Eurofans Rn:

Hello! I was wondering if you could write some kind of scenario about a headcanon where Murdoc is afraid of singing, even in front of just the band? As a child, he was forced to sing and was exploited for his voice by his father so nowadays he gets extremely anxious whenever somebody asks him to sing. (Only if you want to, of course! I really enjoy how you write all these headcanons, by the way! You have some writing skills! :)

(Thank you so much!! I’m so glad you like how I write them!!! Sorry that it took so long to write and that it is so long to read… I really liked writing it!!! I hope you like it!!)

Contrary to popular belief Murdoc can sing. He is a decent singer and enjoys singing by himself. Murdoc absolutely refuses to sing in front of anyone else. He can’t, he won’t. After his father forced him to get up on stage and humiliate himself every weekend as a child he swore he would never sing for anyone again and so far that had been the case. 

Murdoc had sung along sarcastically to a few lines of his favorite songs on his radio show, but that was the most anyone had ever heard out of him. Unless that is you can find the few surviving VHS tapes that were taken of him as a child at his father’s favorite bar. Sebastian had filmed the tapes hoping that he could later sell them on the off chance that Murdoc had gotten a few seconds of fame. Murdoc had gone back and taken the tapes before Sebastian could sell them, now they haunted him. 

A very few of the tapes had survived. Murdoc would take them out and rewatch the tapes in his Winnebago where no one else would see them. Murdoc would go over all of the mistakes he had made as a child and the jeering from the crowd off-screen. 

He never forgot the performance where an unruly bar patron had dumped a plate of fish and chips over his head before proceeding to pour the rest of his now flat beer on poor sniffling shivering little Murdoc. The on-screen Murdoc had just stood there clutching his bass looking towards his father and older brother, his eyes pleading them for help, as the man cackled and cracked a few jokes. Murdoc shook his head and sent a few chips falling to the stage floor. He had won the prize for best comedy that year.

The tape suddenly cut to a shaky scene where Murdoc’s brother was holding the camera. Sebastian was holding a handful of five-pound notes in one hand and he leaned his other elbow on Murdoc’s head. “This is the most money this brat has ever made me! I’m almost proud of ‘em!” Sebastian looked down at a faintly smiling Murdoc as he exclaimed “Almost.” Little Murdoc’s smile weakened further but he remembered his exact thoughts from that moment. “I know how to make ‘em proud of me now! He’s almost proud of me!” Presently Murdoc sat shaking in his chair on the edge of his seat thinking “That was the only time he ever said he was proud of me. No almost proud of me. I wasn’t good enough that time.” Murdoc sat shaking and shivering his eyes glued to the screen. 

The tape suddenly cut to static, the VCR spit the tape out at his feet. Murdoc slowly sat back in his chair like he had been shocked out of a trance. He shivered and put the tape back in its case. He wouldn’t dare anyone find those tapes. Murdoc would rather have to battle Satan to the death in the deepest pits of Hell than let his bandmates find those tapes. Murdoc always wanted to scream or throw up after he watched those tapes. His father was long gone by now and he didn’t need the tapes, but he couldn’t throw them out. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I wasn’t good enough that time” Murdoc sat in silence thinking “I’ll never be good enough for him and if anyone finds these tapes I’ll never be good enough for anyone! I’ll be a bloody laughing stock! I’d have to be a circus clown!” 

Murdoc took a few sharp breaths and sighed looking at himself in the mirror with a worried look on his face. “Alright Murdoc alright, no need to panic, alls well, ya gotta get a hold of yourself! The old geezer is dead anyway it’s not like he can do anything to ya now. Ya gotta calm down before your thoughts get the best of ya.” Murdoc stood up slowly and wandered down to the other end of his Winnebago where he kept a few stacks of records. He rummaged through the fourth stack until he found what he wanted. 

Murdoc hummed the tune of the first song as he was about to put the record on, then came a knock on the Winnebago’s door, Murdoc froze, and 2D’s voice called “Murdoc are ya alive in there! If so Russ says you better come eat dinner seein’ as you didn’t eat anything earlier an we don’t wanna have to come in there two days from now to try an decide if we gotta take ya to the hospital or leave ya on the couch. Russ says if you don’t come now he’s gonna come get ya because you’ve been in there all day!” Murdoc sighed and grumbled, “Alright fine quiet beatin’ on the door I’m comin’ out…” Murdoc stashed the tapes away in a small cabinet under the bed, he didn’t notice the edge of the last tape still sticking out, before he slung open the door. Stu jumped back with a yelp. 

Murdoc descended the three worn out rusty steps and slammed the Winnebago’s door shut locking it. “Why do ya always lock it? Nobody’s gonna go in there. Nobody wants to go in there!” exclaimed. Murdoc turned to him with a tired look that transformed into his regular annoyed grimace. “Because its mine an I’ll do what I like with it. That’s how it is Dents. Now let’s go.” Murdoc and 2D proceeded to take the elevator up from the garage basement to the main floor. Stu thought Murdoc was just bored, but really Murdoc had mastered the bored-when-in-reality-I want-to-fling-myself-in-traffic look which he used quite often. Murdoc is a master actor and the band was none the wiser. 

Upon entering the kitchen Noodle and Russel looked up. “It’s about time you decided to rejoin society.” Russel gave a light-hearted laugh. Murdoc smirked, “Yeah thought I’d grace ya all with my presence!” Noodle shook her head with the same smirk she had learned from Murdoc. “We thought you were digging a bunker down there or a tunnel to the underworld!” Murdoc let out his usual cackle “Yeah sure Noods its a tunnel to Hell, but ya gotta make an appointment first!” The group finally calmed down and sat down to dinner. 

Noodle looked up watching Murdoc then she asked “Stu said you were humming one of our songs. Are you thinking of remaking it?” She smiled and gave a little laugh. Everyone knew Murdoc couldn’t sing. Murdoc looked up from his dinner at Noodle. He looked shocked, a little horrified to say the least. “What nah! He must have been hearin’ things! Stu your hearing things! Ya are hearing things again! B-because it wasn’t me!” Murdoc laughed in an exaggerated tone before saying “I don’t sing Dents ya know that! Ya are ridiculous!” Stu sat down his fork looking confused “No I did hear you! I know it was you! Nobody else was down there but you and me and I wasn’t singing!” 

Murdoc gritted his teeth in a smile “Stu. 2D. Mate, listen you didn’t hear anything. Ya are lying or you were singing one of the two. Now, what was it?” Stu looked annoyed “I told you it was not me! It had to be you! I’m not lyin’ I know what I heard! You are the one lying Murdoc!” Murdoc shoved his chair back from the table and stood up grabbing the collar of Stu’s t-shirt “Now you listen here an you listen good! I. Don’t. Sing! That’s final! Get that in your brain if nothin’ else!” Stu whimpered softly as Murdoc let him go. The band ate the rest of their dinner in silence. 

Later that night Murdoc slunk down to the recording booth in the basement. He had to wait until five in the morning when nearly everyone was asleep. If Stu was awake he was too scared to go down to the basement to venture downstairs. Murdoc had convinced Stu that the basement was haunted more than the rest of the house at night and if he went down there at night then Satan would eat him alive. Needless to say, Murdoc was able to sing alone in peace during these ungodly early hours of the day. 

Murdoc would write new songs and perform them when no one else was around. These few early morning hours were truly the happiest of the day for Murdoc. After tweaking three or four songs Murdoc was awfully tired and fell asleep in the recording booth. 

The next morning Noodle came downstairs to find her guitar only to find Murdoc curled up in a chair clutching his bass and mumbling to himself. Noodle opened the recording booth’s door silently and snuck inside. She reached over Murdoc and pulled her guitar up and over him. She didn’t wake him up, Noodle knew how little sleep Murdoc got. She also knew, like Murdoc had told her as a child, that he slept best when he felt safest and Murdoc thought the safest place to sleep was a place with a locking door. This was why Noodle didn’t complain or find it too odd that Murdoc would fall asleep in the recording booth. 

On her way out of the recording booth, Noodle noticed that the control panel was still lit up. She put the headphones on and hit play on the panel. Noodle was utterly amazed by what she heard. Murdoc could not only sing, but he was rather good at it! 

The first track that he had sang was Tomorrow Comes Today followed by Double Bass, one of Murdoc’s favorites, and Stop the Dams. All sad songs. Emotional songs. Lastly was El Mañana, this was the saddest most emotional version of the song that Noodle had ever heard, albeit 2D’s version was more beautiful, but Murdoc’s version was a very sad song full of raw emotion that left Noodle feeling like her heart had been ripped out and stomped on. 

Noodle looked up over the panel, on the verge of tears as she stared at Murdoc curled up in his chair softly snoring and wheezing as he slept. Next to the recording panel was the key to Murdoc’s Winnebago. Noodle knew he wouldn’t be happy, but she needed answers. Why wouldn’t he sing in front of the band? Why did he make such a show of denying that he could sing? She needed to know and the Winnebago would be a vault of answers.

Noodle made her way over to the Winnebago and slowly unlocked the door, it creaked making her jump, her head spun around to see if Murdoc had heard, but he didn’t head a thing in the soundproof recording booth. Noodle kept up the three rusty steps and into a tiny cluttered room with blackout curtains. She closed and locked the door behind her. 

Noodle had to let her eyes adjust to the low light shining in from between the curtains. She finally could see and started her journey of finding the answers that would unlock an age-old mystery. 

Noodle spent an hour searching through the stacks of records, cassette tapes, and old tapes of the band’s early practices. These were all interesting but were not what she was looking for. Noodle was getting tired of searching and spun around to leave. As she turned her shoe kicked the edge of a tape and sent it sliding from under the bed to in front of the small tv. Noodle sat down in Murdoc’s chair and picked up the tape, unlike the others this one was unlabeled save for the year 1976. Murdoc would have ten years old then. Noodle dusted off the tape and pushed it into the slot at the bottom of the tiny tv. The tv sprang to life and the tape played. A tiny ten-year-old Murdoc stood on stage under the spotlight. He chewed on his thumbnail looking out into the crowd as someone announced his name and the song he would play. 

Noodle leaned forward in he seat watching as a man off stage interrupted Murdoc’s singing halfway through the act. Noodle watched in horror as Murdoc was drowned in fish and chips with half a beer to add insult to injury. Offscreen Sebastian handed the camera to his eldest son before he stomped up to the stage and threated a now terrified Murdoc that if he didn’t finish the song that he wouldn’t see the light of day again. Murdoc shook the chips from his soaking wet hair and tried to adjust the microphone, but the stand broke in his hands. Murdoc stared pitifully from the microphone to his father who threw up his hands in frustration. Murdoc tried to balance the microphone back in the broken stand but it fell to the floor and rolled away to a waitress. Murdoc jumped from the stage to get the microphone. The waitress picked it up and feeling sorry for him told “Just go sing an I’ll hold this for ya.” Murdoc was extremely embarrassed and kept thanking the waitress over and over until she told him to stop. The waitress sat at the edge of the stage and Murdoc sang his heart out for the kind lady, he couldn’t bear to look at his father. Once the song over the crowd laughed and fell over themselves. 

Noodle shifted in the chair uncomfortably. She couldn’t believe how cruel that crowd was. No wonder Murdoc had chewed out a tech guy for grumbling at Noodle when she was singing as a kid. Murdoc didn’t want anyone to do anything remotely like that to her. 

Noodle looked back at the tape which cut to static then focused on Murdoc and his father. Sebastian was leaning on Murdoc waving a small handful of five-pound notes in the face of another man. Murdoc was looking up at his father as Sebastian said “This is the most money this brat has ever made me! I’m almost proud of ‘em!” Sebastian looked down at Murdoc, who slightly grinned up at him with a look desperate for approval, as he exclaimed “Almost.” Little Murdoc’s grin fell from his face and his brother laughed off screen “What did ya think was gonna happen Murdoc! You thought for even a second that ya could screw up that badly and he would be proud of you?! This is too good! This is priceless comedy! This tape will be worth gold!” The tape suddenly cut to static. 

Noodle sat back in the chair, she hadn’t realized how far she had leaned forward. Noodle felt horrible and she had her answers. She stood up stunned into silence. She sat back down and rewinded the tape. She paused it on the scene where Sebastian was leaning on Murdoc. Noodle was disgusted with Murdoc’s father. She thought to herself “No wonder Murdoc only calls him by his name, I wouldn’t call him a “father” either.” 

The door to the Winnebago rattled. Murdoc’s voice yelled from the other side “Where the hell is my key! I couldn’t have left it in there, well maybe I did. Didn’t thinks so.” Noodle sighed with relief. “Ah well, I’ve got a spare!” Noodle panicked and looked about frantically.  There was nowhere for her to hide. Noodle took a deep breath and knew what she would say to him. Murdoc would be mad, that was undebatable, but Noodle knew what she had to say would calm him down, maybe. 

Murdoc fought with the Winnebago’s lock until it finally gave way and allowed him to enter. Murdoc stepped onto the first step and stopped. He knew something was wrong. His stacks of records had been shifted to the right and the cassettes had been turned the opposite way. Murdoc let out a low growl. Noodle took a step back into the shadows and stepped on a discarded cassette case. 

Murdoc put his spare key back in his pocket, slowly let the door swing open, and catapulted himself into the Winnebago at full speed. Murdoc snarled looking like a wild animal ready for a fight, Noodle let out a short scream and tumbled backward onto the floor scooting away until she was under the small wall mounted table. Murdoc leaped from the doorway to directly in front of the table crouching forward and grabbing Noodle’s hand me down shoes she had gotten from Stu. Noodle kicked at him as Murdoc drug her out, kicking and screaming, from under the table. 

“What did I tell ya about stayin’ out of here 2D! You told me yesterday that you wouldn’t wanna come in here anyway! 2D you answer me! How did you even get in h-” Murdoc finally drug Noodle out from under the table and stared at her. “Noodle? W-what are you doin’ in here?” Murdoc let her shoe go and stood up slowly backing away from her. Noodle stood up and looked at Murdoc then at the tiny tv. She had left the tv on with the tape in paused on the scene of Sebastian leaning on Murdoc. Murdoc followed her gaze to the tv. His head whipped around and he gave her a real look of fear, utter humiliation, and anger. “Is that what you were looking for? You wanted to laugh at me with the rest of them? Is that what you want!” Murdoc screamed as he stomped to the tv and ejected the tape, yanked it from the tv, and shoved it at Noodle pushing her backward a few steps. “Well, there ya go! Take the damn thing then! Go get famous on the bloody internet for havin’ the most horrid video of Murdoc Niccals! Its gotta be worth something by now! Go on get out! Shoo!” Murdoc made a shooing motion at Noodle. 

Noodle didn’t move an inch. She watched as Murdoc sat on the edge of the bed and hung his head. After a moment Murdoc looked up at Noodle with a look of pleading “Just leave me alone will ya? Go on and show Russ and 2D if ya want. I was a laughing stock then, I might as well be one now. Serves me right doesn’t it? Trying to hide all of it.” Murdoc sighed and continued softly. “I just wish it was anyone but you who found it. Russ wouldn’t say much and Dents would get a kick out of it, but ya always looked up to me so much as a kid, but you were just looking up to a lie. You saw that tape, I can’t sing, so whats the point of tryin to now.” 

Murdoc stood up and hauled out a box of tapes from under the bed. “Here take the set. The one ya are holding is the last one. Can’t separate the set now.” Murdoc pushed the box into Noodle’s hands and took a step back. “Well, what do ya have to say? Don’t just stand there! Tell me something! anything, p-please Noods. Don’t just stare at me.” Noodle dropped the box of tapes and stepped forward so fast Murdoc couldn’t escape. Noodle hugged him as tightly as she could. Murdoc looked down at her as she mumbled something to him. “You know I can’t understand ya if you mumble at me.” Noodle looked up at Murdoc who still had a worried frightened look plastered on his face. “I’m proud of you.” Murdoc looked bewildered and squirmed trying to get out of the hug. Noodle hugged Murdoc a little more and said “I’m not almost proud of you, I am proud of you and you can sing. I heard the songs you recorded last night.” Murdoc stopped struggling and in a moment he was wracked with sobs.

After about ten minutes Murdoc sniffled and started to pull himself together again. “Alright, all of this, the whole lot. Everything you saw and heard here is a secret. Don’t tell Russ and 2D. Got it?” Noodle nodded “Only if you agree to sing with me every once in a while.” Murdoc sighed and gave a nod. “If you want me to then I will. Ya know I used to sing for ya when you were a kid. You had the worst nightmares and I’d come in and scare off all the monsters and sit with ya and sing to ya until you fell back asleep. I bet you don’t remember that now do ya?” Noodle laughed and smiled “How could I forget! You wrestled a sweater and told me you fought off the monster! It was hilarious!” 

Murdoc and Noodle agreed that in addition to their late night cartoon watching that they would rewatch some of the funny home videos that had been taken of the band’s early years and record a few songs. The rest of the band never saw the songs and Noodle and Murdoc got a kick out of singing funny songs. Murdoc stopped rewatching the tapes he kept under the bed in his Winnebago. He had new tapes to watch now, mostly of he and Noodle jumping up and down yelling random lyrics in the recording booth. 

Why’s he so lovable! Why?! Why?!

Live in Montreal 1981

spunchbob

krib

It's been a while so here are some doodles of 70s Deaky enjoying the company of his wife backstage 😌💕 Ah how I miss having more Johnica content 😭

Please do not trace or repost thanks 🙏🏻 Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

steven grant x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: formal wear

warnings: dry humping, cumming in pants

word count: 1k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

It's strange, the way that you feel when he comes out of the bathroom, suit so neat and curls slicked back, the faint smell of aftershave stilling in the air.

It makes your heart race and skip a beat at the same time, it makes your stomach flutter, and you see his cheeks turning a bright shade of red under your gaze.

"What? I look stupid don't I" he chuckles looking down at himself, adjusting the left sleeve of his jacket.

"Stupid?" you repeat, a scoff escaping your lips. "Steven you–" you take a step closer to him, a hand coming to cup his cheek, making him look back up at you. "You look so handsome."

A flattered smile grows over his face, and he thanks you quietly, almost as if he didn’t believe the compliment.

“Fuck I can’t let you go like that, everyone is gonna want you” you laugh looking up and down at him again, adjusting his shirt collar.

The museum had organized some sort of gala, a charity event with people in powerful positions. It was the best occasion for Steven to make a good impression on people that had more power than Donna. 

He chuckles before speaking. “It’s a bunch of old people and… Donna. I don’t think you’ll have any competition, love”

“You never know” you shrug playfully, and he scoffs at the stupidity of your words as he walks to the couch.

“Are you gonna start getting ready soon? We still have time but I’d like to arrive there as soon as it starts” he explains as he sits down. 

“Yeah don't worry I'll get to that” you smirk as you join him to the couch, straddling his lap. His hands quickly settle at your hips, and he’s now the one to look you up and down. 

It’s cute, the way he still blushes and looks up at you with big doe eyes just the way he did the first time you ever did that.

“I mean it, when I say you look handsome” you nod.

“I know you do” he smiles sheepishly.

“And you know I never lie to you, right?”

He hums in approval. 

“Then you should believe me when I say it” you declare as you lean down to capture his lips in a kiss, one of his hands leaving your hip to come and rest at the back of your head. 

He shifts in place to get in a more comfortable position, and your mouth opens in a moan when his thigh accidentally rubs against your crotch.

“Oh” he scoffs as he pulls away, looking down at your crotch, a sly smirk over his face. “Now that’s interesting innit?” he teases, and you’re the one to blush now. “Should I–” he moves his thigh so it can brush against you again, and he laughs when you whine at the fiction.

“Fuck Steven, don’t be a tease” you pant as your forehead presses against his, looking down at your crotch. It’s quick, the way your body starts to get overwhelmed with lust, and it’s emphasized when both of his hands settle back onto your hips to ground you back onto his thigh.

“C’mon, work for it” he tilts his head to the side, and even though it’s not an order you interpret it as such, you have to when he looks up at you through his lashes with lustful yet soft eyes. 

Your head tucks into the crook of his neck when you start to slowly grind back and forth on his thigh, the pressure feeling just right on your clit. Your breath feels hot against his skin, and though it feels pleasant, he wants to see your eyes, the way your face contorts in pleasure.

“Don’t hide, I want to see that sweet face of yours”

You oblige, your hands resting against the back of the couch, caging around his face. He pulls you towards his face to kiss you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth this time. He takes his time to explore your mouth as your hips sensually roll against him, and the small whines you pour into his mouth can’t help but make his slacks feel tighter.

When you pull away your faces still remain close, your pants mixing with his warm breath as he looks down at where you’re moving. You curse under your breath when he lifts up his thigh just a little bit so it can press closer against you, making him bite down on his lip.

His hands guide you back and forth, the friction of all the layers of clothes against your needy clit drawing small, sweet noises from you. “That’s right love” he murmurs as he looks up at your eyes, mesmerized by how much you seemed to enjoy this.

“Wait– just–” you shift and position yourself to grind against his crotch, his head hitting the back of the couch at the friction against his hard-on.

“Oh bollocks” he huffs out, a small chuckle leaving his mouth at the same time.

"Yeah, right," you grin, calculating the rolling of your hips so you can grind exactly where he needs you to.

The friction is maddening, especially when you can feel him twitch in his pants underneath you. Your head falls back with a whine, your heart racing faster by seconds.

“Oh– you close darling?” you nod hastily, eyes shut tight. It only takes a few back and forth movements before your mouth gapes in a silent cry, waves of relief washing over you as you keep grinding against Steven so he can get his own release.

It doesn’t take long either; not with the way he squirms and bucks up into you, chasing after you for more. He bites down on his bottom lip and whines before–

"Oh fuck love I'm gonna– Oh shit," his head falls back again, exposing his perfume sprayed neck as he spills inside his pants with a small grunt. 

You kiss his cheek before you leave his lap, sitting next to him.

“Bloody hell I have to change now” he chuckles as a hand covers his eyes, a small laugh slipping from his mouth. “But it was worth it”

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

moon knight taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @wibblywobblytimesindeed @whatthefishh @grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @bubuslutty @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @cocodiem @pedropascalsidechick @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @weasleybuns @luxisluxurious @himesuedi @daisydark @violet-19999 @stvnnie

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Red Flags

CO-WRITTEN WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way.

Or alternatively: You get to use that ankle restraint on Steven and sit on his beautiful face.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: will cause unrealistic sex expectations, bondage/restraints, cunnilingus (face sitting), safe sex; unsafe relationship choices.

Word Count: 9.2k (ahahahah please don’t look at me)

[Series Masterlist] [Tag List and Masterlist]

The warning signs were written all over him like a marquee outside a theatre, lit up in gold and bright flashing red neon. 

On the first date you were supposed to have, he stood you up, only to call you four days later on a Wednesday night. Closer to midnight than dinnertime, oblivious and confused and asking where you were with a slight panic in his voice. 

“Date’s tonight, yeah? Saturday at seven?”

Un-fucking-believable. 

Keep reading

John from the 1990 issue of the Fan Club Magazine.

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Do you play the piano?