#wrote this listening to a song

[candybowbeansies]

Wayfaring Stranger

warnings/notes: implied deaths and many, many timeloops from birth to death and bodily disfigurement, hints at suicidal tendencies if you really squint hard, game spoilers but rlly it’s hinted at the beginning at the game so not really, reader is Sol but still will be written as Y/N, y'all this game has me hook line and sinker I need to write for it starting nyow.

heavily inspired by the song Wayfaring Stranger popularized by the movie 1917, because to me that song is Sol, the game’s player character. Drifting through many pasts, constants, and even more futures, all while losing so much while so young, yet gaining much more, the only moment’s reprieve being the time of their passing, only to look forward to the journey onto the next past, present, and future. Sym’s POV and alt!au(Dys doesn’t meet Sym), written very differently than the game because I’m jealous of Dys, and Sym falls in love with reader first before Dys(likewise for Dys) Sym+DysxReader

Currently only writing for Dys and Sym! They’re the characters I know best as of writing this i have a thing for tdh 😀 there’s also the possibility of me crossing over BNHA into this fandom bc i may or may not have many ideas sitting in the back of my head--

Underage characters are Aged Up!

It’s the final nail in the coffin for Sym when he hears Reader singing by sheer chance. He falls in love.

You were an oddity among the humans. Only a short time after you and the others crashed, did he see a short human-a child, the taller ones referred to you as-braving outside your ridiculous constructs. And it wasn't long before another shorter one followed suit. You preferred all-around nature’s colors and he preferred ones from Glow season. Dys, you called him, while in turn, he called you Y/N. A name so beautiful, and so familiar…he’s dreamed of you, quite literally.

For some time, he’d watch over you two, watching you two grow closer to adulthood; curious, stubborn little wonders. You grew in similar likeness to the grass in the plains, each passing year creating things within him he’d not felt before, or for a very, very long time. He found himself trying to negotiate your survival, more and more as time went by.

While out fulfilling your curiosities, he found you’d taken to humming to yourself. 

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy; sadness and acceptance for the inevitable.

“I'm traveling through this world of woe,”

It wasn’t until now, by sheer chance…

“Yet there's no sickness, toil nor danger,”

He found you singing to yourself, in desolation. You found this area for yourself, seasons ago;

“In that bright land to which I go.”

There was an unspoken promise between you and your other half, Dys. You both respected each other's boundaries, but yet there seemed to be a sixth sense in each of you for the other.

“I'm going there to see my father,”

If one was in need, the other would find and comfort them. Like this, it wasn’t long before Dys, too, was pulled by you.

“I'm going there, no more to roam.”

He recognized Dys’ pained expression. And it gave a pang in his chest, too. In some far off dimension within his dreams, he saw you in a beautiful glade…your form marred for life, so desolate, but still filled with so much hope.

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

He had an inkling that you, too, had the power of foresight. To say you two were attached by the hands wouldn’t necessarily be a lie; after all, one or the other would be led on for most of the time you spent exploring. 

“I'm only going over home…”

Sometimes, you’d stop Dys from going on a path; and through his connection with Vertumna, he’d find either the presence of danger, or nothing at all.

“I know dark clouds will gather round me,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy, sadness, acceptance…

“I know my way is rough and steep,”

But yet, at the same time, of hope and conviction.

“But golden fields lie just before me,”

Faith that soon, everything will end…

“Where God's redeemed shall ever sleep…”

…even if just momentarily.

“I'm going home to see my mother,”

“Sym?” he hears Dys whisper, fiddling with the grass, having found a comfortable spot to give you your space. He finds himself slightly surprised, but if it was you who told Dys about him, then it’d make sense the young man just barely out of his teens knows of his existence.

“And all my loved ones who've gone on…”

They hear your voice crack. Sym hears your breath waver. “They just lost their dad…” Dys didn’t seem particularly sad-just understanding. “Again, they said.”

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

“They were the first to understand me. To believe me. It’s only right that I do the same.” Dys says, leaning back on his palms. “Sym?” he calls again.

“I'm only going over home.”

Your voice dips off, into soft hums. They fill the area in melancholy, for what feels like an eternity.

“Will it ever end?” Dys asks. He knew what Dys was asking. Will your pain ever end? He warps silently into the area behind Dys. You humans are so emotional, Sym swears, it’s contagious. “There’s no way to know. The universe is vast, petal.” he tells Dys, recognizing sadness in his own voice. Dys snorts, “They said something similar.” before craning his head to get a better look at his towering form. “You’re famous, you know that?” Dys says. He chuckles, smiling sweetly. Dys simply rolls his eyes, before standing up. “They talk so much about you, even I like you…” the ravenette mutters almost begrudgingly under his breath, patting off imaginary dust before turning, unperturbed by the difference in height, reaching out his hand. He stares at the offered hand. “Well?” Dys pipes up impatiently, “Don’t you wanna meet them?” waving his hand a few times.

He can’t help but smile, remembering a distant memory from a distant past as he reaches out, allowing himself to be led to you.

“Y/N!” Dys calls with his own form of enthusiasm, “Guess who I finally caught. Told you I’d do it one day!” making you turn.

Your torso was mangled by decade old scars, and you were missing an eye, an arm and a leg, supported by contraptions; one to lean on, and one to replace your leg. “Sym! Dys!” dream you called out, full of joy as they approached.

The current you, who exists right now, simply bounds towards them, arms outstretched.

“I love you.” dream you sighs, leaning into their embrace.

You giggle tearily, latching awkwardly onto them due to your differences in height. Dys goes red and tenses right up, “Y-You--! You’re too much sometimes, you know that?” sputtering at the impact. He’s somewhat used to it, it appears, as he softens up a little. “Geez…love you, too.” he huffs, bashfully.

So that’s the fluttering in his chest? Love. Love. It’s love.

That has a nice ring to it, he smiles. Yes...he's in love with you.

[shuckinbeanz]

Wayfaring Stranger

warnings/notes: implied deaths and many, many timeloops from birth to death and bodily disfigurement, hints at suicidal tendencies if you really squint hard, game spoilers but rlly it’s hinted at the beginning at the game so not really, reader is Sol but still will be written as Y/N, y'all this game has me hook line and sinker I need to write for it starting nyow.

heavily inspired by the song Wayfaring Stranger popularized by the movie 1917, because to me that song is Sol, the game’s player character. Drifting through many pasts, constants, and even more futures, all while losing so much while so young, yet gaining much more, the only moment’s reprieve being the time of their passing, only to look forward to the journey onto the next past, present, and future. Sym’s POV and alt!au(Dys doesn’t meet Sym), written very differently than the game because I’m jealous of Dys, and Sym falls in love with reader first before Dys(likewise for Dys) Sym+DysxReader

Currently only writing for Dys and Sym! They’re the characters I know best as of writing this i have a thing for tdh 😀 there’s also the possibility of me crossing over BNHA into this fandom bc i may or may not have many ideas sitting in the back of my head--

Underage characters are Aged Up!

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

It’s the final nail in the coffin for Sym when he hears Reader singing by sheer chance. He falls in love.

You were an oddity among the humans. Only a short time after you and the others crashed, did he see a short human-a child, the taller ones referred to you as-braving outside your ridiculous constructs. And it wasn't long before another shorter one followed suit. You preferred all-around nature’s colors and he preferred ones from Glow season. Dys, you called him, while in turn, he called you Y/N. A name so beautiful, and so familiar…he’s dreamed of you, quite literally.

For some time, he’d watch over you two, watching you two grow closer to adulthood; curious, stubborn little wonders. You grew in similar likeness to the grass in the plains, each passing year creating things within him he’d not felt before, or for a very, very long time. He found himself trying to negotiate your survival, more and more as time went by.

While out fulfilling your curiosities, he found you’d taken to humming to yourself. 

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy; sadness and acceptance for the inevitable.

“I'm traveling through this world of woe,”

It wasn’t until now, by sheer chance…

“Yet there's no sickness, toil nor danger,”

He found you singing to yourself, in desolation. You found this area for yourself, seasons ago;

“In that bright land to which I go.”

There was an unspoken promise between you and your other half, Dys. You both respected each other's boundaries, but yet there seemed to be a sixth sense in each of you for the other.

“I'm going there to see my father,”

If one was in need, the other would find and comfort them. Like this, it wasn’t long before Dys, too, was pulled by you.

“I'm going there, no more to roam.”

He recognized Dys’ pained expression. And it gave a pang in his chest, too. In some far off dimension within his dreams, he saw you in a beautiful glade…your form marred for life, so desolate, but still filled with so much hope.

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

He had an inkling that you, too, had the power of foresight. To say you two were attached by the hands wouldn’t necessarily be a lie; after all, one or the other would be led on for most of the time you spent exploring. 

“I'm only going over home…”

Sometimes, you’d stop Dys from going on a path; and through his connection with Vertumna, he’d find either the presence of danger, or nothing at all.

“I know dark clouds will gather round me,”

A bewitching melody of melancholy, sadness, acceptance…

“I know my way is rough and steep,”

But yet, at the same time, of hope and conviction.

“But golden fields lie just before me,”

Faith that soon, everything will end…

“Where God's redeemed shall ever sleep…”

…even if just momentarily.

“I'm going home to see my mother,”

“Sym?” he hears Dys whisper, fiddling with the grass, having found a comfortable spot to give you your space. He finds himself slightly surprised, but if it was you who told Dys about him, then it’d make sense the young man just barely out of his teens knows of his existence.

“And all my loved ones who've gone on…”

They hear your voice crack. Sym hears your breath waver. “They just lost their dad…” Dys didn’t seem particularly sad-just understanding. “Again, they said.”

“I'm only going over Jordan,”

“They were the first to understand me. To believe me. It’s only right that I do the same.” Dys says, leaning back on his palms. “Sym?” he calls again.

“I'm only going over home.”

Your voice dips off, into soft hums. They fill the area in melancholy, for what feels like an eternity.

“Will it ever end?” Dys asks. He knew what Dys was asking. Will your pain ever end? He warps silently into the area behind Dys. You humans are so emotional, Sym swears, it’s contagious. “There’s no way to know. The universe is vast, petal.” he tells Dys, recognizing sadness in his own voice. Dys snorts, “They said something similar.” before craning his head to get a better look at his towering form. “You’re famous, you know that?” Dys says. He chuckles, smiling sweetly. Dys simply rolls his eyes, before standing up. “They talk so much about you, even I like you…” the ravenette mutters almost begrudgingly under his breath, patting off imaginary dust before turning, unperturbed by the difference in height, reaching out his hand. He stares at the offered hand. “Well?” Dys pipes up impatiently, “Don’t you wanna meet them?” waving his hand a few times.

He can’t help but smile, remembering a distant memory from a distant past as he reaches out, allowing himself to be led to you.

“Y/N!” Dys calls with his own form of enthusiasm, “Guess who I finally caught. Told you I’d do it one day!” making you turn.

Your torso was mangled by decade old scars, and you were missing an eye, an arm and a leg, supported by contraptions; one to lean on, and one to replace your leg. “Sym! Dys!” dream you called out, full of joy as they approached.

The current you, who exists right now, simply bounds towards them, arms outstretched.

“I love you.” dream you sighs, leaning into their embrace.

You giggle tearily, latching awkwardly onto them due to your differences in height. Dys goes red and tenses right up, “Y-You--! You’re too much sometimes, you know that?” sputtering at the impact. He’s somewhat used to it, it appears, as he softens up a little. “Geez…love you, too.” he huffs, bashfully.

So that’s the fluttering in his chest? Love. Love. It’s love.

That has a nice ring to it, he smiles. Yes...he's in love with you.

[junglejim4322]

“Touch me while your bros play grand theft auto” the tortured poet screams

[esaari]

just Creed things

[kelin-is-writing]

fwb!touya who despite your agreement on not necessarily having to stop seeing other peoples, has deleted the contacts of the two or three girls he used to occasionally hook up with, when you weren’t around, the moment you two had started your relationship and everytime he crosses paths with them at school he barely even acknowledges their existence. why? ohh that’s because the moment you, the girl he desires on a soul-type of level, has agreed to be in all this with him touya’s eyes haven’t been able to look away from you, not even for a split second.

fwb!touya who a mere call or text for you telling him how much you miss and want to see him, is enough to make him skip practices with his rock band only to run over to your place and spend time with you. be it doing homework, watching movies or those weird reality shows that secretly pique his interest, playing games that usually end up in heated makeout sessions, you putting on nail polish while he styles your hair, cooking together, napping together, having sex four or five times. just you two basically being all over each others at any given occasion. touya wanted you close to him as much as possible and he was going to have exactly that.

fwb!touya who keeps telling himself you two are just ‘friends with benefits’ but from time to time he finds himself playing the guitar, compose and writes songs while thinking about you. he would’ve never wanted to admit it, for the moment, but you’ve been his muse since the first day you guys meet and the major reason for it was your smile, your laugh, your voice… that beautiful spark in your eyes whenever you looked at him… it made his heart warm up and a pleasing emptiness take over his stomach… shit… this wasn’t good at all, he was going into a dangerous territory right there and it wasn’t supposed to happen.

fwb!touya who has never marked any girl he’s sleep with before nor has he ever permitted them to mark him, because he has never felt the need to do that with his past flings; yet it took only one week, three days, fourteen hours, thirty-two minutes and twenty-six seconds in your relationship to make him go around the campus proudly, a shit-eating grin on his face, with your glossy lipstick imprint onto the side of his neck right where everyone could see it while you walked around with his teethes’ mark on your neck; a statement dedicated to everybody in the school that told all of them he is yours and you are his.

fwb!touya who never holds back from showing off to everyone your close relationship. you could be talking to a classmate and he would walk up to you surrounding your waist with an arm, pulling you flush against his side, and ask genuinely curious and interested what you guys were talking about while leaning his cheek against your head as he hummed along to the explanation you gave him with that voice of yours that is as beautiful as you are, completely smitten and mesmerized. once you were talking with another classmate of yours, that was assigned as a committee with you for a school festival, about some preparations when he came up to you ignoring the other person’s presence and just fixing his intense gaze on you while asking if everything was alright and if you needed any help while delicately moving a strand of hair behind your ear and then rest it gently on the back of your head to let you know that it was fine to lean on him whenever things became too much.

fwb!touya who keeps telling you and himself that the two of you are just ‘friends with benefits’, but the way he fucks you, talks to you and overall treats you are far from being those of an actual ‘friends with benefits’ and he doesn’t notice until a random guy who’s a schoolmate of you two and fan of his band starts asking him about you, throws glances your way, tries (but fails) to flirt with you and touya is watching over you two seething as he smokes by the fences outside the school’s building, tomura being the one who makes him notices that he’s clenching his jaw so hard they can hear his teethes scratching together. it’s right then that he realizes that the reason he had suggested all that thing between you two wasn’t only because he was attracted to you, but because he has been in love with you the whole time since the start of your friendship.

[bluebellhairpin]

Oh, Odysseus no. Don't become the monster. Don't deal the blow. Don't become a monster unlike anything they’ve ever known. This life is amazing if you greet it with open arms. No matter what you face you'll be fine if you lead from the heart. Greet the world with open arms. Greet the world with open arms.

[avis-writeshq]

your friendly reminder that spencer reid will listen to any music you want. if he’s in your car and you want to play taylor swift, he’ll listen to it with no complaints. if you want to listen to olivia rodrigo and blast it all over the house, he’ll turn it up even louder. if you want to listen to kpop music, he’ll translate them for you and tell you what they mean after.

he’s not going to hate on your music if you don’t hate on his.

[deanckley]

it's their song now and their song only

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[takami-takami]

For His Pleasure.

kinktober day 1: love bites.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— gn!reader. keigo is such a good boy. slight masochism. marking. 

More often than not, a canvas takes the form of the flesh when it comes to Keigo Takami. 

Your breath fogs back against your lips when you're this close to the piercable skin of his neck. You dip down, fangs bared, and he cranes his neck so far back it could just about snap. A carnivorous, masochistic ringing in his mind won't let him forget how he wants nothing more than to expose the entire surface to you— to only you, vulnerable and ripe to be marked like a nametag signed into the flesh. 

Panting below you is a man who tends to hold little back. You've come to expect him in the raw. Frankly, you prefer it that way. It's advantageous to your relationship in every sense, pulling you closer together as you weave through challenges with ease, armed with communication as the hot knife that slices through the thick of conflict. 

But in the bedroom, that communicative nature of his translates quite nicely into behavior that is oh so responsive.

With his hands propped behind him to keep his body stable, you straddle him and mark his skin; and Keigo has never sounded as pliable as he does now. 

"This here," you whisper, tracing a finger from the center of his chin down his bobbing Adam's apple. "This is mine, baby." 

It is. You swear you catch the sweetest coo of agreement bubbling in his throat as you work on his flesh, his nape bared further by the way he lets his head fall back slack. Golden tufts are splayed against bare shoulders, cascading over the curvature of muscles formed to carry fierce wings. It brushes against his bare skin with each labored breath, and his head dips back like a strawberry in melted chocolate, decadent in its indulgence. 

Inside, he invites you, and you're willing to crawl.

Sticking up in wild tufts, you could count the mussed strands of hair poking in every direction atop his head. Memories depicting how you played with and pulled them flash in your mind's eye, reminding you of how the soft texture felt running like water through the valleys between your fingers.

You discovered it pretty early on in your relationship: the pretty boy likes his hair pulled. It's an activity that soothes him, the controlled sparks of pain pulling a lopsided smile as he spills the prettiest moans. 

"More— Harder,” he begs. “Please, angel, gimme more."

Keigo doesn't want to look perfect. He wants to look taken. He wants to look loved. 

Most nights, he studies your work like a ritual. He stands before the bathroom mirror after you've finished each masterpiece, admiring the blooming bruises that burst forth in shades of red and violet for longer than he probably should. Barely suppressing a giddy smile, Keigo simply walks past the comb on the counter without a second thought, opting to keep the mess that is his hair intact before he returns to bed— before he returns to you.

Yeah, he definitely prefers this look to the one suggested by his hairstylist.

For as selfless as Hawks is at his core, gluttony is a language Keigo speaks fluently when he allows himself to; when it's safe to, when it doesn't affect his work, when he can sink his teeth into the concentrated comfort and moan like a goddamn whore once it bursts in his mouth. 

Concentrated methods of comfort... It's an amicable way to describe a vice.

It keeps him sane. 

You noticed it first with food; with the way he glues his eyes shut and sighs, chewing agonizingly slow with his eyes rolled back, letting the flavors burst atop his palette. He only allows the delicacy to be swallowed down his throat after every bit of pleasure has been milked to the fullest. 

It's even more apparent in his slouch when he sinks into the scalding burn that fills his porcelain tub after work. You’ve taken the pleasure of watching him sink alongside you, submerged down to the nose as the heat melts the crackling neurons that sing in his brain. It's evident in the way he throws his head back and sucks his teeth at the patter of the showerhead against his back, how his breathing slows to panting groans the moment he turns the knob as hot as it will go. 

And here in the sanctity of your bed, Keigo sits poised, the picture of blissed out debauchery. His eyes haven't peeked open in some time; if that and the labored rise and fall of his chest is any indication, he's fallen too far down to pleasure to be reasoned with. 

Good. 

You like a man you can bend.

"You're so good to me." Another moan slips out at a nip against his jaw. His pleasure-drunk smile never wavers, even when he raises one hand to paw at the bend of your hips. Like this, he can slide his calloused hands along the divots imprinted by his teeth, ghosting against each bruise with a glint of conquest in his eyes. 

With each mark sucked into his skin, a plethora of sounds grace your ears: hisses, whimpers, outright and unabashed moans. 

"Gonna show me off, baby?" The ghost of his stolen air creaks when he speaks. His word choice is an attempt to sound cocky, you’re sure, but an unmistakable whine laces that breathless tone. 

Still running his mouth even as he squirms, you appraise. You roll your eyes; but you can't find it in you to judge when he sounds this happy. 

Rosy cheeks and a toothy grin; this is what Keigo wears when he's experiencing true happiness. In the solace of your bed, his customer service façade drops to the floor alongside his clothes to reveal his innermost sunshine you've come to adore. 

"Mark me up and show 'em. All of this s'yours."

He arches his back, bowing off the bed in a manner more reminiscent of a feline than a bird; and you can’t help but dive into him, feeding off his indulgence once more. 

…

There's a pep in his step when he swipes his ID card with a flourish at the front desk this morning. 

Keigo flips a kick and a stutter with the rhythm of his walk, coat flaring with his little spin as he swings open his office door. When the people around him snap their necks to gawk, their head-turning stares are simply met with a dopey smile and a wave.

Your relationship going public was the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Some commission executive glares down her nose at his neck, glasses glinting a reflection of the light in Keigo’s eyes. 

I know, right, he wants to say, lovesick and claimed at last. 

[snaillock]

“last night i dreamt we did our laundry together”

boyfriend!isagi who can barely handle being around you since you’re his first love and he wants to do everything right. who can barely hold your hand for long without melting and feeling his systems sputtering.

boyfriend!isagi who didn’t know how much he was missing until he met you.

boyfriend!isagi who loves hearing how much you love him. no matter how many times and ways you say it, it will never get old.

boyfriend!isagi who’s so observant that he can spot the slightest negative mood shift in you.

boyfriend!isagi who loves it whenever you cradle his face in your hands to kiss him.

boyfriend!isagi who has practice cancelled on a rainy day so he spends it snuggling with you under layers of heavy blankets, wasting the day away. though it’s never a waste to him.

husband!isagi who loves the mundane. despite his stardom, nothing beats folding the laundry with you on the couch.

husband!isagi who loves cooking with you even if you generously eyeballing all the measurements freaks him out as he believes in following the recipe by the book.

husband!isagi who secretly sprays some of the perfume/cologne that you wear the most onto one of his clothes before a distant game so he’ll have something special whenever he misses you.

husband!isagi who wants nothing more than to grow old with you.

please read and respect my dni/byf before reblogging/following

taglist(sign up here!!): @leosxrealm @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo @remy-roll @maochira @starchivves @catmisu

[dilemmaed]

having coriolanus walk out on lucy gray's LOVE SONG ABOUT HIM just to spy on sejanus was a choice for sure. she did not go that hard on the prolonged "snow" for him to not listen to the whole thing.... the power of gay obsession is absolutely ridiculous.

[princessdarth-vader]

i can't stop thinkng about kristen this episode. her kindness. her honesty. she sees a grieving man; a man she hates, a man who has wronged her and hurt her, a man who she would be well within her right to vow to destroy, to laugh at his pain. and she says "it's too sad not to tell him". she tells him the truth about what she knows. a hard truth, but a necessary truth. he doesn't believe her, but she tells him anyway, because she cares. because this is a world barely a step from hers.

she talks to her brother, and she doesn't try to make a grand gesture. she doesn't try to heroically convince him to turn away. she empathises, she's been there. she tells him she understands. and she meets his doubt with courage, with a hand to hold, with a lantern to light up the overwhelming darkness. she offers him the hand he needs when he's too afraid to ask for it.

she talk to jawbone. she sees how hard a time he's having, and she reaches out. she helps, and she tells him that her plan was to take advantage of him, but she couldn't go through with it. she's honest and kind and giving at every fucking turn, and she tries again and again and again.

it's in the way she would still reach out and try to reconnect with her parents, who let her down and betrayed her trust and innocence. The way she insisted that buddy be revived, and was hopeless when she could do nothing to help. for all her chaos and bits, kristen is one of the most heartfelt and genuine characters in dimension 20 and i fully fully believe that.

[pizzaqueen]

464 words of pre-slash pining fluff for day one of @steddie-week / rated G or T

It’s not as tight a fit in the listening booth as Eddie hoped it would be, but it does get him closer to Steve than he’s been all day. (Well, except for when he draped himself all over Steve at their table in the food court, or when they were pressed close in the photo booth, Eddie goading Steve into making goofy faces, or when their knees were resting together at the movies earlier.)

But they’re in their own bubble here. The rest of the world completely shut out. Just the two of them, one set of headphones, and a song shared between them.

Eddie has the album at home, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Steve knows that, but he didn’t resist when Eddie dragged him in here with one hand curled around Steve’s wrist, the other clutching the album they’re listening to now.

The song is so familiar and it fades to the background as Eddie watches Steve sidelong; the drums keep time with the beat of his heart, the howling guitar could be the singing in his blood. He catches Steve looking at him, once, twice, three times, his pulse skipping whenever their gazes lock.

This is almost everything Eddie wants. Listening to music with Steve, forgetting about the world beyond the song and the space between them. It would be perfect if he was sure that Steve’s heart is beating as hard as his, that his skin tingles at the nearness of Eddie, the way Eddie’s skin is tingling, now, being so close to Steve. The way his stomach swoops, and his chest feels full to bursting, how he’s every single fucking hopelessly in love cliche whenever they’re together, and even more when they’re not.

But he doesn’t know. He has no fucking clue. Sometimes, maybe, he thinks—hopes—but how can he be sure? He’s out of his depths here. It drives him crazy but, fuck, in moments like this he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve shifts, their hips bumping together, the brush of his arm against Eddie’s sending electricity through him. It draws Steve closer and he doesn’t move away, so they listen to the rest of the song pressed close, like the booth is half the size.

“So”—Eddie pulls his side of the headphones away from his ear when the song ends—“what did you think?” He bites his lip, kicks Steve’s foot.

“I think I liked it.” Steve’s gaze flicks outside the booth, then fixes back on Eddie. His eyes twinkle, warm and dark, and he turns so he’s facing Eddie fully. He licks his lips and leans in, saying, “But maybe we could listen to it again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, a smile forming, “maybe we could,” and he starts the song over.

[javelinbk]

Ringo wrote a song - part one (part two, part three)

While in Auckland, New Zealand, the Beatles talk to Bob Rogers about Ringo's songwriting, 25th June 1964

George: As far as Ringo and I are concerned, we'll leave the songwriting to... Paul: Oh! Excuse me... Ringo: Err, excuse me, Paul is going to sing the one I've written! Paul: Now, I can't… I can't quite remember it… Ringo: Well I'll— Paul: But even so— Ringo: Just for a plug, Paul Paul: We've just… Ringo has written one, called 'Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue'… a beautiful melody Ringo: No— Paul: A sincere thought Ringo: That’s it, yes Paul: 'Don't Pass Me By', it's called Ringo: Don't miss… that's what it's called George: But Elvis killed it Ringo: Elvis killed it… what? Bob: What? George: When he did it Bob: Elvis killed it? Ringo: No, he didn't Paul: No, but you really… this is Ringo's first venture into songwriting John: Are you going to sing it for us now, Ringo? Ringo: I'm not going to sing it, Paul's going to sing it Paul: {singing} Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue, yeah-yeah Ringo: It's got a blues feeling Paul: Blues feeling, you know. {singing} Now, darlin', I know John: I thought it was going to be Crumbly & Western? Ringo: It was going to be a Western— John: Crumbly & West… one of those Ringo: —but Paul gave it the nicest Blues feeling man, and it knocked me out John: It knocked you out, even though you wrote it? Ringo: In fact, I'm going to get a tape of him singing it for me very own Bob: Are the Beatles going to record it? Ringo: I don't know... Paul: You never know Ringo: I don't think so, actually — I keep trying to push it on them every time we make a record John: And we always try and do it, but unluckily, there's never quite enough time to fit Ringo's song on… because he never finishes it. Ringo: Is it finished? Paul: It's finished Ringo: We finished it

[del-stars]

there's a fame au in my head where sirius is just a worldwide phenomenon popstar and remus is just some folk/country artist that randomly attracted the attention of hordes of lesbians