#manupropia

[alcrescendoarch]

it isn't hard to spot him , hero hair on display from his spot at his usual table at the grill . there was no use in trying to sneak up on him if anyone would be able to see her coming , it was him . instead , she simply sauntered over , golden curls bobbing along as she slid into the chair across from him . " so , " she started , resting her chin on her hands . " what's mr . broody vampire got on his mind today ? "

@manupropria

[krys4lis]

✉️ ➡ @manupropria ( camila ), never let other people tell you whether your work has value.

there were so many scathing and self-protecting responses i could've given to that statement, easy for you to say or funny, considering your husband is the vain of my songwriting self-esteem being some examples fresh off the top of my head. but as much of a basket case as everyone perceived me to be (and, most usually, with good reason), i could also spot a genuinely good person when i saw one. probably by dint of countlessly stumbling onto the cruel and horrible opposite. that's why a rarity in my character ocurred, and i bit my instinctually poisonous, sarcastic tongue in benefit of smiling a soft, appreciative grin. it was unnecessarily bitter to not meet such compassion with a minimum of sympathy, specially after inviting me into her own house for this party, against every one of billy's wishes. speak of the devil... “ thanks, camila. billy's lucky to have you. i guess that's you get, coming from a place where people care if you live or die out in the world: a pure, resentment-free heart. wish all of us could relate. ” hell, i wish i could relate.

[krys4lis]

✉️ ➡ @manupropria ( billy ), end of fucking story.

mystification takes my defiant features by storm, as i feel like i'm banging my head against the same brick wall over and over again by even attempting to make music with him. and no one was even trying to put a gun against my head to stand through the same ol' egomaniacal rock-star shit all over again: not like that'd make much of a difference anyway. daisy jones didn't do anything she didn't want to do. margaret, the scared little kid that only wanted her ideas to be recognized and her voice to be heard, was a whole other story. “ when are you going to get it through your fucking skull, billy? what you say doesn't just go anymore. you tried your 1950's marriage is bliss approach, and guess what, it didn't work. that's why teddy brought me here, to try and breathe some fucking life back into this band, so if i say that's a shitty lyric, that's a shitty lyric, end of fucking story. we work around it, and write a damn great song ― or isn't that what you want? ”

it made my hair stand up sometimes, to clash like this with billy. it was unsettling not because it was a confrontation, since chaos has been my bread and butter ever since i can remember, but because it was like looking straight into a mirror: i figure that's how other people feel dealing with myself. this frustration, desperation for some reasonability. billy and i are flame-like people, burning either in hurt or passion and forever flickering threatingly to burn everything around us, but i doubt we have any choice in the matter. it's just how are built. which is exactly why it disturbed me so much to see him be so painfully vapid and restrained. “ now, are you gonna tell me what the fuck you're actually trying to say here or am i gonna have to guess by ripping through a hundred layers of unnecessary fluff? 'cause i don't have all day. ”