#i risked my cd's lives

[emoclone]

being in your 20s and living with your parents is just constantly thinking, "if i had my own place, i'd—"

[carlsdarling]

Heated arguments

Carl and Y/N have an argument, then some make-up sex, and it gets really emotional... More of a plot, and also sex and fluff. Everyone is 18 or over. (This was requested, but the request somehow vanished from my inbox, don't know.)

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex

You were just fed up. Carl's overprotective attitude, the way he constantly tried to control you and forbid you to do things, and you glared at him angrily when he scolded you for going on a supply run with Maggie and Glenn for once and then leaving them to search a pharmacy and getting surrounded by walkers. You'd wanted to search the pharmacy for a few more personal items, including condoms.

"You could have died," Carl told you, his face pale with anger, his jaw tense. "You almost died!"

"No, I wouldn't have died," you contradicted defiantly and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Are you kidding me?" Carl's voice pitched. "Maggie told me that there were at least a dozen walkers in the pharmacy when she and Glenn came in, and that you were stuck on top of a cabinet! If Maggie and Glenn hadn't vanquished the walkers, they would have tipped the cabinet over and eaten you alive."

"No, they wouldn't have," you replied against your better judgment. "The walkers would have given up."

Carl stared at you, stunned, his eye narrowed. "Are you really that stupid, Y/N, or are you just faking it?" he insulted you, ruffling his hair. "You know, I may not want to admit that my girlfriend has a birdbrain, but obviously she does," he stated brutally. "No one with a shred of intelligence would put themselves in a predicament like that! And then you get upset that I'm supposedly controlling you? Yes, maybe I do, but the reason is that you're stupid and reckless and can't take care of yourself!" Angrily, he clenched his right fist and punched a locker.

You flinched at his words and his outburst of anger, and you began to seethe inside. "Oh yeah, but of course Carl Grimes The Almighty is perfect! Who puts themselves in danger all the time, on purpose? You do! How many times have I told you not to go into dark stores alone to loot unimportant stuff?"

Only recently you had scolded Carl for going into an abandoned department store just to get an old CD player for you. Beaming like a child, he had presented the item to you and had been as proud as all the times before when he had taken extra dangerous actions just to be able to give you presents - perfume, jewelry, make-up, books, anything he knew you would like. No matter how many times you told him to stop, he wouldn't listen to you.

"At least I can look after myself," Carl replied angrily. "You can't. I forbid you to go on any tours without me!"

You put your hands up indignantly. "You don't have any right to forbid whatsoever, Carl! Fuck you!" you shouted at him before turning around abruptly and running off in the direction of your house.

"Fine!" Carl called after you. "Then do what you want!" Enraged, he marched off in the opposite direction, his hands in his pockets. It was true that he regularly did dangerous things himself - but only to please you and impress you. No, actually that was only half the truth. Carl's missing eye made him feel inferior to the other new lads in Alexandria, and he lived in constant fear that you might leave him for one of them. Carl couldn't bear the thought of losing you, so he desperately tried to impress and spoil you to prove to you that he was the best option for you. Even if it meant risking his life.

You slammed the door behind you in anger and even started cleaning the house in your frustration. Who did Carl think he was?

Not even an hour passed before there was a knock at the door. Standing on the threshold - Carl. You looked at him in silence. "Can I come in?" he asked shyly. Wordlessly, you let him in. "I... can we get along again?" He looked at you pleadingly and his hands were shaking, he was obviously nervous.

"Carl, you called me a birdbrain, I..."

"I didn't mean it that way," he murmured, hugging you and burying his face against your shoulder. "Let me make it up to you?"

Your body responded to Carl as it always did, and you moaned softly as he began to kiss your neck. You were like wax in his hands; you always had been, and you didn't protest as he directed you to the couch in the living room, swept the cushions down and pressed you onto the padding. "Carl, this is inappropriate, we're still in an argument," you whispered, gently trying to push him away.

"I was thinking of some make-up sex," Carl whispered back, and you succumbed to the temptation - even if it didn't solve your problems. Carl unbuttoned your blouse, unhooked your bra and soon had your jeans and panties pulled down too, leaving you naked in front of him. You couldn't wait to see him naked too and tugged impatiently at his belt. Carl stood up to hastily remove his clothes, and before he was about to lie back down next to you, you grabbed his slim hips, grasping his proudly erected dick and giving the tip some kitten licks, then slowly slid his veiny shaft into your mouth and sucked on it.

Carl's knees got wobbly, he inhaled sharply and began to whimper, then he put his hand on your head, tousled your hair and controlled the movements of your mouth. "Oh yes, please," he whispered breathless with arousal. You cupped his balls with one hand and rubbed them while you continued to slowly suck Carl off. Some precum leaked out of his cock and you swallowed it before suddenly withdrawing from him, eliciting a sound of disappointment from Carl. His dick glistened with your saliva as he lay on top of you without further foreplay, gently forcing your legs apart and thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You were more than ready for him and moaned out, your hot, soaking wet walls clenching around his cock. Carl's heart was beating right next to yours as he fucked you with skilled movements. You buried your face in his neck curve, kissing and nibbling his pale skin, while Carl's long hair tickled your face and you inhaled his scent, which intoxicated you as always - the typical, unique Carl scent that made your hormones go crazy.

You lifted your hips. Carl's cock slid in and out with a steady rhythm, and he breathed heavily, again and again he let out those small, adorable moans that turned you on even more. You stroked Carl's back, completely overwhelmed by your feelings for him, it was just you and Carl and your lovemaking, and your whimpering grew louder.

"You cumming?" Carl looked at you, little drops of sweat standing between his eyebrows.

"Carl, oh yes, Carl," you moaned, half senseless with lust. Carl was delighted as always that he was the reason you felt so good, and he would make sure you cum before he did. He withdrew from you almost completely, then slowly penetrated you again, again and again, until you were on the verge of madness. "Oh my God, Carl, you're so good." The orgasm came over you so hard it felt like your head was going to explode , and Carl noticed a new gush of slippery hot moisture welcoming his cock. He quickened his pace, his moans became louder and louder, his thrusts harder and more irregular, then he tensed up, all his muscles tightened, and he had his release right inside your pussy.

Carl stayed on top of you for a while, both of you sticky with sweat and body fluids, and you pressed against him. You two didn't speak until Carl finally pulled his dick out and lay down right beside you. "Are we... good with each other again?" he asked shyly.

You frowned. "The fact remains that you called me stupid, Carl," you said icily.

Carl winced with guilt. "I didn't really mean it. I'm sorry," he whispered glumly, and when you didn't respond, he reached for his jeans, which were lying on the floor next to the sofa, and fished out a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a glittering jaguar. He attempted to hand you the necklace. "Here, I found this when I was scavenging, and I thought..." He seemed anxious.

Anger welled up in you, and you slapped Carl's hand away; the necklace whirled through the air and landed on the ground. "Tell me, don't you get it?" you snapped at him. "I don't want you to keep getting unimportant things for me! You put yourself in unnecessary danger every time! For bullshit like a fucking necklace! And don't tell me you found the necklace by accident!"

Carl blushed and lowered his gaze. "You're right, the jewelry store was full of walkers. It... it's just... well, it's just that..."

You looked at him inquiringly. "It's - what, Carl?" you asked in a softer tone.

Carl struggled with himself, then it all burst out of him. "It's just that there are these new guys in the community, and I can see them staring at you - and at me, with my ruined face. I... what else can I do but go the extra mile to make sure you stay with me? To make you like me? I don't want to lose you, Y/N." Carl's lower lip quivered slightly.

Carl's words touched you and made you sad. He was so insecure about your affection for him that he felt he had to shower you with gifts and attention - even if it meant putting his life on the line. It took you a while before you could answer. Carl didn't look at you, he stared at the ceiling, a single tear trickling from his left eye. It flowed down the side of his cheek and dripped onto the sofa cushion, leaving a dark stain.

"Carl," you said, shocked. "Do you really think I feel so little for you? That I'd leave you for another guy if you didn't make an extra effort to please me all the time? No matter if you risk your life in the process?" You couldn't believe it.

Carl was crying now, and it was the first time you'd ever seen him cry, and it distressed you even more. "I... before those boys came, I was the only one here your age, and... and I was scared that you were only with me, because I am the only option." He sounded bitter. "But now that Ron and Benjamin and Spencer and the other lads are here, well... you have a choice, and why on earth would you pick me?" He sounded completely despondent.

You were completely gobsmacked, and you hugged Carl tightly. "You fucking idiot, you," you said tenderly, brushing his dark hair out of his face and kissing him; his tears tasted salty. "I didn't get together with you because you were the only option, but because I fell in love with you, eye or no eye. And I would never exchange you for another guy. And I don't want you to put yourself at risk to impress me ever again, because I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Carl, I love you more than anything. I love you for who you are"

Carl looked at you, his eye puffy and red. "Really?" he whispered, smiling at you. It took a load off his mind. You felt him finally let go of his worries and his body relaxed.

You nodded. "Please don't ever do that again," you urged him, pointing to the necklace. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said quietly and stood up for a moment to pick up the necklace from the floor. "But I can still give it to you, can't I?" He grinned mischievously. "It's already here."

You rolled your eyes. "All right," you admitted defeat. Carl put the necklace on you and cuddled up to you again. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered happily, wrapping his arms around you.

--

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @tessasweet @xxcarlswifexx @taylormarieee

[pretzel-box]

woe, Reverse AU angst be upon ye (not necessarily a request, just a thought i had, but if anything strikes feel free to go ham :3 i also like to think about this with the og universe because i love feeling emotional pain 🧘🏾)

but instead of the reader having a classified file for themselves (& having it for sale), there are videotapes (or maybe different colored pendrives? CDs work too, i guess!!) scattered across the abandoned offices, and at first Sebastian isn't sure what to do with them, but then he meets p.ai.nter and they recognize those immediately, questioning why Sebastian is carrying that stuff with him in a concerned tone, and Sebastian just stares at the computer like, "??? okay, what's up with it?"

p.ai.nter is hesitant to show him what those hide at first, but eventually agrees to let him watch, then warns him that he is not going to like any second of it

Sebastian gets comfortable in front of the screen but is only greeted with an extremely heartbreaking scene– it's (now an experiment) reader visibly shaking as they stare in horror at their new body, unable to speak in any way while sobbing and whimpering, hugging themselves (or maybe their tail? guess it depends on the way readers want to look) and wondering what they had done to deserve this outcome, to be stripped of their humanity

now i personally like to think that the reader struggling to speak is something that comes with their body being altered, like everything is big so they're not used to any of it so really all they can do is cry and struggle to say a coherent sentence because it sounds like a garbled mess, but that is also me wanting to add salt to the wound because this is supposed to be sad ooooo ⚡⚡

anyway, at the end of it all (cause there was more than one video, a whole documentary on reader and the experiments done on them), Sebastian is left feeling too many emotions and he doesn't even know when he started crying but he is (since the reader he knows now is different from the one he just saw in the videos but deep down it hurts so much because that is the same person in different years of their life) and p.ai.nter isn't sure how to comfort him so they keep apologizing till Sebastian finally chooses to leave

next time he stops by reader's shop he can't even bring himself to stare at them properly because he's afraid he'll start bawling his eyes out, meanwhile, reader is just staring at him like ":3? no snarky comments or banter today wow what happened to him" unaware that he has seen The Horrors

that's all thanks for coming to my tedtalk

Authors Note: This is inspired by this request but not 1:1 written like it. This is pure angst and some gore. READ AT OWN RISK.

Tags: GORE, Angst, Reversed AU, mentions of syringes, drugs and operations.

Words: 2,7k

The sound of a click filled the room, followed by the small red light blinking on the video camera, indicating it was recording. Sebastian glanced at you with irritation as you held the camera—a little relic you'd scavenged from a deeper part of the facility—not too long ago. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of the leather jacket you had once sold him.

"And we are live!~ Say hello to the viewers, Seb!" you teased, shoving the camera playfully in his face. He immediately pushed it away with his hand, his scowl deepening.

"I get it, I get it," he grumbled, pointing at the camera with a mock glare. "You found a new toy. Now what? You planning to make a movie or something?"

You shot him a sharp look, the room growing colder as if you were subtly irritated by his comment. Sebastian could sense he'd hit a nerve, a rare feat considering your usual carefree attitude. But then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach and flashing him the signature grin that always greeted him when he came to your shop.

"I’ve already starred in plenty,” you replied cryptically, your words hanging in the air with an eerie undertone. Sebastian opened his mouth to ask what you meant, but you cut him off with another sly comment. “Maybe you’re the next big star, Solace.”

After leaving your shop, Sebastian wandered through the halls of the Hadal Blackside facility, the encounter with you replaying in his mind. He’d grown to enjoy your company—your banter, your teasing, the way you challenged him. But today, something about your behavior felt off. Beneath the jokes and sarcasm, there was something else—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And that unsettled him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

How could he be in a relationship with someone so different, so complex? You were like a puzzle with missing pieces, a riddle that refused to be solved. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him. His legs carried him on autopilot through the winding corridors, his mind consumed by thoughts of you.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the office segment of the building that he realized he’d been walking without really paying attention. His hand hovered over the keycard reader, and it struck him that he hadn’t even looked for the blue plastic card he needed to get through the next door. The desk was a mess of papers, ink, and tapes.

His eyes fell on an old, unlabeled tape, the kind they'd used for surveillance back in the day. Scrawled on it in red ink was a series of numbers: *Z-13.* The sight of it piqued his curiosity, a nagging feeling that it was significant. Without thinking, he slipped it into his pocket. He’d find a way to watch it later.

Sebastian rummaged through countless drawers, lockers, and cabinets, searching for the keycard, but instead, he kept finding more of those mysterious tapes. Each one seemed older than the last, covered in dust and marked with strange codes.

His practical side told him he should probably look through all of them, not just the one he had picked up. So, he gathered them into a makeshift box he'd found lying around and continued his search for the keycard, all the while wondering what secrets these tapes might hold—and what they had to do with you. He know the Name Z-13 was related to you.

If there was anything he knew for sure, it was that you were full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe, these tapes would help him understand you a little better.

By pure coincidence, Sebastian ran into P.AI.nter a while later as he continued through the seemingly endless corridors of the facility, taking casual steps despite the weight of the wonky box filled with random tapes he was carrying. The AI's sketched face flickered to life, its eyes narrowing with a curious gaze. "Quite the haul today, Sebastian," it remarked, its voice tinged with artificial cheerfulness. "Planning to deliver all of that to our trusty shopkeeper?"

Sebastian grunted in response, setting the box down on the floor with a thud. He raised his hands above his head, stretching to relieve the ache that had settled in his shoulders from lugging the heavy box around. "Can you play them?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. It was a simple question, and he knew the answer even as he asked it—of course P.AI.nter could play a few tapes.

But as soon as the question left his lips, the room fell into an uneasy silence. P.AI.nter’s usual cheerful demeanor seemed to shift, its sketched form glitching for a moment as if processing something more than just data. The AI stared at Sebastian and the tapes, an uncharacteristic hesitation creeping into its expression.

"It's just a tape, Sebastian," P.AI.nter finally replied, its voice flat, devoid of its usual light-heartedness. There was something in the way it spoke—something guarded, almost cautious—that only fueled Sebastian's curiosity further. The AI’s reluctance was like gasoline on a fire.

“A tape I want to watch,” Sebastian shot back, his patience wearing thin. He was tired of the evasiveness, the constant roadblocks whenever he sought answers. He moved with purpose, selecting one of the tapes and sliding it into the nearest recorder, right next to P.AI.nter’s screen.

“I have to warn you, Sebastian,” P.AI.nter said, its tone shifting to something closer to pleading. The air between them grew heavy, the tension thickening as the tape began to whirl in the machine. Sebastian paused, the gravity of the AI's words weighing on him.

"You won’t like any second of it," P.AI.nter added, its voice barely more than a whisper. There was a finality in its tone, a sense of foreboding that hung in the air like a storm about to break. The familiar face of his AI friend got replaced by some white noise and then a black screen.

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the screen flicker to life, unsure of what he was about to see but certain of one thing: whatever was on these tapes, it was something the facility—and P.AI.nter—wanted to keep hidden.

“Hellooo! I'm one of the new researchers here at the Hadal Blackside. I'm recording Tape Nr. XXXX in Containment Cell XXXX. Wish me luck!”

Sebastian watched as a cheerful person appeared on the screen, holding a camera up to their face. Excitement radiated from their eyes, and despite the poor quality of the footage, their energy was infectious. Some of the information on the screen glitched out, redacting key details as if the tape had deliberately scrambled those moments, keeping certain things obscured.

The person on the screen shifted their stance, and the camera followed their movement. “This is a video for my friend who was super excited to hear about my job. I totally stole the camera for this, so shhh, we can't get caught,” they whispered conspiratorially, a playful grin spreading across their face. There was something unsettling about their carefree demeanor, yet Sebastian couldn't help but feel a small flicker of amusement. The tape felt like a low-quality YouTube vlog, reminiscent of simpler times, with this familiar-looking worker goofing off for the amusement of a friend.

“They told me this is super secret stuff,” the voice continued, the lens panning around the containment cell. “But I just have to show you this.”

The video abruptly cut to another segment, the view shifting to reveal a massive anglerfish-like entity lurking behind an enormous glass wall. The waters it swam in were inky black, like thick oil, giving the creature an unsettling and eerie aura as it moved in the dark liquid.

“Isn't it cool?” the person behind the camera asked with an almost childlike wonder, pressing their flat hand against the glass. “They’re hiding this here! They do some voodoo fish shit in this facility. Even the human centipede would turn pale in envy.”

Sebastian froze as he watched the footage. The creature behind the glass was terrifying—a monstrous anglerfish, its grotesque form barely discernible in the murky waters. It was an unsettling sight, made even more disturbing by the fact that this reckless researcher was standing mere inches from one of the most dangerous entities imaginable, their tone light and casual as if they were commenting on the weather.

A chill ran down Sebastian’s spine as he continued to watch the video, his breath caught in his throat. The footage shifted again, but the image of the monstrous fish remained burned into his mind. His gut twisted with unease. What was this person thinking, standing so close to something so deadly? And why did they seem so familiar?

As the old tape continued to play, the weight of the discovery settled on Sebastian’s shoulders like a heavy boulder. Whatever secrets were buried in these tapes, he was certain they weren’t meant to be uncovered—especially not by him. Yet here he was, staring at a reality that seemed more and more like a nightmare. The things he saw so far in the blackside were not as terrifying as this giant monster that rested behind that glass wall.

The tape ended abruptly, and for a moment, there was only silence. Sebastian’s hands trembled as he reached down to turn the cassette over, the worn edges rough against his fingertips. He knew there were at least four more tapes waiting in the box at his feet, each one a potential gateway to another nightmare. His breath caught in his throat, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Still, his curiosity and a gnawing need for answers compelled him to continue.

With a shaky breath, he pressed the tape back into the player, flipping it to the other side. The screen flickered to life again, this time showing a cold, sterile operating room. Several figures in hazmat suits moved with practiced precision, their faces obscured by masks and goggles. The room was pristine, a stark contrast to the horror Sebastian knew was about to unfold.

“This is Experiment Nr. XXXX,” a calm, clinical voice narrated. “And our newest trial patient, Z-13, who volunteered for their transformation.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he recognized the person strapped to the operating chair—the same person from the earlier footage. They were bound tightly, their limbs secured as though they were a dangerous criminal. There was no mistaking the fear and confusion in their eyes, even through the drug-induced haze.

“Z-13 was administered XXXX, XXXX, and XXXX 20 minutes prior to the start of this procedure,” the voice continued with an unsettling detachment. “Their pupils are dilated, and the patient has entered a state of delirium, necessary for the next phase of the experiment.”

The camera zoomed in on the bound figure, their eyes bloodshot and unnaturally wide, darting around the room in a frantic, unfocused search for something familiar. Sebastian felt his stomach churn with a sickening realization—this was no volunteer. This was a person trapped, forced into an unimaginable horror. The idea of volunteering was just another lie, a thin veneer over a darker truth.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into his knees as he watched, his body tense with dread. He knew what was coming next, but the tape did not shy away from the gruesome details. The hours that followed were a blur of pain and suffering, each tape more harrowing than the last. Scenes of torn flesh and oily blood filled the screen, detached limbs falling to the sterile floor with sickening thuds. Each cut, each scream was more unbearable than the last. And those eyes—those haunted, slowly awakening eyes—followed Sebastian throughout each frame, pleading silently for mercy.

With each passing minute, it became painfully clear that the drugs were losing its effectiveness and the person that was tied to the chair gained the ability to feel every single thing that happened there. The delirium ended and the terror began.

The scream tore through the speakers with such intensity that Sebastian flinched. It wasn’t just a scream—it was a raw, visceral sound, a guttural cry filled with a mix of agony, fear, and desperation. It was a sound so primal that it clawed its way into his very bones, settling there with an uncomfortable weight. It was the worst thing he had heard in ages. Every nerve in his body screamed in empathy for the poor soul on the screen, the person whose existence had been reduced to nothing but a vessel for pain.

“Silence them,” a cold, emotionless voice commanded from off-screen.

Almost immediately, a set of cruel, metal clamps were forcefully shoved into the patient's mouth, prying it open with a brutality that made Sebastian wince. These were the kind of instruments used for people with severe jaw fractures, designed to immobilize and inflict pain to prevent further injury. But here, they were used as a tool of torture, a means to quiet the suffering that had become too loud for the facility’s sterile walls. The rough, unyielding metal dug into their flesh, tearing into the soft tissue of their mouth, blood trickling down their chin. The sight was gruesome, and Sebastian could feel his stomach twist with disgust.

The person’s screams were abruptly cut off, replaced by a wet, choking gurgle. They were left to suffer in silence, their jaw now clamped shut, the metal rods cruelly keeping it from moving even a fraction. Tears streamed down their face, their eyes wide with terror and pain, every muscle in their body taut with agony.

And just when Sebastian thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, the camera shifted. The surgeon, clad in a sterile suit that seemed to mock the very concept of humanity, moved over the patient's eyes. Those eyes—once filled with life, now wide with shock, pain, and a frantic, animalistic fear—darted around in sheer terror. They were crying frantically, tears mingling with the blood on their face.

“We will now begin our final part,” the disembodied voice continued with a chilling detachment. “Removal of the natural human eyes to replace them with XXXX using XXXX and XXXX. The expected results will lead to an ability to see underwater.”

Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a gloved hand reach for a long, thin needle, the metal glinting ominously under the harsh, fluorescent lights. The needle was positioned directly over the patient's eye, the sharp tip hovering just above the delicate orb. Their wide, terrified gaze seemed to plead with the unseen surgeons, with the camera, with anyone who might be watching—to stop, to help, to do something.

But there was no help. There was no mercy.

The screen flickered for a moment, and then, mercifully, the tape cut to black. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sound the low hum of the equipment around him. Sebastian sat frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing with the horrific images he had just witnessed. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, the tension radiating through his entire body.

He was left alone in the darkness, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. The horror of what he had seen, of what had been done to someone who had likely never asked for any of this, crashed over him.

Then P.AI.nters face greeted him on the screen.

“They first drugged them, then they put in a row of ocean animal dna into their body.”

He was pointing out the steps that the surgeons did in the tape.

“They cut off their fingers, waiting for them to grow back. They took of the part from the knees to the feet…and then they noticed that it wasn't enough.”

Sebastian raised his hands, to put them over his ears.

“They lost both their healthy legs. Next was their ears, they cut it off. And then…they silenced them by closing their jaw.”

He could still hear P.AI.nter.

“And then they lost their eyes. The transformation from the human self to…the thing they are now…took 7 weeks. They attached and deattached plenty of stuff on them.”

For a moment he felt the urge to shut P.AI.nter off for good.

“Our shopkeeper went through much, don't you think?”

A loud sound filled the room and then there was darkness.

[flippinpancakes64]

Hey can I request the cullens x pop star reader who wrote a love song about them. Like do you think they would like it or find it embarrassing.

Thanks for your time❤️

The Cullens with a Pop Star! Reader

This ask is so cute I love it! I’m such a sucker for love songs it’s not even funny.

Aaaaaand…. My asks are back open! Send me requests! Go crazy!

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edit: this is now day 3 of me writing this one… i have been so preoccupied reading Wolverine x Reader tics I completely forgot that I even had this in here. My sincerest apologies

Edward:

He’s a little hesitant to be with you publicly

It’s already sketchy enough for him to be in one place too long because people notice he doesn’t age

But being with you on tv or in magazines? Yeah no

So he doesn’t make public appearances with you

But he does support you unconditionally

He’s no stranger to writing a song for someone

So when he’s sitting at home, tuned in to a live show you’re having and you announce a new song that’s about a man that you love, he’s all ears

He LOVES it

Makes you sing it for him all the time

He wants it on vinyl, on cd, on a casette, on apple music, on spotify, and even on soundcloud

He wants this song etched behind his eyes so he can see it whenever he blinks

To him, it just proves that you love him without a shadow of a doubt

Alice:

She loves it

She doesn't really care about being seen on tv or anything

In fact, she loves being able to show off her outfits

It's her favorite thing to help you find stage outfits and outfits for red carpets or award events

She's backstage at one of your concerts, waiting for you to come back during a halfway break so she can touch up your makeup

When suddenly you announce that you have a new song that you wrote for your girlfriend

And obviously everyone in the audience knows who your girlfriend is

She could start crying

She loves the song so much

It could be one minute long or 6 minutes long and she would still want to listen to it on repeat

You better be prepared to sing all of the time because that's all she wants to hear now

When you do eventually go backstage you have to take a bit longer than a brief intermission because she kisses you so hard that all of your makeup comes off and your hair gets messed up

Jasper:

He's a bit camera shy

He doesn't really care about being seen with you because he's a vampire, it's moreso because he just doesn't want to be on camera

But he does his best to be supportive of you

He hates when you have to leave to go on tour or something

He likes to pose as a personal bodyguard so that he can still be close to you

He is a little embarrassed that you wrote a song about him

All of your fans already started speculating that you and your "bodyguard" were dating

But with this song it was definitely confirmed

He's not mad tho

He's just a lil bashful

He is happy though

It means that you're gonna get hit on a lot less since people know that you're in a relationship now

He loves the song though

When you sing it for him, he is never more at peace

He's still coming to terms with the fact that you love him so much you're willing to let the whole world know

Rosalie:

She's a little hesitant for the same reasons as Edward

As much as she hates being a vampire, she loves her family

Even if she doesn't let it show

She doesn't want to put them in jeopardy

And especially being in the age of the internet, it would be really easy for any of your fans to look her up and see that there's no record for her

It's just more risk than necessary

So she hangs back whenever you're out

She is super supportive of your career though, don't get me wrong

One night, you're on a late night talk show and it gets to the segment where you get to perform a song

You get out there and say that you made a new song for the love of your life, and she instantly perks up

It sounds heavenly

It's in the style of music that she adores, your voice sounds perfect, the song is filled with innuendos to things that only the two of you understand

To say she loves the song is an understatement

And no, she is not embarrassed at all by the song

She loves it too much

Emmett:

He's your biggest fan

He is at every concert, at every red carpet event, every awards ceremony, everything

All of your fans know his name

He might run a fan page on instagram who knows

He'll never tell

You're singing at an awards ceremony when you announce that you have a new song that you wrote for yours and Emmett's anniversary

The cameras capture his reaction too

His mouth is wide open the whole time

He starts crying

Afterwards he literally just holds you the whole night

He doesn't feel even one drop of embarrassment

In his eyes, this song just proves how much you love him and his reaction just proves how much he loves you

And yes you now have to sing this song for him for the rest of eternity

Esme:

She’s also hesitant to be seen with you publicly

She’s had to hide herself for so long, it’s just second nature

Not to mention that she doesn’t want to do anything that could put her family at risk

So she opts to support you from home

And support you she does

She loves your music

Even if it’s not what she would normally listen to, she loves it

You had a concert on her birthday, and you were super upset you couldn’t be there

Not that she celebrates her birthday anyway

But still

So you wrote her a song

And you played it

She didn’t even know about it until you texted her later

You had to walk her through how to pull up the video of it

But after she does she can’t stop listening to it

She loves it so much

Expect a cuddle tackle when you get home

Carlisle:

Also is not seen with you publicly

He’s okay with people knowing about him, but he has to put the safety and privacy of his family first

He loves how people are dying to know who your mysterious boyfriend is tho

He thinks it’s funny

And he’s super supportive of your career

You love music, he loves you, so he supports you no matter what

He has the receptionists play your music at the clinic

And he does his best to tune in to every performance you have

One night you come up to him and tell him you have a surprise

You play the recording of his song for him

He loves it

You’re not escaping the cuddle monster for the rest of the night

Sorry

And him being embarrassed is not even in his vocabulary

He loves the song, and he loves that you love him so much you wanted to write a song about it

Vampire! Bella:

Pop music’s not really her thing

But she loves you and she actually kinda likes your music so it’s not a problem for her

She doesn’t really want to be seen in public with you

Not necessarily because she’s scared of protecting her secret

But mostly just cause she’s awkward around cameras

The first time she hears the song, you dragged her out to your studio to listen to a new song you were working on

She didn’t know what she was in for

She gets a little embarrassed cause there are other people in the room

But other than that she doesn’t get embarrassed over the song

She loves it so much

She wants it burned onto a cd so she can listen to it all the time

[toomuchracket]

when i found you, much younger than you are now (flatmate/dad!matty x reader)

ten years of self-titled!! can u believe!! anyway, a little fluffy drabble about the day the album was released, and also about the day it turned ten, as voted for by you guys. enjoy!

2013

when you enter the kitchen, the linoleum floor cold even through your fluffy socks, matty is staring at the fridge. namely, at the thing pinned between two shitty manchester fridge magnets - a futile attempt by you to reduce your shared homesickness when you moved down south.

he's staring at the calendar, which under today's date reads "75 album release day!!!!" in your handwriting, adorned with as many lovehearts and stars and smiley faces as you could fit in the tiny box.

not that either of you were at any risk of forgetting the date, mind, but you thought it would be cute to commemorate it anyway. "you can keep it as a memento in the future," you had said, as you wrestled with the paper and the bumblebee magnet and the laws of physics while putting the calendar up. "when you're living in a malibu beach house in a decade, married to a supermodel, you can look at that calendar and think of the day your first album came out. and maybe also of me, back in london, or manchester, or maybe edinburgh... i don't know where exactly, but most likely on the other side of the world from you and your gorgeous wife. it'll be cute!"

(neither of you thought it was cute whatsoever, though.)

matty turns when he hears your half-shuffling footsteps, face twisting into a sleepy smile that splinters your heart. he opens his arms as you near him, pulling you into a washing powder-scented hug and resting his lips on your hair. "hi, darlin'."

"hi," you murmur into his sweatshirt. "happy album day."

"thanks," you feel matty's cheeks twitch into a smile against your head. "feels quite surreal, honestly. we have an album out. mad."

you caress the space between his shoulder blades. "i can imagine - it's insane for me to even think that my best friend in the world has an album out. m'so proud of you though, babe."

"couldn't have done it without you, sweetheart. oh, that reminds me..."

matty breaks the hug - and, in the process, your heart - to reach for one of the CDs piled haphazardly between the radio and the kettle. he hands you one with an all too familiar cover art, accompanying his "here" with a grin.

"matty, i said i would buy it!" you protest. "i want to be a part of getting you a number one."

"that's cute, babe, but nah," matty folds his arms and smirks. "there wouldn't be an album without you, because there wouldn't be EPs without you and your room at uni. so, the boys and i figured that you were the perfect person to get the first album CD actually made."

your eyes fill with tears at the ridiculously sweet, ridiculously too generous gesture. "wait, really?"

"i mean, it was my idea, of course," matty winks, which earns him a shove on the arm. "but yeah, that's the very first 1975 album disc. open it, darlin', look at the lyric booklet."

sniffling, you do as requested; your sniffles turn to full-blown sobs as you take in the "to our favourite girl. thanks for the love (and the pints) xx" dedication written on the first page, sobs which only increase in volume as you take in the lyrics, handwritten by matty rather than typed.

you gently place the CD and booklet back on the counter, and pull your sweetly-smiling best friend into a teary hug. "thank you, sweetheart. i feel very special."

"you are," matty replies, tenderly stroking the back of your head. "you're the most special, to me."

your heart jolts at that, and you squeeze matty even tighter, pull him even closer to you. but it's not close enough to satisfy you, it never is - nothing short of his skin cells grafting to yours and consuming them would stop your heart and brain and nervous system aching for him.

well, a kiss would probably do it, but that's far less likely to happen.

the painfully tender moment is interrupted by matty's back pocket buzzing, which provides a blissful relief from the thoughts about kissing your best friend that were beginning to awake from their dormancy. alas, the relief is short-lived - matty sighs in your ear, and murmurs "will you get that for me, sweetheart? don't wanna let go of you."

with a hopefully-unnoticeable gulp, you slide your hand down matty's back and into his pocket to pull out his phone. you squint at the caller ID. "s'george."

"should probably speak to him, i s'pose," matty says, planting a final (and devastating) kiss to your head before letting go of you and taking his phone. "are you gonna go and listen to the album while you get ready for the party later?"

you grin sheepishly. "already bought and listened to it on itunes."

"you're incorrigible. but i love you."

"ooh, big word! i love you too," you smile. "and tell george i love him too, and i can't wait to celebrate with you all later."

matty winks. "will do, darlin'."

you wink back and grab your CD, turning on your heel and wandering to your bedroom to begin the arduous process of getting ready for the album release dinner and subsequent party. it goes by quicker than usual, though, soundtracked by the boys, punctuated by congratulatory texts to and from ross and george and a half-hour congratulatory phone call with adam, and powered by the excitement of knowing you can be extra affectionate with matty today and it won't be weird.

it goes by so quickly, in fact, that you're almost completely finished your makeup when matty peers round your slightly-open door. "hey babe, would you mind- oh, wow, you look gorgeous!"

it's almost embarrassing how warm your cheeks get at that simple statement. you swivel to face your flatmate, smiling bashfully. "thanks, sweetheart. i was a bit worried the eye makeup was too much for dinner, but i've committed to it now, i s'pose."

"no, it's perfect," matty says softly, coming into the room and perching on the end of your bed. you're perfect, he wishes he could add - it's cliché, but god, is it true. "i love it."

your cheeks burn, and lift of their own accord. "i'm glad."

matty smiles back just as widely as you. there's a pleasant silence for a moment, reluctantly broken by you before matty forgets his train of thought. "did you want to ask me something, babe?"

"oh, shit, yeah," matty nods. "would you mind - if you have the time, that is - drying my hair for me? can never get it to sit right. but like it's cool if not, i can do it myself, i just like it more when it's you doing it and-"

"matty," you interject, before he talks himself unconscious. "of course i will. just let me do my lipstick first, yeah? then i'm all yours."

all his. christ, what he wouldn't give. "take your time, darlin'. thanks a lot."

"s'no problem," you say, turning back to your dressing table and rifling through a pile of lipsticks. matty smiles as you open a few in turn, furrowing your brow as you wordlessly narrow down your colour options; the smile is wiped clean off his face when you drop your jaw and swipe a dark pink over your lips, forming them into an O as you make sure the lipstick is applied perfectly. fuck. your mouth.

(the lyric from talk! is most definitely about you, but he'll never tell.)

after the most agonising minute of matty's life, you turn around to face him. "ok, i'm finished making myself pretty. your turn, babe."

"you're always pretty," matty says, kissing the top of your head as you stand up to let him sit in the chair; he finger guns towards his reflection as he does. "and so am i."

you roll your eyes. "maybe it's best if the album doesn't go to number one, actually. your head might explode, healy."

"best make sure my hair looks good then, babe."

"when has it not, when i've styled it? it's me you're talking to, not george."

"fair point."

with a wink to him through the mirror, you rake one hand through matty's hair and aim the hairdryer at it with the other. he closes his eyes, sinking back into the plush seat, enjoying the soothing combination of warm air and your gentle touch - your nails lightly scratch his scalp the way you know he loves, and he hums contentedly. fuck the dinner, fuck the party, fuck celebrating the album; matty would be happy just to stay like this forever with you.

you'd be happy with that too, to be honest.

matty slowly opens his eyes as you put down the hairdryer and finish shaping his hair with your hands. you crouch to get the back looking just so, then rest your chin on his shoulder and smile at him through the mirror. "beautiful boy."

tilting his head so it rests on yours, matty beams at you through the mirror. "thanks, sweetheart. we do look quite hot, don't we? we should memorialise it, i think."

"now? we're not even dressed for tonight yet," you say, as matty pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the camera.

"trust me, babe, this is just the first of many pictures i intend to take to document this very important day. and the first of many pictures i intend to take of you, looking all hot and glamorous."

"charmer. alright, take the pic."

"alright, darlin'."

*

2023

when you enter the kitchen, the déja vu of a moment from a decade ago practically smacks you in the face. never mind that it's a different house, with a different kitchen and a different floor (tiled, not lino, but still cold under socked feet).

just as he was exactly ten years ago to the day, albeit with different hair, matty is staring at something pinned between two shitty manchester magnets on the fridge (also different - a smeg you were embarrassingly excited about buying when you and matty moved here). rather than the calendar from before, though, it's the picture the two of you took while you were getting ready to celebrate the album release.

again, matty turns to smile at you as you near him - well, as best he can with a toddler clinging to his leg and a 7 month-old baby in his arms. you can see in his eyes that the déja vu is getting to him as well. that, and the way his smile widens as he says "hi, sweetheart".

"hi. happy ten years of your first album," you grin, moving closer to kiss him quickly. dylan lets go of her dad's leg and raises her arms towards you; when you pick her up and kiss her cheek, she giggles and hides her face in your neck. smiling, you do the same to elena, who beams mostly toothlessly at you in response. "and hello to you too, my babies! were you good for daddy while mummy was at work?"

soft curls tickling your neck tells you that dylan is nodding, an action matty copies enthusiastically. "they were perfect," he says, booping elena on her tiny nose and making her giggle - your favourite sound on the planet. "they take after their mum, of course."

you roll your eyes. "ever the charmer, healy."

"you know it, healy," matty grins, relishing the chance for acknowledgement of your shared last name, the same way he's done at any opportunity since you took it as your own four years ago. "we were just talking about mummy, weren't we, dyl? how in that photo she thought i was going to be married to somebody else by now, but daddy always knew he wouldn't marry anybody but her."

your heart glows with overwhelming love for matty and his words; it quickly begins to burn with embarrassment at your past utter cluelessness, though. "well, i genuinely didn't think you liked me in that way, the way i liked - like - you."

"silly mummy," dylan giggles, playing with the pendant on your necklace that bears her first initial, as well as those of her father and sister.

you tickle her little tummy, and the giggles increase tenfold. "silly mummy indeed!"

your toddler's giggles fade into little hums, and her tiny face turns placidly serious as she looks at the picture of her parents. "but pretty mummy."

"the prettiest," matty agrees, trying his best to extrapolate elena's tiny fist from one of his curls.

"well, maybe in a few hours, once i'm ready for the party," you say, stepping forward to save your husband's hair from his mini-me's grip. it takes you both a minute, considering you're both operating with only one daughter-less limb, but matty's curls escape mostly unscathed from your baby's possessive grasp. elena might be a matty clone, but she really is your daughter, no doubt about it. "which i really should start working on, considering everyone will be here in... three hours. will you all sit with me while i do my makeup?"

"of course we will," matty nods, holding out his free hand for you to take with your own. "lead the way, wifey."

for the second time that day, although you're sure there will be many more instances of it, there's an overwhelming familiarity to the scene in your bedroom. with the exception of dylan sitting on the vanity, copying you and pretending to put her own makeup on with one of your clean blush brushes, and elena doing tummy time on your bed and babbling away happily, the process is much the same as it was exactly a decade ago - enjoyable, quick, interspersed with excitement and texts and calls from your equally-excited friends.

the soundtrack is also different, although it's still matty singing; instead of the songs about, well, drugs and blowjobs that had scored your pampering in the past, he's doing a medley of disney songs, nursery rhymes, and... "babe, is that britney spears?"

mirroring his youngest daughter and lying on his stomach on the bed, matty glances up, eyes gleeful. "yeah! lena loves it. look - oops, i did it again, i played with your heart, got lost in the game, ooh baby baby."

true enough, elena shrieks with laughter and taps her hands against the duvet in accompaniment to her dad's singing. you laugh too, picking dylan up and moving to sit beside the other half of your family. once you're settled, you scoop elena into your arms and sit her against your knees. "you have such good taste, my girl!"

"mmm, so do i," your husband hums, looking at you with barely-concealed attraction in his dark eyes. "you look gorgeous, darling."

over ten years of matty compliments, and they still shoot straight to your knees and turn them wobbly. you lift your burning cheeks in response. "thanks, sweetheart. you're not too bad yourself."

"you think so? because i was going to ask you about fixing my hair again-"

"i honestly don't think it needs it, babe."

"really? well, in that case," matty reaches back to grab his phone from his back pocket, before rolling to a sitting position and tugging dylan into him. "scootch in, then."

dylan watches her dad open the camera app. "photo now?"

"yes, munchkin."

"but my dress!"

"oh, you're your mother's daughter right enough," matty smiles. "we'll take one picture first, dyl, and then you can go and put your dress on in time for your aunties and uncles and cousins arriving, yeah?"

"ok."

"that's the spirit," matty ruffles his toddler's head, before putting his arm around you. "say cheese!"

after his girls oblige, dylan moves round to talk to her baby sister, while matty opens the picture to see how it turned out; you lean in and rest your chin on his shoulder again so that you can look too. "oh, matty, look how cute we all are!"

"definitely fridge-worthy," matty laughs, kissing your temple. he leans back slightly to look at you, bringing a hand up to lightly caress your hair. "i can't believe it's been ten years. for both the album and the two of us. although they always went hand in hand for me, to be honest. constantly thought about you while i wrote it. and i still constantly think about you now."

you press a quick kiss to matty's lips, wiping away your lipstick stain with your thumb - matty tries to kiss it as you do, which earns him a laugh and a "matthew" from you. "i love you, baby."

"i love you too, sweetheart. here's to the next ten years."

[earlycuntsets]

"Musician Interview with: Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance"

Recently, I chatted with Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance and below is what he had to say: FLES: What are your favorite songs from "Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge?"

Gerard: The most special song to me is 'Helena,' which is about my grandma.  I think my Favorite song to play live and my favorite on the record is 'You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison.' I think it's very important for us as a band to write songs like prison because it's kind of constantly breaking boundaries of what could be done by a modern rock band and still work. I think it's important to do those things and take risks. I think it's the most important song on the record for that reason.

FLES: When you went into the studio to record the album how many songs did you have and how did you decide which ones would make it onto the album?

Gerard: We actually went into pre production with not that many, I think we had about half a record, then we got really inspired and ended up writing a whole bunch of songs, tweaking sections of songs we previously had and fragments [of songs] became songs. We had become so inspired we got finished with reproduction a week early. I'd say there really isn't anything left over, but like two songs. One of which was kind of a joke and the other one was an acoustic thing we wanted actually wanted to have the whole band but by then we didn't have time to redo it.

FLES: How long did it take to record the album?

Gerard: I think only two months.  I think we would have gotten it done a little faster than that but [producer] Howard [Benson] wanted to kind of paced the record because we started moving so quickly, because it was so spontaneous. He said, sometimes if you make a record too fast it gets away from you then when your done with it you realize there's lots of stuff wrong with it. So there were lot of moments were [we] had to stop for a few days here and there.

FLES: How do you decide which songs are releases as singles?

Gerard: We don't.  I think it's the smartest thing a band can do is not to decide what your singles are because then you don't write songs to be singles. We let the label decide. That way you can literally honestly say to yourself we don't write singles, we write records, and you can really retain your artistic Integrity that way. So we gave them [Warner Brothers] the record literally sight unseen and said "here pick the singles, if you find any at all." They found four, at one point there were six songs they were very excited about, then decided on four of them.

FLES: What was your reaction the first time you heard one of your songs on the radio?

Gerard: It was off our first record, [I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Love], and I heard 'Vampires Will Never Hurt You,' on a college radio station and it was probably the biggest thing to me in the world. To this day, even hearing "Revenge" songs on commercial radio isn't as big a deal as that first time hearing it on just a college radio station. I think it had like a hundred mile radius.  

FLES: Does the band have any plans to release a live CD/DVD?

Gerard: We have been filming footage since the last warped tour and we still have a camera out. I don't know, we're talking about it.  We feel usually people will put out DVD's in order to sell as many DVD's as they did records. That to us is kind of a cheap and sleazy thing to do, 'cuz their hot at the moment so lets rush a DVD together and get it out. If we put one out it's going to be because we have so much footage that really tells the complete story of the band as far as we when we had signed to a major [label] the process of recording a record, making the record, and then busting our ass touring on it for the whole time. I think, if we get enough footage to warrant a DVD, we'll have one.  Live CD is something we never actually talked about. We're kind of one of those bands you need to see live in order to get it. We don't know if a live CD would work for us but it might, I don't know.

FLES: Well, we've seen MCR about 5 times in concert and I think a live CD would be a great. I think you guys are really good live.

Gerard: Thank you very much. I think it would be cool. Maybe in between not this record or the next but after the next record it might be a good idea to put out a live CD.

FLES: How much preparation went into planning and performing "Under Pressure" with The Used?

Gerard: I'd say a fair amount, not a lot. As far as preparation it was really just go ahead and do it. Two bands in two separate countries we had a very small window of opportunity in which to do it. Two of my guys flew out a day early to LA before we started some tour and I was out there and did my vocals. The Used based off of our template of the song put their parts over it and then it was together. We didn't play it live together until a week into the Taste of Chaos tour. It was pretty much let's go head and go this. We tried it for two sound checks then we played it live.

FLES: Is iTunes the only place to purchase the song?

Gerard: Yes.

FLES: Will My Chemical Romance and The Used collaborate on more songs in the future?

Gerard: It's hard to say. We're such good friends and we've known each other for a long time, I'm sure that's a possibility. We love collaborating it's a very cool thing to do; especially if it's for the right reasons. The thing about Under Pressure, it was for a good cause.

FLES: Do you have any Idea how much money the song raised for the Tsunami Relief?

Gerard: I Believe when it came out $25,000 dollars was initially raised and I think it's still up in the top three (at the time of this Interview) at iTunes and still raising a lot of money.  

FLES: Has the popularity of My Chemical Romance taken you by surprise?

Gerard: It really has. We really believed in ourselves. We believed in the music, we believed in the record, I think a lot more than a lot of other people did.  We kind of always knew it was going to be something very big, in terms of speaking to people but we were very surprised by the same element were not use to we're use to being normal guys. That's the whole idea behind the band that were very private normal people that when we get onstage we become like these extraordinary characters almost like superhero's that's kind of how it works. It started carrying to offstage and we became really the same offstage and that was really strange for us and it's harder to deal with especially if your bunch of guys that are just like geeky comic book nerds that have no privacy.

FLES: Where Do You See My Chemical Romance say five years from now?

Gerard: In five years, I would see us getting ready to put out a new record after the next one. We'll probably put out another record after this then tour extensively on it. Then I'd like to see the band take a break for a little while to reevaluate themselves as individuals and as a band and to kind of evolve again as a band, I think that's really needs to happen and I think some of that stuff only happens from breaks. I see us probably as almost a completely different sounding band with the same ethics. Maybe on a different level I'm not really sure. I know we'll still be doing this though.

FLES: Any idea when the next album will come out?

Gerard: We want it to come out two years to the [release] day of Revenge. We probably would have called the record sooner but Revenge ended up doing so well that we're going to continue to tour on it.

FLES: What was it like for you to tour with Green Day?

Gerard: We've been on it for about a week now and we're probably on the seventh show. I'm going to say for the record they are the nicest guys we've ever met. We've never seen a band reach out to us so much in so many ways, in a live set, on a person level. They really make us feel like fellow musicians. We've toured with bands that were only slightly bigger than us or at our level that acted more like rock stars. They don't even act like rock stars, they're just a punk band and they put on the greatest, greatest fucking show in the world. I definitely think they're the greatest rock band right now. 

FLES: What are your thoughts on being nominated for "Golden gods" award?

Gerard: You know I just found out about that. I'm not very familiar with the golden gods award but I am very familiar with Metal Hammer who does those. Metal Hammer is a really supportive magazine and its really great. I wasn't aware of the award but it feels awesome to be nominated for anything. We kind of stay away from press though, positive or negative, we kind of live in a bubble. It's good to not want nominations and it's good to not strive for nominations, If you get them it's kind of like frosting, it's a bonus. We were use to for so long being the band who was kind of underrated and we were use to not being nominated for stuff and use to being under the radar for so long even though, we felt we deserved a little more recognition. In a reader's poll two months ago we were the most underrated band now were the most overrated band. It's funny to go from underrated to overrated so quickly. You get so exposed it becomes less cool to be into your  band.

FLES:  I have a feeling My Chemical Romance will be nominated for quite a bit of awards in the future.

Gerard: Thank you. We have a good feeling about that stuff too.

FLES: Gerard, Thank you for your time.

Gerard: No problem. Thank you very much.

My Chemical Romance is from Newark, NJ and tour on a regular basis. Their music in on Warner Brothers Records and is available at the usual outlets. Online users may purchase their music at Amazon.com. For more band information visit the official My Chemical Romance website . To sample music by My Chemical Romance visit their page at myspace.com.

Interview by Michael Montes - Copyright © 2005 Florida Entertainment Scene - All Rights Reserved."

photo is from the sun dome tampa florida 04/18/2005

[charcharbinks333]

i’m dead, wanna hook up?

(part two)

warnings: mention of death, use of Y/N, fem!reader, ahs season 1 spoilers, not proofread.

Y/N sat up in her room for the rest of the day, unable to tear her mind from tate. their interaction replayed in her mind like a broken record. for one of her dad’s patients, he was surprisingly chill. usually they’re at least a little crazy. not only did Y/N feel uneasy about gaining a crush on a boy this quickly—she also felt justified. any girl who met him would fall into his quickly. he was abnormally alluring, something about him left her wanting more.

she put a new cd into the player, one she had burned herself. a song by the smiths began playing, and she drifted peacefully into an afternoon nap, blissfully ignoring the thoughts stirring in the back of her mind.

meanwhile, tate was stirring about the basement. he couldn’t get her out of his head—why was this the first time he had seen her? she had been living here for only a week and a half, sure, but he always became acquainted with the residents decently quickly. he couldn’t gauge much about her from their short interaction—he knew she was shy, a homebody, and ineffably gorgeous. nora had made herself acquainted with Y/N—using the ‘sweet old resident of the home’ approach—and was trying to advise tate on what to do.

“she likes poetry, and listens to a lot of music from your time. she is a beautiful girl, tate, you should just talk to her-” tate flinched as nora put her hand on his shoulder, brushing her off. he ran a hand through his messy blond locks, trying to make sense of his feelings. he had just met her, but she already gave him this… tight feeling in his chest. it felt like someone had reached into his ribcage and planted her directly into his heart, like she was the reason it was beating. but he had just met her, he couldn’t be this obsessed already. it would scare her off.

“talk to her? and say what, nora? ‘hey, my name’s tate, i’m dead, wanna hook up’?” he sat cross-legged atop a random crate, his ankles tucked beneath his knees. “maybe i just need to… get to know her better. look around her room, see what in particular makes her so…” he trailed off, trying to find a word to describe her. she was incomparable, she was simply Y/N.

“i wouldn’t advise snooping. sure, this girl is the bees knees and all those things you kids would say, but you don’t want to risk getting caught.” nora fiddled with her hands as she spoke, her dress swaying as she approached tate. she held his hands in hers, looking down at the boy she had adored as her own son for so long. “just be a good fella, and if she doesn’t like you for you, it’s her loss.”

this is the talk that led tate to overthinking, yet again. be himself… who was that? what parts of his personality should he accentuate, he clearly wouldn’t be able to tell unless he knew Y/N… which is exactly why he was standing in front of your barely-open door, deciding whether or not he’d go in.

short once again, but it felt necessary to end right there!

taglist (comment to be added!): @hoe4kai

part three coming very soon.

[unending-everchanging-thoughts]

I hope this finds someone who will enjoy it. This is the first time I’m sharing my work. It’s a personal essay about a friends suicide attempt so go in eyes open. But please enjoy!! (1,164 words)

September, 1st 2022. 12:00 Pm

The wind blows lazily through the leaves. The side door of my highschool opens, I turn and there walking out the outside stairs is a ghost. Short, scrawny, and almost blending in with the backdrop. There is no real indication that he is dead—no floating feet, no translucent skin, not even a cold draft. Even without all the tell tale signs, I’m sure that this is nothing more than an elaborate illusion. But the image didn’t change, his form didn’t flicker. Everything seemingly stopped, stuttering like a scratched CD. Caught in a moment of madness, I found myself (possessed by sheer shock) running toward him in elation. I threw my arms around him, holding him closely, hoping he wouldn’t in fact slip through the cracks in the concrete. My arms made contact! The ghost was real and he was here! I must have manifested his life back into reality.

Truthfully, there was no magic needed to teether his soul back to the soil. He had never been dead. But to me he must have crawled from the ground to come here. I clutched his corpse, crouched at the side of his casket, cried over his freshly covered grave all within the tangled confines of my frantic imagination. My mind witnessed all of this, but on the outside his departure was nothing more than an ambulance ride to a nearby hospital.

At the time, turning him over to the proper authorities seemed a logical solution to him popping so many pills that his pupils disappeared. If only I had known that the moment he slid into the back of the red shiny van I would become captivated by nightmares of corpses, haunted by his ghost. No deity warned me of the inevitable months of missing him that would be brought on by my juvenile attempts at making him more than a martyr. No release form to inform me that emotional trauma would be brought on by my choices. I had no idea that I would spend years gripped by the grief. What are you supposed to do when your friend attempts suicide? When your world stops turning? When phones go silent? When voices are quieter than the screaming in your mind? Do you let your friend die alone on the bathroom floor? Crush their dreams into white powder and pour it down the drain? Do you follow the proper procedure and call the police? How do you handle the choice between saving a life or letting them die with dignity? Allowing a friend to pass on or risking the rage when they awaken?

6Am September, 1st 2022.

The sheets of my bed have become rotten after weeks of decomposing within them. Bread crumbs have built up like sand castles and water cups create wells filling my shelves. Tears have become my cheeks’ constant companions. Bags have taken up residence under my eyes. Clothes have become crumpled at the bottom of mountains. My mirror which usually lays compliments onto my skin has begun to strip off layers of my self esteem.

Mornings are no longer markers of new adventure. My school uniform sits on me like a straight jacket, my book bag leaves a rope burn on my shoulders, toast is stopped by clots of despair that fill up my throat. School which once seemed like a sanctuary now suffocates me. The English teacher asks for assignments now weeks overdue, my math teacher mumble about my general disinterest, and people seem to leer at me from the hallways of their happy lives.

I had seen the effects of untimely deaths. Posts on instagram have fluided my for you page proclaiming remorse for a life half lived. I had heard my mothers cries when her friend decided to die. Seen flowers fluiding over the side of bridges. I had heard how hard it is people when someone they love attempts suicide. However, I never felt the full, undiluted magnitude of that sentiment until I found myself perched on the edge of a desk, staring at a suicide hotline number written by a teacher, wondering if maybe 988 on a white board would have saved him. I now walk through life like a phantom drifting between memory and moment. Wandering the rooms of my school like a spirit frantically searching for something, someone, anything.

I wish to wallow in the space where I still had him, where he wasn’t gone. I see him in lockers and staircases. I constantly picture his face in the math room, where I had taken his portrait. I glimpse him in conversations, knowing what he would say or in the way that he would raise his hand. I spot him in the chemistry classroom glaring at me after a long forgotten argument, in the walls he once leaned against, in the place he first broke my heart. My highschool, my mind, my life are all haunted by the spirit of someone who didn’t die. An experience of grief without the marker of a tombstone introduced me to this limbo state, a space between grief and gratitude. All I have as a reminder are a few fragile memories. There was no indication that this day would be more than a continuation of my misery. But today, the memory decided to materialize right in front of me. He came back. but not to me.

Almost a month and a half after my best friend had been carried off the face of the earth in a whirl of red and white lights, I saw him. On the grass I hunched, shrinking myself to fit into the cohort I was seemingly a part of. Their conversations rang dull in my ears as my mind was on something more meaningful. Even once I caught sight of him descending the stairs, the sun forming a glorious halo over his head, I was unable to pull myself out of the grief that had grown within his absence. When I wrapped my arms around him, the embrace felt empty. The apparition was real but I was unable to make contact. He was there but I was not. Even as I pulled out my phone to capture the moment I was unable to place myself back in his presence. I reached for his hand, holding it gingerly, hoping that gesture would weigh me down. He smiled at me but depression trapped in a locket wrapped with a noose around my neck stopped me from smiling back. The once pupiless eyes looked at me sadly, seeing the pain that I didn’t deserve to designate with words. Upon my silence the ghost turned to the girl seated next to me. She dropped her eyes to him seeing the face of a beautiful boy, but not one brought back from the dead. To her, his homecoming was a plot point and not a whole novel. She made connections with the living while I was stuck sitting with the dead.

[catbountry]

Does anybody else remember Pandora? Not the box, or the fictional planet where James Cameron's blue alien cat people live where there's a literal mineral called "unobtanium" that can only be harvested from that particular planet. My man literally called that shit "unobtanium," fucking portmanteau of "unobtainable" and the "-ium" suffix for newer elements. No. That has absolutely nothing to do with anything else I'm writing beyond this point. This is a post about music.

This is a post about the customizable internet radio station Pandora. And also it's going to briefly cover ClickRadio, it's going to talk about my experiences with YouTube Music, Spotify, my own iPod and how I find and listen to music, and how it's a core part of my creative process and I put a bunch of music references in pretty much all of my creative work. None of it being musical, by the way. I can barely carry a tune and I can't play any instruments more complicated than a kazoo.

It also got really long and rambly, look, I'm high, I'm sorry. You've been warned.

It's 2001. I'm in high school. My life looks like this drawing I made a few weeks ago.

Music is a big part of my life. The internet was a lot slower. It would take several minutes to download an .mp3 file of a song that was only about three and a half minutes long, so I would listen to the radio a lot. But the thing about listening tuning into radio is that it's not the internet. You can't pick which song to listen to whenever you want. If you want that, your best bet is to own the songs you want on their physical CD releases, or risk exposing your mom's computer to a million viruses. But in order to skip a song, you have to press a physical button to skip a song. And of course, if you're listening to the radio where you can discover new songs, you can't skip the latest Limp Bizkit or Disturbed track with the vain hope that maybe they'll play "One-Armed Scissor" by At The Drive-In or "Go With the Flow" by Queens of the Stone Age, or any single off of Kid A. Everything you hated the most, hated more than Britney Spears or the Backstreet Boys, was all lumped together under the formless "alternative rock" label, which weirdly included hip-hop artists like Eminem, House of Pain, Beastie Boys, Cypress Hill, Gorillaz and Outkast; all stuff that I guess radio stations looked at and thought "yeah, this can appeal to white people."

You know I heard Dynamite Hack's version of "Boyz N The Hood" before I ever heard Eazy-E's? That should be a crime. That should be considered a human right's violation. Fuck you, Dynamite Hack for introducing the entire world to the concept of ironic hipster covers hip-hop songs which led to the fucking white people with ukeleles versions of Tupac songs. I am so glad that we, as a society, have all come together against these dynamite hacks and decided this was cringe and something that belongs in the past.

But this isn't an essay on awful YouTube music trends of the early 2010's, this is listening to music in the internet age in the early 2000's.

In 2001, ClickRadio launched. It was a desktop application that allowed you to listen to radio stations via the internet, but it had something real radio stations did not; if a song like, say, Dynamite Hack's cover of "Boys N The Hood" came on, you could click a thumbs down button and it would let out this cartoonishly loud "thud" and then that station would never play that song for you again. And if they played a song you really liked? You could click a thumb's up button and it would play that song more often.

I cannot understate how fucking mindblowing an idea this was in the early 2000's. Yes, ClickRadio would slow down your computer as the Neopets Flash games you would play gringing for Neopoints to get a Halloween brush for your Lupe that you named after a member of your favorite band. Anybody else do that?

No? Just me? Okay then.

ClickRadio would quickly get enshittificated, within only about a year or two being filled with more and more unskippable ads. I went back to just loading up MP3s in Winamp and playing music that way by the time I was in college, but it was a pain having to listen to whatever song I had physically on my hard drive, or a few years later, going to YouTube to see if somebody uploaded a crusty version of a NoMeansNo song with a Spanish-speaking DJ speaking in the opening bits of the video. Not ideal.

But then Pandora showed up.

I don't remember where I first heard about Pandora, but after Napster, there were a bunch of music start-ups hoping to be legitimate in the eyes of artists and record labels. Clickradio was just a radio station. But Pandora... was an experiment of The Algorithm.

You see, Pandora started what is known as the Music Genome Project, a way of organizing music into hundreds of different subgenres across five large umbrella genres; Pop/Rock, Hip Hop/Electronica, Jazz, World Music and Classical. What Pandora did was use this as a way to allow users to craft their own custom radio stations. And not only would it play the stuff you liked, but it would be tailored to a seed artist or song; you put in Nirvana, you get a lot of 90's alt rock radio faire, but then maybe it plays Mudhoney. Maybe it plays Sonic Youth. Maybe it plays Melvins, and you like it. And when you give a thumbs up, you hear more and more artists in similar subgenres. And let's say you've been looking into obscure or underground music for years before you start using Pandora, and suddenly you're introduced to artists you never would have come across more organically. And buddy, you'd bet my Pandora station was a fucking hodgepodge of hundreds of seeds, which allowed me to discover highly influential /mu/ core bands like Swans, Animal Collective and Neutral Milk Hotel, but also bands that are so obscure that their Spotify listens are in the lower four digits at maximum and maybe a couple tens of thousands of views on YouTube. So many songs I found through Pandora are from bands that I very rarely hear a lot of people talk about, but they've made songs that have just lived in my brain for decades.

And for a couple years, I'd be listening to Pandora radio while writing up new TF2 fanfiction to terrorize TF2chan with. Certain songs would come up so often because I specifically bookmarked them. I didn't really know a lot about shoegaze before Pandora, but now I own a physical copy of all three of Slowdive's albums, and you fucking bet "When the Sun Hits" was in heavy rotation while I was writing Respawn of the Dead.

Yes, this was playing while I was writing out Respawn of the Dead, chapter by chapter. And so was "Beautiful Plateau" by Sonic Youth, "The Sound" by Swans, "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and "End of the Line" by Murder By Death. And also this song by a band called The Clock Work Army, which split up and reformed into another band called Calico Horses, and I know this because I found this out while trying to track down a song that would play constantly on my Pandora station and it has, as of writing this sentence, 2,588 listens. And it might have more by the time you read this because I might just put it on loop because oh my god, I love this song so much, it hits so perfect for me, why don't more people know about this song?

It's not on YouTube, where I usually tend to listen to music, since I'll go through a rotation of songs that I call "work songs." I put on music while I write, and some songs are just so perfect that I can listen to them on loop with a very select number of songs that just never, ever get old for me. My neurons in my brain light up as though I was hearing it again for the first time.

Swans, Sigur Ros and The Dillinger Escape Plan are all artists who I found through Pandora that I've had the privilege to see live. By the time I was just discovering bands because I had a bunch of friends and mutuals with similar taste in music to mine, Pandora was slowly getting more and more ads. It was getting to the point where the free service would, if you were lucky, play only three or four songs before playing an ad. And when the length of those songs can span anywhere from less than three minutes for much of my beloved 80's and early 90's punk, to up to a half an hour for post-rock, noise, or ambient music. And the number of ads that played between songs had increased. What was just one every half an hour or so was now two to three for what could potentially be only after seven minutes of music. Pandora really doesn't like it if the music you like includes a lot of songs that are longer than an episode of The Simpsons.

I never hear anybody talk about Pandora anymore. Spotify is THE name in internet music streaming, and it favors listens of entire albums and other people's playlists. I don't like Spotify; sometimes I just want a specific song from a specific album. I could make a playlist of these "work songs," but I like when YouTube notices that I'm listening to music, and in the recommendeds, there's another song that I've listened to on repeat. Why yes, I would like you to play "Classical Homicide" by Dälek for me again. What's that? An hour loop of Deadmau5's "Professional Griefers" featuring Gerard Way? Yes please. I apologize for nothing. That dude's way better than Skrillex.

God, do you guys remember the Deadmau5/Skrillex shipping that was all over Tumblr in the early 2010's. I remember it. I remember it so hard. Everybody shipping them and the members of Daft Punk, posting Steam Powered Giraffe (blech) and Die Antwoord (lol) on my dashboard. In Die Antwoord's defense, they had some pretty funny music videos.

I got AdBlocker for YouTube, so the ads aren't a problem there. I mean, I could make a playlist for Spotify of my go-to songs, but I'd have to deal with ads. And there's something nice about YouTube's robots that sell my precious data to faceless corporations at least having the courtesy to be like "You look like you could use another stream of 'Anything (Viva!)' by Foetus. Or Scraping Foetus off the Wheel. Or... whatever, fuck it, it's J.G. Thirwell's band, okay? It's the guy that does the music for Venture Brothers."

Foetus was introduced to me through a friend but it was Pandora serving me up more of their music that made their albums "nail" and "Flow" ones that got the honor of Being Downloaded onto my iPod so I can Listen to This in my Car. I still use my iPod and even if there's albums that I haven't gone back to in years on there, I like having them there. I haven't listened to the soundtrack for Panty and Stocking in ages but having access to it so that I can FLY AWAY NOW, FLY AWAY NOW, FLY AWAAAYYYY on a long drive? I like having that option.

I still buy CDs so I can burn albums onto my iPod. My iPod doesn't have ads and switching between artists doesn't mean I have to flip through a CD binder. I also try to buy albums off of Bandcamp. Especially for smaller artists, or artists whose work I love enough to want to give them my money. I don't want to listen to ads. It throws off my workflow, shakes me out of the trance-like state that is pure, focused creativity. Whether it's working on comics or thinking about things I want to do in those comics, I'm usually listening to music. Sometimes the same album, hundreds of times over. I admit I haven't listened to that much King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, but I've listened to Nonagon Infinity front to back more times than I can count.

Nowadays it feels like I don't have a lot of friends who share my taste in music. I've so fully entrenched myself in fandom circles that I've been exposed to the average person's taste in music and I'm like "oh yeah, most people aren't as big of a fucking nerd about this as you are." You know how hard it is to get people who aren't music nerds to get into The Residents? Everybody I know that likes them already knew about them before we met, and people who had never heard of them before they met me usually find them deeply weird and never get fucking obsessed with them like I have. I own a physical copy of, not their original version of their album The King and Eye, which is an entire album of them covering Elvis that sounds like this, but the fucking remix of that album that does shit like this to their covers of Elvis songs. And you know what? I love both versions, but that remix of their cover of "Surrender" is a work song.

Listening to music is the only way I can guarantee that I'm actually working on something and not playing with my phone. I guess what I'm saying is... it sure would be nice if Pandora existed like it did back then right now.

Especially because I stopped cleaning up a page of my horrible Deltarune fan comic (MASSIVE Dead Dove warning, not even kidding, the entire story hinges on some very upsetting topics) just to write all this down and make sure there were links to every song in this essay. And like... I've even used the comic as a not-so-clandestine way into tricking them into listening to my music before. Whether it be directly namedropping bands and songs, writing about a specific character's taste in music and using that in the story somehow, or literally just making the title of one of my comic installments... this.

It is really good. 686 listens on YouTube. Absolutely criminal. And the example above? That's me not putting in hundreds of references into the comic and wondering if anybody else has noticed them.

I guess what I'm saying is that I am a huge music nerd, even though I always feel like I'm getting into artists super late (unless they're like Death Grips, but that was only after The Money Store had come out), but I fucking hate Spotify. I want more physical releases that can be preserved digitally, and I don't have the money to get into collecting vinyls as a hobby. All the vinyl I own is toys, and uh... I own a lot of those.

Thank you for reading through pure, uncut music autism mixed in with nostalgia and griping about capitalism because that's apparently where my head is at all the time when I'm not daydreaming my little stories or making up video essays in my head that will never be made. That's why I do stream of consciousness Tumblr essays full of minute details that absolutely are not necessary, but this is how my goddamn ADHD brain works. Now you know what it's like to be in my Discord server.

That post is, of course, pinned in the music channel.

As it should be.

... Fuck Pandora, I don't even fuck with it no more, I miss Grooveshark, weh, my playlist on that site was eight hours long before they shut it down in 2014. Devastated. I was in the middle of using it when it went offline.

Okay now I'm done for real, sorry.

[jewishrizahawkeye]

noah fence but i really think theres been a pendulum swing with swifites since the vienna threats re: private jet usage. like the security question is a reasonable concern, she and many celebrities of her status simply cannot travel by standard means but her jet usage is flagrantly wasteful. i wish the media and public would react to this by thinking of ways to ensure security for high risk people (celebrities) without writing them a blank check for emissions in the court of public opinion bc "its safer". taylors jet is helping make this planet unsafe for billions of people. why is one persons safety worth more than the safety of countless people who live in areas hardest hit by climate crises? there has to be a way to keep fanatics away from celebrities without leaving the rest of us to suffer the consequences of their "necessary security measures". swifites can should and must continue to bitch about the jet (actually jets plural) but i'll concede that we should stay focused on the catastrophic envrionmental harm they cause (and then we can crack open the international shipping and packaging on 10 million copies of 6 variants of the same goddamn record/cd next)

why are you sending me this? why do you have get on your soap box in my asks?

yes taylor’s jet usage is bad but there’s plenty of other celebrities that are FAR worse and there’s been proof of it. i’m not saying i support it at ALL but a to circle back to my post earlier:

WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME SOMETHING I DIDN’T ASK YOU TOO BECAUSE I LIKE TAYLOR SWIFT’S MUSIC???

why do you feel the need to preach in the inbox of a random person who has very little control over taylor swift? jesus christ you could’ve used the time it took you to send me this letter by writing a letter to a person who could’ve made a difference!

[gofancyninjaworld]

how do you think saitama will take kusenos death in the manga

*DUSTS OFF OLD MAILBOX*

Ahem,

I'm sorry for being so outrageously late with my asks. I can't promise I'll get to everyone, but I'm going to try to answer 3-4 a day until the box is empty.

I'm hoping that the doctor doesn't die. I'll explain why I hold out this slender hope. ONE ran a (now very old) unpopularity poll for the OPM characters -- I believe this was before the manga launched. Dr Kuseno was the 7th most unpopular character and had him say that he'd hoped to be a semi-regular supporting character but appeared so seldom that it was laughable. Getting tragically killed (relevant TV Tropes entry here) was pretty much the only relevant thing ONE could do with the character.

Murata has helped ONE rectify that regret. By chapter 80, we already had more pages of Kuseno and more insight into him as a character than we get in the entirety of his existence in the webcomic. And since then, we've seen him *act* and not be afraid to take on great personal risk to retrieve Genos in person, while also being humble enough to seek to understand Genos's situation in the field.

If he's going to die, he better not do so without donning his battlesuit and cutting loose at least once! Anyway...

... something that's been bugging me has been the film that Saitama and Genos saw in the audio CD 'Saitama and the Mysterious Heroine.' There, Genos notes that the hero was hamstrung by his concern for his family when trying to do battle against an elusive organisation. It's felt horribly like foreshadowing. Leaving Kuseno alive wouldn't necessarily be the *kind* thing to do: a dead man needs nothing. A living man, whether abducted or wounded, would put a lot of psychological and practical strain on Genos... and ONE's been giving him broader shoulders in the manga. As if he's getting ready to drop some awful burden on him.

Which only now brings me onto your question. Saitama only got to meet the old man once in the webcomic, albeit he broke bread with him and thought well of him. In the manga, Saitama has gotten to meet him at least twice, once, when Kuseno came to his apartment, and once when he waited with Genos after the end of the Monster Association raid. Chances are Saitama went with them as there's no way Metal Knight would not have tried sweeping Saitama up for treatment for radiation poisoning without Genos's assurance that he'd take care of him. Saitama has been very comfortable with the old man, comfortable enough to consider asking him for favours, not to mention that he's made it clear that the old man is welcome to visit him.

Saitama will miss Kuseno directly, although he won't be able to help being moved by Genos's grief. It'd also bring back that thing that's been bugging him a lot in the manga, about what the value of a hero is. He wouldn't be losing his head but it'd add sharpness to his words and spice to his fist when confronting the persons responsible.

[pettyprocrastination]

Tess and Joel having their will-they-won’t-they going on until one day Joel walks in on you and Tess making out against the wall and goes ‘hey >:[ ’ because he’s secretly wanted Tess for a while and thought he was obvious wants to kiss her too

big thank you to @madhyanas and @thesadvampire for being my lovely readers and @alwaysbethewest for listening to my senseless rambles about this amazing woman

pairing: Tess Servopoulos x Fem!Reader

warnings: Mention of death, foul language, mention of violence because its TLOU lmao

____

Nostalgia was a deadly thing. 

Tess learned this when she began smuggling six months after outbreak day. 

Military bases were strict on what was allowed and what wasn't; everything vital- medicine, spare clothing, food- was kept under lock and key with the threat of execution if anybody even thought about taking it. 

It started out of desperation. Sneaking extra pills to the parents whose daughter couldn't speak two words without her body shaking with a wet, rasping cough, snagging formula for the fifteen year old who had to take care of her four month old brother because her parents got gunned down on outbreak night and she’s all he has left, an act of kindness because Tess-Theresa was somebody with a bleeding heart. 

But overtime, it began to dry out. 

People didn’t stop asking- God no, they relied on her. But as time went on she began to set up prices. You want extra rations? Sure. Drugs? That’s fine. But it won’t come for free. She doesn’t slip past the guards every other month and risk getting bitten for charity. 

There were others, of course. Who slipped from the shadows after every sanitation shift whispering promises of “I can get you good shit, I’m reliable” to those far too exhausted to question them before slipping ration cards into their pocket. 

Which she didn’t mind. The QZ was big enough for more than a few businesses to take place beneath the glazed over eyes of FEDRA. 

As time went on, it wasn’t the necessities that people wanted from her. They got themselves used to living half starved, eating whatever rations they could buy with their credits earned from burning bodies and cleaning up rubble from every Firefly attack the week before and washing it down with water that always tasted a little bit like iron. 

They began to ask for small things. Weird things. 

“Can you find this book for me?” “I had this toy as a little girl, and I want it for my son, you think you can get it? I’ll pay whatever you want.” 

Things that weren’t necessary. Unneeded to survive in a world where the threat of death- be it by public execution of feeling your own body  turn against you and meld into the fungal-fueled cannibalistic hive-mind you’ve been running from for the past twenty years. 

But people didn’t want to survive anymore. 

They wanted to live. 

Hobbies, trinkets, CDs that skip on the same song every time because your kid scratched it a few weeks back but you don’t bother with getting a new one. 

Domesticity became a drug that nobody could say they weren’t addicted to. 

Anything that could give them a shred of the normalcy that they once had and took for granted before the world began to consume itself alive, rot and all. 

That’s where you came in. 

Tess wasn’t sure how you did it. What routes you used or what nights you snuck out from the QZ only to return the next morning with only a few bruises and a bag full of oddities to show for it. 

She asked you once, after seeing you proudly display a stack of vintage playboys on your rickety dinner table that you claimed were already set up for a buyer. 

All you did was smile. 

“You’re gonna have to take me out to dinner first if you want me to spill all my dirty secrets.”

But there was an agreement. A sharing of stock and profits each week that came with an understanding. Protection in the shape of the shadow that followed her everywhere and hardly spoke whenever you were in the same room. 

That’s why, when she first found the aged tube of lipstick, she thought of you. 

It was essentially useless. Most likely years past its expiration date and its label was rubbed off through years of sitting in a building covered in rubble and dust that kept it hidden from wandering eyes until she found it on her latest run with Joel. 

Somebody would buy it. A overworked mother in the QZ who spent her days working in the sun and the rot of the sanitation zone before going back home to a husband that ached just the same but still held her in his arms because they were all they had left. She’d shell out her hard earned money because it would give her a moment of relief where she could pretend she was still a housewife with three rambunctious young boys and a husband that despite his hemming and hawing loved it when she kissed him goodbye each day before he left for work. 

When she hands it to you in a trade-off, off-handedly mentioning “maybe you can pawn this to somebody” after you trade her hunting equipment that's old enough to have gone dull but still sharp enough to be sought after, your eyes go wide and you snatch it from her hands. 

“No fucking way.”

 Tess watches the look of shock on your face melt into pure joy at the plastic tube you held like a trophy. Realization dawns on her and she nearly laughs at your reaction to something so small.  “You used this shit?” 

“Are you kidding me? This was my fucking staple! I had one in my car, my bag, and in my bathroom back home.” You turned over the small tube with a smile she hadn’t seen before. Not one of that smug confidence you always wore, but one that held memories of the life you once had. 

“Crazy how small stuff like this gets through the cracks, right?” 

“You should keep it.” 

She shouldn’t have said that. Tess doesn’t keep merchandise, she sells it. She scrapes everything for a profit that's written down in a notebook so she can keep track to know who shorted her so she can get even but God- something about that look of pure unadulterated joy on your face made her speak out of turn and suddenly you looked at her like she had grown a second head and her face felt hot. 

“Oh, god. No I- I couldn't, really.” You attempt to hand it back to her but she holds her hands up in surrender.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. You had seen Tess send Joel out to scare those who ripper her off on bad deals countless times. Where he’d break their bones until they coughed up the money that was rightfully hers to the point where sometimes you’d look over your earnings in the dead of night just to make sure you didn’t have too much out of fear of the same happening to you someday.  

But she insists. A scarred hand pushes against yours and her eyes lock onto yours before skirting around the room. “Really-'' Her lips pull into a tight smile and the room feels tense, but maybe that was just you. She had that effect. “I don’t think anybody else would want something like this.” 

A lie. But one you accept nonetheless. 

You nod, fingers curling around the tip of red lipstick and feeling that smile, the type you can’t help, grow on your face again until it spreads to Tess and you're both smiling like schoolgirls that have shared a secret on the playground. 

“I uh. Thanks. I appreciate this.” 

Tess wonders what you were like before the outbreak. 

Were you always outgoing? The boisterous laugh that echoes in a crowded room and a smile that pulls people in even if they don’t want to. Did you wear this color- this deep crimson in the darkened corners of a restaurant while smiling at a stranger at the bar, pulling them closer until they are sitting next to you and offering to buy you another drink because they just can’t stop looking at you in that dress.

She imagines you putting it on in your bathroom mirror, back before the world began to eat itself alive. The counter of your sink is messy, but organized in a way that only makes sense to yourself. There’s a song playing from the hall and you absentmindedly sing-mumble the lyrics as you get ready for the day. A pet, maybe a dog- you seemed like the type, weaves between your legs and you reach down to scratch behind their ear before painting your lips red in the mirror. You’d pull back to check if any lines were out of place, running a finger along a smudge that dipped over your cupid's bow before pulling back and smiling at your reflection. 

There’s a small scar that begins at the side of your chin and swipes up to the corner of your lip. Has it always been there?

“You should put it on.” 

You whip your head towards her as if she has spoken another language. A silence settles over the two of you, she can hear the FEDRA guards outside shouting orders and the shuffling of feet from the floor above you both. 

It’s too close. She’s teetering over a line she hasn’t crossed with anybody, not even Joel. 

But where he holds her at arm's length, you welcome and challenge her further every time. 

“Really?” 

“Why not?” she shrugs. “It could be pretty.” 

Tess wonders if you were married. 

If there was somebody who wore your lipstick stains each night with a grumble as they wiped at their face, only further smearing your declaration of affection as you laughed by their side before kissing them again and again until they were rushing to unlock the front door and tug you inside behind them. Somebody you fell asleep with, curled under their arms and woke up to with bad breath and messy hair but you mumbled “g’morning” and kissed them just the same. 

Somebody you loved. 

Somebody you had a life with. 

Somebody you watched get ripped from your arms when the world turned to shit on September 26th, 2003. 

But none of it mattered, really. Who anybody was before the outbreak. Those people, the mothers and fathers, the soft spoken girlfriends and sweet neighbors who worked a 9 to 5 and went on date nights each saturday died when the cordyceps took over every body they found and the military gunned down each man, woman, and child in sight that couldn’t fit on base. 

“How do I look?” 

But she sees it- just for a moment. In your painted lips, ever so slightly smudged in the corner of your lips and the look in your eyes that makes her chest tighten in a way she hasn’t felt in years. 

Tess sees somebody she would have watched run the crosswalk on a saturday morning, a mess of hair and a crooked smile would just barely glance in her direction before vanishing into the crowd onto the sidewalk but would refuse to leave her mind for the rest of the day. 

When Joel returns to the apartment, he eats in silence as Tess tells him their next run will be in two weeks. Until then they have a stock of pills to sell and some additional supplies you handed off to last them for now. 

He says nothing about the faint red smudge on the corner of her mouth, nor the one peeking out from the collar of her shirt. 

[domquixotedospobresblog]

My dream is to meet you, to know how this great woman thinks, whom I only know in the texts I travel to read, to know her deepest secrets, to see her sincerity when she smiles and also cries, because dreams also bring sadness, they are the dreams of meeting again, to know her musical taste by rummaging through her CD shelves, if suddenly she talks about love just by writing, it's true, you can tell a lot about a personality by the music you usually listen to, I wanted to know if you are shy or extroverted, it would give me an idea of ​​what to talk about, invite you for coffee or tea, I guarantee that I would make lunch, coffee and dinner myself, I like to welcome those who come to visit me, the house is humble and small, but the owner has a big and warm heart, I don't drink, but I would serve you a good wine, I want to see your lips in action while I stay there very quiet, I talk more than my mouth, that's what they usually say, that for every story they tell I already remember three that I lived, but I would let you speak without interruption, I just want to hear you, make my dream come true and I invite you to look at the stars when night falls, and under the moon I will lull you to sleep, and I will even risk a serenade before the night ends.

Jonas r Cezar

[viscousneon]

WHATS UR FAV LITTLE SHOP SONGS GUYS

I LOVE ALL THE PLANT SONGS GUYS WHAT ABOUT YOU

I wanna post my collection but i have a little audrey in a jar thats reflective so I dont wanna risk a face reveal 🥺

My collection was the dvd which is now missing, i have the case tho

The CD on soundtrack

A little Audrey 2 in a jar 😊

And a little cast booklet from when i saw it live

[domini-porter]

What's your favourite dinosaur?

I’m not a big dinosaur guy, tbh—it always seemed like it’d be really humid, you know?—BUT I will use this ask to talk about two of my favorite dinosaur-focused experiences.

FIRST: my dad lived in Central Texas for a few years for work. I went to visit him exactly one time (for a wide variety of reasons) but we did a ton of shit, including Brazos Bend State Park, where my dad clotheslined a five-year-old to keep him from running directly into an alligator’s open mouth, and NASA Johnson Space Center, which is the coolest fucking place I’ve ever been, and, more relevant to this ask, Dinosaur Valley State Park.

The park itself is very cool, particularly for Texas, which is something like 3% public land, so just the fact of a state park is cool. The river where the tracks are is shallow and thank the lordt for that because even though I went in early April it was one thousand degrees, so being able to actually find and avail myself of water was very nice. And I put my feet in dinosaur tracks! Sick.

The main thing, though, is a couple miles away there’s a Creationist museum. So obviously my dad and I went there. The rule was whoever spontaneously combusted first got out of buying lunch (nobody burst into flames, alas). The museum is VERY creepy. It has a LOT to recommend it as a cynical atheist with a bad attitude toward evangelicals. From a historical standpoint, it does have a really impressive collection of Judaica (it might be run by the Hobby Lobby people, so). But the main, dinosaur-adjacent thing, is that a huge aspect of this “museum” is portraying dinosaurs as real, but contemporaries of humans. There’s a “scale model” of the Ark filled with plastic toy animals. A pterodactyl chilling with the sheep. A triceratops and a holstein, friends at last. There’s a giant mural on one wall depicting Creation; Adam (who looks exactly like young Ronald Reagan) and Eve are hanging out with a T-rex. Absolute insanity. 10/10, would risk my eternal soul again.

SECOND: a few years ago jda and I drove from MPLS to Seattle via the northern route, because of some questionable choices. Namely, trying to find something interesting to see in North Dakota, and the only interesting thing we could find was a 70-foot fiberglass sculpture of a turtle (Tommy) riding a snowmobile. So we adjusted our route TWO HUNDRED MILES out of our way to drive to within 30 miles of the Canadian border to an oil town(ish) called Bottineau, where Tommy’s located. Our motel was attached to a liquor store which was attached to a bar. We got blackout drunk. I made a handshake deal to buy a truck from a roughneck. We blew town at 7am, still dark and still drunk (bad idea; don’t do it).

The oilfields of Northern North Dakota look like Mordor. The second we drove across the Montana border we could feel ourselves physically lighten, which I’ve since heard is true of other people, too.

Anyway. We tootle around Montana for a couple days, as was the plan (if you’re ever in Big Timber, stay at the Lazy J; it rules). On the day we were heading to Butte to see the Ringing Rocks we had some extra time, so while we were getting coffee in Bozeman we figured hey, why not go to a natural history museum? We love that kind of nerd shit, and it might be a chill hour or so.

Three hours later we had an oh shit moment, as in oh shit, we still have four more hours of driving today. Because while the Museum of the Rockies in Bozeman may look small and quaint from the outside (despite the full t-rex skeleton out front) it is massive. And it is full. of. bones. There’s a room that’s just triceratops skulls. Like, sixty triceratops skulls. You can watch paleontologists clean specimens, like a zoo exhibit. I got a CD of dinosaur sounds even though I haven’t had a CD player since 2008. It was sick as hell. I’m desperate to go back.

So: I don’t especially vibe on dinosaurs as, like, creatures (even though as a child I was obsessed with The Land Before Time)(original only). But I do vibe with science, and I do vibe with weirdos, and dinosaurs are one of our premiere loci for both.

pictured: tommy the turtle; ronnie and eve; kickin’ it on the ark

[cazort]

I see a disturbing number of people, mostly millennials, these days, who have significant incomes and are starting to amass significant savings, who have terrible financial management skills. People who live at home with parents and get a full time job can accumulate money really fast. A lot of people are letting huge amounts of money, like sometimes as much as $20,000 or more, accumulate in checking accounts where it is earning either no interest or negligible interest.

Because inflation is high (over 3% these days), you are effectively losing money when it sits there. Also you're allowing the bank to profit off it; it's lending your money out to other people, often at interest rates as high as 6-7% or more, and it's not paying you for it.

If you have more than maybe around $3000 dollars in an account, you want that money earning interest. Here are things you can do to earn more from your money:

Open a savings account at a higher yield. Go to a different bank if necessary. CIT Bank has rates around 5% these days.

Pay off high interest rate debt but not low-interest rate debt. If the interest rate is above about 7-8% definitely make it a priority to pay it off ASAP. If it is above 5% it is still better to pay it off than to sit on your money. If it is much below 5%, pay it off as slowly as possible (minimum payment only) because there are risk-free ways to earn more interest on your money.

If you don't need the money in the short-term, consider a CD (Certificate of Deposit) which offers a fixed interest rate over a certain time. Often you can get a slightly higher rate by tying your money up for 3 months or 6 months or sometimes even longer. These are good options if you have a specific expenditure in your future, like perhaps moving or buying a home, but you know it won't happen until after a certain date.

Open a brokerage account. Brokerage accounts allow you to buy and sell investments such as stocks, mutual funds, or bonds, which include CD's from banks as well as treasury and municipal bonds and corporate bonds. You get more options for buying CD's (i.e. you can compare many different banks side-by-side, buy CD with the best rate, and manage multiple CD's within a single interface.) Most brokerage accounts have no fees and typically no or very low minimum investments. There is no reason not to have one if you have a few thousand dollars.

In a brokerage account, buy a money market mutual fund. Look for one with no load and no transaction fee, a high yield, and a low expense ratio, and a fixed share price of $1 per share. My two favorite are SWVXX and SNSXX. SWVXX has a higher yield (about 5.19%) whereas SNSXX has a lower yield (just over 5%) but is non-taxable on state income taxes, so SNSXX is a better choice if you have a high state tax rate, otherwise SWVXX is better.

Consider opening a Roth IRA if you haven't, and then, if able, contribute the maximum amount each year. You are allowed to make a contribution that counts towards the previous year, up until the tax filing deadline of the current year. So for example today it is Mar. 14th, 2024, so you can open a Roth IRA today and contribute the max ($6,500) for the 2023 year and also the max ($7,000) for 2024, for a total of $13,500. The main advantage of a Roth IRA is that the money in them can grow tax-free. Roth IRA's benefit anyone able to have one (the richest people are not allowed to contribute to them) and are especially important for people who are self-employed, change jobs a lot, or never work full-time, so they don't have a consistent employee-provided retirement plan.

Consider investing in stocks. Stocks are riskier (in that their price changes, and you can lose money when investing in them), but tend to have a higher yield than savings and money market accounts and funds. The simplest way to buy stocks is to buy an ETF (exchange-traded-fund). I recommend buying one that follows the S&P 500 and has a low expense ratio like SPY or VOO. Whatever you buy, reinvest the dividends and let it grow, contribute a little money every year so are putting in money even in years the market is down. On average you get about a 10% return in the market but it is unpredictable and you will lose in some years, but that's okay, you're not retiring for many decades and the money will have grown a lot by then.

There are options regardless of your risk profile. It is throwing your money away to let a lot of money sit in a checking account. At a bare minimum, go for a high-yield savings account, CD, or better yet get a brokerage account, put it in high-yield money market funds like SWVXX, shop around for CD's or other bonds with the highest rates, and if you are able to tolerate some risk and want a higher return, consider putting some money in more aggressive investments like stocks.

I am 100% for tax reform and other reform to curb the extreme concentration of wealth in the hands of a few, but it's also important to take your financial situation into your own hands. Get financially comfortable. Get a stake in the US economy. Empower yourself so you can live better and help your family, friends, and the causes you care about.