Work or play, both're done hard.
Send me a six word story describing my muse


 You will always
 deserve my best.

music pumped through speakers like blood {{ this is bad don't l o o k}}
Send me a six word story describing my muse


Does it move you, Fitz?
     Do you feel it in your bones?

Musical genius held back by incompetence
Send me a six word story describing my muse


   Try again, ol’ man.

hot as hell in both ways
Send me a six word story describing my muse


How much longer
    ‘till you burn for me?

Aim high. Burn bright. Goodbye, dream.
Send me a six word story describing my muse


Why does everything
     end in flames?

» ; send me a six word story describing my muse.


          He can’t help the frustrated noise
          in the back of his throat, hanging
          his head. “Why do you always
          show up when I’m upset?”


          Still, he leans into Silas’ touch,
          closing his eyes. “They laid off
          over half the staff at the Tribune
          because of those new laws Ryan
          put up… m’gonna lose my apartment.”

The disciple sighs, relieved
                                 ”S’that all?”

His frown fades fast,
replaced with a faint smile
that falls just shy of fond
as he dries the man’s cheeks
one tear at a time.

"I’ve got more than enough room fer you
                                                       at mine.

He tips the reporter’s chin,
the pad of his thumb brushed
to a trembling bottom lip.

"Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head about it."


The hall outside Hector’s dressing room was not crowded, and it’d been easy to get out of there in one piece, but then Poseidon Plaza

Well. In short, it was a mess.

And Lin did not like crowds. He would weave through them as quickly as he could but all the contact and the heat and the noise was sometimes too much to take.

Deciding he’d had enough of this madhouse - Lin did not even like Cohen’s shows - he darted into the nearest store he found. Once inside, he leaned against the door and let out a short sigh. The sounds of the crowd outside could still be heard, but now, at least, they were further away, muffled.


He noted the man behind the counter and gave a small wave. “Sorry, I just needed to get out of the crowd. I hope you don’t mind.”

   Even close to closing, business was bustling in Rapture Records. Though his years spent behind that counter had him accustomed to the frenzy that followed one of Cohen’s shows, Silas was still at his rope’s end after a long, demanding day. His staff was in an even bigger tizzy, running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off in a scramble to clear the crowded shoppe by eleven. With ten minutes to go, the disciple figured the task as fruitless as it was maddening. But, that was business. 

  Mild amusement twitched up the corners of his lips as he shot a knowing look towards his newest patron, snorting at his shortsighted attempt to dodge the crowd. 

  “Not at all,” he gave a quick shrug, one hand busied with an overflowing till. 

  “But you mighta came tuh’ the wrong place.”

The Icarus Lounge || NOW OPEN
[By V. Trebuchet]