Adorable! I love this for him.
And relatable because this is the standard reaction I get from anyone I make listen to The Decemberists.
Hi, hello.
All this recent talk about Shane coded songs made me think about Harvey a bit. I’m of the opinion that he’d be a fan of the Decemberists, and from that thought came what has got to be the most self-indulgent little thing I’ve ever written.
Look below the cut for some SFW fluff.
Contains: domesticity and conversations best suited for those of us whose musical tastes crystallized in the 2006 indie folk scene.
Harvey had a vinyl collection. It was endearing, his dedication to physical media. Mostly jazz albums, smooth and smoky, all warm and rich through his speakers.
You weren’t much for jazz. He had some other options too, but you weren’t sure those were for you either.
“Why do you listen to music about dead babies?”
You’d asked it while washing the dishes. Harvey nearly dropped the plate in his hands. “What!?”
You shrugged. “I put on one of your records and the guy was singing about a dead baby.”
“You… what album?” Harvey’s eyes were crinkled in bemusement.
“It had a boat on it?”
Harvey thought for a second, then his face lit in recognition. “The Decemberists! They’re wonderful!”
You laughed. “Didn’t know your taste was so… edgy?”
“Oh no no no.” Harvey was blushing. “That track… not a good representation. Here.” He dried his hands, grabbed yours, pulled you into his hobby room. You leaned against the door, trying to control your smile as he rifled through his albums. He made a small “ah” sound as he pulled one out. “This is a better starting point.”
Strings filled the room, and you settled in on the floor to listen. You liked this one a little better, but…
“Is this a song about a couple jumping off a cliff together?”
“…yes?” Harvey ducked his head, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips.
“I mean, I like it better than the dead baby one…”
“Hmmm…” Harvey fiddled with the player again. “They’re known for this one. Might want to sit down, it’s long.”
You appeased him, doing your best not to knock into the model that was drying on the table next to you. Harvey joined, picking up a bit of sandpaper. He worked away at a few small pieces of wood as you spent the next nine minutes trying to follow the action of a rambling nautical tale.
“So let me get this straight,” you said as an accordion reeled through its outro. “This dude bankrupted the kids mom and gave her an std or something, so the singer took to sea to kill him, but then they both got swallowed by a whale, but he’s still gonna kill him?”
Harvey nodded, keeping his eyes on his project. “Yup. That’s… that’s about it.”
“Huh.” You sat and watched him for a moment as he smoothed away at a rough edge. The track transitioned, a gentle guitar picking, the lead singer’s lowing tenor sliding through a simple melody.
You recognized it.
“I think I know this one?” You tried to place it. It sounded a little different in your head. Softer. Hummed.
Harvey was blushing again. “I get it stuck in my head sometimes. It’s one of my favorites. ‘Of Angels and Angles.’ Makes me think of you.”
“Awww…” You couldn’t help the slow smile. That was exactly it. Harvey would hum it sometimes around the house, or, now that you were thinking a little harder, when you were in bed, head on his chest, the melody rumbling beneath you as you grew up warm and tired and relaxed.
Harvey’s lips were moving, singing without singing as he brushed away a bit of dust from the wing he held.
There’s a swallow
There’s a calm
Here’s a hand to lay on your open palm today
You stood, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, buried your face in his hair as the song wound its way to its end. “Alright,” you said. “That was a lot better than the first one I heard. What else you got?”
Harvey tilted his head up at you. “Ever heard the story of the crane wife?”
You hadn’t, but now you couldn’t wait to hear all about it.
My doc and I did some fiddlin with my ADHD meds and now I’m back in Executive Dysfunction Hell™
Forgot how bad it is down here fuckin get me out
people who dont experience it cannot comprehend how awful executive dysfunction is. I WANT to do the task, i have the resources TO do the task, i will feel better having DONE the task
but i cant fucking do the task
This. This x1,000.
Comments nourish my soul in a way nothing else can.
I need you to understand that when I say "comments are appreciated!" I mean that I will reply to every one of them. I mean that an email with an ao3 notification has a higher priority than a message from my mother. I mean that I will have entire discussions in the comment section if you're up for it. Message me on tumblr and I will have the same discussions on an even more unhinged level. I will dissect entire personalities and ships and fictional political structures and worldbuilding with you. I will become your new best friend. You already ARE my new best friend. At the last battle, I would raise Anduril and say "For my ao3 readers" while a single tears rolls down my cheek, and dive into the fray. I would upload from beyond the grave if someone asked about the next chapter
Is this the inverse of the Tiffany problem?
I’m watching Splash (1984) which is a romcom about a guy who falls in love with a mermaid, and when she chooses a human name she chooses Madison and guy says “that’s not a real name, but alright” which seems to imply that Madison was not a name until at least the 80’s and all girls named Madison are actually named after the mermaid. thought you should know
Me: Ugh, man, I feel awful. But not like sick. Like a little depressed maybe? So tired… I want to do something, but my eyeballs may fall out of my head if I do. My left ear hurts, too. Am I getting an ear infection?
My migraine, putting on brass knuckles: Yeah, probably an ear infection.
are we not feeling very pious today, brother lionel
Curious about my writing?
AO3
Current Fandoms
Stardew Valley
Fear & Hunger 2: Termina
JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Who am I?
I'm a humble idiot. A lesbian. A writer of fanfiction. A lover of BL.
And, I hope, a father figure.
What else?
This blog is kind of for whatever. I'll post some teasers and previews for upcoming fics. I'm trying to be better at self-promotion and being part of the broader fandom community.
I mostly ship/write rarepairs.
Except Jotakak/Kajo, my beloveds.
If you're a writer in any of my fandoms, let's be mutuals!
Have a request?
Send me an ask!
I love a challenge and want to make you happy, bb :)
I’ve gotten a friend into A Stain and I cannot overstate how fast I texted her about this update!! Like I saw the post and my consciousness beamed directly into hers basically.
AND GODDAMN WHAT A CHAPTER
It nourished my soul ❤️
Title: A Stain that Won’t Dissolve Rating: Explicit Pairing: Alex/Sebastian Tags: Hurt/comfort, aged-up characters (mid 20s), minor character death, angst, injury, grief, miscommunication, bullying, enemies to lovers, dubious consent, internalised homophobia, closeted character, past child abuse, dyslexia, antagonist farmer, unrequited love, pining, acceptance, top!Sebastian, bottom!Alex, power dynamics, happy ending.
Summary: Alex hates Sebastian – which is great because Sebastian more than returns the favour – and what starts out as revenge fantasy turns into unironic lust, which evolves into unrequited love. Alex gets a job, Sebastian marries the farmer, and both of them lose almost everything before finding each other again. A story of two mutual bullies who learn how to messily grow up.
A Stain that Won’t Dissolve - Chapter 57 - End a Fight With Flowers
In which Sebastian finally gets Alex to talk to him, but not without some pressure first, and Alex reveals a lot more than he meant to. At the end of their conversation, Sebastian presents Alex with something unexpected.
Elliott grew up wanting to be Westley from The Princess Bride.
This is canon as far as I'm concerned
insp ☆
I’m pretty sure this is the plot of Garage: Bad Dream Adventure