#when stevie called fine line his rumours...yeah. and to me fine line is his red. the mastery of it. the depth of emotional highs and lows.

[septembersghost]

Yesterday I listened to fine line from top to bottom to celebrate her birthday and I am once again pissed at grammys for snubbing her. Like FL was one of the best albums in 2019-20 and it deserved a nomination for AOTY(we know nothing could beat folklore but FL deserved to be on the list). I don't know how it only got 1 Grammy like........a lot of people found solace in her and she deserved big 4 nominations .

our vibes are so aligned, i listened to it from top to bottom yesterday too! many of the songs are really never out of rotation, but it had been a bit since i'd listened to the album all the way through, and yet again i was struck by what a brilliant record it is. just perfectly crafted from top to bottom; depicts a whole emotional journey; meaningful/insightful lyricism along with the complete bops; rich, quirky, interesting instrumentation/production (the glockenspiel in golden! the submarine and the bass in adore you! the horns in ws! the gospel choir in lights up! the harmonies in cherry! the piano line in falling! the cello in tbsl and when he blows out the match! the dulcimer he learned to play for canyon moon! i could go on!); impeccable vocals. my mom and i were talking about falling and how affecting it still is last week (and how beautiful, especially on headphones), and honestly it's true of fine line as a whole. to begin with golden, which is actual sunshine captured in music, to close with fine line being such a powerful track, both aching and cathartic. the way we'll be alright ended up carrying so many of us.

something i noticed looking at some posts/tweets for fine line yesterday was exactly what you said - so many people found solace in that record, it's like it created a safe, comforting place for us to go and spend some time when the world was heavy. as much as i can't imagine getting through 2020 without folklore, i can't without fine line either (and fine line was already really important to me, even at the end of 2019, the events of 2020 just added depth to that). folklore is a masterpiece and changed the trajectory of taylor's career in some ways, and it's so defining as a piece of art and culture, but that doesn't lessen fine line's worth! i genuinely love hs3 and find it a joy to listen to, but there's something so special and meaningful in fine line. i totally agree it merited more recognition. as his career grows, i wonder if it will be re-evaluated with time, like red has been for taylor (even before red tv). (it's a little wild that its grammy award came for arguably the weakest song on the record, even though it was the most popular. and i am by no means against watermelon sugar, i love it, but! the album is much more than that). the grammys are inexplicable and very political at times, and there's not necessarily rhyme or reason to what they decide is "deserving," as cool as it is to see our faves be nominated/win, the ultimate arbiters of how valuable any music is comes down to what it meant and continues to mean to us. that's the thing i think harry is aware of too, and why he celebrates it with us (the album is yours, i am yours; i love you every day, but especially today; pink and blue forever!), because he realizes how dear it is and that it was a real light amidst a lot of uncertainty and darkness. i'll never forget that.

#harry styles #fine line #i have thoughts about this but i don't want to derail the discussion in the reply itself so i shall tag essay it: #when stevie called fine line his rumours...yeah. and to me fine line is his red. the mastery of it. the depth of emotional highs and lows. #the gorgeous production. the fusion of many genres. #fine line crosses from sparkling pop with r&b influence to 70s rock inspiration to laurel canyon singer songwriter #it captures many different facets of love and self reflection and confessionals #it maps out a story from euphoric to heartbroken to healing #and then hs3 serves as his 1989 pivot. much more pure glistening pop less incisive but more palatable lyrics #massive breakout hit that's absolutely everywhere. new heights of popularity that sadly come with a bit of a downside #a bunch of awards and accolades and critical acclaim in the wake of the previous more intimate record being somewhat overlooked #the mirrors between that are so interesting to me #(adore you is his most perfect pop song like style is taylor's though which is why they match together so flawlessly) #anyway yes anon it's such a gem and i cherish it always #also love how you called fine line 'she' here that's so true she's my confidante she's my sunshine she's one of my best friends #she's so golden she's my strawberry lipstick state of mind my sunflower my sky never looked so blue my sunshine my temptress #she lives in daydreams with me #anonymous #letterbox

[slashscowboyboots]

The Stars Are a Part of Us: Popcorn and Chamomile Tea (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @warrendemachokeme @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers @i-wont-be-caged​

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence.  18+ ONLY

Another woefully underrated band: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGkF5OYGynE 

Their album “Fruit of Life” is sooo killer

Steven had been distraught over Absinthe’s departure, a beaten sadness replacing his normal sunny radiance, and although Karen had reassured him her friend was never far from the nest, he’d latched onto Izzy, sleeping in the seat next to him and seldom leaving his side during the never-ending bus ride towards Calgary.

Steven pounded a tattoo on the seat in front of him with his hands.  “You remember that girl that blew us outside of Gardner studio, Izz?”

“Yeah.”

“I came all over her face.”

Izzy chuckled.  “Yeah, you did.”

“She knew her way around a cock.  Or two.”  He laughed, then said, “I miss you, dude.”

“Stevie, I’m right here.”

“I know.  But I miss partying with you.”

“You know I can’t party anymore.”

“Yeah.  But you’re like a ghost now.  You’re just, like, always moving away.  You can still have fun, can’t you?  That’s not illegal?”

“Well, no.”

“I mean,” Steven whispered, “you’re not married to that Donna chick, right?  I saw you leave with her last night.”

“Karen.  And no, I’m not.”

“See, there you go.  We’ll get a chick and hang out with her and it’ll be just like old times.”

Izzy smiled, leaning over and ruffling Steven’s blonde hair.  “Sure, Popcorn, that’ll be fun.”

Izzy knew Steven hadn’t imbibed any coke on the bus trip, he’d never left his sight, but he was still bouncing off the walls of the hotel even before Izzy had unlocked their room.

“This is so cool, Izz, us hanging out.  I think Slash and Duff are mad at me anyway.  Axl always is.”

“Why are Slash and Duff mad at you?”

Steven giggled.  “My chick was really loud.   Total screamer.  She’d go all night too, she was like a fucking beast.  Do you know why she left?   Did that Donna girl tell you?”

Izzy sighed, not wanting to tell Steven Absinthe chased greener pastures, where the hotels always had hot water and nobody ate off a cold cut platter backstage.  “Uh, she said Absinthe knew one of the girls traveling with The Cult and she wanted to hang out with her.  She’ll come back.”

“I hope so, she was fucking amazing.  Hey, Izz, you think there’s hookers in the phone book?”

“I don’t know, buddy.  I’m going to take a shower.  I realized today how fucking rank Duff smells and thought it was me at first.”

“Yeah, he promised Mandy he wouldn’t change his leather pants the entire tour.  And it smells like he’s keeping his word.” 

In the bathroom, Izzy stripped his own black leather pants off and pulled the lining out, then filled the sink up with water and a little soap.  Duff had taken his breath when he sat across from him at breakfast, and Izzy’d tucked his McMuffin in his coat to eat on the bus, away from the stench.  He shook the excess water out of the fabric, then laid his pants on the toilet and stepped into the shower.

The water pressure was laughable at best, but he even scrubbed and rinsed his hair.  Living in the Gardner place without running water had gotten him used to going without bathing for a week or more, but since he’d gotten sober, normal things like showering were becoming more of a priority, and Fran had announced at their first meeting that she considered cleanliness above godliness.  

“Not bathing is a sign of depression, Izzy, and if you’re depressed I’ll have the court psychiatrist assigned to you.  But your funky ass is not going to stink up my office, now or ever.”

He’d found a doctor’s office near the hotel, and he planned on visiting it first thing in the morning to get his first international piss test out of the way.  Dammit, he realized, he really did want to make Fran proud.  And he’d been able to turn down drugs, even after he’d had his dick sucked by a groupie.  This tour was going to be a piece of cake.

Izzy toweled off the mirror and shaved, then dug through his bag and found some clean clothes.  He hung his wet pants over the shower rod, then zipped his boots back on.  He could hear noise coming from the room and figured Steven had switched on the television, then he turned the door handle to find Steven naked and plowing into a dark-headed chick from behind on his bed, her huge tits bouncing as she moaned and cried, and a shapely blonde wearing a spandex minidress sitting on Izzy's bed.  She crooked a finger at him, and he huffed a quiet laugh as he sat down in front of her.

Steven crowed, “They were in the phone book!  I got one for each of us, dude!”

“Thanks, man,” Izzy muttered, watching as the blonde peeled down the top of her dress, setting two very perky and unnaturally round tits free.  

“Like what you see, honey?” she purred.

Izzy nodded, fleetingly wondering how they were going to pay for all this, then lost his train of thought as she pulled her dress over her head and reached for him.

He leaned forward and kissed one breast, then she pushed him back and reached for her bag on the nightstand.  “I’m going to blow your mind,” she cooed, and he closed his eyes and gasped as she worked his crotch with one hand, then she used the other to open a vial of cocaine and smear it on her other breast.  She grabbed the back of Izzy’s head, slamming his face in the coke and rubbing his nose in it.  With everything he had, he jerked out of her grasp with a bellow and leapt to the bathroom, holding his breath and frantically washing off every trace of powder he could see, scrubbing frantically until his face was red and his nostrils felt raw.  

He grabbed his bag and flew down the hall, racing down the stairs, and when he reached room 317, he pounded on the door.

“Karen, open up,” he demanded.

He heard the lock turn, then she opened the door.  “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

He pushed past her and shot into the bathroom, peering at himself in the mirror, then blowing his nose on a handful of toilet paper. 

She stood in the doorway, her hair wet, clad in an oversized jersey and short shorts with her hands on her hips and asked, “What the hell is going on?”

“A hooker shoved my face in some blow.  And I have to take a piss test tomorrow.”

“Oh, Izzy,” she said quietly.  “Here, here, sit,” putting down the lid on the toilet.

He sat down and she took his face in her hands, tilting it this way toward the overhead light, then that.  “I think you got it all.”

“Could you-maybe?” he blurted, and she nodded, running a washcloth under the faucet and gently wiping his nose, then his chin, and cheeks.  She stroked his forehead and eyebrows with it, and when she wiped under his chin and onto his neck, he began to relax.  

“Do you want to take a shower?” she asked gently, and he shook his head.  The skittery, jumping feeling he had inside was still there, but now he felt too exhausted to stand, and he was suddenly overcome by a desire to lay his head against her breasts and wrap his arms around her waist.

“Did you get your hands too?” she asked, then pulled them up in hers and rubbed the washrag against them.  Izzy watched her as she worked, carefully going over his fingertips, and her eyes met his and held them, her chest rising and falling.  

She was so close to him he could feel her body heat rising from her, and he smelled her comforting scent on his hands and in the still-humid bathroom.  He began to feel lightheaded and heavy at the same time, his wide eyes never leaving hers, his breathing becoming shallower as his neck grew hot, then she stepped back and softly said, “I-I think you’re good.”

She came back and ran water into a small pot, then went back into the other room.  “Um, I’m going to make you some tea,” she called, and he came out, smiling as he watched her fiddle with a mini Mr. Coffee machine.  “It’ll-it’ll calm your nerves.”

He sat down in a chair and smiled up at her.  “You travel with that?”

“Of course.  I can’t live without tea.”

“What kind settles my nerves?”

“Chamomile.  It probably wouldn’t hurt to pound liquids tonight, so you flush out your system.  I’m even not going to ask how this happened.”

“Steven’s been lonely since Absinthe left him, and he let his fingers do the walking.”

“Yeah, I heard him say he missed you.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Was not.  That bus is only so big.  Speaking of which, who’s going to tell Duff he smells like the ass end of a dead yak?”

“Not me.  This is some kind of engagement promise he made to not change his pants.”

“Hoss, y’all don’t want me to intervene.  I’ll strip him when he’s passed out drunk and he’ll be naked all the way to Saskatoon.”  She poured him a mug.  “Take sugar?”

“No.  You make it sweet with your love.”

“Oh, shit.  You can shove that right up your ass.”

He took a sip, then asked, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Stevie Nicks can’t put coke up her nose, so she puts it in her ass.”

Her face turned white, then she grabbed the mug out of his hands.  “Get out,” she gritted.

“What-?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” she shouted.

“The fuck did I do?”

Karen was near tears.  “Izzy, GET OUT!”

“I don’t have anywhere to fucking go!” he yelled.

She grabbed her giant bag, throwing it over her shoulder, screaming, “Fine!  If you won’t leave, I will!” and slammed the door.

#izzy stradlin x ofc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x ofc #guns n roses fanfic

[not-close-to-straight]

Long Distance (Chap One)(Stuckony)

Welcome to the Story! Non-powered AU here, just a love story between our three favorites!

COMPLETED MASTERLIST HERE

******************

Tony Stark was having a bad day.

Really, just the worst.

It started with ripping the sleeve of his favorite shirt as he turned a corner, because apparently it was too much to ask for no nails to be sticking out of a door jam.

How was there a nail? Why was his shirt ripped? Why had he paid out the ass for some high end contractor to leave nails sticking out?

Then a business meeting, which should have been barely more than a meet and greet with a quick signing of a new contract, disintegrated into chaos when the representatives of the German tech company took offense to… something.

Or they were annoyed about… something… or whatever.

Tony already had a headache and was barely listening, and jumped in surprise when all the shouting started.

Pepper dove right into full reconciliation mode to try and salvage it, but even her best efforts weren't enough to save it and almost a year’s worth of negotiations went right down the drain.

The Germans tore up the contract and left in a huff, muttering angrily under their breaths while Tony just stared in disbelief.

He was furious, and rightly so.

His job was to design all the tech, not sell it to the other companies, not to barter contracts, not to deal with this bullshit. That's why he had a team-- and today his team had let him down.

But it wasn't like it was Peppers fault, and really, his team had tried their hardest, so Tony just loosened his tie and opened the bar in the conference room, handing out drinks for everyone before moving on.

A speeding ticket from a motorcycle cop as he raced down the freeway trying to get home before dinner with Rhodey.

Lovely.

Traffic cops were...were… well, they were hard working civil servants who deserved his respect (as Pepper had reminded him so many times) but still the biggest pain in his ass. And expensive ones too.

A phone call from a reporter came in round four in the afternoon when he was still on the road, the brash woman on the other line asking if he cared to comment on the stories his ex girlfriend was sharing about him.

“Ex?” Tony asked with a confused frown. “What do you mean ex?”

The reporter went on to tell him that his ex- girlfriend Shawna had called them with a story about him. Something about his habits in bed and weird beauty rituals. That he demanded certain things from her, and was a selfish lover. That he had an AI that controlled his life and that he was building weapons in his lab.

Did Tony have any comment about any of it? Was there any truth to the rumours?

Tony hung up the phone without answering, and then called Pepper in a panic, but she was already on damage control, already making sure that everyone knew that Shawna was simply angry that she had been a fling and that Tony hadn't kept her around for very long.

Pepper was also making sure to tell anyone who asked that Tony hadn't even let Shawna stay overnight in their rather short relationship, so there was no way she would know anything of importance about him.

She told them that everything being built in Tony's lab was the sole property of Stark Industries, usually patent pending to the United States military and if they printed anything that even resembled information about his projects, they would be taken to court and sued for copyright infringement and anything else she could nail them with.

Pepper was the best, always putting out fires, and Tony promised her a new present-- something that involved diamonds and a day at her favorite spa for taking care of him.

Then he hung up the phone and pounded at his steering wheel.

He had really liked Shawna. She was sweet and funny and matched him snark for snark, and he was just thinking it was time to ask her to spend the night, maybe even the weekend with him.

He had been sure she would see past the money, and the Stark name and stick around for the long haul, but apparently that wasn't the case.

Tony had thought they were taking everything at a reasonable pace, and since she hadn't complained about it, that she was fine with waiting to move forward.

Apparently that hadn't been the case either, and here he was single again, on the front of a tabloid again, frustrated over the emptiness in his life again.

Thank god for dinner with Rhodey.

Except no, there was another disappointment.

“Real sorry, Tones.” Rhodey said over the voice mail. “My baby niece has a recital tonight and I missed the last one so I gotta be there tonight. Can we reschedule for next week?”

Tony was just dialing his phone to call Rhodey back and give him hell about missing dinner before asking where the recital was so he could send flowers to his favorite little niece, but then he stepped out of the elevator--

--and tripped over the edge of the carpet and fell flat on his face.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but after such a long day it was just the one final thing that broke it all, and Tony flung his phone at the wall, smiling in a grim sort of satisfaction as it broke into about a thousand pieces.

And then he cursed a blue streak because why had he destroyed his phone?

Tony rubbed at his eyes, groaning in frustration, and trekked back into the elevator to head down to the basements of the Towers, to the company stock rooms.

There was at least a thousand phones in stock down there, extra inventory for the employees of the Tower, and Tony rifled through the boxes until he found one in the bright red he preferred.

Back up in the penthouse, Tony punched in Rhodey's number from memory and started shit-texting his best friend while he poured a glass of scotch.

-- Honey bear. This whole day has been bullshit. I actually tore my shirt on a nail this morning. A nail. In my house. It's like living in a third world country.

--Thanks but no thanks to any of your smart ass comments about how i know nothing of the third world. Tearing my shirt is my equivalent of a third world and you know it.

--Rhodey seriously your niece's recital isn't a valid reason for skipping out on our dinner together. Date nights are to be taken seriously and you skipping this one is completely unforgivable.

--But still, I'll send her some flowers because I'm sure she did wonderful.

--Hey do you remember that time in MIT where I stole everyone’s towels on our floor? Why don't we pull pranks like that any more?

--Oh no I remember. Because you’re boring and I'm thirty.

-- You need to text me back, I know you hear your obnoxious ring tone. I know you’re a Lieutenant Colonel and all that, but no one actually needs Born in the USA for a ring tone. Nobody is that patriotic

--Are you ever gonna ask Pepper out? Think our favorite redhead needs a date. She is wound TIGHT lately, if you know what I mean.

--Rhodey I swear to god if you don't start texting me back right now….

--I'm gonna drink this whole bottle of scotch and drunk text you the entire time. Text me back now and take preventative measures. Not too late for you to swing by for dinner. Is it going to be a whole month before I see you again? I feel like you only come by for work reasons Rhodey, is that anyway to treat your wife?

--really? Nothing to the wife comment? Tough crowd.

*******************

“Stevie, who the hell is texting you at two am?” Bucky complained and shoved at his boyfriends shoulder. “Wake up and turn your phone off.”

“Sorry.” Steve sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes, squinting at the screen of his phone as it lit up repeatedly, the shrill ring tone destroying the usual quiet of their bedroom. “It's a number I don't recognize. Manhattan, I think.”

“Tell them to fuck off.” Bucky grumbled and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. “We have to be awake in like three hours for a run.”

“I know babe. Let me just check and--- damn it. It's just a wrong number drunk texting.” Steve dragged his hand through his blond hair. “Some guy trying to get a hold of someone named Rhodey. Talking about missing their date night, and how Rhodey only comes around for work stuff anymore?”

“Oh, that's kind of sad.” Bucky sat up a little and frowned. “Poor guy. Missed date nights are rough.”

“Yeah, he keeps asking Rhodey to text him back. Which isn’t going to happen, because he’s actually texting me.” Steve laughed a little. “I guess I should let him know it's a wrong number.”

“Yeah, tell him it sucks to get ditched, then tell him to shut the hell up so I can sleep.”

“Easy, big guy.” Steve chuckled. “I'll let him know.”

--Hey man. Just thought I'd let you know that this is a wrong number. All 37 of your texts meant for “Rhodey” went to my number instead. Sorry to let you down, but I don't think your boyfriend knows you are mad at him.

*************

Tony blinked at his phone a few times when he received a text back from an unknown number.

“Oh damn.” he doubled checked the number. “I have definitely not been texting Rhodey all night.”

--Well this is embarrassing as hell. But you know, the polite thing to do would have been to reply at like, text four instead of letting me ramble on like I'm drunk or something.

--You did mention something about a bottle of scotch. And I just woke up because my phone wouldn't quit ringing.

--Do you have a better ring tone than Born in the USA?

--It's Big Blond and Beautiful

-- You’re kidding. From Hairspray? With Queen Latifah?

--I can't believe you knew that right away

--I can't believe you admitted it. Still better than Born in the USA. Sorry I woke you, but if you were really mad you would stop texting me instead of encouraging my rude behavior

--I guess that's fair. Sorry your boyfriend stood you up

--Not my boyfriend.

-- You said date night so I just assumed he was a boyfriend. Too bad he stood you up anyway. Maybe stop drinking and call it a night though, try texting him in the morning when you’re sober

--Thanks dad

--It's actually professor.

--Oh my.

-- So tell me professor. Is the big blond and beautiful a description as well as a ringtone?

--Well, no ones complained when they see me, at least. What about you? Blonde and beautiful?

--Brown eyed and brunette and mysterious. Not mysterious. Obnoxious. Brown eyed and brunette and obnoxious. So what do you do? Model?

--Yeah right. I teach Art History and several art classes at the university.

--Oh so you are ACTUALLY a professor. I thought that was like a weird role play thing.

--Little early in the game to be talking about that sort of thing isnt it?

-- You tell me. You're the one texting a drunk guy at 2 am

*******************

Steve laughed out loud and Bucky rolled over with a huff. “Babe, it's been half an hour, are you still talking to him?”

“Look.” Steve turned his phone so Bucky could see. “He’s funny.”

“Yeah, babe, I'm sure he's a damn comedian.” Bucky yawned and stretched, dropping a big arm around Steve's shoulders and tugging him down against his chest. “But you’re in bed with me so call it a night. Tell him you’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “I can talk to him tomorrow?”

“You know I don't care.” Bucky yawned again and held him tighter. “But I will care if you keep me awake any longer.”

“Sorry, baby.” Steve kissed him sweetly and shot off a quick text to the mysterious texter.

--I've got a class at eight am so I need to get some sleep, but can I talk to you tomorrow?

-- You want to talk to me more? What, like after class?

--Sure, my last class of the day is over at 3:45

--I was joking, professor. But alright. Let’s talk tomorrow.

--Looking forward to it. Do I get a name to go with this wrong number?

--Tony.

--Nice to meet you. I'm Steve.

-I'm putting you in my phone as Big and Blonde

-- I'm putting you in my phone as Mysterious

--Not obnoxious? You’re nicer than me for sure

--Well you know what they say, opposites attract. Blond and brunette, nice and obnoxious…

--Touche, teacher man

--Will you text me back in the morning?

--Try and stop me. are we in the same time zone?

--I'm in Boston

--Manhattan

--So no long distance charges then, right?

--Long distance charges for texting? I thought I was the drunk one

--I was trying to be funny

--Stick with being blonde

--Tomorrow, Tony

--Can't wait

Tony smiled down at his phone, and tossed it back onto the couch with a sigh.

Steve. Big and Blond. Could be fun.

***************

“You like him?” Bucky asked, rubbing his nose into Steve's hair as they curled back into the pillows together.

“Can't really tell over a text.” Steve returned, wrapping both his arms around his love. “But I mean, he's funny. And brunette.”

“And we both know funny and brunette is all it takes to get in your pants.” Bucky cracked a tired grin when Steve jabbed him in the ribs. “Easy as hell, ain't ya, Stevie?”

“You say that like you're complaining.”

“Sugar, you know damn well I'm not complaining.”

#ncts fics #stuckony #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #texting