2D + Murdoc night walks with s/o?? Where would they go, would they stop and stare at the stars w/ s/o, etc. (💗💗💗 lots of love for th blog)
(Thank you, dear!)
~ 2D loves spending time
with you. He loves doing everything with you, so when you suggest going for a
midnight walk he’s all over it. You two walk around town and see what kind of
shops are open this late. 2D spots a music store from across the street and
points like an excited child. You giggle and pull him towards the shop. You
walk in first and look around. It’s an older shop with aisles of vinyl records,
shelves of CDs, and instruments displayed on the back wall. 2D’s eyes grow wide
in amazement. He instantly starts looking for keyboards. You watch him dart
around before turning to look at some of the records. You dig through and find
some you like. You started to make a pile on the counter where the register
was. The cashier had been chuckling at you and 2D. “You folks havin’ a nice
time?” You giggled and nodded your head.
~ You looked around for
your boyfriend but you couldn’t find him. “Where did he run off to?” You
suddenly heard a keyboard playing in the back. You stepped forward and
following the sound. You found 2D sitting on the floor playing some random
notes on a black keyboard. He was so intrigued by the sound, he didn’t even
look up at you. “I’m guessing you’re really enjoying yourself?” You squatted down
to his level. 2D giggled and kissed you. “I fink I’m gonna get it!” He stood up
and pulled you to the register. You pulled out your wallet to pay for your
records but 2D put his hand over your wallet. “I got dis, love.” You jumped up
to kiss his cheek as he paid the nice man. “Have a goodnight!” You yelled as
you exited the store with 2D.
~ 2D was looking up at
the sky as you two started walking again. “2D, you’re going to end up running
into a pole or something.” You laughed at his silliness. He looked at you and
smiled. “Sorry, it’s jus’ da stars ar’ da only fing dat remin’ me of ya eyes.”
You blushed at his comment and he pulled you close. “I love ya.” He said before
kissing you with so much passion you felt your heart skip a beat.
~ Murdoc doesn’t sleep
much anyway so when you ask him to go on a midnight walk, he eagerly agrees.
You giggle and pull him out of the door. You two decide to take a walk through
the woods instead of through town. Neither of you wanted to deal with the night
life of the city. You wrapped your arm through his and snuggled closer to him.
He chuckled and pulled out a cigarette. He removed his arm from yours to light
it. He took a deep breath and took in the smoke. He puffed it out away from you
so it wouldn’t hit your face.
~ He kissed your cheek
and found a rock to sit on. Murdoc patted the spot next to him, indicating you
to sit down. You sat next to him and looked up at the sky. The mix of the trees
and the stars painted a beautiful site above you. You didn’t noticed Murdoc
staring you. He watched your features as you observed the sky. He sighed and asked,
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You looked back at him, confused. “No?” Murdoc
took another puff of smoke before speaking again. “You mean the world to me. I
never thought I’d be the one to fall in love. You’re the only who has ever shown
me how much you care. My biggest fear is showing you how much of a monster I
actually am and you running away forever. I’m not good enough for you, yet you stay.
You give my life a new meaning, one I’ve never known before. I love you more
than anything. You make me feel like I’m worth something. I can never repay you
for that.” He looked back up at your face and noticed the tears flowing down
your face. Murdoc felt bad for saying anything. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have
said anything…” He looked at the ground again and you tackled him with a hug. “Don’t
you dare be sorry! That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard you say.
Murdoc, you owe me nothing except your love. You loving me back is all I could
ask for. You make me so happy and I couldn’t image life with anyone else.” You
placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him. Now Murdoc was crying. You kissed
him again and wiped away his tears. “I will always love you.” He whispered as he
wrapped his arms around you.
He should thank Liam, he knew it. He wouldn’t need to leave
the flat, minus the initial trip to the market, for days. There were enough
books, along with wine and rum, to last him for weeks. And the view, Killian
still wasn’t sure there were words.
Good god, brother. The
pictures you sent weren’t enough.
I know. Don’t skulk
your entire stay. The city is better up close.
Killian rolled his eyes. He was almost grateful when he
found out his brother would be out of town when he sent his plea for a place to
crash. He needed to be away from Tink, away from town, their apartment. From everything,
really. And while he hadn’t seen Liam since his transfer to Istanbul, the
prospect of the judgement in his eyes, even as he would welcome him in, was
more than Killian thought he could bear.
Liam sent him instructions on where he could pick up a set
of keys and a warning that he promised a friend a place to stay later in the
week while she was in town for a job.
And stay as long as
you like, little brother. I’m due home in a couple weeks.
When Prince’s first greatest hits collection was released, Prince made private comments as a guide for the liner notes. Later briefly posted on his website thedawn.com in 1996, Prince’s comments have been lost for the last 20 years, but now provide a rare first-person insight into how he saw some of his most famous songs.
In 1993, just as Prince had changed his name and began wrangling with his record contract, he agreed to his first-ever collection of greatest hits, released as a 3-disc set, The Hits/The B-sides. Prince’s longtime manager Alan Leeds wrote the liner notes for the box set; already an industry legend for his work with James Brown, Leeds had won a Grammy for his extraordinary work on the liner notes for Startime, the definitive James Brown box set released in 1991. But Leeds’ notes on Prince’s work included a number of mentions of anecdotes and inspirations that Leeds couldn’t have been privy to first-hand, and a few that only Prince himself could have known. When liner notes for The Hits were posted on thedawn.com three years later, fans were shocked to see that, rather than simply replicating Leeds’ writing, the notes on the site were clearly Prince’s own thoughts. The notes omit many tracks, include mention of songs that weren’t included in the box set at all, and include what appear to be editorial suggestions for Leeds. Prince often refers to himself as “PRN” (Prince Rogers Nelson) throughout. This was likely both reflective of his longtime habit of trying to issue his pronouncements as coming from a larger, vague collective rather than just himself, and the fact that the notes were likely captured as recited to an assistant. However, it could also have been a deliberate stylistic choice in reference to his then-recent name change; at the time this was published, his public position was that “Prince” was dead.
Update: Alan Leeds himself has weighed in, on Reginald Hudlin’s Facebook page, saying he hadn’t known these notes were ever posted online, but confirming that he did use these comments from Prince to inform his work.
Interesting — I’d never seen this before and wasn’t aware P had posted these comments. For the record, I had volunteered to Warner Bros. to help assemble and sequence the 3 CDs. However, they were stuck on “their” sequence — I never knew for sure if Prince liked or was involved in the sequencing. I believe it was put together by WB’sr in-house catalogue maven, my friend Gregg Geller and I doubt he had much dialogue with Prince. However, Prince did call me to write the notes. I told him it was an honor but only if he’d answer a few questions so I could add some background that wasn’t common knowledge among fans. He agreed but asked me not to write like an interview. So I simply incorporated some of his “revelations” into my notes. When I sent him the finished notes, he called to say “thanks, nice job” and that was it. He surprisingly did zero editing.
“I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER” originally recorded as a demo 4 Patrice Rushen’s album. PRN had a mad crush on her at the time and the song is about her.
“HEAD” was only used as a concert tune. This song was picked as Lisa Coleman’s initiation into the band. Gayle Chapman quit because the material of the Dirty Mind period got 2 strong 4 her. Prince figured if Lisa could sing the lyrics to head she could handle anything. The song as a demo as was all the Dirty Mind LP.
“DO ME BABY”
the 1st time Prince turned the control room into a bedroom. Candles were lit, chiffon veils were hung and all the doors were locked.
“CONTROVERSY” write about the first time U heard reflective notes
“LITTLE RED CORVETTE” after another marathon all-night recording session PRN wrote this in the front seat of Lisa’s pink car (brand of car can be gotten from her) whom PRN drove when she was in LA. PRN always considered the song a dream because it was written between 3 or 4 catnaps and he was never fully awake.
“DIRTY MIND” Dr. Fink came up with the original keyboard line which PRN heard and wrote lyrics 2 that same night. PRN and Dr. Fink came 2 rehearsal the next day proud of their creation. The band flipped when they heard it. The centerpiece was in place.
“WHEN DOVES CRY” originally recorded with bass, backing 2 sets of keys and guitar. Frustrated with the mix, PRN sat discouraged in the studio (Sunset Sound). Jill Jones came 2 visit, saw the long face and asked what was wrong. PRN was said to have said, “if. had my way the song would sound like this.” He then shoved down the bulk of the instrument faders and left up only the drums and the xylophone, when the voices began to sing the chorus. Jill then asked PRN why he thought he couldn’t have his way with the mix. There was no reply. Everyone who passed by the studio was enthralled by the strange sound coming out of Studio 3 that day. The next time Jill heard the song it was on the radio and it was bassless and stark. PRN had his way.
“KISS” PRN after recording this shelved it because he thought it 2 strange a production 4 human consumption. It was included in the Parade album was an afterthought. PRN thought it never quite worked on that album. Every time he plays it live he changes the arrangement. Probably still feels the same about the public’s acceptance of the sound. It concert it’s never sounded like the record.
“U GOT THE LOOK” a friend of PRN used 2 jump up and dance whenever Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” came on. As a test this song was recorded to find out of the friend would dance 2 a similar groove or just chill because it wasn’t a hit. Sure enough the friend didn’t like the song until it was in the Top 10.
“SEXY M.F.” the song that made PRN abandon computers just before he retired. Proof that nothing beats the feel of a live band of funky M.F.’s.
“CREAM” PRN wrote this standing in a mirror.
“DAMN U” one of the songs PRN is most proud of; he adores it. Used to play it live even fore it was released. Through the years this has been the indication of his feelings about a new composition.
“I FEEL 4 U” another demo written 4 the Patrice Rushen project. PRN tended 2 write more Top 40 when writing 4 other artists.
“WHEN U WERE MINE” written in a hotel room in North Carolina on the Rick James tour. This was not a happy period. PRN didn’t want to do this tour but he needed the exposure cuz his record was breaking R&B first. He was ready 2 headline his own tour but had 2 wait.
“UPTOWN” a favorite concert number during this period. The anthem 4 all the freaks and funkateers of the Dirty Mind generation. Vocal recorded in one take, no punching in after PRN in his 16 trackhome studio set up the song on the board, plugged in the mic, and left his leather coat on the chair. He went to get pumped at a movie and when it was over walked straight into the studio, donned the leather coat, and sang it straight out. He didn’t listen 2 it until the next day and then began finishing it.
“1999" was meant 2 be a group vocal. Lisa, Dez, and Prince actually sang the whole song every line. When Prince mixed it he made the decision 2 split up the lines. That’s why the melody keeps changing. Jill Jones 1st big vocal assignment. She does the ad libs on the vamp. Prince loved her voice. Vocally he said she was a ‘cliffdiver.’
“LET’S GO CRAZY” & “PURPLE RAIN”
“POP LIFE” the jam in the ‘hood.
“ADORE” inspired by Patti LaBelle & Luther Vandross who Prince was digging at the time. Patti — ”if only u knew”…
“SIGN O’ THE TIMES” written, recorded, and mixed in one day.
“ALPHABET STREET” Prince always called this an ‘aural cartoon.’ Recorded during the LoveSexy period.
“BATDANCE” originally a 12" 4 the song “200 BALLOONS.” This song with every sample just grew and grew. Listening 2 “200 BALLOONS” Prince commented “this sounds like it came from BATDANCE — not the other way around.”
“DIAMONDS AND PEARLS” written as a duet with Rosie Gaines. Prince vowed never 2 performs it with anyone else. As much as Prince wanted Rosie 2 go solo he hated the fact that he wouldn’t be able 2 peform one of his most prized possessions, Diamonds and Pearls, until they were 2gether again. Prince has called Rosie one of the greatest singers of all time. He most likens her 2 Ella Fitzgerald. Range, speed, and styling. Rosie’s got it all.
“7" Jevetta Steele asked Prince 4 an explanation of this song. He only smiled.
(Hi I literally started squealing in the middle of class when you replied but I’m the girl who asked if I could submit a lil’ Peter m imagine so here it is, I would love if you gave me some pointers bc I’m thinking of starting up an imagine blog soon. Hope you like it!:)) -Els xx
Stolen Records // Peter Maximoff
Peter grunted in irritation as he ran a hand through his damp platinum hair and placed his goggles firmly on his head. Having a mutation that gets you anywhere in a matter of seconds sure did have it’s perks, but the downside was that Peter got absolutely soaked if it was raining on his weekly trip to his favourite place on Earth.
He sighed as he scanned the old fashioned record store that he had visited every Sunday night since he was 11 years old before sauntering over to the corner of the store where an old rusty sign hung on the wall read ‘rock and punk.’ If you had never visited the store before, you wouldn’t have been able to make out exactly what the battered sign read. but Peter knew this shop like the back of his hand and had been stealing old records from it for years.
He ran his fingers over the countless records lined upon shelves and in boxes as he scuffed his silver boots against the ugly brown flooring that only made the shop look more authentic, humming along to the pop song that was quietly playing in the background. He looked towards the cashier desk at the other end of the room to find it vacant. God, they were practically asking for him to steal from them.
Peter smiled as he came across a shelf labelled ‘Pink Floyd,’ picking up a record that looked unfamiliar to him and studying the front cover, admiring the artwork for a moment until he heard a loud crashing coming from a few isles away. Suddenly, a girl with y/h/c hair popped up from the metal and country isle, cursing loudly and running a hair through her hair.
It was like Peter was in a trance, he had never came across anyone quite as captivating as you and was immediately mesmerised the moment your eyes met his before you quickly looked away and began picking up the records that were scattered on the floor.
He smirked, tucking the record under his jacket and sped over to you. the lanky teenager leaned on one of the shelves and crossed his arms, taking in your appearance and biting the pink skin of his bottom lip. You weren’t even wearing anything particularly fancy, just a pair of baggy jeans with more rips than he could count and a black shirt tucked into them, the name of the store plastered on the front of it in bold letters.
‘You gonna help me out here or just stand there checking me out, silver boy?’ You looked up at him from your spot on the floor as you placed the dropped records in their correct shelves. Peter smirked at your nickname for him and kneeled on the floor next to you, picking up a few records and arranging them in alphabetical order before placing them on the shelves.
'I haven’t seen you around here before, you new? I’m Peter, Peter Maximoff.’ He smiled, extending his long pale arm, you shook his hand before turning back to the shelves. You were smaller up close, but no less beautiful, he thought.
'I’m an intern.’ You paused for a moment, 'You gonna pay for that, Mr. Maximoff?’ You asked, motioning to the record that was slightly peaking out from under his jacket, Peter blushed for a moment before gaining his composure.
You stood up and brushed the dust from your jeans and sighed 'Well, Peter. I’m Y/n and you can leave now, I can handle this on my own, but thanks for the help. And put the record back unless you’re going to pay for it.’
The silver haired boy frowned, trying to think of a way that he could see you again. He didn’t think he could stand the thought of only being able to see you once a week when he zoomed in to get his records, He had only known you for a few solid minutes and he was already a goner.
'I’ll tell you what, I’ll buy the record. But on one condition.’ He said walking towards you, he almost looked intimidating, his tall lean frame towering over you. Almost. 'Come on a date with me,’ he breathed out, it was almost as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
'What if I don’t want to come on a date with you? I could outrun you, you know.’
'Sweets, I really don’t think you could.’ He snickered, as if he knew something you didn’t, you screwed your face up at his cockiness.
You thought for a moment, debating whether to agree to Peter’s proposition, 'Ugh, fine! One date, but that’s it.’ You sighed, deciding that you didn’t want to get fired when you had only had this job for a few weeks, and besides, Peter wasn’t that bad looking, but you’d never admit that to him. He seemed like he had a big enough ego. You pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from your pocket and began scribbling down your number before handing it to him.
'Thanks, babe. I’ll see you soon’ He winked and pushed his hair back before throwing you a 10 dollar bill and a goofy grin, and just like that, he was gone.
i don’t know!! but i hope it ends up at the center of a vinyl record, on shelves of fresh shrink-wrapped CDs to be found at your local music store, on heaps of digital content, on t-shirts and mugs and pencil cases and lunchboxes and reasonably priced sweatshirts..and i’m flexible on what price is reasonable
J. Cole, the Platinum Rap Dissident, Steps Back From the Spotlight
RALEIGH, N.C. — Ask J. Cole about when he realized that the traditional life of a platinum rap star didn’t suit him and he’ll tell the story of the 2013 BET Awards, when a stylist dressed him in a loud Versace sweater that two other people ended up wearing on the red carpet. He’ll talk about meetings with label executives and personal heroes who encouraged him to make musical decisions that, deep down, he never felt comfortable with. He’ll recall an awakening to the potency of the love of the woman he’d been with for years. And he’ll remember his trip in the wake of the killing of Michael Brown to Ferguson, Mo., where the most valuable thing he found he could do was just to listen.
And so, a couple of years ago, after he’d released two platinum albums, he began to make changes. A move back down to this part of the country, not far from where he grew up, in Fayetteville. Meditation every day, or as often as he could manage. Marriage. A commitment to asking about the needs of others rather than only his own. And a decision to make music that spoke to his own creative and emotional idiosyncrasies, no matter how far it strayed from that of his hip-hop superstar generational peers.
On this day in music history: June 13, 1970 - “Let It Be”, the twelfth studio album by The Beatles hits #1 on the Billboard Top 200 for 4 weeks. Produced by George Martin and Phil Spector, it is recorded at Apple Studios, Abbey Road, and Twickenham Film Studios in London from February 1968, January – February 1969, January and March – April 1970. Following the often acrimonious sessions for “The White Album” in 1968, the album is originally conceived as a project that documents the band working in the studio, recording in as basic of a way as possible, without overdubbing, and outside musicians. With the ultimate goal of The Beatles performing live again in front of an audience. Unfortunately the bad feelings and arguing that started during the previous album intensifies, with George Harrison walking out eight days into the sessions. Eventually he does return, but things are still tense between the four. The album and accompanying film shot during the recording sessions are shelved for nearly a year before the decision is made to release them. Producer Phil Spector is given carte blanche to work with the hours and hours tapes to shape them into a releasable album. However, it strays far from its original concept. In the UK and Canada, the album is also issued as a lavish limited edition box set featuring a full color picture book with photos by photographer Ethan Russell. Originally released on CD in 1987, it is remastered and reissued in 2009, and as a 180 gram vinyl LP in 2012. “Let It Be” is certified 4x Platinum in the US by the RIAA.
Hello babybaby! I want to make a cute request with Daryl ! I was wondering one which Y/N find some cd’s on a old store and when she come back and her take a shower and get comfy … she put some good (old-dancy) music .. like Suspicious Mind by Elvis for example and she and D start to dance and is so cute and fluffy .. and then someone (Maggie for example) pass through our house and she can see us thru the window and take a pic with a Polaroid and .. yeah I just would love that haha 💘
I hope you like it! 💕
You walked through the aisles of the old store you had found. Rick wanted you to find something interesting unlike all those times in the past when you were only focused on finding food and water. This time was different, so you were looking for something interesting in other places.
This was an old record store; the shelves were dusty and most of the cd’s were still there, no one had taken them because they weren’t very useful these days. You started reading the tags on the packages of the cd’s, wondering what kind of music would be more ‘interesting’, but you figured it would be better to take a bunch of them and let the others decide themselves.
You tucked at least six of them into your backpack and got out of there.
You got back home after hours of scavenging. You opened the door of your house and found all the lights off, so you knew that Daryl hadn’t gotten home yet.
You threw your stuff to the kitchen table and noticed that you had accidentally taken one of the food bags with you and left your backpack at the pantry, you also noticed that one of the cd’s had gotten mixed up with the food. But it was late and you were tired, so you left the bag on the table and decided that you would take it to the pantry in the morning, after a lovely night of deserved rest.
You looked down at the cd and grabbed it. You stared at it as you tried to remember when was the last time you had actually listened to music. It had been a long time, that’s all you knew. So you took it upstairs with you.
As you started the shower and waited for the water to get warm, you put the cd on a player in your room. The music was nice and the rhythm was smooth. You went to the bathroom and left the door ajar, so you could hear the music playing.
The water fell on your body and you threw your head back so it would rinse all the dirt from your face and hair. Almost unconsciously, you started moving to the beat of the music, and humming as you ran the little pink bar of soap down your body. The shower itself was relaxing, the closest you could get to a spa day lately, and the music on top of that was soothing. But after over half an hour of being under that warm waterfall, you knew it was time to get out, so you reluctantly turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around your body.
When you went out, you found Daryl laying on the bed. He had his feet up and his head on a pillow, he was chewing on some cold hard thing that he probably found in the fridge.
“How was your shower?”, he asked with his eyes on you. You sighed, wishing you had stayed in there.
“Great”, you answered and opened a drawer. He laughed lowly as the song that had been playing started fading to silence, and Daryl watched you as you put some comfortable clothes on.
As you slid a loose grey shirt on, the next song started playing. It was a classic song, the beat was catchy at first and then the unmistakable voice of Elvis started to come out from the speakers.
Daryl got up from the bed and stood in front of you, he took your hand and pulled you close.
“What are you doing?”, you asked with a strange look between laughs.
“Dancing”, he said and you arched an eyebrow. “Or trying to.”
You laughed again, but you let him guide you through the song. Daryl started laughing too, he dropped his head to the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply, then you felt his breath tickling your skin as he exhaled. His lips grazed your neck softly and you smiled as you closed your eyes and just listened to the song.
His hands were on your hips, holding you softly but possessively, leading you as the song keep playing. His lips were still on your neck and you felt him mouthing every word in the song, tickling your skin. You giggled and shook him off, when he lifted his face, you took your hands off his shoulders and placed them on either side of his face.
“I love you too much, baby”, Elvis and you said in one voice. Daryl smiled and lowered his face again, his lips crashed against yours but he took them off almost instantly so you could keep dancing.
Maggie had been organising the things you had brought that day, she noticed that you had left your backpack at the pantry, so she was bringing it back to you.
She was walking down the street when she noticed that the light in your room was on and that the drapes were open. She looked up and saw you two dancing, she was smiling but she suddenly found herself feeling a little sad.
Seeing you dancing and holding each other reminded her of Glenn. She closed her eyes for a moment, then she blinked several times to brush the tears away with her lashes.
She opened your backpack and found a polaroid camera there. She looked at the window through the lens and pressed the button. When the picture came out and the little white square turned into the image of Daryl and you, Maggie exhale sharply. She remembered Glenn had taken one of those of her sleeping, but she didn’t have it anymore.
But, even if thinking of those things made her sad, she found a little bit of joy in seeing that you two were together.
The next morning, you woke up to the soft sound of music. You hadn’t turned the cd player off before going to bed. You grunted as you smacked Daryl’s back to wake him up.
“Turn that off”, you told him without even opening your eyes. He grunted as well and rubbed his eyes before getting on his feet.
“It’s time to go, anyway”, he said with a sleepy voice and turned the music off.
“Okay”, you mumbled on kicked the covers off.
You changed your clothes and washed your face, you tied your hair and ran downstairs to have some breakfast before going on with everyday’s routine.
“Did you leave something on the door?”, Daryl asked you as he took a bite of an apple. You frowned at what he said.
“There’s something on the door”, he said.
You wondered what it was, it’s not like you were getting mail nowadays, so it was strange to you.
You walked towards the door and found two little pieces of paper. You picked them up; one of them was a note, it read:
I left your backpack at the doorway,
And the other one was a polaroid picture. You watched it intently. It was a dark picture with just a little square of light in which you were dancing with Daryl. Somehow, it made you think of the dark world that you were living in, but you could always find a little bit of light in Daryl.
Filling the prompt “Can you do one where you and Van are close friends and you always hang out after school and cuddle and stuff and he admits his feelings for you?? thank you!”
You hadn’t really been friends with Van when he was still in school. You were in the same year level, but you never noticed him except for the moments where he’d be off task in class and a teacher would ask him if there was something more important than his education. There always was. There was always something he cared more about. A new song. A show on the weekend. Finding a drummer for his band. His new puppy. You’d always chuckle under your breath at the chaos he caused.
You became friends on the day that would be the catalyst for him dropping out. It was a Friday, and you had English after lunch. Honestly, you were surprised he was even in class; he would frequently skip. The teacher was having everyone analyse poetry. You loved English, and you loved poetry. You started to flick through your own copy of Howl and Other Poems. You made eye contact with Van briefly as he was searching through his bag for something. He gave you a smile, and you smiled back and quickly looked away. He pulled out headphones and started to listen to something, tapping the beat out on his desk with pencils. The teacher was on him instantly, ripping the headphones off his head.
Thank you all for the welcome back to the fanfic world of call the Midwife!! I’m still oiling the rusty gears in my brain, but hope posting this will light the fire under me to finish the last part. then it’ll all go up on my WordPress blog. Thanks to @the-old-bird-rockbird for her Cockney guidance.
Anyway, Patrick has a bit of a mystery to solve if he’s going to find out what’s making Shelagh blush so…
I Believe This May Call for a Proper Introduction (Part One)
Title: I Believe This May Call for a Proper Introduction
Summary: You’re working at a record store, when some guy who won’t take off his sunglasses comes in, browses through the entire store, then leaves without buying a single thing. Rinse and repeat.
You’re going to kill them. That’s it, it’s that simple. You’re going to kill them, and you’re going to go to jail, and you can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.
It’s not that you hate hipsters or anything. That’s not it at all. You’ve never been a music purist, never thought, hey, this album is new, it shouldn’t be on vinyl, because yes it should. Everything should be on vinyl, vinyl sounds really cool.
The problem with the pair of teens in the corner is that they’re not /buying/ anything. And you wouldn’t mind that either, because Lord knows you’ve gone to your fair share of stores to browse and not buy anything. But not only are these two not buying anything, they’re laughing loudly and making noise and you’ve already had three customers walk in, take one look at them, and walk out. But you aren’t allowed to ask that they leave, even if you do it respectfully, even if they’ve been there an hour and are doing nothing more than driving customers away. They’re stuck there, and you’re stuck behind the counter chewing your gum that’s long since lost its flavor and cursing the owner of the tiny record store as loudly as you can in your head.
The bell above the door rings, and you know it’s not because the two teenagers have left, because they’re still being obnoxious in the corner. You wait for the bell to ring, for whoever it is to turn around and walk back out, but they don’t. You look up, interest officially piqued by this newcomer, and almost give up on him being any better.
You try not to judge people without getting to know them. It’s just not the kind of person you are. But this guy is wearing skinny jeans, a shirt for a band that not even you have heard of, and a leather jacket. Plus, he doesn’t bother to take his sunglasses off. He just leaves them on as he flicks through the records.
The problem with vinyls, you think idly, is that the most ample supply is the newest music, because nobody wants to part with the old ones. And someone dressed like the douchiest brand of hipster is not about to want one of the mainstream records that you’ve got plenty of. The apparent boredom on the part of his face you can see confirms this, so if you wrote it down you’d have scientific proof.
You don’t watch him as he moves through the aisles. You don’t. You’re making a point of it. You’ve got your eyes locked on the pages of your comic, and you don’t care if he buys anything. Don’t care if the two in the corner buy anything. You’ve given up caring about anything going on in this store.
“Hey, man, fuck off,” one of the teens in the corner snaps suddenly. Shades has made his way over to them, and is still flipping through records, the same bored expression on his face, but the Tweedles have matching looks of anger on theirs. You silently root for Shades, because if he pisses the Tweedles off enough then they’ll leave and you can maybe salvage your commission for the day.
Shades says something in response, but he’s too soft-spoken for you to catch it. Whatever it is, it makes the Tweedles even angrier, before one of them takes the other’s arm and they stalk out of the shop, bell twinkling merrily after them. The juxtaposition makes you want to laugh.
Shades resumes his slow meandering through the shelves, and you return your attention to your book. You could (should) probably be using your free time to do some of your coursework; you’ve got a midterm in two weeks for a class in which, in spite of your best efforts (really), everything just goes straight over your head. But you kind of, sort of, have an illicit love affair with BPRD Hell on Earth, and that’s much more important than a midterm for a class you’re almost certainly going to fail.
Towards the end of the chapter, Shades comes to stand in front of you on the other side of the counter. He’s empty-handed, but since he got the Tweedles to leave, you’re not going to be upset about it. You do wonder what he’s at the counter for, though.
“Can I help you find anything?” you ask, because that’s what you’ve been told to do when a customer’s standing in front of you.
“How often do you get new shipments in?” he asks, a sort of haughty tone to his voice. Like he thinks this place is beneath him because he didn’t find what he wanted.
“New music comes in with distribution, but most of our out-of-print selections are secondhand.” It’s a rehearsed answer, but the response it gets is always different.
This time, Shades just sighs, as if he had known better than to expect anything else. He turns and leaves without another word. You don’t stare at his ass as he walks out, and you certainly don’t note that it’s quite nice. Far nicer than the guy it belongs to.
It’s a couple weeks before you see Shades again. You failed your midterm, not that you expected any different. You’re talking to a teenaged girl, with a shock of bright green hair, looking through the box of records she brought in with her, when he walks through the door. He starts browsing through the nearest crate, and you ignore him.
“I can give you ten bucks for the whole box,” you tell the girl, waiting for the nearly inevitable backlash. It’s the entire Grateful Dead discography, it’s worth way more than that, what do you mean you can only give me ten?
“Dude, take them,” she says surprisingly. “I don’t want them.”
You blink in shock, but don’t push it any further. Free records are free records, and you’re not going to argue about free records.
She’s gone almost immediately, before you can even say /thanks/. You take hold of the crate so you can move it into the back when Shades is at the counter.
“Anything good?” he asks, peering into the box.
“Come back in a couple days to find out,” you say, pulling the box off the counter. “We’ve got to make sure they’re sellable.”
His mouth pulls into a small frown, and you find yourself wishing that he’d take off those stupid sunglasses so you could see the rest of his face. It probably looks just as annoyed as the lower part of his face.
You go into the back room and set the records down on the table. You then decide that you’ll go ahead and grab a can of (favorite soda) before heading back out into the main part of the store.
Shades is, once again, methodically moving through the crates, flipping through and studying each sleeve carefully before moving on. You don’t think you’ve gotten anything new, at least not enough new that he actually needs to go through everything this carefully this go round.
Maybe he just doesn’t remember everything you had last time he was here?
You actually do ignore him this time, surreptitiously checking your Tumblr on the computer that’s technically only meant to be used for cataloguing. He leaves without another word, clearly deciding that there’s nothing in the store worth spending his money on.
“And play this one for the whole store,” the store owner says, handing you one of the new vinyls. There’s two crates full of it, whatever it is. You look at the front.
“I thought Panic wasn’t a thing anymore,” you say, staring at the top corner, proudly proclaiming Panic! at the Disco.
The owner just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. There’s been a high demand for this one, so play it so people know it’s in.” He walks out, leaving you alone with the records. You shrug, moving over to the player behind the counter and put the new record on.
Sometime around the third track, Shades comes in again. It’s been a few days since the last time; clearly, he took your advice about coming back to see if there was anything good in the girl’s donation.
(The answer was no, not really; whoever owned the records first either loved them or didn’t care about them. Either way, they were in abysmal condition.)
He stops, just inside the door, clearly listening to the music filling the store. He doesn’t hang around much longer, just turns around and walks right back out.
He’s back the next day, and you almost wonder if he’s going to leave again. He doesn’t though, just walks in and goes through the shelves with the same care that he has the past two times. You aren’t behind the counter this time; you’re on the floor, shelving the records you got in yesterday that you hadn’t gotten around to shelving then. You leave him to his own devices, wanting to get as much done as you can. The owner doesn’t like it when it takes more than a couple days to shelf the new stock.
“Does it ever get boring?” Shades asks suddenly, taking you by shock for a moment.
“Care to elaborate?” you ask, trying to figure out what genre you’re supposed to shelf Sia under. She’s pop, right?
“Working in a store by yourself,” Shades explains. You can’t tell if he’s looking at you or not, but he’s still flipping through records, so you’re assuming he’s not.
You shrug, sliding “This is Acting” into the New Releases crate, deciding you’ll find out where it actually belongs later. “Could be worse,” you tell him, going back to the counter to grab a new stack of records. “I get to choose the music that plays, normally.”
“Normally?” he repeats, hands pausing where they are. You think he might be glancing up at you now, but give up on trying to tell for certain.
“Sometimes there’s a record that’s in high demand,” you explain, moving around to Soundtracks and placing the stack of “Hamilton” records in with the Hs. “And the owner wants that one played over the speaker. So that people know we have it.” Which is a totally dumb rule, you think to yourself.
“How many times does that happen?” he questions curiously, resuming his perusal of the records.
“Don’t know,” you say with another shrug. “Once every couple weeks, I guess. Comes with high anticipation. Are you looking for anything specific, or just looking?”
“Trying to rush me?” he retorts.
“No, but this is the third time you’ve come in looking through every single crate we’ve got, and you’ve yet to buy anything,” you point out. “If I knew what you were looking for, I could keep an eye out for it and hold it if we get it.”
The corners of Shades’s mouth turns up in a small smile. “That’s nice of you,” he says, “but I’m just looking for something that I don’t have yet.”
You don’t say anything, but you do raise an eyebrow pointedly. There’s no way that he owns every single record in the store.
“That interests me,” he adds.
“Fair enough,” you grant him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“(Y/n),” the owner calls, the second you walk into the store. “I need you to look through these crates whenever you’ve got the chance.”
You nod, knowing that there’s no real chance of winning an argument with him, and also having no real problem with going through three boxes of secondhand records. It’s not like you get much traffic on a daily basis, and most of the traffic you do get doesn’t really need you to walk them through the store.
The copy of Pink Floyd’s The Wall is in absolutely terrible shape, but it’s Pink Floyd’s The Wall, so you’re going to have to do anything and everything in your power to make it sellable.
Shades might even buy something for once, if you got it working.
“I’m really starting to see the benefit to choosing the music.”
You look up.
“No sunglasses, today?” you ask, as Shades moves further into the store.
“It’s raining,” he points out, shaking water droplets out of his hair. You’re impressed; he’s as far from any of the displays as he can get, being considerate of the records.
“Is that what they call it when water falls from the sky?” You’ve lived in LA for a little over three months now—coincidentally, the last time you’ve seen rain was a little over three months ago too.
“It’s what I’ve heard the Elders say,” Shades (who has really pretty eyes, now that you can see them) replies with a huff of laughter.
You snort. “The Elders are wise,” you agree sagely. “And all-knowing.”
“Indeed they are.”
You both stare at each other before giving up and breaking into a fit of giggles.
“Anyway, I almost didn’t recognize you without them,” you explain, going back to your careful cleaning of the Pink Floyd vinyl. You really, really want to salvage this.
“Excellent,” he says. You wonder if he ever gets bored, going through more-or-less the same records every single day. “My master plan is working.” He glances up, seeing the crates still on the counter. “Do those still need to be gone through?”
“This one’s in abysmal condition,” you say, holding up the copy of The Wall.
“They’re all probably in similar states. What’s salvageable will be shelved within the week.”
Shades hums in thought. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll have to come back then, won’t I?”
“Guess you will.”
As he walks out, you wonder when your relationship got to the point where you’re flirting with each other, because you’re pretty sure that’s what just happened.
By some miracle, you were able to get the Pink Floyd album into a decent condition. It was, unarguably, the worst of the set, so you’re going through the store and shelving the contents of all three of the crates when Shades comes in again (once again wearing his sunglasses).
“They’re decent, but not shelved yet,” you tell him, not looking up at him. “You’re just a tiny bit early.” You’re extremely proud of the restoration work you did on The Wall; maybe you’ll be able to get a raise out of it.
“Damn,” he mutters, coming over and peeking over your shoulder at the record on top of the stack in your arms. “Oh, that’s a good one.”
“Want it?” you ask, holding it out to him.
He shakes his head. “Already got it.”
“Of course you do,” you mumble, moving away to shelf it. You can’t figure out why he keeps coming in; clearly, he’s not finding anything here worth his time or efforts, and you would have given up by now. Seriously, this guy’s got to be coming in solely on faith at this point.
“I don’t have that one,” he adds, pointing at TheWall and looking (possibly) absolutely elated.
“My pride and joy, right here,” you say, handing it to him. “Not in the best condition, but passable.”
He takes it, actually taking his sunglasses off for a better look. You are, once again, finding yourself struck by how pretty his eyes are. (And the rest of his face; he is startlingly pretty.) You had been right, his entire face is lit up, looking awestruck and honored to be holding the record.
You feel a stab of pride; you’re about to sell an album that you had thought was going to have to be trashed, and you’re about to sell it to Shades of all people. This is the absolute peak of your career (even though being one of the only clerks of an under-the-radar record shop isn’t going to end up your career), and you’re definitely going to get a raise out of this one.
You move around him, shelving the rest of the records. He starts following you again, clearly looking to see if there’s anything else that he doesn’t have yet.
You aren’t sure if he will or not, but you let him follow you anyway.
Which is strange, because you’ve usually got a pretty serious thing about personal space. He’s not incredibly close—you can’t feel his breath on your neck or anything—but you have a hyper-awareness of people less than two feet away from you. But for some reason, you don’t mind it when it’s him.
(You decide to ignore the implications of that because you are not getting a crush on another guy whose name you do not know.)
In the end, Shades actually ends up with a small stack of records himself—there are four, including the Pink Floyd, and you’re ridiculously proud of yourself for finally selling something to him.
As he leaves, you realize that he may or may not come back—depending on his logic, the store is either actually worth his time, or has expended its usefulness to him. You try to convince yourself that you won’t be disappointed if he doesn’t come back in.