#((I had to dig through a lot and search for bands and artists so I could get a clearer picture across))

[neverxalone]

//rock band!AU where Nozomi is in an indie band together with Kon, Ururu, Jinta and Karin B))

Send me an AU idea you have for my muse and I’ll give you my headcanons and/or thoughts about it

((Alrighty! Nozomi having a musical path in life was something that crossed my mind every now and then, but I never thought of her being in a full-fledged band! Now that you mentioned it, I cannot help but think what kind of style her band would play. 

Let’s have a rundown on the musical background of each member first:

Nozomi has a sentimental and emotional music taste. She digs stuff with lots of 808s and expressive vocals. Stuff like Linkin Park, Smrtdeath, and Lil Lotus. Karin was the one who got her into emo trap when she showed her Hideyoshi’s Kudaranai.

Karin is more into straightforward trap/hip hop like KOHH and Jin Dogg 

Ururu is the one we could say has a true knack for indie and alternative artists, being into artists like Daoko and Frederic, to name a few.

I see Jinta and Kon having a rowdier preference-- say, stuff like Crossfaith,  Paledusk, and Crystal Lake when it comes to Jinta and more party-oriented stuff like P.O.D and Limp Bizkit when it comes to Kon! 

Their lineup would be as follows:  Jinta- drums  Kon- bass (he’ll be going wild with noodling the basslines) Ururu- guitars Karin- keyboards/samples/programming Nozomi- vocals 

So you might be wondering, how do these people with their totally different music tastes come together to create a band? What kind of genre would they play? 

The band would be called BLURRING FROM REALITY. Given that they’re all into electronic and hiphop-influenced artists in one form or another, the style they would play would be something close to electronic rock akin to Linkin Park, particularly on their Hybrid Theory up to Living Things albums, Acme, and zeroHz. There would be heavy usage of synth lines backed by driving chords, syncopation, and octave leads. 

Surprisingly, Nozomi has a rather formidable stage persona contrary to her typically apprehensive self. It helped with the gathering of more listeners when the people who knew her from her Instagram and other SNS checked the band out.

Nozomi utilizes a rather raw and melancholic vocal style influenced by Juno from Blind Owl , but she cannot create screams as effectively as her, nor does she really want to. (Nozomi isn’t as keen on harsh vocals as Jinta is) 

There are also instances where they do emo-style ballads and electronic/trap songs (in which Karin takes care of creating the beat and rapping, and Nozomi sings)

@hirako5hinji

[watchmegetobsessed]

I Hear A Symphony - Harry Styles

Extra blurb for Floating Through Space!

a/n: this idea came to me out of the blue and i suck at controling myself so i just had to write it! it’s an extra in the universe of FTS, just a little moment for our power couple in their life after the grammys!

the fic again contains an already existing song, credits to the artist, it’s going to be linked in the right place, make sure to listen to it when you see the vid!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: ~2k

masterlist

It’s been two weeks since the first time Harry told you he loved you. Fourteen entire days since the man you’ve been with these past three months told you he loved you, not just with his actions but with his words as well.

It happened so randomly, so out of the blue. You were at his place and following a long and dreading day the two of you decided to have a shower together. He asked if he could wash your hair and you enjoyed the way his fingers massaged your scalp, the intimacy of such a simple yet heartwarming moment ending the day on a wonderful note.

As the water was washing away the soap of your body he leaned down, captured your lips in a simple kiss before the words fell from his lips.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes searching for yours as first you looked down at the floor before your gaze meeting his, lips parted, heart pounding in your chest.

You wanted to say it back, it was on the tip of your tongue, but no word came out your mouth, a slight panic rushing through your senses from his confession. So you pulled him down and kissed him hard, hoping he can feel that you meant to say it, but you weren’t ready to actually form the words just yet.

It’s been eating you away for so long, because the feeling has been there for a long time, probably since the Grammy’s when the two of you sang your heart out in your duet, but your body is plotting against your mind, not letting you say it the way you want to. But you feel like the moment has come and being the dramatic artist that you are, you want it to be big. Because Harry deserves a grandiose romantic gesture.

You’ve been working on your new album for a while now, but needless to say that when you met Harry, you wrote quite a few songs about him that demanded place on your upcoming record, but so far you haven’t shown him any of them and you have a major reason for that.

The very first one you started writing about him turned out to be a massive song. Not because it has a full ballad as the lyrics, it barely have just a few verses. It’s because what started as just a simple melody for the piano soon turned into a monumental symphony with a full symphonic band and you decided to compose the entire melody, to all of the instruments yourself, because it was the only way the song would feel entirely yours. And Harry’s.

Recordings have been going on for weeks just for this one song, because you needed it to be absolutely perfect since it’s been in consideration to be the title of the album. Now the song is done and you are ready to show it to Harry and finally tell him how you really feel about him.

Sitting at your dining table you watch him type out an email to Jeff, eyebrows furrowed as he is still chewing on the last bit of his dinner. His unruly curls are covering his forehead and you smile to yourself as you reach over and push them back, making him glance up at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, putting his phone away to turn all his attention to you.

“You,” you tell him, tilting your head to the side.

“Me? And why is that?” he smirks, grabbing your hand before you could pull it back and bringing it to his mouth he gently kisses your knuckles.

“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” you ask, ignoring his question.

“I’m guessing you are about to tell me,” he smirks, letting go of your hand so he can rest his chin in his palms. “What were you thinking about?”

“Would you like to come to my recording session?” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up from surprise, he surely wasn’t expecting this.

“You want me there?” He knows how you like to keep your works to yourself until you feel comfortable enough to show it to someone outside of your little team. You’ve only shared with him bits and bites of songs, nothing major, so this invitation is clearly a big deal for the both of you.

“Yes. I want… I have something to show you.”

He could tease you about finally showing him something, or crack a joke about being so into him that you wrote a song about him, but he doesn’t do anything of that sort. Instead, he just smiles back at you with so much adoration and love filling his eyes, it could make your chest burst. Leaning closer he kisses your lips softly before pecking the tip of your nose as well.

“Would love to join you.”

You hold onto Harry’s hand for dear life on your way to the studio where you’re going to have your final recording of the song. His song. A whole orchestra is going to be playing for you and while you’ve recorded the song in layers before, today you’re gonna perform it all together for the first time, every instrument playing at the same time as you sing. You really wanted to have a version of this sort, so you know what it’ll sound like when you perform it later with the prerecorded music.

You can tell that Harry is just as excited as you are, but he is keeping it bottled inside, not bugging you about what he is about to hear. He knows it’s going to be about him, you wouldn’t want to show him if it wasn’t.

When you pass by several studios and head to the grand room, the only place that fits the whole orchestra in it at the same time, Harry seems to be growing curious, but still doesn’t question anything, just follows you silently.

“Hello everyone!” you call out upon walking into the room, the majority of the band is already there, greeting you happily, especially when they see who you’re with. “Um, Harry is going to join us for the recording, hope it’s alright,” you announce with a nervous chuckle and you get a few knowing looks. Everyone in the room knows it’s about him, you’ve been an item publicly long enough and it’s not a hard task to put two and two together.

Harry waves around with a few short hellos and how are you’s as he takes a seat at the front of the room, facing the orchestra and essentially, you when you’ll be singing. You sit next to him and before the recording starts, you feel like you owe a few words for him.

“I’ve been working on this song for… the longest, because it started with just a piano, but then I kept adding more and more until it grew into a whole orchestra,” you admit chuckling and it brings a smirk to his lips as well, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Then you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves for the next part you’re about to tell him. “Two weeks ago you… told me you loved me and… I’m sorry for never saying it back…”

“I didn’t expect you to,” he speaks up softly. “I didn’t say it to hear you say it back. I know it takes you a lot to figure out your feelings, Y/N.”

“But I have them figured out,” you reply. “I just…” You take a deep breath, feeling yourself getting emotional already. “This song is the first one I wrote about you.”

“The first? So there’s more?” he asks with a small smirk.

“Of course,” you admit chuckling. “But this one… is the most important one. So I want you to hear it.”

Harry nods and doesn’t question you about never finishing your trail of thoughts about your feelings. He just lets you do your thing knowing that it’ll become a whole sooner or later.

Leaning in you kiss him shortly before you stand up and join all the incredible musicians and get ready for the recording. Harry gets a headset so he can hear everything clearly and when everyone is settled, the recording starts. The song kicks out with you singing acapella.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you.”

Then the piano starts playing and eventually the violins join softly before you start singing the second verse, making the melody flow perfectly. You keep your eyes off of Harry, but you can feel his intense stare on you as he listens.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore. You are my beautiful, by far our flaws are who we really are."

The piano and the violins continue playing, getting more and more dynamic with each played note and you feel a shudder run down your spine. The whole song starts to grow as the wind instruments join in, slowly pulling the melody up to its peek that’s about to come soon. And then it happens. Your eyes find Harry’s when you start to sing the next verse, the whole orchestra playing behind you at its fullest.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. You took my broken melody and now I hear a symphony…”

The melody continues as you add some vocals, singing your whole heart and soul out, your eyes still set on Harry before suddenly, the instruments cut out and you sing your last line with just the piano playing the last few chords along with you.

“And now I hear a symphony.”

The room grows quiet and your chest is heaving, vision blurry as you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up. Your emotions washed over you, sweeping you off your feet and now your bare soul is lying in front of Harry’s feet who is still staring at you frozen.

At first you panic at his lack of reaction, but then you see him wipe his eyes and you realize he is crying. Just as you step off the podium and head in his way, he takes his headset off and starts walking in your way and the whole orchestra start cheering and clapping when he envelopes you in his arms, holding you so tight you can barely breathe. You laugh through your tears when he lifts you up and twirls you around in the air before setting you back down and kissing you all over your face, wherever he reaches you. Cupping his face in your hands you pull back a little so you can look into his glistening eyes.

“I love you,” you finally tell him with shaky lips, a weight finally falling off your shoulders and chest now that you’ve said it.

“Oh baby, I love you too,” he smiles, before pulling you in for a kiss that’s soaked by your tears, but by far the sweetest you’ve shared. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you think about the song?” you ask finally pulling away, wiping your tears off your cheeks, not even caring that there is a whole orchestra watching the two of you interact.

“I’m pretty sure this is what they play when you enter Heaven,” he chuckles making you laugh as you smack his chest playfully. “No, but really. It’s brilliant. I’ve never heard anything like this. And having you sing it live for me with the whole orchestra… My mind is blown, baby. It’s going to be hard to top it with anything,” he adds chuckling.

“That was my plan all along,” you admit with a laugh before you pull him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[omegalomania]

Ok honestly fall out boy is so interesting to me bc they’re a very huge example of what would realistically happen if just some dudes who like music got sprung into fame randomly… like they’re one of the biggest modern bands but aside from their actual talent, there’s nothing really “glamorous” or “celebrity” about them, and i don’t mean that in like a “ooh i forget they’re celebs they’re soo different/quirky” kind of way but like in the way that it’s insane seeing the contrast of patrick mentioning in a recent interview that he isn’t on social media/the internet anymore bc he’s paranoid everyone hates him vs the fact that he was literally trending on twitter yesterday bc people love his performance in de:pp… like everyone jokes around about fobs obliviousness to their fame but like that kind of anxiety is realistically exactly what would happen to any normal nerdy shy dude that happened to get thrust into fame for fixating on music… SORRY this is so long winded but your posts got me thinking about this weird lil band again

i think absolutely one of the most endearing things about all of them is that literally none of them know how to be famous and it's still extremely funny to me. they are literally just some guys and they're like oh right We're A Big Famous Band and they always seem surprised to be recognized. like oh my god you guys have been chart-toppers for 20 years you are allowed to have a FRACTION of an ego about it but they literally just dont!

but i think they’re just extremely aware that they were exceptionally lucky, and while they’re certainly all extremely extremely talented dudes, the sad fact is that the industry is constructed in such a way that raw talent is never enough to get you where you need to go. they had grounding and stability that a lot of other up-and-coming artists sadly don’t get, and i think they understand that very well and it has a lot to do with their perpetual surprise that people still care about them.

this ask reminded me of something i saw posted forever and ever ago on the fall out boy subreddit (which is a godless joyless place and i do not recommend frequenting it, except that it does, on occasion, serve as a good source for news update and the like) and i had to dig through literal years’ worth of ancient plurks to find it again, but i DID because it still rings true to me today:

transcript of the image, with some emphasis by me:

“Yes, I’m late 30s and wasn’t particularly into FOB’s early work b/c I saw all 00s pop punk as an extension of the havoc GD/Blink’s popularity on 90s punk, but I was quite aware of Racetraitor, Arma, and Chicago’s cultral moment with the sound in general from 90s message baords. It was easily some of the best challenging-to-enjoy work of that time. I was busy buying jumble lots of obscure East Coast punk, tossing ones with swastikas (yay anti-racist skins, fuck anti-anti racist skins) and mining for gold like a proper grumpy punk teen, so I didn’t listen to them a lot.

But as a child of the early 80s, tenors & hits, I got into FOB years later when they were doing weird top-shelf pop rock. That helped me understand what younger people appreciated about their early stuff.

I rarely get to say this, but searching for a comparison in terms of bands reaching/sustaining their level of success with that kind of shitty basement political punk history... Bad Religion, maybe? BR was absolutely an oddball pop-inspired punk band & they were/are massive given what they discuss, and more so via their label creation. They never really grew much, though. Rancid are great & have a duo at the core. The Clash were exceptional and experimented a lot.

FOB’s presence over the past two decades is just not a thing that is supposed to happen anymore. Couldn’t be happier it worked out for punks managed by guys who are music stories of their own. Knew of jonathan Daniel from The Loveless thanks to a superfan debate coach in the 90s, was overjoyed to hear he was managing Butch Walker in the early 00s. I wasn’t aware of McLynn at the time, but I’ve heard his stuff since and what a house bassists built.”

legitimately i struggle to think of a band like fall out boy in the mainstream. a band with legitimate punk and hardcore roots, who built their way into practically universal recognition, and have remained culturally relevant for literal decades. that’s not a thing that happens a whole lot and it’s not a thing that is meant to happen anymore.

i think it’s one of the reasons it’s easy to look at them as the underdogs, even now. like by just about any metric, they’re not underdogs anymore, but they still manage to feel like kind of an island. there truly is no other band like them on the planet, and i don’t think that there ever will be.

[iam93percentstardust]

hi! i really like your writing and was wondering if you’d recommend other authors that you enjoy or even specific fanfics you like? i’ve only just started getting into the steve/tony fandom and want to follow more people! thank you!

Hi there and welcome! We’re glad to have you here!! 💙

I’m more of an MCU kind of gal myself but if you’re interested in the comics, I highly recommend checking out the below authors and fics:

Living in the Future by Closer: Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

@blossomsinthemist: seriously one of the best smut authors I’ve ever read with lots of feelings, trust me, you won’t regret getting into their works

@sineala: been writing Marvel since approximately 2014 (though if you like their works, it’s worth reading their other stuff as well even if you’re not familiar with the fandom, it’s all that good) and has written a lot of the classics including Like a Comet Streaming On and Slipping off the Page into Your Hands

Stars Fading, but I Linger On, Dear by Chibisquirt: A Soulmate AU where people meet their soulmate in their dreams. Of course, not even that solves all the world's problems, especially if one or more of the soulmates has a secret identity...

MCU and Ambiguous Fandom:

@festiveferret: has written so much and I can pretty much guarantee that you’ve stumbled across something that they’ve written at least once, writes both on tumblr and on ao3 but everything they post on tumblr is also cross-posted to ao3 so you don’t have to go digging through their blog to find ficlets

@no-gorms: has literally the most interesting AUs, I always read whatever is new pretty much the moment it comes out, can promise lots of feelings and happy endings

A Series of Learning Experiences by @riotfalling: In which Tony finds out that his tiny artist boyfriend is not a nice boy. In the best possible way. (Riot doesn’t write much Stevetony but what she does write is amazing)

Heart in Hand by janonny: Or the story where Tony, an Omega, holds a much belated Courting Ceremony. Steve joins up and loses his mind a little.

@maguna-stxrk: writes lots of fluff here on tumblr

@omg-just-peachy: widely acknowledged as the inventor of fluff

@itsallavengers: no longer as active but writes the most heartbreaking angst with a happy ending, you will feel so many things, has written classics like Versions of Reality and Nobody Panic, Everything’s Fine

@aurumacadicus: I’ve said before (I think on the stuckony reclist) that her version of Tony is my favorite but I’m going to say it again: seriously, fantastic Tony

Finding Pack by @naferty: In a world where pack means everything from status to fame to survival and to family, newly pack-less Tony Stark is trying to survive after those he once trusted betrayed him, and starting over by searching for a new pack to take him in, but with his age and status weighing heavily on his shoulders finding someone to take a chance on him might be easier said than done.What pack wanted an old infertile omega in their ranks? Certainly not the famous Avengers pack led by the equally famous Captain. (one day this fic will be finished and when that happens, I will scream for three days straight)

@sabrecmc: hmmm yes, especially check out Celestial Navigation and The Prize (also has an incredibly comprehensive rec blog, @sabrecmcstonyficrecs)

Sunrise by NotEvenCloseToStraight: Nomad is a soldier forced to do Hydra's bidding. When his mission takes him to the castle and to the bed chambers of Prince Antony Stark, Nomad is faced with a choice-- to finish his mission and finally earn his freedom or to save the last piece of his scarred soul and let the beautiful Prince live.Antony is trapped in the Palace, his life controlled by his Uncle, the Sovereign Stane. He yearns for a life beyond the palace walls but when the Nomad breaks into his rooms with blade held at the ready, Antony thinks all is lost--and then the assassin hesitates.Steven and Antony are two souls together in the moonlight, two lives on the cusp of ruin and as the sun rises over the palace, perhaps they will be two kindred spirits, finding freedom in each other's arms.

take my heart clean apart by mistymountainking: Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.

Dear Mr. Fantasy by @pineapplebread: Tony writes letters to his past loves to get over them. They’re all but meaningless by this point, but he keeps them hidden anyways, never to be seen or read by anyone else. Until one day they all mysteriously get sent out.His deepest secrets are revealed and he scrambles to do damage control, striking a deal to enter a fake relationship with Steve Rogers who just wants his ex back. Tony conveniently forgets to mention that the only love letter he still means is the one he wrote to his fake boyfriend.

slipping through the years by often_adamanta: The plane crash and subsequent ice might have killed him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still around, haunting those he cares about. And since the only person who can see him is Tony Stark, death sure isn’t going to be boring.

Insomnia by Scavenge4Dreams: Its 3am. Do you know where your Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist is?

rough enough for love by silkspectred: The first time they had sex was right after their first kiss. Steve dropped to his knees and then Tony reciprocated after making Steve lie down on the bed. The second time it was Steve that initiated it, slow handjobs under the hot spray of the shower, and Tony looked surprised by it. Like it was weird that Steve wanted it. Wanted him.

I’m a Grown-Ass Man by not_applicable: or, 5 Times Steve Carried Tony and 1 Time Tony Didn't Mind. At all.

Containment by D: After Tony ends up severely injured from a surprise attack, triggering a flashback and putting him in the hospital for emergency surgery, the Avengers come together in worry for their friend and teammate and are disquieted by the intensity of Tony’s reaction. Between the flashback and the sedatives, Tony’s mind revisits key moments in his life while the team bands together in support of each other and their injured friend, letting SHIELD handle Tony’s attacker, they remain where they are needed, even if Tony isn’t awake to truly realize this. And through it all, Steve makes a decision that will change things with Tony.

His Fate Will Be Unlearned by scifigrl47: Tony Stark spent his childhood making weapons, filling the hole his father left in the world when he succumbed to alcohol, grief, and his own demons. At the age of fifteen, he ran away from home, and made it as far as MIT before all of his responsibilities caught up to him. Now seventeen, he just wants to finish his degree and escape from everything connected to the Stark name. Steve Rogers crashed into the icy North Atlantic in the 1940's, sacrificing himself to save the world. He never expected to wake up, and now that he has, he's not sure he's glad. The US Army has other plans for him, but for now, Steve is slowly learning to live life in the 21st century, and taking classes at Boston College. He's beginning to suspect that there is no escape. Boston College is on the T's Green Line. MIT is on the Red. The two lines meet at the Park Street Station, and so will Steve and Tony.

The Twice-Told Tale by arysteia: For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

Like Gene Kelly in the Movies by lyra_wing: Everything Tony Stark does is a dance. And it's super confusing for Steve.

bedrock and brick by lyra_wing: Immediate sequel to the movie, wherein Tony builds Avengers Tower. Or plays interior designer, take your pick.

[starlightspecters-vs-alleycatz]

Drama Track: Sake & Soda Pop pt. 1

As a chance to get to know one another, the Harajuku Division joins Kyoto’s team for a chance at friendship.

[Lana’s apartment in Kyoto]

Itsuki: “What time are they supposed to be over here again?”

Lana: “Uhhhh any minute now I think.”

-Itsuki sighed-

Itsuki: “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have another fucking division come over for drinks...aren’t two out of three of them still underage?”

Lana: “Oh relax will ya! We have plenty of things other than booze in this god damn apartment!”

Itsuki: “Yeah yeah I know I know, besides I highly doubt you’d be able to drink a whole bunch of this stuff on your own. It’s not like Kanade can exactly drink with you since she’s still underage.”

Lana: “I don’t think Kanade can stand the smell sometimes.”

Itsuki: “Oh?”

Lana: “Long story...speaking of Kanade, where did she run off to?”

-the girl in question was waiting by the door excited that there were people coming over-

Itsuki: “By the door, hey I’m gonna go out to the balcony and have a smoke”

-Itsuki searches through his pockets only to find out...he forgot his lighter, he still had his cigarettes though-

Itsuki: “Fuck I forgot my lighter!”

Lana:“You can borrow mine”

Itsuki:“Thanks!”

-Lana tosses him the lighter and Itsuki goes out to the balcony to smoke, Lana heads over to Kanade and ruffles her hair gently-

Kanade:“Gah! onee-san your gonna mess up my hair!”

-literally hours earlier Kanade had gotten out of another performance at a more small time theater, she opted to ditch her makeup and keep her hair up in some fancy braid they made her wear-

Lana:“Heh sorry Kana.”

Kanade:“It’s ok.”

-Eventually Lana goes back to making sure everything is ready for the visitors when they arrive-

[rhythmic knocking]

???: Lana-neeee! You in there!

???: Uh I don’t think you should be yelling here Emiko. 😓 This place looks kinda sketchy.

???: Come now she’s just excited, I don’t see any harm in it.

???: It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Lana, it’ll be fun! Oh, but remember no fighting you guys.

-a thunk could be heard as Kanade ran into the wall somehow while trying to get the door open-

Kanade:“Owwww.”

-Lana ended up back at the front door opening it up while Kanade got up off the ground-

Lana:“Why hello there everyone so great to see you! Come in come in!”

Kanade:“Hello!”

Emiko: Suprise!! ~ ☆

Hiroshi: [bows] Thank you so much for having us.

Seiichi: . . Yea. . thanks. . .

Hiroshi: *sighs* Do try to be polite Seiichi.

[they walk in]

Emiko: Lana Lana! [glomps her] We brought you guys stuff!

Emiko: I’m not old enough to drink just yet but I lookie! Look! I brought orange juice!! ~ ☆

[holds bottle like a trophy over her head]

-Lana chuckles trying to catch Emiko when she tackle hugs her, turning her attention to the other two she smiles-

Lana:“Thanks for showing up! Glad y’all brought stuff. We also have drinks and stuff here I think.”

Kanade:“Oh I think we have snack cakes! Let me go get them!”

-Kanade scurries off to the kitchen, around that time Itsuki finally steps back inside tucking his cigarettes back in his pocket and handing the lighter back to Lana-

Itsuki:“Oh hello it’s nice to meet you all, I’m Itsuki.”

Emiko: Aaaaah~ there’s cake! 🤩 I want soooome. ~ 🤤

[she tries to rush to the kitchen but Hiroshi gently grabs her]

Hiroshi: Are you paying attention m’lady?

Emiko: Eh? Oh! I-I’m sorry! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Emiko Akaibara, at your service everyone! ~ ♡ *giggles*

Hiroshi: Hiroshi Sakura, it’s a pleasure. 😉 I wasn’t sure of everyone’s preference but since two of you are adults I bought some sake.

Seiichi: . . .

Emiko: C’mon Seiichi, your turn to say hello.

Seiichi: . . . .

Emiko: Seiichiiiii, please! 🥺🙏

Seiichi: . . . Yo. . . . . I brought soda. . . [pulls his hood over his head]

Emiko: Eh he he 😅 Ok, I’ll take it. Don’t worry, we’ll all have fun together, promise! ~ ☆

Lana:“ooo sake~ I like your style Hiroshi!”

-Itsuki chuckles watching Lana interact with everyone. Turning his attention to Seiichi he flashed him a smile-

Itsuki:“Seiichi is it? No need to be nervous”

Seiichi: U-Um. . . yea I. . . . yea, sure. .

-a thud could be heard from the kitchen followed by a low groan-

Emiko: Lana Lana! [raises her hand] Can I go help Kanade now?

Lana:“Ah sure you can Emiko...uh it seems like she can really use it.”

Emiko: ‘Kay! ~ ☆ I’m coming to save you Kanade!

-Kanade was currently on the floor in the kitchen having been knocked down by a bag of flour-

Emiko: Kanadeee, you need some help—Ah! Oh my gosh! Are you ok! [puts the juice on the counter] Here let me help y—EEP!

[Emiko slips on some flour and falls too]

Emiko: OWIE!! That. . .really hurt. [her eyes start to water]

Kanade:“Oh no Emiko are you ok!?”

-Kanade tries to stand up but falls over once more-

Emiko: *sniff* N-No I’m o-ok, pfffffft! [wipes her tears as she giggles] I-I’m sorry, but you have flour all over you! Here! *sniff* I’ll help you for sure this time!

Kanade:“Owwww...I’m ok”

-Kanade rubs her head-

Lana:“Oh lord what happened!?”

-Lana had found the two of them in the kitchen with flour EVERYWHERE, she could hardly contain her laughter...the scene was honestly quite funny to her-

Kanade:“O-Onee-San! I was trying to get the box of cakes up in one of the cabinets...I climbed on top of the counter to reach them...and the bag fell over and then Emiko fell over and...”

-Lana sighed gently shaking her head, a large grin plastered on her face-

Lana: “You should have had me do it, I’m pretty sure I’m the tallest one here! Cmon let’s get this cleaned up”

Seiichi: Hey, Emiko? You two ok in h—Oh my gosh! What happened in here!

Emiko: He he, hi you guys. 😅

Hiroshi: We heard a crash, are y—Oh! Are you ladies alright? [pulls both of them up] Here let me see.

Emiko: Yea, I’m ok Hiroshi. 😅 My face hurts though, he he he.

[Kanade’s face flushes but Emiko doesn’t notice as she hands over a kitchen rag]

Emiko: You ok Kanade? You’re all red? Oh is it because your makeup got ruined! I can fix it for you if you want. ~ ♡

Kanade:“Y-Yeah sounds good.”

Lana:“Go get cleaned up you two I’ll take care of the mess”

-Lana goes to find a broom while Kanade goes to her room to go fix her makeup, Itsuki turns to Hiroshi and Seiichi-

Itsuki:“This is normal I swear”

Hiroshi: Is it now? 😅 Well I suppose it not that different from our usual antics.

Seiichi: At least you can’t blame me for anything this time. Here. [hands him a broom]

Hiroshi: Tch. Ingrate.

Lana:“Apparently I’M the trouble maker of this group” -Lana says helping sweep up the mess-

Itsuki:“You and my sister are a match made in heaven Lana I swear to god.”

-Lana chuckles-

[in the other room, Emiko’s pouring cups while waiting for the others]

Emiko: You like to use dark colors right Kanade? I feel like you fit that aesthetic really well. Or Lana-nee said your in a band right? That’s so cool! ~ ☆

Kanade:“Yeah I usually do use darker colors.”

-she said digging around in her makeup bag-

Kanade: “I do a lot of things involving stage performances...singing, acting you name it.” -she shrugs- “Hell I was a part time shrine maiden at one point!”

Emiko: Whoa! Really!! That’s so cool! ~ ♡ So you’ve pretty much done all kinds of things huh? I’ve always wanted to try stuff like that, [digging through her purse] but I just stuck with makeup!

Emiko: Don’t get me wrong it makes me happy! But, it was kind of hard. . . trying to get around back then. . . O-Oh! Y’know! 😅

-Kanade let out a small chuckle-

Kanade:“I guess it’s just...something that makes me happy...granted it is stressful at times but usually it’s all worth it in the end, to see people in awe of the show your able to put on...to make people happy..it’s one of the only reasons why I even keep fighting.”

Kanade:“Makeup is something that does sound interesting to me...I’m no professional with it though.”

Emiko: [smiles warmly] Well, that’s ok. Besides I think you’re super pretty!

Emiko: Now just watch the master at work! ✨ [poses cutely with her brushes] A true makeup artist is always prepared! Everyone’s gonna be starstruck once I’m done with you! ✨

Kanade: -giggling- “Alright...I trust you”

[meanwhile in the now clean kitchen] Lana:“Alright we should be good”

Hiroshi: That seems about it. Now, would you two mind if I poured some sake? I’d hate for it to go to waste.

Seiichi: No thanks old man. [cracks open a soda can] I’m good—UGH!

Seiichi: *coughs* Jeez! What the hell did I buy?! Eh? Matcha soda?!

Hiroshi: That’s what you get. Besides, I wasn’t asking you. 😑 You’re far too young.

Lana:“Sake sounds great right now!”

Itsuki:“I’ll take some to if you don’t mind, I’m gonna step outside on the balcony for a moment can I borrow your lighter again Lana?”

Lana:“Sure!” -she tosses him her lighter-

Itsuki:“Thanks!” -catching the lighter he steps outside onto the balcony-

Hiroshi: Hmm, I’ll have to join him later. [grabs cups & opens the bottle]

-Lana puts the broom away before turning her attention back to Seiichi and Hiroshi with a smile-

Lana:“Oh you don’t like the soda you got Seiichi? I’m pretty sure I have some Ramune in the fridge if you want that instead”

Seiichi: O-oh, are you sure? I did buy it after all, I just got the wrong ones. 😑

Lana:“Of course I’m sure! What kinda host would I be if I didn’t offer drinks to my guests?”

-Lanas phone rings and she goes pale-

Lana:“Ah uh excuse me...I’ll be right back”

Hiroshi: Of course, take your time dear.

-As Lana steps out onto the balcony itsuki steps back inside, seeing Lanas expression he goes stiff for a moment before shaking his head-

Itsuki:“I’m back, sorry about that I had to go take a smoke break.”

Seiichi: No don’t worry, it is your place after all. Also, would you mind opening this please? [hands Itsuki a ramune]

Hiroshi: If you don’t mind me asking Itsuki, I’d like to join you on another smoke break. I carry my own lighter so you needn’t ask.

-Itsuki nods taking the ramune and opening it before handing it back to Seiichi, he then turns his attention back to Hiroshi-

Itsuki:“Oh sure, I didn’t know you smoked Hiroshi, I would have offered you a cigarette earlier if I’d known...Lana has a no smoking in the apartment rule since the smell of cigarette smoke is hard to get out of things, same thing with my older sister Yumi.”

-a quick glance out the sliding glass door of the balcony and one could see that Lana herself was smoking a cigarette while rocking back and forth looking stressed out of her mind, she was still on the phone with someone-

Itsuki:“As you can see here most of the adults do smoke...I’m more inclined to think that everyone’s favorite onee-san is a stress smoker.”

Hiroshi: Oh, I see.

Hiroshi: Lana Alarie, a former member of the Darling Divas. I’ve heard word of them only once before, but I never thought I’d be meeting her in the flesh. . . Surely Emiko has realized this by now, but I doubt she’ll pay any mind.

Hiroshi: After all. . .we’re criminals too.

—To Be Continued—

[loyolahcmass]

Homily on Cringe by Matt Maeson

Here is the preview of Fr. Rossi’s homily about the song Cringe by Matt Maeson:

“Cringe”

by

Matt Maeson

 "Sweating all your sins out.”

“Cringe”-Matt Maeson

 Matt Maeson was raised in Norfolk, Virginia by parents who played in Christian metal bands with names like Holy Warfare and Neverthirst. 

 Matt grew up performing songs for inmates at maximum-security prisons with his mother and father.

 He was part of their inmate ministry, “Life on The Verge,” which is still going strong today. 

__________

 “Growing up, I wasn't allowed to listen to secular music.

 "I was raised on Christian music only, mainly lousy Christian music. 

 “I had to dig really deep to find something I actually liked in that world." 

 And he found it. It was his faith in God

__________

 He admits further that his Christian upbringing contributed to his development as an artist.

 “I have a unique faith in God because of it, and that’s very important to me. 

 "Also, touring with my parents for a few years really kickstarted my live performances. 

 "We did A LOT of shows, and by the time I went my separate way, I’d like to think I was pretty damn good at it."

__________

 It was the way he discovered the effect music can have on people, even those incarcerated.

 "I was seeing the difference music could make in people's lives in such a dark place, and how influential music could be on those guys. 

 "Like, they walked in sluggish, just like, oh, I've been in prison for 30 years -- obviously, not in the best mood. 

 “And then by the end of it, they're on their feet, clapping, having fun.

 “It's like, wow, man, music really does have the power to completely shift your atmosphere." 

__________

 It was playing with “Life on the Verge” after a debut gig at a Chick-Fil-A open mic when he was just 16—one Maeson says he won, "not because I was good, but because everyone else sucked,"—that he found out the good his music could do.

 “I brought that kind of attitude to every show I did after that, even outside of prison.

 “And it's been great just to see how music can help people.”

__________

 “Then I found out about the whole other world of music outside and went bonkers. 

 “I attribute most of my writing skills to the likes of Johnny Cash, Jeff Buckley and Kurt Cobain. 

 “People who knew how to write a song from experience and with brutal honesty. 

 “That’s what I respected.

__________

 “And that’s what I wanted to do, too.

 “However, I went off the rails for a while in my late teens.

 “I got addicted to drugs, and later served time in jail.”

__________

 Maeson’s song “Cringe” is about all of that.

 Its undercurrents deal with his search for redemption. 

 His impassioned singing cuts to the core, telling the story of his struggling against his sins and transgressions. 

 His goal he says is to point listeners towards a life of transcendence and triumph through the prism of his own spiritual battles.

__________

 “I didn’t think much of “Cringe” after I wrote it. 

 “I definitely didn’t think it would do as well as its done.”

 But it was brutally honest, for him the most important benchmark, and so he believed in it.

__________

 Maeson says he also wrote "Cringe" about being pushed away by people close to him because of the lifestyle he was living. 

 Rather than pulling him in and loving him, he was merely getting reprimanded.

 He felt he was making these people "cringe." 

 "I lived pretty rough for a while.

 "Some of the people I really cared about would rather tell me how wrong I was rather than ask how I was doing."

__________

 Breaking a song is often a time-consuming process, but rarely does it take well over two years to make a hit. 

 "Cringe" had somewhat of an unconventional trip to the top of the Billboard charts. 

 Not that Maeson's complaining.

__________

 Originally released in November 2016, it wasn't until nearly two years later that the song hit the charts.

 It debuted at No. 38 on the Adult Alternative Songs airplay list, eventually peaking at No. 7 in January. 

 Seven months later, it was the No. 1 song on the Alternative Songs airplay ranking, a distinction it held for four weeks.

__________

 Maeson knew something was up right off the bat, despite having to wait a bit to see the returns on Billboard's charts. 

 “It took a while for 'Cringe' to do its thing organically but it kept getting more and more listeners. 

 When "Cringe" began making the rounds on streaming services, Maeson was surprised about the song's trajectory.

 Something didn't add up, compared to most releases.

 "I saw the consistent number of streams it was getting, and it was getting higher each time, which Isn’t normal a year and a half after you release a song.

 “The streams kept going up.”

__________

 The lightbulb moment occurred in a July 2017 concert, when Maeson says he "could hear everyone singing “Cringe” back. 

 This was when the song was still over a year off from its radio debut.

 "Cringe" eventually remained on Billboard's Rock Airplay chart for 42 weeks between December 2018 and October 2019, a product of its success at two different radio formats over an extended period of time. 

__________

 “Why are you troubled?”

Gospel of John

 "I think there will always be a hint of the darker side of me in my music, Maeson says.

 "But there’s an uplifting spirit to it and that’s just because of where I’m at in my life. 

 "That’s what attracted more and more people to “Cringe”.

__________

 "Whatever I put out is going to be about where I am in life at that point. 

 "I think a lot of my songs are both depressing and uplifting at the same time, because even if I’m in a really dark place, I’ve got faith I’m going get out of it. 

 "That’s the message I’ve put in “Cringe”. People want that!"

[sooave]

The Problem With Wanting: 2

It’s 2026, and an old celebrity crush comes to haunt your old and cynical heart. You’re doing great at pretending you were never obsessed with him, and finding things about him that you don’t like. Until you’re repeatedly forced to work with him. Until he decides that he’s in love with you.

Genre: I really don’t know what to call this, but it’s not an AU, Kyungsoo’s older and still a celebrity, and it’s friends-to-lovers.

Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader

Length: 1,484 words

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn

Part 1 | Part 2

The instant you got home, the first thing you did (after putting away your supplies and changing) was to sit down at your computer and do a quick Google search on Do Kyungsoo. It had been quite some time since you were actively following him (you could try to dig up your Twitter accounts but that wasn’t worth the time).

EXO as a band had not formally retired, and from time to time would release a song or two. And like their hyungs from Super Junior and SHINee, most of them remained relatively successful in the showbiz. This, you knew. But you had no idea what Kyungsoo specifically was doing.

You almost didn’t want to look. As if becoming informed would bring you one step closer to being obsessed. Guilt coursed through you when you saw the paparazzi shots that popped up from your search. It felt somehow… disrespectful, now that you’d actually “met” him.

A quick scan through the Career section on his Wikipedia page told you that he continued to act in various movies and dramas, but had also released a few solo albums. You raise your eyebrows when you see a few titles that you actually recognize as being critically-acclaimed, but you have never watched them yourself.

He was doing well for himself career-wise; that much was to be expected. Personally, the fangirl inside of you was happy that they all seemed to be doing well.

The Personal Life section remained minimized, and you stared at words on your monitor, debating whether or not to open that Pandora’s Box.

Your cursor hovered over it, and just as you were about to open it and take what you promised yourself to be a brief look, your phone on the table began to flash with an incoming call. A breath quickly escaped you and you immediately hit the shortcut to close the window.

Thanking the gods for the intervention, you snatch the phone up to pick up the call from one of your old-time clients. He was an owner of a Michelin Bib Gourmand traditional Korean restaurant, looking to open up a new location. Your gratefulness to him extended beyond the fact that he interrupted your unhealthy behaviour; he gave a chance on you when you first started looking for contract work in Korea, and it has opened up a lot of doors for you since.

“Hello?” You greeted automatically, even though you already know who called you.

“Ah! It’s me, Kim Yongsun.”

“Yongsun-ssi, how can I help you? It’s been a while.” The computer desk proves to be a dangerous place to be, so you quickly moved to the sofa and laid down, balancing the phone between your shoulder and head.

“Yes… thank’s for being patient, it’s been a little crazy here.” There were rambunctious shouts in the background and you heard Yongsun cover his mic to loudly scold them.

“Ya! Keep it down, I’m getting work done in here!” He hollers. The mic crackles as he returns.

“Sorry, new hires getting excited and all. Anyways… I’m ready to start talking about what you can do for the new location. What time are you free?”

This is one of your favourite parts of what you do. Sitting down with a client and getting to know their dream and understanding how you can help them achieve it.

“I have time tomorrow actually. I’m free anytime.”

“Okay…Hmm.” He seemed to contemplate something before continuing. “Come over to the restaurant at 3:30. I’ll have some food prepared for you,” Yongsun says proudly, as if he doesn’t always provide free lunch for you.

“Wow… you’re so generous,” you thanked sarcastically but couldn’t help but smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You both said your goodbyes and hang up.

Riding on the high that was imagining the success of a client consultation, you scrolled through your phone and reopened the dating app that you haven’t touched in almost a year. It was a little tough to date in Korea, your age aside.

Relationships were successful if the two persons involved had mostly similar values. It was also a well-documented phenomenon that young adults in Korea are staying single longer, and weren’t prioritizing marriage. You certainly weren’t alone in that you were in your 30s and unmarried, but elders still held a strong bias against it.

Back to values. You were absolutely not interested in being a housewife, despite the fact that you keep an impeccably tidy house and enjoying doing so. Your art and career are important to you.

But whenever you happen to mention that you’re an artist and do most of your work from home, men seem to assume that you’d be a perfect for the role of a housewife. The men who were actually on these dating apps were usually looking for a woman willing sacrifice their career for the “home”.

In short, Korean men who grew up in Korea usually did not hold the same values as you.

Nevertheless, you swiped through a good number of men, excited by none of the prospects. And it ended the same, with you throwing your phone across the sofa and closing the app. But this time you didn’t delete the app, because you promised yourself you’d try.

—

“Hello?” You poked your head through the door of Youngsun’s restaurant and called out cautiously. It was 3:20, and the restaurant was eerily dark and empty. Usually, the lights would be on and there would be a couple of chefs mulling about during the service break. You pulled yourself out of the door and checked your phone for the third time, double checking that you’d gotten the date and time right. You had said tomorrow right? Maybe he forgot.

A minute or two, no one had responded, so you reluctantly slipped into the establishment, tiptoeing your way to the back. The kitchen had it’s lights on, to your relief. Humming of the industrial hood fans and the noises of a knife on a chopping board comforted you.

Still paranoid that you had gotten yourself into a mix-up with Yongsun, you silently slunk your way towards the kitchen. There was a large pass-through window but there was no one visible through it, and you guessed that whoever was in there was towards the back of the kitchen. You poked your head around the corner and quickly shrank back in shock.

The heart in your chest was threatening to jump out of your throat at the sight of what looked to be Do Kyungsoo in his standard baseball cap, thick rimmed glasses, and plain t-shirt, cooking in Yongsun’s kitchen.

You weren’t even 100% sure it was him. But you knew you weren’t hallucinating.

With a growing horror in your chest, you pressed your back against the wall, contemplating your next move. Your two options were to run out of the restaurant and never contact Yongsun again, or to text him and figure out what was going on.

With slightly shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and frantically dialled Yongsun’s phone through FaceTime Audio.

His phone began to ring in the distance, and you squeezed your eyes shut. The fear churning in your stomach was telling you that you had completely gotten the time or date wrong. What were the odds that you’d run into your old celebrity crush? Zero. So maybe that wasn’t him in there, but you could recognize Kyungsoo anywhere.

“Ah, hold on, let me get this,” You hear Yongsun say.

The realization that Yongsun or Kyungsoo might be able to hear you speak from outside the kitchen dawned on you, and you practically dove around another corner to get as far as way as possible before he picked up.

Why did I not just text him??? You groaned internally.

“Hey, where are you?” Yongsun skipped the pleasantries, not bothering to say hello.

You cleared your throat and spoke as quietly as possible, heart thundering in your chest and ears.

“Oh… sorry… I just came to the restaurant and no one was there. So I assumed I might have gotten the time wrong.”

“Ahhh,” he let out a bark of laughter, “I forgot to tell you that we were closing early today. Going to have the night off. It’s my wedding anniversary tonight.”

“Wow, congratulations!” You chirped, and immediately slap your hand over your mouth. That was dangerously loud.

“Thanks… but again, where are you? Did you leave?”

You looked around awkwardly. It was pretty much out of the question to tell Yongsun that you were behind his restaurant bar, splayed out on the floor from tripping on your feet.

“Just waiting outside,” you said nonchalantly as you stared at a dustball on the floor.

“Okay well come on in. I’m in the kitchen.” He hung up and you were left with nothing but dread and a dustball.

A/N: I finally finished Ch2, and ch3 coming soon!! I finally have it all planned out. Also, credits to my Apple Pencil breaking down so I couldn’t do any artwork. Who else is staying up right now to watch the musical xiusoo are in??? (hi, @lapetitefangirlperdue)

[kpopmakesmequestionmylifechoices]

Problematic kpop stuff atm:

Non kpop fans using kpop to make profit (e.g. reacting to kpop bcos they know it's fame).

Overseas interviewers and hosts being absolutely inappropriate, disrespectful or simply ignorant and unaware of cultural differences.

Problematic fansites with stalking behaviour, and the people who support them regardless because they don't wanna miss a single moment in their faves lives.

People being absolutely obsessed and over-supportive, also resulting in trash talking other groups .

On the other hand people who hate on artists in the bands they stan, calling them out for things no one should be judged for/being disrespectful af ("Don't eat this you'll get fat"/"You look old").

People in general being butthurt because of matters that aren't of their concern - idols dating or meeting friends etc, none of our goddamn business.

Companies being way too focused on money inflow and hence completely ignoring that it should be "quality over quantity" and not the other way round.

Way too many comebacks per group in a too short period of time, causing the music to lack and the idols to suffer.

Companies not letting idols rest at all and idols looking starved and being overworked.

The neverending story of some armies fighting everyone and everyone fighting armies.

Specific fandoms being overdramatic making a fuss outta everything.

Other fandoms being super fanatic and making their idols the center of their life ("no matter how bad my day is, if one of XY posts a selca I'm instantly happy again" dafuq dudes why are you like this).

Underrated groups still not gaining any attention, which simply is due to the fact that there are way too many groups and the competition is too high.

My fave company (not), MMT, being absolute dickheads and exploiting people.

Disrespectful idiots thinking they have to analyse idols' sexual orientation - a simple reminder: idols are strangers to you, and you neither know what's happening in their life, nor should you dig so deep into their privacy and spread their alleged sexual orientation. No one does that about you, so you pls keep your distance and don't do it to others ffs.

People literally spamming the feeds with smut - I do not mind smut, however if I search for normal content I want normal content, and in some fandoms' cases you first have to scroll through 929202 smuts before you get a single normal post like pls guys tag your stuff appropriately and use the "read more" function I beg you.

Somehow I feel like the fandom is getting idk more serious and less funny with every day...where are all the crack videos, what happend to the derp culture idk man but my feeds are full with "omg oppa is the most beautiful man" and "can your idol do that?" and "thread of xy's hands". Like sorry but we've had funnier times tbh what happened.

I think that's it for now, but what I wanna say with this: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED. I know we cannot change what companies do, but we can change our own behaviour so pls guys. There is so much we can change to avoid so many of these struggles. Just reflect your own behaviour and think before you do sth, that already helps a lot tbh.

[ominousunflower]

Lucky Pick

Written for Day 14 (Lost) of @lukadrien-june​

Summary: Luka is running late for a gig, but he won't leave until he finds his lucky guitar pick. (Aged-up characters, established relationship.)

Word count: 1976

Read on AO3

__________________________________________

Luka should have left the apartment five minutes ago.

His partner Camille is already backstage at the venue, and she’d texted him two minutes ago asking him if he was on his way yet. And normally, Luka is prompt. Normally, Luka would be on his way.

Except he can’t find his lucky pick.

Tonight is their first big music gig. In all honesty, they’re indie artists opening for a slightly bigger indie artist, so it’s not as if they’re a music sensation. But it’s a good opportunity, and it pays, far better than the occasional gigs Luka used to play with Kitty Section back in high school, where they usually got compensated with food or free merchandise.

(When Luka finally moved out of the houseboat and into an apartment with Adrien, he’d had to throw out countless free t-shirts that he didn’t need—with the exception of a garish red one that says WE ARE THE CHAMPIGNONS and features Freddie Mercury holding a mushroom like a microphone, which Adrien had insisted that Luka keep. Luka hates the shirt, but he loves the way Adrien smiles whenever Luka wears it.)

Long ago, Luka’s lucky pick was a present from Adrien. Actually, it’s technically not even a present, but it was the first thing that Adrien ever gave Luka, and Luka has kept it all these years because he’s stupid and romantic like that. Never mind that they’re engaged now, and Adrien has given Luka a ring; Luka needs his pick for this gig.

Luka has no idea how he managed to lose it. Usually, he keeps the pick in a tiny box of special belongings. He’d taken it out this morning to practice for the gig, though, and sometime between then and now, it disappeared.

It’s strange, when he’s usually so organized and careful with his possessions. Adrien is the one who can never manage to find matching socks, not even when Luka rolls them together in pairs for him. (To be fair, Luka suspects that Plagg might be the culprit behind that.)

No, Luka is supposed to be the organized one—but, well, they do say that you turn into your parents.

Oh, god. Luka always swore he’d be less chaotic than his mother.

Luka wrenches open the top nightstand drawer and combs through the contents a third time, wondering if he somehow missed the pick. Then he kneels, moving through the other two drawers just as frantically, and comes up equally emptyhanded.

As he stands, he bangs his head off the lampshade looming over the nightstand. It doesn’t hurt much, but the shock of the collision makes him mutter a curse.

“Luka?” Adrien asks. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that languid ease of his: the kind that comes from teenage years split between modeling famous designs and moonlighting as a cat superhero. “Are you ready to go?”

“No.” Luka sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t find something.”

“What is it?” Adrien asks. “I’ll help.”

“It’s…a pick,” Luka says slowly.

He’s almost embarrassed to admit that he’s kept the cheap guitar pick all these years, especially when Adrien has given him nicer picks since then.

“Which one?” Adrien asks.

“The…” Luka sighs. “The lucky one.”

Adrien frowns. “A lucky pick? I didn’t know you had one.”

“I’ve never really used it,” Luka says.

It’s strange, when Luka and Adrien have given each other so many gifts and love confessions over the years, that Luka has never told Adrien about the pick. He supposes that deep down, he’s worried that Adrien will think it’s weird or stupid—despite the fact that Adrien loves him, and thinks the world of him, and would never actually find Luka dumb.

But, well—maybe Luka’s still a little haunted by his first girlfriend, who accused him of trying too hard to make everything romantic.

“Well, then,” Adrien says, “how do you know it’s lucky?”

Luka twists his engagement ring around his finger, watching it sparkle in the light. The band holds two tiny green gems, which Adrien has jokingly called snake eyes. “Because you gave it to me.”

“Oh!” Adrien says. “So it’s one of the picks I’ve given you.” He wanders over to the chest where Luka keeps his pants and opens one of the drawers. “Maybe you left it in a pants pocket. Which one are we looking for? And, wait—why is one of them lucky, and not the others?”

Luka laughs. “It’s the first one you gave me. The white one with the black music store logo.”

“That pick?” Adrien says, turning one of Luka’s jean pockets inside out. “But that was a free sample from some store we went to.” He frowns at the pants. “Wait, when did I even give that to you? Weren’t we in lycée?”

Luka smiles awkwardly. “Yeah. We were.”

Adrien drops the pants into the drawer, not bothering to fold them back up, then walks over to the bed and sits next to Luka. “You kept that?”

“I know it technically wasn’t a gift,” Luka says.

“Right,” Adrien says, nodding slowly. “I remember now. You came over to play music with me, but you forgot to bring a pick, and I gave you that one because I had it lying around.” A disbelieving smile tugs at his lips. “You kept that?”

Luka nods. “It’s the first thing you ever gave me. Before we were dating, even. I know it’s hokey and stupid—”

“No!” Adrien says. He reaches down and interlaces his fingers with Luka’s. “I don’t think it’s stupid at all. It’s so sweet that you kept that.” One of his teeth digs into his lip, and he glances away. “I still have the pack of strings you gave me.”

“Wait, like—guitar strings?”

Adrien grins sheepishly and nods. “Yeah.”

Luka laughs. “Adrien, those were for your guitar.”

“Yeah, but then I found out Nathalie had already ordered me some, and I figured if I couldn’t have you as my boyfriend, I could at least have your guitar strings.”

Luka’s heart flutters in his chest, and he runs a finger across Adrien’s hand, feeling the cold metal of Adrien’s Miraculous—which, in a few months, will be replaced by a wedding ring. “You did get to have me as your boyfriend, though.”

“Eventually,” Adrien murmurs. “But it seemed impossible back then.”

Luka raises an eyebrow. “You couldn’t tell that I was madly in love with you?”

“No!” Adrien says. “I’d barely had any guy friends back then, so I thought that was just normal friendship. And my feelings for you started out a lot more subtly than my feelings for Ladybug. Honestly, when I kept those guitar strings, I don’t think I was actually thinking about being your boyfriend.” He groans and leans forward, letting his forehead fall against Luka’s shoulder. “I’m lucky you like stupid guys.”

“You weren’t stupid,” Luka says. He reaches behind Adrien’s head and plays with one of the stray hairs peeking out from his ponytail. “And I don’t care how long it took us. I’m just glad we’re here now.”

“Me too,” Adrien says. He sighs, then leans back. “So, let’s find this lucky pick of yours?”

“I guess I don’t really need it, if you’re going to be there.”

“Charmer.” Adrien pecks Luka on the lips. “We don’t have much time, so let’s get looking.”  

For the next few minutes, the two search the bedroom for any sign of Luka’s pick. (Luka takes over looking through pants pockets, because unlike Adrien, he actually folds the pants back up when he’s done.) Even after they’ve scoured the whole room, though, they still can’t find it.

Adrien sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure it’s in here?”

“Well, it’s not in any of these dirty socks,” Plagg says.

Luka snorts when he sees the pile of socks on the ground, all extracted from the hamper in the closet. “Thanks, Plagg.”

“Oh!” Adrien says. “The laundry basket.” He kneels on the ground and tugs it toward himself. “Maybe you left it in…ah!” Grinning, he stands up with the pick pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Your pick, my love.”

Sighing, Luka takes the pick from Adrien and slips it into his pocket. “Thanks. I forgot I changed out of those pants earlier.”

Adrien winks. “Happy to help.”

Luka scans the room, turned upside-down from Adrien’s search methods—that is, if dump everything on the bed can be considered a method. “You realize we’re going to have to clear off the bed when we get back, right?”

“I can clean it up before we leave,” Adrien says.

Luka raises an eyebrow. “Sure you can.” He checks his phone and groans. There’s another text from Camille, asking him again if he’s on his way. “I’m really late.”

“I’ll take you,” Adrien says, closing the closet door. “Quicker than taking the metro.”

“I need to be there in fifteen minutes,” Luka says. “I don’t think you can drive me there that quickly.”

Adrien smirks. “I wasn’t talking about driving.”

“You mean as Chat Noir?” Luka asks. He considers—it’s been a while since Chat Noir escorted Luka somewhere, and he’s certainly never done it as a way to beat traffic. “I guess we don’t really have another choice.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Adrien asks. He saunters up to Luka and loops his arms around his neck. “Don’t you like seeing your fiancé in a hot leather catsuit? Being carried in my big, strong superhero arms?”  

“Yes,” Luka says, smiling as Adrien kisses his jaw. “But…” He trails off when Adrien presses another kiss against his throat, and another against his shoulder. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Adrien glances up at Luka, eyes glinting. “I figured we could celebrate finding your lucky pick.”

“Later tonight,” Luka says. “Fifteen minutes, remember?”

“You know I love math,” Adrien says. His lips trail back up Luka’s throat, and then, breath warm against Luka’s ear, he adds, “Three minutes, tops, to get you to the venue. That means we have ten minutes, leaving two to make ourselves presentable.”

Luka groans. “Is two minutes really enough time to apply the amount of concealer I’m going to need?”

“You can always put on some more once you’re there.”

“Camille is going to think we had sex in the metro bathroom or something.”

Adrien pulls back, a scowl wrinkling his nose. “No, thanks. Those are hard enough to transform in.” He wraps his fingers in the front of Luka’s shirt and tugs, taking a step back toward the bed. “Maybe somewhere a bit more comfortable?”

“Great idea,” Luka says. “If only there was a bed we could actually use.”

“What do you…” Adrien turns around and glances at the bed, which is covered with the entire contents of their drawers, plus several jackets and assorted belongings. Snorting, Luka notes that at least the necessary supplies are already out. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” Adrien turns back to Luka with a devilish grin. “Isn’t that what walls are for?”

“The last time we tried that, I almost got a concussion.”

“But you’ve got your lucky pick with you.”

“I don’t think it prevents head injuries.”

Adrien pouts. “Fine. At least let me give you a good luck kiss, to go with your lucky pick?”

“That,” Luka says, leaning close, “I think we can handle.”

Luka doesn’t need his pick to know that he’s lucky, though; in the end, being with Adrien, knowing that Adrien picked him over everyone else, is more than enough.

(He does, however, end up needing an ice pack—because as it turns out, a lucky pick doesn’t prevent Luka's overzealous fiancé from banging his head off the wall.)

[mattzerella-sticks]

Park Your Car in My Gay-rage

Castiel moved out West so he could live freely and with pride. However an anonymous act of bigotry chips away at his faith that he can live life without facing prejudice. And with each repair shop that turns him down the cracks keep growing. Why would Singer's Auto be any different?

Will his car ever be fixed? And could a certain mechanic restore more than just his car?

(Link to ao3)

           Castiel slumps against his car, snapping his cell phone shut in frustration. Banging his hand against the hood he grumbles out a string of expletives as he gives up hope. Meg, leaning against the hood, drums her fingers on the closed Yellow Pages while watching him.

           “So,” Meg says, “it a bust, too?”

           He sighs, tapping his phone on his forehead. “More than that. The mechanic laughed me off after I told him what I needed and had a few choice opinions to tell me.”

           Meg’s lips purse, and she steps back onto the sidewalk to stare at the rough scratches across her friend’s beige paint. The word was interrupted by the open driver seat’s door, but when closed all together the crude artist spelled out ‘FAGGOT’. “Maybe he knew the jackass who did this…”

           Castiel ignores her, chewing on his lip. “How am I going to get this fixed…? I can’t drive around town like this.”

           “And I’m sick and tired of looking through that thing,” she jerks her thumb at the offensive phone book, “Do you ever think searching for stuff will be easier? Like, I don’t know… all these names and numbers stored somewhere and it’d only take a few seconds to find exactly what you’re looking for?”

           Frown slashed heavily across his face, Castiel turns to glare at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

           She shrugs, “I don’t know… digging through that reminded me of this girl I went out with a couple’a times. Total geek, spent at least two dates going on and on about those huge, clunky computer things. Think she lived in an Internet Café… wait a minute!” She digs into her leather jacket pocket and pulls out her phone, flicking it open and clicking away.

           He hops off his car, stepping closer out of curiosity. “What are you doing?”

           “I just remembered,” she starts, not even looking at him, “she mentioned how she works at this garage –“

           “Meg, we’ve tried all the garages in the area –“

           “C’mon, trust me,” Meg continues, “place has to be good if they hired a lesbian.”

           Castiel rolls his eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t trust straight men’s views on lesbianism.” At that Meg stops staring at her phone to shoot Castiel a flat look. He hisses out a breath and runs tired fingers through his hair. “Sorry, I’m just tired and frustrated about all this… why is it so hard to find somebody for a body job?”

           “Because unfortunately most people today are ignorant, Clarence,” Meg tells him, holding her phone against her ear, “And we’re not going to see any real change for years… maybe not until we’re all old and shriveled and grey.”

           Huffing, Castiel crosses his arms against his chest and spins on his heel. He lets Meg talk to his back, done with their bleak conversation. Still, a part of him agrees with her opinion of the future for those like them. It wasn’t too long ago Castiel was trapped in his old hometown in Illinois, looking over his shoulder every weeknight to make sure no one followed him home. Fearful that one day his face would be a blip in the newsreel, another name to add to the wall like Matthew Shepard.

           “I moved here to escape all that,” he mumbles to himself, “but apparently hatred can grow anywhere… even in California.”

           Meg hops onto his back, interrupting his musings. She chokes him, forcing him to twirl her around until Castiel can pry her arms off of him. After wheezing in a good-sized breath, he asks what that was about.

           “They’d be happy to take a look,” Meg says, “Free of charge!”

           Castiel blinks at her. “What?”

           “I told you this was a good place, Clarence. Hurry up though, they’re not gonna keep the shop open for you.” She rattles off the directions, having to repeat herself once Castiel shakes away the dazed look in his eye. “…And when you get there you’re supposed to ask for Dean,” she finishes, “Dean Winchester.”

           “Why?”

           “Guy overheard us talking and said he’d take care of it personally.”

           “But… why?”

           She shrugs, “Who knows, but he’s waving his fees. Don’t look a gift mechanic in the mouth, my gorgeous unicorn.” Meg pockets her phone and skips backwards, waving goodbye.

           “Wait,” Castiel follows her, “you’re not coming with?”

           “Band practice,” she says, “I’ve gotta swing over to my place and pick up my bass. You’ll do fine!” With a loud smack of her lips she disappears behind a corner, off on her own way.

           Castiel waits a beat before he actually leaves. He starts the engine, idling some more to switch out the CD in the drive, so instead of blasting Indigo Girls he could drive to the music of the Cranberries. Skipping until he reached ‘Zombie’, Castiel nods his head along as he begins his journey over to Singer’s Auto Repair.

           It wasn’t too confusing following Meg’s directions. Halfway through her second explanation Castiel realized he was familiar with the route. He’s driven that way countless time to visit a small bookstore he loves. The only one he’d been able to find that stocks trashy romance novels of more diverse backgrounds. Perks of living near West Hollywood, Castiel always knows where to go to find shops catered to others like him.

           But he would have remembered seeing a car garage there.

           Rounding the final corner, Castiel slows down and crawls along the street, head swerving left and right while ‘Yeat’s Grave’ plays on. After passing his bookstore, he spots a faded sign a few storefronts down.

           “How have I never seen this before?”

           Unassuming from the front, with faded brick and rusted steel, Bobby’s Auto Shop sits next to a leather shop and spans all the way to the corner. A single rainbow flag hangs from a pole jutting off the side of the building. Castiel pulls into an open garage, parking near the front and cutting the music off before the next song could begin. He steps out of the car and looks around.

           There are at least five vehicles stationed inside the building at the moment. He sees one hefted up on a lift, a burly man inspecting it from below. Across from him two other mechanics argue over the exposed engine of a truck, long hair pulled back into tight ponytails. At a lounge area a black couple share a bag of chips.

           Looking to the other side at what Castiel expects to be only a blank wall he spies a cluttered corkboard.

           Castiel walks away from his car and over to it, scanning the different fliers tacked on. Notices for events like poetry readings and charity brunches to raise funds for AIDs research. A picture of a drag queen hangs next to an ad selling a lounger with a few of the tabs ripped off. There’s even a poster for Meg’s band, ‘The Demon Queens’ that he recognizes, having done the design for them.

           “You find something you like?” a rough drawl from behind startles him. Castiel spins, coming face to face with a man who shouldn’t look so handsome streaked with oil. He stares into sparkling green eyes, the color only highlighted by the dark marks on his cheeks. The mechanic smirks, cocking one brow higher than the other. “You all right there?”

           “Yeah-yeah-yes,” Castiel clears his throat, “Yes I am, sorry I… what did you ask?”

           He chuckles, running dirty fingers through his light brown hair, coloring it darker. “You here for some work?”

           Castiel nods. “I’m supposed to ask for a Dean… Winchester?”

           Mechanic’s gaze widens, glancing back at Castiel’s car before returning to him. “You’re Meg’s friend?” he asks, grinning.

           “Yes…?”

           “Hmm… not what I was expecting,” he says, holding a hand out, “I’m Dean.”

           Castiel flushes, cursing his luck. Of course the only mechanic who would work on his car would be the man who stepped off the set of a calendar shoot.

           Pretty boys have always been Castiel’s weakness. From high school when he first understood where his attractions laid to now, something about them makes his brain shuts down. His tongue works against him and sweat pours out from everywhere; thoughts bottleneck behind the embarrassing urge to blurt out ‘you’re pretty’. Castiel ceases to function normally when presented with a pretty boy.

           It’s been an uncomfortable amount of time where Dean’s hand hangs in the air. Castiel realizes it when the smile on his face slowly starts to fall.

           He jerks his hand out in a panic, latching onto Dean’s with as relaxed a face he can force. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean.” His handshake is tight and fast, quickly pulling away as if burned.

           Feeling something wet coating his palm Castiel prays Dean didn’t notice his sweat. However looking at it he belatedly remembers Dean’s hands were covered in oil.

           “Shit,” Dean says, “Totally forgot to clean up… that’s my bad.”

           “It’s fine,” Castiel tell him, “I’ve had worse… my hands are usually messy and covered in whatever.”

           “Really? Like what?”

           “Paints, clay… those types of things.”

           “You an artist?”

           “On my days off.”

           Dean motions for Castiel to follow. He does. “You do any galleries?” he asks.

           Castiel frowns, “I’ve been in one or two, but never on my own. Don’t have the money to afford a space.”

           “If you ever do, feel free to advertise here,” Dean says, stopping by a large sink, “As you already know we have a place for a poster or two.”

           “Duly noted.” He waits for Dean to turn on the faucet, letting him run his hands under the stream first. Once he finishes Castiel half-heartedly scrubs at the oil. There wasn’t much on his hand, and making any effort to wash it away wouldn’t fit with the cool façade Castiel tried to keep.

           “Y’know,” Dean starts, hands hidden in a fluffy towel, “when Charlie told me about you, I thought you’d look a hell of a lot different.”

           Castiel skews his head to the side. “How so?”

           “Well I figured you’d be a girl,” he shrugs, “friend of an ex from Charlie, nine out of ten it’d be another lesbian or at least bisexual…“ Dean tosses the towel to Castiel, “egg on my face, right?”

           He catches it haphazardly. “More like oil.” When Dean’s brows pinch together, Castiel mock wipes at his face with the towel.

           “Really?” Dean whines, “You probably think I’m a slob.” He hurriedly splashes some more water on his face and snatches the towel back.

           “Honestly?” Castiel says, “I don’t know enough about you to form an opinion.”

           Dean looks up from the towel and smiles, dimples clear on his freckled cheeks. “We’ll have to fix that, then.” Before Castiel can overthink what that means Dean walks away and over to his car, Castiel racing to keep up. “So someone marked up your car?”

           He sighs, “Yeah… I woke up the other day to find that – that word scratched on the side along with some… other things.” Castiel doesn’t dive in to the details of the torn up rainbow flag outside his apartment and the already painted over slurs carved onto his door. “That’s what I get for celebrating the first day of Pride, I guess.”

           Dean frowns, running a hand across his car’s ugly scar. “You know the person who did this?”

           Castiel shrugs. “Suspicions… but nothing concrete enough to make a claim or file a report.”

           “If it were me I’d do more than that. Bastard would be walking with a limp – if at all – if they messed up my Baby.”

           The threat brings a smile to Castiel’s face. He straightens out of the curled up posture he fell into. “Your ‘Baby’?”

           “My car,” Dean explains, turning to him, “older model in black. A ‘67 Chevy Impala.”

           “I must confess… I don’t know that much about cars.”

           “Really?”

           “I don’t quite know the model of my own car let alone what an Impala looks like.”

           “That’s a damn shame,” Dean tells him, “Going your whole life without knowing what true beauty is? I’d take you out to see her now if I didn’t have to park so far away today.”

           “You don’t have your own parking?”

           He shakes his head. “Usually I snag a spot on the block but by the time I made it out of bed they were all taken. So I’m about three down in front of this deli. Anyway…” Dean kneels down again, inspecting his car closely. “This shouldn’t be tough… probably have it ready by tomorrow if nothing comes up.”

           “Are you sure?” Castiel asks, “If you have other clients waiting –“

           “Nah I finished up my last appointment for the day already. Don’t stress about it.”

           “That’s very nice of you,” he says, “all the other places I tried wouldn’t help me and here you make it sound so easy…” Then, Castiel remembers what Meg told him. “And for no pay? I don’t mind, I have the money –“

           Dean reaches out for Castiel, grabbing his wrist to stop him from taking out his wallet. “I insist. I’m always looking for ways to give back to our community.”

           Castiel smiles, his skin burning from Dean’s touch. “Our – ah… our community?” he starts, “do you mean that in a friendly neighborhood sense or…”

           He rolls his eyes. “In a rainbow way.”

           “Ah.” Castiel glances around the garage, gaze unable to land on any one point for long. “I was wondering… this is a very progressive garage.”

           “Has been since the beginning,” Dean tells him, leaning against Castiel’s car, “Bobby’s been a staple here for a long time ever since he and his wife Karen moved in years ago.”

           “Bobby?”

           “Bobby Singer, the big ol’ boss of this place,” he explains, “He and Karen came here when things got dangerous for them back where they used to live.”

           “Why was that?”

           Dean launches Castiel back into the past, where a newly married Bobby and Karen were being threatened nearly every night when one of the women in Sioux Falls discovered Karen hadn’t always been called Karen. Gangs of men hung out in front of their house, dumping cigarette butts on their lawn. Every time they went out they were watched and followed, confronted on the days when people had a little more confidence than normal. Any room they entered became so silent a cough could shatter glass. Neither Bobby nor Karen was willing to move at first, until the first rock was thrown through their window. They packed their bags and left in the early morning, not stopping until their car broke down in California.

           Bobby pushed it all the way to the closest garage. “It was closing,” Dean says, “And the only one there was the owner – and he didn’t see why he should help. So Bobby grabbed a box of tools and set to work. Halfway through fixing his own car, someone pulled up and asked Bobby to look under his hood. He did and made the engine purr. Owner saw and demanded Bobby give him the money from that. Made a deal and bought the place with what was left of their savings.”

           “And he turned it into this,” Castiel says, “I wish I knew about Singer’s sooner… would have saved me a lot of guff whenever I needed my oil changed.”

           “I’ll admit we can do better in advertising,” Dean shrugs, “Mainly we rely on word-of-mouth… although we did get a lot of customers after Benny namedropped us in one of his shows.”

           “Benny?”

           Dean jerks his thumb over towards the burly man from earlier, chatting with the previously bickering mechanics by the truck. “He’s a drag queen. Performs over at the Roadhouse every Wednesday as ‘The Vamp’. I mentioned he should promote the garage in his act one night when I was helping him do his make-up.”

           Castiel recalls the picture of the drag queen he saw pinned to the cork board, notices the similarities between the figure captured and the one in front of him. “Is everyone who works here a… um, on the rainbow?”

           “More or less,” Dean shrugs, “Jo – the blonde – been on Estrogen for two years, has her first round of surgery coming up in a few weeks. Dorothy doesn’t conscribe to the binary but they still identify as a lesbian…” He swings his finger over to the lounge area. “Max is as gay as the next guy but his sister Alicia’s our token straight.” Turning back to face Castiel he says, “And Charlie you already know only goes for chicks.”

           “And you?”

           “Me?” Dean chuckles, “Why I’m bi as fuck!”

           Castiel laughs as well. “Are you trying to collect all the letters?”

           “Like queer Pokémon,” Dean nods, earning another round of snickers. “Nah, we all kinda drifted together. Jo and the Banes twins lived in the area – Jo’s mom actually owns the Roadhouse. But the rest of us… Bobby took under his wing in one way or another.”

           Storm clouds brew in the timbre of Dean’s voice, the shiny jewels of his eyes losing their luster. Castiel feels the temperature between them dip low by tens of degrees. Whatever Dean doesn’t say must weigh heavily to flatten the good mood he was in.

           It’s a familiar burden Castiel knows all too well.

           “Do you know what my name means?”

           Dean blinks, thrown off by the sudden shift in topics. “Uh… no –“

           “It’s a bastardized version of an angel’s name,” he explains, “Cassiel. They thought the extra ‘s’ was too… feminine. But I was born on a Thursday and…” Castiel trails off, grimacing.

           “Religious family?” Dean asks.

           He nods. “My dad was heavily involved with our local Church.”

           “So when you…”

           “It was not a fun time,” Castiel says, “I didn’t go home for the first two years after I left for college but… we learned not to speak about it. Although every now and then my mother sends me pamphlets for seminary school.”

           Dean barks out a rough laugh, biting his lip. A brief, charged silence stands between them where Castiel can’t breathe. He nearly backs away, tells Dean that it’s okay. They’re strangers – all he needs is a body job, not a life story. But then he sucks his lower lip under his teeth and starts.

           “My dad caught me fooling around with another boy when I was sixteen,” he says, “And after the punches kicked me out on my ass. Joke’s on him, though, because I managed to snag the keys to the car. Drove around for the first year seeing the sights until I found my way to Bobby’s. Picked up shifts part-time until he noticed me sleeping in my car. Cuffed me on the head and told me to take the spare room in the apartment above.”

           “Karen didn’t mind?”

           “Karen died years earlier,” Dean smiles ruefully, “Cancer. But she would’ve done the same thing. Wish I could’ve met her, though, heard she made killer apple pie.”

           And in that moment, Castiel finds himself wishing he had the chance as well. Dean talks about his family with so much love he wants to meet them all, or at least here him tell more stories about them. Knowing that this group of people have found each other and are happy gives Castiel more hope for the future for people like them.

           Dean Winchester’s gravitation is too powerful to resist, and Castiel falls into his orbit happily.

           A set of squeaky wheels interrupts their conversation, an older man in a trucker’s cap rolling up to them. “Winchester,” he barks, “I don’t pay you to stand around and flirt. Git to work on this poor boy’s car!”

           They break apart, both their cheeks bright red. Dean hangs his head, rubbing his hands against his coveralls. “Right away, Bobby.”

           Bobby shakes his head, leaving them. “Idjits…”

           Castiel shuffles his feet, wringing his hands together. He waits until the other man is far away before speaking again. “So… that’s Bobby.”

           “Yeah,” he huffs, “Bastard’s usually never this ornery… probably getting me back for walking in on him and his boyfriend the other night.” Dean scoffs, crossing his arms, “Not my fault Crowley didn’t lock the damn door…”    

           The past few minutes catch up with Castiel and he feels the awkwardness creeping back up his spine like a spider. “I… I should be going,” he stutters out, startling Dean.

           “Really?” Dean asks, his frown confusing to Castiel’s already addled mind.

           He nods, pacing backwards. “Thank you for your help and… and the talk.” Then before Dean could respond Castiel races out the garage door and doesn’t look back. Castiel makes it past the leather shop before he falls back against the storefront and gasps for breath.

           “Castiel,” he mumbles to himself, “stupid… ‘and the talk’. Why can’t you talk to pretty boys without losing your head.”

           He knocks his head against the brick latticework repeatedly, angry with how he blew his shot with the pretty mechanic. In between the heavy pounding she gives himself he hears a slight cough to his right.

           Squinting an eye open Castiel sees Dean watching him with an amused grin across his face. Throwing himself away from the wall, Castiel turns to face him. “Dean?” he starts, “What are… what are you doing here?”

           Dean steps closer, invading Castiel’s space. The smell of motor oil and cologne makes him dizzy. “You left in such a hurry, Cas, you forgot to give me your phone number.”

           His heart skips over itself as a sunny ray of hope shoots across his chest. Clouds return to cover it when he remembers past garage experiences where mechanics needed it to reach him. He deflates. “Right, so you can tell me when my car’s ready.”

           Dean juts his lower lip out, head bobbing as he considers Castiel’s statement. “Yeah for that, too.”

           “Too?”

           “Well I mean how else can I ask you out if I don’t have your number?”

           A stone lodges itself in Castiel’s throat. “You… you want to ask me out… on a date?”

           His eyebrows jump up. “I… I wasn’t misreading anything… was I?”

           That spurs Castiel into action. “No, no! You weren't… I am… I’m interested.”

           Dean relaxes, hand splayed against his chest. “Good, got nervous there for a second.” He looks to Castiel, waiting. “So…?”

           They exchange numbers, Dean handing Castiel’s phone back with a wink and a promise to call later. Then he heads back to the garage to smooth out the scratches on his car.

           Castiel stands there, outside the leather shop, too shocked to move. Somehow he gains control of his legs again and picks one up after the other.

           When he makes it to the bus stop, Castiel pulls his phone out and stares at Dean’s number. Butterflies flutter in his stomach as the largest smile blossoms on his face.

           It stays there all the way back to his apartment.

[the-y-generation]

Not My Type (Chapter 3)

Summary: “Do you know how you stop a craving? You give in to it.”

When she signed on to be a road manager, she had no idea it was going to be for one of the biggest bands in the world, much less how they were going to turn her life upside down, nor how she was about to flip theirs too. Especially one irritating frequently-late vocalist who knew exactly how charming he could be.

Pairing: Idol!Jimin / Manager!Original Character (I personally haven’t written in “y/n” format, so I just gave the reader a name, but barely even mention it)

Genre/Themes: fluff, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers

Rating: Starts off G, but M in later chapters

Status: Ongoing (Masterlist)

Things got better between her and Jimin after the awards fiasco. Not right away, and definitely not painlessly, but they got there eventually.

Jimin would still be late but only sometimes now, and she’d no longer want to rip his head off. Nowadays, when he’s come rushing in, aware of how late he was, he’d flash the irate girl his best boyish smile - the one where his eyes scrunched up into crescents and he showed all his pearly whites.

In retaliation, she’d reach over and flick him on the forehead once, just to slip the cheeky grin off his face and earn a few chuckles from his bandmates.

Other times, he’d take the charming route - leaning in close when she fixed his collar until their faces were only a breath away, and her every exhale pushed into his lips. He’d stare so deeply into her eyes, it was almost as if he could read the future of the universe in them.

Jimin knew what he was doing. But so did she.

Most of the time, she’d shove him on the shoulder and walk away.

But sometimes, when she was particularly frustrated with him, she’d hold his spell and push back. She’d lean in even closer, just until she could almost feel the warmth of his mouth on hers. She'd watch the panic slowly simmer in his eyes that she might actually finish what he started. Then Jimin would back away and let her win that round.

So it went, their little game of cat and mouse when they were on the clock as road manager and artist.

But when they were off the clock, things went a little differently.

Being of the same age, they forged a friendship that was easy-going and relaxed. Without a senior-junior dynamic, the two built a bond as equals, founded on their ability to make fun of the other, where both could be their authentic selves.

She laughed at his dumb jokes and put extra pieces of fruit on his plate. He let her sort out his messy suitcase and stole from her fries. She borrowed his plain sweaters sometimes. He used her hair products.

Without the underlying tension of work, they became fast friends, much to the relief of the rest of the band. Namjoon was particularly grateful as he was getting tired of having to pull the two apart, in fear that one might actually murder the other.

Now, she and Jimin exchanged spare hotel room keys, knowing that they’d end up hanging out in each other’s rooms anyway.

But sometimes, on their days off, she wanted to be alone. Like today.

She decided to stay in her room and get some quality rest. It had been an exhausting week - they crossed a continent, she fought with one venue partner for not providing an airconditioned dressing room (“There are seven of them! What are you going to do if one of them collapses with a heat stroke in this cramped room?!”) and Hoseok had a wardrobe malfunction last night.

Feeling like she deserved some Me Time, she planned out her day - sleep in, grab a fancy brunch, get a mani-pedi, and end the day with a long soak in the tub.

But Jimin and Jungkook seemed to have other plans.

Just as she had finished getting dressed for her brunch out, the pair barged into her room unannounced and plopped down on her bed.

She rolled her eyes at them in the mirror as she applied some light lipstick. Jungkook rolled over and buried himself under the covers while Jimin laid on top of the sheets and met her gaze in the mirror with a curious smirk of his own.

“Don’t tell me you have a date,” Jimin asked as she fluffed her hair.

She chuckled. “Fine then. I won’t tell you.”

The boy frowned, brows meeting to scrunch up his button nose. “So you do have a date?”

“I thought you said not to tell you.”

It was Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes and groan at her. “Fine. Be that way.”

She laughed and turned around to face them properly instead of having to converse through the mirror.

“I’m going out to brunch by myself, okay?” She said, starting to pack her essentials into her purse. “So you guys are gonna have to leave the room.”

“You’re not gonna invite us?” Jungkook pouted, voice muffled by the pillow partially suffocating him.

“Nope, I just want some personal time today.” She shrugged unapologetically.

She turned to face Jimin to tell him not to use his spare key to enter her room without her permission while she was gone. But the second she met his eyes, she immediately regretted it.

He looked at her with the full force of his puppy dog eyes, his baby cheeks puffed out, and his plump lower lip pushed out in a boyish pout.

It was adorable and sexy, and just about everything sinful in the world.

“Are you sick of us already?” He pouted at her.

She stabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. “Put that face away before I make you regret it.”

He laughed hard, the type that squeaked at the end, causing the pout to slip from his lips. Then, without prompting or permission, he crouched over her open suitcase lying by the foot of her bed.

“Is this a BTS sweater?” Jimin chuckled, holding up an oversized black sweater.

“No shit,” She deadpanned, eyeing the “BTS” printed in big bold letters at the back, with their tour dates underneath.

Jungkook got to his feet as well and joined Jimin in violating her privacy. She remained standing as she watched them - like little kids digging for treasure, they sifted through her clothes in search of more of their merch.

“Why do you have so many of our shirts?!” Jungkook asked amusedly, holding up another band shirt with "BT21" printed on it.

Anna glanced at her watch, resigned to the fact that she’s going to have to let them ride this curiosity out. With a sigh, she sat on her bed, her ankle gently kicking Jimin’s shin as he sat on the floor by her feet.

“You guys own a lot of your own merch too, you know?” She countered, smirking at Jungkook. “I figured I should buy some too.”

Jimin snapped his head towards her, eyes wide in confusion. “Wait, you actually bought these?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Jimin looked at her like she just grew two heads. “Why would you buy them? You could just ask us to get you some.”

“But I didn’t want to do that." Anna shrugged, lifting her feet to fully sit on the bed. "That’s like abuse of position or something.”

“But you’re with us. You shouldn’t have to pay for our merch." Jimin replied.

"Yeah. Do you think Taehyung would go to a store and pay for his own band’s shirt?" Jungkook chimed in.

She rolled her eyes at their strange sense of protectiveness. They really got worked up over the weirdest things.

“Well, Jin buys every RJ he comes across, so what’s your point?” She countered. The two boys opened their mouths to retort, but nothing came out. Taking advantage of their silence, she swept the conversation under the rug. “And anyway, you can’t do anything about it now. I already bought them so….relax.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes at her in a final attempt at being intimidating but continued sifting through her pile of shirts.

"Oh! Speaking of-" Jungkook exclaimed, holding up a Tata shirt.

The two boys exchanged looks, starting with pleasant surprise, blending into mischief.

“Did you get all of the characters?” Jimin asked, but he needed no answer. He and Jungkook were already halfway through her suitcase and elbows-deep in her clothing. The exasperated manager sighed, already anticipating that she had a lot of cleaning up to do later.

“I think so?" She chuckled, leaning back on her elbows while keeping an amused gaze on the child-like boys before her. "I don’t even know anymore.”

They continued digging, laughing at each character they find - an RJ sweater, a Cooky hoodie, a Van shirt, and so on.

But when they reached the bottom of her luggage and her suitcase lay nearly empty on the floor, Jimin looked up at her with doe-eyed confusion.

“Where’s Chimmy?”

God bless those eyes. That hair. It's disrespectful, really.

Wait. He asked a question. What did he say?

“What?” She blinked at him.

“Chimmy." He repeated, pointing a finger at himself. Then he looked down, gesturing to the shirts that lay before him. "You have everyone but Chimmy. Where’s Chimmy?”

Anna tilted her head, sifting through her memories of interviews and fan merchandise, to try and place what the hell a Chimmy was. Eventually, the visual of a yellow hoodie-wearing chubby-cheeked canine came to the forefront of her brain.

“That’s the yellow dog, right?”

“What the-" He choked, jaw slack with shock and distaste. "Yes! Yes, the yellow dog.”

“Oh. I think I don’t have that.”

He looked like she might as well have slapped him across the face. Or kicked him in the balls. Or told him that she was a puppy murderer.

“Why not?” He whined.

“I don’t know, okay?" She rushed to backpedal. "I just...don’t? I’ll buy one next time.”

Jimin didn't respond, looking positively livid and thunderous that it made her head spin with confusion. Then, without another word, he got on his feet and stormed out.

The slamming of the door rang through the stillness of the room.

"O...kay?" Jungkook broke the awkward silence. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea." Anna chuckled dryly, still staring at the door.

"Did he seriously leave me?" Jungkook groaned, rising to his feet. "We actually came here to invite you to lunch, but I guess that's not happening anymore.

"I'm sorry." She pouted at him.

But before she could continue, a sound came from the door, pulling Anna's and Jungkook's attention.

Jimin stomped back into the room, eyes blazing so much that Anna had to look away. He clutched some balled-up black thing in his hand, which he aggressively chucked into her suitcase. Then, he spun on his heel and stormed back out.

Anna and Jungkook didn't move, gazes transfixed on whatever the hell Jimin just tossed in the suitcase. Eventually, she snapped out of it and reached for the offending item.

It was his Chimmy shirt.

[blouisparadise]

There were so many amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) When Boys Become Drugs | Not Rated | 274 words

Louis' always been a wild child.

2) Imagine | Not Rated | 1203 words

"...Imagine a world like that."

Where Harry and Louis talk about what life would have been like if they did not decide to join the band and ran away together, but they quickly realize they would not be as strong and as in love as they are here in this moment in time if they would not have taken the risk. And no matter what they came face to face with, they both knew that in their hearts that they would be the definite endgame for one another and nothing could tear them apart.

Inspired by Ariana Grande's single, 'Imagine.'

3) You Make My Heart Race | Explicit | 1333 words

Louis just wants to have it rough, Harry gives him rough.

4) Scars Don't Make You Ugly | Mature | 1604 words

Sometimes Louis needs to be reminded that hes beautiful

5) Falling Too Deep | Explicit | 2895 words

Niall helps Harry find someone spend his rut with.

Louis can make alphas drop.

6) No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way | Explicit | 3787 words

The one where Harry has a particular desire that only Louis can fulfil.

7) One Touch Is Never Enough | Explicit | 3854 words

It’s been a rough year for Louis. First, he was turned into a werewolf, which hasn't been so bad, except that he didn't anticipate how it would affect his love life. Maybe it’d be easier to ignore if he wasn’t constantly bombarded by the sound of his two werewolf best friends getting it on in the next room.

At least they were nice enough to give him a gift certificate for a massage.

8) I Don't Want A Taste (I Want It All) | Explicit | 3865 words

AU where Harry tells Louis to go fuck himself, Louis tells Harry to fuck him himself, and Harry follows through.

9) In This Light (I Fell For You) | Mature | 5334 words

Christmas AU where Harry is going to perform his very first concert and Louis is his mute (and very supportive) boyfriend. Also lots of kittens, bad puns and boyfriends being cute.

10) Azaleas Where Your Face Should Be | Explicit | 5626 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Harry and Louis having some sexy time and some sappy time and sometimes both at the same time.

11) Searching For A Sweet Surrender | Explicit | 7250 words

The one where Louis is acting extra bratty at Ed's wedding and Harry gives him exactly what he needs.

12) Beautifully Broken | Mature | 7827 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis's a little broken, but that's okay. Harry's studying to be a psychologist. They bond over thrift shop trinkets and vinyls. They make it okay.

13) Into It | Explicit | 9197 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis meets Harry. They hit it off.

14) The Heist | Explicit | 9423 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

“If you sabotage us, I get a bullet in my head. You’re willing to let me die just so you can avenge your-“ Harry pauses, glancing over Louis’ shoulder to see Liam and Zayn watching them carefully. Their eyes are squinted, arms crossed and ready to step in if need be. “Just so you can take care of some unfinished business?” Harry questions uneasily. Without hesitation, Louis replies, “Yes.” Harry grits his teeth together in frustration before stepping back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he feels a headache creep into his temples.

15) If Walls Could Talk | Explicit | 10028 words

Harry is in love with his straight best friend. He thinks he doesn't have a chance, until Louis presents him with a challenge he can't refuse.

16) Tattooed Heart | Explicit | 10035 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Is that fucking real?”

Harry grins. “Feel for yourself.”

A curious hand comes to trace over Harry’s chest, sighing in awe. “Harry.”

He watches him as he does it and wishes he had a camera on him, because the sight of Louis’ dainty hand caressing the beautiful L written in intricate cursive right over Harry’s heart has to be the single greatest thing he’s ever seen.

“Like it?” he asks.

“Harry,” Louis repeats, suddenly digging his thumb into the skin as if it was going to disappear at any second—it wasn’t, something Harry’s tattoo artist made sure of. “That’s—that’s permanent.”

“You’re permanent,” Harry replies, simple as can be.

17) Holding Back the Flood | Not Rated | 11454 words

Louis Tomlinson has always been the star of the Manchester Megalodons, beloved by his coach and looked up to by his teammates. He won’t stand for anyone stealing his limelight, especially Harry fucking Styles...

18) Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies | Explicit | 14860 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

“Of course you’d use your free time to go to the gym.”

“Your idea of the best way to spend your free time is annoying your neighbors,” he laughs, dimples carved into his cheeks like marble.

No, Louis likes to annoy Harry. Everyone else on this floor is just an unfortunate casualty.

“No one has complained except for you,” Louis informs him smartly. Which is actually a good thing. If someone other than Harry had complained to him long ago, he would have unfortunately had to stop.

19) Pleasure Over Matter | Explicit | 15204 words

Harry is a bit out of his element, and an unsuspecting stranger provides him temporary relief.

20) I Been Feeling High When I Touch Your Body | Not Rated | 16946 words

Harry is a boxer, Louis is an architect and Liam is the worst cupid that could ever exist.

21) The Dream That You Wish | Explicit | 21543 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Disneyland!AU where the park's Peter Pan is rumoured to be fooling around with Prince Charming in the castle. There's also Baymax desperately trying to capture the heart of Pooh Bear while shift manager boyfriends Niall and Shawn are tired of watching it all go down in the happiest place on Earth.

22) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

It’s like all week, Harry is a normal person. Him and Louis don’t know each other, don’t acknowledge each other but if they did, it would be with disdain. Then on Sundays, they gravitate towards each other without fail.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

23) Etched in Salt (Is a Cathedral of the World) | Explicit | 24416 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

24) Sweet Dreams Are Made of This | Mature | 30004 words

Loosely based on The Wedding Date. Inspired by 27 Dresses. Basically, Fake Boyfriend AU with a twist. Louis' sister is unknowingly getting married to the ex who broke his heart. When faced with the prospect of turning up alone, Louis panics and hires a corporate escort named Harry. General chaos and epic jealousy ensues.

25) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

26) Long Road To Ruin | Explicit | 38655 words

Note: This BL Exchange fic was posted in December, but it wasn’t made public until January. That’s why we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

"I remember thinking I would have done anything you ever asked me to do, without reserve. I was a fool to think that maybe you’d grow to do the same for me." Or the one where two people can be in love but not belong to each other.

27) I Just Wanna Get Back to Us | Mature | 62131 words

Where Harry and Louis are divorced soulmates who are seeing each other for the first time in two years.

28) Non-Disclosure | Mature | 170219 words

Being a world class Director, producing some of the best rated Romance movies to date, Louis was easily a sucker for the ‘Happy Ever After’.

Except, in a world where he pretends and imagines true love. He was stuck inbetween what he thought was the love of his life and everything trying to stop them.

"I did a lot of thinking when I was gone and every scenario I came up with ended with you. I'm fucking scared and I have no idea what will happen from now but I'd risk it all, if you could promise me a lifetime"

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[purplebenjy]

1998

For the second time in his life, Benjy Fenwick had just been dumped. And it still sucked.

What had happened with Ollie had been as close to amiable as break ups could be, but what happened with Lisa cut deep.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

She’d said this against his lips when his hands were under her shirt. He’d laughed, thinking she was joking because she didn’t like what he was doing, but when Lisa had pulled away fully, Benjy had stopped laughing. He redid his pants and sat up in his back seat of the Honda Civic his brothers all pooled together to buy him for his sixteenth.

“Uh, okay? Why?”

Lisa had shrugged and fixed her blouse.

“I’ve got a crush on someone else.”

Jealousy had bloomed in his chest by then and Benjy felt his jaw twitch when he spat out the word “who?”

Lisa fished a pack of cigarettes out of the front pocket of her jeans and lit up. Annoyed, Benjy leaned over her and rolled down the window.

“Does it matter?”

Benjy sucks on his bottom lip for a second.

“What’s he got that I don’t?”

It was pathetic and he knew it, but he was blindsided. He thought things were going good. Not great, but good. Lisa was hot with long blonde hair and good tits. Not great, but good. She liked the same bands as he did, always dated skateboarders and tried to look like Courtney Love. She’d taken one of his flannels and hadn’t given it back and sometimes she blew him in his car after they went to the movies. It wasn’t love, but he was having a good time with her. He liked her a whole lot and she gave him attention and clout among his friends. He figured they’d at least go to prom together in a few months. Benjy watched as she shifted a little in her seat, ashed her cigarette out the window.

“He’s just different, Benjy. I don’t know.”

“Different how?” He tried to keep his voice level, but it still cracked. He reached for her hand but she pulled away.

“You’re a little uh....gay.”

He stared at her as she turned her face to look out the window.

“Groovy.” Benjy muttered, before sliding up and over the center console and into the driver’s seat. He punched the radio off, cutting Cheryl Crow off mid song. They sat in silence, the only sound Benjy’s exhaust. He pulled up in front of Lisa’s house and his brakes screeched as he parked.

“Benjy...” He flicked his eyes up to the backseat to look at her.

“It’s nothing personal.”

Before he could even say anything, she slid out of his back seat and was gone. This sentence has been haunting him ever since. It’s been two days and today when he saw her after fifth period, she was sucking face with that asshole named Trent.

Benjy doesn’t quite remember what happened after that, just Trent’s fist in his face and now his lip is swelling up. He cut the rest of the day and now he was here in the skatepark, trying and failing to try the new kind of flip he’d been practicing for weeks.

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Shit-“

He falls hard on his back, his board going up the half pipe and then falling back down to hit him in the ribs. As he slowly gets up, Benjy decides one thing;

It’s time to make it personal.

~

It starts out innocent enough, a couple cans on spray paint that he finds on clearance at the hardware store. Finding Asshole Trent’s car is easy too, he’s got a racing stripe on a fucking Jeep. He’s a surfer instead of a skater if the stupid board on the top of his stupid car is any stupid indication. Benjy doesn’t stalk them per se, just follows them to the beach. And waits in his own car until they run off into the waves. And pulls his sweatshirt tight around his face when he runs out of his car, low to the ground, doing a somersault partially to cover more distance but also cause it’s fun. He stands out wildly at the beach, and when he glances around, he sees a mother start to pull her two children in the opposite direction, glaring at him. Benjy snorts out his first laugh in two days and shakes the spray paint can, spraying the day-glo orange over the white Jeep with its stupid green racing stripe;

“Nothing personal.”

~

Trent’s stupid car, now complete with Benjy’s new tag, was the talk of the school. Most people were able to figure out it was him, but no one beyond Lisa and her new surfer girl aesthetic seemed to care. Benjy had a new hobby. The nothing personal tag started showing up all over his high school campus and around town, usually in whatever color was on clearance that week.

Suki was taking on extra kids during the day as a pseudo daycare so she didn’t have the time to notice that Benjy was late nearly every day thanks to either detention or running around, tagging the town. She didn’t notice, not at all, until he got a ride home in the back of a police cruiser.

All he was trying to do was to tag “nothing personal” on a wall on the side of an alley, when he’d gotten spotted. He’d stopped wearing the hoodie, mostly cause it was warming up but also cause it kept fucking with his hair-naturally that would be his downfall. Benjy’d been so good at out running the cops, so good at climbing trees and dirt mounds and sides of buildings to get away, but the bane of his existence, of course, was a chain link fence. The cop had basically picked him off the links like an apple and had detained him easily, pushing Benjy up against the fence after he’d pulled him down in a way he didn’t totally hate after he’d noticed how built the cop’s arms were. Pissed at himself for getting caught and at this strangely hot cop for catching him, Benjy refused to tell him anything, which resulted in a very confusing search for his wallet after he’d been handcuffed. The cop marched Benjy back to his squad car and all but thrown him inside. He hears the cop call in his name to the radio, reading it off of his driver’s license. He hears something he can’t quite make out and from his spot in the backseat through the bars, he sees hot cop balk.

“Are you sure?”

“Affirmative.”

The car’s engine flips over.

“Where do you live, kid?”

“Get fucked.”

Hot Cop mumbles something and his car squawks once as he starts to back up. And now Benjy still sat there, in the backseat with the bracelets digging into his wrists as the cop talks to his mom. Benjy hears the sound of another car pull up behind them and he twists around just in time to see the person get out of the car. And when Benjy sees who it is, fear shoots through him for the first time that afternoon.

It’s Alastor Moody, his dad’s old partner. He’s not in uniform like the hot cop, instead he’s in a pretty nice suit. When Al looks into the window, Benjy shrinks back into the seat. He watches him as he speaks to the other officer, who then nods and gets into the car Moody showed up in. He twists back around and something tugs at his chest when he watches his mom wipe at her face, obviously upset. He didn’t get why this had to be a big deal, it was just a stupid wall. He wasn’t hurting anyone, if anything he was making a boring thing look better. He sits up straighter now, his argument formed, but it dies in his throat when Al opens the driver side door and wordlessly starts the car. Benjy waits for him to say something, anything. For him to start yelling at him, tell him he’s a disappointment, a delinquent, anything. But nothing. Just silence. Especially when Moody punches off the radio.

“Are you going to read me my rights or what, old man?”

He’s trying to goad him, and it works. Kind of. Moody quietly rolls into a stop and glances up at him in the review mirror.

“You’re not under arrest.”

Somehow this makes Benjy more uneasy. He tugs at the handcuffs, making them clink.

“Then can you take these off?”

“Nope.”

Benjy grunts and props himself up against the door, chin on the windowsill, as much as he can be to be out of view of Al.

They drive for what feels like half an hour, but is probably ten more minutes, getting further out of the middle of town.

“Al?”

“So it’s Al now, not old man?”

“....are you going to kill me?”

Alastor chuckles darkly.

“Probably not.”

“Do you have your gun on you?”

“Do you need me to answer that?”

“Shit.”

He hears Moody chuckle again, and before Benjy knows it, they’re on the Golden Gate Bridge, driving out of the city completely.

“Are you taking me to military school?”

“Shut up, Benjy.”

He does, the events of the past few weeks playing in his head. Lisa. The tag. “You’re a little uh...gay.” Nothing personal. His mom crying. His spray paint covered hands forced behind his back right this moment.

“Al?”

“You’re really bad at following directions.”

“Do I seem too gay to you?”

The eyes that flick back towards him at the next stop light are confused now.

“Are you gay?”

“No.”

“But you....”

“You can be with guys and not be gay.”

“Okay okay, bite my head off. I’m trying to learn. So what’s seeming ‘too gay?’”

Benjy shrugs as best as he can.

“I dunno. Like I’m not masculine enough or something. Fucked up and wrong. Weird or girly or something-“

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Al says forcibly, before hitting his turn signal and exiting the freeway they were now on. “Well I mean, you’re a degenerate-“

“And artist-“

“-but other than that. Nothing. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Benjy sits up properly now, not totally believing him. They’re quiet again, but it’s not the scary quiet from before, it’s different. Loaded. Benjy waits a few more minutes before he breaks it.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“....did I uh, say sorry about that yet?”

Moody pulls over, getting out of the car and sliding into the backseat beside Benjy. He undoes the handcuffs and clips them to his belt.

“I’m not the one you need to be sorry to, Benj.”

“Well is someone else gonna come and kidnap me so I can apologize to them-I’ll shut up now.” He cuts himself off based on Moody’s look. “Who do I need to be sorry to? My mom?”

Moody sighs and gets out of the car, walking around the front to open the other door.

“Get out. Do you know where we are?”

“Uh...” He looks around, seeing older kids with backpacks, some on bikes and skateboards. Someone’s playing guitar on a bench. “Somewhere with hippies?”

Moody chuckles, ushering Benjy to the sidewalk.

“You’re not wrong. This is UC Berkeley, Benj. Your art teacher thinks you’re good enough to get in here if you keep going in the way you’ve been. And I mean, I don’t know nothing about nothing but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’re too shabby either . But you know who they don’t let in?”

It clicks as Moody stares him down.

“.....I’m guessing people with arrest records?”

Moody claps him on the shoulder.

“Bingo. I’m not ever gonna bail you out like this again, kid. I did this for your mom and your dad, yeah, but uh...I mostly did it for you. This looks a lot better to me than prison but...”

Moody shrugs.

“If you wanna throw away something great, that’s your choice. But if you do, the only person you’ll need to say sorry to is yourself.”

Moody lets go of his shoulder and gets in the car. Benjy stares at campus, the ideas Moody planted wiggling around in his brain. He could get in here? People thought he was good enough? He looks a little closer at the people sitting on the grass. They’re dressed a little strange, loose clothes and long hair and just...different. Like him.

He turns to the police cruiser window, hitting it with his knuckles until Moody cracks it.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with me?”

“Other than too much energy and a bad haircut? No.”

“Rude.” Benjy fails to hide his smile in a scowl. His smile grows as he looks at campus. It looks a lot more fun than prison; or even just regular old high school. A strange thrill shoots through him when he notices one of the students on the grass is laying on the lap of another boy. They’re talking about something and the boy laying down laughs before reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his boyfriend’s ear. Someone whizzes past him on roller skates and breaks the moment. Benjy turns back to the car window.

“Can I get a ride home?”

Moody takes a sip from his travel mug.

“Only if it’s in the back seat.”

Benjy groans.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Oh, and your mom told me to tell you you’re super grounded.”

“I figured.” Benj says with a shrug of his own as he casually opens the back door of the cop car and throws the few people across the street giving him strange looks a grin and a wave as he hops in.

“You keep the meter running?”

“I can still arrest you.”

Benjy laughs, suddenly a lot lighter. He sits on the side closest to campus so he can look at for as long as possible as Moody drives away.

“Al?”

“Yeah?”

Benjy leans forward as close to him as he can, face pressed up against the bars.

“Thanks.”

Al just nods, turning on FM radio.

“Don’t fuck it up.”

Benjy settles back in his seat, fingers twitching as he already wants to get home and sketch, suddenly much more motivated. He’s hoping he’s not grounded from that. He wants to get home and apologize, maybe even grovel and try to make it up to his mom. Unfortunately, right before they get to the bridge, they hit rush hour traffic. Benjy shifts in his seat, pressing his face against the bars again.

“Can you turn on the siren?”

“Nope.”

“Pussy.”

It might be a trick of the light, but he swears he sees Moody smile.

[nicolemagolan]

Books I Read In June 2019

This month was nearly entirely dominated by science-fiction, but Nicholas Eames’ high fantasy novel prevented that. I have no regrets! Not a wholly satisfactory reading month, as these books ranged from excellent to underwhelming. Read on to find out which was which!

Sand by Hugh Howey

3.5/5 stars

“And so it went, sand piling up to the heavens and homes sinking toward hell.”

Sand is a sci-fi story in the same vein as Howey's previous Wool series, set in a scary dystopian future. This one, however, despite being exceptionally well-written, falls short of greatness.

The plot doesn't ever seem to go anywhere -- nowhere interesting anyway. There is a lackluster feeling to the world-building, and a lack of threat because of this. In this world, the characters live in a desert, and make their living by diving through sand as if it's water to collect treasures buried under the dunes. An interesting concept, but the society around it was not explained much, and I am left unsure of how their society actually functions.

The characters were great though. The focus was on a family of 4 siblings, and I loved seeing their dynamics and how they played off each other. There was a lot a nuance to the characters and their relationships.

Hugh Howey is an excellent writer. There were so many beautifully crafted sentences and paragraphs, and riveting action scenes. The dive scenes were horrifying and enthralling. I was constantly in awe of how good Howey's writing style is. Despite the lack of world building, Sand developed a gritty atmosphere that I enjoyed. I'm looking forward to reading more of his work, but I hope they're more balanced.

I was under the impression that Sand tied into Wool in some way, but I couldn't find a connection. It's possible that the buried cities are the Silo's, but it wasn't used for any effect. Could have been any old city, and it wouldn't make a difference. I was disappointed at the false advertising.All in all, I would recommend the Wool trilogy over this. But, if you read and enjoyed that this might just fill the void.

The Walking Dead, Issue #192: Aftermath by Robert Kirkman, Charlie Adlard (Cover Art), Dave Stewart (Cover Art), Stefano Gaudiano (Artist), Cliff Rathburn (Artist)

5/5 stars

I can't believe they actually did the thing. This issue is brilliant. I don't have anything else I could possibly say.

Star Wars Battlefront II: Inferno Squad by Christie Golden

4/5 stars

“It’s all for the glory of the Empire, honey, and don’t you forget it.”

Another win for the new Star Wars canon! Inferno Squad is a gripping tale of undercover imperial agents going undercover in the Rebellion to find out where or who is leaking top secret information. It's somewhat lacking in true white-knuckle action, but it makes up for that with well-developed and distinct characters. Iden Versio, the lead character, at first seems like the typical Empire-loving, cold, and one-dimensional trooper that we're familiar with in Star Wars canon. But as the story unfolds, her character builds into a complex, intriguing, and empathetic -- and yet still rather cold -- lead. 

I was worried this would be a typical, cheesy story of an imperial agent suddenly realising the error of their ways and joining the rebels...but that wasn't the case. Nor was it completely a one-note "the Empire is always right" perspective; there was enough nuance to keep it compelling. 

As for the other characters, they were all fine, and developed individuality. But I didn't feel there were any other standouts. 

There were a few cringey moments within the writing style -- MULTIPLE instances of "they let out a breath they didn't know they were holding"...Can we let this overused line die, PLEASE. And descriptions were a bit lackluster. But for a Star Wars novel, I would say it was actually pretty decent.

I highly recommend this to Star Wars fans!

Kings of the Wyld by Nicholas Eames 

4/5 stars

“As individuals they were each of them fallible, discordant as notes without harmony. But as a band they were something more, something perfect in its own intangible way.”

Kings of the Wyld is an epic romp through a world both colourful and gritty. It has incredibly balanced flavours of Rock & Roll and hard-hitting fantasy. Plus, it's hilarious. And heartfelt. And totally badass.

Okay, Kings of the Wyld is a little vulgar for my tastes. The language and gore doesn't pull punches, and the depiction of female characters is sometimes over-sexualised. Not always though, thankfully, and it's usually for some purpose. 

The world-building is wack. The fantasy setting feels like it's being pieced together with bright lego bricks as you read, but sometimes instead of sticking together lego, you're just getting pelted with mud. Information about the world is dropped in dialogue and metaphor as if you already have any clue what they're talking about. Sometimes it works, sometimes it's overwhelming. The informal and funny style of writing gives it a cartoony feel (and I don't mean that in a negative way), and it feels very original while still reshaping classic tropes and paying homage to the greats.

But the characters. The characters. The story follows this group of old warriors, getting their mercenary band back together long after their glory days are over. They've settled down and had families, become fat and drunk, gone a bit mad. And when one of their daughters is in mortal danger, they reunite to take on the impossible quest to save her. 

The lead character is Clay Cooper: the sweetest, most wholesome murderer you'll ever meet. Easy to root for, plenty of compelling back-story to dig into, and snarky comments galore.

My second favourite is the wizard Moog. He is a total weirdo and he knows it. I love how ridiculous and passionate he is.

There's Mattrick, who's become a sad, fat King with a terrible marriage and kids that aren't his. But he's still a menace with his knives.

Gabriel is the leader of the group, and the one who is trying to find his daughter. He was one of the less-developed characters, but it worked because he was wholly focused on his daughter. His love for her was nice.

Lastly there's Ganelon, the terrifying warrior with no emotions. Except there are emotions! The scenes showing his vulnerability are fantastic, but where he truly shines is the battlefield.

The comradeship of the band is so natural and entertaining. Their relationships felt fully developed and like they had real history. They are so easy to root for!

The plot does plod a bit, with a bunch of mini-quests along the way that begin to drag towards the end. I think one or two of the little adventures could have been cut-down for the sake of building towards the epic final battle and touching conclusion.

I'll definitely be looking out for more from this author. And if you want a fantasy novel that's a little something different, definitely give this a go!

Brightly Burning by Alexa Donne

2/5 stars

Brightly Burning is a retelling of the classic Jane Eyre, but set in space! Wooooo! I don't know why I thought I would like this. It does exactly what it says on the tin. It has the plot, characters, and atmosphere of Jane Eyre. But when a character looks out a window...it's space. Maybe if I was a huge fan of the original story, I would be able to appreciate this re-imagining of it. But I don't think Brightly Burning did anything exceptionally interesting with the premise. The language is full of modern colloquialisms that are weirdly balanced with the futuristic world building. It often feels cheesy or just plain silly to me, but this is much lighter sci-fi than I anticipated. I'm kinda dumb though, because of course it's a fluffy/angsty/tropey romance and not a compelling, twisty, or fresh sci-fi take on the classic story. It serves its purpose and it does so with moderate success. me @ me, closing this book:

Sleeping Giants by Sylvain Neuvel

3/5 stars

Sleeping Giants is..........good? I guess? It's a kinda entertaining sci-fi tale told through interviews, self-recorded journals and other audio files. It follows a cast of mostly-military characters as they discover and search for the scattered remains of some strange and potentially alien technology. This premise could really be taken in any direction...unfortunately the compelling concept is bogged down by a dumb LOVE TRIANGLE. Whyyyyy. Minor spoiler territory here, but it becomes clear early on that the alien tech is essentially a mech-style robot thingy. I am wondering how anime it's gonna get, when one of the characters is like 'gee, this sure is something out of Star Wars huh.' GIRL WHAT. No. It really isn't. Anywayyy I love the title, and the cover, and the characters are well-developed. Nothing of real interest happens within the story to be honest, and the ending is kinda lame. I'm not interested in the sequels but I appreciated my time with the audiobook -- it has a full and talented cast.

My reading hopes for next month are high as Semester 1 is over and my holiday has begun! I have big reading plans, folks. Big plans. Like, 5,000 page plans. :) 

Have you read any of these books? Let me know what you thought of them!

[momentsinsong]

Moments In Song No. 021 - Tromac Pineapple

“Moments In Song” asks people one simple question, “What are you listening to?” For every installment we ask someone to make a playlist of 10 songs they’re listening to, whether it be something new they stumbled upon, or a song they’ve always loved, and explain the story behind their choices. We aim to show that no matter where we come from, what we do, or what we look like, music has the ability to bring us together.

DMV producer/rapper/DJ Tromac Pineapple reaches every corner of Hip-Hop and brings it together in his playlist. We talk to him about digging through Bandcamp for music, what makes a good DJ, and his new project the Velour Vandal EP.

Listen to Tromac’s playlist on Apple Music and Spotify. 

Words and photos by Julian.

_________________________________________________________

Julian: First thing I wanted to ask you is what the thought process was behind making your playlist? People always say it’s hard picking 10 songs to squeeze into it. 

Tromac: Well I wanted to spread across my taste as wide as possible. I actually had a hard time once I got to like 7 songs because I was like, “Damn, I can only put in three more of those joints, but I know 5 that I could pick.” I pretty much just wanted to touch on the different types of music I like. I still didn’t even get across all of it.

I noticed that a majority of the playlist was Hip-Hop, but different types of Hip-Hop. You have some boom bap stuff with “Free (Type Shit),” Dilla, and Anderson. Then you have more turn up stuff like WiFIGawd and Ghostie. That Ghostie song caught me off guard. It has a little house feel to it that I wasn’t expecting.

Yeah see I had to add that, because Ghostie is one of the most versatile artists I know. As versatile as this playlist is, he’s six times as versatile as that. As a fellow producer in this area, I have a whole lot of respect for him. And that’s my mans, so I’ll be listening to it anyway. Shit be cranking, no matter what genre he tackles. And then I also have the “Free (Type Shit)” joint because it’s just so smooth and it hits. The beats, the boom bap. That’s one of my favorite things in Hip-Hop. It’s just so powerful. That’s also why I got the J Dilla joint on there. That’s like my favorite Dilla beat of all time. Straight slap, the drums, the snares. The whole thing. It's just hard. Classic. Undeniable.

When did you first really start listening to music and developing your own taste, instead of just listening to what was on the radio?

Pretty much when I was in 9th or 10th grade. Back then my main taste was just mixtapes and shit. The first favorite rapper I ever had was Lil Wayne, and he’s still like top 5 to me to this day. I would just listen to endless mixtapes, because before I graduated High School I just loved to listen to underground shit. I literally didn’t listen to albums and would only listen to mixtapes. I would listen to the first three Droughts, Sorry 4 the Wait. That was my favorite mixtape of all times for like 18 years (laughs).

Were you on DatPiff and all those sites?

Oh bruh, I had a DatPiff account, LiveMixtapes, Sprinrilla, all of that. 

So how did listening to mostly mixtapes branch off into listening to other types of artists and other types of music?

Well basically every now and then I would look into what was new that week…

Still on the mixtape websites, or is this on something else?

Yeah still the mixtape sites but at this point I also got into Bandcamp, and that was some real underground type shit. When I got into Bandcamp I was also making my own music at this point and was posting it on there. I would hashtag that shit and then click on them to see who else was posting music from Laurel, MD, or PG County, or just Maryland in general. That’s how I found a bunch of other local artists, like my homies Fonlon and Kente from NASA8, Tek.Lun and other guys. They had the same hashtags because we were all from Laurel. And then from there I would look at other hashtags like #HipHopBeats, and I would discover artists like Madbliss. Searching through hashtags led to me finding a bunch of random bands on Bandcamp, and I feel like that really opened the door for me to be on the lookout for other genres of music.

You said earlier this is when you started making music?

Yeah I started making music in 10th grade. 

So is that writing rhymes? Making beats? Both?

Making beats. I mean I was freestyling with my friends all the time, and writing rhymes down in my notebook, but I wasn’t rapping on beats until 11th grade, which was around 2013. I didn’t rap on my own beats until 2014 because I knew my shit wasn’t good (laughs). But it eventually got to a point where I could hit my own stuff instead of YouTube “type beats.” I knew early on “type beats” wasn’t the wave. It is the wave for some people, but it wasn’t the wave for me. And I knew that early on because you can’t really build a solid body of work just taking random beats. Even if you get a bunch of random beats from different producers, it’s more that needs to go into a project than that.

When you first started making music, who were some of your influences when it came to producing? I would assume Dilla is one, or did that not come until later?

I knew about J Dilla because I would hear my parents listen to Erykah Badu and Common, so when my Dad found out that I was making beats he would be like, “Oh so you wanna be like Dougie Fresh and J Dilla?” and I was like, “Who the hell are these people?” All I knew was like Mike WiLL Made-It because that was what I was hearing. I wasn’t too keen on producers at that level. The producers I did know were like Flying Lotus, Tek.Lun, Kaytranada, Sam Gellaitry and that was all through Soundcloud. Some of my favorite producers would be the ones I randomly found on Soundcloud.

Can you talk more about how discovering these local artists’ music on the internet led to you linking up with them, and not just working with them but them becoming your homies.

Literally just through showing love and support through the music. I started coming out here to Baltimore for events and chilling with the homies as a way to immerse myself in the scene. Of course, you met people, you tell people you do music, and eventually the link forms itself. And if you’re good the link grows with a lot of people. When you’re genuine, genuine things happen for you. I’ve never been a “clout chaser” or anything like that. It’s always been, “This dude is really dope. He’s the homie of my homie.” 

I agree with that 100%. I feel like every connection or relationship I’ve made with someone in the arts scene has been on some person to person type stuff. Not even like artist to artist, or creative to creative type stuff, but just like as a person. And I feel like you were saying it just grows from there. 

Definitely. People who are just creative in general. Photographers, painters, dancers, even like fucking bartenders. Athletes, anyone who’s mind moves faster than the normal individual. I remember when I was learning how to drive my driving instructor told me that people who are athletes and artists tend to get adapted to driving easier, because their brains work more than the average individual because they have a craft they need to constantly focus on. Whatever activity you’re involved in, your brain works harder to adapt to that.

So beats came first, and then the raps. Where does the DJing come into that?

So the DJing came in because I had probably performed 3 or 4 times rapping, but then I was really confident in my beats and I wanted to start performing my beats. By this time, 2015/2016, I would be seeing videos of dudes like eu-IV, j.robb, other producers I looked up to, random Boiler Room videos, and was thinking, “Why can’t I perform my shit?” So I started creating mixes in FL Studio, and learned to DJ through that. It was tedious as fuck, but I had time because I was kid and didn’t have shit to do (laughs). 

I feel like that shows in your sets now. The last one I saw from you, you had a transition from some house song to a Gucci Mane song that was crazy. Never would I have thought to put those two tracks together.

Literally when I DJ, I just play the music that I like. That Gucci Mane song just came back into my rotation like a week ago and I was just like, “Damn I don’t remember this shit being so hard. I gotta play this at a show!” A lot of it is on the fly. I don’t really plan too much outside of downloading the music. I always go off of the crowd and how I feel. Sometimes I’ll download 30 songs for a set and only end up playing like 13, and the rest of the set would’ve been made up of songs I’ve played at other shows.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had a show, and have been practicing the week before, and had a playlist ready, and you go in and the crowd is totally different, the energy changes, so you have to play off the cuff. I feel like as much emphasis you put on practicing and preparing, you also need to have the skill of being able to be on your toes and change on the drop of a dime.

I feel like if you’re a good DJ, that should already be a thing. You should know. You pick up on things like that automatically. The shows are practice. You’re not gonna get the same experience at a show, practicing at home. That’s why I feel like if you’re just starting out you should take as many opportunities as you can, and get a feel of what your lane is. I used to take any show I could. I would DJ baby showers, college pools parties, everything. You gotta find your lane, figure out what type of crowds your best in, and switch it up every now and then.

What can you tell me about the new project you got coming up? What kind of sound and themes can people expect from it? 

So the new project is called the Velour Vandal EP, and it’s basically establishing myself as a rapper in the game. I’ve had rap projects before, I’ve had beat tapes, but this is my first official EP. I want people to hear this and think, “Ok, Tromac is actually trying to make it type shit.” It’s really just a lot of crank on this joint, but it’s not like I was in this joint like, “Fuck your bitch…”

You put some thought into it.

Yeah! There’s some lyrics that you gotta ask about. I’m trying to make something that’ll hit, stick, and has good content. All the people I’m working with on it are people I know care and are passionate about music. The intro is produced by me and Koleco, I’m recording all of the songs with Martin J. Ballou, I got Vlad on a song, I got Ghostie. Pretty much have all people I know are serious about music. I want this project to be something. 

Yeah it’s like your introduction as a whole artist.

Yeah. And the whole thing behind the title is for like the last year or so, I’ve become really fond of velvet and have been buying a lot of it. People would always tell me I’m a bear, because I’m big and shit, soft and cuddly, just a cozy ass nigga. I have a thing where I give myself a bunch of alisas, and Velour Vandal just happen to be one of them, and I was like, “Hmm. I can do something with that.”

Any last words about your playlist and what you want the people to get from it?

I want people to go into it with a blank slate. Almost pretend like you’ve never heard music before, be reintroduced to all the different genres and aspects of these songs, and cultivate a new taste from that. 

Connect with Tromac Pineapple:

https://twitter.com/TromacPineapple

https://www.instagram.com/tromacpineapple/

https://soundcloud.com/tromac

Connect with Moments In Song:

https://www.instagram.com/momentsinsong/

https://twitter.com/moments_in_song

https://tinyurl.com/MISAppleMusic

https://tinyurl.com/MISSpotify

[entro-writes]

Every Road Home: Chapter 2 Flash Gordon.

A Prime All Might x Reader Fic

A week had passed since you had picked up your DVD of the original Batman movie. You sit huddled again on your couch, watching Adam West fluster around in his underwear-clad superhero suit, a comically large, paper mâché bomb held high above his head. He dodges nuns, a baby carriage, a marching band Then turns tail towards the sea, a flock of (clearly not wooden) ducks bob below. He looks around, exasperated.

“Some days you just can’t get rid of a bomb!” you say together with Mr. West. You smile.

You glance over to the lone DVD placed neatly on your shelf. Flash Gordon. You had reasoned that when you had first left the second-hand DVD shop that you had accidentally grabbed his DVD instead of your own. He must have totally forgotten to trade it with you when he brought you yours.

Several times you thought about bringing his DVD back to him, but you hadn’t seen him since. You had tucked yourself away, back to the comfort and safety of your apartment as if nothing had happened.

But still, the gentle yet strong laughter of his flitted through your thoughts. Maybe if you went back to the DVD store and left it there for him…no…you couldn’t bear seeing that cashier again. What if you waited on the spot where you had met—ridiculous as if he’d come back to that spot for no reason. You snort at your own train of thought, maybe a “Lost and Found” poster reading, “Found. One of the most gaudy, over-acted movies ever made (otherwise known as Flash Gordon), seeking ridiculously tall blonde to pick it up.”

Your phone buzzes.

You pick up the glowing screen and see it’s a text from your younger sister, Louise.

Not long ago, your sister had gone to New York, working there as a design artist for a new small-scale company that was making suits for heroes. Pride blossomed in your chest at the memory, she was incredibly talented and was definitely going places in life. You unlock your phone and read the message:

L: Hey you. What are you up to? 😊

You type back.

Saving the world, as usual. Just kidding. Still here. What about you?

In the blink of an eye she responds.

L: We have a new client! She’s so cool, her quirk gives her cat-like abilities and features, so I gotta work around those, designing this one will be SOOO much fun!!!! :0

Another few seconds.

L: …you know, I miss you a lot. I worry about you too. ☹

You bite your lip.

L: I know you’ve been going through a lot, the anxiety, depression, and stuff but…you need to get out of there. Go places. Meet people.

You type back.

Yeah. I wish I could. But I can’t.

Tears well up in your eyes. You feel so pitiful the way you are now. You put your phone down, ready to fall back into another pit of depression when it buzzes again.

L: I’ve got it! Why don’t you come and live with me here in New York?!

Your eyes widen.

What?! Really?!

L: No ur too much of a nerd LOL. Yeah of course you dummy! Just think of it!! The two of us, sharing a flat, taking on the big apple. We party! We geek out! Maybe you get out to the streets and meet a handsome stranger? ;)

You roll your eyes but a smile paints your face. Your heart thrums with excitement, But…

Then the usual feeling of intense dread takes over. New York is a massive city. With lots of noise and smell and worst of all…People. Even with your sister at your side you would be terrified, and you knew that all too well. Too many eyes watching you, too many heartbeats in one place.

Too many unsaid thoughts for you to accidentally pick up.

You shiver, the corners of your mind returning to that sickeningly familiar static. You try to breathe. Your thumb hovers over the keypad of your phone.

I can’t do it, it’s too much. It’s not like can afford it anyway.

You put down your phone. The screen glows again but you don’t read your sister’s reply. You curl yourself up into a ball on your couch. Coward. Stupid. Worthless. Pathetic. You feel your insides get tense, you clench your teeth. You taste salt on your lips as your eyes drip. You lay there and let yourself cry in silence for a long time.

You take a deep breath and wipe your damp face with your shirt.

You need…something.

You will yourself hard enough that you stand up. You grab a clean pair of socks, your shoes, your purse. You head towards your front door when you stop. You turn to look at the shelf and the lonely DVD sitting there. The memory of reassuring laughter fills your mind. You shove the DVD in your purse and walk outside.

The day is sweltering, once again but you know you have to be outside to tame your feelings. You don’t know where you are going so you wander around, past the neighborhood park with its scalding metal slide and rusty swings. All empty. You stop at the drinking fountain for a sip of room temperature water before wiping your face with your sleeve and moving on. You walk through a small cul-de-sac. The lawns vacant of all life except for a lawn gnome or two. A dog barks. Flies buzz around the trashcans set out for pick up. You walk. You’re already parched again. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. A cold soda sounds pretty good. There’s a gas station across the road.

You look both ways and step off to cross the street when everything seems to move both faster than the eye and slow motion at once.

The screeching of tires. The stench of burned rubber. The crunching of a bumper plate.

You cover your head with your hands, unable to put together a final thought when…

It stops.

You look up, confused when you see a long blue cape flutter around you. An impossibly tall man—no—hero stands between you and the vehicle that had nearly made you roadkill. His hands made massive dents in the front of the red convertible…he had stopped it with his bare hands and stood like it was nothing at all. He glances down at you with a familiar smile.

“Are you quite alright?”

You nod wordlessly.

He drops the car with a heavy clang, the two occupants shrieking in surprise.

“I think you’ve had quite enough of the joyride, you two. First my best friend’s car and now you nearly crushed this young lady. Turn yourselves in peacefully and no one will get hurt.”

The woman at the wheel has rat-like features, long teeth and whiskers, only made less attractive as she spits at the pavement before grabbing the man next to her, hopping out of the car and running for it.

The hero turns to pursue the two of them when the man lifted what looked like a remote detonator with his hand. The hero skids to a stop, instantly putting together the situation before leaping back towards you.

“GET DOWN.”

No sooner had he reached you then the car exploded, rattling the earth beneath your feet and shocking your eardrums. You carefully opened your eyes, finding that the hero had grasped you and tumbled you both over to the sidewalk. He has you cradled in his muscular arms, you feel his chest rise and fall once. He carefully unwraps you from his cape before dusting the debris from his shoulders and his V shaped bangs.

“Today isn’t turning out how you planned, I can imagine.” He says with a laugh.

Everything clicks.

He’s the same man you ran into that day at the DVD store.

You swallow hard and reach for your purse “I, uh—”

“Sorry, miss, but those two criminals are not far and I have to put a stop to this madness. We can talk later.” He turns and looks around, searching the area.

Your mouth opens and shuts like a fish.

The only building nearby is the gas station. He rushes in and you hear a loud clattering and a woman’s shout. You can’t help but get closer. You peer inside and see the fluorescent lights flicker. The hero stands silent. Listening. The floor erupts beneath him and he flips out of the way. Out from the earth comes the rat-faced woman, she had used her claws to dig underground. She swipes at his face, he dodges, yet his cheek gets sliced in the process. He sweeps his leg under her, knocking her off balance and she falls. He takes the opportunity and pounces on top of her, pinning her arms behind her back. In the flickering lights you see him pull out a pair of handcuffs.

The two of them walk out the still working sliding door of the gas station. The woman grimaces at you, her lip swollen and split from her fall.

The hero stares her down, an intensity to his ever-present smile. “I will find your accomplice, Ms. Johnson, either now or later. Tell me where he is and it’ll be better for the both of you.”

Suddenly static crackled in your head once again, causing your head to throb. You looked around. It was neither the woman nor the hero.

A piece of cloth came down from an air vent behind the two of them.

“—Bastard”

“BEHIND YOU!” you shout.

He hero spun around in a split second, his hand grasping the cloth in his hand as it wriggles with a life of its own. He tugs and the air vent brakes with a sharp twang, a pile of what looked like bandages fell to the ground.

“There you are, Mr. Threadborne.” The hero says as he pulls him closer with a jerk.

The pile of bandages comes to life and wraps itself together in the shape of a man. He snarls at the hero before offering his hands in defeat. The hero puts him in another pair of cuffs, one, you noticed, has a different design than the woman’s.

“Gauze Threadborne and Prairie Johnson, how lucky can a guy be to catch both you villains at once?” he laughs heartily.

He glances down at you, looking like he has something to say when you both hear sirens approaching. A pair of police cars swerve into the gas station. Four officers walk out and greet the hero before he explains the situation.

“These two were driving down this street, speeding in a stolen car, as usual when they nearly ran into this young lady. Luckily, I arrived on time to stop them. They unfortunately made a brief escape, taking advantage of a remote detonator that was held next to the engine of the stolen car. I tailed them to this gas station, the man employed here escaped without issue. We fought, and, thanks to this young lady, I was able to apprehend them both.”

The manner in which he says all this sounds much more professional than how he had spoken to you before.

The ratty woman, Prairie, screeches, cutting through their conversation. “I ain’t gettin’ inside that clunker, ‘specially not without my baby cakes in there with me!”

“Oh, sweetie pie don’t you fret,” coos the bandage man, Gauze. “We gon’ be together soon enough, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” He turns to the hero “…an’ when we get on the streets again, I’m gunna show this prick that was no way to treat my girl.” He hisses, his hollow eyes staring daggers.

The hero, meanwhile, looks totally oblivious to his threat. He smiles pleasantly at the police officer as he shakes his hand.

“Thanks for your help, All Might.” The officer says, adjusting his cap before climbing into his car. The officers take the criminals and speed off just as fast as they came.

The hero, apparently named All Might, peers down at you with a question in his bright blue eyes. You clear your throat once more.

“I-I um, think this is yours.” You hand him his copy of Flash Gordon.

This was going to be longer but, I think this is an ok length. Don’t wanna overdo it!

~Entro-pie