#Safe Suburban Home Records

[verytinysongs]

Coin de l'​œ​il by Healees

Band Name: Healees Labels: Hidden Bay Records(FR), Safe Suburban Home Records (UK + US) / Indie or Die Records (FR). Location: Paris, France Release Date: October 11, 2024 Tags: alternative, dream pop , indie pop, indie rock, psychedelic pop, shoegaze Recommended Tune: White Room, Tiny Head Link: Bandcamp

[iloveyoubuddy]

“Hidden levels”, one of many outstanding tracks from my favorite LP of 2023, Electric Threads by Dignan Porch

Bandcamp:

[bandcampsnoop]

10/17/23.

Captain Starlet are yet another brother tandem (Busman's Holiday is one too!) band (not to be confused with the wedding band Captain Scarlet). I'm assuming they're an England-based band - they recently had a show in York and this 2 song cassette is being released by UK label Safe Suburban Home Records.

It's hard not to immediately think of Teenage Fanclub when listening to "Self-Portrait". But I'm also thinking of the great mid-tempo pop of Pale Lights or Thomas Walsh of Pugwash. The 2nd song doesn't really sound Teenage Fanclub-ish - rather it sounds like a lo-fi version of Beulah or Ireland's Soft on Crime.

[guiltyasdave]

every breath you take

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Dave is investigating a case, but ends up being much more interested in the target's girlfriend.

word count: 1.7k

tags/warnings: dark content!!! stalker!dave, non-consensual voyerism, more things that i don't want to spoil, but if you don't like dark stuff you won't like this okay?, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced dave, allusions to smut, angst

a/n: ...i was in the mood to try my hand at a dark dave, so i did :) written for @punkshort's au challenge, where i got detective!dave, which i took and ran with lmao

so much love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who has received a thousand voice notes over this, kept me from killing everyone, and gave me the idea for the final twist <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

It had started the first time Dave heard your voice, ringing through his headphones as he was sitting at his desk, taking notes on last nights’ recordings. He had just taken on the case, a promise of quiet observational work, gathering evidence. The only requirement to stay invisible. Easy enough.

Your name had popped up in the case file. Romantic partner. Female. Involvement unclear. A note in the back of his head, filed away. That was before he knew you. 

Before he sat at his desk, headphones on, not breathing for what felt like hours. Before he unfroze, straightening his back, digging through the file for a photograph of you. Staring at the blurry pixels, at the sweet smile directed at your boyfriend. 

His line of work had long lost the excitement it gave him when he first started, the buzz that he had once felt when after months of investigation, a case was solved. But this. This was new, this was fun. 

He found himself listening so much more intently when you were present, waiting for your name being mentioned when you weren’t. 

There hasn’t been much fun in his life since the divorce. Not seeing the girls nearly as much as he would like to. Coming home to an empty house in the evening, no traces left of the family life that he always prided himself with. One could say that he’s lonely, he guesses.

It’s late in the evening, his car parked in front of the unassuming suburban house, perfect with a white picket fence, the porch surrounded by carefully maintained flowers. Your work, as he knows by now. It’s so easy, imagining you in his house, so similar to the one you’re living in now.

He should be paying close attention to your boyfriend, should monitor his every step, should take notes, photos if necessary. Instead, his eyes are glued to you. 

Watching you move from the living room to the kitchen, picturing you in the same rooms in his house instead. Reaching up to a cupboard, crouching down in front of the oven, moving around the counters. He grits his teeth when your boyfriend comes up behind you, crowds you in, his hands all over your body. Lips against your neck. You leaning into the touch, a soft smile on your lips. That should be him. 

Maybe, if he tries hard enough, later tonight he’ll look at his own kitchen counter and see you there. Maybe he’ll be able to pretend, even for a moment, that your sweet, sweet smile is directed at him. That your voice rings out with the sound of his name instead of the douchebag that calls himself your boyfriend. 

You deserve so much better. Someone to take care of you, to keep you safe. To love you the way you should be loved. You deserve someone like him and he doesn’t understand how you don’t see that. How you don’t look out the window, spot him across the street, and just know. The way he did. 

Of course things didn’t work out with Carol. How could they, when you were waiting for him? 

But you don’t look out the window. You turn around, a laugh on your lips. Silent, from his vantage point outside of your house, your life. But he knows the sound, knows how beautiful it sounds, how it always brings a smile to his own face. He has listened to it over and over, after all. Maybe, one day he’ll be able to experience both at once, to see your face scrunch up, crinkles forming around your eyes and your nose, while his ears pick up on the pearly sound that he’s gotten addicted to. It’s almost embarrassing, how much longer it takes him to listen to tapes when you’re on them. How often he rewinds, how meticulously he commits every single sound that you let out to memory.

It isn’t lost on him that you love your boyfriend. He’s not delusional, after all. You just don’t know how much better you could have it. It’s not your fault, of course. He understands, he wants to help you, wants to make you see. 

You don’t know who the man you live with really is, he doesn’t think. You don’t know about the blood-stained money that bought the house you live in, don’t question when he comes home late at night, when he leaves the room to make a call. 

Dave would never treat you like this. He’d be so, so good to you. Because he knows you, better than that guy ever will, and he hasn’t even met you. Yet. 

It almost seems too easy. He has dirt, more than enough of it, to send your boyfriend to jail for a long, long time. He could finish up the case. But he likes to keep watching. At least until he knows what to do with you. 

It’s late one evening, the golden light from your living room spilling out across the lawn. Dave’s back is stiff from folding his body into the car seat all day, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay. Just a glimpse of you would be enough. Right now, all he can see is the back of your boyfriend’s head behind an armchair.

As if his thoughts had summoned you, you glide into the room, just as gorgeous as always. Wearing nothing but lacy black underwear, a coy smile on your face, directed at the man that Dave has come to hate. The man who doesn’t deserve your smile, doesn’t deserve to lay eyes on you, let alone touch you. The hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer until it’s body against body— they should be Dave’s. 

The shutter clicks quietly. No one but him will see these photos, they won’t be submitted to the case file. But he already knows that he’ll be looking at them over and over, pouring over them in the darkness of his home, until every inch, every crevice of your body is seared into his memories. 

You giggle, muted by the distance and the windows separating him from you, but he still hears the sound in his ear as if he was standing right next to you. He knows you. Fingers intertwined, you pull your boyfriend with you, up the stairs and out of view. It stings. He’d be lying to say that it didn’t. But not much longer now. He just needs a plan. 

He has already cleared any evidence that even hints at you possessing any knowledge of the criminal activities surrounding the man that you’re with right now. You won’t go down with him, you’re safe. Of course you are. Dave will always protect what’s his. You’ll see.

Later, when all the lights in your house are turned off and he has returned to his own home, his thoughts race with the image of you. All that skin on display, the smiles and giggles, the teasing. Maybe you do know. Maybe it’s a game that you’re both playing, maybe you wanted him to see. 

He lets the hot spray of the shower rain down his back, the heat slowly easing the hardened muscles in his back. Still, all he sees is you. He doesn’t even need to close his eyes. In his mind, you’re right there with him. It’s his body that you’re pressed against, his fingers digging into your flesh. He almost tastes your soft breaths, feels all the mewling sounds that he could pull from you against his lips. He could give you everything you want, could make you feel better than anyone else ever has. You’re meant for him. 

He’d turn you around, press you against the hard wall, one hand on your shoulder, pulling you back against his body as he fills you up. You’d be so tight, so warm and wet around him. He’d drive into you, again and again, over and over, until the only thing you know is his name. Until he’s everything you’ll ever need.

It happens one week later. You were supposed to be asleep. They were going to intercept your boyfriend before he could enter the house. Dave doesn’t know what went wrong, why the team fucked up like this. 

He runs inside when he hears you scream, standing in the kitchen. Your eyes wide, shining with the image of your boyfriend’s blood slowly spreading across the white tiles. With a wild expression on your face, you make a grab for the knife block. 

It all goes by incredibly fast. In the blink of an eye, Dave’s world comes crashing down around him. One of the men lunges at you, attempting to tackle you to the ground. Your head connects with the kitchen counter in a sickening crunch. A second later, your limp body hits the ground. 

It’s agony, waiting for you to wake up. He lets people think that he’s just invested in his case, that he feels guilty about how things went down. No one interferes when he handles the hospital proceedings, knowing better than to question him. Or when he doesn’t let anyone else near you. Or when he barely leaves your side, staring at your unconscious face, your hand weak in his. 

He listens attentively to the doctors, his brows knitted deeply, his lips pursed in worry. No part of it is fake. If his eyes widen at the words memory loss, the only plausible reason is his deep concern for you.

When your eyelids flutter open, when your gaze finds him for the very first time, his heart is racing in his chest. He squeezes your hand, resists the urge to smooth out the crease on your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake,” he breathes, not able to stop a smile from growing on his face.

You exhale sharply, pure confusion painting your features. So helpless without him. 

“W— who are you?” 

“I’m Dave, baby. Your fiancé, remember?”

A slow shake of your head, your brows pulling together. Quietly echoing his name back to him, more like a question.

Until the only thing you know is his name. Until he’s everything you’ll ever need.

thank you for reading, aaaahhhhh! i have never written anything really dark before and i'm a little nervous tbh, so please let me know if you liked this <3

[fandomnerd9602]

Proposal

Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

For @lifespectator

Things were finally slowing down for the Avengers, Earth finally had a little bit of peace. Tony had retired, Steve went back in time. But for Wanda, there was still one thing that alluded her.

Wanda always wanted a family. It always alluded her. She had yet to truly fall in love. No real dates or engagements. But yet she always had you, her best friend. You were her support on most field missions.

The two of you hung out after missions. Little lunch hangouts, times at the movies, the record shops. Wanda always felt normal with you. Honestly it surprised her that you didn’t have anyone in your life yet.

“Surely you could find yourself a girlfriend” Wanda found herself laughing one night.

“Hey if I’m not too busy saving the world, I’m saving you” you respond with a smile.

Wanda always looked forward to hanging out with her best friend. You were there for her thru every heartache and painful memory.

But now things were changing. The Avengers were coming to an end. The world was safe and Thanos was gone. Tony had settled down. Steve went back in time to be with Peggy. And all Wanda could think about was her next step.

“You are you don’t wished to be trained?” Wong asks Wanda as she packs up her things.

“I-I think it’s time I retire,” Wanda states, “I-I want to be a mother. I want a home in the suburbs and…I can’t get that as an Avenger”

“Motherhood” Wong smirks, “some would say it’s more dangerous than being a superhero”

“The hardest part is trying find a donor. Someone to be the father of my kids” Wanda rubs her neck shyly. “I-I did think of someone”

“Who?”

“(Y/N)” she gives a nervous laugh.

“Y/N?” Wong simply summons a portal and leaves, “good luck Maximoff”

Wanda finishes packing her belongings from her room. She couldn’t help but smile. You were her first choice. Her only choice really. Honestly she couldn’t think of anyone else, she didn’t want anyone else.

Wanda’s thoughts were disrupted by the sudden sound of her ringtone. A simple glance to her phone reveals your name on her caller ID.

“Hey Red” you smile from your end of the phone call.

“Hey” Wanda smiles.

“I bought a little house in Westview, a couple miles from the compound” you explain, “I was wondering if you’d come and see it with me”

“Y-yeah” Wanda found herself giggling. A little house hunting with her best friend.

You and Wanda drive to the address, as you told her, a couple miles from the compound in the cozy little town of Westview. It was still trying to recover after the Snap, like all towns were. But it's property costs were low and the value was only rising.

"And here we are" you smile as you pull outside a two story suburban house. It had a classic brick style to it with a white picket fence. Wanda couldn't help but gasp. It was everything she ever dreamed of, like a long forgotten desire.

"You have a great eye" Wanda whispers.

You pull out the key, "Wanna take a look?"

Every step, every moment that Wanda spent in that house. It made her fall in love with it, more and more. Spending each moment with you, how you talked about your dreams for the place, it all made her fall for you more and more too.

Wanda found herself dreaming of the life she could have in this house with you. Your children taking their first steps. Your first Christmas in this house with her.

"I-It's a lot of room for just one person" Wanda remarks as your guided tour came to an end.

"Well I'm gonna need a roommate" you rub the back of your neck, "figured you might be interest?"

Wanda nodded so fiercely, "yes! I'd love to."

Moving day was fast approaching and yet Wanda was still unsure of how to approach you with her little proposal. She never thought it'd be so difficult to ask someone such a question. But even practicing it in the mirror left her tongue tied.

You finished moving all the boxes of your stuff and hers into the house. You gave Wanda the master bedroom, you were more than happy taking the guest room. Wanda glances down the hallway from the master bedroom. There was still two empty rooms. Perfect, in her mind, for two kids.

You rolled out a sleeping bag in your room. "Where's your bed?" Wanda asks

"Still in the mail." you huff, "never had to buy one when I was an Avenger."

"Well mine's already assembled, you can sleep with me" Wanda said nonchalantly, she immediately found herself going beet red. "I-I mean we can share a bed...I-I-"

You laugh, "I got what you mean, Red. Come on downstairs, I got take out ready for us"

You got the fireplace lit and a little TV set up for Wanda. It didn't take her long to locate a network playing the Dick Van Dyke show. You and Wanda spend the better part of the evening talking about old memories at the compound.

"Y/N" Wanda found herself swallowing hard. "I-I think I know what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"Alright Red, tell me" you smile at her.

"I want a family." Wanda takes a deep breath, "I want kids. I want a white picket fence. I-I want to be a mother"

"Wow" you reply, "I think you'd be perfect at that"

"Really?"

"Yeah" you smile, 'you'd be an amazing mother. I can see it now, you'd cheer for your kids at every game. You'd be an amazing guide for them. Knowing you, you'd be perfect at that. Any kid would be lucky to have you as a mother. I just hope that I'm there to see it"

Wanda blushes and blurts out, "I want you to be the father of my kids"

"Me?" you find yourself in shock

"I shouldn't have said that," Wanda tries to get up but you take her hand

"You want me to be their father?" you can feel some tears forming in your eyes.

"I-I mean we can go through a fertility clinic" Wanda tries to explain, "but honestly you're so kind and loving and I can't think of anyone else that I'd want to be the father of my kids. I-I love you."

"I've always loved you" you whisper back. "I-I was okay just being your friend. I-I thought that's all you wanted."

Wanda wraps her arms around your neck. Your hands move instinctively to her waist.

"So will you?" Wanda smiles, "please?"

"I want strings" you smile back, "I want to be there for you through it all."

Wanda giggles, "I'll take it. You, me, strings and all" She laughs with pure joy.

You pull her into a kiss. Her breath hitches. It felt so small and yet so perfect too. She kisses you back. First once then twice.

"Y/N?" she asks you in a gentle whisper

"Hmm?"

"Will you take me upstairs?" She wraps her legs around your waist as you hold her tight. Her eyes stare into yours with all the intent in the world.

"Oh? Oh." you figure it out before nodding and carrying her up the stairs and to her room. Wanda giggles the whole way.

Friends become lovers and lovers eventually become parents. The pathway for Wanda to find her family was a long and painful road. Luckily she met you, her best friend. The one who made that little house in Westview feel like a home.

[snowball-doie]

The Type of Dad Poly!Ilichil Is

Made this for anyone interested in my poly!ilichil x oc book~~ This is the kind of dad they all are with their daughter, Reyna. If you guys have any questions, my asks are open! Hope you enjoy!

Johnny - suburban dad Makes everyone's food, packs Reyna's school bag, asks about her day, gets her settled in her car seat and makes sure she’s safe, gets her after school snacks. He’s the one on all her paperwork, so he’s gotta be there for everythingggggggg-- Dance recitals, sports games, pre-k graduation, etc.

Taeyong - tired dad Falls asleep everywhere in the house with Reyna laying on top of him. He didn’t get to spend much time with her when she was a baby because of his enlistment, so he does a lot to make up time with her now. Likes to spoil her with expensive gifts. Teaches her to dance. Front row for all of her school events and performances so he can record and take pics like an embaeassinglty proud dad.

Yuta - fashionista dad Picks out all of Reyna's outfits, buys all of her clothes, very critical of the outfits the other boys try to put her in whenever he's not around. Goes with her to the hair salon to make sure the stylist doesn’t fuck up his daughter’s hair— Loves to wear matching outfits with her omfg….. Very casual, so he only picks her up when she runs over to him and asks. Teaches her to speak Japanese, insists that she only speaks Japanese when talking to him. Takes her to Japan whenever she's on break from school. Loves to take her to concerts, having her run on stage before the show starts and the stadium is empty, making sure her noise cancelling headphones are snug on her head every time he runs off stage between sets, etc. Average rockstar dad things.

Doyoung - cuddle bug dad If he can’t sleep, he’ll steal Reyna from Ahri’s room and sleep with her in his room. He loves to watch her run around in her princess costumes omfg. He loves to make her laugh because he thinks her laugh is the cutest thing in the whole wide world-- She has a bright, wide, gummy laugh just like him. He’s just all around supportive. Buys stuffed animals for her, specifically bunnies. He does the chores around the house, he takes Reyna when Ahri needs a break, he helps Johnny with paperwork and any tasks for Reyna, etc. Basically just the back bone to everyone else’s dad traits.

Jaehyun - bestest dad in the whole world Loves to hold her and carry her around the house. Loves cuddling with her and watching movies with her. He takes her to work in the years before grade school starts, then he starts taking her on holidays and weekends when Yuta doesn't steal her away to Japan. He’ll have her run around practice rooms, sit in the board room chairs that are too big for her, watch as he records music in the music booths, etc. If he could take her everywhere, have her attached to his hip 25/8, he would. He loves doing everything with her.

Jungwoo - silly dad Sneaks her snacks, takes her to do fun things. Is very protective and will bat off all the little kids who try to flirt with her on the playground. Cries on her first day of school. Play date dad-- Drops her off at the other parents' houses, scopes out if it's safe or not, runs the interrogations (He will interrogate the kids, too, no one is safe from protective dad!Jungwoo). If it's a sleepover, he'll overpack her bags and sit in the car in the driveway for, like 10 min, worrying about her before he finally goes home.

Mark - late bloomer He’s figuring it out, he just needs more time… He’s a lil scared…. But when he’s missed her lots after tour or something, he’ll fight everyone else to hold her in his arms for hours to days on end. Haechan has a folder full of pictures and videos of Mark and Reyna sleeping or playing together. When Mark and Hyuck are on tour and he bring up missing her, Hyuck will pull out his phone.

Haechan - the most girl dad to ever girl dad Bro is obsessed with Reyna even before she’s born ok. Buys her everything she wants. Plays silly games with her. Will dress up as a princess for tea time. Makes silly faces with her as their silent love language. Spoils her to Hell and back because he doesn't want her to lift a single finger ever. If one of the boys tries to give her chores to do, Haechan will do them for her, even though he hates doing chores. Teaches her bad habits because it’s fun for them to do together even tho Ahri and Johnny beg him not to…

[goodluckclove]

Eulogy for Kafka

Hey, friends.

So at this point I've accepted that my thirteen year old tabby Kafka is likely dead. She was the king of our household, a noble individual who loved me, my wife, and no one else, and in tribute I'd like to talk about her. Join me under the read more to say goodbye to my best friend for so much of my life.

I was told you were on the verge of death when they found you. Half-starved in a field in Gilroy, California, you were nursed back to health and then adopted by my parents from the shelter as a replacement for the cat that fell before you. You were small, fully-matured yet looking still akin to an older kitten. I named you Kafka - both after the writer, and after a cat from a failed young adult novel I wrote a few years beforehand.

Kafka, your hobbies included knocking the books out of my bookshelves, scratching up my records, and at one point pulling cords from their sockets. You screamed constantly whenever I left my bedroom, to the point where I questioned whether I'd ever be able to move.

But I did move. I took you with me to Portland, Oregon, on a long car ride where you smushed your face up against the netting of your carrier. And then I brought you a few miles from that first apartment into a studio of our very own, where you ruled over the domain and once slept by my clawfoot tub as I cried in the bath. After that it was to the apartment of my now-wife, who you hesitated around the proximity of before falling fully in love.

We were hoping the house we bought together would be your final stop on this road trip. But you had other plans. After refusing to step outside your home for thirteen years, you ducked out when we weren't looking and were set loose in the suburban streets of Portland.

This hurt me at first. i wept imagining you cold and scared and alone, huddled under some bush and wishing things were different. Then something in me changed. Because you refused to go outside as a matter of principle, didn't you? I'd carry you in my arms and step out into the parking lot as a goof and you'd let out that familiar low-tone grumble.

You started peeking by the open doorway when I brought my bike in, and I'd laugh. Where do you think you're going? I'd say, almost tauntingly.

Now? You might've been thinking. No no, not now.

Wife told me last night they were giving you scratches and pets, and for the first time since I moved in, you started purring loudly. They said this a few time, suggesting they were moved and haunted by the moment.

Now, you might've decided then. Now it's okay.

I used to say you were once feral - since rehabilitated and reformed. But that was never true. You were always a feral cat, Kafka. You just found two people that you loved enough to protect and a home you felt fit to reign over. But in the moments when your biological clock told you things were ending, you did not die the king you were in life. No, you dove bac out into the wild and pitter-pattered across the damp grass and sidewalk. A beast. A warrior.

You might've ended up cold and wet, but I bet after a life of warmth and comfort that must've thrilled you. You understood the dirt, the dirt you almost died in, and maybe a part of you was certain that you would be best suited to end your time here in the arms of the earth that birthed you.

For thirteen years I was your parent. I cried into your fur. You licked your tongue across my cheek until the skin was raw. I held you up by the arm pits and made you do a little dance. You slept on my pillow and took up two-thirds of that pillow.

You saw me out of my abusive household. You saw me through terrible relationships and lonely night after lonely night. And, ultimately, you saw me to my wife.

You met my wife. You considered them. You sat on their chest and hissed when they tried to move you to get up. And gradually you understood that they were safe. The brought you toys and you actually played with them. We would go to bed at two in the morning and hear you shouting at your mouse friend Carl for upwards of twenty minutes.

If one of us came out you would look up at us so innocently. Proudly, almost. We'd congratulate you on a good hunt, because you are at your core a feral creature.

I trust you waited to leave until you knew we would be okay. You would always keep us company whenever we were upset - we'd call it Spaghetti Time, although I don't know why. And I do think we'll be okay.

For now it hurts. I wish I could've been there. I wanted you to choose ultimately, but I wanted you to choose to be with me. I'm selfish in that way, I guess.

I don't hold faith in ghosts, but I'm confident your presence will stick around our family. Based on how insistent you were on always sitting on my lap, grumbling anytime I moved too much, I don't believe you have much interest in crossing over as they say.

Bob and Nipsy will be housecats now. I bet you told them about sunbeams, and maybe the joys of hiding in cabinets. You did a great job teaching Bob on how to be a proper tabby cat. He lounged in between Riley and myself this morning, calm and sweet. Almost like he knew.

I'm going to circle the neighborhood soon to see if I can find any sign of you. If not, when we get a house the first thing we do is going to be to plant a tree in the yard in your honor. Something that flowers. I was thinking dogwood.

Thank you, Kafka. Thank you for loving me unconditionally for twelve years of my life. I will do everything I can to live in a way that respects and honors the effort you put into keeping me going.

I will love you so completely for the rest of my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[katy-133]

The thing that gets me about the Engineer Tunnel Lady is that, if it was 100% fake and greenscreening, it would be one of the most interesting analogue/ARG horror series I've ever heard of. And there's been some heavy competition with THHPII, Welcome Home, and the recent Angel Hare.

The premise of a woman who just decides to take up DIY engineering because she suddenly has an unexplained, fierce desire to tunnel, and then proceeds to dig a subterranean system of tunnels underneath her suburban house that Nancy Drew would be proud of. She decides to record and document her progress and post it online, explaining how we, the audience, are able to follow her slow decent into the darkness. It makes me think of early internet unfiction YouTube webseries like Lonelygirl15.

The "surreal happenings in suburbia" vibes. The inherent horror of tunnels and the dark (ie, that one episode of The Magnus Archives). The horror of watching someone who is not trained in handling engineering equipment is seen using a bunch of powerful tools on her own (similar to AlanTutorial). The fear of the unknown as she tries to figure out how to problem-solve around the water flooding in. The mystery of why she's even doing this. Watching the progress of the tunnel getting so big that she needs a mining cart and then an elevator. Finding the remains of what looks like castle building stones buried below. The random subplot of finding out one of the guest rooms in her house might be haunted. A bit unbelievable, but it's a horror webseries, so you roll with it.

But then we find out that this is actually real and this TikTok user has reportedly been digging tunnels underneath her house independently. This changes the entire context of the situation. Because now her fans who were invested with the story are left wondering just how dangerous and irresponsible the project is. Did her neighbours know about the project? What if she caused the power to go out in her block? What if she creates a sinkhole? Is this safe?

When it's unfiction, your willing suspension of disbelief lets you get to partake in the story without worrying about certain elements beyond plot holes and thematic strength. The author is pretending to tell you something true and you're pretending to believe it. That's the fun of unfiction. It's trying to be grounded in reality with a magical realism element. It's why we can like fictional characters we know we wouldn't like if they were real. Now with the tunnel project being confirmed as real, it's become a moral situation.

[dzthenerd490]

File: ALF

SCP#: ALF

Cond Name: Alf the Alien/ The Alien. Life. Form.

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ALF has been given unlimited access to the common areas of Site-AA, though reportedly his most favorite area to be in is the cafeteria. Foundation security is to always update observation staff at Site-AA where SCP-ALF is, even when he is clearly in camera view. SCP-ALF has been given a watch that alerts him when he is leaving the Level 1 Clearance common areas. Should SCP-ALF enter an area of Level 2 Clearance or higher he will be shocked by the watch until he backs away. This has proven the most effective deterrent as just telling him to not go does nothing since he'll probably forget.

In the event of a containment breach at Site-AA, SCP-ALF is to join Foundation staff in entering one of the nearest Cavafy Reality Concealment Safety Bunkers.

SCP-ALF is under the assumption that he is the last of his kind, he is to never be made aware the truth shows otherwise. All incoming transmissions form surviving Melmacian's is to be recorded and disrupted form reaching earth by the Telecommunications Monitoring Office's lunar satellite division.

Description: SCP-ALF is a member of Species of Interest: Melmacian's. Melmacian's are an endangered species that suffered from a nuclear disaster ending their home world. SCP-ALF was one of the only survivors of the destruction after crashlanding on earth by accident. SCP-ALF was in possession of a damaged ship and some advanced technology all of which had been confiscated by the Foundation. Though most of it was deemed unusable due to how it was all nuclear based and quite easy to malfunction and lead to nuclear meltdown. As such it was dismantled and recycled for parts.

SCP-ALF like the other Melmacian's is a small humanoid creature with black eyes, a snout like mouth, and oddly long hair on his head. He possesses an overweight body, stubbly feed with short legs, long arms with fat hands, and a completely fur covered body. SCP-ALF knows how to handle advanced technology, but his personality does not present him as very smart. SCP-ALF is very snarky and likes to crack jokes whenever he can. He also has a huge appetite being able to eat almost any kind of food presented in front of him within seconds. Though most peculiarly he claims that cats are quite similar to the cattle of his world and thus likes to eat them as well.

However, despite his fun-loving personality, SCP-ALF suffers from depression believing he is the last of his kind. To help with this SCP-ALF was not confined to a containment cell but allowed to roam freely within Site-AA. This and him interacting with Foundation staff and having lively and hilarious conversations has helped SCP-ALF in dealing with his depression and survivor's guilt. It is because of his social personality that makes most Foundation staff smile and his lack of desire to leave is why SCP-ALF is labeled as Object Class: Safe.

SCP-ALF was discovered in 1986 when he crash landed in the garage of suburban home after suddenly appearing in our solar system and being shot down by a ISSJ-4 “Crow” from Mobile Task Force Apollo-1 "Orion's Belt". The pilot claimed he showed up out of nowhere and fired at his ship thinking it was a hostile craft. SCP-ALF's location was quickly found, and the family was amnestied while he was brought into Foundation custody. After reviewing interviews and first testing logs Site Director James fell in love with his jokes and assigned him to Site-AA as a way to boost morale with staff.

It's actually thanks to SCP-ALF that Foundation staff now have access to Trofeam Molecular Conversion Consumable Stations within Cavafy Reality Concealment Safety Bunkers as he complained about it regularly. SCP-ALF is actually used regularly to show Foundation staff how common areas can be improved in relaxation and has helped other Foundation sites make things more comfortable for their staff during break time. SCP-ALF has been made aware of this and likes to joke about him being an essential asset to the Foundation. To this day no one has refuted his claims as most either don't dare ruin his joy or secretly agree with him.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[daggerzine]

Autocamper- “Blanche”/ “Budge” single (Safe Suburban Home Records)

I hadn’t heard of this UK band before until someone had mentioned them on Twitter recently (sorry, I refuse to call it X) and it sounded up my alley. Plus it’s on the Safe Suburban Home label and that is always a mark of quality as well.

Only “Blanche” has been released so far  (“Budge” on May 3rd) and this new single flat-out rules! It’s got that classic indie pop vibe with intoxicating male/female harmonies, jangly guitar, a xylophone, and a taut rhythm section that knows just when to hit.

Jack, Niamh, Arthur and Harry don’t know you and you don’t know them, but after listening to this new song you’ll want to be in their presence (and then you’ll spin the single 10 more times). Go!

www.safesuburbanhomerecords.bandcamp.com

www.autocamper.bandcamp.com

[dustedmagazine]

R.E. Seraphin — Fool’s Mate (Take A Turn/Safe Suburban Home)

R.E. Seraphin said of his new album, Fool’s Mate, that “on the surface, they are love songs but there's a suggestion of something more ominous.” To set aside the ominous for a moment, you can get a lot out of the surface alone. It’s an immediate, intricate record that satisfies with or without a deep listen. Take, for instance, the streaming “Lips Like Sugar” grandeur on “Virtue Of Being Wrong,” the warbling bass and sunny trumpets on “Argument Stand,” or the shaggy, shimmering guitar solo on “Fall.” The band displays a sure-handed coherence and magnetism developed and then recorded live – with the exception of piano overdubs. The result is a set of dynamic, buoyant tracks that snap together a wide enough rock and roll tent to encompass Tom Petty, The Clean and a dash of Mark Lanegan Band, among others. Taken as a whole, Fool’s Mate is also reminiscent of Wilco’s Summerteeth, another bright, powerful album with lurid desperation creeping in from the edges.

Seraphin’s voice holds the center, bending lines into hooks. It’s a quality he shares with great power pop annunciators like Michael Stipe and Matthew Sweet, though, as a vocalist, he more so evokes the melodic hush of The Clientele’s Alasdair MacLean, Lloyd Cole’s breathy deadpan or, at times, the muted viciousness of The Jesus & Mary Chain’s Jim Reid. Like Yo La Tengo’s Georgia Hubley, too, Seraphin wrings a great deal of energy and melancholic drama out of his stage whisper. In contrast to the mix of 2022’s more blown-out Swingshift EP, Seraphin’s voice is given a great deal of room on Fool’s Mate. For all the robust buzz of music around him, here Seraphin’s lightly-fuzzed words always stand out. And it’s in both what he says and how that we return to the ominous something underlying everything.

It’s put most succinctly on “Clock Without Hands” (not a Nancy Griffith cover): “The sun is big and bright but the clouds keep on rolling in” —  just one example of a preoccupation with a gathering storm. If that observation is a good working hypothesis for how the stories on Fool’s Mate are likely to unfold, then it’s the album’s more macabre lyrics that provide the most convincing evidence of how innocent tips into sinister. On the pleading “End Of The Start,” Seraphin twists and abrades familiar moments of pop song romance to grotesque and captivating effect. Rather than get lost in someone’s eyes, the narrator’s love has “a smile [they] really want to eat” and skin that isn’t just perfect, a la Cole, but “glistening” and, further, glistening with a “dew” they “wanna feel.” Consuming, somatic details like these, conveyed by Seraphin’s earnest, stricken delivery, leap up through the album’s gleaming surface to show the human weirdness wriggling underneath, and hint at trouble to come. The brief, sparkling “Bound,” an album highlight, works against type from another direction. Rather than strain against entrapment, the line “no matter what you do to me/I will not be bound” sounds, coming from Seraphin, arch, flirtatious even, a protest that is itself bound to submit, and happily, given the interplay between the song’s characters. Here, for once, the foreboding is stalked by the joyful.

The album closes with a cover of Sinéad O’Connor’s “Jump In The River.” It trades some of the ragged, gleeful openness of the original for a focus and a steady rhythm, driven by a melodic bassline, that foreground the lyrics and, in doing so, create a different kind of intensity. You get the same sense of abandon to a bad idea that O’Connor delivers but from, perhaps, a more calculating place. In Seraphin’s hands, it feels somehow more intimate. Less a fight you’re overhearing than a conversation, or relationship, you might want to get out of. Put another way, “on the surface, [it’s a love song] but there's a suggestion of something more ominous.” In discussing the conception of Fool’s Mate, Seraphin also noted that the “sense of corporeality [was] intended to unsettle the listener.” As a coda, “Jump In The River” completes that welcome intention and bolsters what came before — it’s not hard to imagine “like the times we did it so hard/there was blood on the wall” being a line of Seraphin’s own — and works just as well as an introduction as Fool’s Mate starts over, pulling you back in.

Alex Johnson

[stvrbcys]

( charlie gillespie, cis man, he/him, muse a ) i just saw hudson “mackey” mccallum rocking out in their hotel room , blasting modern love by david bowie out loud. aren’t they supposed to be at the studios since they’re the vocalist ? the tabloids have been saying that the twenty-five year old is + ingenious, but can also be - egotistical — overall they’re the conspiracist. but their fans say they remind them of untamed bed head, government conspiracy theories, the crackling sound of playing a dirty record, light washed levis jeans, poorly written poetry. 

                                              ○ ○ ○ playlist ○ ○ ○ pinterest ○ ○ ○

THE BASICS

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆   hudson king mccallum  𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔  mackey 𝒂𝒈𝒆  twenty-five 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓  &  𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏��𝒖𝒏𝒔  cis man, he/him 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍  𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏  pansexual   𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 musician, lead singer of afternoon daydream  𝒉𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔 reading marxist theory (poser...), knitting (this one is a secret), drinking ungodly amounts of sparkling water 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏(𝒔) aquarius sun, aries moon, scorpio rising 

BACKGROUND

𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆  ?  𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚   american 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆  𝒐𝒇  𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉​   loveland, ohio 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆  𝒐𝒇  𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉​  february 1, 1998 𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚  high school degree  𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔​ grant mccallum (father, age 49) , flora mccallum (mother, age 48), & luke elvis mccallum (brother, age 29) 

FAVORITES 

𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅 classic, greasy double cheeseburger (like in the menu tbh) 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌 natty lite... (barf)  𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓 green 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅/𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕 nat king cole, b/c namesake  𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 i’d rather go blind - etta james  𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆 stand by me 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 ...........communist manifesto ugh he’s sooooo annoying i’m sorry 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 fall  𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 a worn in brown ac/dc sweatshirt with cigarette burn holes in the sleeves 

MISERABLE AMERICA, ASSASSINATE MY CHARACTER

trigger warnings: alcoholism, general parental neglect

THIS specific gif is his vibe it is the reason i chose his fc in the first place

set the scene : braille by regina spektor plays softly in the background. she was lying on the floor and counting stretch marks / she hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god / so she named the baby elvis / to make up for the royalty he lacked flora & grant mccallum might have had something resembling love at some point in their life, but the two of them were never meant to last. only, at twenty years old, they brought their first child into the world (on accident). flora named him luke elvis mccallum, thinking that maybe, if she tossed in one of the greats to his name, he’d be great too. four years later, and whatever semblance of a marriage they had was falling apart. enter hudson king mccallum, the boy who was supposed to save their marriage. again, flora had  bestowed him with the honor of carrying the middle name king, after the great nat king cole. ( spoiler alert: hudson did NOT save their marriage )

growing up in a small town just outside of cincinnati, mackey had a somewhat normal, if not mundane childhood. sure, his family was a little quirky. his father was a drunk who never really wanted kids in the first place, and his mother was a hippie/dead head/stuck on some 80′s acid trip lady who didn’t really believe in parenting, and saw her kids as her friends. his older brother, luke, was a real jock kind of guy — played on the baseball team, disrespected women, a general bummer to be around. he had a god given talent of getting under mackey’s skin, and he was far stronger than him which meant fights never really resulted in mackey’s favor. so it was safe to say he avoided being home as often as possible, instead taking to the boring, suburban streets of loveland ohio in search of something to do. 

he’s been quoted before saying “the only thing my mother ever gave me was music.” very true! flora did not much else, but she did have an extensive record collection and taught him everything he knows — from nat king cole to smashing pumpkins, flora not only had the record but knew the history. and the only time mackey could stand to be around her for long periods of time was when she was telling him about music, teaching him about the greats ( of course, even those moments weren’t the best — he can still recall a time when he was nine and she was going on and on about led zeppelin, and passed him a joint as she explained the beauty of whole lotta love. again...he was nine )

in high school, mackey and his best friend decided to start a band. this was mostly due to suburban boredom. they were called believer (as in believer of aliens), and they made (pretty admittedly) shitty rock music. but it was throughout that time that mackey fell in love with making music, however poor their band sounded (it was literally just the two of them, a guitar and drums, so it was never really going to sound good). though mackey discovered that he actually had a way with words, and getting them down on paper. first time he ever actually realized this was when his english teacher pulled him aside after class. he was never really a good student — other than history and english, he was failing most his classes — so he was expecting a lecture. instead, she told him he was incredibly gifted. for someone whose father constantly reminded them what a piece of shit they were, it meant more to him than she’d ever know. ultimately, it ended up changing his life. 

fast forward : GRADUATION DAY ! hoorah ! mackey had no plan in sight. no college acceptance letter or trade school opportunities. instead, he bought a one way greyhound bus ticket to new york city. so long, ohio! and go fuck yaself! he’d picked NYC because his cousin, blue, lived there and, not knowing anyone in los angeles, that sounded like a better option. save for the fact that blue spent most his nights crashing on random couches and basements, which meant mackey would spent the next few months doing the same. that’s okay, he could handle it. in fact, he kind of liked it. anything beat loveland, ohio. 

FAME LET’S HIM LOOSE, HARD TO SWALLOW

trigger warnings: drug and alcohol use 

as much as mackey loves making music, he’d never actually expected it to make him money. he never actually expected to get a record deal, to become famous, to sell out shows and be on tv. it was a pretty tough pill to swallow, when he began to realize that his life may not be his own life anymore. 

he has never claimed to be dealing with the fame well, but he does it in the best way he knows how — turning to drugs & alcohol. hey! like father like son! he’s an absolute mess and the press picks up on it, and their pr team would step in but people seem to rave about him online. “he’s so real!!” “mackey having a mental break down on stage last night was so me” “manifesting becoming a mackey tour groupie.” All common threads you’ll find below tikok videos of him! he’s an absolute mess, a pretentious, self obsessed, unapologetic mess, but at least for right now, the internet is eating it up. until he gets cancelled, at least (he also has made a lot of commentary on stage about cancel culture. he’s like go ahead and cancel me!!!!! ok mackey...calm down)

he is probably the reason the band keeps having to go through media training. he just! cannot! be good! it’s hard for him to care too much about anything other than music because his entire life, he didn’t really care about anything other than music. this poses a problem when it comes to relationships and friendships as well, he can often times come off as apathetic even when he doesn’t mean to. 

i like to think of him as a combination of matty healy & dominic fike. says really outlandish things, drinks on stage every night, maybe has cried on stage before, kisses his fans because why not, talks about being dumped while on stage, super relatable tingz 

I THOUGHT THAT YOU WERE STRAIGHT, NOW I’M WONDERIN?

a believer in all sorts of conspiracy theories. big foot, loch ness monster, jim moorison is alive and well and living in cuba, you name it. he doesn’t trust the government, didn’t have a bank account until VERY recently and his credit score was like 300 (in his defense, his mom took out a credit card in his name as a kid and now his credit is shot, but it’s slowly climbing back up), and he  refuses to be a “cog in the corporate america machine.” as a teenager, he was a self declared communist — so this newfound fame of afternoon daydream has been something he has been struggling to grapple with. was he just becoming another cog in the machine? another money bag for a huge record label like columbia?

he loves wearing thrifted clothes that have weird sayings. some of his personal favs: a baseball cap that says “bigfoot is real and he tried to eat my ass”, a t shirt that says “women want me fish fear me”, and a hoodie that says in red gems: “i wanna talk about me.” 

he’s a self professed music snob. but that doesn’t mean he’s above listening to pop music — some pop music meets his standards (little mix yes, fifth harmony no). he has perfect pitch, meaning he can hear pretty much any sound and tell you what note it’s in (okay charlie puth. he’s slightly less annoying about it) but he DOES act like this fact makes him a better musician than most. 

[slumberlandrecords]

Autocamper are back! This Friday marks the release of their new cassingle, Summertime / Ken Hom , available through the transatlantic partnership of Slumberland Records and Safe Suburban Home Records.

With buckets of melancholic charm and a cardigan collection that would make even Stephen Pastel blush, Autocamper are the perfect pop antidote to Manchester's predictable post-punk machismo. Summertime / Ken Hom is their new single, effortlessly capturing the jangle pop spirit of the '80s—without the C86 revisionism. Driven by a relentlessly melodic organ and a spare, scratchy guitar jangle, both tracks exemplify Autocamper's fresh and exciting UK-meets-NZ pop sound.

This new single serves as a teaser for Autocamper's highly anticipated debut album, scheduled for release in 2025.

Summertime is the first joint release from Oakland’s Slumberland Records and York’s Safe Suburban Home Records. The track is available worldwide on November 15th, with tapes shipping worldwide immediately from the label's Bandcamp pages.

[bandcampsnoop]

2/21/24.

I was listening to the excellent new LP from False Tracks today and it made me think of this long lost LP from Oakland-based band Lenz. Lenz was active in the early 2010s - well before the Bay Area blew up as the musical mecca it is now considered.

As I was listening to Lenz and loving it's Television influenced sound, I realized that R.E. Seraphin was a member of the band. Seraphin popped up recently due to the fact that he is releasing a new LP via UK label Safe Suburban Home. Seraphin states that he is influenced by Green on Red - and I can see that somewhat hidden in the music of Lenz.

"Way To End A Day" was released by Oakland music store/label 1-2-3-4 Go Records. They had an excellent single on Sacramento label S-S Records.

[joshuacarter32]

The Best Real Estate Agent in Myrtle Beach: Joshua Carter

Finding your dream home in Myrtle Beach can be a daunting task, especially with the wide array of neighborhoods, styles, and price points available. Fortunately, Joshua Carter, one of the most experienced and trusted real estate agents in the area, is here to make your home-buying journey as smooth and enjoyable as possible. Whether you are a first-time homebuyer, a seasoned investor, or someone looking for the perfect vacation property, Joshua Carter real estate agent myrtle beach brings a wealth of knowledge and a personalized touch to every transaction. Let’s explore how Joshua can help you find the home that fits your lifestyle and budget in Myrtle Beach.

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Don’t just take our word for it – here’s what some of Joshua Carter realtor in Myrtle Beach clients have to say about their experience working with him:

Why Joshua Carter is the Right Choice for You

Whether you're buying your first home or looking to invest in Myrtle Beach real estate, Joshua Carter is the agent you can trust to get the job done right. His combination of local expertise, dedication to clients, and personalized service makes him the top choice for anyone looking to navigate the Myrtle Beach market with confidence.

[modibuildersam]

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Modi Builders' projects are known for their architectural finesse, advanced construction techniques, and high-quality materials. Here’s what you can expect from our 3 BHK flats in Laxmiguda:

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