Top 5 sleeve/cover art pieces in your record collection? Not necessarily top 5 records, but specifically the art!
SUCH a solid question and also so hard to answer but here are five that i really appreciate
the monkees, head (1968)—it's hard to capture the mirror effect in photographs but i think it's one of the coolest album covers ever and is so incredibly smart to have the listener's face reflected back; real ones know how i feel about records as performing objects and this is a prime example for me (see also: my dissertation chapter on this album LOL)
phil ochs, rehearsals for retirement (1969)—extremely depressing but such a perfectly crafted image to capture ochs's mood post-chicago 1968, where he described himself as having "died" politically; a difficult precursor to the end of ochs's life but what a spectacular album too
the beach boys, smile sessions (recorded 1966-1967, released 2011)—i just love the simplicity and innocence of this art and i'm glad that this cover (originally made for the planned release of the album in the mid-sixties before it was scrapped and condensed for release as smiley smile) is the one they chose for the official release of the sessions!
joni mitchell, song to a seagull (1967)—all of joni's covers could have made this list but her artwork for song to a seagull is so spectacular and so matches the tone of the album; the colors, the ocean, the birds spelling out the title, the photo hidden among the flowers—it's just perfect
michael hurley, hi fi snock uptown (1972)—another artist who frequently created his own album art, michael hurley has some really fun covers (often featuring these wolf characters); something about this cartoon style, especially the simplicity of the moon, star, and cityscape in the doorway, is just really evocative to me and i think really fits with the tone of the album itself (i feel similarly about tom waits's nighthawks at the diner in how it instantly transports you to this specific time and place)
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Johnny Cooper gets more than he bargained for when he sets out to save his friends’ bookshop from closing.
But he won’t shower again. Smelling like sex is part of Johnny’s charm. Dabbing away and redoing the most scandalous streaks on his face, he puts on way too much lipstick so he can kiss a napkin and write, Let’s make up! on a napkin. This note, he leaves for Fraser, because he’s unsure if his flatmate will make an appearance this evening. It’s always a fifty-fifty chance of Fraser drinking alone or suffering through company when he’s angry at his friends.
Johnny’s employer’s only uniform stipulation is an all black ensemble. More partial to color, Johnny capitulates only because he loves this job. He shimmies into skin-tight leather pants and a matching crop top, accessorizing with copious amounts of gold jewelry, black boots, and a spritz of citrusy cologne. One last glance in the mirror. Johnny preens. He looks like a siren, supermodel, slut. It’ll be easy enough to snare a good-looking man after his shift, and, in doing so, forget all about Reginald Seekings.
Featuring art and concept by @blood-suits-and-tears and fic by @ithappensoffstage , London Ain't The Place To Feel Lonely will be revealed on Thursday, January 1
I'm so fond of this scene in Ch2 of nature offers a violence because I've been thinking of this dialogue for paddyeoin since this summer, even before I got started on this fic, and though I can't copy-paste the entire scene it has such a sweet, soft vibe to it that warms my heart 🥰 And I love the piano scene so much, it was an absolute blast to get to explore how they got there (Paddy's hand on Eoin's shoulder, thumb just shy of resting on Eoin's neck) and what came after <3
"Come on," Eoin suddenly says as he gets up, destroying all of Paddy's efforts. "I want to play."
Following Eoin's eyes, Paddy looks at the piano, then back at him.
"If it is music you want to play, I'll stand back and watch."
"Don't you want to learn?"
The question is genuine, Paddy can tell from the curious tilt of his head. But the thought has never occurred to him, and surprise keeps his mouth parted, not a word on his tongue. Eoin must take his silence for scepticism because he adds, almost shy, "I promise I'm not too bad a teacher."
Paddy looks at his hands, calloused and scarred, then to the piano and its black and white keys, awfully delicate. Thinks of all the melodies Eoin can pull from the instrument, his face smoothed out with peace and contentment when he loses himself in the music.
"Music is an art whose Muse hasn't found me, lad."
Eoin purses his lips, brow furrowed in gentle admonishment.
"She would if you'd let her. I've never seen your swearing get in the way of your poetry," he adds, the hand resting lightly on Paddy's shoulder no doubt feeling the flinch that strikes him. Eoin doesn't mention it though, only smiles soft and kind enough his eyes crinkle.
"Now, come on. I'll skip the boring parts."
25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read
none can love well who are not worshipers of the beautiful by @eiriniko because everyone needs to read about yearning Paddy 🥰🫶🏻 my sweet boys yearn so much, they're Kings of Yearnland and live in Pining Castle near Longing Creek <3
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I don't believe you're on Twitter and rightfully so, but there's a whole Sabrina Carpenter x Killjoys crossover happening that seems highly relevant to your interests: https://x.com/vampiresaints/status/1930430211092283633?t=TEeuH96iqVdl-g5KlFMfQg&s=19
i feel like you really understand me as a person because this is truly beautiful
ok i haven't seen s4 yet but steve works at the video store right? if you are so inpsired please write billy trying to flirt/swindle his way into free movies and/or movie dates. <3
ohhh ok this is gonna have some definite season four vibes going on, but not in a spoiler-y way! just in the "the writers did something right and made Steve & Robin the best of besties" way. let's do this!
if you think that you've got something missing (you probably do)
fic requests open
Monday afternoons move at a glacial pace.
Robin sits cross-legged on the counter, her head titled as she flicks through channels on the mounted television set. Newscasters and weathermen and talk show hosts all flash in between storms of static. With Keith out for the evening and the store tumbleweed-level deserted, she has free reign to watch whatever she'd like; the problem is, there's nothing on. Robin sighs, flicks the TV off, checks her watch. It's only 6:57, still hours before she can clock out.
The front door swings open. Robin whirls around, a grin spreading across her face as she sees a certain redhead and her surly brother bustling into the store. "Oh, loverboy," Robin whisper-sings, slipping from her perch and half-skipping her way to where Steve is shelving returns, her hands clasped behind her back, swinging her body side to side.
Steve raises a brow. "What's with you?"
"Don't look now," Robin says, "but your boyfriend just walked in."
"What are you—" Steve starts, and then, "I don't have a—" as he cranes his neck, head swiveling until his gaze falls on Billy Hargrove, poking through the shelves with lukewarm disinterest as Max scans the horror section. Steve looks back at Robin, whose smile has only grown. "Stop it," Steve says, trying and failing to sound stern. He holds up a warning finger like an exasperated dad and Robin does her very best to hide her laugh. "It's not like that."
Steve is a little bit too loud at all the wrong times. Billy hears him, eyes flicking up over a wire rack of Sour Patch kids and Milk Duds. Steve sees him, a hot flush creeping up the back of his neck when Billy cocks the kind of half smile that could be condescending or could be flirtatious. Steve doesn't give himself time to find out which. He looks back at Robin, at her big eyes and that ever-growing, shit-eating grin she won't wipe off.
"Shut up," Steve says, and Robin sighs.
"Come on," she says. "I'm in limbo with Vicki. Worse than limbo. What's worse than limbo? Whatever it is, that's where I am." She grabs a tape off of the returns cart, shoves it onto the waiting shelf. "He's into you. And you get puppy eyes whenever you hear his name. You couldn't even watch Gremlins the other day because his stupid name is in it."
"You leave Gizmo out of this," Steve warns, that dad-like finger poked in Robin's face. She grabs another tape, leans over to tap Steve's head with it.
"My point," she says, "is that you're in love with Billy, and he's right there, and I am in the romantic Sahara right now." She hits him once more with the tape before slapping it onto its shelf. "And he's going to the counter. And he's looking all stupid flirty. And you should check him out so that I can live vicariously through you and your weird but still precious and oddly wholesome real-life love story."
"Check him—" Steve stammers. He can see Billy moving up the center aisle, pointing at the half-priced candy racks and telling Max to grab something for him. His eyes meet Steve's again, and there's that goddamn smile, and Steve's face burns hot as he again looks away. Robin is watching him knowingly, bouncing on her toes as Billy's move closer to the front of the store. "I am not checking him out," Steve hisses half-heartedly.
"At the register, doofus," Robin says, jerking her chin to where Billy and Max are reviewing their finds, Billy leaning heavily against the check out counter, Max slapping cassette after cassette onto its surface. Steve's feature soften as he watches them.
The truth is that he doesn't even know if he and Billy are friends, let alone whatever the hell Robin seems to want them to be. Sure, they're friendly, but Billy has hardly been out since...since Starcourt, Steve realizes, watching Billy absently touch his side with the slightest of winces. Max frowns at him, asks if he's okay, and Billy shrugs her off. Steve has gotten that same response, gruff but not quite mean, not quite the Billy Hargrove that tore through the high school parking lot nearly two Octobers ago. He's gotten it at the auto shop, where he's taken to helping Billy patch up his Camaro — out of guilt, he tells Robin, because he is the one who totaled it. He's gotten it at parties, where he's found Billy set off from the crowd, his back to the wall, one arm secured protectively around his middle. "You good?" Steve once asked, and Billy had given him that dumb half-smile, just one corner of his mouth twitched up in the most ambiguous semi-smirk, before pushing off the wall and muttering something about finding a drink.
"Earth to dingus," Robin says, and Steve feels a soft rush of air as she waves her hand in front of his face. "Go forth and be flirty," she says, sweeping her arm toward the cash register. Billy is watching him, Steve realizes, and his face flushes all over again.
Robin gives him a nudge and Steve stumbles forward. He feels like a fish in a tank, observed from all angles — Billy and Robin, two pairs of eyes boring into him.
"Uh," Steve says, clearing his throat and averting his gaze as he takes the stack of videos off the counter. "Find everything?"
There is a pause, and Steve glances up to see Billy's head angled, his body leaned forward, his eyes scanning Steve up and down. "I think so," he says.
"Good," Steve says. Max mumbles something about finding a bathroom and slips away and Steve desperately watches her leave, wishing he could call her back, feeling suddenly self-conscious, pinned in place by Billy's gaze. He busies himself with the scanner, dropping each tape into a plastic bag, pretending he can't feel Billy's eyes on him.
"So," Billy says eventually, tapping his fingers against the counter. "Any way you could sneak in a discount?"
"What?" Steve asks, finally glancing up.
"For a friend," Billy suggests, his smile feeling less in-between and more genuine as he watches Steve's face flash through waves of confusion. He slides the bags of tape and candy across the counter and Billy's hand lands on top of his, his thumb brushing Steve's knuckles in a way that feels intentional.
"I don't—" Steve starts. "Uh. I mean."
"You can come over," Billy says with a shrug. "Tit for tat, y'know? You help me. Get a date out of it. Not a bad deal, right?"
"I—" Steve stutters. He glances over his shoulder, sees Max and Robin whip their heads away from him, both of them hiding their laughter behind their hands. Steve looks back to Billy, slipping his own hand from beneath Billy's. "What are you doing?" he asks.
"Oh, come on," Billy says, though he doesn't really sound annoyed. "Don't play dumb, Harrington."
"I'm—" Steve says, shaking his head. "I'm not playing."
"Okay," Billy says. He takes out his wallet, fishes out crumbled singles and fives and slides them across the counter. "I'll cut to it." Steve silently takes them, fumbles as he counts out Billy's change. "I'm dropping Maxine off for her nerdy little game of whatever-the-fuck with her friends. She's got me stockpiling stupid movies because apparently I missed some kind of cinematic revolution on account of being—" he pauses here, makes a gesture with his hands across his chest and stomach, his fingers like claws. Steve grimaces. Billy shrugs. "So. You know." He taps the bag of videos. "Playing catch-up. And I could use some company. And you don't seem like bad company."
Billy looks at Steve through his lashes, squinting as if trying to gauge Steve's reaction. Steve stammers. He can feel Max and Robin watching him, watching them, but when he looks at Billy his heart skips a beat and, okay, yeah, maybe Robin had a point. Maybe Billy makes Steve feel like he's living in a rom-com, and maybe he wishes he was, because in a movie this would be the part where the brazen love interest leaned across the counter and kissed the unsuspecting protagonist, and maybe Steve wants that.
"I, uh," Steve stammers, meeting Billy's eyes. "I'm off work at 9?"
Billy drums his fingers on the counter. "9 it is, then."
