#strings/keys incident tour

[doesnotsvffice]

In California by Joanna Newsom

[joannacnewsom]

happy hoom day to all those who celebrate!

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 19

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

California, August 24, 2020.

Twenty minutes until the band's final performance of the year, and you'd finally be on vacation.

The air circulated better in your lungs when you remembered that you’d finally get to rest after an intense and seemingly endless string of album promotions and tours. Maybe you could even travel to a new country or perhaps visit a distant beach where not a single human soul roamed.

But when you remembered this required a plane ride, you immediately gave up, deciding that staying home and not stepping foot outside until the return to the stage next year was the better choice. The idea of relaxing in a distant place felt as impossible as the notion of taking a real vacation. You needed to come to terms with your reality.

“Can we say this phase of the band has been a real success? We’ve seen you at more festivals and opening for bigger metal names, which should mean you're reaching a broader audience, right?” the interviewer asked, holding the microphone close to your face.

“That depends on what success means to you,” your voice came out sharp, maybe a little too pointed. “Being at a lot of festivals and opening for more shows than in our last phase doesn’t mean success to me. That audience definitely isn’t ours when we’re placed in spaces disproportionate to our style. They’re not here to see us and couldn’t care less about getting to know us.”

“Looking at it that way, you’re right, especially considering the last incident at a recent festival. That crowd wasn’t ready to embrace a different musical style, and you paid the price for that.”

Your head nodded slowly as she agreed with your point. At the last festival in Florida, which she referenced, you had to endure an overwhelming amount of criticism from the audience simply for replacing a major band they actually wanted to see.

Fair enough, situations like that happened frequently in the music world, but it seemed deliberate that Gerard kept pushing you into unpleasant, unsuitable situations just for the thrill of easy money and stuffing your schedules to keep his ridiculous scheme running.

He didn’t even bother to read contracts or check if the working conditions were remotely decent.

“But that’s the price you pay when the person managing the band and booking our gigs values money above all else,” you said with a tight smile, shrugging. “We can die on stage repeating the same formula for years, playing in tiny venues and festivals that go against what we believe in and even alienate us from our real audience, but that will never measure whether the band has truly succeeded. Because it was never about quantity.”

“Do you think social media reach could change that?”

“Maybe, but it’s not something we have control over. We could blow up on a social network tomorrow with a generic song that takes less than ten minutes to produce, but if we’re still tied to someone who cares less about us than we do about ourselves because we’re just a smokescreen to cover up label problems, the issues will remain the same.”

“Wow!” the interviewer gasped slightly, her eyes widening. You couldn’t deny she had been kind and professional since she insisted this interview should solely feature the band’s female voice—a rare occurrence for you. “It’s important to know that, as a key band member, you think this way. We go to the shows and listen to the music without knowing half of what goes on behind the scenes. That’s sad.”

“Our biggest responsibility is handling our own mess without letting it spill over to the audience. You deserve to enjoy the art we create especially for you, and we’ll take care of the rest—just that.” You smiled, blowing a kiss toward the camera. “See you next time!”

You skipped back to the dressing room, certain it wouldn’t be long before Gerard stormed through the door to choke you out over your statements in the interview. He knew full well you disagreed with his management style, and you made it more evident every day as you counted down the days to free yourself from the one thing that still bound you: the contract.

In your mind, the more you defied him and eroded his dignity in front of the media, the sooner he’d give up using you as his captive.

Huffing until your lips trembled, you stood before the mirror, retouching anything out of place in your makeup. Your fingers pressed the compact powder under your eyes and a bit over your nose. You didn’t usually warm up and found it unnecessary, but at most, you’d breathe deeply a few times, holding the air in before releasing it, eyes closed.

You had a good boyfriend who loved you, a happy home you’d always dreamed of sharing with him, talent, a career, fans who followed you, and real friends who cared about you. Yet there was still this growing hollowness in the pit of your stomach, whispering constantly that none of it was enough.

You didn’t deserve any of this.

The room was partially lit, with only the faint glow of a lamp in the corner casting shadows on the walls of the dressing room. You were making the final touches to your makeup, the muffled sound of the opening band echoing in the background. The usual pre-show nerves were almost comforting.

Suddenly, the door creaked as it opened. Without turning around, you sighed, keeping your tone nonchalant.

“Sorry, but I’m not seeing any fans right now.”

There was no immediate reply, just the sound of soft footsteps crossing the carpet.

“I said I’m not—” You stopped when a chill ran down your spine. The sensation was instant, an invisible weight pressing on your chest, making the air feel heavier.

“Is that how you treat family now, doll?” The raspy, familiar voice froze you to the core.

You turned slowly, as if your mind was trying to delay the inevitable. When your eyes finally landed on the figure emerging from the shadows, your throat went dry, and the lipstick you were holding slipped from your hand.

“You...” Your voice was trembling, barely more than a whisper.

Seth took another step forward, the shadows dancing across his face partially hidden by a cap. His smile was as cold as his words.

“Oh, yes, doll. It’s me. I missed you.”

You stood frozen, unable to move a muscle. Your heart pounded so hard it echoed in your ears, and the air became harder to draw in. Your hands started to shake, buried memories struggling to resurface.

He stepped closer, his sarcastic tone dripping with menace.

“After everything we went through together, you acted like an ungrateful little bitch, handing me over to the cops with all those lies. Did you really think you could rat me out and then just go on tour with your band like we didn’t have unfinished business?”

“No…” You breathed as you tried to back away. “This place is full of security watching the band members, and if you take another step, I’ll make a scene.”

When he reached out to grab you, you stepped back, but your legs felt like lead.

“Then scream, doll! Scream!” He laughed.

You moved quickly, darting through the small gap he left to run toward the door. But with a single stride, Seth reached your torso and threw you to the floor, pinning you down as he straddled you. Your air was cut off, and before you could scream, he silenced you with a punch to the side of your face, making your head loll to the side.

“Listen here, doll,” he growled, grabbing your face with one hand and covering your mouth with the other, forcing you to look at him. “I really ought to kill you, but luckily for you, I got out of your little stunt. So, I’ll just punish you for being a stupid bitch!”

Your heart was pounding so fiercely it felt like it might burst from your chest. Sweat ran down your spine like a stream, and all you wanted was to scream until your organs trembled, but something held you back. A moment of desperation made you avert your gaze, your eyes widening, and in a desperate impulse, your teeth sank into the flesh of his hand covering your mouth, hard enough for the metallic taste to flood your palate.

He growled in pain, yanking his hand away abruptly. The momentary distraction was enough for you to wriggle free and stumble to your feet.

Your heart was still racing uncontrollably, and your eyes darted around frantically for an escape, anything to get you away from him. But he recovered quickly, his gaze darkened with fury, rage fueled by the pain.

“You think you’re stronger than me?” he sneered venomously, wiping the blood from his hand on his shirt. “You haven’t changed at all. Still the same weak, broken little girl.”

His words were like knives, cutting straight to your core. Your breathing was erratic, and your knees threatened to buckle at any moment. Seth opened his mouth to say more, but his words were cut off when a furious blur grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I’m about to kill you for laying a hand on her.”

Seth laughed as he tried to break free, but Noah slammed him against the wall with enough force to make a dull thud echo through the room. That was all it took to unleash a flurry of punches that made Seth retaliate with one that struck Noah’s face, but Noah seemed fueled by pure rage. Within seconds, the two were exchanging fierce blows amidst growls, toppling chairs and scattering makeup and clothes across the floor.

Your stepfather seemed at a disadvantage as Noah blocked his arm to prevent him from striking. Through the haze clouding your vision, you could see all of Noah’s anger pouring out on that damned man, whose face became unrecognizable from the sheer amount of blood streaming down.

You stood still, hands trembling and eyes fixed on his face, as if frozen in time. Everything around you seemed like a blur. The sounds of the fight, the muffled screams, the thudding of fists meeting flesh—all of it felt distant.

Your whole body shook, a mix of fear and memory. It was as if you'd been transported back in time, the same sense of helplessness washing over you.

Finally, the sound of hurried footsteps broke into the dressing room—members of the crew rushing in to separate the two. Seth was forcibly dragged away, still trying to fight with a sneering expression, but Noah kept glaring at him with eyes full of hatred, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“We’ll see each other soon. Don’t forget, I’m a big fan of the band, doll,” Seth said as he was dragged down the hallway, while you tried to cover your ears.

Noah wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, turning his gaze back to you. His face softened instantly when he noticed your state.

“Hey,” he called, his voice quieter now as he knelt in front of you. His restless, gleaming eyes assessed the situation on your face and carefully passed over the bruise on your cheekbone. “Sorry for losing control like that, but when I walked in and saw he’d hurt you, I just…”

You didn’t want to hear more, cutting him off by throwing yourself into his lap, desperately seeking his embrace. Noah sighed and pulled you into his arms, cradling you gently. He rested his lips on the top of your head, pressing a lingering kiss there.

He was never violent, had never even raised his voice to you in all these years together. You knew that for something to have triggered his primal instincts like this, it meant he truly cared.

“Who was he?” he asked, running his thumb along the side of your arm.

“Seth.” You barely mustered the strength to respond, the name slipping out. “My mom’s boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t I know he existed?” As pointed as the question was, he sounded only curious. “And why the hell did he show up like that?”

“I thought I’d buried that part of my life when I left Richmond. I didn’t want to remember where I came from, much less what drove me to leave that house.”

“I don’t recall you ever mentioning your home, and now I understand why,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

“To me, he died the day I turned him in to the police, just hours before we officially moved to Los Angeles.”

You had no idea he’d been out there beyond the voices in your head and the delusions that made you think you’d seen him somewhere. You had believed it was just your mind sabotaging you, but he had remained silent all these years, simply tracking your steps.

“He found out what I did and was trying to punish me for it. Sorry for never bringing this up before—I’ve always tried to forget that part of my life, and it took me longer than it should’ve to report what he did,” you said, your voice breaking as you bit your lip and clung to Noah tighter. “First, I had to learn on my own that I wasn’t the defective piece in the factory.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “You don’t have to go into it if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll never stop thinking you’re the bravest woman I know because of this.”

The subtle brush of his lips on the tip of your nose made you crack a brief smile. No matter what dirty lies your mind tried to plant to ruin the moment, they couldn’t steal the feeling of being truly safe without having to fight to survive alone.

“20 seconds until you’re onstage.” A deep voice interrupted sharply, drawing your attention to the door.

“We’re not performing tonight,” Noah declared. “She’s hurt, and she’s just been through a lot.”

“20 seconds until you’re onstage,” Gerard repeated, pounding on the door again. “Jolly and Ruffilo are already starting the intro, and I won’t tolerate delays when this counts as a direct breach of contract with the event’s producers!”

“Did you hear what I said?” Noah turned to him over his shoulder, his tone hardening. “Neither of us is in the right headspace to perform!”

Slowly, you pulled away from Noah’s embrace and got to your feet with a tired sigh. This might be the first time he’d have to deal with Gerard’s true nature so blatantly, but you were used to swallowing your problems and getting to work.

Gerard entered the room with slow steps and stopped in front of him, waiting until he also stood.

“I remember saying I didn’t care if you two were screwing around as long as it didn’t interfere with your work,” he said, stroking his chin. “But I feel like that agreement is being broken when you can’t even hide on stage that you were trying to kill each other in the dressing room.”

“But…” Noah tried to argue, but Gerard cut him off.

“I don’t care what you were doing!” He pointed a finger for emphasis. “But both of you are going to find a way to cover that up on your faces, and for every second you delay, I’m docking it from your pay at the end of the month.”

With those harsh words, he turned and left the room. The intro of the first song was already playing faintly in the distance, and you and Noah exchanged glances for a few seconds. It didn’t really matter what either of you wanted or whether the situation was fair.

You never believed much in justice anyway.

The adrenaline from the stage was still coursing through your veins as you walked backstage, an almost electric energy pulsing through every movement, and the vibration of the crowd still echoed in your ears, drowning out everything around you, including the shadow that approached almost imperceptibly.

"Good job today," the man said casually, with a friendly smile that could fool anyone. Before you could react, he slipped something small and discreet into the palm of your hand.

You froze for a second, but the euphoria of the moment seemed to justify the gesture. It wasn’t as if it were something new. Still, as you glanced at the small package, your throat went dry.

"Thanks," you murmured softly, trying not to draw attention.

Your steps quickened toward the dressing room, and the sound of the boys' voices grew more distant as you moved away. As soon as you entered the small space, you heard the door slam shut behind you, and, like a furious storm, Noah advanced, snatching what was in your hand.

He held the package at eye level, his gaze fixed on you as if trying to solve an impossible puzzle.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice as sharp as a blade.

You tried to respond, but the knot in your throat held you back.

"I asked you what the fuck this is!" he yelled, throwing the package onto the nearby table. The small object slid across the surface and stopped right in your line of sight.

"It’s..." you stammered, scratching the back of your neck and pulling at some strands of hair. "It’s nothing important."

"Nothing important?" he repeated, incredulous. "Are you kidding me?"

"Of course not."

"Is this why you’ve been acting weird?" he pressed.

You averted your gaze, unable to look at him, but he wasn’t going to let it go.

"You lied to me," he continued, anger spilling from every word. "You made me believe you were just nervous, that there was too much going on at once. You made me believe it was all about the music, about the show, about me... But it’s this?"

He pointed at the package as if it were something vile.

"When did we start hiding things from each other like we don’t live under the same roof? When did you become someone I don’t know, someone who has a life parallel to the one you show me every day?"

"Stop, Noah!" you shouted back, finally finding the strength to speak, clutching the sides of your head. "You’re doing this again, and I don’t need you managing my life like I’m your responsibility!"

He let out a bitter laugh, running his hands through his hair—a gesture you recognized as a sign of extreme frustration.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he said, his voice now lower but still charged with intensity. "I care about you! I care about everything we’ve built together, and now it feels like we’re not even on the same page, but you always said we were!"

He stopped, the words seeming to choke him.

"I’m not going to stand by and watch this happen."

You tried to respond, but the guilt and weight of emotions were overwhelming. Deep down, you knew he was right. But admitting it was something you weren’t ready to do.

The words came out like a desperate sob, broken and repetitive. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me."

You knew each syllable carried a torment that felt impossible to express, yet they spilled out between sobs. Your eyes met his, and it was like looking into a mirror of pain. Noah’s eyes were brimming with tears, his face flushed with a mix of anger and deep sadness you never wanted to see in him—especially because of you.

He stepped back, as if he needed distance to breathe, but you couldn’t let him go. Without thinking, you stepped forward and grabbed his hand. Your touch, though trembling, had the power to disarm him. You felt his shoulders gradually relax, his furrowed brows softening. Still, the hurt remained there, etched in every line of his face.

This was what you hated—hated so much. Having to show him the darkest parts of yourself, the ones you did everything to hide. Noah didn’t deserve this.

He was good, so good.

You not.

"You’re absolutely right, my love," you said in a weak voice, almost a whisper. "I was nervous; I thought it was the better choice… But this was never about you. Not when it’s by your side that my noisy mind finds a little silence."

As you spoke, your fingers sought his damp cheeks, carefully tracing the lines of his pain. He yielded, the rigidity in his expression giving way to exhausted weariness, and he rested his forehead against yours. There, in the small space between you, your breaths began to intertwine until they became one rhythm.

Noah closed his eyes as he felt the tip of your nose brush against his.

"I’ll never do this again," you promised, your voice choked. "I’ll never use it again. I’ll never lose myself like this, but I need you not to leave me alone when I only have you."

He remained silent for what felt like an eternity. When he finally spoke, it was with an almost inaudible whisper, yet it carried the weight of the world.

"If you’re feeling bad about something, if your past still hurts, if you feel like you don’t belong where you are now… then share it with me. Let it hurt me, but don’t do this to yourself." He paused, his voice breaking in the midst of his confession. "I love you so much, little storm, and I would never treat you this way."

Your heart clenched with a new pain, a guilt that seemed intent on suffocating you. You loved him more than anything, but was this what love did? It placed you in front of yourself, forcing you to face your flaws?

"I know. I know. I know." You repeated, the words falling like rain as you held his face in both hands. "I love you, my love, and I’ll never hurt you like this again."

He opened his eyes, now filled with a painful hope.

"Promise?"

That word clenched your throat tightly. You couldn’t lie to him anymore. Not after this.

"I promise," you replied, your voice low but firm.

And, for a moment, as your eyes remained locked on his, you almost believed you could keep that promise.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fic Titles Based On Common Sayings (2) Masterlist

part one

A Leap in the Dark (ao3) - Bleeding Phass Incident (doctorwhat420)

Summary: Dan’s fingers brushed Lester’s face on the screen. Cold, plastic, hard… Yeah, it was probably just like the real deal.

a night to remember (ao3) - grievingwarwidow

Summary: roxie, who prefers the label exotic performer over stripper, is a star amongst people who are out when the sun goes down. who better for a close-minded phil who has despised what he labels as lowlifes to suddenly obsess over than Roxie himself?

aka the one where phil gets pathetically hung up on dan, better known as roxie and is desperate to get to know him better.

cat got your tongue? (ao3) - megiaolf

Summary: A near wholesome cat cafe au.

(TW) Catch You on the Flipside (ao3) - Amorist (dead_on_the_inside)

Summary: Dan is holding himself together by the seams after running away from a religious cult. He has to ask himself why he keeps going, but deep down, he knows the answer already. It's the same answer it was long before his parents packed up and moved him to a thinly-veiled conversion camp in America���Phil.

Or, my excuse to write self-indulgent angst, because sometimes we need that.

Come Clean (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Dan thinks Phil might be in love with him, but he's not quite sure how to figure it out.

Communication Is Key (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: In which au Dan and Phil are friends with benefits despite the fact that neither of them want to be friends with benefits and Dan just sucks at talking about his feelings

connected at the hip (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Are Dan and Phil connected?

Falling for you (ao3) - dnpangels

Summary: Dan and Phil are cuddling in Phil's tour bus bunk. When Dan slips and falls out of the bunk, he wakes up the entire tour crew. Fluff and teasing from the crew ensues.

heart skipped a beat (ao3) - dontcrydraft

Summary: Dan and Phil have a day to spare in Stockholm - cue the seals and the meese, it's time to go to the zoo!

Just A Scrape (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: Phil falls off stage at the Terrible Influence Tour and minorly injures his leg. It should feel like nothing, but after the long string of medical emergencies that he's suffered, Dan can't help but panic.

Lost In Thought (ao3) - microwaveoven

Summary: Based on that one part in pizza mukbang 2 where DNP talk about why the hiatus started and how Phil felt lost for a while

Made for Each Other (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil 2009 Halloween YouTube meetup but it's insanely sweet. Based off some of the videos other people uploaded of them standing off alone during it. More emo boys kissing vibes.

make it work (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: dan is on vacation at the bahamas, where he meets phil - someone who's in the same rut as him. they connect and swoon over how compatible they both are but realise they only have a limited amount of time to spare together.

Making the cut (ao3) - philsbignaturals

Summary: In which Dan is a single-dad lawyer and Phil is his barber.

marriage is just a piece of paper (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: In the middle of the night in Manchester sometime in 2011, two young men get engaged.

On Top of the World (ao3) - dnpangels

Summary: Dan Howell is known at Cedar Creek High School for being the star quarterback and for having dated every girl in the junior year. Phil Lester is known for almost always getting the lead in the school play and being a straight-A student. Dan is popular in the stereotypical way, while Phil is popular within the groups that he chooses to be a part of. Another thing that almost everyone knows is that Dan and Phil are definitely not friends.

An AU in which Dan is the school's quarterback, and Phil is a theater kid.

one & only (ao3) - daliddl

Summary: Dan just finished his very last We‘re All Doomed show in London and a certain unexpected guest is waiting for him in the dressing room.

One and Only (ao3) - clcprint

Summary: dan meets a new phil and his phil gets jealous.

or

phil loses the idgaf war

One of Those Days (ao3) - cats_with_no_tails

Summary: Based on the anecdote from Dan’s birthday stream that Phil dropped his ice cream and cried, featuring Autistic Phil + Dan comforting him during a meltdown.

out of the blue (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: “Did you know my first word was ‘light’?” Phil asks. His pale skin reflects the blue so strongly he may as well be glowing too.

Dan smiles. “Explains a lot.”

Risk and Reward (ao3) - domisnotonfire

Summary: This work is inspired by Appetite & Defiance by jestbee and is supposed to be a continuation of that series, read that first or this one won't make sense. All credits for the idea of this fic and any original characters goes to them.

Side By Side (ao3) - SpiritsDJH

Summary: Dan and Phil, reeling in all the feelings of tour, and finally being able tour the world together again.

take on the world (ao3) - blossomsphan

Summary: just some soft, post-show intimacy <3

that's what friends are for (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Long before Dan Howell was a rock god, he was in a band.

The Dance That We Do (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Prince Daniel of Howellot and Prince Philip of Lesterall share an evening together at the summer ball. Unbeknownst to them, this night will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

the man of my dreams (ao3) - mel_m_a_o

Summary: He first dreamed about this man maybe two months ago. The dream wasn’t really something out of the ordinary and Dan didn’t really remember what it was about, but it stuck out to him, because he wasn’t usually someone who remembered his dreams. He often thought he just doesn’t dream at all, but that certainly changed. He keeps dreaming about the same pale, black haired man and his bright eyes that make Dan wake up in a sweat. He starts to see the face everywhere all the time until he actually does.

Time and Time Again (ao3) - Mysticallykai

Summary: Have you ever met someone for the first time, and felt at ease immediately? When you looked into their eyes, you saw a movie of your lives together, and when you shook hands, warmth surrounded you. A strange form of recognition, though you had never met them before.

Sometimes, when you meet someone new, it’s less of a “nice to meet you.” and more of a “glad to see you again!” Soulmates, some people call them. Two halves of one soul, torn apart only to meet again. Kindred spirits, others call it—two separate souls who have known each other for many lifetimes. No matter what you might call it, that recognition is there.

When Dan Howell saw his first AmazingPhil video, he felt a longing that was like nothing he had dealt with before. He needed to know this human as well as he knew himself. Though he hadn’t met the other man yet, he knew that they were destined to be friends, lovers or 4000-year-old tortoises together. How many lifetimes had they already shared?

Time is on our side (ao3) - Mysticallykai

Summary: In 2010, AmazingPhil decided to make a video trying to time travel. He ends up meeting his boyfriend Dan in the year 2023 as well as himself, and he has a lot of questions.

'tis the damn season (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: Dan is the coffee shop regular at the shop Phil just started working at. Phil quickly learns that Dan is a bit of a Grinch who refuses to try the shops' holiday drinks, or anything new really. Phil's determined to change Dan's mind about the holiday drinks.

Viva Las Vegas (ao3) - evermorepeyton

Summary: Dan and Phil go to Las Vegas on October 19th. For what? Honestly, who knows? But maybe we should all seriously imagine it anyway.

[sad-sad-detective]

All Wrong

Without Aether, everything during the tour goes wrong. But Dewdrop has his packmates by his side.

Or, Dew hurts his knee on stage but Rain and Phantom are here to help.

Please, keep in mind that I hc Dew and Rain as siblings.

Also, English isn't my native language.

Words: 1,437

Tags: non-human ghouls, slice of life, injury, healing, hurt/comfort, implied Aether/Dewdrop

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

From the beginning of this tour, everything went wrong.

Everything fell apart, his effects pedals broke, his monitor burned out, and even the concert guitar, as if sensing its owner's mood, kept trying to cut his fingers with the strings or shut up in the middle of a solo. Normally Dew took setbacks in stride, but this time his patience was wearing thin. The guitar picks melted in his hands, and one of the broken pedals caught fire "by accident" - he blamed it on a malfunction of the pyrotechnics, but Papa still looked at him with a suspicious eye.

But what happened later was the final straw.

He didn't know how it happened: during "Year Zero" his boot slipped on the stage floor and Dew fell on his knee. He felt the impact - and everything went black for a moment. He managed to hide a scream in an expressive gesture. 

As he tried to get up, his knee crunched, sending another shoot of pain. The pyrotechnics on stage worked well: in the darkness that followed, Dew managed to finally get up without embarrassing himself.

Dew had fallen on stage before, but Aether and Rain had been there to make the fall part of the show. Once he had broken his horn during a ritual and Aether had to reattach it. Photos of his shredded hand and bloodied guitar from the last tour were still circulating on social media. But today's incident finally got him.

Of course, Dew completed the ritual. Gritting his teeth behind his mask and carefully ignoring the throbbing pain in his knee, he played his parts, both in the songs and in the show. All this time Rain was giving him strange looks, and during the final bow Aurora took his hand too gently, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, but Dew pretended to be fine until he reached his hotel room and collapsed on the bed.

He healed quickly. Some painkillers to help him sleep, and he'd be fine in the morning. He'd be back to normal before the next ritual. If Aether had been here, he could have...

But Aether wasn't here. Dew took a deep breath and buried his face in the pillow. Five minutes. Five minutes to recover, and then he'd crawl to find painkillers in his travel bag. Aether had insisted that each of them took a personal first-aid kit with them, and had even packed the necessary medications himself.

Without him, everything on the tour was going downhill. That's why Dew's picks melted and his monitors burned; a part of his soul - if ghouls have souls, of course - stayed in Lincopia. A very important part, without which everything seemed wrong and meaningless. No matter how many postcards he sent, no matter how many late-night hours he spent on video calls, it still didn't come back. It only drew him home more.

Someone knocked on the door. Two short taps, then another and two more short taps - someone from his pack.

“I'm not here, I'm dead!” Dew growled. He did not want to get up. His knee responded to every movement with another flash of pain.

“Then we'll have to break down the door to get the body!” Rain's voice came from behind the door. “Papa will be mad!”

“At me or at having to pay for the door?”

His little brother laughed, but when he spoke again, his voice sounded serious, “I brought you some medicine. I can ask the receptionist for a spare key if you... if it hurts to walk.”

“Slip it under the door, I'll get it later," Dew sighed. There was a murmur of voices outside the door. Rain wasn't there alone.

For a moment, Dew felt a sense of déjà vu: here he was in his hotel room, holding a broken horn and wondering how he was going to explain it to Copia, and here were Aether and Cumulus knocking on his door with French fries and a solution.

“It won't fit," Rain said. Dew rolled onto his back and pressed his palms to his face.

“Give me a minute.”

He was so tired, he did not put his mask on. Of course, Papa would have been displeased if he'd known that Dew had been out in the hotel corridor with his face uncovered - what if laymen saw him? - but right now, Dew couldn’t find any fucks to give. Leaning against the wall, Dew waddled to the door and turned the knob, letting Rain into the room.

Dew didn't need to see his brother's face to know that he was worried. It was in the line of his shoulders, in the nervous fidgeting of his fingers. If Rain had a tail in human form, it would have whipped the air.

Rain slipped into the room and immediately offered his shoulder to Dew for support. Another short, slender figure, smelling of moss and sea salt, came through the open door. Phantom.

“What's he doing here?” Dew wondered. It sounded rude, but Phantom didn't seem offended.

“I'm the medicine," he explained with a smile.

Phantom was a strange creature, all sharp-toothed grins and water-viper grace, and his smell was different, not like other quintessence ghouls. His attempts to mimic the behavior of his packmates sometimes was unsettling. However, knowing the circumstances under which he had appeared in Lincopia, Papa's ghouls tried to ignore it as much as possible. Aether even took him under his wing and volunteered to teach him everything from using the Quintessence to playing the guitar.

Dew looked at him in disbelief. Phantom smiled even wider and nodded.

“I'll help you."

The two of them dragged Dew back to the bed. Dew grunted softly, more out of habit than anything else.

“You two should be resting, not fussing over me," he leaned back on the pillow and stretched out his sore leg. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”

“We always have to get up early," Rain settled down beside him. Phantom perched on the edge of the mattress. They both took off their masks, and without them, their glamor disappeared; Rain's tail immediately curled around Dew's healthy leg and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Phantom's thin but strong fingers felt the sore knee gently through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Sprained and bruised, some bad luck you have," Phantom shook his head sympathetically. “It won't heal overnight... But," he beamed, "I can help with that!”

“You should have asked Phantom to fix you right away," Rain reproached. Dew flattened his ears.

“It would take a long time," he muttered. “I didn't want to keep everyone waiting”.

“Not long," Phantom said, and Rain rolled his eyes.

“You could tell Papa, and he'd give another speech to the crowd. You know how much he likes it," the flat tip of Rain’s tail slapped Dew's thigh. “It'd be just enough time to get you in shape.”

“Now my little brother's lecturing me," Dew grumbled, receiving another hard slap.

“Someone has to look after you.”

“If you return limping to the Abbey, Aether will eat us alive," Phantom added.

Dew sighed. That was certainly a good point.

“Okay," he flicked his tail. “Patch me up, Doc.”

It seemed impossible to smile any wider, but Phantom managed it. His teeth were white and needle-sharp. Dew tensed involuntarily; Rain froze beside him, his tail curling tighter around Dew's leg. Phantom's ears flattened in embarrassment.

“Sorry. Can you... uh... take your pants off?

Dew raised his eyebrow.

“Sorry, but I'm already taken. Besides, Rain's here”.

Rain elbowed his side.

“Direct contact is more effective," Phantom explained, not the least bit embarrassed. “But we can try it anyway”.

He twisted his wrists, clenched and unclenched his fingers, stretched, and then gently touched Dew's knee.

Phantom's magic was strange too. Even through the fabric of his sweatpants, his touch made Dew’s skin prickle, like hundreds of tiny bubbles bursting at once. It felt like putting your hand in a sea wave and feeling the foam settling on your skin.

But Aether had trained him well: it took Phantom only a few seconds to subside the throbbing pain. Dew couldn't hold back a long sigh of relief. Rain chuckled softly and patted his shoulder.

“There you go!” Phantom straightened up with a proud smile. “Now try to bend and straighten your leg, okay?”

Gingerly, Dew obeyed. The swelling was completely gone, and he didn’t feel any pain when he bent his leg and straightened it again. He smiled and gave Phantom a thumbs up.

“Aether has trained you well," he said honestly, getting another toothy grin in return.

[thebowerypresents]

Willie Nelson Brings Outlaw Music Festival to Forest Hills Stadium

Outlaw Music Festival – Forest Hills Stadium – September 17, 2023

You don’t so much attend a Willie Nelson concert these days as you conform to its warmly understated, sometimes leisurely, sometimes-invigorating pace. Then again, he’s always seemed to have that pause-a-sec-and-listen effect: Whether 30 or 90, delivering sad-eyed, tear-in-beer weepers, tender folk, inspiring hymns or outlaw country rousers, he’s got you. Hearing him play, surrounded by his adoring band, still has that time-stopping quality, and Forest Hills Stadium was in thrall to one of American music’s true and unimpeachable legends on a rainy but warm Sunday evening. 

The Outlaw Music Festival, a going concern for a while now, is Willie’s eclectic seasonal caravan, loading up a sprawling six-hour bill with a range of artists that don’t sound quite like Nelson but are at the same time just right for a show like this, underscoring his own lineage and place in the history of many potent strains of Americana. As ever, he and his impressive band crowned the show with an hour-long set of their own, setting a brisk but not workmanlike pace through his classics (“Whiskey River,” “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” “On the Road Again,” “I Gotta Get Drunk,” “Always On My Mind,” “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die”) and those of friends and favorites, including Billie Joe Shaver’s “I Been to Georgia on a Fast Train,” “Stay a Little Longer” from the Bob Willis catalog, “Move It On Over” from Hank Williams, and the immortal “Georgia on My Mind.” Willie’s sung these songs thousands of times, but each one still felt like a warm embrace, even the wistful ones, and even the ones for which he wouldn’t need to do more than go through the motions but is just too classy for that.

About the bill: There were plenty of willing conspirators and indeed, half the fun of a tour like this is the cross-pollination and spirit of collaboration that happens throughout. No less than Norah Jones — a surprise guest, unannounced — low-key sat in on keyboards for most of the Willie set. (It wasn’t even clear it was her until she took a few backing vocals and then a full verse of “I Gotta Get Drunk.”) Harmonica ace Mickey Raphael — a stalwart of Nelson’s band — joined for sections of earlier sets from Los Lobos, the String Cheese Incident and Bob Weir & Wolf Bros using a range of harmonica modes, from sawing roadhouse blues to sweet-’n’-tender folk. And as ever, Willie made his customary invite to many of the musicians, including a game and all-smiles Weir, to join in for the rootsy, hymnal “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” and several more selections, hootenanny-ing up the stage to close the night.

Weir’s Wolf Bros — one of the most interesting post–Grateful Dead bands and as oddly compelling a capture of Weir’s Weir-ness as any other group he’s been part of — got about 90 minutes to roam as the night’s coheadliner and more than made the most of it. The core trio of Weir, Don Was and Jay Lane has mushroomed on the road into a full ensemble, including Weir’s longtime swingman Jeff Chimenti on keys and ace pedal steel from Barry Sless, plus a sturdy horns-and-strings section called the Wolfpack. That bigness was well used here: “Jack Straw,” “Estimated Prophet” (neatly segued into its forever companion, “Eyes of the World,” which itself neatly segued into Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On”), the Sunday-special “Samson & Delilah” and a rollicking “Turn On Your Lovelight” were Grateful Dead staples all getting jammy workouts.

Earlier came a potent set from jam-bluegrass stalwarts the String Cheese Incident, somehow now approaching their own 30th anniversary. And earlier still came the mighty Los Lobos — themselves, whoa, 50 years along! — who played a ripsnorting 45-minute frame full of cumbia and full-boogie rockers, including the beloved “Georgia Slop.” 30 years? 50 years? So much beautiful longevity here, but the bar appears to be 90 years, gang. —Chad Berndtson | @Cberndtson

Photos courtesy of Silvia Saponaro | @Silvia_Saponaro

[spicyliumang]

Came up with an Enyao headcanon/ scenario that has been looming on my mind 4 days!!

Enya gets a full-ride scholarship to go to an art school to get her Fashion degree, but it's in Sotenbori, and Zhao and Enya's relationship is temporarily long distant (kinda) :') (some sfw and nsfw headcanons are somewhat under the cut 😭)

SCENARIO:

Enya is working at the Rose Blossom when one of the customers she's serving notices her and requests her for the night and ends up having an in-depth conversation and ends up talking about Enya's aspirations

After the conversation and learning about Enya's knowledge of fashion, the customer tells her he has connections at the art school and would pull strings to get her a full ride and she'd have her degree in six months if she started now. He lets her know to visit the campus the next day to apply and prep for onboarding and that's when he mentions it's in Sotenbori :')

Enya was happy at first but became doubtful given it would mean she'll be apart from Zhao and considered declining. The man told her to sleep on it and visit tomorrow if she was interested

Zhao pick her up from work and noticed she looked troubled and asked what was wrong when she hesitantly told him about the opportunity and considered declining when he immediately stopped her and told her to take the opportunity

Enya was so worried about how their relationship will go, but Zhao mentioned how she should follow through with what she wanted since it was her passion and reassured her they'd make it work and did not have any issues visiting her and letting her know she could visit on weekends too

Enya eventually tells the gang and ends up taking an impromptu trip to Sotenbori with them for the weekend to support her

The first two days everyone went sightseeing and hanging out until the last day when everyone helped Enya gather supplies for her dorm room and classes

Everyone followed her through the tour all the way up to the point she was given her dorm room key where she met her roommate, Yumi.

Everyone got acquainted with her and shamelessly Adachi tries to flirt with her 😭 until Saeko scolded him

Zhao made food for everyone including Yumi to celebrate Enya's new beginnings and coming closer to her life goals

As the night ended and everyone headed back, Enya became emotional knowing she won't be with Zhao and will sleep alone ( She has severe abandonment issues :') ) Zhao reassured her that she can do it and encouraged her as much as he could

Some days later Enya finds herself having a hard time finding her classes and fitting in (The people in Sotenbori are much meaner 😭) And finds herself being bullied by a clique of girls who are in her class and sabotaging her first project. She complained to the dean about the incident, but because one of the girl's fathers is the one who helps fund the college, it was swept under the rug. She trudged back to her room hoping to vent to her roommate but she was already out for the day

Enya calls Zhao sobbing and practically having a panic attack saying it was a mistake and she didn't want to stay anymore and wanted to go back to Ijincho. Before Zhao was able to get a word in, she mentioned that she had to go and her next class was starting in a few minutes

At the end of her last class of the day, Enya heads back to her dorm and just plops on the bed with no interest to eat or anything

Zhao comes in the middle of the night to see her with Yakisoba and Boba tea to cheer her up and comforts her letting her know that he's there for her, and (jokingly) asked if she wanted them to be "dealt with" and would happily give her father some "encouragement" to stop the girls from harassing Enya, but she declines, knowing it would make her no better than the girls if she did that

Zhao encouraged her to see through her goals especially since this was something she really wanted to do and if they give her any more problems to let him know and both he and Han will make "arrangements" to fix the issue

Enya decides to continue with Zhao's support despite the girls trying to give her trouble

HEADCANONS

SFW:

Enya would video call every day and chat with him for hours as he tell her about the happenings with the gang while she was away and some of the interesting encounters he has had while cooking at You Tian including having to shoo a man who came in with only a diaper on

Enya would binge-watch movies with Zhao via video call or visit her dorm

Some days he'd sit on a call with her as she rants about her classes and the different things she learned during her lectures and mentioned how Yumi was eyeing Han the second he walked in and asked her if he was single😭

Sometimes they'd accidentally fall asleep on call after binge-watching too late

During the week he'd visit and bring her any new dishes he has made wanting to get her input or sometimes just bringing her something small like a tiny panda plush and some sweets while he was there

She bought a switch of her own and plays with Zhao and the gang some nights while away

Once out of the week when she's off sometimes she'd pick up a shift or two at the Rose Blossom when she can for extra cash

Enya made a comment about one of the male students eying her and even tried to engage in conversation quite obviously flirting and he ✨jokingly✨ threatened about feeding the guy to the tiger 😭💀💀 this also led to more visits and even showing more PDA than usual when he finally had the pleasure to meet the man eyeing Enya

NSFW:

The distance apart starts to get to them both in more ways than one so those video calls soon escalate to something else when Yumi is away and Enya is alone

LOOOTS of phone sex. Like a lot 😭

Zhao would ask Enya to send him nudes from time to time or she'd do it spontaneously just to tease him and he would whine about how she's being cruel because he's not there with her at the moment which results in a few giggles from Enya 🤭💙

Enya was feeling bold and was happy to video chat while she was in the shower to "give him a show 🤭"

Zhao is usually very level-headed when it comes to the distance not wanting to show any ounce of doubt that would make Enya want to drop out, but their time apart despite seeing each other often doesn't lead to much time for sex usually Yumi is in the room with her. One day he rents a hotel and picks her up impromptu and took her out. most of the trip hastily found himself all over her before he could even close the hotel room door. He comes faster than he ever has and complained his hand wasn't enough and the idea of any man eyeing her while he's not there really got to him and wanted to make sure everyone knew that she was his

Enya was sore for a few days 😭 Zhao felt kinda bad and got her taro bubble tea to make up for it :')

When Yumi isn't there and Zhao visits they'd usually take advantage of the "alone time" they have which usually results in quickies. 🤭

that's all I got for now 😭

[xtruss]

Tribal Headhunters On Coney Island? Author Revisits Disturbing American Tale! New Book Examines Troubled History of Filipino Tribe Brought To America In 1905.

— Published: October 28, 2014 | By Linda Qiu | Friday May 31, 2024

These Igorrotes were paid $15 a month to demonstrate their culture and customs at an amusement park on Coney Island in 1905. Photograph Courtesy of Claire Prentice

Transplanted from the Philippines to New York's famous Coney Island Amusement Park in 1905, a band of Igorrote (Igorot) Headhunters went on to tour the United States, performing mock tribal ceremonies and consuming dog meat for millions of curious and horrified Americans.

But, once a national sensation, the Igorrotes—and the doctor arrested for exploiting them—have been largely forgotten, writes Journalist Claire Prentice in her new book, The Lost Tribe of Coney Island: Headhunters, Luna Park, and the Man Who Pulled Off the Spectacle of the Century.

National Geographic recently discussed with Prentice how she pieced together the group's turn-of-the-century odyssey and how some of the forces that brought the Igorrotes to America and obscured the truth about them may still be in play today.

How did you discover the story of the Igorrotes?

I had been living in New York and working as a journalist. I had a fascination with 1900s Coney Island and took trips there often. One day, I saw these pictures of the Igorrotes tattooed, in G-strings and, well, not very much else. The energy of the photos drew me in and captivated me.

I researched through big institutions like the National Archives [and] the National Library of the Philippines, and smaller places like the Bontoc Municipal Library in the Philippines's Mountain Province. I found declassified [U.S.] government files, vital records, and newspaper articles that hadn't been read for a hundred years. So I read about the terrible things these people suffered at the hands of a man they had trusted, someone who they thought was a protector in a strange land, and who had treated them abominably.

So let's talk about the man who brought them here. Who was Dr. Truman Hunt?

Truman Hunt went to the Philippines at the outbreak of the 1898 Spanish-American War. He was trained as a medical doctor, and he stayed on in the country after the war ended. He was later made lieutenant governor of Bontoc, where the Igorrotes lived, and got to know them well.

In 1904, the American government spent $1.5 million taking 1,300 Filipinos from a dozen different tribes to the St. Louis Exposition as part of a scheme intended to drum up widespread popular support for America's policies in the Philippines by demonstrating that the people of the islands were far from ready for self-government. Truman Hunt was made the manager of the Igorrote Village, which drew the largest crowds of all in the Philippine [part of the fair].

The enormous popularity of the Igorrotes gave Hunt the idea to return to Bontoc and gather another Igorrote group. He offered $15 a month to each Igorrote who volunteered to go to America with him and put on a show of their culture and customs. He planned to begin their tour at Coney Island and then move on to other amusement parks across the country.

Visitors observe the Igorrotes living at Coney Island in 1905. Photograph Courtesy of Claire Prentice

You write that Truman Hunt was the mouthpiece for Igorrotes and the press just reprinted a lot of his tales. How difficult was it to find out what really happened?

To begin with, as a journalist, I didn't entirely swallow the news stories, though Hunt knew how to spin a story. By the time I got the key bits of the story and read the government files about his wrongdoings, it was clear just how distorted the picture was and how spun it really was.

Some of the "factual" stuff was entirely made up. In the newspapers, Truman talks about one particular incident: a huge fight between the Igorrotes and the white residents of Coney Island that ends up with the two groups fighting and grabbing pitchforks. He presents this whole scene of a savage battle, and it was entirely made up. In another one, he set up the theft of a dog—he had someone bring in a dog, unleash it, and told the Igorrotes to chase it. But the newspapers printed it as the Igorrotes were savage and wanted to steal this dog.

This was a time when human zoos were something of a trend. Ethnic peoples were exhibited in similar spectacles from Paris to Tokyo. What was special about the Igorrotes?

They were hardly in clothes. Their bodies had tattoos all over them. They had hunted heads in their home—and the dogs. Dogs were brought from the New York pound, chopped up, and put in a pot, and then people watched the Igorrotes eat the stew. This behavior scandalized Americans but also captured their imagination.

But the zoo quickly came to be seen as shameful, and something Americans didn't want to remember, that people were exhibited in this manner, so it was forgotten. There were other examples where people were coerced, cultures were distorted, but in this case, the U.S. government had given permission to exploit these people.They were directly involved.

Igorrote men, like these photographed in 1912, often had multiple tattoos and wore little clothing. Photograph Courtesy of Claire Prentice

How did the presence of America in the Philippines in the 1900s factor into the Igorrotes' situation?

The U.S. backed the exhibition as a way to support their political goal of maintaining control over Philippine territory, by demonstrating that the Philippine people were far from ready for self-government.

Coverage of the Igorrotes was in the newspapers, daily. People were talking about it. It was very controversial and very topical, and people were reading about and had an interest in it. The fact that they were from the Philippines was definitely another layer of attraction.

But I don't think Truman Hunt was trying to champion that cause. He was doing this out of his own interests. He was very charming, very opportunistic.

In your epigraph, Hunt is quoted in a newspaper saying, "I was healer of their bodies, father confessor of all their woes and troubles, and the final arbiter in all disputed questions," yet he basically put the Igorrotes in the zoos. Do you think he cared for these people?

That's something I thought long and hard about. Before he brought them to America, he did volunteer to work in a cholera hospital in Luzon. He genuinely did risk his life for his Filipino patients. The Truman Hunt at the end of the book wouldn't have done that. I think he became very, very badly corrupted. They were objectified so much, gawked at daily, that I think he came to regard them distantly and as a commodity.

The question of authenticity comes up a lot in the book—the authenticity of the record as well as the authenticity of the display of the Igorrotes themselves.

I don't think the display can really be considered authentic. The traditional ceremonies performed before head hunts and the other tribal dances—those were generally rare in real Igorrote life. Same with the eating of dogs. These things were ceremonial and so definitely didn't occur every day. But Truman wasn't bothered by authenticity. They were there to add a sense of drama to the show.

It seems abominable to us now that people were looking at these human zoos. But back then people went to ‘attractions’ like the Igorrote Village in the same way that they go to the movies today. They took their families. At the time it was mainstream entertainment.

An Igorrote potter is shown surrounded by her clay wares and other tribe members in 1912. Photograph Courtesy of Claire Prentice

You write that these zoos fulfilled a need for sensation and an ethnological obsession. Those needs don't seem unique to the 1900s. I kept thinking about reality television.

We have certainly a variation on that today, [with] wealthy Western tourists traveling to see authentic shows of ethnic peoples in Africa and Asia. It's a commodity. And absolutely, some of the TV shows today—you know, Beauty and the Beast types—are just awful. It's obviously deep within human beings to want to look at people different from themselves. That's just a fact.

There is a shred of justice administered at the end of the book. Truman Hunt is arrested. How did that happen?

The U.S. government's Bureau of Insular Affairs, which [was] part of the War Department, received a tip that Hunt was not taking adequate care of the Igorrotes. There were other rumors that he had stolen their wages and that two men in the group had died on the road and that he had failed to have their bodies buried.

The government sent an agent to investigate the claims, and Hunt went on the run, taking a group of Igorrotes with him. The Pinkerton Detective Agency was hired to help track him down. Eventually, he was accused of embezzling around $10,000 in wages from the Igorrotes and of using physical force to steal hundreds of dollars more that they had earned selling handmade souvenirs.

Finally, after a manhunt across the U.S. and Canada, the government arrested him in October 1906. He was sentenced to 18 months in the workhouse after an incredible trial in Memphis.

Four Igorrote girls pose for a hand-tinted portrait in Luzon, Philippines, in 1913. Photograph Courtesy of Claire Prentice

After Truman Hunt's arrest, what happened to the Igorrotes?

In late July 1906, a couple of months after their contracts with Hunt expired, the government stepped in and sent home all of the Filipinos—except five who stayed on as witnesses in Hunt's trial. The court cases dragged on. Five Filipino witnesses were kept in America until March 1907. On March 20, they too returned to the Philippines.

It has been difficult to discover a great deal about their lives after they returned to the Philippines because a huge volume of the Philippines's vital records were destroyed during WWII. I have pieced together what I have been able to find and have included this in the Afterword. I hope that this book will lead to further discoveries about their later lives.

— This interview has been edited and condensed.

[whiteshipnightjar]

Joanna Newsom chalk art 🧑‍🎨: Anna Michal

[heart0fwhite]

Joanna Newsom trans(cending)itioning from harp to piano

[look-and-despair]

The Strings/Keys Incident Tour | Dresses

[doesnotsvffice]

Missing Joanna hours

[turtleneckchain]

joanna newsom at the thalia hall (chicago, 10/8)

[soft-as-sawdust-and-chalk]

joanna was AMAZINGLY beautiful last night. she just keeps serving. thank you, joanna 😭😭😭🥰

(📸 jonbauer on instagram)

p.s. i know ppl gonna post these pics a lot but let's agree these are AMAZING

[madeofitzits]

I wonder if Andy's going to have to clear out some of his (four) outfits to make room for Joanna's new custom Rodarte collection?!

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?’ You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

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