#I’m in the mood to spruce things up

[xanrab]

Heyo!

Just wanted to let y’all know that I changed my name from linkygal to XanRab, mostly because I want to try using the new name I picked for myself: Xander! I’m trying to slowly merge all of my tags together into something new

Who knows, might look into actually doing something on desktop version too.

[buttered-baguette-writes]

Snakes Den

Yet another eighth-year fic where Harry learns the Dark Arts: this time, featuring strained friendship golden-trio and Harry joining the Slytherin Skittles! (Also on AO3)

Harry had been dragging his feet since the end of the war.

At the start, it was simply because he was just that tired – physically and mentally. The war that had dictated his entire life so far was finally over, yet he couldn’t find a single second of peace. Both his days and nights were haunted. He waved off any concern directed his way, claiming he just needed more time before he could get back to normal.

But he didn’t know what normal was. He had never gotten the chance to exist. He went straight from the Dursley’s torment to child soldier.

It took yet another sleepless night for him to figure out that he would have to create a normal, create a peace, for himself because the world certainly didn’t seem to want to give him one as an apology.

So, he slowly started making himself at home at Grimmauld Place. He befriended Kreacher, finding he actually quite liked the grumpy house elf. He made his way through the rooms of the house, thinking he might spruce things up a bit if the house tried not to eat him for it. He ended up spending a lot of his time in the library, unsurprised when the room looked different each time he entered.

Harry knew the house had a mind of its own. He was just glad it like him enough to brighten up the library and add a couch under a definitely new window.

At some point, every single ward was reset. The house became centred around him and no one else had access to it anymore.

Well, two people did. And it wasn’t Hermione and Ron. They never visited the house; had never asked to either. The only time Harry saw them was at the Burrow. Somewhat in place of them, Harry found himself hanging out with the twins a lot more. They had all been close before, but the end of the war brought them closer together.

The twins were the only ones Harry allowed into his safe space; and they always called before coming over.

Things started to look up.

Only for his lungs to stop working properly at the Weasley’s dining table because of a simple letter. He was invited back to finish his studies at Hogwarts. The place he had called him home. The place he had loved dearly. The place that eventually turned into a hell he couldn’t bear to be in. He knew he wouldn’t be able to walk through the halls like nothing had happened. Like he wouldn’t be haunted by the faces of people they lost. Like he hadn’t been hunted in the halls.

“-rry?”

“Harry?”

He blinked, vision refocusing. He saw Fred and Goerge standing in front of him, blocking the rest of their family from view.

Harry sucked in a shaky breath before letting it go slowly. Inhale. Exhale.

It was over, it was all in the past, he reminded himself.

“Are you okay, Harry?” George spoke softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to go back, y’know,” Fred said.

“I know, but-” Harry shrugged. “I’m not exactly doing anything else.”

The twins gave him one last look before nodding, returning to their own seats. The rest of the Weasley family was staring at him, concern written all over their faces. Harry saw several people open their mouths, but he wasn’t in the mood to hear whatever it was they had to say – most like just his name in an extremely sad, pitiful tone.

“I’m fine, really. Just never thought of going back before.”

Narrowed eyes looked his way but the twins quickly diverted the conversation and attention away from him.

Harry really loved them.

It was about two weeks before school was set to return that things got a little bit testy.

Harry had been having a good day – had even had a decent enough sleep the night before. He had been mucking about in the Weasley’s yard, having a fun afternoon out in the sun.

Him, Hermoine, Ron, and Ginny were being chased by Fred and George. The twins had recently discovered water balloons and had immediately began filling them with Merlin knows what.

Harry got hit in the centre of his chest with one, his shirt drenched in what he thought was normal water. Until his shirt started to turn see through.

“What the bloody hell is this?!”

The twins grinned proudly. “That is our latest invention!”

“It’s simply water that turns any fabric translucent.”

“We want to put it in a product –“

“But we also don’t want to end up in Wizengamot.”

Harry nodded. He briefly wondered if they would accept any more funding donations for their business…

“You can vanish it like normal water,” Fred said before he turned his attention to his youngest brother, mischief clear.

Ron screamed seconds later.

Harry bent over in laughter only to be tackled by his now slime covered friend. They went tumbling to the floor, pushing and shoving playfully.

Ron suddenly stilled.

“What is that?” The ginger asked, voice carefully even.

Harry followed his gaze down to his own chest where multiple marks on chest could be seen. The marks ran from just under his collar bone to the bottom of ribs, two rows wide on his left side. They could have been mistaken for tattoos.

Harry pushed himself off the ground. He swallowed around the lump in his throat as he noticed the others inching closer, watching the interaction.

“Uh, yeah… I’ve been meaning to tell you guys…” Harry trailed off. He didn’t like the dark look Ron, Hermione and Ginny were already giving him. “I’ve, uh –”

“Oh Harry,” Hermoine cut him off. Her voice was soft yet scolding as if she was speaking to a child. “Why would you do that.”

Harry frowned.

“Those don’t come off. Ever.” Hermione said.

“Why do you even know what they are?” Ron asked, livid.

“Why do you?” Harry snapped back. He didn’t appreciate the feeling of his friends ganging up on him to lecture him about something that he knew a whole lot more than them about. He felt the twins move closer to him, silent and calm, but there.

When Ginny finally spoke up, her face and tone were a mixture of distress and distrust. “Are they left over from him?”

“No. I put them there. I wanted them there,” Harry said. His confidence didn’t waver under their gazes. With a wave of his hand, he finally dried his shirt and spun on his heels. He ignored the angry calls from his friends. He was over having to explain himself and the things he did, especially to the people he cared about.

He just needed a bit of time to cool off.

(The twins ended up floo-calling him that night. They wanted him to know they didn’t think any differently of him. In fact, they just hoped he was safe with it all and, most importantly, happy.

Harry could have cried.)

There had been a short, hushed argument on the train platform.

The train ride to Hogwarts was spent in absolute silence. The golden trio were the only ones occupying the carriage. None of their friends had dared to try to be any form of buffer as the thick tension threatened to strangle everyone.

Harry dragged his feet all the way to the great hall, even stopping to say hello to the thestrals.

He didn’t listen to McGonagall’s welcome speech. It was pointless background drabble that didn’t interest him at all any longer. At least not to start with.

“A lot has happened to everyone in the past few years.”

No shit, Harry thought with a bitter snort.

“To help promote inter-house unity, everyone will be resorted. We assume most people won’t change houses. For those students who do, know that it is not a bad thing, and I except them to be welcomed warmly. We will not tolerate bullying.

“We will start with our first years, as normal. Throughout the week, we will slowly cover the rest of the school. Now, first up…”

Harry went rigid. He did not, under any circumstance, want to talk to that damned hat again in front of everyone. He didn’t want to hear its opinion. He knew he couldn’t win another debate with it. Now, it wasn’t that he was scared of what the hat might find, of what might become – he had come to terms with that months ago. He feared always being watched, scrutinized, and held to a different standard. Except this time, it wouldn’t be because of his so-called destiny – it’d be because of his schoolhouse. Something so trivial.

All he wanted was less from people. He just wanted to exist. If strangers could stop perceiving him, that’d be wonderful.

He couldn’t remember the rest of the welcome feast clearly. Nor most of the following days. He was stuck in a haze, caught between the past and an uncertain future.

The main thing he could vaguely recall was that he shared quite a few classes with Slytherins, and he had even exchanged a silent but civil greeting with Malfoy and his friends.

Friday night rolled around, and Harry’s bones jittered. They, the Gryffindors, were going last. There was only a small number of eighth years, but he had already seen several of them switch houses. In fact, throughout the week, he noticed that Ravenclaw and Slytherin swapped a few students. He was well aware of the largely different reaction that occurred when a new student joined the snake house.

The prejudice didn’t sit well with him. Not anymore.

“Harry Potter,” McGonagall called out.

With a fortifying breath, Harry made his way to the front, ignoring the stares as best as he could. He grimaced when the hat sat on his head.

“Well, hello again.”

“Hi,” Harry said. “Are we going to argue tonight?”

“No child, there is only one choice this time.”

“So why haven’t you announced it yet?” Harry asked, frowning. He blocked out the whispers coming from the crowd, all curious as to what the pair were discussing.

“I merely wanted to wish you well. Things would have been very different had you not at the center of a war.”

“Wait.” Harry hesitated before continuing. “If everything hadn’t of happened, what house would you have put me in in first year?”

He could feel the hat smile and his eyes snapped open in the direction of the Slytherin table, green eyes automatically meeting gray.

“Slytherin!” the hat boomed, effectively silencing the entire hall.

Inhale. Exhale.

Harry’s feet carried him mindlessly to towards his new table as he tried his hardest to ignore the murmurs that broke out across the hall. The tie he had lazily thrown over his shoulders was bled of the gold and red, changing into silver and green. Conveniently, there was a free seat at the end of the table for him to plop down.

Inconveniently, it was next to Pansy Parkinson. Which meant, as he looked up, he was greeted by Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy.

“Well, this is interesting,” Malfoy said. Harry couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.

“Not now, Malfoy, please,” Harry said quietly. He was not willing to look past the two boys in front of him and into the sea of students. At the baffled table of Gryffindors.

Malfoy’s expression changed. It was only a slight difference, but his eyes narrowed – though it wasn’t full of hate like normal, it was a gaze full of curiosity.

And Harry would know. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew he had a staring problem when it came to the blonde.

Left alone at the end of the table, the four of them stayed quiet throughout the rest of dinner. Somehow, it was more companionable than the stifling atmosphere that had clung and suffocated him at the other table.

They stayed seated until majority of the other students had shuffled their way to their dorms. Harry wasn’t stressed about moving anytime soon, and it seemed the other three shared his sentiment. What was confusing was that when he made to leave, so did they. For some reason, Parkinson had taken to walking directly beside Harry while the other two were behind them.

And when Harry stopped just past the threshold of the hall, so did Parkinson, the other two falling into line with them.

“Ah, Gryffindors,” Parkinson mumbled, distaste clear in her voice.

Loitering about in the hallway was none other than Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. The trio were waiting for someone.

But Harry – he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t have that conversation with them just yet. Their almost week of forced proximity did little to change any of their feelings. So, he simply walked past them, speeding up when they realised he had passed by them.

Surprisingly, the other three Slytherins matched his quick pace all the way to the dungeons.

“Uh, thanks?”

Parkinson waved him off, bidding the boy goodnight as she headed off to the girls’ section of the dorms.

Malfoy slowly started to wander off.

“Well, come on,” Zabini said, motioning for Harry to follow them.

Right. He was sharing with them. Totally fine.

Once inside his new room, Harry felt his bones start to rattle again. “Is there a working floo down here?” he asked.

Malfoy raised a brow but pointed at the fireplace that was tucked into the corner of their room, three dingy chairs around it. The blonde then drew the curtains of his bed tightly.

Zabini had collapsed onto his bed as soon as entering the room, curtains closed, and a silencing charm muttered.

Harry felt himself relax a bit. He rummaged through his trunk before kneeling in front of the fireplace. He knew without a doubt that the person he was calling would still be awake,

“Fred Weasley.”

Part 2

[st4rbwrry]

can u describe how u envision eren in full detail? reading ur answer to the other ask has me curious 🤭

okay here we go! ima go into depths about how i see him in my head + how he is in all the fics i write for him. firstly, i always always say that vinnie hacker reminds me of eren a lot and idk why. i think it’s mostly his face structure and hair. eren, to me in my head has black hair. like jet black. i usually just say his hair is brown in my fics bc then ppl will be coming to me saying ‘but his hair isn’t black it’s brown’ like duh ik that. dropping photo references bc i’m constructing a collage for him still.

so, based off hair looks: jet black with some curls. usually does still style it in his usual bun with the two strands in front. hair isn’t super curly, he has little ringlets. or he just wears it straight down.

as far as tattoos go, eren in fact has a LOT of tats. he has a full sleeve on his right arm. a tat across his neck that says ‘bite me’ which is my favorite <3. a few on his abdomen, chest, hips etc. piercings as well which include a diamond stud on his right ear and on the right side of his nose. he plans on getting more :)

body type is somewhat of how he is in the anime but slightly bulkier. i like how he looks in season 4 a lot lmao. also he’s 6’6 !

bonus; eren’s style. obviously he wears mostly neutral toned colors. black and gray are his favorites tho. he’s very casual. wears a lot of skinny jeans, sweatpants, or cargos. likes plain tees a lot, tends to throw leather or varsity jackets etc over them. spruces up his look with graphic tees if he can find vintage ones at a thrift store. bands & nascar for the win! sneaker head so he always has something new in that closet! loves the 550 new balances or low dunks + skater vans. wears a lot of necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings. sometimes watches if there’s a special occasion like a date or whatever. likes bandanas cs he thinks they make him look badass. will toss on a beanie or snapback randomly. hoodie lover.

extra bonus: the car he drives is a black nissan r34 gtr. his favorite hobbies + things to do are going for long drives, skateboarding, listening to music, cooking breakfast as a love language, cuddles, forehead kisses reciprocated, giving love bites, holding hands, fixing cars, playing his guitar, playing football, drawing cartoon characters 90s style, collecting vinyls, thrifting, eating, gun range cs he thinks he’s in a video game when a weapon is in his possession, chewing gum, being cocky, petting saturn, getting up early to exercise, maintaining a healthy diet when he’s in a good mood but is quick to order take out or boil a pack of ramen, horror movies, kissing, having sex lmao, hygienic … and lots more :)

[serene-sun]

Pairing: nameless ghouls x gn reader

Summary: really just a self insert because I need some ghoul fluff, but who doesn’t? Nothing specific, kinda covered everything lol.

Warning: slight depressing episode w/ comfort? Small ed if you squint very very hard

“May we come in?” A few of your favorite voices asked softly from behind the spruce door ahead of the dark room.

You lurk under the fluffy safety of many blankets and pillows, accompanying by some special stuffies papa and the ghouls picked out for you.

You groan, not really wanting the few ghouls to come in, but neither wanting them to leave. But these ghouls understand you in ways others couldn’t.

When things got to loud, and your chest started to squeeze, when your lungs burned for more air, the ghoulettes were there to calm you down. Patting your back, rubbing circles and occasionally using their sharp but dull nails to scratch it soothingly.

It was times when there were simply too many people in the room that the air got thick and it felt like everyone was staring directly at you, judging, laughing, and mocking as people stared. Although nobody really was, your throat closed and it was hard to speak, usually just mumbles and whimpers leaving as you felt limp at the embarrassment of just existing in public. But of course, aether and mountain were always there to block out the crowd of people, their eyes, and the echoing noise they emitted.

Rain had always sensed your unwell mood when you “forgot” to eat again, breakfast lunch and dinner was just a waste of time and patients you didn’t have.

“Maybe just try to eat these?” He would always bring you a small glass of water, or your favorite juice, with a small pack of crackers or a little treat the siblings made for holidays. Rain knew it was hard, not everything was easy as it is said, nevertheless the ghouls themselves have these times too.

Dewdrop and Swiss were a little energetic but they helped so much. Their moods in general and the way they talked but brought you peace. Dewdrops warmth would send you asleep fast. Dozing off into his arms, most of the time on accident. And Swiss was just Swiss, his humor, laugh and smile was enough to cheer you up in seconds. You loved racking your fingers through dews longs flowing hair, and when Swiss would accompany you. You would play with his dark curls and trace over his hands.

So knowing that either way the ghouls could sense your unsettling feelings or not, they would always be knocking on the door for some sort of cat like activity.

When the door slowly creaks open, a small candle light blinds you as you realize how dark your cold cavern of a room is. Judging by dewdrops shiver and even mountain disapproving of the dark room, they came closer to your bed.

For a moment you thought they couldn’t see your immobile form under so many blankets and pillows.

Cirrus and cumulus huff, crossing their arms, looking at the mirror and window covered with thin sheets.

“Darling…why didn’t you tell us you were going through it again? Speak to us.” She sighs, coming to sit on the bed. Patting your thigh through the layers she adds, “alright, let’s make a deal.”

You peak at the ghoulette from under the dark navy’s blue comforter in a bargain.

“Cumulus and I draw you a nice warm bath while the others get you a real meal, glass of cold water and some refreshing tea. Then, we cuddle until papa scolds us for being lazy cats!” She says, playfully hitting your leg, signaling for your answer.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, voice so dry and faded from keeping quiet all night and day.

“Oh dear, don’t even think about apologizing.” Aether says, cupping your cheek as you sit up.

The other ghouls nod and agree, they step out as the ghoulettes enter the bathroom connected to your, still dark, room.

You can feel that the ghouls know what’s bothering you, but still, they will ask.

“My dear, your so beautiful and kind. Your not a burden and don’t even think about comparing yourself to anyone.” Cumulus tells you, a soft smile against your cheek as she hugs you close, combing out the little tangles in your soaked hair in the bath.

It’s like they can read your mind, because she doesn’t bother to ask the questions she has the answer too.

“Who cares what those bastards think or say.” Cirrus puffs, laying out your favorite (Aether’s) sweatshirt and a pair of (dewdrops) fuzzy socks since he gets so cold easily.

You close your eyes, falling deeper into the warm herbal bath as you peak through the door to see mountain fixing the bed. Ridding of any dirty clothes and fixing new sheets and pillow cases.

As you leave the bathroom, cozy in what is definitely your own clothing, you are surprised to see the ghouls had actually gotten you a full meal that’s not a few grapes or a small glass of water and mint gum.

You feel so very fortunate to have such companions and understood how hard it was for you to do certain things. Looking at the small bit medium sized bowl of your favorite soup, you looked back up at the happy twitching ghouls waiting for your judgment.

“Thank you” you blurt, a sniffle as you try not to feel any major feeling at the moment.

After a few bites, you crawl into the newly fixed bed, the ghouls instantly swarming you with hugs and kisses.

Dewdrop has already turn the heated blanket onto high. Swiss had already fallen asleep into your chest. Aether and mountain purring into your warming form as rain playing with the fur on dewdrops tail, drifting off at the positive emotions coming from the snuffle pile. You felt yourself drifting off as the warm meal settles inside your stomach warming you from the inside out, not to mention the ghoulettes curled, braiding and messing with your washed hair.

It was nice to have the cold anxiety replaced with warm open hearted love and understanding. Although it foggy from being so sleepy, you think papa slipped in the cracked door to see why the ministry was so unusually quiet. All you can remember is a sweet smile and a small chuckle in Italian before closing the door softly.

*A/N

My masterlist needs to be updated and I need to start a habit of tagging it for a certain area, so make ignore the first tag lol.

All reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! Requests are open here

[milky-fixx]

ornament

chrollo lucilfer x reader // hunter x hunter // fluff // 1.1k+ words

not me forgetting i had a whole christmas fic for this man. oops. a spruced up repost.

Chrollo has a thief's eye. Wherever he looks is calculated, measured—as if he’s mapping out the quickest escape route, or a clever move to gain the upper hand. His gaze is always shrewd, attuned to endless possibilities. 

Which is perhaps why he catches your shift in mood so quickly.

The two of you are strolling down the main street. Now that the hustle and bustle of Christmas has ended, and people no longer crowd the streets, you brought up the idea of venturing into the nicer part of town to admire the lavishly decorated streets.  

While conversation flows easy between you two, as if often does, your voice dies down once you spot something. Chrollo pauses as well, noticing your attention has been caught by something else: a small, decorative Christmas tree perched in the window of a store, which you stare at with something akin to discontent.

“What’s wrong? Is it not to your liking?”

“Ah.” You're startle; you weren’t expecting him to notice. (How quaint. It's almost as if you don't know him—once he finds something that catches his eye, he wants to study every inch of it.) “I was just thinking. I-It’s nothing.” You wave your hand dismissively. His curiosity piques. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” he says, his voice a saccharine concoction you could spend your entire life indulging in. And you have spent hours getting lost in it, listening to the syllables rolling off his tongue like caramel, sometimes in languages you couldn't hope to understand, yet just as entrancing. You suppose that’s what attracts others to the Phantom Troupe—their leader's subtle yet undeniable charisma, his manner of speaking and carrying himself that entices one's attention long before they realize they've fallen into his web.

Including you.

“People like to... decorate things,” you finally say, working past your trepidation. “They like putting ornaments on trees.”

“Mmhmm."

“Well...” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, needing something to ground yourself. “Ornaments have no practical purpose, though. They’re just there to make things look pretty, right?”

“Hmm, yes. That is their function.” You’ve definitely roused his interest now. He draws closer to your side, his eyes bright with curiosity. The way other people’s minds worked has always amused Chrollo; this isn’t the first intriguing question you’ve asked him. He once told you that’s what drew him to you. 

We both have an insatiable curiosity for the secrets of the world, he said. 

(You wonder, however, in the back of your mind, if this is a Pandora’s box you should leave closed. To open it might change things irrevocably.)

“It just makes me wonder... if... you know, between us... if I’m just--is that all I am to you?” You release the last few words in a rush, with the air of someone voicing something into existence that not even they want to acknowledge.

And it’s true. You feel ashamed that these worries plague you. Chrollo is polite, pleasant, the picture of a good boyfriend. 

But that’s the thing. Perfection is sometimes a curse in itself. He’s too perfect. Uneasily so. Too kind. You can’t help but fiddle with the ribbon neatly binding your relationship, wondering what would happen if you pulled the edges apart. What kind of surprise would you find waiting for you?

“Are you making some strange connection between yourself and a Christmas decoration?” Amusement rings heavy in his tone, and it flusters you further. 

You know that he’s a renowned thief. What possible interest does he have in you? What connections could he gleam from you, a mere civilian?

What if you really are just a pretty, silly thing for him to have on his arm? An alibi, a cover-up?

Chrollo, noting your discomfort, breaks the silence.

“Well...” he says, his tone rich with delight. “You’re forgetting something, dear. Ornaments may have no practical purpose, yes, but they add immeasurable value to a tree. Even the smallest ones.”

“You could say the same thing about a blank canvas,” he continues. “It has no value until an artist paints on it. Then it can sell for millions. Or rather, be coveted by just as many.”

You catch his gaze in the mirror, gleaming with intrigue.

“So, while you are pretty...” he says, using your words from earlier, enjoying the way the compliment visibly flusters you. Reaching out, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek. “I would argue that you do have value, if that’s what you’re concerned about."

He’s so smooth. It’s like he knows exactly what to say to ease any worries away, regardless of how silly or foolish you think they are.

Almost like he can read into you too well. 

You try and think of a response to him, you really do. Your mouth opens with a retort before closing once you realize its futility. Nothing you say could even think of topping that. It’s like he leaves no room for doubt in any conversation.

“Oh... well. That's... good?" you say lamely, all too aware of just how in-eloquent your response is compared to his.

He takes the hint, sparing you further embarassment.

“I take it you won’t want to bring back a discounted Christmas tree, however?” His tone is conversational. He's always good at turning the tides of conversation his way.

You wrinkle your nose. “No thanks. It’s a lot of work.”

“Yes... I don’t believe any of the Troupe has the patience to decorate it.” He chuckles. “Not entirely practical, either, if we’re using your terms.”

"No. It really isn't."

He tilts his head. "Of course, if you really wanted a tree, I suppose... I have my own pretty thing to decorate with, right here,” he says, squeezing your shoulder, drawing you close to him. You stiffen at the unexpected gesture.

His eyes shine with mirth, a rare, playful side to him. One that only you’ve seen. “Maybe you can be the topping to my tree. You’d probably outshine every other decoration.”

“Chrollo!” you hiss, feeling your face grow hot. You know he’s only doing this because you’re out in public, and he knows very well of your bashfulness with public displays of affection. It’s why he only pulls them out to ruffle you.

“What’s wrong? You wanted me to humor you at first, but now it looks like you can’t wait to get away from me.” He flashes you an innocent, wide-eyed look, one that you know entirely masks his sadistic streak.

He spends the rest of the day making quips about trees, and you being the star of his. Enjoying every second of your chagrin. Eventually, his musings are loud enough to attract the attention of a tree seller, who decides a couple “so young and in love” like the two you of you should get your own tree, free of charge.

“Well now,” Chrollo glances between you and the tree. “I suppose we can make your dreams a reality—”

“Please no.”

The eyes of a thief he may have. But coupled with the mouth and unrelenting wit of a sadist? A deadly combination that only Chrollo Lucilfer could encompass.

[dancingtotuyo]

Buy me Books and Call me Pretty (Joel Miller)

Part 3 of Build You the World Joel X Reader Rating: PG-13 (language and some sexual content) Warnings: some sexual references, lots of fluff Tags: pre outbreak/no outbreak, fluff, craftsman!joel, 90s references and thriving, were in 1997 folks! Words: 3000

Series Master List | Author Master list

You were gone for the week, a work trip to Dallas extended for a coworker’s bachelorette party. The first time Joel was home alone with both kids for more than a night. The first time you’d left Asher for more than a weekend. And that nook needed sprucing. 

Joel had been planning it for years if he was being honest. You’d made the best you could out of it. Mismatched shelves from the thrift store, a large chair to curl up in, your paperbacks stacked and meticulously piled in overflow, your collection had outgrown the current capacity.

Joel spotted you in the corner, untouched cocktail in front of you, staring at your pager. He’d left Sarah at home with a babysitter and taken a night for himself. Picking his beer up off the bar, he walked straight toward you.

Okay, it needed more than sprucing. It needed a complete makeover. Joel had settled on the design the night before you left, the sketches filling his notebook for weeks. 

He’d almost filled the notebook you gave him with woodworking projects. The finalized project rested just a few pages from the back. 

When you first brought up this trip, he’d known this was his chance to surprise you. He’d wanted to do it since you moved in. 

“What’s a guy gotta do to be worth your time, Darlin?”

You looked almost startled to find him at the end of your table. You sized him up. Dark curly hair, big brown eyes, and the kind of ruggedness one only gets from working outside with their hands.

You glanced back down at your pager and things didn’t feel so bad anymore. Wherever this guy was, he obviously wasn’t worth your time anymore. You grinned, pager and late date forgotten. 

“Buy me books and call me pretty.” 

Joel grabbed a cardboard box and a pile of books. Best to get started while Asher was asleep and Sarah distracted. Operation Book Nook was ago. 

Taking care of two children by oneself was a difficult thing. Taking care of a curious 8-year-old and a rambunctious 2-year-old in a partial construction zone was damn near impossible. Joel estimated he was at least a day behind where he needed to be if not more. Friday it hit him, the hope of having the nook completely finished before you got home was beginning to look like a pipe dream. You were due back on Sunday afternoon. He’d just finished installing everything. There were some areas that needed a little more sanding and the whole thing needed to be stained with at least 2 coats. The stain needed to dry for at least a day before, preferably 3, before he put any books on it, preferably longer. It would probably put a damper on his grand gesture if he ruined your books in the process. There was still the matter of the project on the final page of his notebook.

The kids missed you. It was affecting their moods. Sarah had been mopey since Thursday. Asher had been downright inconsolable, attached to Joel at the hip, quite literally insisting to be held every waking moment. Asher had cried at daycare all-day Thursday. Joel had picked him up early. Joel canceled his job this morning and elected to keep him home at the very strong suggestion of the workers. He’d tucked both children into your shared bed tonight. 

Hell, he missed you too. He wanted to call you up and cry, but he didn’t. You’d called every night. Every night he told you they were doing fine, they missed you, have fun.

“Ever played pool?” Joel’s thigh brushed yours in the booth. He was close enough you could smell him: sawdust and dirt. It was intoxicating on its own. 

“I’m not very good.”

He squeezed your thigh. “Then I’ll have to teach you.”

Joel eyed the phone. He hadn’t talked to you without the kids since Tuesday. It was almost 11. You were probably out with the girls celebrating. It wouldn’t hurt to call your hotel room all the same. 

Joel set his tools down, walking over to the landline. The front desk transferred him to your room. It rang a few times and Joel was sure you weren’t there. 

You weren’t kidding when you told Joel you were bad at pool. It was embarrassing how bad you were, and you could see it on his face too. All you could do was laugh. 

“I warned you.”

“I don’t think “not very good” covered it, Darlin.”

You fought the shivers from his deep drawl. You stepped into his space. “Then I guess you have a lot to teach me.”

His hands settled on your lower back, pulling you close. “With pleasure.”

“Hello?” You sounded like you’d been sleeping.

“You picked up.” Joel sounded surprised. 

Your laugh crackled through the phone line. “I did, baby. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to hear your voice is all.”

“Two long distances calls in one day.” You smiled. “I miss you too.”

“You having fun?”

“I suppose. Melissa got us kicked out of the bar before 10. She’s plastered. Glad I splurged for my own room is all I can say.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” You stifled a yawn. 

“Liar.” Joel grinned, he rested his back against the wall. 

You rolled your eyes, settling back in bed. “It’s good to hear your voice too.”

“Got big plans for tomorrow?” 

“I’m sure they’ve got something planned. I don’t know if I can keep up with them anymore.” You laugh. “Apparently having two kids turns you into an old woman.”

Joel felt that familiar tug on his heart he did every time you mentioned your kids. Not singular, plural. The same one he felt every time Sarah called you mom.One would think it would go away over time, but it hadn’t. “We’ll be old together then.”

“That reminds me, we’ve got to plan your 30th birthday party.” 

Joel groaned. “Just you and me and the kids, baby. That’s all I need.”

“No Tommy?” You teased. 

“Maybe I’ll kidnap you away for the weekend. Go to the beach or somethin. Just the two of us.”

Joel’s lips dipped to your ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

Just that question had your thighs squeezing. “Yeah.”

Threading his fingers through yours, he pulled you out of the bar.  

“Just the two of us, huh?” You sighed, imagining the warm sun on your face and Joel’s tanned abdomen. “Sounds nice.”

“We could-” Joel stopped, the small thud of little feet on the stairs meeting his ears. 

“We could what?”

He glanced around the corner. Asher took the stairs one by one. A hand clutched the banister above his head, the other his blanket. His dark hair was tousled from sleep, much in the same way Joel’s did. He looked barely away. 

“I’ve got to go babe. One of our monsters woke up.”

You stretched out in the bed. You’d been excited to have a bed to yourself for this trip, but you were missing Joel’s too-hot body heat next to you. “Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too. Sleep good.”

“You too.” 

Joel hung up. Asher’s feet had just hit the bottom step when Joel scooped him up. “You’re supposed to be asleep, little mister.”

Asher nuzzled into his neck as Joel rubbed his back ascending the stairs. “Woke up.”

“I see that.” Joel chuckled, kissing his cheek. He was certain his son would be asleep in a few minutes. 

You parked your car in front of the house. Set in the suburbs, it looked cozy and not at all what you expected from the bachelor you’d followed here. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure what you expected. It looked almost domestic. Panic coursed through your bones. He wasn’t married, right? There’d been no ring, no tan line. 

Joel tapped on the hood of your car before pulling up the driver’s side.You stepped out and his hands were instantly around your waist. He pressed you between his body and your sedan adding kindling to the simmering embers in your blood. He kissed you long and slow, nothing like any one night stand before. Those were usually about taking what you needed from the other person. This felt like giving. 

Joel pulled back, thumb rubbing your side softly. “So, full- disclosure.” Joel looked nervous. Your chest tightened. “I have a daughter. She’s 3 and I have to go pay the babysitter before I carry you upstairs.”

“Oh- No wife though?”

Joel chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice sinfully low. “No wife, fiance, girlfriend.” His hand crept up your sternum, cupping your breast. “Just you, baby.” 

You would’ve fucked him right there against your car for the whole neighborhood to see shamelessly. 

He gave you a surprisingly chaste kissing before pulling away. “You can wait out here for the babysitter to see you, or you can wait in the garage.” He winked backing up the paved driveway. 

You laughed, locking your car and following him into the garage. 

“This’ll only take a minute.” He disappeared inside. 

You immediately took the opportunity to snoop around. It reminded you of your dad’s garage, tools on the wall, more no doubt filling the industrial tool boxes, messy work benches covered in sawdust, a table saw. You knew he was a contractor who did new build construction, sometimes just the framing, sometimes until the house was completely depending on the project. You wondered what he worked on here. 

The door collecting the house to the garage popped open. You hardly got a glimpse of Joel before he pulled you inside. Your back hit the door. His lips attacked yours. You cupped his face, willing him to never pull away. His tongue slid across your bottom lip. His hand crept around the back of your thigh, fingers squeezing and spreading. Desire hazed over your senses as you hooked your leg around his waist.

He pulled back and you wanted to scream. He winked at you, shut off the lights, and then picked you up, putting you over his shoulder. You yelped before slamming a hand over your mouth. It would do no good to wake up his kid. Joel laughed. “Let me get you behind closed doors before you start that now.”

Sarah was curled up in the comforter on your side of the bed. It swallowed her, the satin of her bonnet peeking up was the only cue she was actually in the bed. Joel laid down, settling Asher in beside him. 

He let out a sigh of relief as the bed began to release the pressure on his tight back. His eyes grew heavy. Asher tucked into his side. He could rest his eyes for a few minutes. 

Your heart rate was just returning to normal. Joel had tugged you back into bed before you could do the awkward shuffle of searching for your clothes and waiting for him to invite you to stay. Your limbs tangled together. He pressed kisses across your shoulder blades. “Sarah wakes up pretty early, so I’ll probably have to sneak you out of the house…” He kissed your neck, right under your ear. “But I want you to stay.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You ignored that. Now wasn’t the time to analyze it. You sighed as his fingers raised goose bumps up your side. “Your bed is softer than mine.” You nuzzled into the pillow. Your eyes felt like rocks and your limbs like noodles.

Joel chuckled. He pulled the comforter over the two of you. “Happy to hear that, darlin.” He kissed your cheek. It all felt so domestic. 

“Daddy?”

“Shit.” Joel cursed under his breath. The comforter fell over your head. “Sarah, what are you doing up?”

“I had a bad dream.”

There was a thud. Did Joel fall out of bed? You pictured him on the floor, scrambling for his boxers and fought back a laugh. 

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” Their voices drifted until you heard the click of a door. You stayed under the comforter to be sure, biting your fist to control your laughter. 

You knew when Joel’s bedroom door shut. The lock clicked into place this time. You let your giggles free. He pulled the comforter back. “So you think this is funny?” You heard the amusement in his tone.

“Did you fall out of bed?” The comforter shook with your laughter. 

He ripped the comforter off, making you gasp. “Joel, it’s cold!”

He crawled on top of you. “Don’t worry. I plan on warming you right up.”

Joel sighed wearily as he opened another can of wood stain. Last night’s brief eye rest had turned into a full 8 hours of sleep. Joel had woken up to the sun warm on his back, Asher’s foot in his face, and Sarah’s soccer game in 30 minutes.  

He’d started staining this evening, opting to get his other project finished. The wooden cube sat on his nightstand, complete. You’d bought a wood burning kit a year or so ago, burning designs into his scrap wood. You’d started selling sets of coasters to a small shop in Austin. He’d saved one of your first test pieces. It had your initials and anniversary date burned into it. You’d tossed it out. He’d fished it out, making plans to use it in a future project.  

He’d just finished the first coat of stain. Since he’d bitten off more than he could chew with this project, the first area he’d stained was ready for its second coat. 

Whether it was the monotony of his task or the hum of the radio, Joel didn’t hear you come in. You set your suitcase down in the kitchen, the music and light form the living room drawing you in like gnats to a porch light. You’d planned on covering his eyes or jumping on his back to surprise him with your early arrival until you saw what he was working on. 

Built-in, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the far wall, wrapping into the nook you’d turned into your reading area. The bottom half of the shelves were turned into cabinets for other storage. You couldn’t wait to relocate the stack of games out of the coat closet. 

 “Oh my god.”

Joel whipped around. He wore his ratty old painting t-shirt and a pair of work jeans, but you were sure he’d never been more attractive. 

“What are you doing home, Darlin?” He set the can of stain and his paintbrush down. “You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.”

“I missed my family.” You smiled.

Joel pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It felt like forever since you’d been with him. It hit you. This had been the longest you’d gone without seeing him since you’d made things official.  

“I missed you too, baby.” He smiled at you cupping your cheeks like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

“You gonna kiss me or not, Miller?” 

He laughed, obliging your request. You pulled him close. The 6 days you were gone felt like a lifetime as you pulled him closer.

When he pulled back, it was too soon. You started to pout until the bookshelves caught your eye again. “You did this?”

“It’s not finished. I thought I could get it all done before you got back.” 

“Baby, it’s gorgeous.” 

Joel’s craftsmanship had improved exponentially over the last couple years. He’d always been good, but as he leaned into the craft, his skill had grown. 

You reached out to run your hand across the shelf. Joel stopped you. “Unless you want wood stain on your fingers.” He held up his hand for show. “I’d wait.” 

You laughed, giddy as you kissed him again. “I love it, and I love you.”

“Only because I buy you books and call you pretty, right?”

“And build me bookshelves.”

Joel kissed you, not planning to stop until he remembered. His heart rate rose as nerves filled him. “There’s one more surprise.”

“What?”

“Stay right here.” He said. He rushed out leaving you there. 

You started to wonder what he was up to, but were quickly side tracked by your new bookshelves. The more you looked at them, the more you loved them. He’d added the detailing you loved, the same one on the nightstands he’d built you for your birthday and the living room coffee table. 

Joel’s arm wrapped around your midsection. His warm breath tickled your ear. You leaned into him. “You moved.”

“I’m still in the same vicinity. I had to check out your handiwork.” 

Joel smiled. “Here.”

A small wooden box appeared before you. “What is it?” 

“You gotta open it, Darlin.”

Grabbing the box, you faced him. “You made this too?” A smile crept onto your face.

“I made the box.” 

The world felt like it stopped while he waited for you to open it. It felt like you knew like you were just teasing him, making him sweat it out. When you finally opened it, your eyes went wide. A gold band with 3 glistening diamonds, a modest-sized center stone with two smaller ones on either side, sat in the box, not that you could really make that out through your tears. 

Joel was already on his knee when you looked back at him. He smiled, taking your hand. “Joel Miller, what are you doing?” It was a stupid question. You knew what was happening.

“I’m making an honest woman out of you.” He grinned and you laughed. “You know I’m not good with words, darlin. I planned to be dressed a little nicer than this too. But I love you. I love our life together. I love our kids, and I think it’s time we all share a last name… Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

And before Joel could get off his knee, you were on yours, kissing the living daylights out of him.

[otakugurl-11037]

Who Let Vampires Run Rock n' Roll?! Female!Y/NxVampire Rockstar.

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Before you read, there's biting, mentions of blood, ghosts, and other spooky things. There is also a mention of smashing, but it's nothing too serious. Happy reading!

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2,000+ words.

Will be in multiple parts!!

Random question, but do you believe that the Ship of Theseus, if taken apart and replaced with the same parts, will it still be the same ship?

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“You got front-row tickets?!”

My friend, Mai, had practically squealed at me over the phone. She and I were obsessed with this indie alt-rock band we discovered called Crimson Nocturne and they just happened to have a concert just five minutes away from where I lived.

I managed to snag a good ticket since I had saved up my coupons over the years. I ended up knocking the price down from $150 to a mellow $45. Thank goodness I picked up the habit of mindlessly clipping coupons that I may or may not use.

“Aw man, I’m so jealous,” Mai continued. “I wanna go, but this work is horrrrible!! It just feels like it never ends, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I’m sorry you gotta do all that. I’ll be sure to send you some videos of the concert, okay?

“Okay,” she said, seemingly put into a better mood. “Oh, and lemme know if Lucien notices you! He’s been on a little streak with taking notice of the front-row fellas!”

While she giggles over the phone, I think of Lucien--the lead of the band. He’s the one who started it all, with his lyrical genius and creativity. He found his group rather quickly after showing off his skills during an impromptu talent show.

“I don’t think he’ll notice ME, though,” I say with a half-chuckle. “I’m not even wearing any of the band’s merch.”

“Daww, never say never! I bet that he’ll swing you around in his arms like lovers!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her silly statement.

“No, he won’t,” I say through giggles.

“He could drop everything and LEAP toward you, haha!”

Her and I share a hearty laugh for a good minute--man, she is the best friend I could ever ask for.

“Oh, shoot-”

“What, what’s the matter,” I ask, ceasing our laughter.

“I gotta go, I’m already 5 minutes late to this meeting I’m supposed to be in. See you!”

“Okay, see you later!”

She hung up and I put my phone in my jean pocket. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, doing a mental checklist of everything on my person.

Phone, check.

Wallet, check.

Car keys and regular keys, check.

Super cool Hello Kitty hairpin I found in the clearance aisle, check.

I adjust my hairpin before heading to the door, ready to go to my first-ever Crimson Nocturne concert.

•••

After going through a labyrinth and back to find parking, I approach the venue, which is a restored theater that was abandoned in the 30s until a company picked it back up. Before that band came to town, I figured that the restoration was a waste of money; nobody wanted to go inside because rumors were spread about it being haunted. I must admit that they did a wonderful job of sprucing up the place.

The neon lights and plants surrounding the large building breathed life and excellence in a way that nobody from the 30s could imagine. The plants, along with the lights, had every hue of color you could imagine. It’s as if you let a rainbow take hold of a coloring book.

I enter the building, which has the complete opposite vibe from the outside. I figure that it’s to fit the theme of who’s performing here. Beyond the long line of people who are practically hopping up and down for Crimson Nocturne’s future performance, there’s checkered flooring, fake blood oozing from the walls(or at least I HOPE it’s fake), toy bats hanging upside down from the ceiling, fake cobwebs, skeletons with glowing eyes, and posters of each of the band members.

Everyone except Lucien is wearing masks--either to conceal their identity or for an artistic reason. One thing about Crimson Nocturne is that they’ve always been particular about their works, nothing happens without a reason. Each mask has a marking on it--Lysander, the drummer, has a skull marked on his mask, Alexzander, the bassist, has a pentagram marked on it, and Alistair, the guitarist, has a single heart mark. Me and Mai have come up with theories as to what those mask markings could mean, but they were 3 am ramblings--we would always wake up the next morning to find out just how stupid those theories were and trash them.

Lucien, however, is another story. He has shaggy black hair, heavy eyeliner, red eye contacts, and he always wears a dark leather suit with combat boots that could eliminate military-grade bugs. Often, I’d notice him with fang caps over his canines or red eye contacts. Perhaps this is his way of standing out from the others.

I move up in the line, equally excited for this concert.

“Aaaah, oh my gosh, I can’t wait to see them,” a girl gushes behind me.

“Dude, this is my second concert with them! The whole band signed my poster last time I came,” a guy recalled.

“Is it bad that I would smash all of them, at the same time,” another girl said before being interrupted by a series of WHAT coming from what I assume are her friends. I didn’t join in, but it did make me turn my head in dumbfoundedness at how boldly she said such an outrageous thing.

I never found them THAT attractive since the majority of them are wearing masks. I could see myself getting with Lucien, but hardly. He’s way beyond my league.

The guy in front of me practically ran to the concert stage, revealing the ticket clerk. I walk forward and grab my phone from my back pocket, showing him my digital ticket. He puts his barcode scanner over it, lets it ding, and then hands me a complimentary keychain of chibi Alistair aggressively hugging a teddy bear, in which the poor thing’s eyes are popping out. Must be an intense hug.

“Enjoy the show, miss,” the clerk said.

Before my brain could let me utter a misplaced ‘you too,’ I said,

“Thank you!” Skipping over to the concert hall, I pocket both my phone and my new keychain. 

I make it to my front row seat, dodging some of the other onlookers. It is mind-numbingly cold in this large auditorium. Somehow, the AC unit could freeze an area that can house well over 3,000 people. The cold strategically attacked my weak points--my arms, hands, face, and the front of my neck. I internally regret not wearing my turtleneck sweater. 

Then the lights dimmed. People’s chatter descended into soft murmurs, the air got warmer, and a sense of nervousness loomed over our shoulders like a ghost was truly haunting this building.

What have I gotten myself into?

I’m too deep into this to leave, so I lean away from the back of my seat, bringing my forearms to my thighs. I probably looked like a wannabe CEO pulling that pose, but I didn’t care. It helped keep the nervous feeling at bay.

A single guitar riff played, breaking the crowd’s silence and replacing it with cheers and rambunctiousness. I sat up almost immediately with the sudden shift in energy. Then they crescendoed into a whole melody while the curtains lifted to reveal the band in all their glory, red light showering them all.

“Haaah, how are we doing tonight,” Lucien asked, his fake fangs on full display. 

The crowd cheered and Lucien feigned surprise.

“Wow, you guys must be doing great, huh? Haha, I appreciate all of you lovely little darklings coming out to see us tonight. It warms my heart knowing that you all could take me from down here, to up HERE.”

He brought his arm from the floor, kneeling down, to high up as he spoke. Everybody cheered again, happy to know that we’ve supported him well.

“But I digress,” Lucien continued, playing with the cord of his microphone. “We gotta show to put on, and I can’t have my friends just play this melody without me singing anything, right?”

The crowd hollered once more while I wooed, my voice surely being drowned out by the near-full house.

With that, he took off, his singing voice miles away from his talking voice. Hearing his voice on streaming is one thing, but actually hearing it live is another. His haunting voice and equally dark lyrics just seemed to entrance me. He wove a web of notes and like the fly I--and others-- are, we flew in, trapped in the spider’s grip. His voice is so mellow, yet rough around the edges, it’s perfect. 

Before I knew it, the song ended and the crowd’s uproar snapped me out of my trance. I woo along with them, looking at Lucien’s little smirk he had. He grabbed the mic once again.

“Up next is your favorite,” he said, dragging out the last word as if he wanted to tease us.

A familiar melody plays, and the crowd is sent back into an uproar. ‘Little Miss Wild Øne’ is one of the best songs they have ever conceived, and for good reason. It’s a deep, yet sensual song that somehow gives you that positive shiver down your spine.

Oh crap, I forgot to record this for Mai!

After fumbling with my phone, I reach the camera app and…accidentally take a picture. I quickly switch it to video and start recording, focusing on Lucien. As soon as I start recording, he starts singing.

“Ohhhh, how you are filled with sin, you feel like you cannot win, let it run through like a riiiver, and with that I shall deliver…”

The music pauses only to resume with Lucien screeching the word “evil.” With how intense that scream is, I could’ve dropped my phone. His diaphragm is also impressive, with how long he’s holding that one word. While screeching. 

Ohh, Mia’s gonna LOVE this…

Lucien stops with his screeching, allowing for his bandmates to continue playing their intense tune. He then turns his head towards my camera and does the unthinkable.

He winked. He freaking winked at the camera!!

A buzz goes through my body, having experienced such attention. How does something so small do something so grand to me? If it weren’t for the fact that this is a public space, I would’ve kicked my feet and giggled aloud. 

Ah wait, it probably wasn’t directed towards me….yes it was. I’m the only person in my row and column recording him right now.

He approached me from the stage, kneeling to extend his hand out. A smile was on his face, once again, showing off his teeth.

My heart was nearing the edge of bursting out of my chest, but I brought my hand closer to his, thinking that he was offering a high-five.

Nope.

He pulled me onto the stage, holding me with one arm. He held his microphone with his free arm as he leaned in to sing once again.

“Mm, ooh, baby, must you hurt me so? Nobody’s born clean, I’ve told you so,”

I just knew that I was sweating bullets. Being on stage, you become painfully aware of how many people are there, their full attention on you and you alone. Somehow, being so close to Lucien made me more nervous. Yet at ease at the same time, with how much confidence he’s exuding. 

I quietly sang along, so I wouldn’t feel like a sitting duck next to the Lucien.

“Raaah, why are you so scared? You knew what you signed up for, don’t act like you cannot comprehend. We’re only sinners after aaaaall… But don’t you worry dear, tonight I have something special for you, it’s coming near, it’s… HERESY!”

I can’t scream along with him. I’ve tried it before and my voice broke, like it literally broke. I had to talk to people with a text-to-speech tablet for about a week. While he’s holding out the word, I look around the crowd, they’re full of hype and energy. Of the likes I couldn’t imagine. If humanity is good at one thing, they’re good at filling a room with life--especially when this venue has been close to death. 

“Ooooohh…..” 

Lucien closes out while the rest of the band goes into a slow decrescendo. I figure that around this time, Lucien would let me down but he had other plans.

He tapped my shoulder and I looked up at him. He brought his hand over my ear to whisper.

“Darling Darkling,” Lucien murmured. “I’m parched, may I have a drink, please?”

I looked at him a bit puzzled. I didn’t bring a water bottle or anything(I should really start doing that) so I’m not sure what he meant. I nodded.

“Sure, go ahead,” I whispered back.

He smiled, showing off those fangs again.

“Thanks.”

He leaned in, and I learned that those fake fangs were in fact, real. He bit down on the side of my neck and the whole crowd went insane. My eyes were wide, the heat coming to my face and ears were palpable. I should’ve ran away, but I stayed. Leaned into the bite, accepted this sin he brought to the table. He drank for a long time before letting me go, seeing me stumble a little bit on my own.

As if I came back to my senses, I quickly ran off-stage and back to my seat. Staring into my eyes with dilated pupils, he wiped off the excess blood and grabbed the mic again.

“Thanks for that, sweetheart.” 

His tone completely changed, he spoke as if he was flirting with me. Which also made the crowd explode. I was in for a long night…

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You made it to the end, hooray! Part 2 will come out sometime, on someday. Have a nice rest of your day/evening!

[maracujatangerine]

79. The butler didn’t do it - part 2

CW: pet whump, animal death

Lydia leafed through page after page, pen in hand, marking out passages to be revised and spelling mistakes to be corrected.

*

The butler didn’t do it

The low, midwinter sun cast its golden glow over the snow-covered forest. White-robed spruce and birch, rowan and beech, all stood silent in the cold. No wind stirring their branches.

The only thing moving was a lonely figure in a grey cloak who arduously trudged through the snow. They dragged a heavy spruce branch behind them, efficiently obscuring their tracks.

A man on a gleaming chestnut horse came to meet them. The horse high stepping through the snow. The jingling of the tack and the muffled hoofbeats loud in the stillness.

“There you are, Coal!” The man’s voice was suffused with joy and relief. He pushed back his brown hood to reveal long, dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard and sparkling, blue eyes. He reached out a restraining hand. “No, no, do not kneel. How are you?”

The blonde man bowed deeply. “I am well, Master. They have not suspected a thing.”

“Well done!” The man frowned. “Your clothes are too thin.” With a swift motion he unclasped his cloak, whipped it off and leaned down to lay it around Coal’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Master.” The pet gratefully wrapped the warm cloak tighter around himself. “I dare not arouse suspicion by showing off things that are above my station in life.”

“I’m sure you could come up with an excuse,” the rider grumbled, “a gift from your late master. A gift for uncommonly devoted service, that sort of thing. It is not uncommon, you know.”

Coal petted the horse’s neck, the mare nuzzling his hair with familiar affection.

“With all respect, Master. It isn’t worth the risk.”

“I trust your judgement.” The rider sighed. “I’m just worried about you.” He rallied, and continued briskly. “How did you manage to get out?”

“Like we planned. The cook was very happy with my avowed skill in setting traps and eager with the prospect of some hares to add to the supplies.”

“Brilliant.” The dark-haired man opened his saddlebag and revealed a brace of hares. Their soft, white fur shimmering in the pale sunlight. Thin, red lines circling their necks.

“Here you go, to further strengthen your reputation. I have sent Meredith to restring your traps.” He laughed. “She is a natural. She will take the path by the manor and insisted on wearing your old booths in case someone would be suspicious enough to check.”

“I had expected nothing less.” They exchanged proud smiles. Coal stuffed the hares into his own satchel.

“What is the mood in the house?”

“Everyone is in a tizzy about the upcoming holidays, eagerly and nervously awaiting the arriving guest.”

“I’m still angling for an invitation.” The rider interjected. “I will do all that is possible to make sure that I am there.”

“Thank you, Master.” The pet nodded and continued on. “The pets and the servants - not all of the servants are pets - are afraid.” He paused, thoughtfully. “But not, I think, of Mistress Gwendolyn, who I have barely seen, but who I hear is strict but fair and not unduly hash. The butler, the housekeeper and the cook have all been long with the household and they seem also generally well-liked by the staff. However… I’m sorry, Master. It pains me to speak ill of a person… the Mistress’ son seems to be a right piece of work. Cruel, insidious and apt to make problems for the staff.”

“Hmm…” The owner rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I haven’t heard anything about this, but I will try to find out more about him. Anything else?”

“I think that is all for now.”

“Good work. Here, I brought some food for you.”

“Thank you, Master.” The pet handed over the cloak and took the packet. He bowed again. “I will head back. I’ll try to return here on the day after tomorrow.”

“Coal?”

“Yes, Monsieur Dupond.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

*

Satisfied, Lydia left all the pages in neat stack of papers on the windowsill. Coriander would go through them and add comments later, too.

*

This is the continuation of The Butler didn’t do it that absolutely no one asked for. 😂 Actually, this is a chapter of Lydia’s work in progress that happens before the events in the first part. Cory is working hard to help Lydia improve her writing, and specifically her writing of pets.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[kittyball23]

Branch Has Feelings (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: As Poppy helps Bridget out with with her wedding outfits, Branch explores his old home, and experiences some emotions…

A/N: I tried giving Trailer 2 a chance to release, but I mean, we’re already about to get into August and there’s still nothing out online… But, like I’m sure a number of us have, I saw it on leak back around the 21st of July, therefore, my oneshots continue :3

Already as I’m sure you know from the new info and stuff that has been released in the past month, some of my theories have already been debunked – the fact that Spruce is married, the fact that Velvet and Veneer do not seem to be Bergens (unless they are a different kind of Bergens), the usage of ‘I Want You Back’ by NSYNC, the fact that the argument seemed to happen because of ONE wrong thing that occurred versus a culmination of stuff over time.

Note that I will not make changes to what I’ve already written, but I may rewrite some stuff as separate oneshots. I feel that making changes to what I’ve already written would kinda mess up the point of this collection of stories, which is, that they are supposed to be predictions and wild guesses before seeing the movie :)

__________________________________________

“We are family!

Get up everybody and sing!”

Troll voices from all six of the musical tribes rose up, loud and strong, mixing in with Bergen voices who were also singing along and causing a lovely melody to fill the air all around Bergen Town. How could anyone not be in a good mood? This was a time to celebrate – it was King Gristle and Bridget’s wedding day! Needless to say, there was much to do, from decorations to food to the seating arrangements and such. But it was not a matter to be worried over. There were more than enough helping hands to go around, and with music to help them groove along, the job was getting done pretty quickly and entertainingly. Attendees of the wedding were dressed down in their fanciest formal attire – tuxes, and gowns, and ribbons, and bows, and glitter were as far as the eye could see! There wasn’t one single individual who was not impressively adorned – at least this is how Queen Poppy of Pop Village saw it.

Poppy herself was looking quite nice that day as well, sporting a lovely green-and-pink glittered dress that had a fluffy, cotton train that ran from the skirt down. Extensions of various colors had been placed in her hair, and she’d even had a light layer of glittery makeup around her eyes. She knew she looked decent, but what made her feel exceptionally pretty was how much Branch had liked it. The way he’d told her she was beautiful, so cute and flustered, was replaying over and over in her head. She of course had immediately told him how handsome he looked, with his iridescent-fishscaled vest and glittery-green shorts. She wished she was looking at him now again, having her pink hand in his larger, warm teal one, but for the time being, the two of them had parted, seeing to different sections of the wedding prep and ensuring that it was coming along. Poppy’s glowbug had helped her fly along towards the castle, where she knew her dear friend Bridget was getting ready. Satin and Chenille were there, too, along with Smidge and Legsly. But all five girls were met with an unexpected sight inside the dressing room.

Rather than a song filling the air here, there was a wail, and that wail was coming from the bride herself!

“Oh my gah!” Smidge squeaked, her hands over her mouth as Bridget sat there, slumped at the vanity in her slip and crying, some of the makeup she had been attempting to apply running down her cheeks in dark streaks.

Poppy sprinted up to the Bergen. “Oh no, Bridget! What’s wrong?”

The twins gasped. “King Gristle didn’t cancel on you – “ Satin started asking.

“- Did he?” Chenille finished.

“Aw, no, that would be awful!” Legsly said, tugging at her orange pigtails in concern.

“You can just leave it to me to talk some sense into him,” Smidge said darkly, her voice deep, a frown on her eyebrows, and her hands busy at cracking her knuckles.

“No,” Bridget sniffled, trying to calm down some. “I… it’s just… I don’t know what to wear!” she blurted out. “This is the most important day of me and Grizzy’s life and… I just want to him to think I look nice!”

Poppy and the girls exchanged a glance of pity among one another. To anyone else it probably wouldn’t seem like a big deal, but in truth it was. They knew just how stressful a wedding could be, as they’d helped out plenty of times before for weddings in Pop Village. To add onto the matter, Poppy knew her friend was probably having doubts with the way she used to be the castle’s scullery maid for such a long time, ignored, with Gristle having been nearly oblivious to her existence. It was obvious to her and the other Trolls that Gristle would not go back to that, but still, her friend probably needed that extra reassurance.

Poppy made her up the vanity and patted Bridget on the arm. “Bridget, King Gristle loves you and thinks you’re beautiful no matter what. He really, really wants to marry you, because you make him happy!”

Bridget looked down at Poppy, like an epiphany had hit her. “I guess I do make him happy, don’t I?” she asked in a soft voice, then blushed.

“Uh, yeah! Totally!” Poppy said. “So even if you go out there with your maiden outfit, he’s still gonna marry you, because he loves you for you!”

The words were getting through to Bridget, and she smiled. Poppy really did know just what to say sometimes!

The twins, however, were having different sentiments. They exchanged a glance with one another and then piped up.

“Uh Poppy, she’s, um, not going to go out there with that outfit though, right?” Satin asked while her sister Chenille peered up worriedly.

“No way!” Bridget and Poppy exclaimed at the same time, and then laughed at the image that it put in their heads.

The twins breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness! It would have been a certain fashion disaster. They turned their attention to the plain, white wedding dress that was laid out on the bed.

“Hmmm,” they both hummed at the same time, mirroring each other with their hands on their chins and sharing the same squinted look at the apparel. “How far can we take this?”

Bridget perked up. “Oh, however far you want! Please! I want everything – ribbons, bows, frills, lace – whatever you wanna do!” She clasped her hands excitedly.

Satin and Chenille liked that answer. They pumped their fists in the air. “All right! Then let’s do this!”

With the help of the four Trolls, Bridget was transformed into a gorgeous diva. The dress was adorned with various colorful bows at the skirt, and was very frilly at the train. Bridget looked at herself in the mirror and gushed, absolutely loving it so far. “Oh, it’s great! But… maybe it needs more.” She paused and thought for a second, and then snapped her fingers. “Ooo! How about flowers!”

The twins gave her a thumbs up. “Flowers – we’re on it!” Soon enough, Bridget’s dress had been modified to include a gorgeous array of colorful flowers, just as vibrant as the bows were, that were stitched onto the blouse portion of the dress.

“Wow!” Legsly said, stretching herself up on her legs to get a better look all around Bridget. “That’s so cool!”

“I know!” Bridget squealed. “Oh! But how about we add little rainbows and glitter and stuff? Oh oh! And can you make my hair bigger?”

Once again, Satin and Chenille hopped in to help. “You got it, girl!” they said, giving her a thumbs up.

Bridget was once more changed, and this time, she looked super extra glamourous!

Well, maybe a little TOO extra glamorous…

Her hair had indeed been puffed up huge with extensions galore – it looked almost big enough to live inside of! Her makeup had been done heavily, with dark, navy-blue eyeshadow, a brilliant scarlet-red lipstick, and deep pink blush coating her cheeks. Her dress indeed had the rainbow designs she wanted – on top of the bows and flowers that were already there. It all was shiny-fied with a layer of glitter, making everything about her glimmer like diamonds. And that was not mentioning the large, hoop earrings that had little gem-like crystals hanging from the ends.

“Oh my gah!” Smidge said again, and this time she recoiled a little.

Bridget gave a little shout of fright when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, also. “AH! Oops… too much, huh?”

Poppy grimaced a little. “Err… maybe juuust a tad,” she admitted. “But you guys keep working on that, alright? You’ll figure something out, and it’s gonna be fabulous!” The Pop Queen gave her friend a reassuring thumbs up and then began to mount on the glowbug that she’d used to ride over to the castle. “I’ll come back in a little bit, I’m gonna just check on a few things in the town!”

“Okay, Poppy!” all five of the girls called back to her.

Poppy shook her head fondly, chuckling as she was brought back to the main town square. Bridget was so excited – so she could only imagine what it would be like to know that you were going to be united with your one true love, to be bound for life in a union that was stronger than the glitter glue that was sold at Sky Toronto’s Fun Factory! Secretly, Poppy hoped to have that experience someday, with the one Troll that had her heart captive, though she wouldn’t admit to him just yet. She knew that said Troll was still probably getting used to the whole idea of even being in a relationship, let alone with the Queen of Pop.

Hmmm… where IS he? she suddenly thought. Poppy flew her bug over to where she saw Prince D and Cooper helping out on the banquet table for the grand feast that was to take place right after the wedding. She grinned, watching the brothers pal around and groove with each other, and, not for the first time, wishing that she, too, had a sibling that she could sing with.

“Hi, Cooper! Hi, D!” she greeted cheerily, waving her hand.

“Hey, Poppy!” Prince D said. “How’s it goin’?”

“Totally amazing!” Poppy replied with a giggle. “Have you guys seen Branch?”

“No, I haven’t,” Prince D said. He then nudged Cooper. “Have you, bro?”

“Uh-huh!” Cooper nodded, helpfully gesturing his long neck over to where the altar was set. “I think I saw him head over for the Troll Tree!”

“Oh!” Poppy said, wondering what her boyfriend was up to. “Well, okay! Thanks!” She gave Cooper a high-five, and Cooper gave his signature goofball laugh as he watched the Pop Queen head off.

“Any time, Poppy!” he called.

__________________________________________

As it turned out, Branch was in fact at the Troll Tree.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d gone up exploring the Pop Trolls’ old home. Many pods were, surprisingly, still as intact as they had been before King Peppy had evacuated the town. He could see the old schoolpod, and the large one that was the one for the royal family. Which made him wonder…

Branch scaled the tree, guiding his glowbug to the right places to go, around certain familiar bends, mushrooms, and vines that were there, until he finally reached the spot, stopping short and gaping. There it was. Still in the same spot that it had always been, as timeless as ever.

His old pod.

Well, it had been his grandmother’s old pod, but it had been his home all the same.

The nostalgia hit him hard as soon as he’d dismounted the bug and set foot inside. Not much had changed, really at all. It was the same old carpet, the same old decorations, the same old walls and halls. He remembered how his grandmother would sing to him and play games out there in their living room, and how they’d both snack on delicious treats of all kinds in the dining area. He remembered his grandmother letting him help out in the kitchen making cookies, and when she’d tuck him into bed at night, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead and always reminding him that he was loved. He remembered being thankful for it, having needed that reminder to keep him planted in reality. But most of all, he remembered something else…

His eyes darted to the gramophone at the farther end of the pod, and he remembered how much his grandmother would love to play music on there. He could remember how she would dance with him, letting him stand atop her feet while she toddled them about, the two of them enjoying themselves thoroughly and laughing. They’d had plenty of music to dance with and plenty of records to show for. Though, of that collection, there had been a significant amount of them had not been played. Those particular records caused too much pain for the two of them, yet, it would have been even more painful to simply discard them, and make pretend that they didn’t exist. That’s why they were always right there, tucked behind the gramophone, where it was an arms distance away, but never dared to be played out loud.

On automatic, Branch felt himself move toward the gramophone. He swallowed hard when he did in fact see records still there, tucked neatly behind it. He itched to reach for them, to see the cover of the albums he had so wanted to forget existed. But he wasn’t so sure.

Get a hold of yourself, Branch scolded himself. You got used to the other song, didn’t you?

That ‘other song,’ as he called it in his head, was in fact Total Eclipse of the Heart, the song he’d so gladly belted out when he was a young boy, singing into his flower microphone…

… Providing the soundtrack to his grandmother’s death.

Branch shook his head. True to how that voice in his head had reminded him, he indeed had learned to accustom himself to the song once again. He wouldn’t willingly go out of his way to play it, but he wouldn’t find himself tearing up and feeling lightheaded after hearing it, either. He had learned to keep those emotions in check. Could he keep these in line, too?

Before he could help himself, he tugged the albums out from behind the gramophone. They were a little dusty, but not too bad to where he couldn’t tell what was on it. Because he most certainly could. They were four faces he still had yet to see again, after over twenty years and still counting. The faces of John Dory, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd. Also known as the hit boyband BroZone.

Also known as his brothers.

Branch felt angry at himself for already starting to feel a pang in his chest. This wasn’t even an actual photo of them! The album covers were just little felt, scrapbook-like figures that looked a little silly in their appearance, each brother identifiable by their bright-colored hair – JD a brilliant turquoise, Spruce a rich purple, Clay a bright yellow, and Floyd a serene magenta. Then there was himself – pictured with his crop of blue hair right there with the rest of them, side by side, together.

If only it had been that way in real life…

Branch frowned. What was the use in dwelling on alternative scenarios? He wouldn’t call himself as much of a pessimist as he was in his gray days, but there were still some bits of mottos and self-advice that he’d acquired then that he still used to that day. One of those was the fact that sometimes, bad things happened, and nothing could be done to change them. His poor grandmother, for example. She had been taken by Bergens, suffering a horrible fate. He couldn’t do anything about it now. There was no time machine to take him back to that moment and fix what had occurred. Just like there wasn’t one to help take him back to that other awful day, one that had happened a few years beforehand, and fix the mistake that had happened…

Branch glared at one of the album covers. A few silly songs were not going to get the better of him. He tugged the record out of the case and placed it on the gramophone, adjusting the needle so that it lay on top of it. The gramophone was old, but worked without so much as a hitch, and, slowly, a tune began to warble its way out of it, a little low at first, but then louder, clear enough so he could hear the song that was playing and clear enough so he could pick out just who was singing what part. Branch felt himself freeze when he recognized what song it was, and inwardly groaned. Of all songs, it had to be this one. The one that they’d done right before everything got decimated. He wanted to tear the record out of the gramophone right there and then, but it was too late. He was being taken back to that memory, still feeling so fresh on his mind even after so long…

__________________________________________

There was a packed house that night.

The five boys could hear the loud whoops and cheers from the Trolls that had gathered there to see the show, impatiently hooting and hollering with uncontained joy. They knew it was so much fun to perform, but they also knew how critical it was to get their performance as perfect as possible. That was, if they wanted to win the award.

It was going to be difficult, but John Dory, the leader of their pack, welcomed it. Finally, a chance to share the stage with the greats – like the Sugar Gals and the Chillin' JillyNs, who had already gone on and performed before them – and outshine them! There had been not one single doubt in John Dory's mind that BroZone was the most band-tastic musical group out there. What more, if they'd managed to pull this off, they'd be the youngest talent to ever have won. John Dory was starry-eyed, already imagining just how many pictures he and his brothers would take with the wonderful trophy. He had already cleared a space in their room on the wall, and also made room on one of their shelves for where the trophy would be placed.

He quickly polished down his goggles and then snapped them on his head carefully, checking in the mirror to make sure that they looked extra fly. His other brothers were also getting ready for their performance – Spruce was sprucin' up with a little bit of hair gel and spray, Clay was warming up with a plié of sorts, and Floyd was clipping on the one pearl earring he liked to wear.

John Dory took a deep breath and clapped his hands together once to garner their attention.

"All right, listen up!" he said. "I don't think you really need me to tell ya how important this night is, but, heh, I still kinda am going to." Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he placed his hands on his hips in a way that made him look very determined. "We are going to make boy band history tonight..." His voice was deep and serious, and the others could get the gist of how critical everything was. Everything had to be flawless, and, luckily, it all was practiced to perfection, so Spruce, Clay, and Floyd didn't really feel so concerned.

Still, though, there was one bro who wasn't feeling up to that particular level of confidence. John Dory didn't notice, but Floyd did, and he wanted to say something about it.

"Bro," he said, approaching JD's side. "You're making Baby Branch nervous."

John Dory peered over to where Floyd was gesturing at. Their youngest brother of the bunch was a few paces outside of the dressing room, standing near the curtain where just beyond it was the large mushroom stage on which they would be performing on that night in just a few short moments. Branch shuffled from side to side on his small blue feet, and had his eyebrows creased with slight worry.

JD dismissed the matter. “Ah, it’s just the usual pre-performance jitters. He’ll get over it!”

“I don’t know, JD…” Floyd said.

“Want me to go talk to him?”

The magenta Troll glanced at his eldest brother. John Dory meant well, yes, but Floyd noticed that sometimes he could be a little oblivious to how his words affected someone. A pep talk that was good for some teens who’ve already put on several shows before might not be so good for a small baby who’d just barely gotten his singing voice. But Floyd didn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to explain this to JD at that moment. “Maybe I’d better go talk to him,” he said.

JD looked slightly confused for a second, before recovering. “Huh? Well, alright, but make it snappy, ‘kay?”

Floyd gave him a quick thumbs up and then walked over to where their youngest brother still stood, perhaps looking even a smidge more nervous than he had a second or two ago. Floyd felt pity for him. Baby Branch was the smallest one of their group, but he looked even smaller now, with how fearful he was being.

“Hey, bro,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

Branch didn’t turn around just yet. His eyes were still fixed on the curtain. “No,” he responded, his voice small, meek, and of course, babyish in its nature. “I feel like I’m gonna barf.” He turned around to look at Floyd, pressing his little hands together.

“Branch, it’s just another show,” Floyd said, keeping his tone light. “It’s just like our rehearsals.”

“But there’s so many people…” Branch worried. He stole another glance from behind the curtain, and whimpered a little.

“Yeah, there is,” Floyd agreed, “but that’s because they wanna see just how great you are on stage. You, and me, and all our brothers.”

Branch’s eyes lit up some. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Floyd responded, glad to see that his little brother was showing signs of feeling better.

“B-but… what if I mess up?” Branch asked, worry still pricking at him. “They’re gonna be mad…” The blue Trolling peeked over to where John Dory, Spruce, and Clay were at in the dressing room.

“They might be a little disappointed if we don’t win,” Floyd admitted. He knew he would probably feel slightly disappointed, too. “But, hey, remember our motto?”

Branch scrunched his small face as he tried to remember. “A prankster never reveals his tricks?”

“No, I think you’re thinking about Clay’s motto,” Floyd chuckled. “I’m talking about the BroZone motto, the one John Dory came up with?”

Branch thought again and then seemed to get it. “Bros before shows?” he asked, tentatively.

Floyd nodded. “Exactly! And you do know what that means, right?”

Branch squinched up his nose. “I think…”

Floyd kneeled down, and placed a hand on Branch’s shoulder. “It means that being brothers is always gonna be more important than any performance that we do. Okay?”

“Well… okay!” Branch replied chirpily, and then snuggled into Floyd when the magenta-haired Trolling scooped the baby in for a warm hug. Branch was still a little skeptical about their band’s motto. He constantly heard John Dory remind them any time before they performed that that show was “very important.” Oh well, he could get clarification later. At that moment, Floyd had released him and was taking his hand in his.

“Come on, now,” he said, “let’s go back to the others.”

Branch let himself be guided along back into the dressing room, where, sure enough, John Dory huddled the whole team together for one final bout of pep-talking.

“We’re gonna be entering this as band-tastic boys, but we’re gonna be leaving it as bro-dacious superstars!”

The boys cheered, excited and eager, exchanging rounds of high-fives, fist-bumps, and even a playful smack in the rear (specifically John Dory on Baby Branch).

If only the positive attitude had remained with them for the rest of that night.

Because what was once seeming to be a dream come true on that stage rapidly turned into a Nightmare on Elm Tree. With the fall. And then the vines. And then the humiliation. And then the argument…

If they had been puffalo, they would have certainly careened their way back inside the safety of their pod with their tails between their legs. But they were not puffalo, they were Trollings, who all had a variation of negative emotions radiating from them.

Spruce’s cheeks burned red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He stormed into the center of the pod and whirled on his brothers. “My rock-hard abs and I quit!” he growled, making a show of tearing his purple vest from his body and ripping it clean in two.

Clay was quick to second that. “I quit too!” he said, despising the way that folks had laughed at him, and not with him.

Floyd was about to speak up, hoping to turn the heat down, but John Dory didn’t want to bother even hearing what he had to say. In less than a minute, they were already two brothers down in their band. He didn’t see a point – Floyd was probably just going to say that he quit, too! He stormed over to the entrance of the pod. “This bro bro’s goin’ solo… YOLO!” JD called over his shoulder, still trying to bust a rhyme even as he headed off, glaring at his brothers and then departing.

Branch stood on wobbly little legs beside Floyd, barely registering his older brother’s presence, his head in a whirl. He felt tears pooling in his large blue eyes, and a whimper in his throat.

“I ruined everything…”

In his eyes, he really did. If he had just practiced more, if he had just been as great as John Dory, and Spruce, and Clay, and Floyd had wanted him to be, then this wouldn’t have happened. Then he wouldn’t have been standing there, watching his family fall apart before his very eyes, watching the band break up, watching their dream be crushed.

This is all my fault. MINE.

I’m the one to blame. Nobody but me.

I ruined our band. I ruined our family.

I wasn’t good enough.

They hate me.

This is MY fault…

__________________________________________

“Branch?”

The Troll gasped, and he jumped right into action as soon as he’d heard the voice of his girlfriend pipe up from behind him. His fingers flew to the gramophone, and quickly removed the needle from the record. Then he turned around, plastering a large, toothy grin on his face in hopes of remaining inconspicuous.

Poppy was standing tentatively at the doorway of the room, a little uncertain, and some concern shining in her fuchsia eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re crying and smiling at the same time. It kinda looks like it hurts.”

“It does kinda hurt,” Branch admitted, feeling up his face with his hands. Then he sighed, letting the smile drop and hurriedly wiping away the remainder of the tears that had streaked his face.

Poppy approached him. “Branch? Please tell me what’s the matter…”

Branch rubbed his arm. “It’s nothing, really… it’s just that this place brings back a lot of memories, that’s all,” he said, trying not to let his voice waver.

Poppy nodded in understanding. “This was your grandmother’s pod, wasn’t it?” she asked, though she knew the answer already. A small portrait of Grandma Rosiepuff was on one of the walls near the door, and the types of antiques and such that were leftover in the pod also gave her a clue.

“Yes, actually,” Branch said. “This was where I grew up.” He gestured around the space and felt another lump grow in his throat thinking about his beloved grandparent. “I miss her.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you do,” Poppy cooed, taking it as her cue to bestow a much-needed hug onto him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. Branch returned the hug, extremely grateful for the comfort.

After a moment, Branch allowed himself to speak again. “Grandma and I did lots of stuff here. We loved to sing and listen to music together before, um…” He trailed off, and Poppy already knew what it was that he was getting at, though she did not force him to have to say it out loud.

Instead, the Pop Queen’s gaze drifted to the gramophone, and the albums next to it. She raised an eyebrow curiously. “Can I take a look?” she asked, gently releasing their embrace and peering up at him with question in her eyes.

Branch felt himself go stiff. NO! he wanted to blurt. But he knew his hard refusal over something so trivial would meet Poppy with confusion, and then have her raise suspicion. She’ll wonder what I’m hiding, he thought. He’d managed to keep his secret under wraps for this long, much to his surprise, and he did not want her to put two and two together and figure it out. But if I show her the album, maybe she WILL figure it out! Branch argued with himself. His blue face was plastered on the cover of the album just as prominent as his other brothers. But then again, I was a baby back then, he reasoned. I mean, I’ve grown up since then. I don’t look THAT much the same now than I did back then… do I?

Branch didn’t want to keep going on this back-and-forth, so he found himself slowly nodding to Poppy in reply. Poppy smiled and went right for the albums, carefully picking them up. Her reaction was just as he’d pictured it. Confusion, and then pleasant surprise.

“BroZone?!” she exclaimed. “Oh my gosh… and they’re original records!” Poppy ran her hand over the cover, her fingers grazing over the felted cover and the little figures of the boys that were featured. Poppy gushed some more. “Wow! I can’t believe it! I mean, I had no idea your Grandma was a fan!”

“Yeah… um… I guess they had universal appeal,” Branch said, very carefully choosing his words.

Poppy sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Her pupils dilated, and there was a sudden lovestruck quality to her gaze, one that made Branch feel a twang of jealousy. “They’re my favorite band!” she blurted.

“Oh… really?” Branch asked, maintaining his voice to a calm level.

“Yeah!” Poppy said. “Oh, can I please play one song? Please?”

“Err…” Branch swallowed. He’d just tried to listen to ‘one song,’ believing that after so long of being apart from his disbanded family, it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him. But he’d been wrong – very wrong. Heck, he hadn’t even remembered when he’d started crying!

Poppy saw his hesitance, and quickly added, “I don’t have to, it’s okay, you know…” She was saying the words, but Branch could tell she wasn’t fully ready to take on that option. At least not with the way her fingers twitched excitedly on the record, more than ready to place it in to be played. He didn’t want to disappoint his girlfriend… or have her ask any questions out of suspicion.

“No, no, it’s all right! G-go ahead,” Branch said, coughing afterwards to not have her pay any mind to his brief stutter.

Poppy didn’t pay mind. She squealed happily, bouncing twice on the spot, and then placing the record in. The opening notes to “The Right Stuff” began to play, making her bop her head up and down.

“First time was a great time Second time was a blast Third time I fell in love Now I hope it lasts I can see it in your walk Tell 'em when you talk See it in everything you do Even in your thoughts

You got the right stuff, baby Love the way you turn me on You got the right stuff, baby You're the reason why I sing this song!”

Poppy giggled as she sang along, removing the record when the song was done and looking at Branch. “Ahhh, I just love this song! It’s my favorite! How about you? What’s your favorite song of theirs?”

“Well, you see, um, I don’t actually have a favorite song,” Branch said, in a way telling the truth. He hated hearing the songs now, as they only brought him bad memories.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean! I mean, how can you pick a favorite when they’re all so awesome!” Poppy exclaimed, unaware of his thoughts. Then she paused. “No wait, scratch that, not awesome, but uh, what’s that other word they used… oh! Oh wait, I remember! Bro-dacious!” She snapped her fingers, happy to have recollected correctly. “Yeah! The leader of the band used to say it all the time. Oh, he was sooo cute!”

John Dory! Cute?! Branch frowned. He could think up an hour-long speech with over hundreds of reasons for how NOT ‘cute’ that airhead of a brother of his was, starting with the fact that he abandoned him. But what Poppy said next distracted him.

“Oh who am I kidding – they were all cute! Especially the baby, he was my favorite!”

Branch blinked. “The baby?” he echoed.

“Uh-huh!” Poppy said. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished I coulda pinched his cute little fat cheeks – like this!” She squealed and demonstrated by pinching Branch’s blue cheek between her pink fingers. Now that he had to chuckle at. Boy, if only she knew the irony, Branch thought.

“Oh, but Branch,” she said, suddenly reeling herself back, “None of them are cuter, or sweeter, or more handsome than you are.” She blushed, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I made you think so… I kinda go a little bonkers about BroZone.” Poppy let out a flustered little laugh and looked down at the ground, like a child that had been caught swiping from the cookie jar.

Branch suppressed the sigh that wanted to escape him. He felt bad for feeling jealous before. It wasn’t her fault. Poppy didn’t know. Poppy wouldn’t ever come to know. She was just like much of their fans when the band was in their prime, fangirling and overly ecstatic at the mere mention of BroZone’s name. And part of him really did wish he could tell her. He didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from his girlfriend, the one Troll who loved him and understood him so well. She wouldn’t keep secrets from him. And, she would also understand about his past if he explained it, wouldn’t she? But then again, at the same time it would open the floodgates for a whole bunch of other questions. She would never look at him the same way again, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t see ‘Branch,’ she would see ‘Bitty B,’ the small, diaper-clad youngest performer of BroZone. Not only that, but she would want to know every single little miniscule detail about his brothers. She’d wanna know their whereabouts and how she could get a chance to meet them and get their autographs. Those were things he didn’t have answers to, and even if he did, he most certainly wouldn’t want to tell her so that he’ll have to deal with them again. Was telling her worth it? Was what he’d envisioned happening afterwards something that he really wanted?

No.

Branch had to go with his default answer this time around, despite, deep down, his gut feeling telling him otherwise.

What does it matter! Branch argued with himself. There’s plenty of time to tell her. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen to require the explanation to be given. If there was, he figured, it would have happened by now. If his brothers really and truly cared, if they felt remorse in any way for the wrong that had happened, matters should’ve been resolved by now. Long resolved. If they wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, then he’d do the same – he would go on with the illusion that he had no siblings to speak of. A family didn’t abandon one another, so in a way, it was sort of true. He had no brothers.

Branch’s decision settled, he approached Poppy and gently took her hands. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I still love you, Poppifer,” he cooed, using her fun little nickname that he’d invented even before they’d officially sealed their relationship.

Poppy’s blush of embarrassment turned to one of bashfulness, and a sweet little giggle escaped her at once again hearing that this wonderful Troll loved her. She was still swooning when she heard Branch suddenly gasp, looking down at the watch in his Hug Time bracelet.

“Poppy! We’re gonna be late for the royal wedding!” he cried, grabbing her arm in haste. “Let’s go get married!”

The Pop Queen gasped. “Branch!”

Branch glanced at her in confusion, seeing the shocked look she now wore. “What?” Then it had hit him what he’d said. “OH! I – I mean, let’s get Bridget and Gristle married,” he corrected himself, chuckling awkwardly.

Poppy looked relieved. “Oh, okay! Because that would be weird if we got married.”

Branch quickly agreed. “Yes, very weird. Yeah.”

They awkwardly looked away as they continued to bounce agreement off one another, Branch finalizing the point with a seemingly disgusted “bleh” which Poppy copied. By then, the awkwardness had lifted some, and they were ready to make their way over. But Branch still had a lingering thought in mind.

Would it really be that weird if they got married? They had already reached the status of being boyfriend-and-girlfriend, so, logically, if things went well in their relationship, marriage would be the next step. And Branch couldn’t foresee anything going wrong in their relationship. Sure, they’d had a little tiff back when they had only been best friends, after he’d pointed out that she hadn’t been listening very well and that in turn was making her not be as great of a queen as she’d wanted to be. But even that was resolved fairly easily enough, and their relationship only continued to blossom from there.

Does Poppy really think it’s weird, though? Branch wasn’t sure, but right now, he didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding out. This day was not about him and Poppy – it was about their friends, Bridget and Gristle and their marriage. One day, perhaps, it could be about him and Poppy. And boy did he look forward to that day. By that point though, if they were lucky enough to reach that cherished husband-and-wife status, Branch knew that one thing was for certain, and that one thing was making his stomach churn with foreboding, making him think back to the albums that were in his grandmother’s old pod, the way Poppy had glanced at the Trollings on the cover and then at Branch and having not made the correlation.

There CAN’T be any secrets between us.

__________________________________________

A/N: I had to write this after seeing the way the new trailer started 😭 Bridget's wedding outfits scene was an idea used from the leaked pages of The Art of Trolls Band Together. Song used is "The Right Stuff" by New Kids on the Block

Oh yeah, and I had to include the "let's go get married" bit again, because it is one of my favorite things ^_^

[bonesandthebees]

Internship is certainly going. I want to say going okay… I could be doing better but I kinda got unlucky with my internship spot and workload. This would be much easier to explain if I could just say what kinda of internship it is, but that kinda feels like too much details both for my current degree and the job I’ll be doing after. (Internet safety and all that). Anyway, what I can say is that anyone in the field irl pulls a face when they hear about my internship. The workload feels impossible, but somehow I’m doing it and I’m about half way through so *aggressively knocks on wood* it should be fine.

I do have a different internship in like a month or so and some other projects but those feel like child’s play compared to the current hell incarnate. So moral of the story: sometimes you just get to have a few mental breakdowns, pick yourself back up and go again the next day (again and again and again and again). It’s like that quote: [“It gets a little bit easier every day, but you have to keep doing it.”] or what’s the other one? [the only way out is through]. And then take plenty of breaks and do fun things even if it feels like you don’t have the time because that’s the only thing that’ll keep you going. The world is always more manageable after a good meal or a power nam or a 15 minute music break.

I’ve been blasting a lot of music based on moods, getting back into Dutch music because girl, I need to learn how to spell properly and every internship I have a song that gets me through. This one it’s ‘secret for the mad’ by Dodie. I’ve had to loop it over and over to get the motivation to try at times, to really let the words sink in, but it helps. So find a song to get you through when you need it.

Lastly, I’ve been meaning to say something about Him, but I just haven’t had the time and energy to write something coherent (aka I’m not using my 30 minutes of evening downtime that are just for me for this negative energy). Best thing is can say is that this is a good opportunity to get into new creators. Just have fun with it (hermitcraft season 10 has been getting be through this). Listen to new music. Try new things to fill the void. I’ve pruned all my playlists and social media follows and such and it felt like a fresh start. (Oh and learned your red flags people. People who don’t respect your boundaries (no matter how small) can be(come) very dangerous.)

My only issue now is that I can play since I saw Vienna and La Jolla on guitar (the picking patterns always smooth me), but now I’m not sure if I can keep doing that. I haven’t tried playing them. I feel like I should look at the lyrics first then decide. But I haven’t found any picking songs with the same soothing vibe, so I’ve been playing a bunch of my classical pieces and I really like playing the ‘romantic’ ones and for some reason the polkas and the blues? So again filling the void.

Anyway, thanks for all the well wishes. I’ve been missing you guys. This has been chaotic life updates with Spruce. I really need to start being productive now. So, bye!

-🌲

yeah of course don't say any details that would reveal too much info about you, but man that sounds stressful :( at least you'll switch to something else in a month?? I'm so sorry you're stuck in hell rn I hope you get through it alright!! make sure to take it easy when you can!! you're so right the world is so much easier to deal with after a power nap or a snack

oooo I haven't heard secret for the mad in a long time but I used to listen to dodie from time to time. I used to think of such angsty scenarios with my ships while listening to 'sick of losing soulmates'

also it's so real to have a song to help you get through shit like that. I'd say rn for me one of those songs is all american bitch by olivia rodrigo because I just have a lot of fun screaming it in the car. tested waters by loupe is a calmer one I've been listening to on repeat lately

you're right this is a great opportunity to get into new creators. I was already drifting to watching qsmp creators more often besides just phil and tubbo, but now I've been trying to tune into bagi and tina's streams if I have the time

definitely look at the lyrics first, but I feel like out of most of the ycgma songs since I saw vienna and la jolla are two of the 'safest' options you could pick for something like that. at least compared to your sister was right and losing face...

la jolla and since i saw vienna are both such pretty songs though. there's nothing wrong with playing those on your own guitar I'd say? it's not giving any money to him. but of course it's up to your own personal comfort.

good luck spruce!!! ty for checking in we all miss you over here!! <33

[unhingedselfships]

Kimi feels like she doesn't contribute. Kadokura disagrees.

....

"I just worry I don't do enough."

Kadokura Kenshi was used to half tuning out Kimi's assorted mopings. He was good at listening just enough to reassure her adequately, while not actually paying that much attention to whatever she was whining about at the time. 

She was insecure, self loathing, had more issues than he had-

Not that he had any!

-and honestly just prone to spirals of depression.

She was his, and he adored her, but sometimes it wasn't worth giving all his attention to listen to her vent the same old worries.

This one though? This one caught his attention.

"Kimberly."

She fidgeted, she knew that tone. 

"Well I do. You do so much for me. And I'm just… here."

He stood, and she blinked at him as he paced across the floor, the girl suddenly a little nervous. He moved more when he was agitated. Though she didn't really need to worry unless he went entirely still. 

"Let's see here, shall we?"

Tilting her head in that charming, adorable, curious way of hers, he flashed her a smile, and began, ticking off fingers as he went.

“You cook for me, you’re a good assistant when I’m cooking, never in the way, always helpful.

You keep the house organized and spruce the place up, give it more personality than I ever bothered with but always keep my tastes in mind.

You help me wash and dye my hair, cheer me up when I’m in a bad mood.

You explain your silly little computer games to me - okay, I’m joking, that’s actually a favor I do for you. Listening to you explain your games, I mean.

But you pick movies for us to watch, and never mind if I tell you to pick something else.

You give me massages when I’m sore or sometimes just to be nice, and you hold me when I can’t sleep. 

You give me smashing advice on matters of business, and you listen to me carefully even when I’m ranting, and you trust my judgment, and you make me laugh with your very stupid jokes-“

He took a breath, glancing over at the girl. What flashes of her face he could see between her fingers, bashfully hiding, were a bright pretty pink.

He liked making her flush like that. 

"Carrying on,

You have great ideas about what to do with the garden, and you keep me company when I’m swimming."

Kadokura blushed, turning slightly embarrassed.

"You do the, ah, things with - the sniper things."

He shook it off and resumed his faux-stern lecture.

"You get between me and the dog when we pass a dog on the street - don’t think I haven’t noticed! 

And you make the best candies and pastries, and you even put them directly in my mouth when I’m feeling like a lazy ass. 

You scratch my scalp, which basically feels better than sex - don’t give me that look! 

You let me lie on you all the damn time, which I’m pretty sure has to get uncomfortable but you wait a long time before asking me to move. 

You encourage me when I’m feeling cranky, and you always have such - such nice things to say about me. 

You give me advice on my wardrobe, which, mind you, has actually helped me start conversations that resulted in new connections-“

Taking another deep breath and pausing to take a gulp of the drink she'd poured for him earlier. She'd collapsed onto the couch, burying her face into a cushion.

The dramatic stop-

or 'stahp' rather

-was just as endearing as her other cute quirks. She was so darling. His darling.

And he wasn't done. 

Humming, arms folded behind his back, he continued.

"Where was I, ah, yes,

You explain things so well. You always take the time to explain stuff that isn’t making sense to me, even if I’m getting frustrated, which, I know I’m not the most fun to be around, ok? 

And you try so, so hard to be flexible and adjust and you’re always putting me first. Too much, even. 

But you take baths with me, and you don’t complain about the weird mixed drinks I make up, and you make such nice faces, and it really cheers me up. 

You don’t even complain when I - when I become useless. You pick up after my messes and make sure I'm taken care of. 

You look out for my health, and - there are just a million things you do for me, Kimi. I'm not alone when I wake up. You go for drives with me, and you track down activities to do together and places to see, and you’re always willing to spend time with me-"

Kenshi cut himself off, turning away from her for a moment. In a way, it hurt, that she didn't realize her own significance. And thinking about all she did in plain terms-

It was a lot. Overwhelming. No one had ever cared so much. Feelings were confusing and sometimes upsetting but there was no denying. She loved him. 

It was so much. 

He cleared his throat, and turned back, faux-stern and ready again, "Anyway. That was the first half. Shall I continue?"

It was quiet, and he took a moment to check on her. One wide teary eyed visible, the other still smooshed against the cushion, lip trembling, she caught his gaze and reached for him.

"Oh! Sweetheart, no, don't cry," all fluttering hands and doting, he descended upon her, with soft shushing sounds.

Had he miscalculated? Hurt her? Again?

She tugged and he curled around her on the couch, hold tender and protective.

Her watery, "I love you," met with his quiet, "I know."

Her mumbled, "I don't deserve you," met with his fond, "I don't know about that."

Her clinging, "Stay with me," met with his certain, "Always."

Poor thing. Always so easily overwhelmed. Her emotions were always so big, so powerful. She didn't do things by half measures. He should have considered that before lecturing her. Or maybe she should have considered it before saying dumb things. 

Oh well. It didn't matter. She'd fall apart, and he'd hold her together. Just like she always did for him. They were bound to each other now. Normally he'd scold himself for being flowery and poetic like her but-

This was deeper than law and bodies. Than ceremony and tradition.

She was his, and he was hers.

And that, was that.

[flock-talk]

Talking about diet… How do you comp with the “is this the best I can do?” Feeling. I’m a neurotic teacher and I want to offer the best for Latte when she comes home and from what I seen more holistic diets offer the diversity that I find really attractive but I really like the fool proofness of making a pellet mix. Then I don’t trust anyone saying “We know this 100% what a parrot diet should look like” because we don’t even know what all they eat in the wild, wild parrots could be solar powered for all we know 😭. It’s low key super overwhelming and I wish their was more research on parrot diets bc right now I’m at a “idk tops and oven fresh bites with a seed free dry mix???” For things outside of fresh food.

Chatting with your vet team and observing/ recording data are honestly the best ways to curb those feelings.

With the current state of knowledge on parrot nutrition no one can really say that one pellet is better than another outside of things that we truly understand (like impacts of colour on selective consumption, fallouts with sugars, excess fats, and things like that). So when it comes to settling on a diet to feed its best to take what you do know, find the best option within your budget and region, read some reviews and try it out.

You’ll consult with the vet regarding your current findings and ideas, check their bloodwork to see if their diet needs tweaking, and go from there. From home you can monitor their droppings, their behaviour, and their plumage to see if the current diet is doing well for them. Bright, shiny, strong feathers without discolouration, fraying, or weakness are a pretty good sign that their current diet is doing a pretty good job for them. Consistent reliable behaviours not mood swings, hormone fluctuations, or compulsive over eating tend to suggest their diets doing okay. And consistent droppings (for the most part) that are a good colour, solid, clean white urates, and clear urine not excessively watery and loose tend to suggest you’re on the right track.

As you try out new diets and sort out what ones you like best you’ll see changes in those things which can help you see whether or not the diet is best for your specific bird. No matter what is currently trending or “accepted” by the bird community, if it doesn’t show good results for your bird then it isn’t the diet for your bird.

As time goes on you’ll try a bunch of things and you can have a lot of fun with the diet, providing it in foragers, offering new flavours and pellets sizes, sampling brand new veggies, surprise special fruits, growing sprouts, trying soaked seeds. There’s tons of ways to spruce up the diet even if it’s just a smaller portion of it, and not the entire bulk of their nutrition being tampered with. That allows you to get more of that “free foraging natural diet” feel without so much risk with nutrient densities!

[localgardenweed]

Was watching Minecraft videos and then started talking to myself and tought WHY CANT WE PICK UP DIFFERENT COLORED GRASSES TO MAKE CUSTOM GRASS PATTERNS OR JUST CHOOSE NICER GRASSES.

I hate when I’m building smth in a biome or multiple biomes and then the grass turns this ugly ass color and ruins the whole mood (looking at you acacia biome) or when im in said biome i just hate the color of grass (once again acacia). Or maybe i want to expand a biome grass a little farther for the build or just to expand the tiny biome for more build potential

Like you’d think at this point after all of these blocks and new biomes and random shit we’d do this to enhance the creativity. Like think about the cool ass grass patterns you can do in survival cause i think you can do that with commands and shit idk but THINK ABOUT THE SURVIVAL PEOPLE.

In my mind it maybe would work like with a silk touch shovel it would pick up the grass type and be like “regular grass”, “jungle biome grass”, “spruce biome grass” etc etc and stays the same when you place it down. If you want to grow more of that grass you can bonemeal on it and either it will change the color of other grass blocks around it or change dirt blocks to that grass. Obviously still does the small grass tall grass flower thing but will also just change the grass type.

This was just a random idea i had cause i remembered also that me and my friends have this survival world on education cause its free cause we got school accounts and we settled in a cheery blossom biome and it was very tiny so as we finished our house it was basically already half the biome taken up and as we kept building out it changed to a plains biome and we planted more cherry blossoms around the little hill the original biome was on and i started talking about how the trees dont look as good on plains grass than cherry grass and it was bugging me. We mostly planted those trees cause idk if you knew this but CHERRY BLOSSOMS DROP SO MANY FUCKING SAPLINGS ITS ACTUALLY CRAZY YOU CUT DOWN ONE TREE AND THATS LIKE HALF A STACK OF SAPLINGS

Anyway that was my idea hope you guys liked it

[fruit-of-infidelity]

♱ DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Ryuuto | Dark 05 ♱

⌜ Scene: Yui’s Bedroom ⌟

Yui: It’s nice to get a little bit of sun on my skin, once in a while! 

( Even if I have to wake up super early before school… )

I’m already feeling livelier than the past days.

― Yui places a bouquet into a vase. ―

Yui: ( And it was worth it to get these flowers to lighten up the mood a bit! )

Mm… Aah, they smell so sweet.

I think I’ll put them right by the window――

Ryuuto: ――Roses?

Yui: Kyaaa!

― Yui jumps and drops the vase. ―

Yui: My roses…!

( Petals and chips of porcelain are all over the ground… )

― Yui kneels to the ground, trying to clean. ―

Ryuuto: I think you mean my roses.

Yui: W-Well… whatever they are, please quit appearing like that!

Ryuuto: …And, my vase.

Yui: ( Moreover, please stop ignoring what I say…! )

I-I’m sorry… I got spooked.

Ryuuto: You would have only been spooked if you were up to no good. And, by the looks of it, that is exactly the case. 

Yui: ( That’s not the case at all! )

I was only trying to spruce up the place a little… It felt kind of darky and… kind of eerie, so I thought some flowers would――

Ryuuto: ――And it only led to you making a mess. 

Not only of this room I was so kind as to offer to you, but also our garden, no less.

Yui: Eh!?

( It’s not like I trimmed all the roses around for the bouquet! )

Ryuuto: However, that isn’t the most pressing matter here.

Stand up.

― Yui stands back up. ―

Ryuuto: What is, is the thought that you took it upon yourself to wander around, not only unattended, but without my permission.

Yui: Your…permission?

I didn’t know I was meant to ask, if I’m living here too…

Ryuuto: And, now you do. 

Yui: W-Well…

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈  I don’t need permission…!

Yui: I shouldn’t need to ask permission… 

I’m not your prisoner, you know…!

Ryuuto: You may not be my prisoner, Pet… But, you are still my prey, of whom I have been entrusted to look after.

Don’t you think it is rather selfish to overlook that?

Yui: ( But still...! )

　　❈  Then, may I? ⎨❤︎⎬

Yui: ( I suppose I am in his home, after all… )

May I go and collect some new flowers…? Only the mouth of the vase is chipped, so it’s still capable of holding a bunch of flowers…

Ryuuto: That is far more like it. All you need to do is remember your place, and everything will go just swimmingly.

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

Ryuuto: The more you comply, the easier it will be for things to come.

Yui: ( What is that supposed to mean…? )

Ryuuto: Although…I suppose you had a point before.

Yui: I did…?

Ryuuto: This place could do with a little bit of life…

Even you don’t quite cut it as the decoration.

Yui: Ehh!?

Ryuuto: Although, the colour rushing to your cheeks only makes the thought of using you in some way far, far more tempting〜

― Ryuuto walks toward the door. ―

Come. This time, I shall be choosing the bouquet.

Yui: W-Wait…! Outside, in the garden? Right now?

Ryuuto: Is there something wrong with that?

Yui: It’s just that… It’s still daylight, you know!

Sunlight and Vampires don’t mix, do they?

Ryuuto: Fufufu…

Aah, I see. Could it be that all your knowledge about Vampire strictly from children’s storybooks and fantasy novels?

We are unaffected by sunlight, and much of the other classic Vampire “repellents”.

Yui: ( Those other Vampires said the same thing… )

( So, seriously none of that is true, whatsoever? )

Ryuuto: Once you have picked your jaw up from the floor, follow me.

Yui: B-But what about these roses and the chips of porcelain…?

Ryuuto: What about them?

Are you so eager to clean them up that you will willingly pass up this offer of mine? In that case, please, be my guest〜

Yui: N-No, I just…

Ryuuto: Then, leave it to the servants.

Yui: Servants…!?

( What kind of a person has servants…? )

( Not only that, but all this time, he could have had them come and do this and that, rather than forcing me to do it? )

( Ryuuto-san really is… odd. )

Ryuuto: You’re spacing out once again. What is the matter now?

Yui: N-Nothing!

I’m coming now…!

― Yui follows Ryuuto to the door. ―

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

←  [ ✥ Dark 04 ✥ ] ⎥ [ ✥ Dark 06 ✥ ]  →

[clericofshadows]

I still have a lot of kaidan/zaeed stuff on the brain, so here's a fun little snippet of my next fic, which continues directly after you got me in a chokehold

Kaidan walked out of the building, breathing in the fresh, cool air.  To his surprise, Zaeed was already there, leaning against his motorcycle with a grin on his face.  “So, ready to grab some lunch?”

 “What are you in the mood for?” Kaidan asked, grabbing the helmet and putting it on.  

Zaeed climbed on the bike.  “Could go for some greasy fried food.”

Kaidan got on behind him, wrapping his arms around him and perching his head on his shoulder.  “Sounds good to me.  Have a place in mind?”

“I sure do.”  Zaeed took off from HQ.

They reached their destination relatively quickly, parking a block away.  Kaidan recognized the area, home to a hole-in-the-wall fried chicken place that was nothing short of excellent.  

“Good choice,” Kaidan said, reaching out for Zaeed’s hand as they walked across the street. 

Zaeed laced his fingers with his.  “You’re goddamn right.  Figured you’d be familiar.”

They walked inside the restaurant together, taking a seat at the nearest booth and glancing over the menu. 

A waiter came by and took their drink orders, both sticking to water for now. 

When he came back with their drinks, they decided to split a large order of spicy fried chicken with a selection of sides.  Kaidan opted for the mac and cheese and fried okra, while Zaeed ordered a basket of fries and onion rings.

“So,” Zaeed said after taking a long sip of his water.  “How did it go with Hackett?”

“I accepted the offer to join the N program and to continue Regis’s biotic plans,” Kaidan summarized.  “I’ll give you the full thing once we’re back home.”  Realizing what he just said, he widened his eyes and tried to backtrack, but Zaeed shushed him.

“It’s only been a day but I caught myself calling it home, too,” Zaeed admitted.  

Kaidan sheepishly rubbed his neck.  “It’s all moving really fast, but I guess we were always like that.”

“Even you and Regis?” He asked.  

“Not exactly.”  Kaidan took a drink of his water.  “We were friends for a while before we decided to get together, and he was the catalyst there.  Did we ever mention how we met?”

He shook his head.  “Not in detail.  Something about meeting in biotic training.”

That’s one way to put it.  Biotic training.

BAaT still wasn’t easy for him to talk about, even if Regis helped ease his pain about it.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, not elaborating further.  Soon, maybe, but not here.  “We were friends for a couple of years before he made the first move one day while visiting me and my family.”

The waiter dropped off their food.  They took a moment to grab something from each plate and basket.  Their conversation lulled as they ate, enjoying each other’s company and the good comfort food.

As they started to slow down, Kaidan had to ask, “What the hell is a Frozen Pyjak, and what does it have to do with you and Hackett knowing each other?”

Zaeed grinned, setting down his fork and wiping his hands on a napkin.  “I knew it was bugging the shit out of you.  So, it’s a type of drink, y’know, the kind of thing that a bartender makes if they are pissed off at someone.”

“Okay…” Kaidan trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows. “Go on,” he said, moving his hand in a circle.

“The bartender empties their spill pad into a glass, something fancy, and spruces it up with some kind of garnish so it doesn’t look like complete shit.  And they give that to whatever unsuspecting customer that pissed them off.  Terrible business.  Even I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.” Zaeed hesitated, tilting his head in thought.  “Well, maybe I would.  Anyway, I think it’s goddamn horrid.”

Kaidan almost felt a little nauseous at the idea of the drink.   “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.  So what does this have to do with–”

“I’m getting there,” Zaeed said, picking up his fork and stabbing at the remnants of his fries.  “I never told you this, and I probably should’ve, but back in the day, I was nearly Alliance.  Ultimately decided against it, but Hackett and I were in the same group.  Stayed friends even after I left.  Were more than that for a bit as he moved up in the ranks and I became involved in the Blue Suns.”

Kaidan wasn’t surprised to hear about the relationship part.  Something about the way Zaeed talked about him–a far off look in his eye–spoke of warm nostalgia.  However, hearing that Zaeed was almost Alliance threw him for a loop.

Feeling like part of the story was missing, Kaidan motioned for him to continue.  

“Most importantly, he was someone I could rely on after Vido shot me in the face,” Zaeed admitted, absentmindedly rubbing at his scar.  “Helped me out for a while before I got back out there.”

A deep bond, then.  Kaidan barely knew the details about the scar.  Regis had asked about it, and Zaeed told them about the betrayal and his vow for revenge.

Still, where does the drink fall into all of this?

“So, when I say that I can trust him, you can too.  Because our whole ‘thing’ started after someone tried to pull that drink shit on me.  Damn near started a bar fight over it.  Got ourselves kicked out, and well, if that someone was willing to lose a local haunt for me, then maybe he’s worth something,” Zaeed finished, a hint of a grin tugging on his lips.

Kaidan chose to not ask what Zaeed might’ve done to piss the bartender off.

“So, you two became friends all because of a fucked up drink?” Kaidan asked.

“Well, the three of us decided to fuck each other after you two got targeted by the vorcha mafia,” Zaeed shot back without missing a beat.  “And after I helped save your asses and almost losing my target.”

Well, he had a point.  Kaidan conceded, “Fair enough, but I remember us saving your ass when you misjudged how powerful vorcha biotics can be.”

“Agree to disagree.” Zaeed motioned with his fork, moving to spear the last of the fried okra from Kaidan’s plate.

“Hey!” He protested, fingers twitching to put the man in a slight Stasis, enough to stall his movement and steal his food back.  “You should’ve ordered more if you wanted some.”

“That was playing dirty,” Zaeed accused, pointing his fork at him.  “But smooth.  Barely felt like something was wrong before you zapped me out of it.”

Kaidan shrugged, chewing and swallowing the rest of the okra.  “That’s the point.  What are you going to do about it?”

“I think you have an idea.”

“Do I?” 

Zaeed pushed away his plate and tossed a credit chit on the table. "Yeah, you do.  There’s enough there to cover everything and some extra.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Right behind you."

[ahjdaily]

INTERVIEW: Albert Hammond Jr on His New Opus: Melodies on Hiatus (MonsterChildren)

For archival purposes, full text is stored below.

JUN 25, 2023 | BY NAZ KAWAKAMI

Where Albert Hammond Jr’s solo records, 2007’s,Yours To Keep, made us fall in love and 2018’s, Francis Trouble, was a consummation, his brand new album, Melodies On Hiatus, feels like a happy marriage being lived.  

The nineteen-track double record is a long listen by today’s standards - standards which encourage one-minute-thirty-second, double-hook double-chorus, TikTok-able garbage - but an enjoyable, nuanced, and fragrant one that doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is, which is to say, a good time. Featuring collaborations with GoldLink, Matt Helders, and Rainsford, to name a few, Melodies is an expansive, and developed multi-genre collection by an artist willing to spruce up, cut down, and build out in whichever direction the song takes them.

As a whole, when compared to previous albums, Melodies On Hiatus is more spacious, and, strengthened by or perhaps even made even possible through a lyrical collaboration with Simon Wilcox, draws from a deeper emotional well, although I do believe that even if Albert had abandoned linguistic reasoning all together - if he had taken a note from Sigur Ros’ heartwarmingly nonsensical Hopelandic and had chosen to develop a dialect all his own, the album’s layering, patience, and strength of melody - particularly on stand out tracks like ‘Caught by Night’ and ‘One Chance’ - would be enough to hit, to feel, and for the song’s emotional fingertips to graze your own. 

On the note of emotional fingertips grazing one’s own, Melodies On Hiatus flirts. It knows what it is and what it has to offer, and can accommodate you at any given mood with a confidence that one can’t help but find simultaneously elusive and alluring, and as we claim in our next print issue, it is an album to make friends to, to have sex to, or maybe both. It is for listening, but also for living. The double album floats but doesn’t mope, with moments of excitement and complexity that accent and balance the minutes of moodiness and tranquility. 

We recommend hitting play on the album embedded below before proceeding. By my best guess, I don’t think we’ve spoken to Albert since last Splendour in the Grass, so about a year ago.

By my best guess, I interviewed you around this time last year for Splendour Weekender. 

Was that a whole year ago?

Yeah, Splendour in the Grass is next month, I think.

Geez, yeah, I remember that. I was in a very different place. 

You were telling me about how you were listening to The Body on audiobook. You’re a big audiobook guy?

I don’t know if I’m a big audiobook guy. It helped me read more, so I guess it’s a good crutch for reading. Damn, what was that…

It was all about anatomy, I think. I realize this is a weird start to an interview.

No, not weird at all. Let me see where it was… Audible or… oh god damn it, I gotta sign in? This is bologna. 

Are you reading/listening to anything currently?

I mean, clearly not if I gotta sign in. I was listening to this book called, When Things Fall Apart, which was pretty good. It was pretty fascinating, just about this person whose life starts to crumble. It’s the kind of book where you could start at any chapter and it kind of fits somehow with whatever moment you’re in. I try pretty hard, and I do pretty well sometimes, but it’s only the occasional book that cuts through. There was this Japanese author…

Murakami?

Yeah! I read one of his books, and I started another and was like, ‘great, this is another book that I’ll get like a hundred pages in, and then I won’t have read for like five days, and then I won’t remember anything.’ But I read the whole thing and it was amazing, then picked up another one and failed. Work in progress, man, work in progress.

Yeah, that kind of ties into my greater thematic question which is: what media or art have you taken in recently that may have affected, inspired, or influenced this new album? 

Oh, just microdosing life. 

I saw that on a shirt in Japan once!

Microdosing life?

Yeah! 

I thought I thought of that. Damn. I mean, look, I think that if I sat down with nothing and created something and then I got asked about it afterwards, maybe I’d be able to understand the process, but because it’s like a little bit every day, and throughout your life you build an encyclopedia of different works that all push in different directions, it’s difficult to say. This record is tough. I had made Francis Trouble with a band and an alter ego and a frontman, and accepting that that’s what this was and not wanting to lean into a band name, and I thought we achieved what we wanted to achieve. I mean, I don’t think I ever achieve what I want to, I’m just saying that so it’s not so depressing. With this album, I thought it’d be fun to make a deconstruction of that. I always make demos and build on them and try to create a vibe and it changes, so I thought, ‘why don’t I just keep the demos and the drum machines?’ And there are some songs on this album that don’t have that, but a majority are like, a drum machine app I had on my phone. Just fun, vibey things. 

Sometimes it is really that simple. 

Sometimes it is! I liked that and I didn’t want to have to go any deeper than that, and songs started coming out over time. I thought this was going to come out ages ago. I started working on these songs back in 2019, so I thought I’d release them in maybe 2021, but then Covid happened, and the process slowed. But because this has been such a long process, I don’t remember many of the details of inspirations and what not. 

Do you think that you thrive in parameters? Was it easier to work within the confines of the capabilities of a drum machine app? 

Well I only used the app because I just had it and as I was taping demos, it was just quicker on my phone, but then it felt sort of right. If it sounds cool, it doesn’t matter where it came from. To some degree, I do feel good in parameters. In my mind, if you told me to write a story about whatever I want, I probably wouldn’t do the homework, but if you said to write a story in this place, my mind might have an easier time. I do push structures of songs but I do like understanding that there is a structure. I try to keep things as simple as possible so that I can see where things are boring and where they are exciting. A lot of the time when you’re writing, you can do things to the drums or guitar and it’ll sound more fun, but really it’s just not a great part. When you’re listening and everything is dumbed down, you can hear and be like, ‘this is where it gets boring. Why?’ and then you fix it. ‘Caught By Night’ was a song that we sort of pieced together and built up at the last minute and added a different drum machine, and it just worked. That, ‘Never Stop’, and this other song were the three songs at the very end that came in a burst even though the album was kind of done at fifteen songs, we just added another three. 

Even fifteen songs by today’s standard is a very substantial album. 

Couldn’t stop, dude. Couldn’t stop.

It’s interesting to me that you were writing while recording, I don’t hear a lot of people doing that.

I think that there’s always one really good song that happens when you’re recording. I’m constantly writing little things and putting them in voice memos. They aren’t songs, they’re just like, ideas. If I played them for you, you wouldn’t get what it is. There are just all these things that come up while you’re recording and in that space that you’re like, ‘oh there’s something here’ and you push on them, and some lead to another thing and you throw away the bit where it started, like when a rocket takes off into space and throws off that booster piece. The idea leads you to a better one. 

What is your editing process like? If you come up with a song last minute, do you just bump out other ideas?

Something that Julian told me a lot is that when you create something, you love it because you made it, and you have to sweep away stuff that isn’t as good as others. Those things don’t have to be gone forever, but you need to be able to see what is exciting. I have songs that I keep coming back to because I know that there is something there - it’s like your own personal puzzle. 

Are there any songs on this album that you’re like, ‘no one else likes this but I think it’s great, so fuck you all, it’s going on the album,’?

That’s a funny question. Ah man. It’s not that no one understands- we’re not there to kill something, we have long discussions. The biggest thing when learning to create is understanding that ideas are very fragile. You have to slowly take what this idea is trying to say and pull it out. You can record an awesome demo and then you go to record it and you murder it because you lose what it was about in the first place. I have no idea why that is, I think that that’s why producers are so sought after. It’s easy for an artist to overthink because maybe it’s perfect in their head but by being perfect, all the charm is gone. 

Someone told me years ago that if you are the artist, you shouldn’t be the one who decides when your song is ‘done’. You know what I mean? Because it’ll never be done. Collaboration is really important in that way, and that’s very present in this album with collaborations between you and GoldLink or Matt Helders.

Totally! I always need to talk things out. It’s not like because it’s my album that I’m not going to read the room and see how people are feeling about it. There’s a song from my album, Momentary Masters, called, ‘Caught by My Shadow’, where I knew that I wanted this riff as the whole song. Everyone was like, ‘this is just a part, right? There’s this and then something else comes?’ and I was like, ‘nah nah nah, the whole song is that.’ I knew that when it got to the end, that people would understand, and they did, but at the same time, I’ve had a lot of times where something is not working and the feeling is there not just with you but with the other players. The point is that when you’re writing, you aren’t trying to be right, you’re trying to not be mediocre. There’s no winning. The fun, the point, is in creating. I love melody and giving rhythm to it and building it out, and then it goes deeper and hits you in a way that makes you feel something. That’s bigger than words for me. Like in classical music, you feel it in your guts. It’s not about doing it my way, it’s about trying to do something that you think is great. 

The singular genius/lonely artist is such a romanticized trope in stories and in media, but it undermines the potential and importance and ubiquity of collaboration. Nothing is done in a vacuum.

I think that the people who are telling those stories aren't the ones creating. If you’re creating something like music, it is meant to be heard, but so is the experience and the journey of making it. You’d want to share it, no? Share in the process. I never liked when people give too much credit or assign too much to one person, or especially give guff to someone. Like when people talk about Ringo that way. Really? Do you know how delicate it is to be in a band in a room? Put another drummer in there and see if that chemistry will still be there. I don’t think it would at all. You know when you throw a party and you’re trying to create a vibe, and one weird guy throws it all off? That’s the same thing as when you’re trying to find people to create stuff with. Maybe some people do have a moment and see it all, and that’s great, but it’s also very lonely. People want to share. 

Do you think that that’s a motivator for you to make things? Because you want to share?

I don’t know… I don’t know why I am doing this.

Yeah, what the hell are you doing, man?

I remember being a kid and falling in love with Buddy Holly and that you could do that as a profession. It just seemed so magical. It’s just something that I do little by little every day. Like if I have a day where I’m like, ‘I don’t want to write, I am done, I am spent.’ And then I start playing something and my immediate thought is that I can't wait to create this and share it. 

You’ve been working on this album since around 2019. You’ve put in a lot of time and thought. What are your hopes with this album?

I guess besides the hope of it connecting with people, I kind of have reached what I wanted in simply making it. Everything after that is out of my control. I can’t convince anyone to like it or to feel it. I really just sit innocently between each song and create a world that I’d want to hear, or create something new that I haven’t done before. I wasn’t trying to make a double record either, so maybe I’m stuck in that, still. I had twenty songs and was like, ‘there’s no way I’m writing twenty lyrical sets.’ I didn’t take the 20th off just to have one less; I like lyrics, I love lines. I’m just not great at putting those lines into a whole. Sometimes I really nail what I want to, but when I was staring down the barrel of twenty songs, I didn’t even know where to begin. It’s weird to have written these songs throughout all of this time, having been in so many places in my life, and now the album is out and everything still connects;  it’s been amazing. So you’re asking about what I consider success or what I want for this. That, to me, feels like more success than I thought I would get out of it.