music is the heart's greatest librarian

Stella Hayes. 26. Music journalist. ⁂ You caught me in a moment When I was trying to catch the wind Thought there was some kind of magic But there's just well-executed tricks ⁂

[jaxflores]

It wasn’t the time for jokes. But Jax surpassed a safe level of boredom about an hour after the library lockdown, and now he was restless. The energy in the room was weird, everyone’s panic was too loud for him to take a nap, and he found a marker. It was a dangerous combination — on that led Jax to what was quite possibly the only quiet corner of the library. It was occupied by someone who appeared to be sleeping soundly, and after a (very) short debate, he decided to occupy himself. Uncapping the marker, he silently knelt and put his art skills to work on the unfortunate sleeping soul’s forehead. Those were party rules — you fall asleep first, you get the marker. It wasn’t his best work — but after after thirty seconds, there was a highlighter yellow penis on the other’s forehead and a smiley face on the cheek. Barely visible — he hadn’t thought to look for a darker color. Taking a step back to examine his artwork, he heard a light footfall behind him. Whirling around, he dropped the marker and held his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t me.” He mouthed, marker lamely clunking to the ground behind him.

[stella-hayes]

Stella’s hair had dried into a mess of frizzy loose curls since the rainy relocation from the fire station to the university and the soles of her shoes were finally dry enough to stop giving off that faint squish sound every time she took a step. She’d seemingly lost her parents in the panic of the crowd and thank god she did, they’d been fussing over her like she’d regressed into her baby form and needed coddling. Honestly, all she needed was a quiet corner and the half bottle of whiskey she’d been smart enough to grab on the way out of the house before all of this mess. Padding through the library quietly, Stella turned a corner to a little nook she’d scoped out earlier, only to find that it was now occupied-- by a sleeping form now sporting some lovely graffiti and the Banksy himself trying to play innocent. Stella watched, lips quirked in amusement, as the marker hit the ground and then she raised an eyebrow, taking one small step closer to inspect his work. “It’s pretty amateur,” she said, sliding her gaze back to meet his. “Where are the balls? And the pubes? Come on, man. If you’re gonna draw a dick on someone's face, you gotta commit to it.”

[johnwintersx]

John wasn’t sure how exactly he got himself intro situations like these but somehow he managed to quite often - maybe he was being too nice constantly after all. Right now though, the art professor was trying his best to somehow navigate carrying several bags of supplies along with a cup holder that held two cups of coffee to his car. One of them had been meant for his co-worker who had, unfortunately, let him know after he’d already been on the go, that she wasn’t coming to help him out which left him to his own devices. He would’ve been fine, completely fine, if it hadn’t been for the pesky little tremor in his right hand, a reminder of his accident that seemed to sneak up on him at the most impractical times, just like it was right now. Having lived with it for years, John was able to tell when it’d start up by now so he was quick to seek out the first person that didn’t look like they were going to turn down his request. “Excuse me,” he called over, shooting them a helpless smile. “Would you mind holding this for me for just one second?” The Englishman asked hopefully, his brows furrowed as he gave an awkward chuckle, nodding at the coffees. “I have to somehow rearrange this whole…shebang without dropping my sacred ray of hope for the day.”

[stella-hayes]

It had been a long, exhausting, hot, sticky day. Desperate for some new material, some kind of inspiration to hit, Stella had been up with the sun, going back to basics with a notebook and pencil and earbuds stuffed in both ears. She’d managed to scratch out something resembling a decent article in a secluded spot in the park. In theory, it would have been a peaceful idea, a serene place to get into the writer mindset. In practice, it was just hot and there was grass sticking to her ass and the little frizzy hairs around her head looked like tiny Medusa hair snakes and honestly, she just needed a coffee and, like, six months of hibernation. But first, coffee.

She’d tucked her notebook securely into her purse and was headed in the direction of the coffee shop when she heard him. She wasn’t proud to admit that she almost considered pretending she hadn’t heard him, but when she turned to take in the scene, she couldn’t deny this man his caffeine fix. “Of course. I know exactly what you mean,” she said, quickly making her way over to him and holding out her hands to take on some of his burden. Shamelessly nosy, she glanced down at the contents of the bags and then looked back up at him. “Trying to give Bob Ross a run for his money?”

[lickcelebpits]

[crosspression]

[stella-hayes]

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met

[stella-hayes]

cooper-ward·:

“Don’t talk shit about The Wiggles- ‘Fruit Salad’ is a jam and everyone knows it,” he argued back, stifling a smile. Coop sat back and listened as she spoke; he didn’t know too much about the ins and outs of the music industry so he took her word for everything. “It’s not my fault your eyebrows look like they could kill me,” he shot a quick wink at her. “Square one? Don’t be like that, babe,” he reached for her hand, “But if you don’t mind telling me, how was I doing before my little comment?”

Stella leveled him with a pair of narrowed eyes. “You’re such a kindergarten teacher.” She stifled a smile of her own before lifting her arm in a single shouldered shrug and looking own at the hand that was now on top of hers. “You were...” she trailed off, pursing her lips as she pretended to consider. “You were probably sitting at a solid eight out of ten. And my, how the mighty have fallen,” she teased.

[stella-hayes]

larkshepherd·:

Lark flushed, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to ramble so much. “I usually don’t have much to say, you just sort of got the receiving end of my nervous word vomit.” Gross, but short… er. The girl at the table was some sort of interviewer; that peaked her interest as she set her binder and coffee on the table, taking the seat across from the girl as she laughed softly and shook her head. “Oh god, no. I’m a florist. Normally I’m only supposed to meet with the bride a few times and then communication goes through the actual wedding planner, but uh, sometimes you get those brides that choose to plan the entire thing themselves, or worse, ones that just can’t seem to let the wedding planner do their jobs, so they’re always calling and showing up. I almost always work on planning the orders outside of the shop just so they aren’t able to find me.” Stella’s comment about her cousin caused a grin to form on Lark’s lips as she looked at the girl with slightly raised eyebrows. “I’m Lark,” She introduced herself quickly, interested in circling back to the ‘interview’ topic. “Who do you usually interview?”

Stella smiled a close lipped smile, trying to stave off the laugh that threatened at the back of her throat. “It’s fine. I like it,” she said honestly. Talking to people and getting them to talk about themselves was always the goal. Stella watched quiet and patiently as the girl took a seat across from her and was rewarded when she spoke again. “A florist? That’s a new one. I like it.” She couldn’t help the laugh at the imagery: frantic brides-to-be running around like clucking chickens with outlandish demands. “I don’t blame you,” she said, shaking her head with a small chuckle. “I was just a guest at my cousin’s wedding and that was stressful enough. I can’t even imagine having to make sure my flowers were the right shade of off-white or in full bloom or whatever. Honestly, I don’t know what it takes to be a florist, especially one that provides flowers for weddings, but I can’t imagine it’s easy.” 

With the attention shifted back onto Stella, she sat up a little straighter, a small impressed smile shot in Lark’s direction for expertly diverting the conversation back into the direction she wanted it to go. It was a professional move she used on the regular. “I’m a music journalist. Or, at least, I’m trying to be. I like to sit down and talk with musicians, watch their shows, see what kind of energy they pull from the crowd. There’s this fine line between writing what reads like a research paper and a fun, informative article, which is where I’m at right now. I’m stuck in an inspirationless rut.” She sighed dramatically before looking back at the girl across from her-- Lark was her name. “Okay, Lark. So since this is what you signed up for by sitting down, I’ve got a hard hitting question for you: if there was a jukebox here in this coffee shop with every song you could possibly imagine, what would you play first?”

[twtarchive]

[stella-hayes]

jesse-walker·:

“Anyone into that sort of thing is the type of people you don’t want to be sitting with,” Jesse quipped as he stood in front of the vacant chair he would later sit in. “It starts with the names then the jobs, pretty soon you’re talking about your 401k and where you plan to retire. We could even try something better,” he began, pausing to take a sip of his coffee with one too many espresso shots to be considered healthy. “We don’t even do names. We just sit here ignoring each other too caught up in our laptops and phones? What do you say? Good deal?” Though before Jesse even bothered to hear a reply from the woman he had taken a seat with his phone placed on the table top and coffee adjacent to the device. Generally, that is exactly what anyone would do, fall into this sense of security with their screen in front of them but since he had brought it up, well it seemed to be the last thing Jesse actually wanted to do. Rather as he sat there tapping his foot against the ground his brown eyes ventured elsewhere, people watching just before he leaned closer across the table to ask the stranger a very pressing question. “You wanna play a little game?”

“I wholeheartedly disagree with you,” Stella returned, her lips curling up at the corners. “I’m less interested in retirement plans or 401ks and way more into what makes a person tick.” She gave herself a moment to let her eyes rove brazenly over her new companion, even as he more or less wrote off any possibility of giving any parts of himself away, taking the seat she’d offered and slipping into Facebook land, or whatever it was he was mindlessly scrolling through.

With a sigh, she glanced back at her laptop and worried the skin of her bottom lip with her teeth. She had no words for the story she was trying to write and she’d been hoping this would serve as a worthy distraction. So when his voice sounded again from across the table, Stella raised a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Maybe. What kind of game are we talking?”

[stella-hayes]

adrianrourke·:

“It’s Adrian Rourke, actually,” Adrian responded in jest, extending his hand. “No, unfortunately, the business cards stay in the office,” he added, enjoying his banter with the woman. “Well then, instead of me trying to figure you out, how about you tell me about yourself? We can start with your name,” he suggested, smiling at her and wondering if she’d play along.

Stella glanced down at the hand extended in her direction before cutting her eyes back to his. “Stella Hayes,” she said finally, slipping her hand into his and giving it a firm shake, her lips curling into a coy smile. “So, did you get into psychology because you have a ‘call me doctor’ kink? Or do you have a thing for dirty laundry?”

[stella-hayes]

dallasstarling·:

She just wanted an iced coffee. It had seemed so simple in the moment — and she had made the naive mistake of thinking the cafe would be relatively empty. But after waiting in line for what seemed like an hour (it had been less than fifteen minutes — but Dallas was running on fumes a serious lack of caffeine made her function on an entirely new timetable.) When she finally reached the front of line, she was considering asking the barista if they’d considered selling a coffee IV for the severely sleep deprived. Instead, she settled for ordering the biggest size they offered and asking for an extra shot of espresso. As if a larger amount could possibly bring the half-asleep girl back to life any faster. By the time she received her order, she wrapped both hands around the cup and actually pouted at the lack of available seating options. Amid her near tantrum, she spotted a familiar face comfortably stationed at one of the tables. Making her way over, she pulled up a seat the moment it was offered, easy grin curving her lips. “Oooh. Bring ‘em on. And make them good. I’ll get us started.” She said, playful edge to her tone as she straightened ‘professionally.’ “Let’s see… I’m a Libra, even if I don’t really understand what that’s supposed to mean. I like long walks on the beach, but I’m a terrible swimmer. Seriously, could drown in a puddle level terrible. When I was a kid, I either wanted to be an Eagles quarterback, an astronaut, or a dogwalker.” She said, tapping her palms on the table. “How’d I do?” She asked, wrinkling her nose. If anyone knew Dallas’ fairly unrealistic childhood aspirations, it was Stella — the only witness to her attempt at taking flight in ‘zero gravity’ after watching Armageddon for the 50th time. Except her zero gravity launch point was Dallas’ garage roof, and as she learned that day, she was not, to her own dismay, capable of flight. At least she got a cool cast out of the deal.

The corresponding smile as Dallas took a seat across from her was wide and genuine. Leaning forward across the table and resting her chin in her hands, Stella quirked a brow. “Keep going,” she drawled, low and playfully flirty. “You’re checking all my boxes.”

Deflating a little on a wistful sigh, Stella sat back in her chair with a half glance at her computer as it sat there with it’s mostly blank Word document, mocking her. Choosing not to simmer in all the reasons why she was lacking in inspiration and instead spending most of her time googling Reid, (and sidenote: it should be illegal to Google your ex and get recent results) she focused her attention on her friend instead. “Now, I’ll just need your bank account number and the last four digits of your social and we should be good.” She grinned. “What are you up to today?”

[cassandraxwilson]

Text Starters!

Send ✉ for an 2 AM text Send ✘ for an unsent text Send ☠ for a threatening message Send ❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message Send ♣ for a drunk message

[murphysmusic-deactivated2020072]

[stella-hayes]

Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity? I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner It was a slap in the face How quickly I was replaced And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?

[reputing-deactivated20231019]

[stella-hayes]

dexrcmirez·:

“Self-professed up-and-coming music blog,” Dex repeated with a nod,a grin playing on his lips at her use of verbiage. “You have enough juice inthat tank to start up your own self-professed up-and-coming music blog, no?” heasked, always one to offer encouragement even if it wasn’t exactly needed. “Andyou do have a professional photographer in your arsenal who would absolutelyassist with the website – but ignore me, it’s none of my business,” his handspulled up in surrender as he smirked away his offer. “Just got in a few daysago – in the planning phase of my contract with Patagonia; lots of meetings beforethey start sending me hiking up mountaintops. Just living the dream,” helaughed, still incredulous of the fact that this was his life. Getting paid to travel was something people dreamed about doing, andeven if travel itself was taxing, everything he’d been able to witness thus farmade it all so worth it. He didn’t take a single second of it for granted. “Okay,so. How have you been? Really?”

Stella sighed dreamily as Dex plowed through things she’d fantasized about so many times. “I am,” she said slowly. “But that takes time, building up a following, drawing in advertisers. But if I’m giving all my best stuff away for free, then I’m not making any money.” She pointed at him. “And I know the obvious answer here is to get a waitressing job or something, but I won’t do it. I know me. Too much time will go by, I’ll get complacent, amount to absolutely nothing, and the world will burn, Dex. Burn.” She widened her eyes with mock exaggeration and held it for a beat before a smile stretched across her face. “Damn it, it’s good to see you. And being all professional and shit. I love it. I’m so proud of you.” 

Her smile held for only a half-second past his question and it fell as she blew out a long suffering sigh. As if a gift from God himself, the bartender chose that moment to return with their drinks. She shot him a thankful glance before taking several very large gulps from her beer. Turning back to Dex, she shrugged. “I’m living with my parents, so that’s a thing. I keep trying to convince myself that I’m not bitter about it, but I am. And that’s all I want to talk about me right now.” She tilted her head as she gave him an appreciative once over. “What do you say? Wanna get a little trashed and possibly make bad decisions with me? For old times’ sake?”

[stella-hayes]

cooper-ward·:

“Oof, first off, I would never show my kids the Dave Matthews Band- they don’t deserve that type of punishment,” he wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear any more about her music taste after that, but Cooper figured he could put up with it if it meant he could continue to look at her. “What’s that magazine for girls? J-14? Do they have music columns?” He was genuinely curious, but had never picked up one of those before. He didn’t feel the need to cover his bedroom in Jonas Brothers posters as a kid. “Yeah? Well, since you asked…your eyebrows are killer and your body…,” he whistled and pointed his finger up and down, “your body is lookin’ tight! I wouldn’t mind seein’  you do a full 360 to get the whole view.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed, feeling on the defensive. Writing was simultaneously the thing she was most confident in and the thing that made her feel most vulnerable and it was impossible to not be at least a little offended. “For the record, I’d write about the Wiggles if the price was right. Not that Dave Matthews Band is even that bad-- not necessarily the kind of music I’d write about without the promise of compensation-- but still. But Rolling Stone is a little more my scene. Can I be one of the cool kids now?” She batted her lashes, marinating a little in the compliments even though it didn’t do much to settle the sudden rush of insecurity. “Complimenting my eyebrows, huh? Pulling out the big guns today. It’s too bad we’re back to square one with that little J-14 comment.”

[stella-hayes]

nathangarrett·:

“Also a good point,” Nathan huffed. That kind of life definitely sounded more like it. Granted, Nathan was sure that sometimes he overdid it when it came to wallowing in his self-pity but then again, he’d never envisioned this life for himself. He sighed, taking another sip of his drink before looking back at her. “Yeah and if you’re not then people think you’re just doing it all for fun. As if you weren’t working your ass off every day to get there,” Nathan added, finishing his drink with a shake of his head. It wasn’t often that he indulged in his bitterness like this but every now and then, he couldn’t help it. Not when he’d been working yet another long day.

He also couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the woman’s words and he was quick to shake his head. “Don’t say it like that. You’re not a loser. You’re young…still figuring yourself out and shit,” Nathan said. “I can’t even use that excuse anymore because – in case my bad back didn’t give it away – I’m old,” he told her with a snort. “That makes two of us though…cheers to that,” Nathan said, grinning now and his eyes a little lighter thanks to being able to share his worries with some good company.

There were thousands of arguments on her lips. She wasn’t figuring anything out. She’d had a vision for her future since she was ten years old and she’d been within reach of it, had her hands clasped almost all the way around it, just to let it go at the last moment to trail along behind some guy like an abandoned puppy. And okay, so it hadn’t been just some guy but still. She was living the cautionary tale about what happens when you trade in your dreams for a man.

But she wasn’t about to dump all that on him, so instead she scrutinized him as if she’d never seen him before, eyes growing wide as she took him in. “You know, you’re right, Those wrinkles. And that gray hair? Don’t even get me started. What are you, like sixty? Seventy?” She grinned, teasing. “And hey, I know your mind is kind of going, but any new musicians come through here recently? I’m desperate for something fresh. Writer’s block is a bitch.”

[stella-hayes]

callantxt·:

     “I was going to sit here anyway,” Callan says with a smile. He has a large coffee in one hand and a book in his other. To be honest, Callan would much prefer to sit alone, but he wouldn’t hear the end of it from both Stella and Elliot if he tried that. Callan sat down across from her and took a drink from his coffee. “Are you working?” 

“Well then, by all means,” Stella shot back with a smirk and a nod at the empty chair across from her. It wasn’t like Stella was a jealous person. Well, okay, that was a lie: she was almost always ruled by her emotions and she liked Callan just fine. It was just weird navigating her old best friend’s new best friend. He was the keeper of all those secrets now. He was the one who got the phone calls in the middle of the night. It was just strange territory that she hadn’t quite learned how to navigate yet.

His question had her eyes cutting back to her laptop, the cursor blinking tauntingly back at her before shaking her head. “Trying to. But something about it just isn’t flowing right. I feel like I’m writing an essay for school or something.” She glanced purposefully down at his book, ready to throw the spotlight off her inability to find inspiration. “What are you reading?”