#I thought it was funny and finally had the time and energy to sketch it out

[justanartistiguess]

Did I ever mention that I love this show?

[bubble-leaves]

The Rainfall - Jel

Jel never sleeps, it nearly goes against his morals. The only time he’s able to go conscious is when he comes home from the docks at 7 AM. He sleeps until 9. Then it’s back to work. He rarely ever has dreams (despite his romantic swoons about how he dreams about you) due to his brain not being able to go into REM sleep in time. Jel is constantly exhausted, yet he effortlessly puts on a bright and alert persona. He couldn’t possibly let people know that his energy was low, as it would simply be unprofessional.

Of course, you are an exception. You can see his exhaustion as clear as day tonight.

Jel is not able to go to the docks tonight, which completely threw off his routine. It’s pouring rain outside, accompanied by terribly loud claps of thunder and lightning from time to time. Rain and storms are incredibly rare in Palia, so no one could have possibly predicted the havoc in the sky tonight. You’re stranded at Jel’s shop, as you too did not anticipate the rain. You hadn’t brought an umbrella, and Jel did not have one; he only had fashionable lace parasols. Jel had graciously offered his hospitality, and told you that you could stay the night if the storm didn’t pass soon. So, here you two are, inside Jel’s room and workshop. It’s quiet, apart from the calamity outside.

Because he’s unable to sit still and put his mind to rest, Jel is sitting in one of his lounging chairs, his legs curled up so he could place a sketchbook in his lap. You sit in the comfortable chair across from him. You can tell that he’s sketching out ideas for a future line; he’s been talking about starting a new one for a few days now. Although, you can also tell that he is so damn tired. His eyes can barely stay half-open, the strokes of his pencil are sparse in timing, and he often rubs his face. It appears the diversion from his usual night routine is making his mind finally realize it needs to rest.

The violent winds outside blow cacophonous rain against the roof of Jel’s shop. Jel looks up from his book for a brief moment to study the sound, then goes back to sketching . . . well, sort of.

“Do thunderstorms scare you?” You ask, finally breaking the silence between you two.

Jel’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. “Never. The storms are soothing, if not fascinating. Considering they rarely come.”

“I always found storms comforting, too,” You reply.

Jel takes a moment to continue conversing. His eyes are closed for a brief period of time, just before he opens them again with urgency.

“Ah!” He gasps. “Ugh … forgive me, (Y/N), I have no idea what is happening with me.”

You softly laughed. The sound made him blush and look at you with confusion. Did he say something funny?

“Jel, you’re tired,” You chuckle out.

He blinks a couple times, painfully slowly, then huffs melodramatically. “I am never as tired as this at this hour.”

You shrug. “Well, that’s because you’re usually on a stroll by this time.”

Jel deeply frowns, his face clearly annoyed. Not toward you, but himself. You understand and don’t mention anything.

“Hm. Ah, but I could produce so many concepts right now, my progress would be spectacular . . . ” He sighs sadly, then looks at you with barely open eyes. “How bad is it?”

You refrain from smirking at how adorably sleepy Jel looks right now. You say, “Pretty bad. You should probably sleep. Besides, when was the last time you got more than 2 hours of it?”

Jel looks away in thought, then simply shakes his head. “I see your point. I suppose I could use some proper rest.”

“Exactly,” You smile. “That’s, like, the first time I’ve ever heard you say something like that.”

You stand up and step over to Jel. He watches as you carefully take his sketchbook and pen, glancing up at your face more than once. You two are rarely this close in proximity. You place his book and pen upon his low table then turn back to him. You hold out your hands expectantly. Jel looks at your hands, then slowly tilts his head up to you. He says nothing. He simply takes your hands and stands up. You softly gasp as he sways weakly, but he manages to correct his posture. He huffs in utter disbelief at how exhausted he truly was. He’s disappointed with himself, almost.

“Come on,” You softly say, keeping one hand clasped around his to guide him to bed.

Jel’s face swells with heat as he feels the warmth of your palm against his. Ugh, it is so soothing, he doesn’t even have any incentive to let go. No discomfort. He just wants to keep contact with you. This feeling shakes, however, as you arrive at his bedside. He sits down, instinctively dropping your hand so he could collapse onto his bed. You pout with sympathy for him. You watch him run a hand through his hair before letting it rest over his eyes. 

The silence that overtakes the room makes you realize that the storm outside has run its course. The rain outside is now just a small drizzle. You listen carefully to the raindrops softly hitting the roof. This was your cue to leave; Jel only said you could stay if the storm doesn’t let up. So, you assume that you need to make the quietest exit possible. You turn away and take only one step before something clutches your wrist.

Your heart skips a beat and you whip back around. Jel looks up at you with a concerned yet still exhausted expression.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his voice gentle but still disappointed.

“Home,” You reply with the same mellow tone, akin to the rain outside.

Jel frowns. “But you will get wet.”

“It’s just a little drizzle out there, I’ll be fine,” You chuckle.

Jel’s grasp around your wrist releases, just to slide down to hold your hand. Your face flushes and your lips part in surprise.

“Please stay,” He softly pleads.

You gaze back at Jel with total shock, as you have never heard such a desperate plea from him before. It catches you so off-guard, in fact, that Jel feels the need to continue to get you to respond.

“You are more comforting than any rainstorm, or any bed, I have ever experienced,” Jel states. “And if I must sleep properly, I implore you to just lay with me.”

“Jel . . . ” You whisper, glancing down at your clasped hands temporarily. “ . . . are you sure? What if you’re embarrassed by it tomorrow?”

“Nonsense,” Jel dismisses. “Waking up to you would be a dream in itself.”

Your eyes slightly widen. You wonder if this is perhaps a joke, but then you realize that Jel would never be the type to mess with your feelings or say something he doesn’t mean, even if he’s out of it. He is being completely serious right now.

“Okay,” You accept.

You walk over to the opposite of Jel’s side and climb into bed. Jel has a small, joyful smile on his tired face as he turns to face you. The sight makes your heart flutter. You aren't afraid to get a little close. Jel feels your body heat emanate off you as you cozy up next to him.

“Please know that if you are uncomfortable, you don’t have to be flush against me,” Jel advises.

You smile and softly brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. The careful touch sends a shiver down his spine.

“Don’t worry, I’m not uncomfortable,” You assure. “This feels right.”

Jel is so pleased by those words that he sinks into his pillow, although his star-filled eyes never leave yours. Both of your hearts are beating hard. There was always some sort of romantic tension between you two, but it was never spoken or acted upon until this moment, at least not as directly. Jel always knew that you had some sort of feeling toward him, although he could never prove it. But your almost instinctual acceptance to be so close to him, and the way you smile at him from just a few inches away, solidifies his theories.

You watch as Jel rests his head. He softly gasps as you remove his eyeglasses, then chuckles. You smile and place them on his nightstand. When you turn back, Jel still has his eyes on you. He couldn’t help it. You prop yourself up on an elbow to look back down at him. To his utmost happiness, this position also gives you enough leverage to continue sifting through his hair. He sighs as he feels your finger sweep through his hair and push it back. It feels so lovely, and so relaxing, that his body no longer wants to move. Each stroke just makes him sleepier. His eyes close, his hands unflexing in front of his chest. You can see his chest slowly rise and fall, his breathing a comforting and hypnotic sound. Suddenly, Jel makes a final move and nestles himself against your body. He wraps one arm around your waist to anchor himself, then promptly relaxes once more. You softly chuckle and continue playing with his hair.

Normally, Jel wouldn’t have the confidence to be so forward and close to you, but his mind didn’t have enough energy to be insecure. In your arms, he had never felt so comfortable in his life. Your warmth, mixed with your gentle touch, made it so easy for him to just give in. There was no one else that could possibly do this to him, he’d never allow it. But, you . . . Jel couldn’t describe it. You just make him feel so pleasantly vulnerable.

The rainfall outside resumes a steady downpour as Jel finally goes to sleep. You yawn and realize that looking at Jel sleeping has made you tired as well. You avert your eyes to think, then decide that going to sleep with him isn’t as scandalous as it seems. So, you sink down onto the other half of Jel’s pillow. Your arm slinks under his so you could hold him close. When you’re satisfied with your hold, you close your eyes and calmly breathe out. Your heart feels warm as you imagine waking up to him tomorrow morning

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[ghcstao3]

i was revisiting old fics of mine and i thought, fuck it! more wingfic tidbits

- oddly enough, the military of all things had become a safe space for simon, prior to betrayal, to roba, to ghost. with that (and a necessity, to an extent), simon found he was often able to fall asleep just about anywhere relatively easy—he’d just curl up, wings wrapped around most of his body, and conk out, just like that

— such a thing becomes difficult after everything, and it isn’t until his relationship with soap does he finally regain some semblance of the ability. sometimes they nap together, soap’s wings encasing the both of them. most times, it’s soap recognizing ghost needs sleep, bringing him to some secluded spot, and sitting, reading, sketching, whatever while ghost uses one of his wings as shelter to sleep

- ghost had always used preening as a way to occupy anxious fingers, so his wings had always been in great shape. after losing them, he has no way to expend such energy unless through other emotions. after soap first asks ghost to help with preening, he nearly cries whilst going through the motions because it’s just such a relief in a way he can’t describe

— from then on, he’s been wordlessly invited to preen soap’s wings whenever ghost needs those repetitive motions. soap’s wings have literally never been in a better state than with ghost’s habit

- ghost collects loose/fallen feathers, always had. from himself, once upon a time, from his mother, brother, sister-in-law, nephew. now he collects them from the 141, neatly tucked away in a box hidden under his cot

- ghost never shook the habit of chirps and other birdlike sounds, without his wings. it was an absolute bitch to figure out how to explain it when people thought he was flightless

— soap loves his chirps. thought nothing of them before he knew about ghost’s wings, assumed it was just a side-effect of being around winged people so often. loved them even more when he learned it was just an old habit never rid of

- and not ghost and/or soap related, but laswell has, on several occasions, bought books of bird jokes for ghost because she thinks it’s funny how much it annoys the other members of the task force

ok that’s all :>

[lovecanbesostrange]

Please know that since yesterday I am mentally trapped in these two panels. There is actually a lot I will miss Krakoa for, but I also felt a bit of resentment throughout the era and this family is a big reason why. NOW that we are in the last stretch of burning it all down and the new X-launch is in reach, we'll get this wedding special. And we finally have all four together in a panel. NOW?! I bought X-Men Unlimited #4 in either fall of '94 or spring '95, solely because of the cover. 30 years of waiting. Let me live in this moment for a bit.

Look at what they are doing with the art! Oh sure, Mystique and Nightcrawler are the blue ones. Pair up Destiny and Rogue next to that to make them look similar enough as well. Only for my brain to scream "but the personalities are the other way around!!!!!!!!". Irene and Kurt work on faith and believe in possibilities and reaching out to be better. Raven and Anna Marie typing this out makes me feel weird are the ones who will kill a bitch and say they will darken their soul so others don't have to. Plus there is the element that they both have lived more than one life and their sense of self is distorted .

They've come a long way, okay?!

Yes this is exactly what it looks like. For plot reasons Nightcrawler was too weak to teleport and dangling off a cliff next to Mystique. And of course Rogue could only save one and before she made a decision Mystique said "I make this for you" and let go. I still like to believe she flipped them the bird when she fell. Because she is Mystique. "HaHa! Take this, you think I'm the worst mother ever, but you will have to live with a moment of nobility from me!" (Also Destiny knew this would come, and she fucking knows there is something good inside of Mystique. It just comes out... different. And needs very specific circumstances.)

Apart from X-Men Evolution (and the X-Men Forever alternate history comic with its very special vibes), we have never gotten any bigger acknowledgement of this family. And Irene has been cut out. Either conveniently on account of being dead, or because she's an old lady and clearly just a gal pal, ahem. (It's also very funny to me to go back to their first appearances, where the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants has the biggest Three Stooges energy ever. I needed Mystique, Destiny, Rogue, Pyro, Blob and Avalanche to have a drinking contest on Krakoa. That is what Krakoa was supposed to be about!! You needed to give us 200% domestic nonsense, fun and games. So it would hurt everybody when it was inevitably taken away. EVERYBODY needed to find happiness in that place in unconventional ways.)

Sadly not my original thought (I don't have those), but recently I read some comment where somebody said that with Irene being his bio-mother, Kurt should have inherited a type of precog-sense, a sorta spidey-sense for teleportation. A natural ability that he won't teleport into an obstacle. And I would be so on board with that. (Also funny, because Ms Marvel had that type of sense and I could pull up panels where Nightcrawler tried to trigger that in Rogue.) Would it be weird to add that now? Sure. But also super cute and helpful.

My deepest gratitude goes out to the fanartists who have doodled and sketched and painted cute family moments for them out of time. Now canon can catch up. Imagine their dinner conversations. N: "Logan is my best friend." M: "Oh, that reminds me there is this blue furball running around with his and my powers. I don't even remember if we ever had sex or not, we're so close in age and have these memory gaps." N: "Mutter, nein!" D: "You should ask him out, you two would make a cute couple. Trust me." R: "You're setting up Nightcrawler with Wolverine and keep giving me grief over Gambit?" M: "He speaks too much French! Wolverine might be Canadian, but at least he's not a Franco-Canadian!" N: "So I couldn't date Northstar?"

Do not get me wrong though. Mystique and Destiny are horrible people and they will stab others in the back. They have worked for the government, they have plotted assassinations of government people. They have fought alongside and against the X-Men. I don't want them tamed or be reasonable. I want their mess. I want them as anti-villains. Because they don't do heinous things for nothing. They like to create less horrible murder events than what could be... some writers just liked to go overboard with the scheming and forgot the sympathic undertones, which I want to cling to. And we deserved a time of peace on Krakoa. Truly imagine a Mystique who was happy on Krakoa. And the absolut batshit villainous energy when it's burned down against her will... now THAT would have been something. Instead of baking resentment into the foundation.

[quibbs126]

hi!! you said it'd be okay to request oc/canon fankids, so i thought i'd toss one of mine into the mix! her name's salt lick cookie, and she's a farmhand on a ranch. she mostly helps with the horses (hence 'salt lick'), and is a HUGE Horse Girl™. she has that THICK southern drawl, and is pretty laid-back in general. her pet would be a little living hobby-horse toy, y'know, the kind on a stick that you'd stand over and run around pretending to ride as a kid.

i think it'd be REALLY cute to pair her with potato cookie, since they both work closely with animals, and potatoes and salt tend to work well together lmao!

i do wanna apologize for a couple things regarding the reference image: since i can't draw, i used a mobile dollmaker app, so the colors aren't 100% accurate… salt licks run the gamut from pure white to a deep, pinky red, but nothing's as dark as the red on her overshirt, so that red should be lighter and more pinkish. (her bandana is supposed to be white and pink, too, not. yellow.) and the website i used to make the background transparent decided to also make her pigtails, shirt, and half of one boot transparent… hopefully that won't make a difference if the canvas is white?

ah, sorry, one more thing, if you ever decide to draw this, i'd prefer if you tagged energy-drink-cookie, since that's my cookie run sideblog!! even if you pass on this, i think it's really cool that you're open to ocs and i hope you're having a good day!

Here you are, this is Potato Chip Cookie

You said to tag @energy-drink-cookie so here you go

Oh and by the way if you’re wondering why the oc looks different in my ref than the one given, it’s because I redrew it myself and afterwards I was told I could use that version if I wanted

Anyways on to the show, so I named him Potato Chip simply because they’re potatoes and they’re usually salty. I mean one’s salt and the other potatoes, what else was I gonna do if not some form of salty potatoes?

Potato chips:

Funny enough when making the initial rough sketch, I thought he looked a bit too much like Salt Lick, but around the time I was finishing up, I thought he looked a bit too much like Potato. I’m willing to say now he’s probably more of an even balance

I do admit that I kind of just gave him Salt Lick’s top hair, just with some more rounded ends to resemble Potato more. I was always planning on making his hair blonde with white streaks since he’s still a potato, but I also made the blonde slightly more orange, though I don’t think it’s very noticeable

I also gave him those dark brown flecks in his hair just because the potato chips I was looking at had some pepper in them. And it tied in with the eyebrow color

I gave him pink eyes because it was supposed to represent the salt, but also I realize that if I didn’t give him pink eyes, he’d definitely look too much like Potato

So with his outfit, initially he was going to be a farmer, but I ended up think “what if he was a chef instead?” and went with that for everything below his scarf (since that was what I had drawn first). But also I didn’t change the initial look, mostly because I really liked it, so I think his top part and his bottom part may not entirely coincide with his theme

When trying to finalize the colors, I wasn’t sure about giving Potato Chip his yellow shirt, since I thought it looked off, but my friend told me to make it flannel and make his scarf red, so I did. I think I’ve gotten flannel mostly down, but truthfully I’m not sure

But yeah overall I quite like his design

Now onto his character

So I said before he’s a chef. Well he still lives on the potato farm with his family, but he also acts as their cook, since he’s got aspirations of one day being a famous chef (though he’s currently a bit too young to pursue these dreams, he’s still a teenager). His dishes mainly consist of various things made of potatoes like potato salad, potato chips, potato pancakes, loaded potatoes, you get the picture. Also if they have a mill for potato flour/starch, I imagine he mans it as his main role on the farm

Other than that, he’s a sweet guy. A bit shy and sometimes easily startled, but he doesn’t have an ounce of malice in his dough. He just likes to make food for the people he cares about

And yeah I think that’s about it for Potato Chip, I hope you like him!

[burnwater13]

Ahsoka Tano attacking Din Djarin on Corvus. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 5, The Jedi. Calendar from DateWorks.

“Hey, buddy, how’s today’s story going?”

Grogu turned, looked at his dad, and sighed. 

“Not good, huh?”

Grogu’s ears drooped and he found himself frowning as he sat at their multipurpose table and stared at the screen of his datapad.

“I see. I think. Well, what’s it about? Or what did you want it to be about?”

Uff. The Mandalorian had no empathy. None at all. If Grogu had known what he wanted the story to be about it would already be written. He did not know and it was not finished, or even started.

Instead of complaining at his dad about his lack of sensitivity, he pushed the sketch he’d made across the table top, so the bounty hunter could take a look. Maybe Grogu would get lucky and his dad would say something that would help. Or say something that annoyed him so much he would find the energy to stomp out of the cabin and go sit by the pond and pout. He liked sitting by the pond. The pouting was just a bonus. 

“Ah. This is when we met Ahsoka Tano on Corvus. She really surprised me with that whole attack first and ask questions later tactic. I thought Jedi were supposed to be diplomats, not troublemakers.”

Grogu began to giggle and then to laugh. Finally he had the hiccups and his dad patted him gently on the back while he handed Grogu a sweet crisp. Grogu felt better after eating the crisp, but he was still annoyed with his dad.

“Okay, buddy, I don’t understand why that was funny to you. Was it the diplomat part or the troublemaker part?”

Grogu nodded his head to both words. Jedi were awful diplomats and they were rather notorious troublemakers… from a certain perspective. Not that he had anything specific against Ahsoka Tano. He didn’t. She wasn’t a Jedi. She wasn’t a diplomat. And Grogu couldn’t say that she was any more of a trouble maker than any other person who wanted to see bad people brought to justice. 

He expected that she was the sort of person who made good trouble. Or at least he’d thought she was like that when they first ran into her on Corvus. The local magistrate was a cruel ex-Imp who had refused to stop acting as the magistrate of Corvus despite the agreement between the New Republic and the fallen Empire. Grogu agreed that Ahsoka and his dad should do whatever it took to get rid of those ex-Imps.  They were hurting people because they took joy in that. If a Jedi (ex) and a Mandalorian could agree to anything, it was that cruelty was never the point of any action they ever took. It was against the code, the Creed, the Way, and every other guide they used for the work they undertook. 

But… time passed and they (he and the Mandalorian) ended up on Ossus, except Grogu went there with Luke Skywalker, and the Mandalorian came by himself. Grogu had learned about it much later. Because AHSOKA TANO hadn’t let the Mandalorian visit him! He didn’t think she was being cruel. But Grogu did think that she was trying to protect herself more than she was protecting him, or Luke, or the promise of the Jedi order. Simply put it was bad trouble. 

The Mandalorian had gone off and practically got himself killed. If Grogu hadn’t realized that he couldn’t be a good Master to Luke  because he hadn’t finished training Din Djarin, who knows what would have happened! Fortunately, he had figured that out and returned to Tatooine and helped his dad sort out the trouble that the New Republic wasn’t capable of handling and made Tatooine safer for their friends there.

He sighed again. All’s well that ends well?

“Buddy, Ahsoka did what she thought was right. She didn’t have all the information she needed, but she still felt like she had to act. You should write a story about that. How do you learn to learn… it’s not easy, but it is worthy.”

Hmmm. Grogu wasn’t sure about that. His fans didn’t want serious, thoughtful, considered perspectives on the conditions of sentient beings wherever they were and how they could improve the planets and worlds around them. At least he didn’t think they did based on the requests he got for frog based recipes (fried is best), the dimple on the Mandalorian’s cheek (still there, still cute), and the state of the discussions about replacing the N-1 with another Razor Crest or maybe even a YT-1300 light freighter (still fighting the good fight).

Grogu smiled at his dad and nodded his head. Sure, he was going to write about the serious issues facing the galaxy… just as soon as he wrote a story about how he finally built his first lightsaber. He was sure his fans would enjoy that even more than another story about his dad taking his helmet off. 

Find Grogu’s story about making his lightsaber here:

[silent-stories]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: After years of building your band’s reputation as one of the most influential in the metal scene, you and your bandmates move to Los Angeles. What you don't expect, however, is that your new neighbors are none other than Bad Omens, and that Noah is a huge fan of your band.

Series masterlist

Your first night in LA had passed quietly, with only the distant hum of the city to lull you into sleep. There were still boxes scattered around, and many things to fix and change but even in the midst of the chaos, there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing you were starting fresh.

The night had left you with a strange sense of comfort. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Noah—his sweet brown eyes, soft and warm as they met yours, and the way his smile lit up the dark streets as you looked for Boo.

You couldn't help but replay the memory of his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something funny, or how his long chocolate hair fell over his face when he looked down to hide the blush on his cheeks.

The sunlight streamed through your window when you woke up the next day, gently pulling you from your dreams. You blinked slowly, the soft golden light spilling across the room, casting gentle shadows over the piles of unpacked boxes.

The comforter was tucked around you, and for a moment, you just laid there, eyes half-open, listening to the quiet of the morning.

After finally deciding to get up, you took some time to comb your hair and change into fresh clothes, trying to muster up some energy. But as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, you heard a voice shouting something you couldn’t immediately make out.

It was familiar, though, so you walked toward the window, trying to figure out what was going on. The voices grew louder, and without thinking too much about it, you decided to follow the sound, stepping outside.

When you stepped into the yard, you stopped. Laughter echoed through the air, and you immediately recognized who it was.

“Folio! There you are, finally!” Jake was happily hugging Folio, who looked a little bewildered, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. Next to them were Nicholas and Matt, both laughing and enjoying the scene.

Folio pulled away slightly, looking confused, then asked, “Wait, do we know each other?”

Jake grinned, introducing himself with a dramatic gesture, “I’m Jake Foster! From Dark Waves.”

Folio blinked a few times, then glanced at you, and his eyes widened with realization. "Oh shit, right!" he said, his expression shifting to one of recognition.

You burst into laughter at the moment of realization. Jake didn't even notice that Folio didn't realize who he was until he saw you. Maybe it was for the best.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, “Wait, you guys moved here?”

"Yep," you replied, still smiling.

Matt, looking pleased, added, “Finally, we’ve got cool neighbors! Welcome to Los Angeles, Dark Waves!”

The afternoon had settled into a quiet rhythm as you and William worked together in the kitchen, unpacking boxes and sorting through the last bits of your belongings.

“You know,” William said as you were casually chatting, his voice muffled by the box he was currently sifting through, “I’ve got some new t-shirt design ideas I’ve been thinking about.”

You looked over at him, setting down the dishes you were organizing. “Oh yeah? What’s up?”

He grinned and lifted a hand, as though trying to brush off the weight of his thoughts. “I started sketching a few things on the way here. Had a lot of time to kill, and I thought I’d try some new concepts. I think they look pretty cool.”

You smiled, already knowing that his designs were always killer. “You know everything you design is cool. I don’t even have to hear about it to know it’ll be great.”

William chuckled, clearly liking the confidence as he moved away some long strands of hair from his face. “Well, I don’t know, these might be a bit out there. But I thought they could work.” He grabbed his sketchbook from the table and flipped it open to show you.

The first sketch was a little branch of a plant. But instead of fruit, the plant bore small skulls. The second sketch was of a scorpion, drawn with sharp, angular lines, its stinger posed in a deadly arc.

You leaned in, admiring the drawings. “These are incredible,” you said with genuine awe. “The skulls in the plant? That’s such a cool concept. And the scorpion is perfect. Seriously, these are amazing.”

William beamed at your praise. “Thanks! I think they’d look great on t-shirts, but I’ll need your help to refine them and get them into digital format.”

Without hesitation, you nodded. “Of course, I’m in. I’d love to help you bring them to life.”

He tapped the edge of the sketchbook thoughtfully, as if pondering something else. “I was also thinking about re-releasing some of our older merch. The stuff that sold out super quickly last time? Maybe we could bring it back, along with some new designs.”

You immediately agreed, excitement building. “That’s a brilliant idea. People are still talking about it, and bringing it back with fresh stuff would definitely keep the hype going.”

“Yeah? You think it’ll work?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure of it,” you said confidently. “We’ve got a solid fanbase for this, and with the designs you’ve got, I know it’ll be a hit.”

William grinned, looking satisfied with the direction everything was headed. “Alright, I’m on board."

That afternoon, the soft sunlight pouring in through the window as you lounged on your bed. You flicked through your music library and shuffled a random playlist of songs you loved, the familiar tunes bringing a sense of comfort like they always did. The mellow sound of an old track from the 80s faded into the upbeat rhythm of a Bullet for my Valentine's song, and for a moment, you just let yourself drift with the music.

As the last notes of one song faded, you closed your eyes, letting the next song wash over you. But then, the unmistakable guitar riff of a song you knew well began to play.

You blinked, your smile growing without even thinking.

Mercy was one of your favorite Bad Omens songs and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth at the sound of Noah’s voice filling your room. You loved the way his voice seemed to reach into the corners of your soul.

"If God came down from His kingdom

He came down from His home

And we asked Him if He'd take us back

He would surely tell us no

If God came down from His kingdom

He came down from his throne

And we asked Him if He'd take us back

He would tell us we can't go"

Just as the song reached the end of the chorus, your phone buzzed on the nightstand beside you. You reached over and grabbed it, still tapping your fingers on your stomach to the rhythm. Unlocking the screen, your eyes immediately landed on the Instagram notification. You smiled again, heart skipping a beat.

Noah tagged your band in a story.

The picture showed a portion of your garden, the sun high in the sky and in the background, Noah’s own frontyard, with a glimpse of his house’s exterior—just enough to confirm you were both now neighbors.

"Guess who just moved in next door?" The caption said.

You couldn't help but keep smiling as you stared at the picture. It felt personal, you couldn’t really explain it. Like he cared so much he had to show other people too.

As the song ended, you clicked into Noah's story to react, typing out a, "I have no idea, any clues?" before hitting send.

You still didn't know which god had wanted you to decide to buy that very house but you were grateful that it had happened.

And that place already felt kind of perfect.

The evening was calm. You were sitting in the living room, a cup of tea in hand, when the front door swung open. Alex stepped inside, grinning like he was carrying some big news.

“Guess what?” he asked.

You looked up, eyebrow raised. “What?”

Alex walked further into the room, leaning against the doorframe. “Nicholas asked if you guys want to come to theirs tonight. Movie night. Something chill to welcome the best, coolest, awesome-st neighbors ever.”

"I'm sure he didn't say the last part." William chuckled when he entered the livingroom.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Are you guys in or not?"

You blinked, glancing over at the clock. “A movie night? It’s like... what, nine already?”

“Yeah, I know, late start, but you know how it is.” Alex shrugged. “Anyway, he said we are gonna choose one we all like, so...”

You smiled, setting your tea aside. “Alright. Sounds good. Let me just grab my jacket.”

After a couple of minutes, you, Alex, Jake and William, finally found yourselves on the sidewalk, making your way to the Omens' house. The city air had cooled down, but the streets were still alive with the low hum of distant traffic.

Jolly opened the door for you guys and as you walked in. Inside, there was a large couch covered in black leather, a light green rug on the wooden floor, and lots of plants.

Boo passed between your legs and you chuckled as you remembered the night before.

The sound of voices reached your ears—laughter, idle chatter, and the low hum of a TV in the background. The moment you stepped in, Noah looked up from the couch, a grin spreading across his face.

"The stream watcher!" he called out with a teasing smile, his brown eyes lighting up.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't push it, Sebastian," you shot back, but your tone was playful.

Noah leaned back on the couch, obviously amused, but there was a soft warmth behind his gaze. His presence was so familiar, and even though you’d only known each other for a short while, there was a comfort in the way he looked at you.

That evening you introduced yourself to three more of their friends: Jesse, Davis, Michael, and Orie. You wanted to say that you had never seen a house so full of men but that would have been a lie. You were used to the birthday parties and events your band was invited to and there often weren't many girls there.

At first, it was hard to gain acceptance in the metal scene as a woman, because many men seemed to believe that metal was only made by other men. But over time, that perspective started to shift, and you were grateful to see attitudes change.

You knew there was still a long way to go but you were happy with what you had achieved with your band so far. With those three weird guys who had become your family.

The living room had been set up for the night: cushions on the floor, blankets strewn across the couch, and a dimly lit room made perfect for a movie night. The familiar atmosphere of a hangout with friends was enough to put you at ease, and the comforting smells of popcorn and the soft glow of the TV made it feel like you could just breathe out and relax for once.

You made your way to the couch, and Noah shifted to make space next to him, leaving just enough room for you to sit close. You flopped down beside him, almost naturally, like you did it plenty of times before. Your arm brushed against his, your shoulder gently touching his, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, just feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

It felt... easy.

Alex sat next to Davis, complimenting the way they had decorated their house and mentioning how he'd likely steal a few ideas for his own place. Meanwhile, William stood nearby, chatting with Nick and Jesse. Across the room, Jake was drep in a conversation with Folio about a drumhead he was considering buying.

If you weren't sure Jake was straight, you'd have thought he was going to try to kiss Folio any second, the way he looked at him.

After a couple of moments, Nick announced you were going to watch “The Crow” that night, a classic that everyone loved. Most of the group had seen it at least twenty times, but the film never seemed to lose its charm, even when you could recite the lines along with the characters.

You saw Harper position herself at the foot of the couch as if she too was ready to watch the movie.

“I didn’t even ask if you guys needed help unpacking all your stuff,” he said after a while. “How’s it going? You getting through it okay?”

You smiled, shaking your head lightly. “Oh, no problem at all! We’re almost done anyway. It actually turned out to be less difficult than I thought. Having three guys in the house definitely helps, I’ll say that much.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Noah smiled, probably picturing the chaos of all those boxes and bags being sorted through. You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander for a moment as you tried to get comfortable, adjusting the pillow behind you.

"You know," you said after a while, “I used to watch this movie all the time by myself when I was a kid. Alone in my room,” you said, the words almost slipping out before you realized how personal they were. “I must’ve been about twelve or thirteen, hoping that one day I would find a man who loved as much as Eric had loved his Shelly. I tried to get some of the girls in my class to come watch it with me, but they all thought it was... weird.”

Noah’s head tilted slightly. “Weird?”

You chuckled. “Yeah. Probably because of the vibe. Or maybe because they just thought I was weird."

"You? Why?"

"I never really had many friends, not in middle school or high school. The other girls were into things like dolls, pink stuff, shopping, dreaming of being vets or teachers. I spent all my free time at my dad’s music store, listening to Black Sabbath and learning every lyric to this band from Sheffield that no one had heard of. People said they just made 'noise,’ but I didn’t care. I wanted to be just like Oli Sykes back then.”

Noah’s expression softened as he listened, “So that’s why you were the weird kid?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch, letting your words flow freely now. “Maybe. Probably also because I was always in the back of the class, scribbling lyrics, drawing in my notebooks and making bracelets with safety pins, too shy to talk to people I didn't really know and who seemed so different from me, and too quiet for anyone to actually notice me. I mean, if they did it it wasn't in a good way.

I also liked spending hours alone at the lake in the woods a few minutes from my house. I would go there by bike and stay until the sky got dark. I liked the frogs and the dragonflies there. And the silence. I never really went to the parties, even when I was invited. It just felt like they were inviting me out of obligation, not because they actually wanted me there. And in the end, I just preferred being at the music store with my dad anyway. And Hot Topic. Hot Topic was one of the few places I actually enjoyed shopping.” You added the last part with a chuckle. "Sorry for talking too much. I tend to overshare when I start getting comfortable with someone."

"Oh, don't worry. I've been listening to your voice through headphones for years, I could never tell you to stop talking."

There was a long pause before Noah spoke again, his voice almost reflective. “I get it, by the way,” he said quietly. “I was the weird kid at school, too.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Impossible.”

Noah let out a little laugh, shaking his head. “I’m telling you. I had the classic emo haircut, played guitar in a band no one had ever heard of, posted Pierce the Veil covers on YouTube, and hated all sports. Nick was basically my only friend. Trust me. I was far from being the popular kid.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t seem that bad. Maybe we would’ve gotten along back then.”

“Yeah,” Noah said with a smile that made your chest flutter a little. “I think we would have.”

For a few seconds, you both just sat there, the noise of the room fading into the background, a soft silence settling between you. But Noah wasn’t done yet.

“They were missing out,” he said suddenly.

“What?” you asked, glancing at him, curious.

“The kids you were talking about. They were missing out,” Noah repeated, his gaze locking with yours now. “If you were even half as cool back then as you are now, I bet you were the coolest kid around.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a little warmth blooming in your chest. But before you could say anything, Matt’s voice rang out from the other side of the room.

“Alright, are we all ready? The movie’s about to start!” Matt shouted, and with that, he quickly turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

As the movie started, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, slowly sinking into the cushion, your attention flicking between the flickering images on the screen and the people around you.

If someone had told you a year earlier that in a year you would end up watching a movie with the Bad Omens and all their friends, you would have said they had gone crazy. But now, five years after your band had become one of the most famous in the metal scene and you had moved to Los Angeles, it was really happening.

At first, you paid attention to the movie. But halfway through, your focus started to wane. You couldn’t help but be aware of Noah so close to you. Every now and then, your shoulder brushed against his, and each time, you felt a slight shift in the air between.

You hadn’t intended for it to happen. But now, sitting next to him on this couch, the proximity made your heart beat faster.

Your hand was just a couple of inches away from his. You could feel the warmth of his body beside you, the subtle rhythm of his breathing as he settled deeper into the couch.

Eric Draven's voice became nothing more than background noise. And your thoughts kept circling back to Noah—his presence, his proximity, the way his arm was just close enough to yours to make you hyper-aware of every small shift.

Every now and then, his fingers brushed against yours, and you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or just a simple accident.

But you didn’t mind.

You wanted to pretend you were still watching the movie, focusing on the action and the story, but the truth was, you were more aware of Noah’s every movement, every breath, every subtle change in the way he shifted next to you.

You felt your chest tighten, your heartbeat picking up slightly as you became more and more acutely aware of how close you two were. How close your hands were. And how badly you wanted to just reach out and close the gap.

But you stayed still.

You loved the way the lights from the screen reflected on his face in the darkness, the way they caressed his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips.

The rest of the movie played out in a blur. The familiar lines were spoken, and you couldn’t even tell if the words made sense anymore. All you could think about was the space between your bodies. Just a few inches. A breath away.

And for once, you didn’t mind that the movie was taking a backseat to your thoughts.

The movie had come to an end, and the sound of the credits rolling was quickly drowned out by everyone’s chatter. The guys were stretching, standing, and grabbing their jackets as they began to make their way toward the door, but still chatting: a sign that you would stay there for a while longer.

Noah shifted slightly. “You do that often, you know?”

“What?” you asked, turning your head toward him, a little confused.

“Humming songs,” he clarified, his voice soft but teasing. “You were doing it just now. And even before the movie started.”

You blinked, surprised. “It’s a habit, I guess. I don’t really do it on purpose."

“It’s not a bad thing.” He paused for a moment, then added, “It was ‘This is goodbye,’ by the way.”

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. “How the hell did you figure that out?”

“I love that song,” he said with a grin, clearly proud of himself. “It’s one of my favorites of yours.” He leaned back into the couch, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee, as if to the rhythm of the song in his head.

You watched him, laughing as he started sinsing your song.

“I'm begging you let go for heaven's sake

I promise you there's nothing left to take

Put a hole in my head and a lock on my chest

I'll be better of this way”

He hummed the rest, his fingers still tapping to the beat. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he seemed to put so much effort in it.

"So break my legs and pull me to pieces

You stabbed my heart now I want you to see this

When I walk out with my head held high

This is goodbye."

When he finished singing, he had a hand on his chest as though he was reciting the American anthem.

“Are you done fangirling now?”

Noah laughed. “For now, yeah."

“It’s actually one of my favorite songs, too,” you said after a moment of silence. “A lot of people think it’s about a guy. You know, about a breakup. But it’s not. It’s more about... the people who hurt you. People you thought would be important to you, but…”

“but they ended up betraying your trust and leaving you broken.” Noah completed your sentence.

“Exactly,” you whispered, your voice trailing off.

"It happens even to the best."

"Mh."

"I'm sure a lot of people saw themselves in that song, really."

"I hope so. I write so that people can feel less alone."

Noah paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “You know, it’s funny how a lot of people misinterpret songs like that. They just don’t get the depth.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Nerd.”

Noah shot you a sly grin. “Weirdo.”

You both stared at each other for a second, his brown eyes locked onto yours, a fleeting look of concern crossing his face, as if he feared he had unintentionally hurt your feelings, then you both burst out laughing.

At that time, you had no idea those two nicknames would stick.

After a while, when you got up, Noah stood up too and joined the others by the door, a casual grin on his face as he talked to Alex. It wasn’t until the group started to file out that he slowly made his way over to you again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your heart skip a beat. “This was fun.” There was a pause, almost like he was weighing his next words. “We should do that again sometime.”

It almost seemed like he was trying to imply that he wanted to do something just with you and not the whole band, but you weren't sure. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, the darkened room, the closeness. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

You gave him a small smile, playing it cool, though your pulse had quickened. “Yeah, sure,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’d like that.”

Noah nodded and said goodnight when you and the others started to leave.

Jake, as always, was still holding a near-empty bag of popcorn—probably the third or fourth one he’d finished throughout the evening.

"Two whole packs, really?" Alex teased, laughing as Jake stuffed the last few kernels into his mouth.

"What? It’s movie night," Jake defended, grinning. "Gotta do it right."

William shook his head as he watched Jake finally make his way toward the door.

"Bye guys!"

"See you!"

"Someone's going to spend all of tomorrow regretting this on the toilet," you said, giving Jake's tattoo-covered arm a playful pat with a smirk.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned.

The laughter faded as you reached the door of your house.

Your first week in Los Angeles passed by quietly. The days flowed in a slow, steady rhythm as you and your bandmates finished settling into the house. The kitchen had come to life, the soft lighting in the living room gave a sense of calm, and your room—your room—finally felt like yours. It was filled with your personality now: movie posters on the walls and CD covers scattered across the shelves.

By the end of the week, you had started to jot down some ideas for new songs. It wasn’t much, just vague lines and half-formed thoughts. Your bandmates were right when they’d said you never stopped. It was nothing concrete yet, just fleeting thoughts that you hoped would grow into something more. The ideas were there, somewhere, but it hadn't fully found its shape.

And anyway, you could take all the time you needed. You had just returned from a long tour and definitely had no intention of leaving LA for a few months.

You had gone out a couple of times that week, exploring the city a bit. One day you bought flowers to plant in the garden, wanting to add a touch of life to the outside of the house. Another day, you picked up some cat food. No, you didn’t have a cat, but you had noticed several stray cats roaming around the area, and you thought that leaving a bowl of food outside might help them.

One afternoon, Noah saw you placing the food outside.

“Hey, you have a cat?” He asked from his garden, on the other side of the fence.

His long hair seemed lighter under the sunlight and his brown eyes seemed to reflect every ray of sunshine in many shades of gold.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

You smiled and shook your head. “No, it’s for the strays.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, I do that sometimes too. There’s this orange one that comes around. He’s pretty skittish though, doesn’t let anyone get too close. I think he’s new.”

You said you’d keep an eye out for him. The conversation reminded you of something from your childhood. "When I was little," you said, "there was always an orange cat at my dad's music store. Everyone thought it was his, but it was actually a stray that decided that was its home."

Noah chuckled. "Yeah, cats have a way of choosing where they belong."

That had been the last interaction you had with Noah that week.

In the last few days, you'd started noticing some buzz on social media. Fans were beginning to wonder why Dark Waves had bought a house so close to the Bad Omens' place.

The questions were many, ranging from whether you all got along to who the louder neighbor was. Some fans were even speculating about a possible collaboration between the two bands.

You smiled reading the comments, but the idea lingered in your mind. It wasn’t bad.

It was a calm day when you were in the livingroom, sitting at the table with your laptop. William had sent you the designs for the new shirts, and you were working on adjusting and perfecting them, focused on the task at hand. The soft afternoon light filtered through the windows, creating a calm, almost inspiring atmosphere.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Jake walked in, making his way toward you with his usual amused grin. He leaned on the table beside you, looking at your screen and lighting a cigarette even if you had already told him hundreds of times not to smoke in the house because he always left ashes everywhere.

"I was thinking," he said, as you glanced up at him, curious.

"Oh, since when do you think?" you replied, laughing.

He shot you an annoyed but amused look.

"C'mon, I was joking. What were you thinking about?"

"My birthday," he said casually, blowing a cloud of smoke upwards.

"Which is in two weeks," you added.

"I think ahead," he grinned. "Do you think we can invite the Omens over here? Maybe just hang out, have some drinks, eat pizza. Nothing special."

"Could be fun, yeah."

Later that afternoon, when Jake went out to run some errands in the city, you decided to ask William and Alex if they had any ideas for what to get him for his birthday.

"He mentioned wanting a new leather jacket, you know? I was thinking something like that. Maybe some sunglasses too," Alex said when you walked into his room. His blonde hair was spread out on the pillow as he read a book.

"I was thinking rings, chains. Stuff like that. Maybe some new headphones," William suggested instead.

It seemed like everyone had clear ideas except you. Then you remembered that Jake had said he wanted to buy a new drumhead and drumsticks a few days ago and had even mentioned it to Folio during movie night. So, you grabbed your phone and decided to text Noah.

You: Hey neighbor!

You: Nick gave me your number.

You: I wanted to ask if you know any good music stores around here. Jake’s birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get him something from there.

A few minutes later, his reply came through.

Noah: I know a place! If you want, I can take you there.

You hesitated for a second, not wanting to impose.

You: You don’t have to if you’ve got other stuff to do.

He replied almost immediately.

Noah: Nah, I’m literally just watching Naruto in my room. Nothing else going on.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You: Nerd.

Noah: Get ready, weirdo.

You: Alright. I’ll be out in ten.

You put your phone down and quickly got ready

You grabbed your jacket and boots.

Ten minutes later, you were out the door and heading toward his house.

Noah stood in front of his mirror, glancing at his reflection for a moment before pulling off the old, faded pants he had been wearing all day, which were now too worn to even be considered pajama pants. He tossed them into the laundry basket and quickly swapped them out for a fresh pair of black jeans. He quickly brushed his hair and adjusted his shirt, but his mind wandered back to the movie night next to you from the week before.

He loved the way you both had talked, so freely and easily. The way you’d opened up, shared little moments, and laughed over silly things. He hadn’t expected it to feel so comfortable, especially with someone he barely knew. But with you, it felt so easy.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, took one last glance in the mirror, and walked out of his room.

As he stepped outside, he saw you already waiting there, scrolling down your phone, looking effortlessly casual yet cool as always in your outfit.

Noah stepped out of the house, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “So, are you always this punctual, or were you just dying to go out with me?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against your car, a smile tugging at your own lips. “Honestly? I was more excited to hit the music store. Between the last tour and my work in general, I barely get a chance to visit one anymore. I miss the atmosphere. But your company isn’t too bad either.”

He chuckled and motioned for you to follow him. “Alright then, after you.”

You walked with him toward the side gate, passing through his garden as he unlocked his car. He slid into the driver’s seat, and you followed him into the passenger side, settling into the seat comfortably.

As he turned the ignition, the familiar hum of the engine filled the air, and then the radio came to life, playing a song you immediately recognized. The opening notes of “Alkaline ” began, and you grinned, your eyes lighting up.

Every once in a while something changes

And she's changing me

It's too late for me now, I am altered

There is something beneath

“Oh, I love Sleep Token,” you said, reaching for the volume knob. You cranked it up as Noah began to sing along, his voice joining Vessel’s vocals.

You watched him as he kept his gaze on the road, the melody leaving his lips as if that song belonged to him. The way the slightly lowered car window made a few strands of his hair move with the wind filtering inside made you want to reach out and gently move it out of his face.

She's not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned

I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire

You sang with him, a grin on his face when you caught him glancing at you a couple of times.

“Yeah, they’re really good,” Noah said, nodding. “I know them, they’re cool.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Wait, you know them know them? Or, like, you just know them?”

Noah’s laugh was low, a bit smug. “I can say I just know them.”

“Noah!” You groaned, playfully slapping the dashboard. “You can’t just say that and leave it there. C’mon, spill!”

He smirked and shot you a look. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything to anyone.”

You raised an eyebrow, pressing your lips together to suppress a grin. “Oh, so now you’re going to leave me hanging like that? That’s low.”

“Hey,” Noah said with a shrug, “I’m just respecting their privacy. Can’t be spilling band secrets.”

"I'm in a band too!" You shook your head, laughing. “Whatever, I’m still gonna pester you until you cave. Just wait.”

Noah could feel your laughter reverberating through the car as he steered it toward the main road, the music still playing loudly in the background. The perfect mix of sounds he never thought he'd love so much.

For the rest of the ride, you both kept up the playful banter and chatting.

By the time you arrived at the music store, you were telling Noah about the time Alex and Jake exchanged instruments during a show and no one was really able to figure out how the song still ended up being good.

When Noah parked the car, he threw a glance over at you. “Here we are,” he said, “let’s see if you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, you both made your way inside.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

WTMS Tags: @rumoured-whispers @klutzy-kay24 @concretejunglefm @thecoyotescry @kenjipepsi1 @amelia-acero @xxkittenkissesxx @moostress19 @respectfulrebel @super-btstrash-posts

[writemarcus]

REVIEW: A One-Act Jamboree At The Black Theatre Troupe Of Upstate New York

By Jess Hoffman

To close out their season, Black Theatre Troupe of Upstate New York is producing a collection of one-acts, playfully titled One Act Jamboree. The one common thread among these plays is that they showcase, in one way or another, the Black experience. Many of these plays are by emerging local playwrights, and BTTUNY has taken on a commendable challenge producing such an eclectic collection of works.

As with most one-act festivals, the show is a mixed bag. There is no shortage of talent among the cast, crew, and writers; but some of the pieces come together much more successfully than others. As a White person I may not be the most qualified to speak to “the Black experience,” but as a theater and literature expert I am all too familiar with the novice playwright’s desire to take on big ideas when they would have more success diving deeply into something smaller and more familiar that hints at other, larger things at play. Ten or Twenty minutes is not enough time to thoroughly interrogate race relations in modern America; it’s barely enough to thoroughly interrogate a single moment or person. It is therefore unsurprising that the most successful pieces in this show are those that endeavor to encapsulate a brief slice of life (such as one fateful night in a segregated hospital or an awkward encounter between a Black deliveryman and a concerned White man outside a luxury apartment building) or those that take a cheeky sketch-comedy approach to one aspect of life as a Black person (such as the absolutely stellar “Natural Hair Helpline”).

Before the lights even go down, this show starts out strong with some excellent pre-show music courtesy of sound designer Chad Reid. The funky, upbeat pre-show soundtrack seems to promise the audience that they are in for a good time. But when the show opens, it is with the off-putting “No God in the Streets” which is a slam-poetry-adjacent, interpretive-dance-like piece that tries to express too many broad ideas in too short a time–and does so in a way that neither introduces a thought that any member of the audience hasn’t already had nor manages to evoke any emotion that any member of the audience hasn’t already felt. This off-putting beginning is immediately followed by a more cohesive piece about an interracial couple going to their school’s first integrated prom. While this seems like an excellent moment that could shed light on larger issues, the Black teen character Keshawn spends most of that play waxing philosophical and bemoaning his station in life in a way that is unnatural, jejune, and annoying; ultimately this makes him hard to listen to, even when his ideas and feelings make perfect sense. 

From there, we jump into what is more of an extended monologue than a play. But as the exceptionally talented Jocelyn Khoury tells the story of her brother’s premature birth in a segregated hospital, she takes the audience on a journey that evokes heartbreak and sympathy, and successfully touches on how the ripple-effects of segregation are still felt today (without having to lecture the audience about it, as the two previous plays were all too eager to do).

1 / 8

Scene from the One-Act Jamboree produced by the Black Theatre Troupe of Upstate New York in the Lauren and Harold Iselin Studio at Capital Repertory Theatre.

The fourth and fifth plays in the line-up finally bring in the energy that the lively pre-show music seemed to promise. “Nice Day” tells a humorous story about a delivery man struggling to get inside an apartment building to deliver groceries. Thanks to cleverly subverted expectations, a great ending, and very funny prop work with a carrot, “Nice Day” is a stand-out piece in this collection. “Wookies in the Wilderness” follows with what is probably the most compelling story of any of the one-acts, but it ultimately falls into the trap of trying to do too much in too little time. In the course of a two-man, one-act play, “Wookies in the Wilderness” tries to fit in backstory for both of its characters; an examination of emotional toll that a hate crime can have on surviving family and friends; a cultural critique of the way People of Color are represented in Science Fiction; and the overarching plot of one friend discovering another friend’s plan to carry out a revenge murder, grapple with the discovery, and decide whether or not to take part. I would love to see playwright Marcus Scott adapt “Wookies in the Wilderness” into a full length play so that all of his excellent ideas and well-written dialogue may have the time and attention they deserve; but as a one-act it is rushed and shallow.

After intermission, One Act Jamboree continues with a play about two former convicts at a dive bar discussing their place in the world and the unjust circumstances that led to their current lot in life. This play starts off strong with excellent stage presence from all its actors and some entertaining sass from Dawn Harris as Stella. But as Harris struggles with her lines and the other two actors begin monologuing to the audience rather than engaging with one another (despite their excellent chemistry when they do engage with one another) the intensity is lost and the play begins to drag.

One Act Jamboree ends on a high note with Kyora Wallace’s “Natural Hair Helpline,” a fun and energetic play about an employee at a call-in helpline for natural hair and a woman with particularly difficult hair in the midst of a hair emergency. Thanks in part to its script, but also to a talented cast and expert direction by Jean-Remy Monnay, “Natural Hair Helpline” is the strongest piece in this collection. If anyone is on the fence about whether or not to see One Act Jamboree I must recommend they come see the show if only to experience this truly excellent one-act play.

This collection of short playsis far from perfect, but its stand-out moments are well worth the ups and downs in quality that any collection of one-acts is bound to suffer. I was impressed with many of the playwrights showcased, many of the actors involved, and especially with Sheilah London-Miller, who handled the costumes, hair, makeup, sets, and props for the entire production. Anyone interested in Black theater, in local rising talent, or in the art of the one act play is encouraged to see One Act Jamboree and experience all of its high points and its problems for themselves.

Black Theatre Troupe of Upstate New York presents One Act Jamboree, featuring plays by Yetunde Babalola, Cris Eli Blak, Kathryn Grant, Matthew Sheridan, Marcus Scott, and Kyora Wallace; directed by Jean-Remy Monnay, Hettie Barnhill, Tony Pallone, Aaron Moore, and Hasson Harris Wilcher; runs from June 1-11, 2023, at the Rep, 251 North Pearl Street

Albany, NY 12207. Produced by Jean-Remy Monnay. Cast: Shannell West as Fula, Theo Rabii as Aham and Jill, Gabriel Fabian as Keshawn and Smokey, Aaliyah Al-Fuhaid as Martha, Jocelyn Khoury as Rita and Toya, Gregory Theodore Marsh as Black Man and Latrell, Chad Reid as White Man, Susan Katz as Old Woman, Luis Lowery as Bishop, Alvin Kershaw as Clive, Dawn Harris as Stella, Wisdom Johnson as Manager, and Earth O. Phoenix as Gia. Production Stage Manager: Jacqui Anscombe-Waring. Assistant Stage Managers: Q’ubilah Sales and Alexandra Walters. Lighting design by Maya Pomazal-Flanders. Sound design by Chad Reid. Lightboard operator: Willie David Short V. Costumes, hair and makeup, set decorations, and props by Sheilah London-Miller.

Performance dates are Thursday-Sunday, June 6-16. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday curtains are at 7:30pm and Sundays are at 4:00 pm. Tickets are $22.50; senior, military, and veteran tickets are $17.50; student tickets are $12. Runs approximately 2 hours and 15 minutes with a 10-minute intermission. Contains discussions of racism, incarceration, and hate crimes, and a gunshot. Recommended for ages 13+. Tickets are available online at https://attherep.org/, by phone at 518-346-6204, or at the door for any performance. For more information, visit https://www.blacktheatretroupeupstateny.org/, email BTTUNY518@gmail.com, or call 518-833-2621.

[ravenstodaisies]

Dear Raven,

I'd say my week has had a similar vibe. Kind of stressful yet mundane at the same time. My biggest news of the week is that I am officially a resident of the new area I moved to. I was finally able to get my learner's license transferred. When I found out last week that I would have to do another knowledge test I was sent into a bit of an anxious spiral. I mean it has been about 9 years since I last did one. As per usual it was not as bad as I thought it would be. I ended up getting all the questions right and it only took me about 15 minutes. Leave it to me to catastrophize and then end up getting a perfect score.

Like you, I also have no update on my own job search. Should I be putting more effort into it? Very much so yes. Do I feel like I have the mental energy to do so? Not at all. Unfortunately, I will have to push through the lack of motivation as my financial situation demands it.

To be honest I have reached the point where I feel as though the universe is conspiring for me to fail. Like it has decided I am not worth giving a chance. It has gotten to the point where when things don't work out for me it doesn't phase me at all because I was expecting it not to anyway. I know that is not true and that attitude does nothing to benefit me. I am trying to adjust my mindset but frankly, I am just too exhausted.

I have been trying to at least occupy some of my time with hobbies. I have been sketching, writing, and modeling with clay. While I have enjoyed doing these things none of them have really kept my attention for long.

Something new which I have found I enjoy doing is befriending the crows. Every couple of mornings they stop by outside on the front lawn and I toss them a couple handfuls of walnuts then watch them eat from afar. I tried to give them some apple but they were not thrilled about it. I think I will try a bunch of different foods until I find a few things they enjoy. For now, I at least know that walnuts are a favourite. They have already started to become less wary of me.

It really is hard to believe that it has been over a month since we last saw each other. It's funny you should mention seeing a Captain America figurine and thinking of me because I saw a Loki bag the other day and thought of you. I know we've gone longer than a month without seeing each other before but I still miss you. It's hard knowing it may be many more months until we see each other again. It is sad but I know it's just a matter of waiting and we will see each other again.

I hope the week ahead will be good for both of us!

Daisy

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable | the GBEP

If Samuel could will a hole into existence every time he so desperately needs one to just swallow him whole and drag him to the centre of the Earth, a coffin designed perfectly for the kind of messes he's been creating all around this already doomed planet, he'd have turned said doomed planet into the oddest piece of Swiss Cheese ever come into existence.

Which is either a very funny thought or he's bordering on succumbing to the hysterics curling his lips into that odd smile he can't shake off his lips, no matter how inappropriate it feels to wear.

His hands are pressed into his face, eyes freed still and staring at nothing at all, his fingers buried into the beginnings of his hair, messing what is already pretty messy on its own.

This is a nightmare. He hardly has the mental capacity necessary to recognize the possible and very likely implications and ramifications of the creatures he set out into the world, the slow march of decay swaggering about along the bottom of the ocean; being sat directly next to the direct consequences of his actions isn't any easier to stomach as a result, in fact, he's pretty certain that his desiring this to be a dream is teetering dangerously close to him starting to convince himself it is a dream.

Which, of course, would be violently useful.

A psychotic break in the middle of a bar next to a guy who's life he's ruining.

He groans, hands moving to slide over his face, rub into his eyes until he sees stars and begs them to come down upon him like vengeful angels and strike him off the face of the planet. Maybe that would do it. Maybe his death would kill everything he's created along with him, kind of like... killing the sire of a vampire...

"The Sazerac, please," Samuel manages to interject pathetically, which he assumes is not the tone of voice bartenders prefer out of their clients in terms of who they decide to serve and who they'd rather see out of their establishment in the next few 'immediately please'. Samuel has never been refused service before, never thrown enough back to give any barkeep reason to, never crumbled in public in a way obvious enough that it leaves any impression.

But, then again, he's also never half-assed a plot outline and have it lead to meeting the guy said plot outline had forced into itself, perhaps in a weird attempt on the universe's part to fix what he can't, to finally be the author he should be.

Oh, great, an existential crisis on top of the 'supernatural' crisis.

Samuel looks up when the barkeep returns with a glass and doesn't even have the energy to pretend he's surprised when it turns out to be water. He sighs, curses his existence with the exhausted resignation of someone who's given up on trusting in self-curses, and grabs the glass.

He manages a wry smile, charming and handsome, that the stranger is, which is perhaps part of the reason he'd fit so fucking well into the kind of story Samuel had attempted to emulate. Clichés upon clichés, all he'd managed to scratch together, who doesn't love a good explorer story and a Nathan Drake to charm anyone who'd swoon at the easy smile and easy wit?

If anything, Samuel is slowly becoming self-deprecatingly surprised he hadn't realized the moment the stranger had turned his head his way, that this is who he'd been looking for.

He'd tried to find something new to add, something fresh to add to the genre, something to stand out with, and that's precisely while it's now half-deceased and half-abandoned somewhere in a pile of notes with stories just like it.

He hadn't come up with anything that would have made it worth reading above others just like it.

"No, I... I don't think you'll die," Samuel finds himself uttering back, an open-mouthed drag of his mouth to one side to put emphasis on the word 'die', all while he unconsciously peeks over the stranger's arm to watch his sketch unfold. Oh. He can draw, too, he muses, subconsciously adjusting the glasses he sees reflected on the paper.

Charming, handsome, creative, extroverted, makes easy conversations and commands a scenario without ever making Samuel feel like he's backed into a corner by a personality much louder than his own. A guy, friendly, but not overly so.

Samuel has no idea if the plot chose him because who wouldn't fancy a heartthrob protagonist like that - which is honestly just embarrassing to admit - or because if Samuel could pay money to have any of those qualities...

The usual. Is he hot or do I just really, really wish I were him?

Samuel takes a big sip of his water.

He's loosing his goddamn mind.

He's hoping he won't die. He had briefly considered... perhaps a good way to stand out would be to... just...

He slams his hand onto the stranger's arm, eyes blown wide in a frantic panic to fix something he can't fix and prevent something not even happening yet. "Can I have your number?"

He gives himself a few seconds of sirens blaring in his ears before he connects the dots of how he sounds and recoils, only to lurch forward again, an odd dissonance of pulling away, but not appearing... what? Exactly? Damn the bartender for refusing him that drink.

"Not- not like that, wait- uhm, I'm Samuel, hi, nice to meet you, do you think we could...? As in, I would like to help. I think I might be able to- I think you might need my help- this will sound ridiculous, do--?"

He closes his eyes, counts to ten, hates himself a little more, opens them again with an exhale.

"I think I'm partly or mostly to blame for your situation but the reason why I believe that will make me sound insane. But I... need you to believe me and I think... listen, can we talk somewhere else? Maybe...? Or... some other time? Or...?"

[vishnu2004]

Media Reflection

Freewriting Section

For my media reflection, I’ll be discussing my visit to the Ghibli Museum on Friday, June 9th in relation to the extended clips of the ghibli film “My Neighbor Totoro” which were shown at the museum. Before buying ghibli tickets, I had never even heard of the term ghibli, let alone watch one of their film’s. Ghibli is a Japanese Animation Studio that produces cute, short films and movies typically intended for children. They are popular all over the world, and their museum is intended to provide some insight into the creative background of ghibli animators and creators. The museum didn’t allow any inside photos, unfortunately, so I’ll describe the museum as best I can.

The museum was colorful, quiet, and quaint. It featured a number of personal relevant artifacts from the production of a ghibli film, including real drafts of proposed movie scenes and photos taken to inspire the artists behind each film. It was a beautiful amolgomation of art and inspiration, and it showed me how much time and energy goes into producing something that most people consume while sitting on their living room couch. Questions arose, most prominently me wondering where the inspiration and dedication towards the ghibli art form comes from. A desire to spread the Japanese style of animation? A passion for making children giggle and laugh as they watch your films? A desire to pioneer new movie styles? Perhaps it’s a combination, or none at all.

The short ghibli film was the highlight. It was entertaining, captivating, funny, and intriguing all at the same time. Although it was just 20 minutes long, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of time and energy the artists must have put into producing that one phenomenal episode. After exploring the museum, we had a cute meal at the local ghibli cafe and met someone else from UF! She was a senior who was doing an exchange program here for Japan’s spring semester, which intersects with our summer semester. How cool!

Reflection Section

The most memorable part of my trip to the Ghibli Museum was the short film they played for us at the end of our visit to the museum. This film featured extras from the famous ghibli film “My Neighbor Totoro.” It featured a young girl being chased by a fast moving tornado and finding comfort in a large blue animal figure (Totoro). Going into the show, my expectations were low. I thought that it would be extremely childish, and therefore uninteresting to me. To my surprise, I was completely captivated for the entirety of the extras. The animations were incredibly entertaining, and the corresponding sounds were accurate and well-intentioned. The whole 20-minute short film felt extremely well put together and entertaining for people of all ages, not just children.

I believe that this difference between my preconceived notion and expectations for the ghibli experience and the real lived experience of watching the show represents the “soft power” controversy that has plagued Japan’s academics and creative producers for decades. I had a very flimsy, childlike expectation for Japanese animation, only to be shown a film that was, yes, childlike in its animation but complex in its lessons and plot line. I loved the ghibli museum so much in large part because it fundamentally challenged my expectations of Japanese media and more broadly, shows intended for a younger audience as a whole.

Inside the museum, these expectations were challenged even further. From a viewer’s standpoint, the animations and plot line of ghibli films appear to be relatively easy to produce and distribute because they don’t require real actors and their primary audience members are children. However, the museum showed countless examples of rough drafts, rewrites, critiques, and planned sketches in the lead up to the actual production, review, and final publication of a ghibli film. In short, they take a lot more time and energy than your average viewer may anticipate. Perhaps a lot of these perceptions came from the fact that I visited the museum as someone who had pretty much no background knowledge or involvement with ghibli films. But then again, that figure (me) represents the majority of the non-Japanese world. If this museum can challenge the oftentimes misguided and naive perceptions of soft power held by many non-Japanese foreigners of Japanese art, culture, and production, then perhaps these perceived impediments to Japanese culture and history can be overcome through proper education and exhibition of true Japanese art form.

[spaceorphan18]

In The City That We Love 1/25

Summary: Set in year leading up to the time jump in Dreams Come True. Kurt and Blaine have been married for five years, still living in New York City, still trying to navigate life. As their friends become settled around them, Kurt and Blaine figure out who they are, and who they are as a couple, as they settle into being a full adult. A story of marriage as it grows up and settles down for good.

A/N: Hey guys - this was started back in 2019, and based on the Final Season sketch I wrote detailing what the "final season" of Glee would be like - taking the characters up to the points we see them at the end of Dreams Come True. Each chapter is meant to be stand alone/episodic - like an episode of a tv season - but there is an overarching story to the narrative as a whole.

Thanks @snarkyhag for beta'ing - though I'm sure it's been so long she doesn't even remember, lol <3

No - I did not forget about my other WIPs, but since I wrote nothing over my vacation, I thought I'd send this finally out into the world - the last of my big WIP ideas.

******

Episode 1: The Camping Trip

It’s Thursday night and they’re making out on the couch.  Kurt’s on his back, head propped on a pillow.  Blaine hovers slightly over him as they trade slow and deep kisses.  There’s no rush, no frantic rubbing of bodies, no hustle to shimmy clothes off.  In fact, they’re barely touching except where their mouths are connected.  They have the time, finally, to enjoy each other.  To really let it play out.   

He thinks he remembers the last time they had sex - probably a few weeks ago? Maybe a month? When they started their run on Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf Kurt made it a point to schedule in time for a quickie or two during the week.  Their work schedule didn’t really allow for anything more.  Besides, fast and efficient fucking is the best stress relief.  By the end of the run, however, they had been both so exhausted that neither really wanted to have sex.  They barely had the energy to have a full conversation, let alone do anything that required more than falling into their bed every night.  

But even so, sex had maintained a staple of their marriage.  Making out, however?  Kurt can’t remember the last time he and Blaine just made out.  

It’s funny, their friend circle would claim the making out is a common occurrence; everyone always bringing up the one time they were too busy making out in a car to attend a wedding.  Well, that had been a good five, no six, years ago now -- way past the days when stealing kisses had been the most thrilling thing they could do.   Still, their unhurried make out reminds Kurt of being back in high school when it had been more about the journey and less about the destination.   He wants to just sink into the couch and enjoy Blaine, enjoy all of the Blaine.  Dammit, it’s been long enough. He's going to. 

He can tell Blaine’s getting a little tired of holding himself up.  They break for a moment, Kurt spreading his legs so Blaine can settle between them, gently putting his weight on top of Kurt.  The lazy kisses resume, now with a slow rocking of the hips.  He can feel Blaine growing hard in his jeans, Kurt’s own arousal slowly building.  He’s not chasing it, however.  He lets it linger, enjoys the warmth and familiarity of Blaine on top of him.  

Kurt is intent on enjoying himself tonight because, god knows, they’re going to have to start job hunting tomorrow.  Usually they’re better than this, having another job lined up when a run ends.  But the play had taken everything out of them, even testing their marriage.  And now they have to face the reality of unemployment.  Kurt should really check his email before they actually get to bed to see if…  

As if sensing his mind wandering, Blaine begins sucking kisses along his jaw and neck, pulling Kurt back into the present.  Kurt lets out a little groan and rolls his head back giving Blaine better access.  And yes, yes… he really needs to concentrate more on his Blaine, his love, his husband, who knows all the places that make him melt.  Kurt takes a moment and breathes him in.  

Blaine smells differently, and Kurt can’t figure out why... Did he get a new body wash? Pick up a different scented laundry detergent? Have they really been so out of sync lately that maybe he can’t remember what Blaine smells like? Blaine starts kissing back up to Kurt’s lips. The kisses are more heated now as Blaine dips his tongue into Kurt’s mouth.  The sense of smell is no longer on Kurt’s mind.  

“What do you want tonight?” Blaine asks.  One of Blaine’s hands travels between them, finds Kurt’s aching dick, and cups it.  A grin slides along Blaine’s face as he begins to stroke through the denim. 

Kurt’s eyes flutter shut, barely able to reply. It feels so good.  “Fuck me.”

“Maybe,” Blaine starts, as he goes to unzip Kurt’s pants.  “You should fuck my mouth first.”  

Yes, that.  Let’s do that.  But Kurt’s reply comes out an ungraceful squeak.  

Blaine’s hand is around him, steady and slow, teasingly slow.  Kurt’s brain short circuits just a little, and maybe tonight will be a little bit like high school - where he comes in his pants before they ever really get started.  

Doesn’t matter. Kurt feels horny enough now that he probably has a few rounds in him.  He pulls Blaine in for a searing kiss as he rocks his hips in time with Blaine’s hand and then…

There is a sudden and obtrusive knock at the door.  They both freeze, as a burst of anger tears through Kurt.  

“Maybe it’s a solicitor,” Blaine offers weakly as he sits up.  

“At ten at night? Doubtful,” Kurt’s eyebrow is raised.  The rapping on the door continues.  He knows that knock.  He resents that knock and stares at the door, hard, hoping that the person on the other side can receive his telegraphic message to leave.  Now.  

Of course, Kurt knows better.  

“Kurt! Blaine! I know you’re in there,” the shrill voice comes through the door.  Blaine starts to speak, but then Kurt pushes into his hand, grabbing his attention back.  His night will not be ruined.   “I saw the light on when I came in. Let me in!”

“Rachel, my dick is out, go away,” Kurt snaps.  He doesn’t care that the apartment walls are thin and his neighbors can hear the argument.  It wouldn’t be the first time.  

“Don’t act like I’ve never seen that before,” she cries back.  “This is an emergency.  I’ll use my key if I have to.” 

Blaine shifts to move off the couch.  Kurt shoots him a glare - if they let her in, the night is over.  Blaine looks helplessly at him as the knocking intensifies.  Fine.  Fine, fine, fine.  He begrudgingly puts himself back in his pants as Blaine goes for the door.  Fine.  

Rachel pounds again, as Blaine opens the door, cutting her off mid-knock.  She nearly tumbles through the doorway, almost surprised that they actually let her in.  

“Did someone die?” Kurt asks, a bit of acid on his tongue.  Blaine shoots him a look, asking to at least try to be more sympathetic.  Rachel is, after all, distraught as she flounces into the recliner next to the couch.  

“No,” she bites back.   “Just my career.  My career is dead.”  

Kurt lets out an audible groan.  Of all the things to be upset about…  

Blaine sits on the arm of the chair, rubbing her shoulders sympathetically.  “I’m sure it’s not actually dead…” 

“I haven’t heard back from this audition,” she cries.  “Which is, you know, fine.  It’s not like anyone else is calling me back either.  I acted my heart out for this one, I researched everything on Jane Austen, and I know her as if I was her.  I felt her with every fiber of my being.”  

Kurt puts his head on his hand and glances over at the clock, then back to Blaine as if to silently say - she’s going to do this all night, you know.  

Blaine shrugs helplessly.  “It’s one audition,” he says, stroking her hair.  “There will be others.”  

“Oh yes, there are hundreds of auditions out there,” Rachel jumps to her feet and begins to pace the room. “I have been to all of them.  Literally, I have been to one-hundred and twelve auditions in the past six months and none of them - NONE of them have cast me.  I am unhirable.  My career is over.  It’s dead.  And now I’ll just become a housewife - wasting away as my husband takes all the glory.  And that statue, that mistress of his that just stares at me from the mantle.  It knows what a failure I am.  It knows…” 

“Okay, Rachel,” Blaine says, even he can admit when Rachel’s being too much.  “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”

Kurt wants to throw her out. His night had been going splendidly until it had a head-on collision with Rachel Berry’s emotions. He could.  Easily.  Just send her home, back to her nice, little brownstone in Manhattan, with her cushy back-up plan of her husband and her dads, and her off-Broadway potential, and let her wallow in her own self-pity.   She’ll call Mercedes, and can be Mercedes’s problem for a while.  

But he doesn’t.  

Because he, of all people, knows that rejection isn’t easy.  Especially for someone like Rachel who feels the world owes her something.  It’s not like he has people lining up at the door, waiting to sign him for a role.  It’s not like he’d have had that role in Virginia Woolf if they hadn’t wanted Blaine to do it in the first place.  It’s not like being cast in a show has ever been easy for him.  

God dammit, why does a Rachel Berry pity party have to spread so easily? 

Rachel falls back into Blaine’s arms.  He holds her tightly and rubs her back. 

“You need to relax,” Blaine says.  “If they haven’t called you back, then they haven’t made a decision.  You just… need a distraction, something to make you not think about it for a while.” 

Rachel’s eyes bulge a little.  “Yes! I need a relaxing distraction.” She grabs onto Blaine’s arms suddenly.  “Camping.  We should go camping.” 

Blaine throws Kurt a look over Rachel’s shoulder.  Kurt only rolls his eyes.  “Have you ever even been camping, Rach?” 

“My dads took me camping when I was twelve,” she says.  “Besides, Jesse has this cute little cabin upstate that we’ve never used.  His mom gave it to him a few years ago because she got it in the divorce, and she doesn’t really use it - but his dad would go up there and drink all day and this one time he nearly started a fire and..” 

“Anyway…” Kurt cuts her off.  

“But just think of it,” she continues.  “This weekend, all of us - the whole gang.  This past year has been so crazy, and the summer’s almost over, and think of us all sitting around the campfire out on the lake, cuddling with each other, eating those marshmallow cracker things. You know with the chocolate.”  

“S’mores,” Kurt and Blaine say in unison.  Only Rachel Berry wouldn’t know what s’mores are called.  

She claps her hands together.  “Yes, this is great - this is going to be great.  I should call everyone!”  

“Um, Rach…” Kurt slides off the couch, hoping maybe he can throw her out the door.  “Maybe we can figure out this for another time?  Blaine and I were hoping to use this weekend to, you know, reconnect.”  Blaine nods his head frantically in agreement.  

“What, no,” Rachel pouts.  “I don’t have time - I have so many auditions to go to, and I know they’ll call me Monday morning - I need a distraction.  Besides you guys can reconnect upstate in nature. Oh! We can all reconnect with nature!”  

“No.” 

“Please?” She bats her eyes at him.  It’s not like it usually works, but she tries anyway.  “C’mon, please! It’ll be fun.  When’s the last time we did anything fun.  Please, please, please!” 

“Rachel…” Kurt shoots a look over to Blaine, hoping he’ll help him out.  

Blaine, however, is super fascinated with a string on the couch.  “Um, I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” 

Rachel squeals with delight.  

Kurt throws Blaine a sharp look.  Traitor.

“This is wonderful, I’m going to call Mercedes right now,” Rachel fishes her phone out of her pocket.  “Oh, do you guys mind if I stay here tonight? Jesse’s at a cast party, and probably won’t be back until tomorrow morning, and you know I think that place is haunted.”

“For the last time, Jesse’s Tony is not alive!” Kurt snaps, throwing his hands in the air.  

Rachel points her phone at him intently. “You don’t know that - it doesn’t watch you.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes at her.  

“So, I’ll just use your bed, and you guys can continue to use the couch however you were using it.  That’s fine.” Rachel says, scrolling through her phone as she heads to the bedroom.  “If you guys want to make me some tea in the morning that’d be great,” she adds as she slams the door behind her.  

Kurt clenches his jaw, wondering why he ever let that woman into his life.  

Blaine’s still playing with the string.  “So, uh, do you still wanna…” 

“No.” 

“Okay.”  

***

Apparently, everyone in their friend group thought camping would be a great idea.  Everyone except Kurt, because god knows he’d rather be back in his comfortable apartment, sleeping in an actual bed, and not on the ground, actually trying to do something about the fact that his life currently doesn’t have a direction, but no - they have to follow Rachel’s whim instead.  

They’ve been stuck in the car for about five hours now.  Jesse is driving with Rachel on the passenger side. They’re going over some vocal techniques, and the past twenty minutes have been Rachel doing strange squawking sounds.  Kurt is sitting on the left side of the backseat, Tina next to him, and Mercedes on the other end.  They’re chatting a little bit, but he can’t hear them very well over Rachel’s noises and the incredibly loud Best of Barbra Streisand playing through the speakers.  He wouldn’t mind the CD so much if they hadn’t played it on a loop a half dozen times already.  

He is squished, and uncomfortable, and the small pillow he brought to lean against made his head too warm.  He tries shifting around, but Jesse’s seat is nearly pushed all the way back, and there is just no way he’s going to get in a good position.  There hadn’t been enough room in the car to bring any kind of bags, so he’s stuck with only his phone to keep him company.  He tries to check his email again, but they’re steadily going farther out of range from any place with decent wifi.  He contemplates trying another game of solitaire when a text bubble pops up.  

Blaine: Artie’s writing a screenplay!!! 

Blaine, thank god.  It makes Kurt smile.  He and Blaine, by default, ended up separated.  Since Jesse rented the cars, he and Rachel had first choice.  And of course, Santana claimed driving the second car or she wasn’t going.  Artie and Sam insisted they ride together to play some kind of video game, while Tina begged Mercedes to ride with her so they could gossip, leaving him and Blaine to settle for being apart.  

Kurt: When isn’t he? 

Blaine: This one’s hilarious - it’s greek myth. 

Blaine: he’s basically writing greek myth fanfic 

Blaine: Artie says he’s going to use this weekend to write.  Sam thinks he’s going to end up like jack nicholson in the shining. 

Kurt: Should we be concerned? Artie would do that.

Blaine: here’s artie ::knife:: ::knife:: ::knife::

Kurt lets out a little laugh.  

“Oh my god, are you sexting with Blaine?” Tina whips her head around to notice him.  

His mood immediately sours.  “Yes, Tina - I’m sexting Blaine.  I’m bored enough that I thought I’d just jerk off and see if anyone would notice.”  

“Oh, don’t give me that attitude, Kurt Hummel,” she snaps.  “I was in the backseat next to you on the way to Mr. Schue’s wedding and you and Blaine made out the whole time and it was super gross.”  

She makes a grab for his phone, but he swings it away from her.  

“Tina, we were in college, god,” he says.  “No, I’m not sexting Blaine.”  

“Ug, gross, you totally are,” she rolls her eyes at him, then turns so that her back is to him and begins to whisper over to Mercedes.  

He’d really like to bite at her that maybe she should worry less about his sex life and more about her lack of one, but decides not to.   Can they just get to the campsite already?

Kurt: Tina thinks we’re sexting. 

Blaine: yeah she wishes

Blaine: ::devil:: ::eggplant:: ::eggplant:: ::eggplant:: ::donut:: ::wink:: ::wink::

Kurt: omg, I love you

The three little gray bubbles dance on Kurt’s screen for a few moments… Hey, maybe they are going to do this, but Kurt can’t help but have a twinge of disappointment when he sees Blaine’s reply. 

Blaine:  Sam wants to take me on in Smash.  We’ll talk in a few hours.  Tell Tina to get her nose out of our sex life.  

Blaine: ::eggplant:: ::heart:: ::kissyface::  

And then Blaine is gone.  Is it weird to miss your husband? Your husband whom you do see extensively every day.  It’s not like he’s not there.   Kurt starts to scroll up through their previous conversations - which is a collection of short inquiries and yes or no replies, the daily upkeep of ‘can you pick up milk?’ and ‘remember to call the dentist to set up an appointment.’ When did they get so boring?

Kurt pushes his pillow up against the window and rests his head on it, closing his eyes.  He ignores the crick in his back, and thinks of Blaine, and if Blaine were beside him.  They could cuddle up, and Kurt could get snug in his arms and fall asleep easily.  He concentrates hard on that thought as the car rumbles on down the endless highway.  

***

It’s late when they arrive, and though the sun is still up, everyone is too exhausted to do much.  The cabin is much tinier than expected, set up like a studio; only one queen-sized bed, a sofa, and a hard wooden floor for possible sleeping places.  Sam and Jesse both brought tents, but only Sam sets his up, and only Mercedes can fit in there with him. 

The ground is still damp from a morning rain, so the campfire is out of the question.  A few of them travel into town to bring back pizza for dinner, which ends up being the highlight of the evening.  Afterward, Santana takes a phone call and spends half the evening yelling at her client.  Sam and Jesse attempt to set up the second tent, but it proves to be too difficult, and they decide to try again tomorrow.  And Artie settles into a corner to write his script.  The girls, at least, are having fun playing video games with Blaine while Brittany recounts every ghost story she’s ever heard.  Kurt finds himself in a moldy, stiff recliner and tries to read, finding it hard to concentrate with all the commotion going on.  

Eventually, Sam and Mercedes head out to their tent, everyone having piqued interest as they flirt with each other on their way out.  Are they even back together? Kurt has no idea, but the gossip is curbed as they all get ready for bed.

Rachel and Jesse have claimed the bed, since it is Jesse’s cabin, while Brittany and Santana claimed the rug by the fireplace.  Artie lets Tina have the sofa while he sleeps on the floor next to her.  Leaving the small space near the bathroom for Kurt and Blaine.  

“The internet sucks here,” Kurt says, scrolling through his phone, as he tries to find a comfortable position in his sleeping bag..  The floor is hard and unforgiving, and somewhere someone is already snoring.  He can already tell it’s going to be a long night.   

“The point is not to have internet here,” Blaine says, just having gotten back from the bathroom.  He settles in and rolls on his side to face Kurt, plucking the phone away, and tossing it gently on their bags.  Blaine’s sleepy, but cuddles up to Kurt, even with the lining of the sleeping bags between them.  “Relax, Kurt, we’re taking a vacation.”  

“Unemployment isn’t a vacation,” Kurt says.  If he stretches, he could get his phone back, but the effort doesn’t seem worth it.  

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that,” Blaine says into his shoulder.  

“You said that.”  

“Kurt…”  Blaine’s tone is playful, and he gives a few gentle kisses to the back of Kurt’s neck.  “Tomorrow, let’s not think of the future, just enjoy our time together.  Maybe we can stay back and get that other tent up, then we can cozy up, enjoy the stars…” 

Kurt cranes his neck back so he can give Blaine a kiss.  Blaine immediately deepens it, sliding his tongue against Kurt’s.  

“You’re really good at that,” Kurt says breathlessly.  

“I try.” 

Kurt goes to kiss Blaine again when someone clears their throat.  It’s Artie on the way to the bathroom.  “You guys keep it up, I’ll film you and sell it as porn,” he says waving his phone in the air.  He lets out a laugh as he rolls into the bathroom.  

Kurt lets out an annoyed grunt as he turns in Blaine’s arms to face him.  “This place is too cramped.”

“This place reminds me of the loft,” Blaine says, looking around.  

Kurt scrunches his nose.  “The loft was far cleaner.” 

Blaine gives a shrug. “It’s kind of nice,” he gives Kurt a quick peck.  “And romantic.”  Another peck.  “And has some charm.”  And another long kiss, engaging enough that Kurt seriously contemplates just doing it right there with all their friends watching.  Let Artie film it for porn - it’d be worth something.  Blaine is right there with him.  “Remember that time we did it when Rachel’s dads visited?” he wiggles his eyebrows.  

“What, gross!” Rachel says from the bed.  She’s only a foot away, but apparently can hear everything they're saying, and throws her hair tie at them.  “I can’t believe you did it in front of my dads.”

“Wanky!” Santana calls out from the other side of the cabin. 

“No, no, no, no,” Tina calls out.  “No one is having sex tonight.  Because ew.  Go to bed, all of you, I need my sleep.”  

“See -- just like the loft,” Blaine says with a laugh.  

“And may I remind you, we also broke up in that loft,” Kurt says.  “Remember that?” 

“Fine.” 

He doesn’t mean for the memory to be a mood killer, he’s not even sure what had prompted him to bring it up, but Blaine just sighs heavily and rolls over to face the wall instead of Kurt.  He should say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t, and instead just wraps an arm around Blaine, cuddles close, and after a lot of time thinking about how far away Blaine still feels, long after Blaine’s breathing slows, Kurt manages to fall asleep.  

***

Kurt is having a nice dream - something calm and bright and possibly related to an exciting new trend in men’s fashion but there are noises around him, pulling him away from dreamland.  Reality seems to crash fast, and suddenly he’s aware that every part of his body aches.  The wooden floor hadn’t been kind during the night, and now just rolling from his side to his back makes everything cramp up.  God, he’s not even thirty yet.  The floor creaks beside him, so he opens one eye to find Blaine, fully dressed, leaning over him with a grin.  

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Blaine gently kisses his temple.  

Kurt groans, half-heartedly swatting him away.  Unlike yesterday, the sun is bright and blinding through the window, causing Kurt to cover his eyes with his arm.  “I don’t know how you can get up so early and be chipper all the time.”

“Kurt, it's a quarter to twelve.”  

“What?” Kurt bolts upright.  “And you didn’t wake me?” 

Blaine shrugs.  “You seemed like you needed the sleep.  But - I did make you lunch.  And I used the morning to pitch the second tent.  Well, Sam helped me after I got myself thoroughly tangled in it.  I thought maybe we could use that tent tonight.” Blaine gives him a wink.  

Kurt grimaces.  Like sleeping on the ground will be any better than the wooden floor.  Still, Kurt rises with the help of Blaine.  

By the time Kurt gets around and has lunch, the rest of the group is in an argument about the activity for the day.  Canoeing? Rafting? Staying in-doors and playing board games?  Blaine is enthusiastic about all of the ideas.  Kurt doesn’t care - he’d rather not be there at all.  Eventually, as some sort of compromise, they settle on hiking the nearby trail.  Kurt grumbles at the decision, but it’s either go with them, or stay back and do nothing while Artie works on his screenplay.  At least he’ll have Blaine around.  

The trail ends up not being so bad.  It’s an easy path, relatively flat for beginners.  The air is warm, but not overly stifling.  Everyone is mostly paired up, except for Tina, who complains that she’s the only one there without a partner, so Sam and Mercedes keep her in between them.  Rachel and Santana set a fast pace, each of them leading the pack, as if they were all in some sort of strange race. Meanwhile Brittany zig zags around, talking to the trees and leaves and birds as if she were a Disney Princess and they were her friends.  

Kurt drags behind, hands digging into the pockets of his jeans as they walk.  He mildly listens to Jesse and Blaine, who are a step ahead of him, having a conversation about some reality TV show hiring drag queens for an episode.  Blaine is animated as he talks, bouncing around the trail, as he does impersonations.  Jesse howls with laughter, and it's endearing enough that even Kurt can’t help but smile.  

They make it a mile down the trail, enough so that Kurt’s hardened edge from the previous day has worn down a little, when the sky begins to cloud over.  Rachel insists that rain is afoot, and promptly turns them around to head back.  Kurt doesn’t think it’s all that threatening out, but Rachel can’t go a couple of hours without checking her phone, which she left at the cabin, so of course time outside will be cut short.  

As they start their return, Blaine falls back, silently going for Kurt’s hand to clasp.  Kurt smiles, feeling lighter at his husband’s touch.  He squeezes Blaine’s hand, bringing him a little closer as they walk.  

Everyone has shuffled around, though Kurt and Blaine remain bringing up the rear.  Sam and Mercedes are ahead of them, heads close.  Sam whispers something into her ear, which causes Mercedes to full on stop and throw her head back with a bark.  

“I’m pretty sure they’re dating again,” Blaine says quietly.   

It’s unmistakable really, the way they’re flirting, and gazing into each other’s eyes.   “She and Tina, I think, were talking about it in the car on the way over.  I couldn’t tell.”  

They walk another beat in silence, Sam has Mercedes now crying in a fit of hysterics.  

“Do you ever miss that stage?” Kurt asks.  “That I’m-crazy-about-you stage?”

“Are you saying you’re no longer crazy about me?” 

It’s clearly a joke but Kurt frowns.  “You know what I mean.”  

Blaine gives an easy shrug.  “Not really.  I mean, are we settled? Sure.  But I like the security in that.  Do you miss it?”  

There is a tiny bit of concern in Blaine’s eyes, but he really has nothing to worry about.  The short answer is no, Kurt Hummel has made his final decision and that’s all there is to that.  The long answer is that with all the passion that came from their early time together came the rocky uncertainty as to whether or not they’d actually make it.  There were times when Kurt thought that first loves were hard and fast and that’s it.  And for most people they are he supposes.  But not for he and Blaine. 

“I like what we have now,” Kurt says, looking down at their linked hands.  “I guess I… just miss it.”   

“Mmmm, yeah,” Blaine licks his lips, then suddenly sweeps Kurt into his arms, giving him a passionate kiss.  

Kurt’s startled for only a moment before he begins to kiss back.  “Blaine!” he gasps.  “What are we doing?” 

“I think we should take full advantage of the situation,” Blaine replies, as he kisses down to suck on Kurt’s neck.  “Why not take advantage of the situation and be a little spontaneous.”  

“We’re outside, Blaine,” Kurt argues, though not very strongly..  “You can’t possibly suggest that…” 

Blaine pulls away, staring at him with wide, dark eyes.  No one else is there - the rest of the group is nearly out of earshot.  And Blaine’s grip tightens on him, pulling their bodies together.  Kurt wants this so badly, he doesn’t even care anymore.  He surges into a kiss with Blaine, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck.  Blaine pushes Kurt backwards, off the trail and against a tree.  There’s a tiny stub digging into Kurt’s back, but he doesn’t care.  Blaine’s tongue is in his mouth, doing wonderous things, and Kurt just melts into him.  

“I can’t believe we’re doing this here,” Kurt says, with a little giggle.  He’s more turned on than he cares to admit, and rocks his hips against Blaine as they kiss, generating heat with a growing need. 

“You’re not the only one who’s missed this, you know,” Blaine utters between kisses.  He wraps one arm around Kurt to steady them, while his free hand dips to squeeze Kurt’s ass, causing Kurt to let out a tiny moan.  “Remember when we tried to do this at that club?” 

Kurt lets out a little laugh as he grinds into Blaine.  “I’m pretty sure it’s cleaner here than that club.”

Blaine’s fully encouraged now, peppering kisses along Kurt’s jaw, taking a moment to give a little bit at Kurt’s ear.  “There’s something I didn’t get to do at that club.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Suck you off,” he says in a growly whisper.   

“Oh god.”

That does it.  Just the mere thought of Blaine’s mouth on him has him fully hard now.  Any misgivings about being outside, being caught by anyone walking by, are completely gone.  It’s just he and Blaine - the world is nothing but them, and the promise of an orgasm he desperately needs.  

Blaine drops to his knees with a thud and an unexpected crack.  Before Blaine can get his hands (or mouth) anywhere near Kurt’s dick, he’s crying out in pain.

It takes a moment for Kurt to register what happened.  He’s still in a slight daze, his dick’s still throbbing, but Blaine’s on the ground, rolling around holding his knee.  “Honey, are you okay?”

“I hit a rock,” Blaine grunts out.  He goes to stand, but his leg gives out.  Kurt hurries to him to help him up, but Blaine pushes at him.  “I’m fine, really, we can still do this.  I can.”  

Their spontaneous moment, however, had been fleeting.  There’s a large centipede crawling near Blaine’s leg, and a fly lands on his shoulder.  A squirrel watches them from across the trail.  And Kurt begins to notice the leaves on the vine near them might be poison ivy.  This is not a good idea, his rational mind catching up to him, now that his dick has calmed down.  This is so not a good idea.  

“I don’t think we should,” Kurt says, managing to help Blaine to his feet.  

A second later, Sam finds them, a branch in hand as if to attack.  “Oh god, are you guys okay? We heard a scream -- and I thought maybe it was that serial killer from Brittany’s story last night.”  The rest of the crew is close on Sam’s heels.  

Kurt rolls his eyes as they approach. “We’re okay, Sam.”  

“I just… tripped,” Blaine says, walking onto the trail with a slight limp.  

“Tripped my ass,” Santana cackles, looking them over.  “They were trying to get in a quick fuck while we weren’t looking.”

“Crude!” Tina shouts in disgust.  

Santana howls in laughter.  “Judging by the dour look on Queen Hummel’s face, the only thing that got shoved up his ass was probably a stick.” 

“Hey,” Blaine scolds. 

But it’s too late.  Kurt breaks.  All of the anger that had been pent up for the past few days spews forward, Kurt hardly able to contain his shout.   “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Santana.”  

“Fine, can I borrow your stick?” Santana bites back.

Brittany lets out a gasp.  Rachel squeals excitedly. 

“Hey, stop,” Mercedes cuts in before it can escalate further.  “Blaine, are you okay?” 

Blaine nods.  “I’ll be fine, just maybe need a little ice on my knee.”  He shoots a look at Kurt then to the ground.  

“Sam, make sure he gets back alright,” Kurt mutters as he pushes past them.  He starts the walk back home by himself.  He doesn’t wait for anyone.  And no one catches up to him.  

***

Hours later, Kurt lay in the second tent that Blaine and Sam had erected that morning, looking up at the sky through the clear, plastic roof of the tent.  Evening had melted away into night, the quarter-moon shining, with the stars sparkling around it.  Living in the city for so long now, he doesn’t get to see the stars anymore, and as he lay there, one arm tucked behind his head, he wondered why he never paid them much attention when he lived in Ohio.  

It’s quiet outside, peaceful almost with the calm sounds of nature surrounding him.  The temperature is nice.  He’s rather comfortable, really.  Everything is perfect.  This trip should have been, if nothing else, a perfect escape.  Then why doesn’t anything feel right? 

He had kept his distance when everyone came back to the cabin - not wanting to disrupt their seemingly good time.  The afternoon had brought a light rain, which meant board games and hot cocoa, and a lot of laughter that Kurt should have partook in.  Even Artie had paused his writing to join in.  Kurt watched from a distance, sometimes attempting to read a magazine, other times just watching as his friends enjoyed themselves, frustrated that he didn’t feel like coming to the table.  Mostly, everyone ignored him, except Santana who would throw an occasional eye-roll his way, or Blaine who would check in on him with his standard look of concern.  

After dinner, Kurt had gone for a walk around the area on his own.  His mind had wandered, from planning out possible job ideas, to going over the events of the past few months again, to replaying the embarrassing moments from earlier in the day.  The walking had been a nice attempt to clear his head but he had remained unsettled, and even frustrated.  Couldn’t the tension in his chest just relax? Couldn’t he just enjoy himself for once? 

“I’m going to sleep out in the tent,” he had told Blaine before he turned in for the night.  No one else had seemed like arguing over it, so Kurt had figured he should grab it while it was still open.  Would the ground be more comfortable than a wooden floor? He had no idea but at least he’d have his own space to fall asleep in.  Blaine had given him an off center kiss, and had watched him carefully as he changed and headed outside.  

And here he’s been, for a few hours he’s suspected, looking up at the sky, watching the sun set and the stars come out, feeling the contradictoriness of being glad he’s alone while feeling the heaviness of loneliness.  He’s in a mood - he knows himself well enough, but the root of what’s bothering him still feels far away, like a thought he can’t quite grasp.  

He’s not sure how much time has passed when the tent’s entryway is unzipped, and Blaine climbs in.  He doesn’t watch Blaine on arrival, but he knows Blaine’s movements well enough, to know that it’s him. 

He feels reassured almost immediately.  Blaine always comes back - a true constant in his unpredictable life.  

“Everyone’s getting a bit punchy in there,” Blaine says as a loose excuse.  “And I thought it’d be a good time to duck out.” 

“How’s your knee?” Kurt asks, not taking his eyes off the sky. 

“Fine,” Blaine says quietly, coming down to lay next to Kurt.  He snuggles close, as he usually does at the beginning of the night, wrapping an arm around Kurt and shimming in.  “I don’t always like it when you’re like this,” he says carefully, not quite a frown on his face.  “And I know you need your space sometimes.   But that doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”  

The tension seems to break, and Kurt lets out a heavy sigh as he turns towards Blaine.  He isn’t sure what to say - not sure he has an explanation.  “I don’t know why…” 

“You don’t have to figure everything out tonight, Kurt,” Blaine assures him.  “We can just sleep and figure it out tomorrow.”  

Kurt gives a half-smile, and kisses Blaine’s forehead.  Thank you, he thinks.  And Blaine knows.  Blaine knows him well now, better than most anyone.  Kurt is grateful for that. 

They stare at each other quietly for a little while, until sleep creeps up on Blaine, and his eyes begin to droop.  Blaine always did have an easier time falling asleep.  

Kurt’s gaze remains fixated on Blaine for a while longer.  There’s enough light coming from above that Kurt can still make out Blaine’s features - his gorgeous, long eyelashes, his adorable nose, the ridiculous eyebrows.  Blaine’s lips part slightly, a sign that he’s actually fallen asleep, and Kurt smiles to himself.  He takes a moment to trace a light finger over Blaine’s cheekbones, chin, and brow, and marvels at how beautiful his husband is.  

It’s not like he’s forgotten that fact.  But maybe sometimes he takes it for granted.  Doesn’t appreciate it enough.  

Sometimes Kurt wonders if he appreciates life enough.  

Still, for the first time that evening, he’s regained some of that inner peace he’d been missing earlier. Blaine is right - he won’t figure it all out overnight.  And then, as if a switch had been flipped, he finally feels tired.  Incredibly tired.  He snuggles into Blaine and falls asleep thinking about how he doesn’t mind so much sleeping on the ground when Blaine is beside him. 

***

The next morning he wakes up alone.  Blaine’s sleeping bag has been rolled up nicely, and placed in the corner of the tent, his pillows resting on top, as if he had never used them.  Blaine’s always been an early riser, but with the gray clouds looming overhead, it’s difficult to determine what time it is.  Kurt leaves the tent, still groggy but it’s better than sleeping the entire day away.  Besides, he has to use the bathroom.  

The cabin’s empty - and after the bathroom, he realizes that not even Artie’s there.  For a moment, Kurt wonders if they’ve left him there and peeks out the window.  Two cars are still there, so they couldn’t have gone very far.  Instead of investigating more, he decides to enjoy the quietness, inspecting the cupboards for something to make breakfast with.  There’s nothing there, except for stale Oat Bran, probably left over by Jesse’s mother.  He settles on making coffee, then into the couch with one of his magazines.  

For some people the quietness is probably unsettling but for the first time all weekend, Kurt almost feels relaxed by it.  The cabin and the outdoors may not have been so bad if he hadn’t been surrounded by nine other people.  

The cabin door slams shut and in comes Rachel, startled that he’s there.  She’s holding her phone, looking almost bewildered.  She didn’t get it.  Kurt’s stomach turns as he knows he’s in for whatever emotion is going to be hurled at him.  He closes the magazine with a heavy sigh sips his coffee, waiting for her to speak.   

She stumbles a few steps in and flops down on the couch beside him.  

“Look, there will be other plays,” he starts, knowing this particular monologue by heart.  “It’s not the end of your career.”  

“I got it,” she says, unexpectedly.  “I’m going to be Jane Austen.” 

“What?”

“They want me to start tomorrow - oh my god, we probably have to get back tonight!  Do you know how much research I have to cram in the next twelve hours?”  

He stares at her in awe as she begins rambling on about how Jane Austen is her favorite author (as if she’s ever picked up a novel not written in the last ten years, and didn’t belong on a paperback rack in an airport).  His heart sinks.  He’s been prepared to lift Rachel up - it’s been his second job since sixteen.  How does he somehow feel worse? 

“Why are you not happy for me?” she scolds.  “You are my first line of adoration, after Jesse of course.”  

“Because it was inevitable, Rachel,” he snaps, startling her.  “You’re a talented person, and don’t pretend you don’t know that.  Someone was bound to hire you for something.” 

Her face sours.  “You know, you have been in a very bad mood this entire trip.  I have noticed, and other people have, too.  I don’t understand what your problem is.”  

“My problem is that you getting a part was always going to happen.  Always,” he doesn’t care that he’s nearly shouting at her.  He’s been holding back for days now, and it feels good to let it out.  “I, however, am not sure.  And instead of thinking about that, I really wanted to have a nice weekend having hot sex with my hot husband, which I now do not get to do.”  

Rachel gives an odd look.  “What are you talking about - you and Blaine are always doing it.  Santana says it’s a sex addiction, but I think it’s healthy in a relationship.  Jesse and I make sure once a week to--” 

“Maybe we aren’t!” The loudness of his voice echoes on the otherwise empty cabin.  “Despite what the rest of you feel, I barely get to touch my husband.  And instead of spending a weekend rediscovering that, and ignoring the impending reality that I have no idea what my next job is going to be, you dragged us up here for your pity party.  Yes, my attitude has been horrible.  I know that.  But maybe, sometimes Rachel, not all of us rejuvenate in a crowd of admirers.”  

She stares at him blankly for a moment.  “Is that true?” 

“That you love crowds?  Do you not know yourself?” 

“No, about you and Blaine.”  

He takes a deeper breath, calming down.  “Yes, Rachel.”  His mind slips, unintentionally, to Blaine’s hands - Blaine’s hands on him, and he feels a deep ache.  “I don’t remember the last time we were together.”  

“Oh,” she’s much quieter than usual.  “You guys have given up a lot for me over the years.” 

“Rachel…” 

“No, it’s true,” she says, standing - deep in thought.  “And I’ve barely paid you back.  I mean, I recognize that you’re an integral part of my emotional well being, and if you’re not getting what you need, then the whole system begins to fall apart.” 

He almost feels like laughing.  Rachel’s emotions always change on an unexpected dime.  “Rachel, it’s fine…” 

“It’s not,” she says.  “I’ve got this part because you didn’t give up on me, even though you clearly have some issues to work out.  So, I think it’s time I start giving back.  And I have an idea, which may not be much right now, but let’s say it’s a start.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her.  “What?” 

She grins.  

***  

Rachel’s brilliant idea happens to be a hotel, well a smaller hotel which might be properly called a bed & breakfast with its rustic charm.  They’re still in the woods, but at least they have a warm roof over their head and a wide window in their room that looks out on a peaceful lake - the picturesque view of nature without having to be entrenched in it.  While the rest of their friends shuffled off back to Manhattan, Kurt and Blaine had a two night stay.  There’s a hot tub in the bathroom, an all-you-can-eat buffet in the dining room, and a king-sized bed that he didn’t plan to sleep much on.  No interruptions, no phone calls, and no impromptu adventures -- Rachel had promised when she had dropped them off.   Just a little bit of time for the two of them to relax.  This is what Kurt had needed.  His hectic life in the city being put on hold for just a little while.  

Kurt is in a fluffy, white bathrobe, curled up on the lounge chair with some tea from room service and a few magazines from the gift shop, waiting for Blaine to be done in the bathroom.   He reads another article in the magazine, loosely paying attention to the sounds coming from the shower.  He can hear Blaine singing, humming from a pop song that melts into an old Broadway standard, probably unaware that Kurt’s in the other room imagining the water trickling down his naked body.  Kurt’s tempted to join him, despite having a lengthy shower earlier to get all the grime from the weekend off his skin.  Fortunately, he hears the faucet turn off, and another moment later, Blaine’s out of the bathroom, a towel barely clinging to his hips.  

Blaine stops at the full length mirror next to the dresser, then unwraps the towel from around his waist and uses it in an attempt to dry his hair.  Kurt can’t help but stare at Blaine’s bare ass, grinning as he sips his tea.  He resists the urge to pounce, as Blaine combs his fingers through his hair, trying to control the curls which have started to spring.  

“So…” Blaine, grumbling defeat with his hair, comes to the edge of the bed and sits, the towel now half in his lap.  

“So?” Kurt raises an eyebrow.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Blaine’s face is serious. 

Kurt sighs..  “Is talking what you really want to be doing?”  

“Kurt,” Blaine elongates his name, endearingly, and tilts his head.   “I’m not going to let you bottle things up.  This weekend was--” 

“Why don’t we move on from this weekend?” Kurt sets the tea and the magazine on the nightstand, and moves out of the chair.  He undoes the robe, letting it fall open, revealing that he’s wearing nothing underneath.  He then begins to touch himself, leisurely stroking his dick as he comes towards the bed, showing Blaine there’s really only one thing on his mind.  

Blaine smirks, but is, unfortunately, not easily persuaded.  “What’s going on?  You haven’t talked to me all weekend, c’mon...”  

“Well…” Kurt comes to the bed, pulls Blaine’s towel off and to the ground, then straddles Blaine’s lap, curling his arms around Blaine’s shoulders.  “We just finished an emotionally and mentally draining show.  I spent the last two days sleeping on the ground.  And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to find a moment of peace so that I can have mind-blowing sex with my really hot husband.”  Kurt reaches between them, and begins to slowly stroke Blaine.  

“Ku-urt…” It’s a half-hearted protest as Blaine becomes quickly interested in Kurt’s hand. 

Kurt draws in close to Blaine’s ear and whispers, “let’s fuck now, talk after.” 

Blaine’s resolve breaks.  Their mouths crash together in a heated kiss, Blaine’s mouth remaining hot on Kurt’s skin as Kurt shifts.  Blaine manages to get his lips around one of Kurt’s nipples and sucks.  Kurt lets out a groan as Blaine swirls his tongue around it. Kurt arches as Blaine begins to suck and god-fucking-finally they’re going to do this.  

Blaine breaks away from his nipple, allowing Kurt to bend down and kiss Blaine hard.  He isn’t in the mood he was in on Thursday night, where he had wanted to be casual and slow and enjoy Blaine as much as possible.  No time to be delicate - his entire body is aching for it.  He needs it now, and he heats up the kiss, sliding his tongue into Blaine’s mouth.  Blaine groans, and despite the earlier reservations, Blaine’s now as hungry as Kurt, wrapping his arms around him so they can be closer together.  

Kurt reaches between them, taking both of them in his hand this time, and unevenly jerks their erections as they kiss.  There’s not as much friction as Kurt would like, but Blaine’s dick is throbbing next to his, and that’s fine for now.  It’s not like this is going to end with a simple hand job.  

They kiss a little longer, until Blaine breaks it off, steadying himself with one hand on the bed as he pumps his hips in time with Kurt’s hand.  They’re both hard and more than ready to step it up.  

“What do you want?” Blaine pants.  

I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it for the next week , Kurt thinks, desparate at the thought of Blaine inside him, pounding him the way he needs it. But coherent words aren’t coming and all that stumbles out is a grunt of ‘fuck me’.  

It’s a hurried mess of hands and limbs as they shuffle around again.  Kurt manages to get off the bed entirely, discarding the robe without a thought, pulling Blaine’s towel to the floor as well.  Blaine’s off the bed in another second, taking no time to wrap himself up in Kurt.  They turn mid-kiss, Blaine pushing Kurt back to the bed.  Blaine manages to give Kurt’s ass a pert squeeze before Kurt settles on the edge of the bed.  

Blaine goes to his knees. 

“Are you sure this is okay - your knee,” Kurt manages to remember as he spreads his legs for Blaine.  

Blaine looks up at him, eyes dark and ready.  “Could be completely shattered and it wouldn’t stop me from doing this right now.”  

Kurt melts just a little more.  “Blaine…”

“Too much talking, Kurt,” he says, before sinking his mouth over Kurt’s dick.  

Kurt falls back on the bed, letting out a long groan as Blaine completely takes over.   He had almost forgotten how good Blaine is with his mouth, knowing exactly how Kurt likes to be sucked off.  Kurt just relaxes into Blaine’s touch - the tension, the anxiousness from the weekend, from the past few months, melting away with every bob of Blaine’s head.  Kurt rocks his hips gently, but mostly lets Blaine take control.  He sucks deeply a few times before pulling back, and swirling his tongue around the head of Kurt’s dick.  Blaine then pulls off entirely, and shifts so that he could begin pulling at himself while he mouths Kurt’s balls, taking time to suck at one, then the other.  Kurt’s on edge, nerves on fire as Blaine then devours Kurt’s dick once again.  

Kurt reaches out a hand to Blaine’s shoulder.  “Blaine, wait,” he says, a bit hazy.  He’s close, but not ready to be done yet.  

Blaine gets it, and stands to retrieve some lube from the suitcase, while Kurt turns to be on all fours, allowing Blaine as much access as he needs to his ass.  Blaine’s back on his knees in a moment, guiding Kurt’s hips closer to his mouth.  Blaine’s hot mouth is on him once again, kissing him, snaking his tongue inside his hole to open him up.   Kurt closes his eyes, giving into the pleasure of it, as Blaine eventually replaces his tongue with a lubed finger, and then two.  Blaine speeds his fingers, pumping in and out as he leans forward to suck kisses on Kurt’s balls.  Kurt rocks with the pace of Blaine’s fingers, the heat building quickly.  Blaine knows his body well, and pulls away before Kurt’s pushed over the edge.  

As Blaine goes to stand, Kurt turns around, managing to sit up so he can grab onto Blaine.  He pulls on Blaine’s dick a few times before sinking his mouth on it.  Blaine’s hardly had any attention shown to him yet, and Kurt needs to rectify that before he gives completely over to Blaine.  God, he loves Blaine’s dick.  He loves the way it feels in his mouth, the heaviness on his tongue, the way it’s so male - so Blaine.  Really, it’s Blaine that he loves so much - even if he isn’t the best at articulating it.  The least he could do is show proper appreciation.  

“Kuuurt,” Blaine grunts, his knees nearly buckling.  “I thought you want to…” 

“Fuck…” Kurt pulls off and licks along Blaine’s length.  “Yeah.”  

Kurt lies back on the bed, elbows supporting him, and spreads his legs wide.  

Blaine’s going to fuck him now.   He’s open and ready and his body is aching now with want and need.  And thank god, Blaine is finally going to be fucking him.  

Blaine climbs on the bed, stroking himself as he hovers over Kurt.  Kurt draws him in for a hungry kiss, tasting himself on Blaine’s lips.  They make out for another moment or two, Kurt drawing his legs up, and wrapping them around Blaine.  Blaine’s dick rests eagerly between Kurt’s cheeks, and Kurt begins to frantically rub against it.  

Blaine breaks the kiss so as to reposition himself, putting the head of his dick at Kurt’s hole, and gently pushes in.  Kurt moans Blaine’s name as he begins to slowly rock his hips, shallowly pumping a few times before completely bottoming out.  They begin to kiss again, deeply, as Blaine begins to give a slow, deep thrust, grinding their hips together with their kiss.  

Everything is electric now, and Kurt can’t remember the last time he felt this connected with his husband.  He feels Blaine everywhere and, fuck yes, this is what he had been missing.  Here is his husband.  Here is his Blaine.  Why, why, why had then gone so long without this?  

The kiss grows sloppier as Kurt, desperate for more movement, begins to pick up the pace.  Blaine steadies himself, allowing Kurt a moment to fuck himself on Blaine’s dick.  The angle isn’t the best, but he needs it so badly he doesn’t care.  He claws at Blaine’s back as he rocks faster and faster.  

“Let me,” Blaine whispers.  Kurt slows, looks into Blaine’s eyes, and sees all the love they share between them.  Blaine gently cups Kurt’s face, gives him a sweet kiss on the lips and whispers again, “let me…” 

Understanding, Kurt pauses and holds on to Blaine tightly.  “I love you,” he says - barely a whisper.

“Love you, too.”  

Blaine pulls out, almost entirely, then slams back into Kurt. Kurt lets out a scream as he feels Blaine deep inside him.  Blaine quickens the pace, slamming into him again and again.  His hips driving with an unstoppable purpose now.  Kurt goes limp on the bed, giving over Blaine complete control, letting him fuck and fuck and fuck and god… Kurt wishes they could just stay in this endless ecstacy of fucking and connection and love and pleasure. 

He’s so close now, so close…  Blaine knows that, too, and sneaks a hand between them, giving Kurt a few strokes, which finally, finally pushes him over.  The orgasm tears through him, causing him to scream out Blaine’s name as he feels it all the way to his toes.  Blaine is not far behind him, a few more pumps and he’s shuttering his orgasm into Kurt.  

Kurt’s pliant and blissed out as Blaine comes down, giving a few final pumps before pulling out completely.  Kurt pulls at him and kisses him, loving and tender.  God, he’s going to sleep so well tonight.  

“Feel better now?” Blaine says, almost with a giggle.  

“Yeah,” Kurt says, breathlessly.  

Blaine gives him a kiss on the forehead.  “Good.” 

***

Later, after they’ve cleaned up and taken another shower, they’re both sitting on the chair; Kurt on Blaine’s lap, both in the complementary white robes.  Kurt is snuggled in Blaine’s arms - the most content he’s been in, well, he isn’t sure how long.  They’re conversation isn’t much beyond casual -- the old lady who had checked them in who had been unexpectedly delighted to know that they were married, Artie’s work-in-progress play, Sam and Mercedes possibly being back together… Until Blaine brings it back around to the discussion he attempted earlier.  

“Kurt, I know there’s something more going on than just lack of sex,” Blaine says.  He’s concerned again, his brow wrinkled with worry.  

Kurt wants to argue that it had been about sex, at least in a way.  Kurt had missed his connection with Blaine - and hadn’t been aware of how deeply he needed to feel close to Blaine again until he had realized just how long it had been missing.  However, Blaine is right, and there are deeper things going on.  He wouldn’t normally call Blaine the sneaky one - he definitely held that title - but he knows Kurt enough that sometimes sex could be a throughway to Kurt’s emotions.  Kurt being relaxed and gentle, and feeling safe enough after sex, that it allows him the opportunity to say what he needs to.  

“Well, for one, we’re now unemployed,” Kurt says, not quite meeting Blaine’s eye.  Outside, a few birds fly over the idyllic lake, the sun setting peacefully on the horizon.  The pit of anxiousness began to stir at the thought of leaving this place and heading home.  

“Okay…” Blaine says slowly.  

“And almost thirty.” 

“True.” 

“And I think, maybe, as much as I love performing, I think I want more stability in my life.” 

Blaine gives him a kind smile.  “Okay.”  

“Okay?”

“Yeah - I get it,” Blaine says with an ease that Kurt can never quite get when planning his life.   “We’ve been doing alright, and have a little bit saved up, and I have a few solid auditions coming up.  So if you want to take some time to figure out what you want to do long term, that’s fine with me.”  

Kurt let out a heavy sigh.  He loves Blaine, he really, really does.  “I don’t know what I want, Blaine.”  

Blaine gave a shrug.  “And that’s okay.  You’ll find something.  We’ll both find something.”  

Kurt runs his fingers through Blaine’s hair, then a finger slowly down Blaine’s cheek.  “I’m sorry I ruined the weekend.  I know you thought it’d be relaxing.”  

Blaine laughs.  “I’m sorry I let Rachel ruin our evening.  I need to say no to her more, I know.  But at least she made up for it.”  

“Well, she could have sprung for the Hilton, but I suppose this will do,” Kurt jokes.  

“At least it’s not outside - and it has a bed.”  

Kurt lets out a laugh before giving Blaine a kiss.  There’s a little more heat behind it than he intended but that’s fine.  What else are they here for? 

“We should start scheduling this again,” Kurt says, as they trade slow kisses.  Round two is a go, but neither are in any hurry to get there.    “It definitely worked for us in high school.”  

Blaine pulls away, “Mmmm, Sundays are a bad time to start then.  It’s a school night and my parents want me home by nine.  Maybe we should schedule for next Thursday when your dad works late.”  

“Don’t kill the mood, Blaine,” Kurt says, laughing as he goes back for a kiss.  

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

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Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

---

God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[hangovercurse]

Live from New York

You’re hosting SNL and get close with one of the cast members

Request: “hi! can you do something about pete where the reader is hosting snl and throughout the week they’re flirting with each other but she’s unsure if they should date and he convinces her? maybe a combo of fluff/angst/smut? it can be whatever :,)”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I told myself I wasn’t going to take that long on this one and then I ended up watching an entire documentary on the making of an SNL episode because I wanted to be as accurate as possible… someone stop me pls

Word Count: 2834

Monday

Despite being a swiftly rising actress, you hated being the enter of attention. You’d always gotten anxious as a kid when a teacher made you stand in front of the class for presentations or during first-day introductions. So being front and center in a room of 30 people who were all there to study and try to impress you was not something you found pleasant.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You spoke timidly to the crowded room, people clapping from their spots on the floor or various couches around the room, “it’s great to be here.”

Lorne cleared his throat, “alright, let’s start with you, Anna.”

You looked around the room as a young woman pitched the first sketch of the night, listening intently to her ideas while trying to match faces with the names Lorne had given you earlier. Then your eyes locked with a pair of deep brown ones, the man wearing a soft smile on his face. He radiated gentle energy despite the tattoos you could see running down his arms.

The pitches continued with an air of lightheartedness and fun. You found nearly everything funny, so you couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to cut any of the sketch pitches.

After a lull in ideas, Lorne announced that cast members could now pitch ideas for Weekend Update character appearances. The man you’d taken an interest in earlier, who you’d since learned was named Pete Davidson, pitched a new set of characters for you and him.

“You know those weird stoner kids in high school who were always hanging out in the parking lot and acted really weird and mysterious? Those characters who just give really vague answers to anything you ask and act like they’ve seen some shit when they have the most normal home lives.”

You giggled, knowing the exact kinds of kids he was talking about. Colin and Michael also chuckled, writing the idea down with some notes of their own. Soon after that, everyone went back to pitching regular sketches, Jost and Che pitching an unusual number of sketches featuring you and Pete.

After a few long hours, the session wrapped; everyone leaving the office space except for you and Lorne, “so, what did you think?”

You chuckled lightly, “you have some seriously talented people on this show, Mr. Michaels. I don’t understand how you guys write an entire show every week.”

“We all work very hard; I’ll tell you that. Now, talk to me. Anything you really liked or really hated?”

You shrugged, “you’re the comedy mastermind, I know nothing. But I thought that weird kids from high school bit was pretty funny.”

Lorne nodded, “So did Jost and Che it seems. Sometimes the kid has a good idea.” You giggled at his reference to Pete as “the kid.” He sighed, “anything else? I noticed you liked that proposal sketch.”

“Yeah, that one was super funny. I will say, I wasn’t too in love with the dad-teacher one, but I would have no problem with it being done with someone else as the daughter.”

Lorne and you spent the rest of the workday discussing the different sketch ideas that came up and gauging what type of comedy suited you best. Before you left, he introduced you to Donna, your dresser who would be helping you out throughout the week.

Tuesday

After a quick tour of the studio by Donna, you were given a list of cast members and writers who wanted to meet with you to get ideas about sketches. You first stepped into a small room with a desk and futon, Donna introducing you to Chloe Fineman and Celeste Yim.

Chloe smiled brightly at you, “okay, so we were thinking that we could do something where I bring you to a sleepover with some friends that you don’t know. But at some point, you try to go to sleep because you have a soccer tournament in the morning but everyone else is being loud and it turns into this big overdramatic argument.”

You giggled softly, “I love that!”

After writing with them for a while, you were whisked away to room after room, finally landing in Colin Jost and Michael Che’s office, where they were hunched over a computer with Pete.

Colin smiled at you, “hey Y/N, how’s your day been?”

“Busy, how are you guys?”

The men responded with variations of “good,” before Michael spoke, “I know it’s late, so don’t feel obligated to stay longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You shrugged, “what time is it? It doesn’t feel that late.”

Pete laughed, teasing Colin and Michael, “c’mon guys, don’t you know that the young people of New York don’t sleep?”

You giggled in agreement as Colin frowned, “I’m only 38, that’s not that old.”

“I’m only 26, Colin,” you said, laughing at the men.

Michael patted Colin on the shoulder, “Jost, we’re getting old.”

Colin frowned before clearing his throat, “anyways, we had a couple ideas for some sketches with you and Pete, if you’re up for it, and we wanted to hash out your weekend update appearance.”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that sounds great.”

The rest of the night (and into the early morning) was spent with the three men, eventually joined by Heidi Gardner and Kyle Mooney to work them into the scripts. A majority of the writing process was simply messing around with various sketch situations until someone found a joke that worked best.

Pete watched you carefully the entire night, doing everything in his power to make you laugh. You had no complaints, doing your best to not openly flirt with him in front of the rest of the cast (and failing quite miserably).

Wednesday

Wednesday was the designated day for the roundtable readthrough. You took a place between Pete and Lorne, who began the reading, “we’ve got 41 sketches so let’s get started.”

The table read was just like any other you’d been through; Lorne wasting no time between sketches to discuss or joke. You struggled with containing your laughter throughout the reading, trying to act professionally. It didn’t help that Pete was making jokes any chance he got, eliciting even more giggles from you.

The three hours seemed to take no time at all as sketch after sketch was read out loud. Every so often you would catch Lorne looking at you with an eyebrow raised, usually after you read one of the sketches with Pete.

After everyone was dismissed, you were led to Lorne’s office with the head writers and producers. There was a large wall covered in sticky notes with each sketch’s name written on one. Lorne turned to you, “what do you think?”

You scanned the wall, listing off some of the sketches that you really liked, though most of them were  great, so you had trouble narrowing them down.

Lorne let out a small laugh, “you guys noticed how she picked out the sketches with Pete in them, too, right?”

Your face went hot, immediately turning to face the ground. Colin and Michael chuckled, “we noticed,” the latter commented.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Y/N, just wanted to point it out to you.” Lorne teased before turning back to the wall and thinking.

You giggled, “you guys suck.”

As embarrassed as you were, your anxiety was surprisingly low. You had been worried about hosting since you got the invite, but the cast and crew had been nothing but kind to you. Even just being able to make jokes like this with the writers made you feel oddly comforted.

You worked on narrowing down which sketches to keep for rehearsals and which ones were going to get cut immediately, a job that was very easy for Lorne but very difficult for you.

Eventually you got it down to enough sketches that Lorne was satisfied and he sent out the list to the cast. He led you out of his office, “you know, you have a real affinity for comedy,” he told you. “I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about sketch comedy, but from that read through you seem to know what you’re doing.”

You blushed slightly, thanking him, “we’ll see if you’re still saying that on Saturday.”

He chuckled, “have a good night.” You waved at him as you walked towards the exit, running into none other than Pete Davidson.

“Hey, you headed out?”

You smiled, “yeah, just got out of my meeting with Lorne. Did you get a chance to look at the revised sketch schedule?”

Pete nodded, walking with you to the door of the theater, “yeah, I noticed you kept a lot of our sketches in there,” he bumped your shoulder, a playful smirk on his face.

A giggle rolled from your lips, “what can I say? We’re funny together.”

He raised an eyebrow, watching as you flagged down your taxi, “whatever you say.”

“Are you complaining about having to work with me?” You asked, opening the door.

He chuckled, “oh yeah. I am just dreading tomorrow.” Sarcasm laced his words, making you laugh.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Thursday

Donna ushered you around all day, making sure you were in the rehearsal space when you needed to be and supporting you from the side. This part of the process came naturally to you, as it was the most similar to rehearsing and filming on movie sets.

When you weren’t rehearsing a scene, you were hanging out with Pete. It was strange how easily you got along, your humors aligning almost perfectly. Not to mention he was a huge flirt and was making it more and more obvious with you. You flirted right back, earning looks of amusement from Lorne throughout the day.

The day was a whirlwind, and by the time you were able to go home, you were exhausted. Pete walked you out to the street again, talking about one of the sketches that went wrong earlier until your taxi pulled up. This time he opened the door for you and helped you inside, “see you tomorrow.”

You smiled up at him, “bright and early.”

Friday

After hours of rehearsing, you plopped onto the couch in Pete’s dressing room, where you had found yourself a home over the past few days, “I don’t know how you guys do this every week. I’ve been here for four days and I’m exhausted.”

Pete chuckled, “to be fair, you’re the host. The key is to try and only get one sketch into the show so that you don’t have to do anything during the week.”

You laughed, letting a comfortable silence fall over you. Pete studied you, taking in your tired appearance, “you’re doing great though, being a host. I’ve seen some people come in and try to take control of everything and then no one has fun. You’re really good at just letting the comedy speak for itself. Not many people do that.”

Shrugging, you responded, “I mean, I’m not a comedian, I’m just an actor. You guys come up with everything. I don’t know enough to try and control things around here, I just do what I can to make your visions come to life. I figured that’s what a host should do.”

Pete nodded, “yeah, but again, a lot of people want their SNL episode to look a certain way. You don’t seem to care.”

“I just want to have fun, honestly.”

He smirked, “are you?”

You looked up to him with a smile on your face, “definitely.”

Suddenly the speaker in the room rang out, “Y/N and Pete to main stage 1.”

Groaning, you lifted yourself from the couch, Pete watching you with amusement, “c’mon Ms. Host, we’ve got a show to rehearse.”

Saturday

The day was hectic; filled with rehearsal after rehearsal. Lorne and Donna made sure that you were comfortable all day, but you could feel the stress radiating from every inch of the studio.

Stronger than that, though, was the sense of excitement buzzing around everyone. You were fit into more costumes than you could count, all leading up to the final dress rehearsal of the night in front of the live studio audience.

Dress ran smoothly, but you could see Lorne cutting lines from sketches from stage out of the corner of your eye. Luckily, Pete distracted you from all the anxious energy. “I know Lorne looks like a psychopath, but that’s just what he does. Everything’s fine, don’t stress about it,” he said over dinner.

You chuckled, “thanks. I feel so out of my league this week.”

“I told you, you’re great. Everyone here loves you. I heard Lorne talking about wanting you back as soon as possible.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “yeah right, I’m never gonna do anything big enough to get me on this show again.”

Pete laughed, “you could always make guest appearances with me on the Weekend Update.”

“You aren’t sick of me already?” you joked.

After dinner you were paraded around by Donna, who got you into your style for opening monologue. She smiled at you through your dressing room mirror, “how are you feeling?”

You gave her a nervous smile, “terrified, but ready.”

The lady chuckled, “you’ll do great. I’ll be right offstage if you need anything.”

“Thank you, for everything this week.”

She squeezed your shoulders, “don’t mention it, though if you really want to thank me, go ask that Davidson boy out on a date.”

Your eyes went wide, “Donna!”

A chuckle rang out through the room, “what? I say it for your own good.”

She led you through a maze of hallways and tunnels until you were in place to walk onstage, the speaker announcing your name to the audience followed by cheers.

Exactly 90 minutes later you were gathered with the cast on stage, “thank you to Fletcher, Lorne Michaels, this amazing cast and crew, and thank you all for watching. Goodnight everybody!”

You turned to Pete, who was standing beside you and let him pull you in for a hug, “you did it!” he cheered.

You passed around the cast, giving hugs to as many people as you can before Lorne announced, “that’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N and Fletcher!”

Everyone cheered, clapping for you and your musical guest before heading to their dressing rooms to change into their night clothes. You went back to your own dressing room, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of accomplishment.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, “come in!”

Pete entered the room, a wide smile on his face, “congrats!” You let him pull you in for another hug, “so I know that there’s supposed to be this big party after the show, but I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner instead?”

Your breath got caught in your throat, those words being the last thing you expected to hear from him. Of course, you wanted to say yes because you did, truthfully, really like him. But part of you was hesitant.

You’d dated your fair share of celebrities, and things always ended very publicly and typically poorly. On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that this might be happening a bit too quick. You started to doubt that he would still have feelings for you in a week since he wouldn’t be around you nearly all the time.

And then there was the issue of your insane work schedules. Having just lived through his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to keep a relationship like that.

“Pete, I think you’re amazing and I really like you, I just-“

Pete nodded his head, cutting you off, “I know we only met like a couple of das ago, but people go on dates with literal strangers all the time.”

You sighed, “it’s not that, Pete, it’s just that…” you paused, searching for words, “things like this tend to be very public with me, and I really don’t want to have a relationship where there’s all this pressure by the media to be perfect.”

He shrugged, “I get that, but it’s just dinner. And we can go somewhere quiet and private, no one has to know. And if things go further then we’ll just keep it on the down low until you’re ready. Trust me, I know what a public relationship is like, I’m not a huge fan either.”

“Yeah, but what about your work schedule. I mean, I’ve only lived in your world for six days and I want to sleep for a month. How do you even hold a relationship on this schedule?”

Pete moved closer to you, fingers grazing your arm, “we can make it work. I promise. Just give me one date, and if it’s not the best first date of your life, you have no further obligations to me.”

You giggled lightly, leaning into his touch, “I’m only saying yes because you’re kinda cute.”

He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling, I’ll take it.”

[rezzyromance]

Imagine reader having a bad day. She just rants and raves and doesn’t shut the hell up.

Karl is busy trying to work and reader is starting to get on his nerves because he can’t concentrate (while finding her rants low-key cute).

In a moment of madness + frustration, he pushes back his chair, storms over to her and kisses her. He’ll say he did it to shut you up but the really he’s been wanting to do that for a long time.

Need me a guy like this.

You had been ranting for who knows how long. Today, it felt like everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. And, sadly, the only person who was available for you to vent to was Karl. Beloved Karl. It wasn't often he let you interrupt his work so you can talk, let alone complain about things he found rather silly. He felt bad for you due to the frustrated state you were in which is why he agreed in the first place. Now, he's barely gotten any work done as you both sat in his office space.

"And then, this lady at the village looked at me weird. She just kept staring and she scrunched her nose at me as if she was looking at something revolting!", you had been pacing back in forth during the whole rant. Karl was trying to draw out some blueprints, but seeing you pace around back and forth in the corner of his eye kept interrupting. It wasn't as distracting as your words though. You were so flustered and aggravated. While he was growing aggravated as well, he began to find your anger cute.

"And guess what? When I went to the Duke today, HE DIDN'T HAVE WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR! CAN YOU BEIEVE IT?", you threw your arms up in disbelief. "Nope.", he responds with a sigh as he made a tiny adjustment to his barely progressed work. "I was looking for some specific berries. Luckily, the book Donna gave me about the local wildlife said I could find them on bushes. I found the bushes, but there weren't any berries! They're out of season!", you continued to complain, not even checking to see if he was a actively listening. You just kept on until it was all finally of your chest.

"And after that, I tried to fix that chair with the broken leg in the bedroom, and I broke it more! How did I even do that!?', your pacing began to pick up speed. "No clue.", he says bluntly. The pencil he was holding in his hand was about to snap under the pressure he was gripping it with. His other hand was place on his head, propping it up as he rested his elbow on his desk with a growing pissed expression.

"And one of the lycans had a bad cut, so I tried to give it some bandages and the damn thing nearly bit my hand off! I thought you trained those things!", the image of you trying to help an injured lycan and failing drifted around in his head. It was almost as funny as it was distracting. He was fighting a smile that was creeping up on his face. While he found your efforts to help the creature cute, he was still frustrated that his time was seemingly being wasted.

He sat up straight and took a good hard look at the blueprint in front of him. The first picture was barely sketched out. It was covered in eraser shavings from the amount of times he messed up. And, upon further inspection, he could see where he was writing a description for something and accidentally began to write down things that you were saying as he struggled to multitask. The sight of this made his brow furrow and his jaw clench. All of his efforts for his work for the past unknown amount of time were useless.

"And Donna invited me to another tea party, but I can't deal with Angie. I mean I know Donna loves her, but that piece of plastic is fucking nuts and it makes me so uncomfortable.", you continued to rant about the doll. He didn't know if he wanted to correct you and tell you that she's porcelain and not plastic. All he knew is how much he missed the silence of his office now. Although, there was something about you running around in circles while wildly throwing your hands up in frustrated fits of rage that he found adorable.

Finally, he knew he had enough. He knew he had to do something if he wanted to finish his work. He sighed and put down the pencil he was using to draw out some blueprints. He looks over, preparing to tell you to shut up, but he couldn't help but get distracted. You were talking with your hands. And, you kept running your hands through your hair, making messier and messier as your pointless ranting went on and on.

He didn't even notice he was staring until you made eye contact with him and stopped. 'Are you listening to me?" "Yes.", he lies. And with that, your pacing continues as you spout more and more bullshit. His feelings confused him. You were keeping him from being productive and nothing you were upset about had any real long term meaning, but you just looked so cute when you're all riled up. His work laid on his desk, practically screaming to be finished.

"Oh right...", he turned back to his work in hopes to finish it. "And Alcina said I need to think more about what I wear because I care more about how comfortable my clothes are compared to how they look. Isn't that just bitchy?" "Mhm." The mentioning of her caused his eyes to roll. "Please just stop please just stop please just stop please just stop", repeated through his head as he wished for peace and quiet. He accidentally broke his pencil in his tense and clutched hands.

Finally, he had had enough. He threw the broken pencil pieces to the ground and stood up, shoving his chair to the side before marching over towards you. You didn't even notice until his fingers were tangled in your hair, turning your face towards his. He then pulls you into a kiss that lasts a couple of seconds. Enough for him to release some of his energy in a not so aggressive way while also getting you to be quiet for a bit.

You were speechless when he pulled away and he was thankful. "What was that for?', you ask as you smile and grab him by the coat sleeve, tugging on it. He pulls it out of your grasp, but not too aggressively. "Just wanted to shut you up for a goddamn second." "Oh yeah? Well what if I keep talking?" A mischievous smile spreads on your face as he looks back at you with a growing frustrated expression, but you could spot a small smile curling upwards from the corners of his mouth. "Nope.", he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you out the door. Once you're out the door, he puts you down. "Don't interrupt my works again. And, for the love of god, stop caring so much about what other people think. " You open your mouth to object to his decision on kicking you out, but he kisses you again. This time, you can feel him smile into it. He truly just wanted to kiss you again. "Now, leave me alone for a second. When I'm finished, you can tell me about all the other pointless bullshit from your day." And with that, he closes the door. While having you away is less distracting, he still can't help but think of you as he works, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. "Better get this done fast."