DE LUCA.

and when you speak angels sing from above. everyday words seem to turn into love songs. give your heart and soul to me and life will always be la vie en rose.

[aioig]

[allegrc]

@mooncharted

[ripleyuniverse-deactivated20230]

[nekomancrr]

[allegrc]

@diffidenced

[allegrc]

mooncharted:

when no one else is around, daphne likes to use the second floor to get some work done. coffee shops are overrated when it compares to the space; there’s something comfortable about the beat-up couches and lack of having to pay for a latte just to sit around for two hours. and when people do show up? productivity takes a bit of a backseat, no matter how much daphne tries to multitask. she always gets sidetracked in the end. 

cue allegra walking in with a canvas and daphne knows any plans to get the rest of this editing done are over. “yesssss!” she squeals, shutting her laptop closed and walking over, reaching out her hands for the plastic bags. “gimme, gimme. i wanna know what kinda treasures you’re carrying.”

allegra’s grin widens when daphne says she’s willing to help. needless to say, she does feel a tad guilty about distracting her from whatever she was working on before, but she pushes that feeling aside and begins to empty out her plastic bags instead. “okay, so all of these supplies have, like, something wrong with them. i figure we can make some sort of awesome statement about expectations or society or something deep like that. it’ll be really cool.” after emptying the bags, she spreads the supplies all over the empty parts of the table. “take a look, we’ve got everything from markers with the wrong color caps on them, i call those surprise markers, to pom poms that are square shaped instead of circle. it’s a gold mine.” with that, she grabs the bottle of glue that she brought with her and tears the seal off of one of them. “let’s get started.”

[allegrc]

allegra’s car is full of some weird shit. any time there is something faulty at work, people attempt to throw it away, yet if allegra is working when it happens, it ends up in her backseat instead. wasting art supplies is not something she’ll let happen on her watch, even if the googly eye has two pupils or the gel pen doesn’t sparkle as much as it should. she walks into the second floor with two plastic bags in one hand and a canvas in the other, plopping them down on the table before looking around the room, her eyes landing on someone sitting alone in the corner. “hey,” she says, friendly smile on her face. “i’ve got a bunch of extra art supplies lying around, and i think i’m gonna turn this into, like, a huge collaborative piece for the next exhibit we do. you wanna help out?”

[allegrc]

diffidenced:

a shy laugh leaves his lips. you’re kidding, right? he nearly says. head craning down, a hand flies over his face, trying to shield himself from the camera’s line of sight. still, teddy can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. within him, two sides conflict: one side craved approval, the other insisted in believing teddy didn’t deserve it. of the two, the latter’s voice is louder. eyes glance coyly around the room until he allows himself to meet allegra’s gaze. biting his lip, he addresses the question at hand. “no, but — ”  at times it feels as if words never agree with him. in his mind, they piece themselves together to form the right sentences, but once they leave his lips all anyone else hears are mismatched words spluttering gibberish. slower this time, he says “sometimes i feel like i did.” that came out right. good. “some songs — they feel like they’re meant for you.” he bites his lip once more, growing aware that he’s trailing on some abstract tangent. oh god, what if she thinks that’s pretentious? “am i making any sense?”

the reaction to her taking pictures of him is the same as it always is, hiding his face from her, coyly smiling to the side. no matter how many times he insists she stop, he is still her favorite subject, and his face is ever present among the sd cards she has neatly organized in a filing cabinet beside her desk. allegra does not understand the deep and meaningful connection many of these people have to music. she’ll listen to some when she’s driving or walking some place simply as background noise, but she does not ever feel like songs are written for her, she never feels the need to sing to the world. it is a quiet and shallow appreciation, but her art lies in other mediums. still, she gives him a warm smile. “yeah, i understand that,” she says, nodding her head. sometimes simply listening is the best thing a person can do. she looks around, aiming her camera at the lights on the ceiling and snapping another picture of them, hoping this one is framed better than the other one’s she’s taken of the same sight in the past. “so,” she begins, turning back to him. “what have you been up to recently? i feel like it’s been far too long.”

[hithewalls]

[allegrc]

diffidenced:

fingers glide slowly over the keys of the live bar’s small electric keyboard. the song is slow - even slower that he’s taking small steps to learn it, but still, teddy hardly minds. it’s a big change from his bands usual upbeat sounds. with the live bar empty, he allows himself to indulge in the small relief. do you look into the mirror, he sings under his breath, not wanting to be heard, to remind yourself you’re there? nobody has ever heard him sing before, and even now that playing alongside pursued by bear’s given him more performing experience, he still holds some reservations about letting the world hear his voice. fingers hit the next chord, and a little louder, he sings, or has somebody’s good night kisses got that covered? eyes glance over to the empty room, except that  — when i’m not being honest, i pretend that  — hands crash down the keys as he catches the gaze of another person in the room. “oh fuck,” he says, voice betraying nervousness. “i was just  — i was, um, yeah. how long have you been standing there?” 

any time that allegra can spend outside the lonely four walls of her apartment, she takes advantage of, with her camera and her laptop and a mission to try and find something exciting to do. most of this takes her to parks and gardens and coffee shops and walking down streets, asking strangers if she can take their picture. but tonight, it brings her back to the b-side, following the sound of fingers dancing across a keyboard. she stands in the door frame, smiling as she recognizes the person making the music that’s filling her ears. she brings her camera to her eye, softly zooming in, her finger hovering over the button as she frames the perfect shot, the seventeenth perfect shot she has taken of him this week alone. when her finger finally makes contact with the button, the shutter sound gives her away, and she lowers her camera, smiling softly at the man who jumped out of her picture and came to life in front of her. “just for a minute or so, don’t worry, you sound great,” she says, placing her camera back in its home around her neck and walking closer towards him. “did you write that?”

[dailywomen]

[gilmoresgifs]

[musingisms]

“It’s difficult to live with a kind heart in such a cruel world.”

— wejaturks (via wnq-writers)