#vinyl record coaster

[sokodraws]

LOVEJOY VINYL RECORD COASTERS :D

ko-fi.com/sokodraws/shop

[socialtomcat]

my punch needle off book coasters 🥰

[myvinylplaylist]

Let The Good Times Roll: Original Sound Track Recording (1973)

Bell Records

[justplaincher]

this purchase may be a sign that ive fully embraced gay spinsterhood 😂 whatever!

[thepointtopoint]

The Enduring Charm of Custom Hand-Painted Signs: A Timeless Artform

The art of hand-painted signage is a time-honored tradition, passed down through generations of skilled artisans. Each sign represents a continuation of this legacy, a testament to the enduring power of craftsmanship and artistry.

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising II

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 2.9k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: I am gonna be 100% honest with all of yall, I have cried, yelled at myself, and threaten to throw my phone across the room. Because I had no idea how to get the reader and the boys to meet. So, this honestly will probably suck, but I have tried my hardest. Spent too many hours deleting and rewriting for this to be bad. So please enjoy if can

The board walk was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It was packed full of bustling people, everyone wanting to go through all the rides, shops and games that they had on display. 

Lights came from all around, aluminating your way through the crowd as you tried to decide what to do first on the boardwalk. Screams and laughter sounded from the rollar coaster ride, the bumps and spins tempted you, but you knew that you’d need to ease your way into everything. 

This would be the moment when you’d wish that Sam or Micheal had come with you, they would try to do everything at once. But, unfortunately, right as you three had arrived; the boys had caught wind of a concert, ditching you to go watch Timmy Cappello perform. 

Treacherous dicks. You called them, wishing that at least one of them would have stuck with you as you ventured where you’d be spending the remainder of your summer. 

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your shorts, the heat of the night air causing a faint sheen of sweat to coat your body. After you’d finished unpacking all the necessities from the car, you’d taken a quick shower and changed for a night out on the board walk.

And thankfully so, the gentle breeze against your bare legs cooled you down enough for you to actually enjoy the night out. 

Chimming bells suddenly grasped your attention, facing the noise, you saw a small shop that was isolated from the others. One of the stores windows was cracked, a piece of cardboard covered the inside to prevent the glass from falling out. 

It was a music shop. 

You remembered when your dad would take you as a kid, letting you pick out cassette tapes, and vinyl records for your room. The old record player would run all day from how many times you would listen to Elvis, Buck Owen’s, and The mamás & the papas. 

It was such a shame that you had to sell the record player and half of your vinyl collection to help out after the divorce. With such little money, you had to make sacrifices for your family. No matter how much you regretted it afterwards.

You glanced up at the sign above the door, a wooden guitar with the words Soundscape etched into the body, swayed against the gentle breeze.  A young couple walked out of the store, hand in hand, a paper bag with their purchase held tightly as they ambled away. 

Reaching into your pocket, you felt around for your wallet. The small leather bound material felt weighted as you pulled it out, the sudden urge to spend your money caused you to open the door of the shop. 

The bell rang above you, and a quick greeting sounded from the cashier. You politely greeted him back before wandering throughout the store. 

It was decently clean, a few stray cd’s littered the ground and a couple display posters were a bit too crooked. But, overall, it was perfect for you. 

You trailed your fingers over a couple of vinyls, picking up a few before putting them back in place. Not really looking for anything specific at the moment, you just tried to find something that would catch your eye. 

Stopping infront of the cassette tapes, you let yourself go through each row, the soft clicking as the cassettes bumped against each other drifted up towards your ears. That and the sound of Jeff Lynne’s voice singing Don’t bring me down, was the only noise that filtered throughout the store. 

Your finger graced an Elvis cassette, the image of him and his infamous guitar sat in the clear case. Picking up the tape, you flipped it over reading the listed songs that went with each side. It had a couple good ones; like Blue Suede Shoes, All Shook Up, Return To Sender, Burning Love and of course some others. 

It was his top greatest hits from each album. 

You tapped the plastic against your palm, debating if you should spend the money just to add to your Elvis collection. You actually had a lot of collections that you needed to complete, but, with this specific artist you only had small handful left to find. 

Kinda like Sam’s Batman comics that he’s been trying to find at every book store that you’d passed on the way down here. 

The bell suddenly rang once more, dragging your attention away from the shelf infront of you. A group of men walked in, each leather clad and mullet wearing. The smell of smoke drifted off of them, wafting through the store. It made you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

“Welcome to the SoundScape,” The Cashier told them, the rehearsed words falling easily out of his mouth. “If you need any help, please let me know.”

None of the guys acknowledged the worker, or, they did though they just didn’t pay him any mind. You watched as they each dispersed from one another, going to different displays around the store. Picking up random items before putting them back where they originally were. 

One of the guys walked down the same row you were on, his eyes trailing over the selection of cassettes. You returned your gaze back to your own tape, not wanting to be caught staring at the guy like a creep. 

Eyeing the rack infront of you, wondering if you should buy the Elvis tape or possibly another. If you’d had enough money on you. You kept your eye on a Boney M. cassette, the item practically calling your name. You reached forward fingers less than an inch away from the plastic when a sudden commotion caused you to freeze. 

BAM!

Your head instantly shot up, the sudden noise disturbing the once peaceful silence. It came from a guy in the leathered group, the small one with curly hair, he stood over a fallen display of cd’s. His hands held up in the air, a small smug grin tugging on his lips as he turned to the stores worker. 

“I’m sorry, man.” He told him, his apologie laced with sarcasm. “It just started falling.”

The cashier let out a deep sigh, his smile turning from genuine to forced as he eyed the scattered items. “It’s alright, accidents happen.”

You watched as the curly guy bent down and picked up the stand, purposely hitting the one right beside it as he did so. He let out another fake apology before the worker shooed him away, picking up everything himself before curly messed up the entire store. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the movement of the blond beside you shove something in his pocket. You turned you head slightly, to get a better view, and you watched as he took another cassette from the shelf and put it on the inside of his jacket. 

You glanced between him and the other three guys that he came in with, noticing that with the worker busy they were taking items off of their display and stuffing them deep into their clothes. Hell, the curly guy was trying to fit a whole vinyl record in the front of his shirt. A very prominent square outlined for everyone to see. 

It was a diversion, knocking over enough stuff for the counter guy to get pissed and pick everything up himself. It was clever, but still wrong. 

With your attention kept on the tapes infront of you, you opened your mouth. Voice low enough so that only the blonde next to you could hear. “You shouldn’t do that.”

The man glanced up at you, not at all ashamed of what he was doing. “What’s that?”

“You shouldn’t steal.”

He let out a quiet laugh, leaning his upper body against the shelf. “Oh, really?” He asked, voice drawing out into a tease. “Wanna tell me why I shouldn’t, babe?”

You gestured to the store around you, eyes meeting his. “Because, its wrong. And, just because you and your friends can’t see that, doesn’t mean that it’s right.”

“Well, me and my friends seem to think it pretty damn fun.” He told you, pushing off the shelf as he took a few small steps towards you. “So, your reasoning is pretty much useless in this case.”

The guy stood a mere foot away from you, his eyes trailing across your face. His smile growing ever so slightly as he took you in. “So, watcha gonna do about it?” He asked, voice soft and teasing as he held a tape infront of you. 

“Put it back.”

“Why? There is no fun in doing the right thing.” He waved the item in your face. “Is there, babe?”

You snatched the cassette from his grasp, eyes not once leaving his as you placed it randomly on the shelf. “Put ‘em all back.” You scolded, voice rising ever so slightly. “It’s shitty and disrespectful for the ones that try to make a living working in places like this.”

He glanced over the top rack, eyeing the worker with disinterest. “Yeah, but, it’s also disrespectful to have to work at a place like this.” He turned back to you. “So, if he gets fired then he’ll come and thank us.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, wanting to tell him how much his point didn’t make since. When you notice how quiet the store had gotten, the music coming from the speakers and the worker picking up the cds were the only thing. Glancing around you couldn’t see the guys friends, all of them gone from where they originally were. 

“Yeah, Paul, put it back.” A voiced suddenly called from beside you, arm slinging itself across your shoulder. 

Peering beside you, you saw the curly haired guy, his eyes dancing between both you and Paul. You didn’t even hear him come up behind you, in fact you didn’t even know that he had moved from where he was across the store. 

You pushed off his arm, the feeling of his body pressed up against your own made your face heat up. Looking back at Paul, you noticed how his body seemed to get more ecstatic, smile forming into a friendly tease. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t you put up that vinyl of yours.” He tapped against the cardboard beneath the fabric. 

Curly swatted his hand away, pulling the vinyl from beneath his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You eyed the disc on the ground, annoyance seeping into your chest at the disregard of store. 

“Pick it up.” You told the smaller one, side stepping away from them both to give yourself some room. 

He tsked, eyes roaming your body up and down. “Well, aren’t you a bossy one.”

“I wouldn’t be bossy if you’d stop fucking-“

“Watch your mouth.” A different voice spoke up, stopping you from finishing your sentence. You glanced over at the voice, taking in his long overcoat and bleach blonde hair. “It’s not nice to treat strangers that way.”

You furrowed you eyebrows, “If your saying I’m being rude, than that’s really the last thing I care about right now.”

A few small snickers came from around you, causing you to look around at each men that surrounded you. The two blondes stood the closest to you, giving you just a foot of breathing room. Then there were the the bleach blonde and brunette. They stood the furthest from you, but their stares alone were enough to make you feel like they were everywhere at once. 

Your body felt like it was on fire underneath their gazes, that and your dignity slowly burning away as realized how much of a fool you must look like right now.  You quickly crouched down, picking up the vinyl and gently setting it on the shelf. Not really caring that it’s not where it belongs right now. 

Someone cleared their throat. You and the guys turned your attention towards the worker, who stood behind the counter with a wet rag. “We’re closing.” He told them, nodding toward the door with little patience. “If your gonna buy something, now is the time.”

You gave him a quick ‘ok’, forced smile gracing your features as you turned to face the men. You eyed them wearyingly, knowing that they could just easily walk out of here without doing at all what you’ve been asking. 

A soft chuckle came from the bleach blonde, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “C’mon, Paul.” He said, turning to walk out of the store. “Put ‘em back, we got places to be.” 

You watched as he pulled out a cd, the front of the case covered in a band called Scorpion. He set it down on the shelf, his eyes not once leaving your own. “We’ll see you around.” He muttered, voice low and mesmerizing to hear as he spoke.

It was almost like a fly getting caught in honey. Alluring and sticky, but, it’s just a trap for the prey. 

You didn’t acknowledge his words, instead you just watched as he walked out, the others slowly trailing after him. The brunette hadn’t muttered a single word since entering the store, and apparently didn’t feel the need to as he stepped outside. 

Curly slowly wandered towards the door, turning swiftly to wave his fingers at you before disappearing behind the glass. A simple ‘Have a nice night’ spilling from his lips as he did so. Paul then turned to walked out, his arm resting across your shoulder slide off. Hand coming up to pinch your nose. “Yeah, we’ll be seeing ya around.” He told you, voice indicating that it wasn’t a suggestion, but more of a promise. 

Swatting his hand away from your face, you watched as he chuckled, walking away as he went to join his friends. Leaving you all alone in the isle, with nothing but your Elvis tape and flustered face. 

Engines revved outside as you walked up to the cashier, the sound of the fading bikes meeting your ears as you tossed the cassette on the counter. The worker rang you up, placed your item in a paper bag and thanked you for your purchase. You quietly wished him good night, before turning on your heal and walking outside. 

You were quickly met with the warm night air, the loud noises coming from the boardwalk surrounded you once more. You held on tightly to the paper bag, the cassette softly rattling inside as you quickly walked away from the Soundscape. 

You were still flustered from your interaction with the four boys. The feeling of their bodies pressed up against your own made the night heat all the more unbearable. What if I would have just left them alone? You thought, swerving through a group of people that waited patiently for the carousel. 

They still would have taken from the shop, and that guy would’ve probably lost his job from all the items missing. But, you wouldn’t have lost some of your dignity whilst doing so. 

A sigh left your lips, unoccupied hand going into your jacket pocket. Though instead of the feeling of the scratchy fabric, your fingers graced against a peice of cold plastic. You stopped walking, standing by your lonesome in the middle of the boardwalk as you pulled out whatever rested in your pocket. 

It was a Scorpion cd. The same one that you saw the bleach blonde pull from his coat. You hadn’t even felt him slip the item in your pocket, was it when you were getting on to him or when he was leaving? Was he even the one that slipped it in?

Stupid prick, you thought. Stuffing the disk into the paper bag with your Elvis one, there was no sense in returning it now. The shop was already closing up and how would you even explain that to the poor worker. 

You shook your head, the events of the night tiring you out. 

From a distance you could see both Sam and Micheal standing in the middle of the boardwalk, their attention caught on a girl and little boy. You made your way over to your brothers, the paper bag swaying in your hand as your feet picked up. 

Sam greeted you when you came near, his long over coat brushing against his shoes. “He’s been following her since the concert.” He told you, gesturing with his hand towards the pretty girl. 

“Mmh, hey, peeping Tom.” You tugged on Micheal sleeve, trying to pull him away. “I’m ready to go home.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, his eyes staring longingly at the back of the girls head. You pulled once more at his arm, barely getting him to move when the sudden loud noise of multiple vehicles rushed on the boardwalk. Glancing towards the disturbance, you watched as four familiar bodies stopped infront of the girl and boy. 

They each revved their engines, purposely scaring away anyone that too close. You watched as the little boy made his way over to one of the motorcycles, the brunette pulling him up to sit behind him. 

The girl placed her arm across the bleach blondes chest, hosting herself onto the back of the motorcycle. “C’mon, man, she played you.” Sam told his brother, pulling him away from his rooted spot on the deck. You stayed put for a second, slowly trailing after your brothers as the engines of the bikes faded from earshot. 

Your mind going to when exactly you’d be seeing them again. 

A/a/n: Like I said, this took so long to figure out how exactly the reader and the boys would meet each other. So, I honestly would understand if y'all don’t like this, but, trust me the other chapters are going to be a whole lot better.

[formulaforza]

hello, hello! can i request a blurb where carlos and reader have moved in together and are having a housewarming party. they’ve invited a couple drivers over and lando tries to use the fancy hermes blanket on the couch and reader gasps! "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-" you’d do it amazingly 🫶🏼 thank you!

—coming home carlos sainz x reader love, mackie... hi nonnie!! this turned into exactly how I needed to spend my evening (my day was quite literally from hell.) and this ran a little longer than a blurb at 1.3k words! regardless, I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it (and listening to lots of Spanish music)

There wasn’t much that was easy about blending the home decor styles of you and your boyfriend. For every item that Carlos fell in love with, you had an equal and opposite styled piece that you were in love with. From the herringbone floors to the tall white walls, it seemed that everything in the place was a direct contrast of the other. Quiet luxury and old money and neon signs and maximalist paint swatches, it was almost an entire year before the two of you finally allowed guests to come over (which–by the way–was a direct conflict to one of the major reasons the two of you decided to move in together in the first place: hosting friends and family without arguing over who would be doing the hosting).

The week following the Spanish Grand Prix felt like the perfect time to finally show your home off to the people you loved most; everyone was already in Barcelona for Carlos, an hour and change flight or a two and a half hour train ride wouldn’t kill any of them, not when half of them had to make their way back to the capital. 

That’s how it all cumulated into the night of all nights. The coffee table books are surrounded by half full, mis-matched wine glasses on old Spanish tile coasters (a compromise the two of you had made over the intricate hand painted ceramic that previously adorned the kitchen walls). The record player in the corner of the room stutters its way through Carlos’ dusty Boleros In Trío vinyl while the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen serenades listeners with the sounds of Sebastian Yatra. 

Everytime Carlos enters a room, he flips the lightswitch on. You follow behind him turning the overheads back off, opting for the warm yellow lamp light and the colors of the city beyond the bistro-themed balcony.  He burns a candle on the stack of decorative books, something with tobacco and cocoa and brandy and–jasmine, maybe? He always picks candles with jasmine, so you might just be imagining the smell out of habit. 

And you, and him. The two of you so terribly settled into the domesticity of your shared lives, the air of love in every corner of the home. He appears in the kitchen in a warm breeze, reaching over your arm to grab a slice of chorizo from the tapas platter on the counter in front of you. He kisses your cheek when he does it, undoubtedly in hopes of distracting your hand from smacking his. “¿Tienes frío, mi amor?” Are you cold, my love? He peruses around the bite of food. 

“¿No porque?” No, why? You ask, pressing the back of your hand against your cheek to feel the temperature of your own skin. 

“Lando sigue y sigue sobre tener frío,” Lando is going on and on about being cold, he explains. “Estaba empezando a pensar que me estaba volviendo loco.” I was starting to think I was going crazy.

You laugh. If anything but temperate, you’re warm, working around the kitchen perfectly plating a platter for your friends and family to snack on. “Bueno, creo que Lando ha perdido la cabeza,” Well, I think Lando has lost his mind. Carlos chuckles, gives you another passing kiss as he moves behind you around the island. “¿Encontrarle una manta, sin embargo?” Find him a blanket, though? You ask. He nods through a chew, holds his thumb up as he backs out of the room—you wonder how he managed to sneak another bite of food past you. 

You appear with the tray of snacks, chorizo with ham and cheese and bread, croquetas and patatas bravas and tigres. If it’s all as good as it was when you’d tested the menu last weekend, your company won’t even realize that you and Carlos aren’t serving them an actual meal this evening. Everyone hastily moves their coasters and glasses and Carlos moves the stack of books from the coffee table to the entertainment center, hovers behind you as you set the heavy platter down just in case you need him. 

You find your seat next to Carlos on one of the sofas, know that he hates that people are eating on his new couches. He’d researched them for months–months–before finally deciding on the ones that had been delivered last month as a replacement to the ones from your old apartment. 

You notice Lando is still blanketless, still dramatically letting a shiver run up his entire body every ten minutes. “Güey,” you say, and half the room looks up from their conversation, Lando’s eyes meeting yours. “If you are cold still, get a blanket.”

“Ay yai yai, pollita, relax,” he quips back in a thick, feigned Spanish accent. Carlos snorts and you meet Lando with your middle finger, an old friend of his. When you look to your boyfriend to meet his dumb chuckle with the same fate, he’s not even paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he picks at the bottom of a shelf hung on the wall above the two of you. It holds his trophy from Silverstone, a picture of him and Caco, a small jar full of incense sticks (maybe the jasmine you smell), which he has stuck a tiny Spanish flag into, and a picture of you and he following his win. The smiles on both your faces are so horribly cheek-aching that you can almost feel the phantom soreness when you look at it. 

You watch as Lando reaches over another friend with a quiet excuse me. You can see the thought process happening behind his eyes, in his path for the blanket draped over the back of Carlos’ brand new couch. It’s like watching the world’s lowest stakes car crash. 

“Carlos,” you whisper. “Carlos, él va por la cobija,” he’s going for the blanket, you say through gritted teeth, nudging your boyfriend to deal with his friend.  He ignores you, still focused on the bottom of the shelf and the single splinter that shoots off it. “Carlos,” you say, this time with more force. 

“¿Qué?” You finally get his eyes, nodding over to Lando, who is currently unfolding the Hermés throw blanket Carlos’ mother had gifted the two of you upon signing your lease. “Ay! Cabrón! No,” he finally says, standing up from his seat and moving to take the blanket from Lando, who looks on in utter confusion as Carlos refolds the throw and moves down the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” He asks you through a meek chuckle. 

“We don’t use that blanket,” you explain, and he looks even more confused than before. 

“You… hu–what?” He laughs, with more confidence in his confusion than before. “Why is there a blanket on the couch if it can’t be used?”

You sigh, your eyes rolling behind closed lids. “It’s for decoration.”

“It’s for decoration?” You nod, just as Carlos appears from the hall again, usable blanket in tow, expensive throw likely put away in your shared bedroom. He hands it to Lando. “It’s for decoration,” the Brit teases. 

Carlos shrugs, holds his hands up in defense in the return to his seat beside you. “Rule maker,” he says, pointing to you with a thumb before shifting it to himself, “rule follower.”

You laugh, adjusting to the sink of the cushion brought on by Carlos’ weight on the couch, your fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck without even the beginnings of a thought. Lando groans, pointing to you, “whipped,” and then to Carlos, “whipped… but more.”

“Stellar delivery there, cabrón,” you smile. “No stutter or anything.”

Carlos exhales a sharp laugh, his shoulders bouncing silently. Across the coffee table, Lando, curled up in a fluffy blanket like a toddler staying up past their bed-time to hang out with Mom and Dad’s friends, flips you off and is sure to properly enunciate his silently mouthed fuck you.

[666writingcafe]

Quick-Fire Headcanons (11)

Solomon will go on roller coasters, but he has to ride with Asmo so that he can cling onto him for the entirety of the ride.

Simeon has multiple CDs in his car he doesn’t want anyone to find out about.

Levi would keep a lava lamp in his car because it looks cool to him.

Beel treats his car like it’s his baby; he’s had custom work done on it, and it’s completely spotless.

Barbatos really doesn’t like to drive, but often gets roped in to chauffeur everyone.

Mammon gets honked at a lot when he’s driving because he’s pretty reckless (to the point where anyone driving with him has to mentally recover after they get out of the car).

Diavolo gets honked at a lot because he’s a really slow driver.

Lucifer would scour a flea market for hours in extreme weather just so that he find a good deal (especially when it comes to rare books/vinyls).

Solomon often buys things he doesn’t need because they’re cheap.

Simeon has to prevent Luke from spending all his money at the gift shops.

Levi once had a gig as an amusement park mascot.

Lucifer, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and MC once went to a renaissance fair together.

Once Lucifer is asleep, he’s pretty much dead to the world; so, in these situations, Mammon gets stuck with the responsibility of telling Cerberus to quit barking at squirrels and other creatures in the middle of the night.

Levi and Satan have a habit of overthinking but are good at keeping everyone out of danger, especially if they work together.

Barbatos has two closets: one that houses a nearly endless supply of his uniforms, and the other for all other outfits.

Part of Solomon’s closet is full of borrowed clothes he “forgot” to return to his friends.

If Belphie had his way, he would go barefoot everywhere.

One of the ways Solomon likes to annoy people is to play Hot Cross Buns on the recorder repeatedly to get the tune stuck in their head.

[folkwhore1998]

swear to be overdramatic and true to my...

lover

I am a pink girly through and through. Taylor's album aesthetics are so different from one another, and of course, I may be biased but I just love this album aesthetic so much. It completely screams summer. This is the album to roll the windows down and sing with your friends in the car, fall in love, yell at a man, cry... Who knows!

Miss. Americana highlights a large bit of the Lover era and Taylor's thoughts while making the album. The clip in that documentary where she discusses how this is really her last opportunity to do something big in music is so emotional to watch. Reason 1 is that it is a hard headspace to be in. Reason 2 is that it was the furthest thing from the truth. Seeing the shift in her stardom from then to now literally makes me emotional you guys. She had no idea what was going to happen for her. Don't get me wrong, she was already insanely successful, but things are so different for her now.

There is a lot of discourse about how reputation is the real Lover, and Lover is the anxiety that comes with being in love. Some have also said it is wearing the rose colored glasses and being blinded by love. Either way, it is a beautiful album that I will ride at dawn for.

It has a mix of everything... mushy love songs like Lover and Cornelia Street, songs with empowerment like The Man and You Need to Calm Down... self love with Me! and the deepest song being Soon You'll Get Better.

Soon You'll Get Better is a song that means so much to me. My Mom was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer when I was 19 and lost her when I was 22.For me, it was the song that got me through it. The song that encapsulates the helplessness of seeing someone you love be so sick but desperate to do everything and anything to have them get better. It goes back and fourth between denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Denial: I'll just pretend it isn't real. I know delusion when I see it in the mirror. Anger: And I hate to make this all about me. But who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do, If there's no you? Bargaining: Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too Depression: In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared Acceptance: This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because, Cause I have to

It is something you don't understand until it happens to you. I am heartbroken for anyone who understands while simultaneously being thankful I have someone who understands. It helps me to not feel so alone and I've never heard a song like it.

Here are my rankings for the album, Lover (Taylor's first fully owned album!!!)

Cornelia Street, Soon You'll Get Better (don't make me choose) Daylight Lover Cruel Summer Death By A Thousand Cuts Paper Rings Me! The Man London Boy You Need to Calm Down The Archer False God Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince Afterglow I Forgot That You Existed I Think He Knows It's Nice To Have a Friend

My favorite Lover Era Moments:

she's so real for this

one of my favorite performances

Here is the link to the beautiful framed print: I have a ton of these in my house. I print them at walgreens and put them in a frame! I get tons of compliments on them.

Here is a direct link to the storefront:

Here is a link to the lover live from paris vinyl costers:

Here is the direct link to the storefront:

@taylorswift @taylornation

[so-many-crushes]

The Wonder of You

Just a little gift for @frecklystars because she deserves it! (like I mentioned, sorry if something isn't lore accurate- I haven't seen the movie)

Ship: Keri/Officer K (Blade Runner 2049)

Word Count: ~900

K sighed as he walked through the door of his apartment and shrugged off his coat, it was raining… again. The third time it rained in the past week alone. Another day another Nexus-8 replicant to retire. Today had taken K all the way out to Lone Pine and back so it was an understatement to say K was tired. He kicked his shoes off and made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, K’s eyes lingered on his girlfriend’s rainbow mug for a moment. K shook the frown off his face as he grabbed the open bottle of scotch, Keri would be back soon.

The Nexus-9 poured himself a glass, plopped two ice cubes, took a long sip, and sighed with relief as the alcohol burned the back of his throat. He replenished the missing sip before capping the scotch and made his way into the living room. K placed his glass on the coffee table, making sure to put in on the coaster Keri had gotten him. She had said the water rings on the table were ‘just as disastrous as Ken’s mojo dojo casa house’… whatever that meant. K walked over to his vintage record player and flipped through his extensive vinyl collection before deciding to play ‘Jazz’s Greatest Hits Vol. 4’. He sat on the couch with his glass in hand and his eyes closed as Nat King Cole’s voice crackled to life from the record player. K was content like that for a while, just relaxing on his couch as his mind drifted elsewhere.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there for as the jazz filled his empty apartment before a new sound echoed through the air. K felt like he knew that sound better than his own voice, it was a magical sound- like the sound of glass wind chimes. The sound of his Keri. K jumped to his feet as a bright pink light formed in his room, the light shifted into the form of a star and then into his girlfriend.

“Keri!” K smiled for the first time that day.

“K!” Keri beamed, shaking glitter from her hair- a little unknown side effect of dimension hopping. “I missed you!” She held out her arms.

“I missed you so much.” K wrapped his arms around her and spun her, his smile growing as the brunette laughed. K placed Keri back on the ground and pulled her in for a kiss. “Are you hungry?” He asked after pulling away, “I have some ice cream in the freezer?”

“In a bit,” Keri pulled K in for another hug, “Wanna spend time with you.” Her voice was somewhat muffled from being pressed into K’s chest.

K smiled and kissed the top of her head, “Of course, baby. Get comfy, let me grab you some water, yeah?” Keri nodded and flopped down on the couch as K came back with a glass of water, again making sure to put it on the coaster. “How have you been, love?” K asked, sitting down next to his girlfriend.

Keri launched into tales of her inter dimensional travels since she had last seen K, she fiddled with the frills of her baby blue dress as she spoke. K listened happily, a love struck expression plastered across his face. As Keri eventually finished her stories, the record began to play its last song ‘Cheek To Cheek’ by Ella Fitzgerald. K stood up from the couch and held his hand out.

“Dance with me?” He asked.

Keri stood and took his hand, “Always.”

The pair grabbed opposite sides of the coffee table and moved it off to the side to give the couple a bigger dancing space. K took Keri’s hand again and twirled her into his arms, she giggled as she spun. The song was a bit faster than what they usually danced to and Keri couldn’t help but laugh as they tried to do a fake swing routine as Ella’s honey-sweet voice filled the air.

Eventually the trumpets playing came to an abrupt end as the song finished, the vinyl finally ending. Keri continued to laugh, her cheeks flushed pink, as she made her way over to the record player to pick out the next vinyl. She didn’t have to flip through very far, K always made sure to keep Keri’s favorite records at the front. She slipped the vinyl out of the sleeve and placed it down before ever so gently resting the needle on top. The girl made her way back over to K as a familiar tune surrounded the pair.

“When no-one else can understand me…” Elvis Presley’s singing floated in the apartment, “When everything I do is wrong… You give me hope and consolation…”

Keri draped her arms up over K’s shoulders and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned down and kissed her again, he loved how the two fit together- like he was made for her and not made for retiring replicants. The two swayed back and forth to the music.

“I love you, Keri.” K murmured, resting his chin on her head.

Keri rested her head on his chest again, listening to the sound of the rain outside hitting the window, the song, and most importantly- the beating of K’s mechanical heart. “I love you too.”

[indigo-corvus]

Banana Splits Headcanons (Part 2)

🍌🐶🍌 🐵 🍌🦁🍌 🐘

Fleegle:

-Has a big mouth! Always finds himself in trouble because of it.

-Is very mechanically inclined. Fleegle is always tinkering with the Banana Buggies, Mildred, and his calliopa-vio-saxo-trumpe-rimba-clari-bassi-trombo-phone.

-OG Fleegle would Never cuss. Jellystone! Fleegle on the other hand,, would say Fuck at least once a day. (But never around children)

-Wags his tail when happy.

-Very expressive ears! You can always tell what he is thinking/feeling

-Most responsible club member

-Best driver of the bunch

-Likes to read with Bingo after dinner most nights

-Jellystone! Fleegle is always dehydrated. He's very much a "I'll drink water when I DIE" type of person.

Drooper:

-Always ends up being the bait/distraction and HATES it

-Tallest member in OG group. 2nd tallest member of the group in Jellystone! Version of the group

-Would only say Fuck if seriously hurt

-Is a vinyl record enthusiast, and has a sizeable collection (He and Fleegle are nostalgic types)

-Always has stuff happening to his tail. (used as a jump rope, gets slammed in doors, stepped on, etc)

-Kind of a narcissistic, pretentious bastard (Jellystone!)

-Very cuddly guy

-Fur will bristle if he is surprised

Bingo:

-Self conscious of his balding, hides it with his hat

-Honestly is just generally self conscious about his appearance

-Self taught drummer

-WORST DRIVER. DO NOT LET BINGO DRIVE. It's not a matter of IF you will get a speeding ticket, it's When. MF will text and eat and drive, all at the same time.

-Loves loud music when driving

-Second most likely to say Fuck. Will say it just because

-Very close with Drooper and Snorky

-Kind of a "Better you than me" type of guy

-Kind of a douchey jock sometimes

Snorky:

-Snorky and Bingo are the most fashionable members of the bunch. Is the group stylist.

-Doesn't say fuck, but deserves it the most.

-Most hydrated member of the group. Always has a bottle of water with him just in case someone needs some.

-Has a very long self care routine he does every morning. (And he looks Spectacular when he is done!)

-Snorky is always forgotten. (Gets left behind, made to dig the escape hole, sometimes skipped over when sharing treats, etc)

-Huge advocate for coasters.

-Gets mad when people make the house dirty right after he cleaned it.

-Takes pride in how hard he works to clean the house. (Those Splits can be messy!!)

-Will vague post on social media about you when angry.

-Loves going to farmer's markets.

-Likes feeling pretty. Will volunteer to dress up if the plan calls for it. The gang supports Snorky, and will make sure there is a dress available for him if they need to wear disguises for some reason.

-Jellystone! Snorky is a really cocky villain, and is constantly talking smack. It's hard to understand though, because he can only honk.

[smaeemo]

When the intrusive thoughts get to be too much I turn on easy listening music and pretend im a receptionist for a doctor on the shore of a remote island wherein the only people near are the residents of a small town.

The air from the decaying pink fan that lies in the corner slowly moves my hair into my face, but the whispers of ocean breeze urgdes the hair from my eyes. As I fill out spreedsheets for the patients and the occasional animal that the doc treats. My pencil is a number 2 pencil that was blindly orange before years of useage, now worn down almost to nothing. I have a mug of newer, cleaner pencils that lays beside me, but I continue to use the small one. I like it better. It feels almost special to use an important tool to fill out a report as intricate as this one.

Every door in the small building is open, the building is ajacent from the treatment center where the doc treats the patients. The treatment center is much newer, renovated and cleaner. The building where I am now is a small old building that over looks the ocean from almost every angle. Filled with a massive pair of doors that open to a small porch that overlooks the town and the ocean. It simply gets too hot to have the windows and doors closed in the building i am in (the med center), so the doc, and I decided we would never close them. Each of them has a small net, most of them patched with ductape due to the nets wearing out over time. We have blinds, small ones that were here from the past owner of the med center building (we assume it was the Mayor’s house back in the day).

The whole building is quaint and disorganized, but never dirty. Stacks of boxes that hold patient files, towers of medical books for the occasional curious high school student, plants that our old receptionist Maria put in years before she retired. She comes back every morning to water them, and to say hello. My desk is covered in papers, envelopes for our intern to send out on Monday. An old computer sits in the corner, seldom used due to the internet never working this high up on the hill. There’s a mug that my sister gave to me, it has now room temperature sleepy time tea I made this morning. It sits next to a coaster as aposed to on the coaster because I was too initially tired to set it down and inch to the left. My chair is a dark worn roller chair that squeaks everytime you lean back in it. There’s a landline on the side closest to the door, who’s calls usually consist of Maria checking on her plants, or my sister calling to remind me of the lunch she snuck into my work bag.

It’s sunrise in mid june, and the sun is peaking over the ocean leaving the blindingly sharp gleams shimmering through the room turning the mundane greys and whites to an almost etheral orange glow.

The sounds heard are the windchimes on the porch making an occasionally ear piercing but soft melody, the gentle whirring fan, and a husky but deep gravelly smooth tune playing from our record player. The soft easy listening music crunched with the aging vinyl, but a whisky smooth voice singing to me the sounds of Jazz and pretty voices brought to life by the aged needle playing in each groove of worn vinyl. Outside there are far off birds, a gentle hum of a boat from the dock, accompanied by the occasional crashing of waves.

For a minute, the windchimes quiet to a hush, the birds still, the fan turns from talking to small whispers, the boat goes on it’s way, and the waves even out to a slow ripple.

The whole world seems to come become a gentle hush.

Just for a minute, sereinity surrounds me as the rhythm from the record player continues softly at first, then becoming a gentle essence as if it were sitting next to me.

Then before I can question, the sounds start to trickle in slowly one at a time.

First the fan,

Then the birds,

The Breeze

Then of course the jingling of windchimes.

The music is soft, but a comforting presence as the sunrise is almost all above the horizon now. I stare in awe at the gorgeous sight that mother earth and father sun bring to us now. My hair blowing again in a stronger breeze. I hear the slow decent of papers falling to the ground behind me, and the ever so small squeak of the chair.

None of the sounds as pronounced as the slow melody seeping into the corners of the room, combining with the air’s humidity, becoming a part of each eased breath.

Pencil in hand,

I breathe in,

Breathe out,

and sigh

Contentness and peace, alongside a brilliant adoration glide through me.

The song starts to simmer out, and the sun is now in the sky. A warm power cloaks my skin in a humid but beautiful hug.

I turn back to the papers, and sigh as I pick them up. Dusting off non existent dirt and placing each on the desk, before walking over to the record player. Flipping the disc

Ah there it is

The soothing voices play in tandem with the crashing waves, and with that I pick up my now cold tea, and continue my work pencil in hand etching down numbers and dates.

Played on and out with the upbeat sounds of the trumpet and the gravelly soprano of the violins.

Gentle fondness, beauty, and sereinity finally found…

[axiermundi]

retail therapy 😃

I bought diatomite mats for our kitchen and table 😊 I was lucky to find affordable ones. That said, I'm not sure the white bathroom mat is diatomite, cuz it doesn't absorb fast, unlike the other diatomite products I bought.

And a floor rug for my room, because the tiles are dilapidated.

Diatomite coaster. It feels and sounds brittle like chalk. It absorbs water fast like tissue paper.

Portable light for my bed! I will finally have reachable light instead of getting up for the light switch.

I should really read instructions before using a product. I found out that it needs to be charged 6-10 hours before usage, but I went and kept it on for like an hour or so. 😅

My dad bought a turntable the other day, and his vinyl record just arrived today. 😊 It's neat! I never expected my dad to buy something like this because he always looks for the latest technology and cares a lot about sound, so we have many remotes for different devices and a theater set with many speakers. He's trying to get the sound to play on his component, though no progress as of now. He's also planning to upgrade and give this turntable to me, but I don't have somewhere to keep it, and I would need to buy vinyl records to completely appreciate it. Those are pretty expensive for a pirate like me 😅

[cecilogical]

wanting to make fanmerch for myself but i have no clue how im going to go about making a vinyl record coaster

[millerdoc]

Love/Hate roller coasters: Hate.

Go to Starbucks order: regular americano with a dash of hot milk

One skill you wish you had: Would like to be a singer. Singing, yeah...or dancing.

Any bizarre talents: mimicking the old vinyl recording of the cuckoo

[thepointtopoint]

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