#vintage snowflake glass

[floydsmuse]

All I want for Christmas is you

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f! reader (no y/n)

Description: During one snowy December night, Rhett gets his hands on the record player and invites you to dance with him… (wc 1.2k)

Warnings: None! It’s just fluff ✨

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a/n: Happy holidays lovelies :). This is my little submission for @lewmagoo ‘s Christmas celebration ! This is one of my favorite Christmas songs of all time and it just reminded me of Rhett :,) so I knew I had to include it into this fic. I really hope you enjoy this! <3

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You and Rhett had finally finished up on your last minute Christmas shopping. Having purchased all of your gifts for each member of your families and booking it out of the store before the anticipated snow storm could occur and become too heavy to bear was certainly a win win.

As you were driving back home, little flurries began to liter out of the sky and started to stick to the windows of Rhett’s truck. You reached out your hand to lightly trace a path to follow each snowflake that would stick to the glass and admire it’s beauty, each one appearing a little bit different from the other.

Rhett’s eyes remained on the road, but he couldn’t help but shoot a glance at you through his peripheral and smile to himself. He just knew how much you loved this time of year and since he’d met you, he developed a new found appreciation for the holidays too. God was he lucky to have someone like you in his life, he thought quietly to himself. His big hand reaches over to engulf your thigh, giving it a loving squeeze and causing a warmth ness to shoot up through your entire body. You had a really good feeling about this upcoming Christmas, you were sure it was going to be one for the books.

~

You two arrive back at your shared home, as the snow continued to creep down from the sky. You both hop out of the truck, the frigid air hitting you like a ton of bricks and causing you to shiver involuntarily. With bags of gifts in hand, you quickly head inside and are immediately hit with this instant cozy feeling. Rhett moves to take his bags and grabs yours too, putting them in the little room next to the kitchen. You made your way over to the tree, turning on its lights and basking in all of its glory.

You could hear Rhett’s heavy footsteps approaching the den now, as you took to lighting a few of your holiday candles and switching on any additional holiday decor. This was your first official Christmas in your new home and things were really starting to come together.

You feel Rhett’s arms wrap around your waist and his head dips down, nuzzling his nose into the part of your neck where it meets your shoulder. The feeling of his scruff against your skin makes you fidget slightly and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle at the tickly feeling. Rhett was already well aware that you’d get like this when you felt the familiar scratchy little hairs on his chin and upper lip, but that didn’t make him move from his place. You opted to just lean your head further into him and just enjoy the intimate closeness. You two stayed like this in an embrace for a few minutes, just gazing up at the tree and taking in the festive ambiance. You felt Rhett suddenly pull away from you and his body heat that just radiates off of him vanished from your grasp.

“Where do you think you’re going mister?” You playfully question Rhett, as he starts moving over to the other side of the room to where his vintage record player lies. You look at him quizzically, as he picks up one of the vinyls on the nearby shelf and places the disk down onto the platter of the record player.

Your perk up on at the song that begins to play, it being All I want for Christmas is you by Vince Vance & the Valiants. You knew that Rhett loved this song and you would often hear him humming it to himself while working on little projects around the house or even when he’d be whipping up the two of you some breakfast in the morning. He starts making slow strides back to you and reaches out his hand for you to grab.

“Dance with me darlin,” he lets out. Wiggling his eyebrows, as a subtle smirk appears onto his face.

You look up at him in pure amusement and don’t waste another second, gladly accepting his hand in yours and being guided to connect against his chest.

Rhett begins to gently sway you back and forth. His body naturally moves to the rhythm of the song and his head begins to ever so lightly bop to its beat. You find your rhythm too and in time, you both were moving in sync. You two had started to make your way over to the other side of the den, being very cautious of bumping into any furniture in your wake. You press your head against Rhett’s chest and he holds you even closer to him, if that was even remotely possible.

As you are listening to the beat of Rhett’s heart and the sound of the song playing, you hear Rhett start to sing soundly to you in this husky drawl,

You are the angel atop my tree, you are my dream come true…

Your head shoots up. you are about to compliment his voice, but Rhett’s quick to dip you, causing you to let out a squeal at the sudden action. Once you return upright, he spins you around, causing you to be slightly dizzy and your hair falls messily in front of your face. You take a moment to compose yourself and look back up at him absolutely lovesick and in pure disbelief,

“Rhett where have you been hiding that voice of yours?! you really got it all going on huh?” You playfully quipped at him.

He looked down sheepishly at that, lowering his head and biting his bottom lip, trying not to smile too big at your words. You could see an evident blush creep onto his cheeks.

“I just love this song and I wanted to serenade my baby on this fine December eve.” Rhett shot back at you in a playful and flirty tone.

Now you were the one blushing. Rhett lifts his head up, looking at you with so much love and adoration. He breaks into song once again, reciting,

Santa can’t bring me what I need, cause all I want for Christmas is you.

Rhett now reverts his eyes down to your lips and then back up to meet your eyes. Your breath hitches in your throat and the next thing you knew, his lips were being melded onto yours. It wasn’t a heated kiss by any means, but it was passionate & it made you feel all bubbly inside.

You both pull away, needing to take a second to catch your breaths. The music is slowly starting to fade out, and the next song begins to play.

You find yourself pulling away from him slightly, but Rhett’s quick to pull you back into his chest. Wrapping his arms around you yet again,

“I’m not done serenadin’ ya darlin.’ You’re in for a real treat.” He snickers and you couldn’t stop the chuckle that was just destined to leave your lips. You leaned the side of your head against his shoulder, hugging back into him. you close your eyes to fully savor this moment in time, as Rhett continues to sway you back and forth into the magical wintery night.

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#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett x reader #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott outer range #rhett outer range #outer range #outer range fanfic #outer range fic #rhett abbott fanfic #lewis pullman #floydsmuse #a lew magoo christmas

[adore-laur]

AULD LANG SYNE

— gold rush christmas flashbacks (read parts 1-4 first)⏳

❅ ❅ ❅

How's one to know if love is everlasting?  

Harry used to prioritize the notion with you, sealing the promise with a glistening diamond ring on your finger because that's what love is, right? Marrying the one person you can't live without. He vowed to be eternally yours, making up for lost time with secret oaths of pleasure and intimate words that unfurled from his tongue like the petals of a rose. 

Each garland of his ivy intertwined perfectly with yours, the spark of young love nurturing every vine that started to wilt from the first dusting of snowfall.

Yet that light soon eclipsed with a shadow of neglect. 

The last glimpse of radiance Harry witnessed was one he took for granted. You were right there, shining just for him, but the moment burned out right beneath his fingertips. 

He remembers getting lost in the cadence of your voice and the familiarity of your presence. Blue lights had danced over your figure as you stood on your tiptoes and turned the house into a winter wonderland, a certain glow to your skin that only he knew the cause of.

                              ❅ Time Gone By ❅ 

Harry stopped you from gracing around the room like an angel on ice skates by trapping you in a one-armed hug from behind, a champagne flute of vintage Dom Pérignon in his hand. Your delicate fingers reached up to hook a shiny ornament on one of the tree's upper branches, right where they started to narrow. It made him realize it had been far too long since he'd been home as he took in the evergreen standing tall and proud before him. 

Cheek to cheek, Harry swayed your frame to the faint Christmas music playing in the background. He watched your every move, from how you resettled the ornament an inch over because you were a perfectionist to how you leaned back into his chest to get a better look at your work. He wanted to put you in his pocket like a plucked primrose and take you everywhere with him. 

"How many more..." Your voice faded as your spirited eyes scanned the living room. You released yourself from his hold when you spotted the box of ornaments, much to his reluctance. 

Harry sauntered over to the fireplace while taking a sip of his drink. After setting his glass down, he grabbed the fire poker and opened the chain mail curtain to shift the logs around. The flames instantly grew stronger, the crackling louder as orange embers tried and failed to escape. They seemed to know there could only be one clinquant brilliance in the room. 

Magnetizing admiration guided his gaze to you once again as he sat down and folded his legs on the carpet. Once he was comfortable, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of champagne on the hearth and poured more of the effervescent liquid into his glass. The roaring fire heated his back as he coated his tongue with refined notes of ripe fruit and vanilla. Moonlight gleamed through the window and reflected off the many decorations he had helped place in every crevice of the house. The sweet smell of sugar cookies straight out of the oven made his stomach rumble with delight.

Then there was you, the only thing he could truly focus on for longer than a minute.

With your hair pinned back with silver snowflake clips, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. A halting feeling of falling in love all over again nestled into his heart, and you didn't even have to say a single word. 

"Why are you staring at me?" 

Harry almost laughed at your question. How could he not stare at you? You were made for him. 

Smirking over the rim of his glass, he said, "I have a complaint," then took a quick sip and stood. 

You turned back to the tree, pensively looking it up and down. "Do you not approve of my decorating?" 

"You're doing a wonderful job, baby." He emptied his hand and beckoned you toward him. "Come here. Take a break for a little bit." 

You shyly shrugged your shoulder up to your cheek, his favorite habit of yours, and then made your way to him. You wrapped both arms around his waist, then rested your chin on his chest with raised eyebrows in silent questioning. 

"My complaint," he said lowly while smoothing his thumb over your temple that had somehow collected glitter, "is that I can't see the bump when you wear sweaters." 

The tightening of your hold warmed him up, along with the knitted material loosely draped over your upper half. "It's too cold to wear anything else," you replied, smiling knowingly. 

Reaching around your waist, Harry bunched the material of your sweater behind your back and tugged on it until it tightened around the small, growing curve of your stomach. "There," he whispered satisfactorily, grinning and glancing up at you with a boyish glint in his eyes.

You just scoffed amusedly and swatted his hands away before unraveling yourself from him to continue hanging the last of the ornaments. Two glass spheres dusted with lines of gold glitter were still waiting to be put on the tree with your strategic placement. Blue twinkling lights still needed to be strung and weaved around the protruding branches. The tinsel garland adorned with sparkling leaves and flowers still needed to be embellished on the staircase's banister. Harry, however, thought all those things could wait. He wanted his wife's undivided attention. 

One of the cardboard boxes contained mistletoe, so he searched through them while he hummed along to Eartha Kitt's rich, sensual voice. After noisily sifting through miscellaneous Christmas items, he finally found the artificial red berry attached to an even more artificial plant. While your back was turned, he plucked it out and quietly walked toward you, turning up the volume of "Santa Baby" with the remote on his way over. 

"Hey," he said, tickling the nape of your neck with the mistletoe.

You squealed and damn near elbowed him in the stomach. "Stop! You're supposed to be helping me." 

"We have all night to do this." 

"There's only a few more hours until Christmas. We should have done this weeks ago." 

Harry's warm hands traveled under your sweater and splayed over your first-trimester bump. It wasn't fully rounded out, yet it was still a bump, and he loved it dearly, even if a baby hadn't meant to happen so soon. "We've been worried about other things, yeah?" he murmured secretively, even though no one was around to eavesdrop. 

"Yeah," you replied. 

"But just think… this time next year, we'll be spending Christmas together as a family of three." 

"When are we going to tell people? I won't be able to hide it for much longer." 

The anxiousness on your face worried him. He knew that sooner or later, the ravenous public would find out. It was only a matter of time before the vultures came circling, and his pledge of protection would again be at risk. 

"Let's talk about it later," he dismissed, rubbing a circle around your belly before retreating his tender touch and spinning you around. Once you were facing him, he asked, "Can I have a kiss?" 

"You're trying to distract me." 

"Just one kiss. Pretty please."

You trailed your fingers down his arm. "Begging gets you nowhere."

He mockingly grumbled an echo of what you said and then bent down slightly to wrap a strong arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you as you scrambled to hook your pajama-clad legs around him. 

"I want to dance with you," he said, staring at your glowing cheeks. I beg of you." 

"Put me down, then." 

"What kind of dance do you fancy? Polka? Waltz? Ballroom tango?" 

You laughed as Harry set you back on the floor. "Remember when you danced the polka with my grandma at our wedding?" 

"I couldn't keep up with her!" he replied humorously, loving how your eyes reacted by sparkling. "Had me tripping over my feet and everything." 

There was a beautiful mixture of yours and his laugh at the memory, and amid the mirth, Harry grabbed your right hand with his and held it against his chest while his other rested on the small of your back. It became a gentle sway to "Silver and Gold" with the occasional twirl and romantic dip, the two of you spinning around in a personal snow globe. He touched his forehead to yours, lazily smiling down at your lips, then nudged your nose with his before tilting his head to kiss you nice and slow. Lips that tasted like sugar melted into his, soft and addictive. His senses were heightened by the champagne he drank. His feet stopped moving as he got lost in the moment, entirely focused on how your kisses couldn't seem to catch up with his. The breathless sounds you released, and the wet pops of your lips separating made him fall under your enchanting spell. 

"Your phone," you mumbled through lazy kisses. 

"Hmm?" Harry hummed distractedly, kissing you again before opening his eyes and licking his swollen lips. 

"I think your phone is ringing," you said more clearly, pulling away. 

He processed the default ringtone and sincerely hoped it was just his mother wishing him a Merry Christmas from across the pond. Sighing, he unlaced your fingers with his and gave the back of your hand a semi-comforting pat before walking over to his vibrating phone on the hearth. He had seen the disappointed look on your face; it pained him every time. Deep down, he knew who might really be calling him. 

The assumption proved to be correct when he checked the screen. The familiar number was work-related. He answered the call with a guilty scratch behind his head and left you in the living room. 

How easy it could have been to just ignore it, but second nature had a poisonous grasp around his heart. 

❅ ❅ ❅ 

How's one to know when the first crack in the glass will shatter into a million fragments of love astray? 

A capricious shift in your husband's demeanor created the first sign of rupture. Pixelated countenances of despondency and physical guises of weariness were little fissures that shaped a shard so minimal that you could have brushed it aside if not for the inescapable ache in your chest that mercilessly came around at nightfall like clockwork. 

The withering love between you and him was a ticking time bomb made of glass left to be disarmed by whoever was audacious enough to get their hands near the lethal sparks. 

Yet the fuse burnt out quicker than expected. 

That fateful detonation happened at midnight in winter. Harry was the culprit, and he never realized it until his unspoken fear blew up in his face. 

You remember it all too well. The stillness was so deafening in your empty home, barren winter seeping through the walls and icing over a bed of primroses to paralyze them from growing further. 

                             ❅ Time Gone By ❅

A pathetic excuse of a Christmas tree in the corner was the only provider of light in the otherwise caliginous bedroom. Tucked and sat in the opposite corner, you brought your knees to your chest and let your husband's slurred greeting on the phone fill the lonesome silence. It was better than nothing, you supposed. 

The first question you asked him was a straight nosedive toward the forthcoming bone crush. "Have you been drinking?" 

Harry sniffed and replied, "Whiskey, yeah." 

You shook off his lethargic tone and plastered on a smile. "Must be nice." 

"Pour yourself a glass," he said, his voice sounding far away. You assumed you were on speaker. "It's the holidays, innit?" 

"Can't. I need to pump later." 

"Oh. That's right." A strange lull of silence passed. "How is she, by the way?" 

Brass-knuckled fists squeezed your heart when you told him, "She misses you a lot." 

It was an unequivocal lie. You weren't sure if she would even remember him when he eventually came home. In the year since her impromptu arrival, her own dad had been across the world more than he'd been at the house in Nashville. 

"I'll be home at the end of January," Harry assured you. I just have a few more promo appearances that I need to make." 

He didn't need to, did he? With a snap of his fingers and his gift of persuasion, it shouldn't have been that hard to fly back to his family when needed. You wondered if he heard himself, ignorant of the fact that his selfish words pierced you as a mother doing everything on her own. Surely, he felt guilty, but he was an expert at shrouding the parasite. 

"Why can't you cancel everything and stay with us for the holidays?" you asked, letting out a muted laugh. 

Through a phone call with no way to see your face, Harry didn't quite catch your attempt at being humorous. "You know the answer to that," he answered accusatorially. 

"No, I really don't." The mercurial shift in moods with him was something you'd gotten used to. "Tomorrow is Christmas, and you're in Los Angeles. Not with your family. It doesn't make sense to me." 

"Are we arguing right now?" he asked through a yawn. "I'm too tired to argue, love."

Patience wearing thin, you took a brutal dig at his buried flaws. "No, you're too drunk to understand how miserable this has been for me. God forbid that I want you home with our baby." 

Harry scoffed and then dared to bitterly laugh. "Don't give me that petty shit, all right? You know my job, and you know my schedule. It's never changed." 

"It should change now that you're a dad, don't you think?"

"Why do we always end up fighting when I call you? I've got better things I could be doing." 

Cruel. Harry could be so casually cruel when drinking. On the last phone call, his tongue, as dangerous as a deadly weapon, had been laced with Hennessy and Coke. 

"Our daughter's first Christmas, and you aren't here," you thought aloud while shaking your head slowly. The worst type of tears, ones stemming from frustration, prickled behind your eyes. 

"You're being mean," Harry said quietly, every outside noise from his end being cut off except for his breathy voice, sounding like a gust of wind had taken it and carried it to you. His phone was now held up to his ear.

You stood your ground. "I think I'm being fair. I'm not asking much from you." 

"Fuck's sake," he muttered before clearing his throat. "I can't do two things at once."

His words were a poison-soaked dagger to your flesh, cutting right to the bone and unleashing blood of vulnerability and hurt from the man who had once vowed to never cause you such harm. 

Being a husband and a dad—he, of all people, should have been able to balance those two responsibilities with no problem. Where was his sudden spitefulness coming from? 

You let out a morose noise of disbelief and confessed, "I hate you sometimes." 

Harry sighed. "I love you," he said with that goddamned soft voice of his, a blatant attempt to veer away from the issue at hand. 

Your emotions finally broke through, the lump in your throat growing until it started to ache. Looking down at the silver wedding ring on your finger, you wondered if he put it there just to lock you in. Little did he know that you were about to go down the agonizing route to get the key. 

"Right now," you said shakily, "it feels like you don't give a fuck about me or our daughter." 

He groaned, and you could picture him running a heavy palm down his flushed face. "We were having an innocent conversation, honey. Why do you always get pissed at me?" 

A blazing assumption in the dark, considering he was the one who started it. He had lit the fuse with a single spark, and now time was ticking. 

Who would pass the bomb over to whom? 

Whose tears would douse the flare? 

Which one of you was capable, and which was a coward? 

"I get pissed because I wonder why I ever married you," you admitted, trying not to choke on affliction. "I wonder why I ever had a child with you. Why do I stay with you when you treat our family like an afterthought?" 

"You're making me out to be a monster," Harry said with a twinge of helplessness. "I love you, okay? I would die for you both." 

"You barely see us, so I doubt that." 

"Christ, why do you say things like that?" 

Running your fingertips across the carpet to seek comfort, you replied, "It's how I feel, Harry. It's how I've felt for the past year." 

"Then fuckin' leave since I make you so miserable!".

Tick. 

The fragile bomb was in your hands.

Tick. 

There were only seconds left to make a decision. 

Tick. 

You passed it over to him with a detonating question. 

"Do you give me permission?" 

A deathly silence.

"I'll leave," you continued, your ears ringing. "You don't seem to mind. I'll talk with a lawyer, and we can settle a divorce." 

Boom.

Harry inhaled sharply through his nose. "Don't even think about doing that." 

"You just told me to leave!" you shouted. 

"No, hey." His breathing was becoming shallow, and his voice was desperate. "Hey, listen to me. I'll come home. Just give me another month, and I'll be there. I won't leave again. I promise you that." 

This was different from what you had wanted. Married life with him was supposed to have been blissful. Parenthood was supposed to have been alongside him. The room spun around you as the clock ticked with each passing second. It wouldn't change anything. Might as well set it in stone and float it down the river. 

"I don't believe you. I want a divorce." 

"Baby, please. Look, can you video call me? Let me see you." 

You screwed your face up and rested your pounding head against the wall. "I can't look at you right now." 

"I'd like you to look at me when you say you want a divorce, yeah?" He was on fire from the explosion. "God, I'll get on a plane right now, okay? Please." 

He was only willing to do what you asked when he needed to save himself. It was never for you. 

"My decision is final," you told him. "I can't be in this one-sided relationship. All I need is for you to be a dad and a husband. Here, with us. Not thousands of miles away." 

"I'll come home. Let me... shit, let me find my laptop, and I'll book a flight." 

"Well, when you come home, your things will be packed by the front door." 

"Stop," he whispered painfully. 

"Just listen to me, Harry!" you yelled, finally losing your patience. Taking a deep breath, you lowered your voice and continued, "If you love me, you'll let me leave. It's what's best for us." 

"You're my wife." Then, show some compassion. "Do you hear me?" Barely. "You can't just leave like this." Yes, you could. "I'll lose my mind." 

Your mind was made up. 

"I'm gonna hang up, okay?" 

"No, we're going to talk—" 

"When I hang up, I need you to breathe," you interrupted gently. "I need you to stay where you are. I need you to not do anything stupid." 

"You're drunk too, right?" Harry said. "We're both drunk, and we'll forget we had this conversation." You heard a mattress creak and then a slight stumbling of feet. "Let's go to bed, sweetheart. Tomorrow is Christmas. I'll call first thing in the morning." 

"Okay. Bye, Harry." You knew you wouldn't answer.

"Did you get my gifts in the mail? I spoiled you two so much." You didn't like how his breathing had gotten faster. "Hey, can you give her a kiss goodnight for me? Please?" 

"I will." It was the least you could do. "Goodbye, Harry." 

"No, baby, stay on the phone. I love you." 

You swallowed down the last shred of your dignity and pulled the phone away from your ear, telling him to breathe one last time before ending the call. 

All at once, the four walls of your bedroom caved in on you, and the feeling of suffocation began. The ground ate you alive as you sunk down into a fetal position and cried out into the wool carpet until it burned your cheeks. You could blame the drink in Harry's hand all you wanted, but you knew his integrity had fallen short lately. He couldn't be what you needed, so why stay and suffer in a situation so futile? 

A sharp wail suddenly pierced through the wall behind you. Moving your teary eyes to blearily gaze at the clock, you saw the big and little hands join at the Roman numeral twelve. 

How terribly blue of a Christmas, yet the reasoning had been long overdue.

❅ ❅ ❅ 

How's one to know if the bone crush is worth it? 

As Harry looks at you now, a newfound love coursing through his veins, he knows that it is. The fireplace warms you and your daughter, both wrapped in a blanket. You're letting her help you open your last present. 

It's crystal clear that the scene in front of him is entirely what he fought for. A family to protect. The home he sits in. Your love he spent so long missing. 

He walked through hellfire summers to revive your love in him and trudged through icebound winters to ensure you never forgot about him. All to get to that spring garden of everlasting primroses which never entirely died. 

"What did your mum get?" Harry asks his daughter while powering his phone off. 

She holds up a tiny jewelry box and looks back and forth between her parents. You take it from her and inspect it, then look up at Harry and give him an unreadable glance. 

"Open it," he insists softly.

You slowly lift the top, revealing a gold ring that weaves into a flower-shaped diamond. A gasp gets caught in your throat as you take it out. "Harry..." you trail off.

This time, you say his name differently than when you found his wedding ring in his dressing room months ago. This time, you say it with a particular fondness that puts him together again. 

"Thought maybe we could try gold this time," Harry explains, kissing your cheek. "See if that works." 

He thinks of the silver ring you had put back on your finger after you both decided to try again. It reminded him of hurt more than he'd like it to, so he bought a ring with a different, more sentimental purpose. 

"I think it'll work," you say with a genuine smile. 

A Christmas long past left scars still unhealed, but each wound led him right where he belonged. 

❅ ❅ ❅

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #auld lang syne #gold rush series

[morgenlich]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

also gonna tag @council-of-beetroot since she tagged me also lol

going 2 be sharing the ao3 summary + first few paragraphs of each since i've seen ppl doing a few different things with this meme lol

in really no particular order:

1) last light (gen fic w multiple ships, rated E)

just some desperate people trying to survive with (and sometimes in spite of) each other.

The lightbulb overhead flickered almost imperceptibly, emitting a faint hum just at the edge of Tolys’ hearing. Sighing softly to himself, he drummed his fingertips on the windowsill anxiously, ignoring the cup of now-cold tea beside him as he tried to focus on the fat snowflakes tumbling lazily from the sky to the streets below, where they melted almost instantly. The little village slumbered on, cradled to the east by a forest so dark and dense even Tolys was wary of it; its shadow loomed in the gloaming, and he wondered, not for the first time, what creatures might be prowling there. Darkness fell swiftly, the handful of streetlamps doing little against it. There was little threat of an air raid so far east, though there was still an uneasy feeling in Tolys’ stomach. Even so early in December, few people wanted to deal with the cold; those who braved it shuffled quickly toward wherever their business was and otherwise left the streets to the night. Tolys imagined most of the residents would be readying for dinner then, preparing to settle in for the evening…. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A woman held her child’s hand as they crossed the street. On the corner, a couple of officers stood, lighting their cigarettes. You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting there was a war on, were it not for the tanks lurking in the shadows.

2) like they do in babylon (rusliet, rated E)

for the past several nights, russia has been calling lithuania to his study to talk and drink with him, and lithuania doesn't know why--until russia kisses him.

This is a bad idea, Tolys thought, as though that hadn’t been the appeal of it an hour ago. “Would you like some more wine?” Russia asked as he refilled his own glass. “I—please. Yes.” He bit his lip and held out his still half-full glass, willing his hand to be steady while Russia topped him off. He couldn’t bring himself to sip at it, though it was a vintage certainly deserving of that treatment; he wished only to calm his nerves, he was numb to any sensation but the buzz of anxiety running through his body, and if Russia thought anything of the gulp he managed to swallow, he gave no indication of it. Russia was sitting sideways on the sofa, one foot tucked under his leg, absentmindedly swirling his wineglass as he watched Tolys. His violet eyes were full of some emotion that Tolys couldn’t—or perhaps, simply didn’t want to—name. The deep yellow silk of the cushions glistened faintly, catching the light of the dying fire before them. Tolys focused on the dancing flames and took another drink of wine.

3) plein air (frapol, rated T)

[summary is just part of the same excerpt i'm using here]

Yawning, Feliks rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand and reaching for a grape with the other. Francis, his billowy white shirt hanging off his shoulder, gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “More wine?” he asked. Feliks shook his head; Francis shrugged before pouring himself another glass, and the two lapsed back into comfortable silence, lounging on the old blanket Francis had brought with. The Mediterranean stretched out before them, glittering like a sapphire, the horizon obscured by midday haze. Barely perceptible waves lapped at the brilliant white sand, their murmuring the only sound other than the occasional breeze, hardly strong enough to lift their hair. Pale cliffs sheltered the beach from the rest of the world; earlier, they’d provided shade, too, but the sun was almost directly overhead now, and the only shade offered came from a sun-faded parasol propped up behind them. Feliks didn’t mind; the warmth of the sun on his skin was more than welcome after so many months stuck in the cold, or indoors…. It had been Francis’s idea to head south for a bit, and it had been his suggestion that morning to spend the day at the beach. “You need to rest,” he’d said, “and the warm air will your lungs good.” Feliks hadn’t complained—he was sick of Paris, and the warm air did make it much easier to breathe…he’d missed the sea, too. It’s the wrong sea, though, he thought. It was such a brilliant blue he still wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t hallucinating it, and Francis had brought the sweetest wine he’d ever tasted, grapes and berries and a melon all so ripe they were practically bursting, it was just the two of them…and yet. Vivid memories of searching for shells and amber when he was younger, alongside…. No, it was pointless to dwell on that.

4) heartlines (lietpol, rated M)

feliks learns to be a little more comfortable with himself around tolys.

Feliks took a deep breath, smoothing his skirt—hoping it would wipe the sweat from his hands in the process—before timidly placing his hand on the doorknob. He had been so confident that Tolys wouldn’t judge him until that moment, just before showing him. He was suddenly glad he’d decided against wearing makeup—that would have been far too much, he was sure—or maybe the fake earrings would be where Tolys would draw the line—instinctively, his hands flew to his ears to pull them off— He took another deep breath. He’d seen men in perfectly masculine clothes wearing earrings, this was fine. Anyway, Tolys is the one with hair past his shoulders, he thought. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the handle, still not turning it. The best thing to do was just get on with it—either Tolys wouldn’t care, and this worrying was for nothing; or he would, and it was best to just get that humiliation over with. He could feel his hands growing slick again; he grimaced. Couldn’t he at least act confident? He’d done all sorts of crazy-ridiculous-stupid things without a second thought, why should this make his lunch want to come back up? He rolled his shoulders to adjust his posture, then opened his bedroom door before he could talk himself out of it.

5) midnight rendezvous (ruspol, rated E)

Feliks wants to blow off some steam, and Ivan is willing to help. Part of my whump/smut combo "bingo," the prompt was "spanking."

Feliks made his way through the darkened halls of Russia’s estate, wrapping his blue satin house robe tightly around himself as though it would stave off the cold. Winter had well and truly come, the oppressive cold leaking into the house through cracks in the walls and gaps in the windows. Had there been lights in the hall, Feliks was sure he’d be able to see his own breath. At least it was a clear night, and still; the nights where the wind shrieked as it hurled itself against the walls were by far the worst, and Feliks was not entirely convinced the old manor house they had all been stuffed into would withstand another winter after this one. The overwhelming smell of cheap perfume clung to him as he walked. It was annoying, to know the house well enough to be able to so easily avoid making the floors creak in his wake. Well, if he was going to be stuck living with Russia, he might as well get something out of it.

#q&a #nopeferatu #hetalia #my writing #thank you!!! #and thank you also beetroot and the two anons who sent me this lol

[byeol-ssi]

𝐢. 𝐈 𝐖𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐔𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝

✦ kamisato ayato x gn!reader | genshin impact x loosely inspired by the manhwas "i have become the hero's rival" or "your ultimate love rival" and "i raised a black dragon"

✦ tags: isekai!reader, historical manhwa au, royalty au, enemies to reluctant allies to lovers, slow burn, cursing, descriptions of pain and fear (nothing graphic!)

✦ table of contents.

You awake to a world that isn't your own.

It's a ceiling you hardly recognize, one entirely different from the view that greets you everyday. Duvet covers that settle too heavily on your frame. Tassled pillows too frivolous for your tastes. A bed far too spacious with sheer white drapes that hung from the carved wooden posts.

There is an idyllic symphony in the air; a chorus of birds chirping, a stream flowing, bees... buzzing, paired with sunlight that symbolizes an invitation to a new day.

You dreamt often—regardless of the time and place—so this wasn't a complete surprise. Your imagination kept you alive, kept your heart beating so strongly, kept you hopeful when reality was otherwise hopeless.

However, your surroundings and sensations were startingly vivid for you to be truly asleep. Were lucid dreams always this accurate in portraying the likeness of life?

You finally sat up, looking about the room. It was much larger than expected and lavishly decorated with vintage furnishing. Elegant creams, and marbles, and gold-trimmed walls. A balcony that opened to a magnificent view of a garden. It reminded you of a royal's chamber described in those fairytales you used to read as a child.

Still, there was an obvious absence of personal belongings and clutter, as if the space lacked an owner for quite a while.

Your gaze fell on the vanity dresser, complete with an ornate mirror. Looking back, you've never actually glimpsed upon your appearance in a dream. You abandoned the gratifying warmth of the bed in order to satisfy your curiosity, padding barefoot across the room to reach it.

The pearly-glass reflected... you.

A lancing pain pierces your skull, leaving a trail of searing heat down to your spine, and you almost expect yourself to jerk awake. Open your eyes to the world you know.

You don't.

It's as if your head had been split open and now swam in unfathomable waves of pain. Feeling faint, you staggered back, knocking over a nearby table as you attempted to regain your footing. The pile of papers atop it fluttered down to the floor like a flurry of snowflakes, along with a few other objects that tumbled off its surface with a resounding crash.

The door to the bedroom slammed open, accompanied by an alarmed shout of your name. Piercing blue eyes took in your distraught expression, and their beholder lifted his hands in a nonthreatening gesture.

The longer you gaped at the man's sudden arrival, the closer you were brought to the preposterous conclusion that you were familiar with him.

From a different place. From another version of reality.

From... across a screen.

Kamisato Ayato.

Head of the wealthy Kamisato family, and youngest ever to be named Master of the kingdom's magic tower. A born prodigy with an unparalled talent and affinity for magic.

The male lead from a story you had been planning to read.

A fictional character. A person simply conjured from the author's imagination. A man composed of lines scrawled on a page by an artist's hand.

The abrupt headache gradually subsided, and the side where the wood's sharp edge collided with your hip now throbbed into a dull ache, bringing more confusion to you than discomfort.

Everything felt real. Too real.

Ayato calls out for you again. Slow. Soft. Reassuring.

There was no mistaking it this time. He'd called you by your name.

How does he know your identity? And why does he act as if your presence here wasn't at all surprising?

The whole situation seemed outlandish but not unfamiliar. In fact, you've read about this sub-genre of fantasy a hundred times.

A reader from Earth who is suddenly transported into another world. In some cases, this happens through reincarnation. Sometimes, the soul occupies another character or individual already living in that world.

Often, and regrettably, it meant that the said reader had died.

Oh my god.

Were you dead? Had you died in your sleep and got sucked into the novel?

You swallowed, panic beating like a drum inside your chest. You closed your eyes and pinched the flesh of your forearm.

This is fine. Everything's fine. This is all a dream. It has to be. Perhaps if you told yourself this enough, you would eventually wake up and find yourself back home.

"You look as if you'll collapse at any second. I'm going to come closer, alright? It's just me."

Your eyelids flew open, taken aback by Ayato's voice. He stood much nearer now, with his lips pursed in worry and his forehead furrowed with concern.

Shit. You were still here. Stuck. Possibly dead. Oh, god.

The horrifying possibility allowed fear to loosen your tongue, and you blurted out the first thought that came to mind.

"I'm not the person you know!"

Ayato froze in his tracks. He studied you for a moment, as if you were a wild animal, and he was figuring out the best course of action to deal with you.

"What do you mean?" His demeanor had turned frigid, eyeing you with apparent distrust and understandable wariness.

You cursed inwardly. That wasn't exactly the way, nor the words, you'd intended to tell him. Even worse, you had no answer to his question, and the countless more popping up in your mind.

If, somehow, and for whatever absurd reason, you had been transmigrated into this fictional plot—particularly as another character—Ayato's reaction should've been wholly different.

Yet, he used your name. The mirror showed your face. Your voice sounded the same to your ears.

Going by the information you possessed, it seemed more likely that you hadn't inhibited someone else's body.

This was simply you.

Except the male lead acted as if your existence in his world was completely ordinary. Which meant that 'other' you had been living here for a considerable amount of time. How long specifically, you aren't sure.

"I'm not the person you know," you repeated. Blood pounded in your ears. Would it be wise to reveal yourself as a transmigrator so early on?

For plots like these, it was common for the transported reader to take fifty or more chapters before they admitted to being an outlander. Even then, the information was disclosed very selectively. "I—this isn't the world where I'm from. We have the same name, face, and body, but I'm not them."

The air shifts. Becomes overwhelming. Similar to a bottle holding too much pressure within. Completely suffocating. Like you've been gripped by the throat and forced underwater.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Oxygen leaves your lungs, cutting your breath off with a gasp. You fall to your knees and polished shoes step into your swiftly-blurring vision.

Please, wake up.

You craned your neck to the source of the unforeseen change in the atmosphere.

Ayato stood there, looking down on your crumpled, helpless form. Any semblance of the concern he held for you mere moments ago had vanished without a trace. In its place, were wisps of glowing blue light that swirled around his fingers.

"Then what did you do to them?"

Ah, fuck.

— SOMETIME EARLIER —

Exhaustion weighed on your eyelids, but tonight, sleep did not come as easily as you wished it to.

The clock on your phone read 1:57 AM, and for the past two hours, you had settled into a steady rhythm of swiping through several short clips on a social media platform.

You contemplated putting your phone away already when your finger pauses, letting the current video play through its entire duration.

A big bold text in red filled your screen, nearly blinding you. 'New Web Novel Recommendation!' it said. You squinted as it flashed through a series of screenshots from a newly adapted and illustrated web novel that's been circulating through your feed ever since its release.

So far, you've managed to gather a very vague idea of the plot and the notable characters included.

It was a typical romance drama and fantasy narrative. The male lead, Ayato, would spend most of his time trying to protect his sister from the vicious villains who wanted her for themselves.

At some point, the villains force a demon into Ayato's body and consciousness, making his journey all the more challenging. He meets the female lead, a saintess, who offers to assist him with her divine power and save him from fully succumbing to the demon's curse.

Based on reviews and the numerous edits you had come across already, you finally surmised that the story was worth looking into.

Tapping the bookmark button to save the clip, you exited the application and consequently turned your phone off—determined to at least catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rose.

As you nestled deeper under your blanket, you couldn't help but smile. Honestly, nothing would ever compare to the excitement you felt whenever you had the chance to spend an entire day simply reading.

Getting lost in an entirely different world—even if it was only a few hours and pages—was a different kind of bliss.

With that, you drifted off to sleep.

— PRESENT —

Oh god. Any moment longer, and you were certain you would die of asphyxiation.

Considering you were still alive and, you know... not really dead.

"Let me repeat myself,"—Ayato loomed over you. Domineering. Powerful. Perfectly suitable for the lead role—"what did you do to them?"

What in the world were you supposed to say? No matter how hard you tried to rack your brain, you couldn't come up with an explanation yourself.

Would continuing to tell him the truth even be worth it? Come up with some far-fetched excuse? Laugh it off and act as if this was all a prank?

Or should you allow him to kill you? Perhaps crossing your fingers and praying that you returned back to Earth was your best option.

You shuddered.

Nope. No. That would be too risky. For all you knew, this could be your second chance at life already.

More importantly, you needed to figure out a way to calm Ayato down. Still...

How the fuck were you supposed to give him an answer when he was deliberately choking you to death? Also, why would he automatically assume that all of this was your fault?

Your fear morphed into annoyance, and you couldn't hold back the glare you shot up at him. "Let. Me. Speak," you demanded, the words coming out of your throat in a wheeze.

Something akin to surprise flickers in his eyes; then it's gone. A second passes. Then two. Until the heavy weight on your chest, squeezing your lungs, had been lifted.

You greedily took in some air, refusing to back down from his gaze. With your chest still heaving, you rasped, "I don't know what happened to them. To me. I recognize who you are, but not in the way you think."

He crossed his arms. Narrowed his eyes further. "I don't understand."

Great. That makes two of you.

"If I explain it to you, you must promise me that you'll listen." You took a deep breath and spoke in the most pleading tone you were capable of. "And even after I finish, please don't strike me down."

"I'll be the judge of that."

You gripped the carpet rug beneath your fingertips. There was no other choice. Especially when you could tell that Ayato's patience was wearing thin, and the air was getting thicker as he subtly activated his powers once more.

You couldn't die here. Not yet.

"In my world, you're a character from a novel. This world is a fictional story I was supposed to read."

✦ byeol's notes: this chapter is dedicated to my moon @tellerluna-stories (who also came up with the series title!) ♡ without her, this project would've remained buried in self-doubt, anxiety, and fear — never to see the light of day.

thank you for always giving me courage. ily, truly.

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! to reader, you have my love.

#genshin impact #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x you #ayato x reader #ayato x y/n #ayato x you #✦ archon quest. #manhwa x genshin

[wildbeautifuldamned]

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VTG Glass Christmas Ornament Angel Red Dress ebay Ymeregstar

#ornament #christmas ornament #angel #horn #musician #musical instruments

[aryastark-valarmorghulis]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Tagged by the lovely @thefairylights and @cloudsofbespin ❤️

1. Are you named after anyone? No, my mum just liked the name, I guess.

2. When was the last time you cried? Uh, I can’t remember? I’m a “cry on the inside” kind of girl. No, I know it’s not good lmao.

3. Do you have kids? No. I don’t think I want kinds to be honest.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? It’s my love language ❤️

5. What sports do you play/have played? Er, I’m terrible at sports, especially team sports. I used to swim but I quit a few years ago. Does walking the dog counts?

6. What's the first thing you notice about people? Um. If they’re good looking. There, I’ve said it.

7. What's your eye color? Very dark brown, almost black.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? I don’t watch scary movies, so I guess happy endings. Open endings are my favourite, though.

9. Any special talents? No, sigh, I’m not a special snowflake.

10. Where were you born? Sadly, on this Earth.

11. What are your hobbies? Reading, writing, traveling, trying new food, taking long walks, vintage fashion.

12. Do you have pets? I have a princess, but if you want to call her pet, sure.

13. How tall are you? More like how short am I: 164 cm.

14. Favorite subject in school? I was the girl with glasses who loved Literature and actually thought her Lit teacher was cool.

15. Dream job? The one I have ❤️

Tagging: everyone who wants to do it ❤️

#tag meme #arya stuff

[jencsi]

Holiday Finn! Rambles.

As a child- decorating every room in the house with her parents, vintage figurines of Santas, snowmen, reindeer, paper cut outs of similar shapes that get tapped to the walls, hanging signs with intricate drawings of winter scenes, musical whimsical decorations, holiday shows on television, Frosty, Rudolph, window lights, lights on the perimeter of her home, soft jazzy music playing, fresh cookies and other baked goods from her mother, tinsel, ornaments of all varieties, glass, ceramic, animals, handmade in her elementary school classes over the years, frilly dresses with lace and poofy hems, shiny shoes that clasp together with buttons, watching snow fall, hot chocolate, marshmallows, bowls of candy wrapped in foil on various tables in the living room and kitchen, towels with decorative patterns knitted in, red and green stripes, tiny animals, snowflakes, Christmas cards from various friends and associates of her parents strung up on the wall as part of the decors charm. The holiday party at the hospital where her father worked, helping with collecting toys and food for underprivileged families, the donations her parents could make to help those less fortunate as well as the local animal shelters. 

As an adult- Pleated skirt, knit sweater, black tights, extra extra curls in her hair, strands of silver tinsel caught in her hair at random times. Slow dancing on a hardwood floor, dimmed lights, only decorative lights illuminating the room. Bubbly drinks like champagne in a fancy glass that gets lost amongst a crowd. Sugar cookies, frosting, cinnamon rolls, more frosting, melted chocolate. Curling up on a couch or comfy chair, blankets, fuzzy socks, a fire going in the fireplace. Falling asleep on that couch or chair, silver necklaces, sparkles on her cheeks from some unknown source. Walking around the harbor hand in hand with him, attending multiple holiday parties over the course of the month of December, a little black dress, mistletoe, stealing kisses in empty hallways and the parking lot while snow falls, sticking to their coats and hair, people decorate their boats for a competition, boxes wrapped neatly with multicolored ribbons and bows, red and green nail polish, staying in bed all day on the 26th, recovery mode, hiding away under the warm covers, making a gingerbread house that barely stands up, popcorn, holiday movies on the TV in the living room, candles that smell like vanilla and pine and berries. Being able to make similar donations to charity the way her parents taught her. The one day of the year she wants to wake up early, being spoiled with presents at every stage of her life, sitting cross legged on the floor to open them, colorful paper flying everywhere, pure joy always.

#julie finlay #I just love her #holidays #headcanons #ramblings #I might add to this as time goes by

[deathvisited]

aesthetics tag -- verity williams

rules: bold all the aesthetics that your muse relates to

side a - the city

glittering lights, yawning skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neonsigns, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, ripped jeans, bright lipstick, dazzling smiles.

side b - the book nerd

large glasses, steaming hot chocolate, thick books, lofi music, hot pastries, soft smiles, large sweaters, quiet libraries, small flowers, melting candles, sweetened coffee, messy hair buns, soft pillows, fairy lights, vanilla scents.

side c - the stereotypical girl

soft pinks, mini skirts, crop tops, romantic fantasies, love songs, strawberry milkshakes, lipgloss, high ponytails, candy hearts, nail polish, starbucks coffee, clear skies, hoop earrings, excited ramblings, stuttering heartbeats, rose bouquets, soft blushes.

side d - the stereotypical boy

arcade games, graphic t-shirts, baseball caps, chocolate milkshakes, messy rooms, acoustic guitars, chocolate chip cookies, multi-colored bruises, rap music, nightly escapades, stolen glances, pencil-drumming, chocolate milk boxes, low hums.

side e - the nature hippie

mini plants, cloud-watching, stars, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-coloured leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses.

side f - the rebel

cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavoured bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings.

side g - the winter

busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies.

side h - the summer

tank tops, lemonade, sunny days, dripping popsicles, short haircuts, tinted sunglasses, cotton candy, amusement parks, traveling, blasting music on the car radio, wagging dog tails, large sunflowers, snow cones.

side i - the autumn

pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colours, hair braids, soft sweaters, colourful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zen tangling, vintage cameras.

side j - the spring

floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colourful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower.

#✦ — • aesthetic • verity williams • #✦ — • life things • verity williams • #✦ — • musings • verity williams •

[dustedmagazine]

Dan Melchior — Welcome to Redacted City (Midnight Cruiser)

Welcome To Redacted City by Dan Melchior Band

The title comes from an odd, lo-fi interval called “Slamming the Tent Door,” an eerie conglomeration of guitar noodling and amp buzz and ominous, echo-shrouded murmurings about the surreal “redacted city.” It’s an outpost in Dan Melchior’s volume-fried punk alterative universe, where insects teem and colonels plot, and no one really knows where they are. It sounds simple, but in practice turns devilishly opaque, shape-shifting and evocative.  

Welcome to Redacted City brings together all of the things you might love (or come to love, if you’re just getting here) about Dan Melchior’s work, the frayed distortion, the seething sarcasm, the vintage sci-fi, b-movie surreality. He sees you pretending that you don’t watch Real Housewives, and he knows.

Dan Melchior recently moved from North Carolina to Austin, but in this, his first album of 2023 (following three in 2022, according to Discogs). He hasn’t altogether abandoned the Tar Heel State, however, because his band includes a couple of players from the Spider Bags—Chris Girard on bass and Clark Blomquist on drums. Anthony Allman, the keyboard player with whom Melchior recorded the much more abstract and experimental Depth Boys album last year, fills out the band.

That makes sense, because what Spider Bags did with a thick Southern drawl is very similar to what Melchior has been doing in his cracked and contemptuous English accent: infuse the most brutal, primitive sort of garage rock with a complicated sort of poetry. Melchior lets fly bright clanging guitar chords, buzzing dissonance and exuberantly simple choruses, then twists the whole thing several notches toward the bizarre.

There are 21 one songs on this one, single album, each in more or less the same palette, but as different as snowflakes. It is somewhat difficult to summarize. There are, for instance, giddy, happy-go-lucky songs that seem to have a squishy dangerous underpinning. I’m talking about organ wheedling, guitar-blaring “Going Outside,” which careens on in a carefree way, while leaving you with the distinct impression that no one should go outside. There are sharp, complicated cultural observations about the obscurest sorts of phenomena, a 1946 Joseph Manciewicz film noir called Somewhere in the Night (“Larry Cravat”), the founder of the long-running English oddball blues band, the Groundhogs (“TS McPhee”) and the Kurosawa film “Ran” (“Apologists, Controversialists, Etc.”).

Novelistic vignettes bob up from impossibly thick stews of buzz and feedback, as on “A Shot of the Master” (“What is the world’s biggest bad-ass doing today? Practicing tai chi in his special pjs. What is the world’s most feared man doing tonight? Watching Sex and the City with a glass of Amstel light.”) And yet, though the discourse is sharp and knowing, he’s got very little patience for your pretensions; see him rip the cover off your low-end television habits in “I Watch TV.”

If you’ve ever caught Melchior live, you’ll know that the elegance of his argument in no way compromises the force of his delivery—and this is true on the current disc as well. The man plays loud and hard and sharp and with a good bit of noise embedded, and his band is well up to the task as well. Welcome to Redacted City offers the cleansing fury of garage rock primitivism, but it is not the least bit primitive.

Jennifer Kelly

#dan melchior #welcome to redacted city #midnight cruise #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #punk #poetry #lo-fi #midnight cruiser

[mythofstarlilly]

100+ Inspo Words and Ideas

Animals

​

Giraffe

Jaguar

Elephant

Bear

Snow Leopard

Panther

Squirrels

Fox

Rhino

Wolf

Leopard

Elk

Peacock

Tiger

Butterfly

Lynx

Badger

Parrot

Macaw

Panda

Red Panda

Skunk

Whale

Jellyfish

Owl

Horse

Moth

Swan

Orcas

Octupus

Seahorse

Koi Fish

Crow

Stingray

Deer

Bee

Angelfish

Bat

Dragonfly

Crocodile

Goldfish

Monkey

Turtle

Sloth

Shark

Frog

Dolphin

Crab

Rabbit

Hedgehog

Lion

Coyote

Zebra

Goat

Snake

Penguin

Seal

Fish

Otter

Bird

Cat

Dog

Raccoon

Puffer Fish

Crane

Lizard

Bug

Axolotl

Caterpillar

Eel

Eagle

Falcon

Firefly

Gorilla

Spider

Plants/Flowers

Violet

Snowdrop

Primrose

Cactus

Pansy

Lilac

Carnation

Daisy

Snake Plant

Lily

Sunflower

Wllow Tree

Rose

Succulent

Poppies

Aspens

Peperomia

Azalea

Mushroom

Coral

Tulip

Leaf

Acorn

Eucalyptus

Lavender

Cherry Blossom

Lotus

Vines

Jade Plant

Monstera

Ivy

Hydrangeas

Leaf

Wild Flowers

Sage

Bamboo

Orchids

Rubber Plant

Holly

Oak Tree

Palm Tree

Hibiscus

Bluebells

Hawthorn

Pothos

Magnolia

Rattle Snake Plant

Buttercup

Iris

Aster

Bellflower

Dahlia

Coral

Objects

Lights

Treasure

Ship

Map

Car

Train

Book

Ticket

Bow and Arrow

Trash Can

Axe

Key

Knife

Necklace

Lantern

Candle

Mug

Camera

Glasses

Piano

Mirror

Chess Piece

Trident

Crown

Seashells

Crystals

Lamp

Swing

Fossil

Hot Air Ballon

Sword

Tent

Campfire

Snowflake

Potion

Skull

Planet

Sand Dollar

Tea Pot

Tea Cup

Dreamcatcher

Perfume

Compass

Wand

Globe

Umbrella

Lock

Button

Ring

Neon Sign

Headphones

Flag

Bike

Sparkler

Snow Globe

Hour Glass

Anchor

Stained Glass

Radio

Watering Can

​Stuffed Animal

Concepts/Ideas

Fall

Winter

Dreams

Summer

Spring

Enchanted

Tranquil

Mysterious

Ancient

Hope

Overgrown

Sparkly

Adventure

Calm

Wicked

Fancy

Royal

Happy

Marble

Chaotic

Colorful

Angry

Sad

Wet

Deep

Lush

Wonder

Flowing

Dizzy

Bubble

Vintage

Love

Haunted

Electricity

Patterns

Memory

Shadow

Food

Grapefruit

Cotton Candy

Waffle

Lemonade

Tomato

Ice Cream

Blueberry

Strawberry

Cherry

Egg

Hot Cocoa

Pie

Apple

Cake

Donut

Star Fruit

Kiwi

Raspberry

Carrot

Avocado

Coffee

Dragon Fruit

Banana

Orange

Peach

Watermelon

Margarita

Shake

Tea

Lime

Lemon

Honey

Peas

Pineapple

Mango

Gummy Bear

Juice

Iced Tea

Cupcake

Yogurt

Popsicles

Pancakes

Lollipop

Hamburger

Bread

Pear

Grape

Landscape/Nature

Waterfall

Lake

Galaxy

Mountains

​Storm

Cliff

Rocks

Clouds

Desert

Jungle

Trees

Forest

Rainbow

Ocean

Meadow

Rain

Beach

Volcano

River

Canyon

Snow

Hiking Trail

Underwater

Cave

Waves

Sunset

Cove

Valley

Swamp

Arctic

Lightning

Flower Field

Dune

Marsh

Hills

​

Structures

Bridge

Castle

Stairs

House

City

Temple

Window

Door

Famous Structure

Lighthouse

Gazebo

Cottage

Fountain

Allyway

Faris Wheel

Cafe

Book Store

Arch Way

Sidewalk

Lamp Post

Market

Store

Balcony

[poshstory]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Mid Century Dalian Snowflake Vase.

[susanhazard]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: VINTAGE PLASTIC SNOWFLAKES WITH SANTA CLAUS LIGHTS.

[fowardfashionfindz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Silver snowflake cut glass dangle earrings.

[schultzie777]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 2 Vintage Green w/ White Hand Blown Mica Chips Mercury Glass Ornaments Balls.

[juliebrost]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Williams Sonoma Christmas Cookie Stamps Used Four Pieces Glass.

[wildbeautifuldamned]

Vintage Christmas Mercury Glass Garland Beaded Snowflake Ornament 3” ebay Nikki Mac Collectibles

#ornament #christmas ornament #star