CHRISTINE DAAfor Giovanni !

🪐 — CHRISTINE DAAÉ  for  giovanni !

he relents and she sighs in relief  ──────happily drawn into his side with a smile, melting into his side like butter on a warm pancake, burying a nod into his shirt alongside a soft-spoken yes. arms wrap about his waist, fingers slipping between cotton and jeans to graze golden skin, the warmth a comfort she could not help but indulge in as she speaks softly, a breath above a whisper.    ❝  ──────  maybe just a bit of fresh air? we don’t have to go too far.  ❞

  THERE’S STILL ANGER  that simmers beneath the surface, giovanni’s gaze easily clearing her head of ringlets to cast a dark glare at the man who had offered such despicable commentary. he wants to memorize the bastard’s face, just in case he ever runs into him somewhere without christine there to hold him back. but he cannot stay in the rage for long, not with her fingertips slipping cleverly beneath the hem of his worn t-shirt to brush over his skin. her touch is minuscule  &  gentle,  &  yet it commands his full attention, the force of such a small point of contact enough to toppling him, if he’d let it. giovanni is powerless to resist her wishes, releasing the anger with a heavy sigh  &  turning toward the door.  yet he still keeps her shielded from the crowd with his body as they make for the exit.  ❝ kinda a run-down little place anyway, ❞  he says, arm stubbornly refusing to fall from her shoulders even as they step outside.  ❝ i think my girl deserves better. ❞

“I’m definitely not your sister.”     ↳ Rachel McAdams as Sigrit in “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” (2020)

🪐 — EDWARD TEACH  for  stede ! 

he hasn’t been avoiding stede all day,   not exactly.  not by choice,  at least.  it’s just that they haven’t managed to get a quiet moment to themselves in what feels like entirely too long,  and they’re both still trying to navigate their newfound relationship in the wake of stede’s return  —  while having to deal with the consequences of edward’s broken hearted rampage on top of that.  it has been a messy ordeal from all sides,  obviously.  it still kind of is,  because although it’s getting better the process is slow and the road not void of obstacles.

edward waits until it’s nearly sunset,  with the rest of the crew long gone to find some well earned merriment across nassau,  before securing a hold on stede’s hand and all but dragging him towards his restored quarters on the revenge.  contrary to this behavior,  however,  he halts his movements once they are inside.   ❛  hey.  ❜   back to the door,  edward slants a sheepish look stede’s way.  he is wearing his leather trousers,  but his torso is covered by one of stede’s white linen shirts  (   taken from the untouched secret wardrobe,  of course   ),  and his lips are upturned,  albeit tentatively.  as if he’s learning how to do this all over again.  how to be around stede again,  without either clawing at his clothes as if he’s afraid the man might disappear any second,  or arguing it through until he is exhausted and apologies fall from his lips like rain drops,  heavy and desperate.

❛  c'mere.  ❜   he takes him to the couch,  hand still linked with his own.   ❛  there’s some serious stuff i need to tell you.  promise you won't  —  you can’t stop me until i’m done,  alright?  ❜   he waits for confirmation,  and the next words out of his mouth come quieter,  stifled.  he’s very much trying to find a way to make stede understand what’s going on in his mind.  and trying not to hurt him in the process,  too.

❛  i need to go away for a while.  on my own.  i’m thinking about taking the queen anne and just enough men to make sure she doesn’t fall apart on me.  it’s been a while,  so i’m gonna have to check that she’s ready for open sea again,  but it’s not  —  you’ve done nothing wrong,  i need you to believe me on that.  i said you made me happy,  an’ you still do.  ❜   edward frees him of his grasp at last, only to cradle stede’s face with both hands. he does nothing but brush his thumbs across stede’s skin for a while, hoping to provide more reassurance this way, but he grows restless before long and a concerned frown makes an appearance on his forehead.   ❛  stede?  talk to me,  love.  ❜

     THE CREW GONE ASHORE  served twofold purposes : both to bring the men’s morale up with a well-deserved break,  &  to give edward  &  himself some proper time alone aboard the revenge for the first time since stede had finally caught up to him. it was still not as it had been before between them  —  &  perhaps it never would be again  —  but it was shifting into something else now, something more honest.  &  stede is eager to move past the pain, to make his amends  &  let time do its work healing the wounds they had all caused.                         there are nerves that prickle to life low in his gut when edward finds him at sunset  —  a vision to behold in both leather  &  linen  —  &  pulls him toward their quarters, the door falling decisively closed behind them. stede doesn’t know what’s coming next for them, but he trusts ed. with his life, he trusts him. but edward doesn’t lean in to kiss him, doesn’t try to touch him, aside from where their fingers are entwined.  ( he still hasn’t, not since that first night he’d been back,  &  stede honestly can’t decide if he’s grateful or disappointed for his hesitance. )  instead, edward leads him by the hand to the sofa, sits them there together  &  makes stede agree to listen to whatever it is he has to say.  serious stuff.  &  the butterflies in his stomach suddenly turn sharp, fear warning him that this is the moment ed leaves him after all. but still he nods, his eyes locked onto his beloved’s face. no matter what he has to say, stede will face it.  &  his eyes are steady, though he cannot entirely stop his hand from curling tighter around edward’s when he begins to speak.       need to go away for awhile.  taking the queen anne.  ready for open sea again.  stede hears the important parts, but some of the words in between come a bit muffled through the sudden rush of blood in his ears, his heart pounding violently in his chest. stede feels his lip quiver. he can’t keep his promise ; he can’t face this.  &  his head drops, eyes falling to hide how saltwater wells in their corners. but there are other words, too.  done nothing wrong.  made me happy.  you still do.  &  stede clings to them as debris in a storm, repeats them to himself a few times, hoping they are enough to keep himself from breaking apart.                                        he has to choke back a soft whimper when edward takes his hands away, but they return quickly to cup his face instead. his fingers are strong yet gentle, thumb tracing over his cheek. it feels nice,  &  stede lets himself lean into the touch. just in case it’s taken away, he wants to remember this feeling.  but it’s the gentle way that edward says his name, calls him love  that finally calls him back, watery eyes fluttering open.  ❝ i’m —  i’m here. still here. ❞  they both are.  &  stede forces himself to draw a slow breath, one of his hands curling around ed’s wrist to steady himself before he responds.  ❝ so. i’m afraid i still need you to help me understand, my darling.  you’re leaving.  but ...  you’ll be coming back, right ? ❞  &  there is a pause, but only a brief one, before he adds, ❝ &  — why are you going ?  did you say ? ❞

🪐 — EDWARD TEAGUE​  for  sarah !

     “Oh?” Presumably, she had just seen him attempt to assemble a trumpet. An endeavor that had taken him far longer than it should have- he still wasn’t sure if he had done it right. Teague awkwardly gripped the instrument. Give him a violin or even a set of drums and he could eventually figure things out. These brass instruments were another beast entirely. The mechanics of the mouthpiece alone was a nightmare. Still, Teague was determined to figure this out for no other reason than because he had little choice. Of course, he couldn’t do that with some nosey teenager breathing down his neck. Teague shrugged and turned away refocusing on the trumpet. “ The bell is about to ring. Go to class. ”

   SHE DOESN’T EVEN PLAY BRASS,  but sarah can still tell that the finger valves are upside-down on the trumpet the new band teacher is holding.  ❝ i’m pretty sure that front valve-slide goes in the other way, ❞  she says, a brow quirked curiously. mr. teague, as the principal had introduced him on the first day of band class, had so far defied all her expectations of what a band teacher would be like, barely even seeming to care about their marching formations or their symphonic arrangement. but when sarah had slipped into the music room after third period, intending to retrieve her sheet music so that she could run through the most challenging bits over her lunch period, she hadn’t expected to find him trying  &  failing to assemble one of the horns.  ❝ you sure you don’t want a hand ?  kinda looks like you’re struggling over there, mr. t. ❞  &  she smiles slightly, a tiny signal that his secret is safe with her  —  sarah may be a little weird, but she’s no snitch.  ❝ it’s just my lunch now, anyways. ❞

🪐 — muse edits   +  giovanni di carlo                 pls do not rblg !

🪐 — some lil hc’s regarding giovanni’s band :

●   gio  &  brian are connected oc’s of mine that are in the same band, but it’s gio’s band. gio started it,  &  he cares a lot more about it. he originally taught brian how to play bass as a temporary fill-in for little local gigs  &  brian just kind of stuck around. ●  gio writes most of the actual music, although the drummer, shane ( who is also an oc of mine, but he’s not currently being written on tumblr ), is actually the best at lyric structure, so he does a lot of the lyrics. brian does not help with writing, he just shows up to practice  &  plays what gio tells him. ●  their musical style is straight up punk rock, but there’s some influence from classic blues as well  — specifically in gio’s guitar melodies. ●  gio's lyrics are usually pretty aggressive  &  political. very anarcho-punk. shane’s lyrics are softer, usually more poetic. if you know the boys, you can always tell who wrote which bits.  ●  the band doesn’t have a name. well, it does, but it changes every few months, so pretty much no one knows what it is at any given moment. gio thinks it has to be the perfect name if they’re going to “make it,”  &  always finds a reason to drop every name they try before too long. this is running joke between the members, because how are they supposed to get anywhere without name recognition. eventually they will settle on a name, but stay tuned as to what it is, as gio just hasn’t decided yet.  i think when he does, it will be something that is a subtle honorary reference to his late younger brother, damiano. ● gio sings at gigs, but he doesn’t actually want to be vocalist for the long term. he feels he’s only mediocre at singing, so he’d really rather just lead on guitar. the band is perpetually looking for a permanent singer, which is also something of a joke between the members.