#record label? i sure hope it does

[bearsintreesofficial]

did you guys get a new label? the label for cassiopeia is “I Sure Hope it Does”?

SO: we've been on a massive DIY kick recently. our community have grown so much in the last few years and what we find so energising about bears in trees is being able to create in so many forms. this new era, we've filmed and edited all our own music videos, we're doing all our own promotion etc etc. and whilst counter intuitive have been so amazing for us the last couple years and we're still on great terms, we wanted to do it ourselves. so we self released. we put 'i sure hope it does' in the 'label' section of the song submission because we thought it would be funny. remember everyone: you can create your own art and put it out into the world and build your own community, whenever you like.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

To Know Him Is To Love Him

summary: to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

an: quick someone give this to a boy to read and ask him what steve did wrong. it's for science.

Anon's 1K Celebration

to know him is to love him.

to know him is to stand by him.

to know him is to allow him to break your heart over and over again.

to know him is to hope that one day he'll finally see.

to know him is to be broken by him.

you can't count how many times he put you here, put in this situation. and worse, you can't count how many times you've let him put you in this situation.

three months ago...

you fix steve's tie, patting his shoulder to send him off on yet another date - after he invited himself into your apartment to get him ready for his date. you hated this feeling, the feeling of unrequited love.

you can't blame him, he doesn't know. at least, you think he doesn't know. in fact, you're sure he doesn't, he would never hurt you like that.

"i swear if this date doesn't go well, i'm swearing off women for good."

"does that mean i'm out a friend?" you tease.

"no, of course not," steve laughs. "you're my best friend. you don't count."

your smile falls at the words fall out of his mouth with ease. you don't count. you're not even a consideration. "i don't count as a woman?"

"you know what i meant. you're my friend."

you don't know what he meant. not in the slightest.

"right," you clear your throat, shaking your head with furrowed brows. "good luck on your date."

two months ago...

"i would tell him, but he's just - he's confusing," you admit. "i get a lot of mixed signals."

"men are just idiots," nat offers in consolation. "someday, he'll see. you're perfect for each other."

"thanks." you smile, walking back to your table with a fresh round of drinks. "what are you guys talking about?"

"about steve's terrible dating record," sam jokes.

"ah," you hum, you settle in the booth beside him, leaving plenty of room between the two of you.

steve frowns at you, reaching behind you and gripping your waist. without a word, he slides you until you're pressed against his thigh.

sam humorously snorts, "i don't get you two. you're attached at the hip. you're both attractive singles. make it official already."

you look to steve's reaction for any indication of what he's feeling. steve leans over, kissing your temple, "she knows she's my other half, my soulmate. we don't need labels."

"soulmate?" sam teases.

you shift uncomfortably. he never asked you that, never asked you if you wanted a label. he's never even asked you on a real date, but now he's declaring that he's your soulmate.

how blind can he be?

one month ago...

"please, i miss you, sweetheart." you squeeze your eyes shut. the term of endearment rolls so easily off his tongue. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."

it's intentional. you're trying to get over him. to move past these feelings. he doesn't make it easy. "i know, i've just been busy."

"how about dinner tonight? my place at 8?"

you chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to accept his dinner invite, "i don't know, steve."

"please, i need you."

putting distance between you and steve rogers didn't work. not when he so dutifully sought you out. not when he told you over and over again that he missed you. that he didn't know how to be without you.

his words toy with your head just enough to convince that it's a good idea to enter his gravitational orbit again.

you're not strong enough to resist the pull. you're not strong enough to to say no. you never have been.

you decide that you can't do this. you're going to tell him. you'll tell him. you'll tell him that you want to count. you'll tell him that you want him to see you.

to know him is to love him, you remember. the moment you see him, you crumble. that smile that makes it feel like your life is worthwhile. the eyes that send your rational mind into a haze. to know him is to love him.

he doesn't make it easy for you or your heart. he greets you at the door with a beaming grin, his eyes lighting up. it makes you feel like this is more than just a dinner. it feels like you're finally coming home to him.

you falter as his fingers graze your skin to take off your jacket. the apartment isn't his usual scene either. it feels like so much more than just a normal hangout. it feels... romantic. music spinning on his record player, marvin gaye, you recognize. candles lit in the center of the table. the smell of a home cooked meal simmering over the stove.

you turn to him with a nervous smile, "i thought you we were ordering pizza or something."

"i wanted to do something nice for my best girl."

his best girl.

he spends the whole dinner fawning over you. his hand rests on your leg. the other occasionally grazing the back of your hand. he asks you all about your work, about your love life.

"i missed you so much."

you're so entranced by him that your carefully thought out speech is gone, replaced by a soft whisper, "i love you."

"i love you, too." he smiles down at him. his eyes shining bright and blue. it doesn't even occur to him that you're professing your love for him. "i can't imagine my life without you."

you shake your head, reminding yourself that you had to tell him. you needed to move forward, one way or another. "no, steve, i - i'm in love with you."

an anxious chuckle leaves his mouth. his hand drops from your thigh, leaving you feeling cold, hollow, and abandoned. "what?"

you know a rejection when you see one. at least you can move on now. your heart can begin to heal. maybe in time, you could be friends again. "i just had to tell you. just once."

"i don't -" he licks his lips. "i'm sorry, i don't feel the same."

"i understand."

2 weeks ago...

you sigh at yourself, hearing the familiar ding of another voicemail on your phone.

each one chips away at your resolve, each one shatters your broken heart even more.

you told him you understood. you told him that it was okay. you spent the night consoling him. you soothed his fears that he would lose you.

in return, he made you promise to always be in his life. with a broken heart and wounded pride, you weren't strong enough to say no. you simply asked for time and a little space.

time and space that steve had no interest in giving you.

you made it easy for him. you retreated from mutual friends. from social spaces you occupied. you no longer texted or called first. you just needed time.

still, he sought you out.

you've gained enough strength to stop answering his every call and text. you've stuck to your boundaries, at least, the ones steve doesn't seem intent on steamrolling past.

you clutch your kitchen counter with your head hung low. with a couple deep breaths and reminders that he doesn't feel the same for you, you're slowly glad you didn't answer. you're proud of yourself for being strong and doing what's best for you.

at least, you're glad until there's a banging at your door.

your mending heart regrets the moment you answer.

"steve?"

"you weren't answering," he pants, clutching the frame of your doorway, "i wanted to hear your voice."

"steve..." you sputter. "this isn't - it's-"

"i just miss you," he cuts you off. he looks so heartbroken, so sincere. he misses you. you try to not make anything more of it, but then he says it again, "i miss you so much."

you stand to the side, allowing him to pass, "come in."

"thank you," he sighs in relief.

"what happened?"

"the worst date of my life."

you swear you can feel your heart fracturing. the air feels like its being squeezed out of your lungs.

and still, you stand before him trying to look as unaffected as possible. you don't know how effective it is. you don't think he sees you enough to notice either way. "you were on a date?"

"it was awful. she was vapid and boring and - and pretentious - and - and she wasn't you."

you suck in a breath, "steve..."

these were words from a man who did not love you, from a man that did not count you. they sounded an awful lot like the love he claimed he didn't feel.

suddenly, he cups your face, standing too close to you. this wasn't what friends did. this isn't how friends treated each other. you know that.

and then he kisses you. soft and tenderly. his lips mold against yours perfectly. you swear it's a sigh of relief that leaves his mouth when you don't pull away.

you smile against his lips. a sense of rightness overtakes you. he overwhelms you. he consumes you. he grips your waist tightly. the other hand caressing your cheek.

"steve.." you sigh against his lips.

and he freezes. his hands drop as though you burned him. his lips slightly swollen and shining from the kiss. he wipes his mouth, "i should go."

you shake your head. you don't want to believe that this is happening right now. this is steve. the person you loved with every fiber of your being. your friend. you trusted him. you believed in him. he wouldn't hurt you like that. even if he didn't love you, even as just a friend, he wouldn't take advantage of your love for him like that. "what?"

"i should go."

and he leaves without another word.

your heart isn't just broken anymore, it's crumbled into a million little pieces. you're not sure you'll ever be able to fix it.

1 week ago...

he's blown past all your defenses. he's drained every ounce of strength from you. he's taken everything except your broken heart and your love for him. that's all that's left of you.

to know him is to love him. to know him is to be broken by him.

he calls and this time, you answer. you fear him coming back to your apartment like he did before. your heart couldn't take it anymore.

"hi, steve." your voice is so gravelly and hollow, a shell of the fullness and life it used to contain.

you noticed everything about him. his likes, his dislikes. you could tell the day he was having by the way he said hi, by the sort of smile he gave you. you're not sure why you just realized that it's not reciprocated at all. he once told you he loved the sound of your voice, how could he not hear the broken tone? if he notices, which you're sure he doesn't, he doesn't ask.

you can hear the smile in his voice, "i'm so glad you answered."

you're not even sure that he realizes you've put the phone down. after all, you're just his space filler.

now...

you don't know why you're surprised he showed up at your door again. you're not surprised that you opened the door. you're not surprised that you let him back into your home. you're not even surprised that he's talking to you like everything is normal.

the only thing that takes you by surprise is your unwillingness to hear about the misadventures of his dating life.

"steve," you try to interrupt.

"and all i want -"

"steve."

"is for someone to really hear me, to see -"

"steve." you're surprised by the harshness in your own voice. his eyes flash over to you, widened slightly in shock. "you - you have to go now."

his brow furrow, he's taken aback. it occurs to you that he has no idea what he's done wrong. "why?"

"you know why," you spit at him.

"no, you said you understood. you said we could still be friends."

"friends?" you bitterly chuckle. "friends don't hurt their friends over and over again."

"i don't understand."

"that's the problem, steve. you don't get it. you don't get that i don't want to hear about the girls you date. you don't get that it hurts hearing you talk about what you're looking for in a woman. it hurts when call me at the end of the night because you want to hear my voice."

"they why do you answer the phone?"

"because i love you!" you hopelessly exclaim. "because i’ll do anything for you. i’ll do anything you say. and i think you know that."

"am i just supposed to know that you didn’t want to hear about them?"

"no girl wants that," you whisper. "no one wants to hear about everything they don’t have."

"i don't understand what's happening here. you promised me that you would always be in my life!" his accusing tone offends you far more than it should.

a tear slips down your cheek. "that was before."

"before? before what?"

each word hurts. he really doesn't know. he doesn't think about you at all. not as a consideration. not as a woman. not even as just a friend. he doesn't see you at all. "i can do this anymore. it’s too hard. i can - i can’t keep letting you break my heart."

"i told you that i didn’t feel the same. you knew i wasn’t in a space to - to reciprocate."

"and then you kissed me!"

he stiffens at the kiss that he refused to mention. all those nights he spent on the phone with you, talking to you. it was the one thing he never spoke about. "i - i know that wasn’t right. and i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i did that. i was hurting."

"you were hurting?" your breaths come out in fragments, with each heave of your chest you can hear the whistle of emptiness where your heart used to reside. "you - you knew how i felt and you knew you didn’t feel the same and you kissed me anyway."

"it was a mistake. i'm sorry."

your hands ball up in frustration, tear burn at the corners of your eyes. "it’s not just about the kiss. it’s - it’s everything. it’s you. you won’t let me go. let me move on. please."

steve staggers back, "i don’t- i'm not trying to hold on to you."

"why did you call me the other night?"

"because you’re my friend. you’re the person i wanted to talk to. you understand. you always understand."

"i don’t. i don’t understand. it crushed me."

he reaches out for your hand. hurt flashes in his eyes when you snatch it out of his reach. you can't let him blind you this time. "you’re always there for me. even when no one else is, you are."

you snort, "you don’t even know what you did wrong, do you?"

"you’re my best friend. i just - i wanted you hear your voice."

"you see? you keep messing with my head. you tell me that i'm the person you want to talk to at the end of the night. you tell people that i'm your soulmate. you tell me that you don’t feel the same. i tell you i want to move on. you kiss me. then you go on a date with another girl. when it doesn’t work out, you call me. i'm done. i can’t do this anymore. loving you is breaking me far beyond repair."

"i do love you."

you fervently shake your head over and over again, "you don’t mean that."

"i love you and i know it’s not in the same way but maybe - just give me time."

"time isn’t going to fix this. you don’t love me. you love the way i make you feel. you love being loved."

he scoffs, shooting a glare at you, "that’s not fair."

"no, it’s not," you agree. "and it’s not fair that you know how i feel and yet you just keep hurting me. you do it over and over again. and i keep letting you."

steve reaches for you again, "we can fix this."

you shake him off, striding to your door, opening it for him, "you should go."

"please," steve begs.

"goodbye, steve."

you don't know how you gather the strength to close the door on the man you love more than anything, let alone the man begging to stay in your life. the door clicks shut behind him.

a choked sob escapes your mouth as tears freely fall.

to know him is to love him, and you don't want to know a thing about steve rogers anymore.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[isokoin]

hi bub! i'd love to see miguel hc's about how he'd be for domestic stuff around the house. cooking/baking together, spending time together, cute things like that :D

miguel o'hara domestic headcanons

一 pairing; miguel o'hara x male reader

note: hi love, thank you for suggesting this. some soft content is a nice switch-up to what i usually put out. i hope you enjoy! ‹𝟹

🗯️ when you're cooking, miguel loves to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. he nuzzles his face into the back of your nape and places soft kisses on your skin.

🗯️ if you ask him to taste test, he takes a few more bites than he's meant to. one time you asked him to watch over your soup and when you came back he finished a bowl of it already. needless to say, you were quite pissed and every time you asked for his help, you'd take 30 second intervals to make sure the food isn't gone.

🗯️ miguel LOVES to clean. this man dislikes having a disorganized place to work, let alone live in. ask him to dust the shelves? got it. you point to the trash? it's already taken out. you don't even need to ask him, he just does it. this also stems from his love for you, as acts of service are one of the ways he shows love.

🗯️ ever since you started dating, there hasn't been a day where you've done groceries by yourselves. the both of you ALWAYS do it together and have agreed that it's more fun that way. of course, he pushes the cart and you're looking through the grocery list. you don't trust him to do it because he ends up getting the wrong item, especially since he does not read labels... get this man out of the kitchen!

🗯️ adding on, he carries the grocery bags in for you. he does this thing where he challenges himself as to how many he can hold. so far, his record is 20. how does that work? you don't know. he finds a way to do it and it impresses you, which is what he wants to do.

🗯️ miguel is more of a baker than you are. when you mention that you want to bake, he becomes a different person who actually reads labels and does everything with perfection.

🗯️ one time you playfully threw flour on him and he took it too far by dumping the rest on your head. it was pretty funny, but he spent more than an hour trying to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

🗯️ he keeps up with his telenovela's and always asks you to watch it with him. he even saves it for when you're home to watch it and its the sweetest thing ever. how you could you ever say no?

🗯️ miguel loves being little spoon. never thinking that he was the type to before you started dating, you're now glad he's able to feel safe around you to do so.

🗯️ he reads and loves reading to you. sometimes he randomly comes up to you and reads a line, expecting you to understand what he means. without context, its quite confusing. but you nod your head and agree with him, which he then replies with "right?! i knew you'd agree!" and walk away. you blink a few times to process what just happened and then go about your day like normal, but its such a common occurrence you've gotten used to it. its like a routine and you feel incomplete without him doing it.

🗯️ simply being in each other's presence is enough for both of you. you can do two different things while existing in the same space and the comfort of one another is what you cherish the most.

[berzahoes]

sing a song for you | tom blyth

summary: reader is on tour with hozier as his opening act and debuts a new song that tom helped write

an: yes this was because i am listening to hozier right now.

tom had taken some time off from doing interviews to finally attend one of your shows, well your opening act since you were on tour with one of your favorite artists, hozier. thankfully the show was near his brooklyn apartment so he didn’t have to drive far. he messaged you a couple of times but he knew you wouldn’t respond since you were busy preparing for the show.

when it was finally time to leave, tom made sure his apartment was locked and drove to the venue. as he parked his car, he quickly texted the cast group chat that he had arrived since rachel, josh and hunter were also attending. rachel texted back saying they were getting merch and that she had bought him one of your shirts.

before he could put his phone away, you called. “hey, i just arrived. rachel, josh and hunter are getting shirts.” he spoke into the phone.

“i could’ve given them free shirts. remind me to send them stuff later. sorry i didn’t text back. i just had the best conversation with beth about fleabag.” beth was your best friend and also your guitarist.

“you will take any opportunity to talk about fleabag and i love it.” tom smiled as he walked to the venue. he saw multiple people wearing homemade and official merchandise with your lyrics or logo and it made him happy.

“so i actually have a really important question.” you said.

“yes, love?”

“remember the song we made when you were filming billy the kid? i talked with the record label and it’s going on the next album,” you continue. “but i want to sing it tonight and the band said it was okay. and i want to ask you permission if it’s okay for me to sing it.”

“love, it’s your song. you don’t have to ask.” tom chuckled.

“yeah, but this song is half you half me. you’re getting writing credits on album, not just the song, tom. you helped a lot.” you reply.

“so does this mean if you win a grammy for the album, i will too?” he teased. “sing our song, i would be honored to hear you sing our song for the first time.”

“i love you.” you said then hung up.

“hello all of you lovely people!” you spoke into the microphone. the crowd cheered, tom being one of the many people that yelled the loudest. “you’ve been such a great crowd that i thought it would be a good time to sing a song that has never been heard by anyone other than me and the love of my life. he’s here tonight by the way along with our friends.”

you could feel yourself blush as tom yelled “i love you!”

“i love you more,” you replied. “he and i wrote this song in a day on the set of his show. thank you for being such a great crowd and i hope you all love this song as much as i loved writing it with my husband.” you smiled. you and tom would often call each other husband and wife even though you weren’t legally married. it was just a habit.

“that’s my wife!” tom yelled. rachel had gotten her phone out to record the performance and, of course, tom’s reaction.

watching the video that you sent me. the one where you’re showering with wet hair dripping

tom was amazed at your talent. he looked around the venue and saw how everyone was so focused on you. he then started to mumble the lyrics. he liked how you two were the only ones who knew the lyrics. it was your special moment. rachel had turned the camera from you to tom and noticed how in love tom looked. it was clear that you and tom were soulmates.

[r6eduss]

I really wish you’d make up your mind.

•Summary: Daryl comes over for a smoke, who knew things would get so deep? (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Drug use, a teeny tiny bit suggestive but no smut, mentions of abuse, Stoner!Reader, Angst.

•Word Count: 2.3k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth

•A/N: Heavily inspired by Kimdracula by deftones. I have always thought Daryl is deathly afraid of labels on relationships, so here’s me implementing that into my writing. I love writing for the commonwealth era also let’s also pretend deftones lines up with twd timeline 🫢

Tension.

Tension was always the main thing between you and Daryl. For the longest time since the farm, you two have had something—something that can’t be explained by just simple words.

The both of you have kissed before, but for some reason never have said anything of it. Most people thought you two were a couple, but you don’t know what you two are. one thing for sure, is that you love each other. Platonic or not, you both have always stuck out for each other and world knows Daryl would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you and the rest of his family alive and safe.

Though right now, you haven’t seen much of Daryl, and that’s surprising considering he was your neighbor. Everyone from Alexandria have still been settling in, and he’s been incredibly busy, so have you with your new job settlement.

Suddenly being employed in the apocalypse definitely left you stoked, but you kind of enjoyed it unlike Daryl and the others. It was a bittersweet feeling, left you thinking maybe the world still does have a chance.

With some of the hard earned money that you managed to work up, you decided to head to town looking for music. It’s always been a huge comfort for you, helping you overcome challenges you had to face even before the fall, and you hoped maybe they had some of your favorite albums. Your eyes were set on the storefront at the end of the block, and you soon approached. A sign hung above it, faded but clear. “The Record Shop” and a faint sound of music leaked through the door. On entering, hearing the door chime you’re greeted with a familiar face.

“Welcome!- Oh shit hey!” It was Princess’ shift today, and honestly it was rather refreshing to see her face, you haven’t seen really anybody else you had known.

Looking around for a moment, you take in the decorations. You soon face Princess, giving her a warm smile.

“Hey! How have you been?”

“It’s been great! It’s been great.. How about you?” She responded, excited to be speaking with you.

“I’ve been good! I’m glad things are going well for you Princess.” You were kind of lying, things weren’t really good for you.. it’s been hard adjusting to this kind of life, you’ve always felt as if the apocalypse saved you in a way.

“I’m happy for you dude! Well did you come here to buy something?”

“Yeah actually, do you guys have deftones?” You were hoping to god they did. You were in such a need to listen to your favorite album, and the last time you did was years ago.

You can see her lips curve into a small smirk, as she points to the left. “Yep! All the way to the last aisle on the left.”

You’ve never felt as happy as you felt now.

“Thanks!” You quickly pick up your feet, rushing to the aisle that Princess pointed to. Upon arrival, you quickly scan the area in attempts to find your favorite album “Saturday Night Wrist”.

All you could spot was Around the Fur and White pony as you sifted through the records, fingers brushing against the glossy covers, the album you were looking for nowhere in sight. To be honest, you were a little disappointed, until you spot that beautiful untouched record hidden behind one of the Metallica covers right next to the ones you were looking through. It was very obviously the last one in stock.

You bit your lip while smirking in happiness, grabbing the album and basking in it, the cover still haunting and beautiful just as you remembered. After about 30 seconds of reminiscing, you head to the checkout where Princess was.

“That all?”

“Yep!”

“That’s 30!”

You hand her a 20 and a 10, and she proceeds to print out your receipt. “It was so good seeing you! And hey, don’t be a stranger!” She hands you what you came there for, and waves you off with a grin. You politely tell her goodnight and make your way to your apartment.

A few days ago you had asked Daryl and Judith if you could borrow that record player he had bought for her, since you were planning on buying some music. Of course they agreed, so you knew exactly what you were doing when you got home.

Just as you got to your destination, you spotted Daryl walking up to his own apartment, quickly taking notice of you. “Hey Daryl.” You already felt a bit tense, Daryl looked incredibly exhausted.

“Hey.”

Well this was kind of awkward, you greeted him but didn’t really know how to continue the conversation, until an idea sprang through you. “I uh, finally bought some music. Wanna join me in listening and have a smoke?” He seems like he could use a get away, and you have just the remedies to relax him.

You watched as he looks down at the floor, biting the inside of his lip before responding while slightly nodding his head. “Yea, Yea sure. Ya stayin’ up?” He started to swirl his thumbs together, you always thought it was really cute when he did that.

“Yeah, for a bit. C’mon I’m so excited to unwrap this.” You used your key to unlock your apartment door and enter, leaving the door open for Daryl as he quickly proceeds behind you.

He closes the door behind you both, locking it and following you to your room. It was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of candles around. “Hold this.” You hand Daryl the vinyl, before walking over to your drawer, pulling out rolling paper, an herb grinder, a lighter, and some weed. “Sorry, give me a second to do this, then we can put the album on the record player.” He nods, and goes to sit down on the corner of your neatly folded bed.

You go about crushing the marijuana, feeling the uncomfortableness of the situation seep into you. You and Daryl haven’t seen each other in weeks, now all of a sudden you invited him in for a smoke?

The silence starts becoming painfully sharp, so you begin at your poor attempts at starting conversation. “So how have you been settling in?” He looks up, staring at your figure then at your face, watching your movements as you proceed to add the cannabis onto the rolling paper. “I’ve been ‘Ight.” Wow. Was he normally this bland?

“Hm, that’s good. How are the kids?” Please Daryl, give a response that you can actually open a conversation to.. “They been good. Judith is doin’ better than her whole class.”

Finally, something worth answering. Your heart warms up for a moment, remembering that the kids are finally getting a real experience of what school is. You and Daryl are both incredibly thankful that the children are going to have a chance at a semi normal childhood.

“I’m not surprised at all.. Judith is so smart.” You finished up rolling the joint, sealing it with a lick. You turn to face the man you’ve grown to love, passing it to him while taking the record out of his hands, pulling out the vinyl from its frame and heading to where the record player is. This entire situation has got you feeling excited, being able to finally listen to one thing you missed before the dead rose, and doing it with your favorite person. You carefully place it onto the record player, moving the tonearm and playing it.

The first song that played was Hole in the Earth, and it gave you a type of skin crawling sensation that you just couldn’t explain.

Turning to Daryl, you take back the joint and light it. If you weren’t so focused on what you were doing, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you, admiring everything you were doing, noticing how you felt when the music started playing, and being so entranced with how your hips swayed.

You took your first hit, soon after passing it to Daryl so he can also take a draw. He grabs the joint but he doesn’t bring it to his lips right away. He keeps his gaze on your face, looking you over before taking a deep inhale. He lets the smoke slowly spill from his mouth, while carefully making sure to blow it away from you. He passes it back to you, still maintaining eye contact. The tension was overbearing, and by the way he was looking at you, it was almost impossible not to feel flutters in your stomach.

The slow, moody guitar riff filling the space between you both accompanied with the scent of burning sage lingering in the air mixing with the sharp tang of weed, was making the tension rise all the more. You took a slow drag from the joint, eyes never leaving his, exhaling lazily and letting the smoke swirl between the two of you.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice light and teasing, catching the twitch of nerves in him. Daryl gave a small grunt, nodding and shifting his weight, his gaze flickering between your lips and the joint. He wasn’t used to moments like this—quiet, intimate.

You smiled gently, a little sly, while slowly leaning closer, feeling buzzed while the drug does its job. “Wanna shotgun it?”

Daryl swallowed hard. He wasn’t expecting something so bold, it’s not like you. But the idea of your lips so close, sharing the smoke between you, sent a ripple of emotion through him. So he gave you a nod, wanting more of this confident side of you.

You took another slow hit, eyes smoldering as you leaned in, lips barely parting. “Come here.” You whispered.

Daryl hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning forward, feeling the heat of your breath as you exhaled into his mouth, smoke filling his lungs. All he could focus on was how close you were, the smell of your hair, and how beautiful you looked.

Before either of you could stop, the moment stretched, and your lips hovered near his. There was a beat, then two, before instinct took over. You closed the gap, pressing your mouth softly against his. Daryl was left caught off guard, still kissing you back.

The music throbbed around you as the kiss deepened, a mixture of nerves and heat rising. The joint, forgotten and placed onto the ashtray as Daryl’s hand found its way on your back, pulling you closer.

The kiss lingered longer than either of you expected. Your lips were soft and tasted of marijuana. He found himself sinking into the warmth of the moment, the aroma that had been hanging between you dissolving into something he wasn’t sure how to handle. His hands, rough and scarred, tightened around your waist, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that surprised even him.

You kissed him slowly, as if you had all the time in the world, and Daryl could feel something stir inside him, something unfamiliar, almost unsettling. It wasn’t the impulsive thrill of survival, or the adrenaline of his attempts to protect himself from his father, it was something softer. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the warmth spreading through his chest, the vulnerability.

You pulled back just a little, breath still warm on his lips, and your forehead resting lightly against his. You smiled, eyes searching his to try and figure him out.

Suddenly, it hit him.

He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t built for it. The closeness, the intimacy, the unspoken understanding in the way you looked at him. He was a man of instinct, not one for quiet moments that left him raw and uncertain. He wasn’t sure what he expected when your lips first met, but this— whatever this was, was way more than he could handle.

Daryl blinked, pulling back a few inches, breaking the connection between you. His hand, still on your waist, fell away, as if it had become too heavy to hold them there any longer.

“I— I cant.” He muttered, the words rough, barely forming in his throat. He stood up abruptly, moving his wavy locs from his face, stepping back as if the space between you could somehow shield him from the feelings creeping up inside him.

You looked up at him, confused. “What are we Daryl?” He can’t just kiss you then walk away? What was this?

“I don’t know.” He responded low, looking at the ground, anywhere but your face. You could hear your favorite song begin to play on the record player, this is not how you would’ve wanted to enjoy it for the first time in years.

“I should get goin’” he mumbled, already heading for the door.

You didn’t stop him, instead, feeling the tears swell up in your eyes, you responded with a simple “okay”.

He paused at the door, his hand resting at the handle. He could hear the sadness in your voice, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. If he did, he might see something in your eyes that would make it even harder to walk away.

“I’ll see ya ‘round,” he muttered, before leaving your room and heading for your front door, exiting your apartment. You began to cry, feeling confused and angry, sitting alone in your room listening to your song, comforting you, just like it did before the fall. As Daryl was still processing it all, the night air hit him, clearing his mind a bit but not enough to shake this unfamiliar weight in his chest.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, all he knew was that it was too much, too real, and it scared him. He wasn’t the type to let anyone in, and yet, in that small dim lit room, he had felt something that had shook him to his core.

But for now, he pushed it down, like he always did, and walked away.

@vampiresluv

[moonchildstyles]

I saw you were talking about curious gazes stuff.... is citrine a part of that group 🧍‍♀️

wordcount: 2.6k+

——————

Parker kept his eyes on his phone, rereading his new text notification over and over even when the bell above his head jingled as he walked through the door of the record shop. 

Annie asked if he was going to be at Vera's party tonight. She asked him if she could go with him.

His cheeks almost ached from the width of the smile on his face. Maybe tonight would be the night—maybe he'd finally get the courage to ask her on a real date instead of all these friendly group outings. 

Parker pulled his gaze up only when he heard the familiar voice of the shop attendant, catching the wide smile on the man's face. It was the same man every time Parker came in, his name starting with an H (it was Harry, or Henry, or something in that universe but he could never remember and felt too shy to ask for clarification at this point). He knew so much about all of the records and the artists behind them, it was always interesting when Parker wasn't in too much of a rush and could talk to the guy. 

"Good afternoon! How are you?" he asked, the glimmering fabric of his top shimmering from the light spilling in from the large windows. 

"I'm good, man. Thanks," Parker greeted, feeling infectiously happy at the moment, "How are you?" 

"I'm doing really well, thank you," Harry (maybe?) said, dimples in his cheeks, "Are y'looking for anything specific today?" 

Shrugging, Parker shook his head. "Not really, just wanted to look and see if I can find something new." 

Harry perked up at the sound of something new being in need, a dark curl falling over his forehead. "We got a bunch of second hand records in the other day. It's mostly older albums, but 'm sure there's something you'd like. Let me know if you want any help or have any questions." 

Typically, Parker wouldn't mind asking a few questions, especially about the more vintage artists and pressings around the shop, but his mind was still buried deep in his phone. "I will, man. Thanks." 

With that, Parker drifted between the shelves that marked out the aisles in the small shop. Huddled between a pair of shelves holding different records and elaborate displays with special edition pressings, he pulled his phone out once again. Annie's thread was still open, her two texts shining in a beautiful, shining, hopeful blue. 

ur going to v's tngiht right ? 

if u want we could go together :) 

He'd never seen a string of letters look so perfect. It was like he was reading poetry. 

His fingers held a tremor as he texted her back. He attempted to play it cool, but of course he wanted to go with her. He would have given anything to enter that party under the label of being together with Annie. 

Sure! I have to do some homework tonight, but I'll be heading over there at around eight. Does that work for you? 

Shooting off the message, Parker felt conflicted about staring and waiting for the messages to be read with another set of preemptive bubbles filling where her next message would be, or locking his phone and not being so desperate for a single text. 

When the receipts didn't immediately switch to show that it had been read with another time stamp, Parker forced himself to lock the screen and shove his phone back into his pocket. Around him, colorful records asked to steal his attention, to put him back on track and remind him why he came to the shop in the first place. 

It was his sister's birthday next week and he wanted to pick out a couple of records for her since their mom was gifting her a player as well. (And, there was an album or two Parker had been looking at that he really hoped the shop carried). Forcing his mind off of his phone, he took his time perusing through the shelfs for anything special he knew she liked before he would start looking through the crates for something vintage she could brag to her friends about. 

Across the space, the bell dinged again, another customer stopping by. 

Instead of the usual greeting Harry offered to all guests, Parker heard a giddy sigh of, "Sunshine!" ring from the head of the shop. 

Lifting his gaze from where he was examining a record cover laden with roses and glimmering gold font, he saw a woman with a beaming smile making her way towards the register area. A plastic takeaway bag hung from her elbow, her hair pulled back with her outfit consisting of a logo'd shirt and black pants. The logo was familiar, from a restaurant deeper in the plaza that had margaritas that were a little too strong but cheap enough it didn't matter. 

"Hi, Harry," she greeted, opening her arms as Harry met her halfway and reciprocated her hug. 

The plastic bag crinkled over his shoulder but neither of them paid the food any mind as they wrapped around each other. Quiet whispers were shared between them, Harry's curls creating a small curtain so Parker couldn't even see what kind of reaction these secrets pulled from the newcomer. 

Instead, Parker only got to hear the sound of her laugh as she drew away from the hug. He felt a bit bad as he kept watching, but even when they shared a small kiss, he couldn't pull his eyes away. 

Harry had mentioned more than once these small details about his wife, interjecting that she loved a certain album, or that she recommended something new to him that he was now letting others in on. Truthfully, with who Harry was—so eccentric, extroverted in an introverted way, and seemingly from a different time—Parker had imagined his wife to be completely different than to who was standing before him. 

This woman seemed... normal. 

Not that it was a bad thing, or that Harry wasn't, but she wasn't draped in lace and gauze with jewels and glitter following her every step. She looked like she belonged in this century. 

He turned his attention back to the record in his hand a split second before she would have caught his stare. Though there was a track list right before him, he didn't read a single word, feeling a bit flustered knowing he had just witnessed what was most likely a private moment between the two of them. 

Parker couldn't help the way his mind went back to Annie. 

Would she visit him during her lunch? Would they embrace like that, without a care? What kind of secrets would she share with him? 

He couldn't help the minute check he made to his phone screen. 

No new notifications. 

Folding his phone back into his pocket, Parker directed his focus back onto his shopping. Meandering back towards the crates, he started flicking through the alphabetized stacks. 

With only a quiet album playing on the shop's record player—something crackly and old he didn't recognize but didn't mind—, he could hear the murmurings of the couple now huddled behind the register counter together. Though he didn't mean to eavesdrop, he didn't particularly try hard not to either. 

Straining an ear, he heard their hushed conversation over the music and quiet rustling of the plastic bag. 

"I can come back later, or save this for dinner," the woman said, "I don't want you to get in trouble, honey." 

"'S fine, dove, really," Harry insisted, his smile audible, "I know him—he's really nice. He won't mind, I promise. If he needs my help, I'll help." 

"But, H—" she tried again, only to be abruptly cut off. 

Maybe it was the romance on his mind, but Parker wondered if the soft sound he heard was another quiet kiss they shared. Harry's tactic to get his wife to let go of the argument. 

"It'll be fine, I promise. I've missed you all day, I don't want you to leave already." 

A plume of laughter could be heard alongside the laying out of styrofoam containers. The scent of warm food drifted through the shop. Parker's stomach piqued at the smell, reminding him the last time he ate was during breakfast. 

Maybe Annie would want to stop and get some dinner before the party. Or go for a late night snack after. 

Harry's wife's laugh pulls him out of the possibilities he was beginning to churn before he'd even received a text back. 

"We spent all morning together before you came here," she countered, her tone a gentle tease. 

"So?" Harry argued, quietly serious under his own joking tone, "'S not enough, and I've told you that before." 

A beat passed, the rustling of the bag filling the moment. "Well, I only have forty-five minutes left of my lunch, so you better make the most of it." 

Another set of hushed conversation sounded, words too quiet for him to hear. Parker figured with the scolding Harry! that left the wife's lips, he didn't really want to hear what had made them go quiet anyway. 

A vibration from his back pocket had Parker practically scrambling to reach for his phone and get the screen to light up.

Annie had texted him back. 

sounds good (: 

if its isnt to late by the time we r leavig we should get food or something 

Parker's heart just about soared right out of his chest towards the record player, the beats wishing to play their own love song in Annie's name. 

They were going to get food or something tonight, just like he hoped. 

Was this love? 

I was thinking the same thing! I'll see if I can finish up any sooner than eight, but I'll let you know when I'm on my way:) 

 There was so much Parker needed to do. 

Now the priority wasn't the set of essays he was planning on editing before he got ready for Vera's. These plants were now shifted, urging him to skip cleaning his apartment and instead rushing home to do his work then agonize over getting ready for the remainder of the evening. The cowlick on the crown of his head that had his hair sticking in weird places after every shower was going to be his prime enemy today. 

Focusing on the records before him, Parker skimmed through before grabbing a Fleetwood Mac album his sister would either love or let become a statement piece about how much of an old soul she was. Turning back to the shelves he reached for a foiled album, the band's name one he recognized but only vaguely through his sister's Spotify. He wasn't familiar with the artwork, but hopefully this was a good one. 

These two would have to do for now. If he needed to find a third, he'd do it later. Annie was waiting for him (in six hours, but the urgency still mattered). 

Taking his tiny stack to the register, he saw the bubbly couple huddled together sharing a container of French fries with their own respective sandwiches. When the woman realized Parker was approaching, she startled in her spot, immediately moving to get their meal out of the way of the register. 

"Sorry, sorry," she said, covering her mouth as she swallowed down the bite she'd taken just as he emerged from the shelves. Harry watched with a fond quirk to his lips though he didn't make any move to assist her move. 

"'S alright, love," he attempted to soothe her. While Harry was always purely friendly and full of a kind and giving spirit, Parker had never heard his voice take on the notes it did now. This man was in love with his wife—everything she did was special to him. 

"I don't mind," Parker jumped in, settling his records on the clear area of the desk, "I get it." 

"See, (Y/N)?" Harry pointed out, though he did begin straightening up and tapping at the register keys, "I told you he was cool." 

The woman—(Y/N), the name said with a reverence—didn't pay Harry's argument any mind, continuing to move their boxes out of the way for Parker. Harry shook his head, his green eyes lighting up with every glance her way. 

"You find everything alright?" Harry asked, sliding the records towards the inlaid scanner on the desk. Before Parker had a chance to answer, he saw Harry's face light up when he spotted the Fleetwood Mac record. "I didn't know you listened to them! Is this your favorite album?" 

Holding up the beige cover, complete with a familiar woman in pointe shoes and an unfamiliar man at her side, Harry looked to him with expectant eyes. 

"Um, this is actually a gift for my sister," Parker explained, feeling a bit bashful now that he let down Harry. "It's her birthday next week, and my mom is getting her a record player. I don't really listen to older music." 

Casting his gaze down at the album cover, Harry pursed his lips. "I guess it did come out in '77—feels like it was only last year, I forget sometimes." 

Parker canted his head. That was one of those things about Harry that had him assuming he was meant to exist long before this time. It wasn't the first time he made a comment like that. 

"If she likes that album," (Y/N) piped up from where she had stepped back to lean against the back counter, "you should get her some Stevie Nicks albums. She'd love them." 

Harry perked up with a smile on his lips, though he stayed quiet as he typed a few numbers into the register before the total popped up on Parker's end. 

"She's the singer from Fleetwood Mac, right?" Parker asked, sliding his card into the reader, "I didn't know she had her own music." 

"She's the best," Harry interjected, his words a clear praise of his idol, "Even if your sister doesn't get into it, y'should still try it out. Y'won't regret it." 

Maybe Annie would like some of this kind of music. They could have a song if they found one they both liked.

The idea had Parker giddy once more, itching to head home and prepare for the night.

"I'll have to come back then and see what you recommend," Parker said, grabbing his carefully bagged records with the receipt tucked inside, "Thanks, Harry. It was nice to kind of meet you, by the way"—his eyes moving to Harry's wife—"He talks about you all the time." 

The smile that stretched along her features was like the sunshine her husband named her after—bright and eclipsing. 

Though they were small, the things Parker picked up between the two had his heart softening in places he didn't know could soften. A love like that must be consuming in the sweetest way.

Annie was all that was swirling through his mind. 

"He does?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes drifting towards her husband. He only shrugged in response, a bashful set to his features with blushing cheeks. 

"See you next time," Harry said, biting back his dimpled smile as he bid Parker goodbye. 

Tossing a wave over his shoulder, Parker drifted towards the door, his precious phone sliding into his hand on instinct. His heart jumped when he saw a text from Annie. 

perf ! excited to see u (: 

His heart rocketed into his throat at the small string of words. Just before he left the shop, Parker didn't think before he was looking over his shoulder and catching Harry pressing a loving kiss to his wife's lips. 

He wanted a love like that. Hopefully, that will start tonight. 

——————

:))))) thank u sm for all the excitement about this pov I hope everyone likes it! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any fun ideas!

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

The Albatross decoded

(as requested by @asteracaea's anon, just wanted this for my records too. I hope you see it)

It starts with 'Wise men once said' so immediately we know it's some old white men wisdom, so probably some BS... "Wild winds are death to the candle" isn't a saying I've heard before but English is also not my first language. I'd take it to mean a wild unruly person will destroy something delicate and fragile, just like a strong wind will blow out a candle. As warnings are being issued here, I assume that they are warning the person about this woman because she's known for being a 'wild wind'. The warning then continues into the 'Rose by any other name...' line. Just to make it perfectly clear that it's the MEN who are saying it's a scandal, not Taylor. Taylor knows it's a rose. At least twice on this album does she refer to kissgate as a scandal and with such venom that I'm very sure that that's what the old white men at her label told her it was at the time. And she's still angry about it (as she should!).

In the chorus we have "Cross your thoughtless heart/ Only liquor anoints you" Crossing your heart means you're making a promise to tell the truth, similar to a pledge or a pinky promise. And adding 'thoughtless' would imply she wants the other person to make this promise without any fear or consideration of the possible consequences. So, basically, "promise me something sincerely without thinking too much about it". Only liquor anoints you - Anointment is part of religious ceremonies and is usually done with holy oil to either improve someone's health or make them a saint. It's also done when kings and queens are crowned and I think that's the meaning here. The other person is being raised up to be a monarch or a saint, but with alcohol instead of holy oil. Personally, these two lines convinced me that Taylor is talking to her lover here, because asking for a sincerely promise, almost like a vow, and in return making the other person your king/queen is all very soft and romantic. Very 'King of my heart'. 😉 (and note that she's not saying I'M here to destroy you, she saying OTHER people will tell you that I'm going to destroy you)

In the second verse we're back to what the 'wise men' are saying and this time it's the bad seed that kills the garden (kinda self-explanatory) and then "One less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen". First they were warning the lover and now they're clearly trying to keep them apart by saying that this woman (Taylor) is a bad influence or a temptation. Not sure if I would call this a literary reference, but it's noteworthy that lesbians in early media portrayals (the days of the Hays Code) were often shown as predatory or evil women who would seduce the good straight girls and turn them gay... bad seed/temptress indeed.

Then we have an add on chorus with "Devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger". This is in fact a saying "Better the devil you know" which means it's better to choose the bad thing you already know over a new one, because you're already used to this one. But again, in this context it's flipped (she does this a lot). In this case, the devil you know is in fact WORSE than a stranger. So they're saying to her lover 'this devil of yours is worse hell and you'd be better off with a stranger' adding to the above warnings, and then they're also adding the warning "You're in terrible danger/She's the death you chose". Boy oh boy, they really didn't want them to be together, very Romeo and Juliet indeed...

Ok, the bridge: "And when that sky rains fire on you/ And you're persona non grata/ I'll tell you how I've been there too And that none of it matters". -> All these warnings are coming to fruition and the sky is now 'raining fire' on her lover. Something bad has happened and they are persona non grata, which is Latin for an unwelcome person, but more commonly used to say the worst person you can think of. So, her lover is in the eye of the storm and is seen as the guilty person, but Taylor tells her that she's been through the same before and it doesn't matter. Like she said in her Lavender Haze video, "We just ignore it and protect the real stuff."

The third verse gives details about what the fire storm mentioned above actually was (just for context, I know you didn't ask about that): some people read some fake news about her lover and came after her because they believed it. The "Jackles raised their hackles" and being dragged from your bed at night very much gives witch hunt imagery, which is a cool choice for two reasons: 1) like the 'witches' her lover is innocent and wrongly convicted of a crime, and 2) all 'witches' were women. 😉

In the last chorus, of course, Taylor's albatross becomes the rescuing angel that swoops in to save her lover from being burned at the stakes. The devil becomes the angel and the anti hero becomes the hero. She says "I'm the life you chose and all this terrible danger". This reminds me of peace: Yes, the life you chose with me comes with shit storms sometimes ('would it be enough if I can never give you peace?') but I will always rescue you if I have to.

(And this part hasn't happened yet, one reason why I love this song so much, it feels like such a sneaky insight into things yet to come, same as FOTS and the Alchemy 😊)

So, there you go, hope this helped, never ask long questions if you don't want long answers ;)

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 13

A/N: Woof. This one took me a minute. Also, it's a short bridge-type chapter, but don't worry. Next chapter will be LONG and JUICY. This is just a necessary part of the story. Please don't give up on us! ICYMI this is the soulmate/time travel AU between Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: cussing and angst (a smut-free chapter?! Who am I?! Don't worry. It's coming soon and they will be too 😏)

Word count: ~1.9k

"Why didn't she come for me?"

******

Elvis spends the next few weeks anxiously waiting for you to show up somewhere. It's clear his mind is elsewhere. Everyone around him notices that something is off, but he won't tell anyone what's going on. He just prowls around like a caged animal, nervous and waiting for something that no one understands. He goes back to Memphis before he has to be back in Vegas in August to film his concert documentary. The only thing that gets him out of his room is Lisa Marie. Otherwise, he mopes around or stays inside.

What no one knows is he's grieving. He's pretty sure he's lost you and his son too. The pain almost overwhelms him and he has a hard time living in his real life. He finds solace in music and spends a lot of time at the piano playing a whole catalogue of new songs. His favorite, though, is a song produced by the Beatles' record label, and he eventually asks to record it later that summer. It ends up on his album for the documentary That's the Way It Is and even makes it into a rehearsal scene with him playing it on the piano and singing. For some reason, the song makes him think of you, so he sings it as often as he can.

Even though it begins to look like he's back to himself, the pain of losing you is omnipresent. He resigns himself to the fact that he will likely never see you or his son ever again. As such, he leans into the documentary and even does a photo shoot with Priscilla over Thanksgiving to try to rekindle the affection he feels for her.

But he still feels like part of his soul has gone missing. It's the same old feeling he always has when he's away from you for too long, but this time it settles in his chest and becomes a part of him. 1970 slips into 1971 and he does his best to move on. 1971 slips into 1972 and he throws himself into work and lets his relationship with Priscilla sour. She moves out and he has a hard time even caring, except that she took Lisa Marie and it just twists the dagger of having already lost one child. There are other girls, like there always have been, but they never fill the void that you leave. He has a you-shaped hole in his heart that no amount of sex or romance or even love can fill. 1972 slides by, he films Elvis on Tour, and he plays shows across the United States. He plays Vegas again and then tours again, hoping that by keeping himself busy he'll notice your absence less.

Finally, he prepares for the Aloha from Hawaii concert that will be broadcast across the world. He tries to get back into peak physical shape and does everything he can to throw himself fully into this concert. In the process, he squashes the last hope of you ever showing up again. It's been three years.

You're gone.

******

Covid hits strong in 2020 and your world gets upended. You learn to work from home, host zoom call happy hours with your friends (even though you're pregnant and can't drink), and wear a mask anytime you're in public, which isn't often. In September, you give birth (alone and in a mask) to your daughter and name her Erin Love. She's perfectly healthy and looks so much like her brother you think you've given birth to his twin. And again you weep. Elvis is missing this and you know it'll break him if he ever finds out.

2020 fades into 2021 and you still can't risk going out with a baby. Every time you start to think it might be safe, a new strain or variant shows up and the world cowers in fear again. Vegas opens, but you're terrified, both of traveling and of the possibility of sending Covid back to 1971.

So, you wait. You wait and you wait and you keep waiting until your baby is old enough and the virus seems to slow down. Still, Vegas, with its masses of people, seems too risky. Finally, in December of 2022 you have an idea. You start making plans to head to Hawaii with both kids and your mom in January of 2023. Hawaii is much more secluded and you know exactly where he will be.

When you ask your mom to come with you, she wants to know why. This is going to be a very expensive vacation and she's not sure why you need her. You sit on her couch trying to decide just how much you should tell her. Eventually, you settle on something very close to the truth.

"John is there. We haven't seen each other in three years." You look down at the ring on your finger.

"I was starting to wonder if he still existed."

"I'm not even sure he'll want to see me..." You look at the ceiling to try to stop yourself from crying, but it doesn't work and the tears come sliding down your face.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm sure he does. He loves you."

"I hope so." She pulls you into a hug.

"I will go with you. I'll watch the kids so you two can get reacquainted."

"Thank you, mom."

Once she agrees to go with you, you drop an ungodly amount of money to stay in his suite and pack up both kids to fly to the islands. You decide not to tell John Jessie why you're going, just in case it doesn't work out. He's almost 6 now and he asks about his daddy damn near everyday. Somehow, he remembers him despite the fact that it's been almost 3 years since he's seen him. Erin's too little to ask questions. She doesn't even know she has a daddy, which breaks your heart every time you think about it.

******

After a rehearsal, Elvis heads to his suite to rest. He's 100% invested in what he's doing. But out of nowhere, he thinks of you again. He hums the song he's designated as yours and goes to work changing out of his jumpsuit.

He's got the zipper all the way down when he hears a sound that makes his heart stop. There it is, the old familiar buzzing. He hasn't heard it in so long. He turns slowly, sees the portal, and practically runs through it without thinking about the fact that he has no clothes packed and is wearing a jumpsuit.

******

When Elvis comes through the portal, he stops and stares at you. He's so in shock that he doesn't know how to respond. Your mouth pops open in awe of him standing there in the American Eagle jumpsuit fully unzipped. He looks better than you could've imagined. Obviously, you've seen the footage, but it really didn't do him justice. He zips it back up and gives you a hard stare.

"It's been three fucking years, y/n."

"I know-" You don't get any further though because John Jessie comes bounding into the room. He runs to Elvis and jumps on him. He's supposed to be napping with your mom in one of the bedrooms.

"Daddy! I heard you!" Elvis grabs him and holds him tightly.

"Heyyy buddy, I missed you so much!" You can tell he's trying hard not to cry. You look nervously towards the bedroom. If your mom sees him in this jumpsuit, it'll be impossible to explain.

"Bubby, where's your grandma?"

"She's asleep." You breathe easier and John Jessie turns back to his daddy. He launches into a monologue that only a 5-year-old can follow, but Elvis sits with him on the couch and listens attentively. You stand and watch the scene and Elvis glances at you every once in a while.

After about 15 minutes, you hear Erin cry from the room where she is taking her nap. Elvis looks up at you, shocked.

"Who is that?"

"That's my sister. She's little still." John Jessie answers knowingly. Elvis's head swivels to you so fast.

"Sister?" You nod and duck out of the room to grab Erin before her crying wakes your mom up. When you come back, Elvis looks at both of you and his eyes are shiny with tears. "Is she-?"

"She's yours." He stands up and immediately takes her from you.

"What's her name?"

"Erin Love."

"Love? Like my..." He trails off and looks at her lovingly.

"Yes. Like your mother." He holds her to himself and looks up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. He pulls back and looks at her again while she babbles to him.

"Baby, do you know I'm your daddy?" She looks up at him.

"Daddy?"

"Yes!" She smiles widely and he holds her close to him again. He looks at you incredulously.

"We have another baby."

"Yes, we do." He kisses her cheek and sets her down on the floor, turning to you. His eyes burn through you and he whispers angrily.

"Where the fuck have you been?! We have a daughter?!"

"Please, Elvis, I can explain."

"You better. I'm going to spend the evening with my kids, but you better have a damn good story when they go to bed."

You nod. How will you get him to understand Covid?

******

He changes into some clothes you have for him and helps you put the kids to bed. Despite not knowing the routine, he proves to be pretty helpful. You're amazed at how well John Jessie remembers him. Your mom seems to just know she should make herself scarce through the whole evening and stays in the room. Once you get both kids in bed, you sit on the couch facing him, heart pounding and stomach in knots. He looks at you with a mixture of sadness and anger.

"Tell me why, y/n."

"There is a new virus." You desperately try to explain everything that's happened over the last three years.

"So you couldn't come to me because of a cold virus?"

"Elvis, you don't understand. This was a global pandemic. Everything was closed and people all around the world were dying. They literally shut down Las Vegas."

"I've been other places." He responds, the anger in his voice obvious.

"I know, but I couldn't risk our kids. Or the possibility of you taking this virus back to your time. I finally feel safe here in Hawaii."

"I don't know, y/n, I'm glad you're okay and I'm especially excited to see the kids. But I thought I'd lost you. I buried you in my mind."

"Did you- did you move on?" For the first time, the reality that your marriage to Elvis might be over hits you in the gut and your eyes widen. Elvis isn't sure how to answer. He has a girlfriend, and technically another wife. But he looks at you sitting in front of him and can't help but feel the connection that's bound you together for over fifteen years. He wants to be angry so badly, but really all he is is sad. Sad that he missed the first two and a half years of his daughter's life. Sad that he went so long without all of you. Sad that you almost feel like a stranger now.

You sit on the couch staring at each other waiting for his answer.

******

Come back soon for Chapter 14!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @tacozebra051 @deltafalax

[aceof-stars]

Manfred von Karma!

Thank you for the ask <3 (to every else who sent me a character ask, I'm working on it :)

First impression

I actually never hated him or had strong feelings about him. I was introduced to AA through narumitsu fanfic but I knew I wanted to play the games so I avoided everything with spoilers, including everything Manfred. I guess I just thought of him vaguely as a villain and Miles' mentor/father figure.

Impression now

He's one of my favorite Ace Attorney characters. I have him at 4th but honestly, maybe he's 3rd now?? I have developed an attachment to this ridiculous evil man. I love him so much. I wish there was more canon content of him, but I think he's an interesting character with a lot of room for nuance.

Favorite moment

He doesn't really have many canon moments (and I haven't played AAI). But probably when he gloated Phoenix into cross-examining Polly the parrot and it's implied that he witness-coached a parrot. Manfred, you are an insane person.

Idea for a story

I just want to see a story where Manfred is force-fed a redemption arc. Like for example a no DL-6 AU where Gregory manages to get a Manfred properly investigated for forging evidence. But to ensure he doesn't get another penalty, Manfred tries to frame another prosecutor to throw Gregory off his trail.

Only, Manfred finds out that the person he is framing is actually guilty of forging evidence. Manfred has to follow through with his plan and gets dragged into working with Gregory. Gregory is surprised but grateful that Manfred has been so helpful in weeding out corruption in the prosecutor's office, and wants to befriend/ally with Manfred. Manfred is seething with hatred. (Oh and eventual Shingou :)

Unpopular opinion

Manfred as a character deserves a lot more nuance. There's... a lot to talk about but these are the three main things I have a strong opinion on:

1) He was a flawed parent and I think it's more interesting to explore those flaws than to just label him abusive for the sake of villainizing him.

2) It does not makes sense for Manfred to be sexist/homophobic/etc. Simply because I don't think he cares enough to hate a group of people like that. He is very rational, efficient, and his perfectionism is focused on his prosecuting career. If anything, he discriminates against defense attorneys (lmao).

3) Manfred didn't brainwash or force Miles into becoming a prosecutor. I'm sure Manfred was influential but Miles had his own reason to be a prosecutor that stemmed from DL-6. Miles was also always a perfectionist (the paper cranes thing) and the von Karma family brand of perfectionism just amplified it.

Favorite relationship

Shingou!! <3 (Gregory Edgeworth/Manfred von Karma)

Defense attorney/prosecutor ship, toxic enemies to lovers, doomed romance, or super slowburn (if no DL-6 AU), bitter courtroom rivals turned bickering old married couple (who still duke it out in court), co-parenting Miles and Franziska (before officially getting together).

Favorite headcanon

Manfred did love Franziska and Miles (in his own way). Regarding Miles, Manfred saw him as a symbol of his failures (the penalty Gregory gave him and the shot in his shoulder). So Manfred struggled a lot when he began to actually care about Miles. When Miles's perfect record was broken, Manfred saw it as a threat to his own perfection. (I hope that makes sense. I do need to think about this more to solidify the headcanon. I just love complicated von Karma family dynamics)

[louloulemons-posts]

Could you do a Eddie fic where him and Reader go on a date (You can chose where) and it's just like super fluffy

Twinkling Lights

Eddie Munson X Reader

Word Count : 1k

Warnings : not proofread, it’s just pure festive fluff, eddie snacks readers bum?, it’s so cute i can’t, i am so ready for christmas 🥲

A/N : i decided as it’s the first of december today that i’d make this into a cute little christmas-y fic.

this is also set a few years after the events of s4 so eddie is around 25/26. hope you enjoy!

- lou 🫶🏻

1K Celebration Found Here

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Come on!” you said, almost jumping out of the van before it stopped. “Jesus Sweetheart let me park first,” Eddie said with a laugh.

“We’ve gotta get a good one Eds!” you said, not being able to control the volume of your voice with excitement, you practically screamed.

“Okay, but we’ve gotta wrap up first.”

“Ugh,” you groaned.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie gave you a stern look.

“Fine.”

The boy hopped out the van, walking round to your side, not allowing you to ever open the door for yourself. “Gloves?” he asked.

“Check,” you replied, showing your gloved covered hands.

“Scarf?”

“Check.” The thick wool wrapped around your neck. “Hat?”

“Check,” you spoke, pulling it on.

“And zipper is,” he pulled the zip of your jacket upwards, “done. Let’s get our tree.”

The pair of you walked hand in hand into the Christmas tree farm. Snow crunching below your boots, it was the perfect December day. “It smells so good!” you said, taking a big inhale. “It does, the apartments gonna smell great.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Remember bubby, six foot.”

“But-“

“No buts, it’ll scratch the ceiling otherwise.”

“Fine,” you said, pulling him to where the 6 foot trees were labelled.

The curly haired boy couldn’t help but smile at you as you gasped at all of the pretty trees. It was just beautiful. You were beautiful.

Walking around the trees, you inspected the branches, trying to find the perfect on. “What about this one?” Eddie asked, pulling on forward.

You looked at it, scrunching your brows as you inspected it. “It’s got pieces missing in the side, when it drops down it’ll look funny.”

“Okay boss. Let’s try another one?”

You laughed at the term of endearment, pecking his cheek. “Your nose is freezing,” he said. “They need to make nose gloves I’m telling you Eds!”

It went like this for a while. Too tall. Too skinny. Too bare. Half dead. Already dropping. Too many needles.

“Sweetheart we’ve been here for ages, come on,” Eddie whined.

“I told you we need the perfect tree. It’s our first one together!”

“It’s not.”

“Okay the first of ours in our apartment. Our first home.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck you sighed, “Just want it to be perfect.”

“I know you do bubby, and it will be no matter what.”

Nodding, your lips fell into a slight pout, which he kissed away with ease. “What about that one?” he said.

Turning around you saw a tree that had been previously hidden, until a young family too the one in front of it. “Oh Eddie-“

“It’s perfect right?”

Not too tall. Not too short. Not too full. Not too skinny. Not spikey. Not dropped.

“Sniff test?” the boy asked.

“Sniff test,” you nodded. The pair of you lent forward to take in a breath of it. “That’s the one!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Too the left a bit. A little more. Stop! That’s perfect, let me do the screws.” You dropped to your knees, turning the screws in the tree stand whilst Eddie held it straight.

“So, can we decorate now?”

“Mhm, but first.” You ran to your record player, hitting the button to make it play.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

“Let’s decorate!”

The lights were first, spinning them round and round, you and Eddie ducked and climbed over each other. “They look great!”

They shone brightly, lighting up the room beautifully.

Eddie kissed your head, “First decoration for you,” he said, handing you one of your childhood ornaments, a glass reindeer. You hung it up as high as you could, making sure it has branches below to rest on.

The baubles didn’t take too long, along with the more decorative ornaments. Red and gold covered the tree, with santas here and there. Some handmade decorations that were a bit tacky, but cute.

“Last thing to do,” You smiled, pulling the star out of the box. “Mr Munson, for you.” Placing it in his hand, Eddie pulled you close, “Together.”

You jumped up on Eddies back, one of his hands holding on tight to support you, whilst the other reached up to the top of the tree with your own. The star perched on the top.

His other hand came to hoist your thigh, your head resting on his. “It’s so perfect,” you smiled, squeezing him. “It really is.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Sweetheart.”

“Now! More decorations!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The tree was just the start, there were garlands strung everywhere, twinkling lights, a wreath on the door, a nutcracker by the fire. Along with two stockings, one with yours and Eddies initials on. Even your pillows and blankets on your couch were now replaced with festive ones.

You squealed, clapping your hands. “Oh this is so great.”

“I have to admit it looks fantastic.”

“Told you I’d make you into a Christmas lover, you big grinch.”

The boy grinned at you, holding your waist, leaning down to peck your lips. “I think we deserve a treat now, don’t you think?” he asked.

“A treat?”

“Cocoa sound good?”

“Cream and marshmallows?”

“And a Christmas movie.”

“Oh I love you.”

“I know you do, now pick a movie,” he said pecking your lips, then swatting your bum lightly.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“This is so not a Christmas movie!” Eddie laughed as he saw Edward Scissorhands on the TV. “If it has snow it’s a Christmas movie.”

“Oh is that the rule?”

“Mhm.” The boy just shook his head with a grin, handing you your cocoa in a rudolph mug. Cream and marshmallows on the top.

Humming as you took a sip, “This is delicious.”

“Mucky one,” Eddie said, kissing cream off your nose.

Soon enough you were wrapped in Eddies embrace, fire burning and tree shining. Your head was on his chest, snuggled under a blanket together. Cosy and warm.

Your eyes began to feel heavy. It had just been the most perfect day ever.

“I love you Sweetheart,” Eddie whispered into your hair. “I love you Eds.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

Please leave any requests 🤍

[munson-blurbs]

Hey my love I have a request for you, I'm a sucker for the one bed trope so I hope you forgive me. I was thinking maybe of a reader who's been Corroded Coffin's manager since high school, where she was just booking their gigs for free, but now that they've made it big it's more serious. She takes so much on and gets everything the guys need or want, no matter the effort, until she fucks up one night and has a breakdown. She accidentally books one less room than she meant too, a small thing, but she's been under so much stress that it causes her to crack. Eddie comforts her and she sleeps in his bed with him, where they might admit their feelings?

Sorry if this was too specific

Not too specific at all! I love it!

Warnings: language, bed sharing, no smut

WC: 1.5k

--

"This is it, baby!" Eddie says as the taxi van pulls up to the hotel. "N-Y-C! We made it!" His smile is so wide, you're worried it might fall off of his face. "Who would've thought that four schmucks from Hawkins, Indiana would be playing Radio City?"

I always knew, you think. You've been managing Corroded Coffin since high school, first booking gigs at school dances and local hole-in-the-wall venues. You'd assumed that the guys would find a new manager once they signed with a record label, but they'd insisted you stick around.

"I can't wait to wash the airplane stink off of me," Jeff complains. "What are the room arrangements again?"

"You and Gareth, Eddie and Trevor, and then me," you tell him.

Gareth audibly groans at the assignments. "Why do you get your own room?" he whines.

"When you have boobs, you can have your own room," you retort, and you hear Eddie's laughter hum through the car.

"She's got ya there, dude," he ribs him. "Now help me get all of this shit out of the trunk."

You pay the cab driver and thank him as the guys unload the luggage and instruments, still arguing over the rooms.

"Welcome to the Cityscape Hotel," a bored-looking receptionist drones from behind the oak desk. Her silver-plated name tag reads Faye. "What name is the reservation under?"

You give her your name as she looks it up in the reservation book. "Yup, I see it here. Two king rooms, correct?"

"Um, no," you stammer, palms sweating. "Should be three rooms: one king and two queens."

Faye clucks her tongue and tilts her head, rereading the entry. "Mm, nope. We only have you down for the two kings."

"N-no, I'm sure I booked..." You feel your cheeks burning as the guys stare at you. Fuck. "Do you have any other rooms we can book?" You have the record label's credit card in your wallet, so you could pay any price.

"We're completely sold out this weekend," she informs you, not an ounce of remorse in her voice. "The rooms have pull-out beds that fit one, though."

"See?" Eddie chimes in, throwing an arm around you comfortingly. "It'll all work out. We'll just re-arrange things."

"Who are you gonna bunk with?" Gareth asks you pointedly. "Looks like your boobs aren't getting you out of this one."

You huff, trying to blink away the tears. You had one fucking job and you blew it, the weekend of their biggest gig yet.

"I'll stay with her," Eddie offers, "if that's okay with you," he adds, gazing at you with his chocolate brown eyes.

"Y-yeah, that's fine," you mumble. The thought of sharing a room with Eddie makes you hot all over. You've had the fattest, most embarrassing crush on him since high school; now, five years after graduation, you'd never so much as considered telling him.

"Great! It's settled then!" Eddie grabs your room key off of the desk and motions to the luggage on the ground. "Let's get this shit unpacked so we can get something to eat. I'm starving!"

After chowing down on some incredible pizza--no one does it like New York City--you all head back to your rooms. Traveling always exhausts you, and you're desperately craving a good night's sleep.

"I'll take the couch," Eddie tells you as he unlocks the door. "You can have the bed."

"Such a gentleman," you tease, "but are you sure? I'm not the one playing Radio City tomorrow."

Eddie nods. "Positive." He starts to pull out the sofa bed, groaning when the spring sticks. Re-adjusting his grip, he tries again, to no avail.

"Everything okay?" you ask, grabbing your toothbrush from your suitcase.

"It's, uh, it's broken," he laments. "You wanna try?"

"Sure," you shrug. You give it a shot, but you're just as successful as Eddie was. "Fuck!" you cry out, kicking the leg and wincing in pain. Tears spill over your lashes as you plop down onto the bed. You rest your head in your hands as the sobs wrack your body. "Nothing is going right!"

"Whoa," Eddie breathes, sitting down next to you and rubbing your back. "It's totally okay."

"No, it's not!" you protest. "I wanted everything to be perfect, and I ruined it. I'm so sorry, Eddie."

"Ruined--sweetheart, without you, we would never have even made it this far," he brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear. "You're the one who got us that meeting with the label exec, remember? We owe all of this to you."

You sniffle and rest your head on his shoulder. "You're just saying that so I'll stop crying."

"Nope," he gives you a small smile. "We'd still be playing to our crowd of five drunks at the Hideout if you weren't our manager." He stands up and offers his hand. "C'mon, let's get ready for bed. The lack of sleep probably isn't helping."

"B-but where are you gonna sleep?" you ask quietly.

He frowns, crinkling his nose. "Maybe we could share the bed? No weird stuff, I promise." He holds up his hands in surrender, making you giggle.

The two of you wash up before bed; the whole routine seems extraordinarily domestic for people who aren't in a relationship. Eddie nudges your hip while you brush your teeth together, and you flick his bicep in retaliation.

"Nice pajamas," he jokes, pointing at the oversized Corroded Coffin t-shirt that covers most of your shorts. "Are they any good?"

"Eh," you shrug. "They've got one or two songs I like. I actually found this shirt in the dumpster."

Eddie gasps in mock-offense. "How dare you!" he bellows, and you shush him before any of the other guests can make a noise complaint.

You turn off the lights and climb into bed. Eddie gets in next to you, wearing just his undershirt and boxer shorts. You feel the heat radiating from his body, and you wish you had the courage to snuggle into him.

"Good night," you say softly. You're so tired; you should fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, but the nerves coursing through your veins have other plans.

"Hey, Y/N?" Eddie muses. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mm?"

He sighs. "How come you're only managing us? Not that we don't want you to," he adds hastily, "but you could be doing anything else. Managing much bigger talent, to be honest."

"I love being your manager," you tell him. "It's been amazing watching your dreams come true. My little rockstars are all grown up." You wipe an imaginary tear from your eyes.

"I'm serious!" he whines, and you realize he's inched closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder. You can smell the minty aftertaste of his toothpaste on his breath. "I can't believe you've stuck with us this long."

Because I love you, you think, but you push the idea aside. "I never thought I'd make a career out of it, but maybe I could. I can make business cards and everything!" The thought excites you; you'd been toying with the idea of being a professional manager, but it sounded silly until Eddie said it.

"B-but you wouldn't stop being our manager, right?" Eddie stutters. "Because I-we still need you." He rubs his his face. "Fuck. I'm really nervous right now."

You nuzzle into him. "You have no reason to be nervous, Eds," you reassure him. "You're gonna kill it out there tomorrow. This city isn't gonna know what hit 'em."

"No," he shakes his head, his mop of curls tickling your face. "I'm nervous because--because I really, really fuckin' like you, Y/N. And being next to you in this bed...God, this is gonna sound so lame, but I just wanna hold you." He gives a short laugh. "Prettiest girl in the world is in my bed, and I can only think about being a big spoon."

"Technically, you're in my bed," you correct him playfully. "But I'd like it if you held me. And I'm definitely more of a little spoon, so it sounds meant to be." You shift so your back is against his chest, his strong arm draped over your torso. After a few minutes, you feel him press soft kisses to the nape of your neck, and your heart flutters.

"'M sorry," he pulls back, realizing what he's doing.

You turn to face him, bringing nose to nose. "Don't be." And before you lose your courage, you bring your lips to his. His hand instinctively flies to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss, breaking it only to take a breath.

"All right, rockstar," you say sleepily, kissing his nose before settling back into your cuddling position. "Get some rest. You have a big day ahead of you."

"Yeah," Eddie mumbles into his pillow, rubbing his thumb along your arm, "like I'm really gonna sleep after that."

--

[mysadblacksoul]

The Craving - 4/13 of the Clancy album

Hi so the I don't see this song as very lore oriented

The MV is mainly about creating right?

We can see both Tyler and Josh creating a bullet and a box

And we can tell that they had spent a lot of time making those things

In the end, after all that hard work, their creation is put to the test and ultimately it is decided that they failed

They don't even have time to process their failure, because the next person is already called in their place

I believe that this could be a one big parallel to the music industry as a whole

What is more, the thing that they are creating could be a song, you know, Tyler doing the lyrics and Josh the rhythm

They do it in their own style, with decorative elements that are not seen in others (last man's box was much simpler)

The bullet itself is colorfull, one might say over the top

And the man shooting it could be someone from the record label, radio or overall from the industry

So they are the one to decide if the song will be a hit or miss

And I really like the play of the words of "hit or miss". Like in shooting you can hit the target and in the music a song could be a hit, right?

It just shows how quickly the industry is moving, and how fast the people are to declare that somehing flopped

Then in the lyrics the craving itself could mean a hope for creating something both true to themselves as well as well received by the public

intentions don't mean much - so no matter why you write a song, even if it's for a good cause it might still fail

my body in chains - being tied down by the contract

'Cause it's the fear of the unknown / That cripples every step we take - People prefer to follow trends. Create something that is sure to catch on instead of taking a risk and doing something completely new. This losing oneself for fame may have a lot to do with the previous line

I lied

There is shit tone of lore

Buckle up

So the Bishops hate art and music right?

The guys are still creating the song, but in the Dema universe

We know that the only music the Bishops like is that used for propaganda

And we also know that Mr. Clancy has already tried to use it to show people the truth, as in the Overcompensate MV

So I don't think it's a stretch to say that the same symbolism was used here too

Here, the final failure may show, as in Backslide, the number of attempts the guys made to convey the truth to others and to free themselves from the Dema

They missed, their scheme was unsuccessful

And why do I think such a simple music video is part of the lore? Because of two things: it would be too simple not to be part of the lore and Jenna

We know that Jenna is part of the lore - she is a Bandito and appeared in the Saturday MV (I mean her voice, but you get the point)

So could The Craving be simply love? Or desire for both of them to be safe together?

Yesn't

But I am sure that the part in chorous If I found my body in chains / I'd lay down and wait / And hope she looks for me is a direct callback to the Jumpsuit MV

What happened? Clancy tried to escape, he got found and bounded and as he was about to be taken away the Banditos appeared. With Jenna! So she was looking for him after all

Now I see intentions don't mean much and Now I see the gesture don't mean much we are back to the mentality that no matter what Clancy does he cannot change the situation that he is in

'Cause it's the fear of the unknown / That cripples every step we take - callback to the letter from Dema website that reads "He seemed unaffected by the fear of the unknown – the fear that tends to cripple me"

He is afraid of his own feelings, of failure, of letting her and other Banditos down. He has a lot on his shoulders

And now let's go back to the creation. Tyler is making some kind of container, right? And what you can put to this container? A heart

You might ask yourself "What is this fool talking about???" but hear me out

But for now you told me to hold this jar / And when I looked inside I saw it held your heart, from A Car, A Torch, A Death

Now you see my vision?

Plus one bunny is giving another a gift which can be a reference to I will give more than I take away

And what is Josh doing? Carving a box

She's a carver / She's a butcher with a smile from Tear in My Heart

Genius right? Thanks, I'll be here the whole night

In conclusion:

as far as lore goes, these guys are using art and music to oppose the tyranny of the Bishops

Jenna is a very important part of the lore

And I think it will be a while before we can edit Clancy's wikipedia and add "Jenna - his in-lore-wife"

For some reason, I feel that the ukulele has a more important part of the lore than we think

Don't be afraid to take on challenges and try to change your life situation even if you have failed before

Create what you love and not what others love. Stay true to yourself pookies

[bella-atz]

welcome!

✩ timeline: after pirate king era

✩ summary: bella and ateez meet for the very first time.

A petite and delicate seventeen-year-old trainee dressed in cozy clothing strides her legs to a place she calls her “Second Home.”

Every day, Bella would spend most of her afternoons and nights in the KQ Entertainment building. Plus, she does her schoolwork and studies in the practice room to manage time and her rest. At some point in life, Bella’s family was concerned about her choosing this pathway. Despite admitting the challenges to her loved ones and the hardships of becoming an idol, Bella kept going. She doesn’t know how long it’ll take or where she’ll end up, but she hopes for the best. 

KQ Entertainment is a peculiar place, according to Bella. It originally was a marketing business that turned into a record label. They successfully accepted plentiful artists who have been in the industry for years. Not to mention, KQ recruited eight boys and created their first group. Now, they are rising stars. 

ATEEZ has been getting the world’s attention like magic sparked into people’s lives. 

Unfortunately, Bella wasn’t as close to the group. She had seen their faces and their stellar talent but never knew them personally. However, it’s all going to change. Two months after ATEEZ’s debut, the group will be welcoming someone. 

Bella attended a meeting with KQ’s big boss and had a long discussion that would impact the company and the K-pop industry. The boss allowed her to debut with ATEEZ. Of course, Bella was baffled for a lot of reasons. In other words, she wasn’t sure if it was safe. Having only one girl is going to raise eyebrows for many. However, to Bella’s surprise, from what the boss told her, all eight agreed to have her be part of ATEEZ.

So, today, she’ll be seeing the guys.

Once she says hello and bowing to the workers, Bella can feel her nerves running wild. Before arriving, the teenager keeps questioning if they will like her or think she is awkward and strange. Bella has to eventually develop communication skills because it’s a tough world to survive. The girl enters the elevator to take deep breaths and relax. 

Good thing she is a formal person. It’s not that Bella finds herself to be dull. She was raised in a household with manners and being immaculate. Most importantly, she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself. 

As Bella exits the elevator, she heads to the practice room. “Hm. Maybe I’m too early.” The girl figured because she noticed the darkness from the outside. Her hand grabs the knob to open the door. She switched on the lights to have the room bright as day. Instantly, eight handsome, cute, and beautifully bared-faced guys in warm outfits yell at the top of their lungs. 

“WELCOME TO ATEEZ BELLA!”

Lost for words, the girl has her eyes widened owlishly and mouth gaping. The guys couldn’t contain their laughter at her adorably shocked reaction. Bella can see they all have party hats on, decorations layered in the room, and a snack table with a delicious cake. 

“Hyung, I think we broke her,” Wooyoung whispered to Hongjoong. 

“Ouch!” 

The captain smacks the boy, who is pouting like a hurt child. 

Hongjoong clears his throat and goes up to Bella. “Sorry that we scared you. We didn’t know a better way to make a surprise.” He apologizes so politely. Bella shakes her head. “N-No! You didn’t! I thought it was going to be simple and formal.” Her expectations are the complete opposite. 

The guys glanced at each other and started chuckling. It takes them back to when everyone got together, one by one. Most of them had friendly attitudes, but they soon learned they weren’t normal. In a good way, to not be mistaken.

San comes forward with a big, bright smile and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We thought it would be too lame to do the typical greetings. So, why not throw a party? Also, it’s okay to drop the formalities because we’re family here.” The young man with cute, deep dimples tries to convince Bella that she doesn’t need to shy away from her true colors. 

Bella looks at their sweet smiles. The atmosphere has become fuzzy and warm. She is also feeling a bit emotional. Bella breathed, “Okay, I’ll try to be myself.” She said. All of them cheered. Soon enough, she and the guys form a circle on the floor to talk about themselves, like an ice-breaker. 

“So, what is your position in ATEEZ, Bella?” Yeosang asked the girl.

Not just him, but the rest are curious to know. Bella responded, “Our boss put me as lead vocalist and maknae. I’ve been singing since I was very little and I am thankful that my appa introduced me to K-pop.” She tells them a piece of her background. 

“Ooo~ vocal buddies~” Wooyoung playfully nudges Jongho. The now second youngest shyly smiles. Bella and the others laugh at him merrily. 

“Wait, maknae? How old are you?” San was so straightforward that it kind of surprised the members. Though Bella didn’t mind answering. “I’m 17.” 

At once, they gasped at their new maknae. She is a baby! Their baby!

When getting done with the introductions, Bella can see that everyone has a unique personality. But overall, they are super kind and caring. She witnessed them helping each other give out food because she and all of them were starving. Bella predicts she’ll have the time of her life in ATEEZ.

“Oh! Bella, look what we got for you!” Yunho exclaimed happily.

He and Mingi pulled her arms to drag her to the snack table. They showed her a cutely baked cake of My Melody. “For me?” Bella questions the two. 

Mingi nods earnestly. “Yep! We actually made it, and if it’s not good, then it’s okay to get upset.” He is so blunt that Bella starts laughing. Her laugh is so mellifluous that the guys thought an angel from heaven graced their ears. 

She shakes her head. “I’m sure it’s tasty! Thank you so much!” The new member of ATEEZ sincerely appreciates the whole lovely celebration.

[uglypastels]

Corroded Coffin, Cryptic (1991)

After the release of their record-breaking debut album, Corrosion, expectations of Corroded Coffin's next record were high, to say the least. It is, after all, not often that we get to see a new artist climb its way up the ladder of success as smoothly as we saw it happen in '88. The band's debut dominated not just the Rock charts, positioning the rookies comfortably among the greats of Guns 'n Roses, former Beatles and even Michael Jackson. All this accumulated into one of the best-selling albums of the year and ended award season with three Grammy nominations the next year. On top of that, their Corrosive Damage Tour grossed over 20 million dollars, nearly selling out every date on the roster.

Thus, when the band released their single "Unnamed," immediately hitting the top 10 on nearly every chart, everything seemed to be heading in the same direction for the band's sophomore project Cryptic.

Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case.

It is natural for artists to want to out-do themselves, fearing to be seen as a one-trick pony, but in the case of Corroded Coffin, that came to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. The musicians' need to proof their skills and range, resulted in a incoherent collection of songs that veer too far off from what their fans had grown to love in the first place.

When asked about what they thought of the album, one fan said: "I don't know what I just listened to, but [Corroded] Coffin it ain't."

"They better get their shit together, because I'm not paying money to see this crap live," another listener exclaimed.

Experimentation is always encouraged in the music industry, as is re-invention, but there is a time and place for it, and for a band that has only released one prior record, that time was not now. All choices made in the production, from the voice filters to a new peculiar guitar style, seem to have come from a clear place of insecurity, in particular in the band's frontman, Eddie Munson.

That is now surprise however, as prior to the release of Cryptic, Munson had already been quoted to voice his concerns on several occasions. When on air with Jackie deLange from HRM.FM last December, the singer/guitarist talked of the fears that come with a hit release such as Corrosion:

"The second Corrosion started rising the charts, the only question on everyone's mind was What's next? And shit if I know. We never expected to get where we are now with this record. It was made in a toilet of a studio on a barely existent budget, if you can call it that. The odds were certainly not in our favour and I still don't know how we managed to pull this off. [...] It's deffinitely an immense amount of pressure for someone that barely graduated high school. I don't know if I can do anything as well as that, but I can for sure try."

The quote also begs to question, is the real problem behind the lack of further success the amount of recources available to them under the new label? Having signed on to Black Widow Records mid-tour, the band gained access to equiptment and people unimaginable to unsigned nobodies as they were while creating their breakout hits. Such a change must have been overwhelming, and while it can bring a new form of freedom to the process, it also clearly creates a much larger area for mistakes.

Either way, I hold out hope that it was nothing but a hiccup in the discography, and that the band will come to realise what makes their style theirs and grow with it, but for now the album will remain a reminder for us all that you must learn to walk before you can run.

- The Corroded Coffin Archive (Source: Metal Edge)

[japage3moondog]

the beatles birthday hc's

in honour of mine and johnny's birthday here are the ways the boys would celebrate yours and their birthdays.

john lennon

he makes you breakfast in bed and lays out all your gifts in the living room like it's christmas day. he loves playing the housewife. he wraps all your presents in plain white paper and then hand draws designs and patterns all over them and ties them up with colourful ribbon.

he takes you out to dinner but he spends the whole day with you. you watch tv on the couch while he bakes some bread for lunch and you cuddle while he waits for the dough to proof.

for his birthday, you steal his house husband schtick and cook him a romantic dinner. a nice feed like grilled chicken alfredo with roast potatoes and green beans. you eat it by candlelight to the sound of his favourite record. you'd try your hand at guitar to serenade him and to make him laugh.

paul macca

paul plans the whole day very elaborately months in advance. he would plan most of the event for the later half of the day so you can sleep in. he definitely takes you dancing out at a club, but picks one that's a little more exclusive to stop him from being swarmed on your bithday.

he writes a special birthday song for you every year and puts them all onto a casette for you. he draws little pictures on the labels of them and makes them look pretty for you. he explains all the parts to you and then plays it just on a accoustic guitar. he'll be like "okay so the bass part would go like bwomp bwomp bwaa and then then the drums would be like duh duh duh, just let me play it for you"

for his birthday you plan a party with all his friends, which makes it easy to find the music because most of them are musicians. he loves the attention, he's happiest when he's around the people he loves and he loves a lot of people.

george harrison

as much as george loves to stay inside, he takes you to a nice restaurant that he knows you love. he invites a few of your close friends for a casual lunch and then plans a more intimate dinner with just you at him later in the day. he takes advantage of his status to get a private room for dinner to keep things to just the two of you (and the servers).

he gets you a couple little sentimental gifts, books he's annotated with notes just for you, special mixtapes with some of his musician friends' unreleased songs, jewellery with both of your initials engraved on it.

for his birthday, surprise surprise, he wants to stay in. you take care of his whole schedule to make sure there are no phone calls or meetings or last minute grocery trips. he can just spend the day relaxing in bed or in the garden. you wake him up by putting on his favourite record.

you make his birthday cake together, some old people flavour like pound cake or carrot cake. you decorate in with all his favourite colours and make it look all cutesy. you have it for dessert for the next couple nights and if he ever goes out you pack it in a little lunch for him.

ringo starr

he definitely offers you some birthday oral. i hope you don't have any morning plans because the first few hours of your day is just you cumming in his mouth.

he goes all out on plans. he loves cheesy displays of affection so much. he leaves a trail of rose petals from your bedroom out to the living room and your gifts are arranged into the shape of a loveheart on the coffee table.

he'll take you out to the countryside for a secluded dinner, with all your favourite food. he hires a planner to make sure everything is perfect. he loves making you happy and he'll do everything he can to see you smile.

for his birthday, you take him to one of those cinemas that does a dinner with the movie and you bribe the workers to play his favourite movie.

[novacorpsrecruit]

Better Without You

My other braincell @comicsbi-thebook and I came up with a steddie AU the other day that’s rotting my brain but I do not need another WIP

Steddie Rockstar/Country Star (breakup) AU based on Dixon Dallas’ song Better Without You

Steve and Eddie, who get together after the events of season 4. Eddie was hurt (he may been technically dead for a few minutes), but he’s alive and that’s what matters. He starts to heal over the next few months, Steve by his side, helping Wayne take care of Eddie and falling in love along the way. There were a lot of painful nights — memories, nightmares, wounds that reopened, stitches that ripped, lots of tears and fear that the Upside Down may come back. No matter what happened, Steve was by Eddie side, promising that he wasn’t going to leave him.

Maybe two years pass in their relationship and eddie’s got the record deal of a life time, but that means leaving everything behind. His family, his friends, his life. The agent saw Eddie with Steve and told him that he had to leave him if he wanted the deal. The label wouldn’t sign someone who was queer. This is his only chance on getting out of Hawkins, being known for something other than the town freak that’s accused of a string of murders. This is what he needs.

So he does.

He packs up everything and leaves, barely telling Steve goodbye. Steve is left with a broken heart, a shoebox of pictures and trinkets, and Eddie’s damn acoustic guitar.

He thought about breaking the guitar. Thought about smashing it in the parking lot outside their apartment. taking the broken pieces and lighting it on fire. He tried to return it to Wayne, but Wayne refused. “If he left it, it’s yours.”

Steve let the guitar stay haunting the bedroom, Eddie’s painted words taunting him. Reminding him of what he lost. So he grabs a rag and some alcohol and wipes it clean, removing the words. He learns how to play, stringing chords together and humming along. He learns how to play Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson. And eventually, the pain hurts less. He got a local gig — a paid one — at one of the dive bars, and they kept requesting him to come back.

Eventually, someone important hears him. They offer him a record deal. Steve nearly refused, because of Eddie. Eddie was told to get back in that damn closet if he wanted to break into the industry. Steve refuses to do anything except be himself. If the record wanted him, they’d take him as he is. And the record wanted him, so they agreed to his terms. Out and proud. He signs it and paints his own mark on that damn guitar, known as his signature machine. This machine heals broken hearts.

I hope you miss me when you think about me / and everything we could’ve been / and now you’re nothing but another memory / you know it hurt but in the end / I’m doing better without you, and I know you hate it / I used to think you were the one but you ain’t / no more dancing around it, and I hate to say it / but you damn sure ain’t the one I got away

Steve records a few songs, and instantly they were hits. His song, Better Without You, hit the charts and was played for weeks on the Top 40. Hell, he even broke the top 5.

His lyrics were raw, and any time he preformed the song live, the audience went wild.

I loved you at your worst / you left me at your best / I watched you fade away into the sunset / threw my heart into the dirt / you ripped it from my chest / tried to kill me but I ain’t dying yet

Eddie, known by his moniker MUNSON, is a huge breakout in the metal scene. He’s topped all the metal, rock and alt charts. He’s had a single or two hit the top 40 but most of his fans aren’t from the demographic. He’s done one North American tour with Pantera and he’s rumored to headline his own tour soon. But when he heard about the gay country artist making waves across the charts, he had to take a listen out of curiosity. As soon as the first verse hit, he recognized that voice instantly. He remembers the late nights years ago singing along to Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen years ago. He knows the song is about him and it breaks his heart. He hurts because he knows he hurt Steve. He loved Steve, he really did. He still does.

But Eddie’s so proud of what he’s done at an artist.

And he’s terrified to lose that. Terrified to going back to Eddie the Freak. Eddie the Loser. Eddie stuck in the hellhole of Hawkins, Indiana.

So he calls Steve. He finds a way to get in contact with him. Maybe he uses Dustin to help his number, or a way to talk with him.

And maybe Steve’s a little hopeful when they exchange pleasantries and Eddie tells him that he likes the song and he’s proud of Steve for making it and being out.

But then reality comes crashing down. “You wouldn’t …” Eddie starts, trailing off. He’s nervous, worried, afraid. “You wouldn’t out me, would you?”

This wasn’t an apology for breaking Steve’s heart. It’s a plea, begging for Steve not to out Eddie. And Steve can’t help but laugh as he feels his heart break again.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Steve laughs, hiding his pain. Hiding the tears that want to slide down his cheeks. “Do you really think I’d do that to anyone? Don’t fucking call me again.”

And maybe the next time he plays Better Without You, he sings some lyrics a little louder, while his heart aches.

I’m glad you came into my life, you really taught me well. / and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. / you showed me the devil ain’t exactly in a place called hell / you were tightly wrapped up in my loving arms.