. She could turn a Vietnamese submarine into a pretzel with her nose. She was my queen, Princess.”

She banged and slapped the metal, shrieking, hoping he would hear her over his mad droning, knowing he wouldn’t. She left red handprints up and down the car doors.

Suddenly the car door popped free and open. She fell against the embankment, looking in at her dad with a sense of fear that she didn’t understand. He was just sitting there coyly, hands in his lap, thumbs together, smiling.

“Hi, snookums.”

“You have to… to get out...”

“I told you I could do it. Just let me stretch my legs for a minute.”

He started pushing himself free of the driver’s seat using only his legs. He kept his hands clasped over his belly, body leaning back in that casual pose. His legs finally popped him free of the dashboard and began lifting him into the air. They were too long, too thin - and covered in bark like birch trees.

Maddy woke in a panic, but settled down once she remembered where she was and once she realized she’d been dreaming. She composed herself and dragged Jason out of bed.

As she tried to penetrate his foggy morning demeanor, she became possessed by a worry that the longer they took getting to the Beacon Hill safe zone, the more things could go wrong - the worse the situation would get.

Jason kept up his sunny demeanor, but went along with her demand for urgency. They decided that cars from businesses or apartments would be less likely to have angry shotgun grandpas protecting them, and set to finding one.

At last they found a business with a garage that they were able to break into. The sun outside had just finally fully risen, but they were in relative darkness. Jason found the key that corresponded to the company car they were going to steal - a charcoal grey Prius advertising pest control on the doors - and pushed its buttons. With a beep the thing came to life, signal lights gleamed on their lowest setting.

“Paydirt. And the phone number for the owner is right on the side. How do you like that, Baby?”

“Thanks for listening, dad.” She poked around in the gloom for a button to open the garage door. They were able to get their bodies in through a side door, but would need the big one rolled up to get the car out.

Suddenly they both became aware of a sound growing, coming closer. A marching band? One so big it shook the earth. Maddy had found the switch she needed, but she didn’t dare flick it. Instead, she gripped an exposed structural beam for dear life, half expecting it to grow into an earthquake. She looked at her father and he looked at her face, etched in confusion and fear.

The rumbling definitely was coming from whatever was making that music. It was a cacophony of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” “March of the Gladiators,” and … Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball”? The sound and the vibration made it clear, this band wasn’t just marching down the thoroughfare - they were a line stretching from one horizon to the next.

At its horrid climax, the sounds were from all around them, they could hear bodies and metal slapping against the outside of the garage, hear feet running over the roof. Maddy jumped and collapsed as shadows began to fall in front of the nearest window - the players leaping down from the roof to continue their mad dash over the world.

And just when they thought it was for sure moving away, that their fear could diminish, they heard a joyous voice cry out - echoed by another a hundred feet away, and another.

“QUEEN BYMAAN WALKS THE EARTH. THOU ART HEREBY SUBJECT TO THE AUTHORITY OF EXALTED LUCIFER! YOURS IS NOW THE KINGDOM OF HELL!”

The voices died down, piping up again barely audible in the distance, following behind the line of the great unholy band.

“Baby, um… Oh no, Baby!”

She was collapsing under the weight of terror. He jumped over the car hood to get to her as fast as he could. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape, head lolling. Jason took his daughter in his arms, kissed her sweaty temple, held her close.

“Don’t worry about that, Honey. It’s nonsense. Just some… nonsense...”

***

- Next -

#The Septagram

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vintagebeverly · 7 years

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autumn leaves (reddie) chapter two

Eddie hasn’t seen the trees change colors since he was a kid, so Richie deems that the two of them should take a road trip to Derry and see the trees change colors. Cue lots of bad car karaoke, too much coffee, and Eddie absolutely losing his mind over the gorgeous reds, oranges, and yellows of the fall leaves.

Or the one in which Eddie hates Richie, of course, until he falls in love with him.

Words: 1609

Warnings: lots of swearing, underage smoking (sorta)

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff with angst mixed in

read chapter one here

“Our first stop is the lovely sight-seeing deck on the outskirts of this shitty town.” Richie shouted over the wind hollering in their ears. He refused to have the windows of the car up while the weather was so beautiful.

“Oh no, no useless stops, Richie!” Eddie sighed. He knew Richie would stop at nothing to bother him, even if it meant altering his travel plans. Richie turned to face Eddie for a brief moment before focusing on the road again.

“It’s not useless, Eds,” he explained, “It really is a lovely little place. Just this once, and we won’t make anymore extra stops.”

“Fine.” was all Eddie said as he stared at the trees flashing by. Richie smiled. He continued to drive down the long load, looking to the boy at his side every now and then. Eddie seemed somewhat unhappy, but Richie hardly noticed. The cool autumn air and the wind flowing through his long, curly hair while he was sat next to the boy of his dreams made everything okay. While the leaves on the trees in this small town were merely gone, he still believed the town to be beautiful because of the boy who lived in it.

When they reached their destination, it was almost sundown. Once Eddie was out of the car, Richie grabbed his hand and lead him up some wooden steps to the promised observation deck. Eddie felt miserable as he was forced to be there, but he found solace in the sunset. Orange, purple, and pink hues splashed together to create a breathtaking scenery, and that wasn’t even the best part. Not to him, at least. He looked down and saw nothing but homes. People walked around, rode on bikes, even greeted each other. It reminded him of how his life used to be, back in Derry. Sure, he kept in touch with his close friends such as Bill and Beverly, but he missed the way things were. A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Why are you looking down there? Isn’t the sunset beautiful?” Richie sighed dreamily. Eddie looked at him, and back at the sky. He watched as the clouds slowly moved and drew in a breath slowly. He felt the sun rays on his face and closed his eyes, then turning to look at Richie again. He didn’t even think twice about the other boy staring back at him. Richie leaned in, slowly.

“Let’s get out of here, it’s getting dark.” Eddie turned on his heel and started walking down the wooden steps. Richie followed him quickly, almost tripping a handful of times. As they were back in the car, day turned to night and light to dark. They drove in silence with the windows up. Richie dug around in his pocket, found a cigarette, and went to light it. “What the fuck are you doing?” Richie’s head whipped around to see Eddie staring at him in horror.

“Just going for a smoke, Eds, it’s fine.” Richie had been smoking since he was fifteen, so he didn’t see the big deal. Of course, he had never done it in front of Eddie before, but that had only been by chance. He realized Eddie was uncomfortable with the smoke filling his lungs, but they were his lungs, and if he wanted to fuck them up, he could.

“It’s not fine, I don’t want that anywhere near me. Do you know the dangers of secondhand smoke?” asked Eddie. Richie sighed and put the cigarette back in his pocket. He didn’t want to ruin his good mood, and arguing with Eddie would do just that. “Thank you.” Eddie’s tone was highly irritated, but Richie knew he would calm down within a matter of minutes. As the clock hit three am, Eddie drifted off to sleep while Richie hummed a soothing tune to himself. Richie had had problems with sleep, staying awake until ungodly hours of the morning just because he couldn’t control the thoughts running through his mind where the norm. Of course, when the clock hit four am, all Richie could think about was the boy in the passenger seat. Eddie had been acting strange as of late, but Richie, with his filtered hearing, hadn’t really picked up on it until that very moment. He seemed to snap at Richie often, too often for comfort. Perhaps he was just adjusting to the move. Of course this explanation couldn’t have been right, he had moved two years earlier, but Richie stuck with that theory, as it made the most sense to him at the moment. Yes, Eddie just missed his home and was taking it out on those near to him. That was all.

“Morning sleepy head!” Richie greeted as Eddie sat up in--wait, a bed?

“Where are we?” he questioned, starting to get sort of pissed off.

“Found this cute little motel at the state border. I was just gonna take a piss, but the staff were so friendly I decided we had to stay the night!” Richie clasped his hands together, “Actually, I was just fucking tired and wanted to sleep. You snore a lot, you know that?” He took a sip of the water bottle he was holding.

“Shut up,” Eddie threw the covers off of himself and got up, still fully clothed, and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Wait… did you carry me in here?”

Richie spat out the water he was drinking.

“You were heavy, too.” he played it off. Eddie held back a smile. Being with Richie had Eddie feeling some type of way. He felt as if he needed to hate him, he even wanted to, but he couldn’t. He could hardly breathe when he was around the taller, curly haired boy, and he wondered why. How come it stressed him out to no end to sit next to Richie? To even be near him? His heart stopped whenever the boy spoke for fuck’s sake. Eddie shook his head and turned to Richie.

“Where’s my stuff? I’m gonna shower and then we’re out of here.” he questioned. Richie smirked and strode over to him. He seemed more smug than usual.

“In the car,” he answered, and before Eddie could even get another word out, Richie pulled a sweater from his suitcase. “Wear this.” he said as he held the sweater up the Eddie. It almost went down to the boy’s knees. Eddie felt his face heat up.

“You’re an asshole.” He snatched the sweater out of Richie’s hands and turned around, closing the bathroom door behind him. He heard Richie snicker behind the door as he started the shower.

Richie bit his lip as Eddie stepped out of the bathroom in his sweater. His hair was damp and curly, his freckles popping out at Richie like they never had before. Eddie looked at him, with a gorgeous yet confused look on his face. Richie cleared his throat, but continued to look Eddie up and down before speaking up.

“Let’s get outta here.” And within the blink of an eye, they were checked out and back in the car, windows down and music loud. Eddie stared at Richie in awe, watching him sing loudly to the lyrics of whatever Guns N Roses or Beatles song was playing at the moment. He analyzed his face, watching as his chapped lips moved in time with the music, his head bobbing up and down, his curls loosely framing his face. He watched as his fingers tapped the steering wheel while his eyes were fixated on the road. Richie glanced at Eddie and smiled, Eddie whipping his head around, pretending to look at something else. Richie looked at the clock, seeing it was 11 am, and sped up a bit.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie softly asked. Richie smirked and sped up more.

“There’s no traffic on this old road, is there?” he asked. Eddie supposed there wasn’t, and Richie started to go faster and faster. They zoomed down the country road and Eddie watched as dead trees turned to bushes, and soon bushes turned to nothing but dirt. He knew they were going to get lost, but at the moment he didn’t care. Usually, he would be anxious about such things, but he found comfort in driving down this particular road with the music loud. He smiled and turned to look at Richie again, who was basically screaming the lyrics of the songs at this point. Eddie thought of a million reasons why this should’ve been dangerous, but he felt safe with Richie there. He didn’t dare look at the speed monitor, after all, it didn’t even matter to him how fast they were going. It didn’t even feel like driving on a road anymore, more like floating above it. Everything seemed to disappear around him as he looked at Richie. His scream-singing, the music itself, and the loudness of the wind passing by the windows was tuned out. Everything was silent and everything was Richie. The sun shined down on Richie’s face, illuminating his freckles, creating a glare in his glasses, and lighting up every inch of his soft, brown hair. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off him. He finally found the strength to speak.

“Are we lost?” his anxiety seemed to get the best of him. The sudden speech gave Richie a fright and he slowed down almost immediately. He turned to Eddie and smiled.

“Do you feel lost?” he asked, “‘Cause I don’t.” Now it was Eddie’s turn to smile. He supposed the feeling of being lost hadn’t even materialized itself within him.

“No,” he paused, “It’s more like… I feel found.”

a/n: this is the gAYEST SHIT ive ever written in my life and i;m sorry,,,,, but it’s gonna get more fluffy from here,, also angst is coming so just u wait;;;;,,

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #it 2017 #reddie fanfiction #reddie imagine #fanfiction #it fanfiction #my things #fics #reddie fics

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alarriefantasy · 7 years

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Here is this week’s Fic Rec!

1. Love Endless (The Road to Recollection) by wubwubnparmaham

Words: 171k Tumblr: @wubwubnparmaham

The year is groovy 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright. Would be fine if he wasn't so viciously bullied at both home and school for such a "harmful" sexual preference.

Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this story, haven't we? Believe him, Louis didn't think he was anything special either.

Until he found the mansion. The notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Idaho. No one with a brain ever goes near it, but Louis could use a little excitement in his life...and possibly a Band-Aid or two.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he'd thought, he's now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime; every new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won't they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator...and who the hell is Alexander?

Part 1 of Love Endless

2. Taken by the Wind by lightofathousandstars

Words: 12k Tumblr: @scrunchyharry

When he decided to move to London with his sister, Harry thought he would finally get to learn how to control his magic. He couldn't possibly have predicted that he would fall for her neighbour.

Or the one where Harry is a clumsy witch and Louis is making everything worse just by existing.

3. Wanted Most by paladincoolcats

Words: 156k

Louis Tomlinson is a thief, and a damn good one at that. Most have heard of him. Most don't understand him. And Harry Styles is the FBI agent who can never seem to catch him.

4. The Way You Make Me Feel by orphan_account

Words: 6k

"You couldn't last a damn day without trying to sleep with me."

"I can last a whole fucking week," Harry says, rising to Louis' challenge.

"Wanna make a bet on that, Styles?"

"You're on," Harry grins.

Or, Disney AU where Louis and Harry try not to fuck in public places.

5. Candles On Air by isthatyoularry

Words: 29k Tumblr: @isthatyoularry

Harry’s smile is filled with unconditional love — just not the right kind. Louis has told himself for years that it’s okay. Harry loving him the way he can is enough. Each year it gets a little harder to repeat the same mantra.

"It gets better. It will pass. His friendship is enough."

Harry has taken the liberty of putting on classic Christmas tunes on the speaker in the kitchen, and as their shared flat isn’t the largest Louis can hear Mariah Carey’s crooning from where he’s perched on the small sofa in the living room. Harry is on the floor, humming along. And yes. All Louis wants for Christmas is Harry.

A Christmas AU ft. Pining, Heartbreak, and maybe A Happy Ending.

#fic rec #fic recs #larry fics #larry fic #larry fic rec #larry recs #larry stylinson #larries #larents #lourry #larry #harry styles #louis tomlinson #one direction #au #archive fics

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sadnessiscoldtea · 7 years

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1. Age: 21. Not a fan of being an adult.

2. Biggest Fear: Being alone. Shit that was deep, let’s not do that again.

3. Current time: 12:26 am

4. Last Drink: Vodka and Cranberry juice. Winning at life!

5. Everyday Starts With: Debating whether or not to leave me bed and give in to gravity.

6. Favourite Song: Dr Feelgood Motley Crue

7. Gayest Moment: Haha Had far too many pros of being bi.

8. Home Town: Let’s just go with Sheffield it’s close enough

9. Relationship or In Love With: Hell will freeze over first before I’m in a relationship or in love

10. Jealous: A Lot, I’m not proud ok

11. Killed Someone: Nope and hopefully will never do so

12. Last Time I cried: Yesterday depression's a bitch

13. Middle Name: May

14. Number of Siblings: 3 sisters

15: One Wish: To not have to worry about money and paying my bills. How very adult of me

16. Person You Last Called/ Texted: My best buddy Jake

17: Question You’re Asked Most: Do you and your twin look the same?

18: Reason To Smile: Cuppa Tea

19. Last Song Sung: Paper Crown Alec Benjamin (Banging Tune)

20. Time You Woke Up: 12:30pm

21. Worst Habit: Biting My Nails

22. X-Rays You’ve had: Chest and Foot

23. Your Favourite Food: Tacos (Sue me)

24. Zodiac Sign: Libra

@deathbyapril

I tag: @mymakoharuromance

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bellabooks · 7 years

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“Pretty Little Liars” recap S7 Ep 13: Hold Your Piece

Previously on Pretty Little Liars, Emily was up to her ears in dyke drama and Hanna was attacked by the one thing she loved most: designer shoes. We open at the Hastings barn, where Spencer wakes up to the sound of a crying baby from A.D.’s board game phone. Despite lowering the volume and turning off the phone, the crying persists, driving Spencer nuts. She calls the Liars over (except for Ali, who is Out Of Town this week) and each Liar refuses to take the phone home with them…until Hanna lays her hands on it. Guess it’s Hanna’s turn to play the game. Hanna also says that Alison’s married name, Alison Rollins, sounds like a mouthful of muffin. Incidentally, Mouthful of Muffin sounds like a delightful romantic comedy about two gals who open a bakery together. Okay, the film opens on two cute girls innocently kneading some dough… Hanna’s dress has landed in style sections and blogs, but before she can celebrate, Emily finds a blogger blind item calling the dress stolen. Also, Hanna still hasn’t told Caleb about the board game, which makes no sense…like, he’s been involved in seven years of A shenanigans, why keep him out of the loop now? Spencer is at the Brew, where she runs into Toby, who tells her that Yvonne woke up from her coma. As he rushes back to the hospital, Spencer sees Det. Marco wearing a sweater so tight you can see his nips. He invites her out for a day of awkward flirting, and tells her it will make him feel better for not finding the person who shot her. UGH what is wrong with men. Wanna waste some time with me and my overly sheer sweater? Wanna find the person who shot me? Aria and Hanna decide to track down Sydney to see if she’ll drop a trail of bread crumbs that lead to Jenna. Aria needs the distraction, since every time she turns on the TV she’s met with Nicole and Ezra frolicking in Central Park with their miraculous love. Hanna gets a text from A.D. and there’s an ominous knock at the door. Who could it be? It’s a dummy with Hanna’s face sewn on! The dummy has a cord in the back that, when pulled, tells Hanna to look for the appendix. Hannaquin 2: On the Move! Caleb sees the Hannaquin and immediately knows it’s a classic A move. He pulls out a big ol’ bag of spy stuff for the Liars to stalk Sydney with, and heads to the barn to hack his way into the board game. Meanwhile, Hanna goes through every appendix in every book in the loft, before realizing that it’s of course the Hannaquin’s appendix inside the doll body. Lucas swings by the loft to remind Hanna that they have a meeting with Japanese investors that night. Hanna is pumped for the meeting and ready to show off her designs. What could possibly go wrong? Hanna, I’m not leaving you for this Hannaquin. This beautiful, sexy Hannaquin… There’s also a big chunk of time spent on Marco and Spencer playing ping pong in a children’s after school program, where they flirt and we learn SO MUCH about Marco’s sad childhood. SNOOZE. There’s seven episodes of this series left, and guess what mystery I don’t want solved? Knockoff Toblerone’s sob story. Why are they spending time on this? It’s even more frustrating when we realize that Yvonne is definitely gonna die in this episode. How do we know Yvonne is going to die? Let’s look at the evidence: she spends the entire episode planning her fantasy future with Toby after they have a quickie hospital wedding. Sorry Yvonne, but I know my way around a soap opera, and this is classic soap. It’s been nice knowing you Yvonne. So I’m dying AND I don’t get a love story with Emily? This show sucks. Back at the loft, Hanna has prepped a Dexter-worthy kill room and begins the operation of Hannaquin. She cuts the doll open and removes a bloody plastic bag with a pair of kitchen tongs. The bag contains a dress for her to wear for her investor’s meeting, which can best be described as a racist Halloween costume. Meanwhile, Emily and Aria team up to cyber-stalk Sydney, and find that she’s now a world traveling banker with a swanky apartment in Fishtown (clearly the gayest of the Philadelphia suburbs). They find pics of Sydney taking photos of the senator’s daughter, leading them to believe that she leaked the stolen dress story on Jenna’s behalf. Could Sydney be the second shooter? Could Emily be moving to Fishtown? So many questions, and so few answers. Emily, I promise, once we’re done sleuthing we’ll look for a tasteful two bedroom in Fishtown. Also, I refuse to write more about this Spencer scene, but I just wanted to let you know that I wrote “this guy blows” about Marco no less than three times. Emily and Aria pull up to Sydney’s office, and Aria starts hacking into the office wifi like she’s some sort of Mona. Apparently, Caleb taught her all about hacking in like, an hour, which is surprising to Emily since Aria spent most of 9th grade with her phone on airplane mode. Emily sees Sydney leaving the office and goes to follow her. Emily tries to pretend that she accidently ran into Sydney, but Sydney sees right through her. Emily Fields: great lesbian, horrible liar. She questions Sydney, who reveals that she only took the photos to help Jenna with a practical joke, and that they drifted apart. Likely story. You’re my OKCupid date? I need to move to a town with more than 5 lesbians. Emily hops back in the car with Aria, and they tail Sydney to a vision center, where they overhear her making a deposit for Jenna’s new eyeballs. You know, that old eyeball layaway gambit. Sydney says that the deposit should read from A.D. aka anonymous donor, and Aria realizes that A.D. is paying Jenna off, possibly for luring the Liars to the blind school. The plot thickens! Emily and Aria storm up to Sydney, where Aria Montgomery of all people plays the bad cop! She slams Sydney into the wall and demands to know what she’s hiding. Damn, where’s this girl been for seven seasons? Sydney says that the deposit was just a favor for one of the bank’s clients, and warns the Liars to stay away from Jenna. Aria hands her back her yoga bag, and Sydney says “Namaste, bitch” which is delightful. Sydney also calls Aria a chihuahua, which is hilarious because they both have big eyes and look constantly scared. What dogs would the other Liars be? Emily would probs be an Irish Setter, Hanna would be a fancy poodle, and Spencer would be an Weimaraner. Mona would obviously be a Persian cat. In the kerfuffle, Aria planted a tracker in Sydney’ bag, so they can keep tabs on her. These two are giving me serious Cagney and Lacey vibes. I came here to date creepers and kick ass, and I’m all out of creepers! JK they’re everywhere. Spencer arrives home to find Caleb examining the board game. He is literally examining it with a stethoscope, which looks ridiculous. Maybe after he’s done he’ll give the board game a lollipop. Spencer and Caleb haven’t really spent any time together since they broke up, but they both agree that they want to be friends, and then remark over how easy it is to go back to normal. This is bananas, because no one would be that blasé about screwing their best friend’s boyfriend. Some of us still hide behind cars/fruit stands/other people when we see our exes, I’m just sayin’. Who knew these props from our Grey’s Anatomy roleplay would come in handy? Before they can share a drink and reminisce about the times before they boned, Caleb pries up a piece of the board game and gets blasted in the face with poison gas. He starts choking, and Spencer calls 911. Damn, this board game is elaborate. I would not be surprised if this thing grew teeth and tried to take a bite out of the Liars at this point. Hanna shows up at Radley wearing a trench coat over her terrible dress. She tells Lucas that no matter what goes down in the meeting, she’ll always be grateful to him for taking a chance on her and being such a good friend. Before the meeting can even start, she finds out that Caleb is in the hospital and splits, leaving Lucas with her dresses and sketches. Caleb is recuperating in the hospital when Hanna rushes in. He’s worried that A.D. will be angry about her messing up the game, but Hanna doesn’t care. She later gets a text saying she won’t be getting a puzzle piece, which, whatever. The Liars talk about how unfair the game is, and realize that the goal of the game is to keep them off-kilter and bickering at each other. Spencer goes to visit Yvonne, only to find a devastated Toby: Yvonne is dead. Aria arrives home to Ezra’s apartment and sees a shadowing figure waiting for her. She grabs a knife, but it turns out to be Nicole. Chihuahua powers activate! Det. Marco opens an envelope from A.D. that contains a moldy old severed finger. Is it from Mrs. DiLaurentis? Or Bethany Young? Or some other dead person? Tune in next week, when we find out who killed Jessica DiLaurentis, and just how much gas is in that board game. Tweet me your feels/Liar-dog pairings at @ChelseaProcrast http://dlvr.it/P3hJ1d

#Television #PLL #Pretty Little Liars

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myawfulfanfictions-blog · 7 years

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I literally titled it Western Sexytimes BTF

Marty McFly was so done with all this shit. First he gets sent back to the past and has to fight his mother’s attentions and play matchmaker between her and his dad. Then he goes to the future to save his kid but old Biff screws things up and changes the past. Then he goes back to the past before his starting point to prevent young Biff from screwing things up. Then he has to go to the Wild West. Dressed like the gayest cowboy in the world.

And apparently in the wild west, sexual orientation didn’t matter much as long as a guy was on top. But the poor fool on the bottom? Well, let’s just say the slang was surprisingly similar to what they used nowadays.

It all started when he first landed/drove into the wild west and the Indians were chasing him.

They stopped and stared.

Then an old wrinkled Indian with feathers and beads in his hair dismounted his horse. He turned to Marty and spoke.

“White man sodomizer,” he said in heavily accented English.

When Marty escaped them he ran into the cavalry.

“Well I say, I’ve never seen anything quite so…effeminate,” said a mustached cavalry leader.

Hell even the bear tried telling Marty how gay he was with interpretive dance, consistently pointing to its nether regions and Marty’s ass.

And when Marty was saved by his own great-grandfather’s parents, they gave him strange looks. But the baby said it straight out. “Gaygayagay,” Great grandpa William babbled in Marty’s arms before peeing on him with a knowing look. Which is totally creepy on a baby, to be honest.

Then he went into town. Everyone stared at him, man and woman. Even the children stared.

So he entered the Saloon looking for Doc.

“Hey McFly. Ah thought ah told you t’never show yer face here again,” of course. What would time travel even be without running into a Tannen?

Then he turned around and there was a manly looking cowboy with a gang of gunslingers giddily gawking-okay, evil cowboy henchmen (Marty’s brain gets alliterative when he’s nervous).

“An’ who might you be, li’l Pansy lookin fella?”

“Marty-Clint. Clint Eastwood,” he said.

“Well ain’t he purty in pink, right fellas?” Marty blushed as another mothertrucking Tannen got into his personal space.

“Check out them teeth boss,” said evil cowboy henchman number 1. “Only a man in’erested in th’ biznis o’ pleasurin’ other folks keeps his teeth that clean.”

The men were leering at Marty.

“He’s much prettier th’n those harlo’s up there. Whattaya say we take ‘im for a spin.” Evil possibly gay cowboy henchman number 2 said.

“Hey, I am not gay. No fucking homo. Goddamit 1950s, why do your cowboy costumes have to be so gay? I ain’t no queer or ‘sodomizer’!” Marty McFly was so done with this shit.

“Now holdup sweet thang. You don’t have to say one more word. Buford here’ll decide your fate. Personally I hope to keep ya.” Evil certainly gay cowboy henchman number 3 lightly slapped Marty’s face. “Y’all are much too pretty t’ be a dead man,” he leered.

“I think you are all just sexually confused and frustrated guys who will definitely eventually give each other AIDS one day. And hey, did you say Buford? As in Buford ‘Mad Dog’ Tannen?”

Mad Dog hissed and everyone in the saloon hid. “I. Hate. That. Name. For that I’ma ride you like a dog. S’all about establishin’ that you’re stronger’n the other guy, which won’t be too hard, eh runt?”

Marty gulped and reached for the first alcoholic drink he’d ever been served, downing it in one gulp. It burned as it went down, but the liquid courage lived up to its name.

“J-just leave me alone you gay cowboys. Geez,” he said and tried to run away. Instantly he had four guns in his face. “Dance li’l runt,” Buford said and shot at Marty’s feet.

“Technically that’s redundant,” Marty whined while jumping and ducking. He decided to actually dance, distracting the men who were now salivating at his moves.

“This one’ll be great in bed,” definitely gay said.

“He ain’t a woman but he’s breathin’ an’ well-groomed,” said henchman number 1.

“After him!” yelled Buford. Indeed, Marty had used the dancing to sneak away and ran out of the saloon, short legs taking him as far away as possible. 5’4 isn’t short. It’s not!

The evil gay cowboys jumped onto their horses (not a euphemism) and rode after Marty, who was eventually captured by a lasso.

“Well lookee here. We’ve caught ourselves an appetizer. Now y’all better not get that pretty lil’ outfit’a yours dirty boy. Now stand up an’ walk behind us or we will make y’ regret it.”

Marty stood up and ran behind the horse, too terrified to even stumble.

They trotted/walked for hours before coming across a big ranch with a mansion that almost bled money.

“Please let me go,” Marty huffed. “I’m gonna pass out man.”

He was led to the stables where the horses were tied up and Buford still did not let go of the dumb lasso.

The evil gay cowboys then laid him on the stable floor and started tying his legs to some posts.

“Wait, wait! You got me, I am a prostitute. Now if you tie me up and use me you might feel as good as a horsefucker. But if you let me do my thing, you’ll have a more willing partner who will make you feel good.” Damn his dumbass mouth. At least he’d have some semblance of control if they listened, but how would he be able to tell it was rape in the future-his future-if he was initiating?

The gay cowboys looked at each other and then at Buford. “Ya bring up some good points. Displease us an’ we’ll go back t’ this. I must say, I ain’t neva seen a male prostitute before, but mah expectashins are th’ same.”

They brought him into the house, still in that damn lasso. There was a room with a vintage looking bed that was huge for the 1850s. Marty climbed onto it and noticed the cowboys holding some rope menacingly. He gulped.

“So, a-uh-a few standard procedures before we begin. One: we limit this uh sex party to the house, not the barn or stables. Two: we have some kind of lubricant and protection-”

“-Protecshin? Ah’ve got protecshin right here,” one of the confused henchmen said and held up his gun.

Marty remembered the magical immunity pill Doc made him take in 2015 that would protect him from any disease past, present, and future from his base line time (1985).

“Uh nevermind. About that lubricant though….” He trailed off, questioning.

“What kinda whore don’t carry supplies with ‘er? Th’ only lubricant in this house is water ‘n saliva. We’d love for you t’use saliva,” probably gay said, stroking Marty’s cheek.

“Right, okay. I’m a little new at this, got a family to feed, sorry.” He ducked from the man’s gaze.

“Git started boi or ah’ll tie you t’ the bedposts and fuck you dry.”

Marty sighed and got to work, remembering his alternative. He hummed a sexy tune and started dancing, the pelvic moves of the 1980s a sight for the cowboys. Gaining more confidence, he started to sing.

“I’m bringing sexy back. Yeah. Them motherfuckers don’t know how to act. Yeah…dirty babe. You see these shackles baby I’m your slave,” he gestured to the rope and pretended to tie it around his neck. “I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave,” he grabbed Tannen’s whip and playfully tapped it against his ass. “It’s just that no-one makes me feel this way.”

The men watched as he slowly stripped out of his very pink outfit and tossed it on Definitely Gay, humming the chorus.

“Ah thought you said ya’ll was new t’this. Where’d ya learn t’do that?” Probably Gay’s eyes were wide with wonderment.

“The internet. Spent a lot of time in 2015, hence Justin Timberlake.” They all looked at him confused and he gave a sexy smirk, resuming his singing-dancing-stripping routine.

Once he was naked, he had to let the men touch his body.

“Such smooth supple skin,” Hench no 1 said as he rubbed his hands up Marty’s back. Marty leaned into the touch and moaned as he’d seen girls do in the adult theater back home. He felt more hands caress him and imagined he was at home with a bunch of girls. Suddenly he was painfully hard and he could feel how hard the other men were as he clumsily rubbed up against them, grinding on their crotches. His breathing slowed and his face turned red. He then felt himself being picked up and moved away from his little pre-orgy.

“Hey, what gives?” he asked.

It was Buford who looked exactly like Biff up close, Marty noticed.

“Ah’m takin’ ‘im first. Ya’ll can have him after me.” Marty’s heart pounded with fear and…anticipation?

“Now make like a forest and g’t!” He bellowed. His henchmen left the room disappointedly.

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#back to the future #gay #consent issues #should i finish this?#fanfiction #incomplete

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