#also my first time ever drawing am accordion

[milfweirdal]

I'm finally actually trying to learn how to draw weird al's face. Unfair that you have to draw things in order to be able to draw them. anyway

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Cajun Spice 1989 Cajun / Folk / Zydeco

Well, folks, it looks like our first comp of this new year is taking us on a trip down to southern Louisiana, aka Acadiana, where Cajun music, in some form or fashion, has been a fixture of the region's culture since the latter part of the 1700s. And if you've ever wondered why Cajun people are called Cajuns in the first place, it's because they originally hailed from Acadia—what are now parts of maritime Canada, Québec, and northern Maine—and if you chop off the front 'A' from 'Acadian' and then say the remainder of the word quickly enough, what you'll inevitably end up saying is 'Cajun.' Simple as!

But why the Acadians didn't end up staying in Acadia was because of a terrible war, namely the Seven Years' one, whose resolution saw the French-speaking territory left in the hands of the British. The British then forced the Acadians into exile and a lot of them ended up migrating all the way down south to lower Louisiana, where, despite France having ceded the land to Spain by that point, they were still welcomed anyway.

So the reason why Louisiana has the most French speakers out of any other state in the Union, rather than the states that border the French-speaking provinces of Canada itself, is pretty much because of that period of Acadian migration. Pretty interesting, no?

But now we forge on to more modern times:

Although Cajun music predates Louisiana's admission into the Union, it didn't really gain much in the way of a national traction until the middish-1980s, which was a time that had also seen America writ large develop a fixation with Cajun food as well. And if you're going to really try to enjoy the cuisine, what better ambiance to pair it with than that same culture's music, right?

Which brings us to this little late 80s comp from roots and world music label Rounder Records here, who, in the earlier part of the decade, had really started to develop their own Cajun stable of artists. Rounder had released a few comps that consisted purely of both Cajun music and its sister genre of zydeco before this one, but all of those releases had originated from the 70s, and almost all of them also consisted of only two or three acts each. This 1989 release, on the other hand, Cajun Spice, was the first one from Rounder to be issued since Cajun music had really started to draw interest in the US outside of Louisiana, and the list of musicians on it was far lengthier too.

But now here's the bad news: it took until getting a few songs deep into this comp for me to finally realize, that out of every instrument that I've ever heard in my life, the one that I might have a most visceral dislike for is the accordion. And that might make my German ancestors furiously turn over in their own graves, but there is just something about the type of sound that emanates out of those strange contraptions that feels so extremely lame and corny to me. And I know that I'm probably not alone in feeling this way, but guess what the lead instrument in Cajun music happens to be. Yep, that's right. The accordion! 😩

Now, I'm sure it's one thing to actually go down to Acadiana and immerse yourself in the culture for a night of good fun, which would include getting down to this unique form of folk-dance music that's found a way to keep on existing, but outside of a setting like that, I don't think I wanna hear much in the way of accordion-led music ever again. At the very least, I've definitely had my fill of it for this year alone 😅.

But with all of that said, and despite my personal distaste for this stuff in general, I can still tell that the tunes on this album are very well-made. The musicians are clearly gifted and what they're playing is definitely infectious...if you can find a way to stand it, which I really can't. But if you're way more tolerant of a prominent accordion than I am, or if you already like Cajun music, or if you're just interested in hearing it for the first time, then I definitely recommend this album. AllMusic gave it four and a half out of five stars and I can definitely see why, because all of it is clearly quality stuff.

No highlights.

[vossn]

tagged by @swanfloatieknight tysm!!! 💚

Are you named after anyone? It's a 50/50 tie up between "named myself after myself" (will not elaborate) and "named after a Bloodborne boss". My ex noted this down as "I am unsure how to feel about this considering how many times I have killed you."

Do you have kids? Two sons, one named Marian with behavioral problems (a very long cat plush) and one adopted one named Frank (Bison plush) but he lives with his other dad. I don't have any human ones and I don't intend to do anything about it.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Online, yes, offline not as much.

When was the last time you cried? Briefly at the medieval fair, because I was explaining to someone how my dissociation has gotten better but there are some things that I might lose after coming to terms with who I am. I jokingly referred to it as "the fog" but when I said something along the lines of "I know it will cost me, but I don't care, I am not going back into the fog ever again" I was crying all of a sudden. I caught myself after 3 seconds.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Any notable features in the face that aren't the eyes. With most people in my life I have no idea what their eye colour is.

Eye colour? green-brown

What sports do you/have played? I dabbled in everything as a kid, Karate, Zumba, I did nothing for long. When I got older I first picked up running, then swimming, then lifting weights and kept with those for a long while. I fell off the train when I started uni and did archery for a while, I am now getting back into swimming and will also pick up weights again at some point.

Any special talent? I seem trustworthy. This means drunks, old people, and people in distress like to tell me their secrets even when we have known each other for a total of 3 seconds. It doesn't sound like much of a talent but it really works and its so random. Oftentimes the people I am talking to will pause and will ask themselves "why am i even telling you this?" and buddy I don't know.

Where were you born? Germany

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy ending

Do you have any pets? no

How tall are you? 6 ft / 183 cm

What are your hobbies? writing, drawing, crafting of all kinds, long walks, playing the accordion, botany, perfume

Favorite subject in school? English and Art

Dream job? This is a very bad time to ask me because brother, I will do anything as long as its preferably remote and not in customer service. I am that desperate to get out of academia.

Tagging @definitely-not-iorveth @between-thepages @kiriele <3 no pressure

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 295: So How Are You Holding Up (Because I’m a Potato)

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi randomly and graciously decided to answer all of our long-standing questions about Mr. Compress, including “is he secretly hot,” “is he secretly related to that Robin Hood thief guy,” and “is he ever going to use his quirk to chain chomp a hole right through his ass??” with the answer to all three being “yes, of course.” As for our follow-up questions, “sir, is Mr. Compress going to die,” and “holy shit,” his answers were, respectively, “wait and see,” and, “I understand, really I do, but that isn’t actually a question.” Well, he’s got us there.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi finally ends the War arc with the speed and grace of an overworked college student scrambling to BS their entire midterm essay with five minutes left before the deadline. Deku’s Spidey Sense is all “what up, I exist, p.s. you’re in danger kid” like oh shit, no, you think?? Compress is all “I’m not gonna die but I am going to pass out and be captured” and honestly, at this point I’ll take it. Spinner is all “Tomura you can have this one last Souvenir Hand I found that was in the oven for too long” and slaps it on his face because HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE HELPFUL, SHUT UP. Dabi is all, “[currently in a marble].”Tomura is all “actually, I’m AFO.” AFO is all “hahahahaha” and summons all of the remaining Noumus to cart him and Spinner and Dabi off to safety. Deku is all “DAMMIT TOMURA I’M REALLY MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING, AND I QUOTE, ‘AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE’, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, GET THIS, I TOTALLY WANT TO SAVE YOU TOO! LMAO ISN’T THAT WILD.” Fandom is all “OH MY GOD, NO WAY, is what we would say if we had literally never met Deku before, I guess.” And then the arc just ends, lol. See you in the new year, kids.

WAKE UP, LINK... I MEAN, DEKU

jesus christ Vestiges, not a one of you guys has got any chill at ALL. LISTEN TO ME. THIS CHILD IS DEAD. HE IS DECEASED. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S LYING THERE ALL DAZED WITH HIS ARMS AND LEGS TURNED INTO GREEN PUDDING AND YOU’RE ALL “GET UP LAZYBONES” LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD. CAN HE JUST REST?? CAN YOU ALL JUST CALL IT A DRAW WITH THE VILLAINS ALREADY SO WE CAN FINALLY END THIS TRAUMATIC ARC AND MOVE ON TO THE NEW “TRIAGE AND ROBOT LIMBS FOR EVERYBODY” ARC INSTEAD

LIE BACK DOWN YOU IDIOT!!

no you didn’t pass out because of a ~heatwave~, you passed out because he set you on fire while you were out here shooting Blackwhip out of your mouth with your SPINDLY ACCORDION LIMBS dangling uselessly from you like WINDCHIMES you RIDICULOUS BOY

“where’s Todoroki-kun” oh shiiiiiiit. right. god I hope someone caught him. BAKUGOU OWES HIM A FAVOR, HOW ‘BOUT IT

OH NEVER MIND HE APPARENTLY CAUGHT HIMSELF??

Todoroki Shouto has really highkey been the MVP of the entire fourth quarter of this arc. he deserves the world, and odds are all Horikoshi’s going to give him are lasting trauma, and a souvenir shirt that says “I survived this stupid arc and all I got was this t-shirt”

anyway now Deku’s being hit by a Lightning Bolt of Realization or some such? idk what’s going on, but I bet you it’s related to Tomura waking up again

OH SHIT??

LOL WHAT. THAT’S IT?? SPIDEY-SENSE?? I mean we all predicted Spidey-Sense being one of his quirks like ages ago, so Well Done, Us, I guess

but also, seriously?? all of that drama and intrigue about the fourth user’s quirk and this is what we end up with? what was All Might being so cagey about then? how did this dude die? I need answers goddammit. new, better answers lol

maybe it’s something to do with the fact that Deku keeps talking about how his head hurts?

I mean, for Deku of all people to be all “ouch that hurts”, it must really fucking hurt, you know? like oh my god Deku are you dying

lmao and SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO APPARENTLY DON’T FEEL PAIN

this man is out here FROLICKING, half-naked and half-torsoed, AND STILL FEVERISHLY RATTLING OFF HIS MONOLGOUE. YOU HAVEN’T EVEN ESCAPED YET YOU DINGUS. did watching Dabi pour bleach over his head inspire you to think of interesting new ways you could abuse your own body for the sake of Theatrics?? why are villains Like This

anyway so now Mirio’s punching him, because what else are you even supposed to do in this situation

I read this speech bubble three times in a row very carefully this time around just to make sure I was reading the words right. and then looked for a T/L note below. and there was none. whatever RHA, at least you all are out here enjoying yourselves

wait what?

I guess he hasn’t woken up yet after all?? so then wtf is Deku’s Spidey Sense getting all worked up about. I mean to be fair there’s danger all around them still so having a Spidey Sense in this kind of situation is kind of like bringing a smoke alarm to a BBQ

now what

wait did he put them back in the marble?? or is that panel just meant to show us how they were in the marble earlier?? Horikoshi please make this less confusing, I’m already having trouble staying focused as it is. and on top of everything else Compress is cascading blood like Niagara Falls right now and I’m starting to wonder if you really are going to kill him off

anyway so Mirio is still in mid-punch, and now he’s reaching out to punch Spinner with his other hand. heh. Mirio please be careful Tomura is right there, and I swear to god Horikoshi IF HE LAYS A HAND ON HIS SWIRLY BLOND HEAD SO HELP ME I WILL MAIL YOU A VIAL OF MY TEARS

okay seriously what the hell is happening

when you attach?? everyone?? to your body?? whose body?? who is this??

oh wait okay it’s a flashback to Tomura talking about his Hands

lmao this is so disjointed, I can’t tell what’s a flashback and what isn’t and whose thoughts these are lmao I give up. I’m just going to fire up a bunch of question marks until this starts making some goddamn sense. ???????

??????

????????

-- !!!!!!!!!!!

okay hold up. so did Spinner just slap Tomura’s last remaining Signature Fashion Hand onto his face just now for absolutely no reason?? is that what’s going on?? and fuck me but it actually worked too, lmao. is your buddy unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli?? no problem, just slap ‘em in the face with a burnt and shriveled severed hand. works every time

p.s. I SWEAR TO GOD HORIKOSHI. IF YOU TOUCH MIRIO!!! HE’S A GOOD BOY LEAVE HIM ALONE

??????????

OKAY WELL. I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WTF IS HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST MIRIO’S NOT DEAD. KACCHAN GOT BLOWN AWAY THOUGH SOB. HOW IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF EXPLOSION MURDERS WOULD BE MURDERED BY AN EXPLOSION WHILE I WAS BUSY SAYING “OH MY GOD”

ohhhhhh, okay. so this is AFO’s narration

and that’s a partial answer to the question of “why did AFO bother raising Tomura up as his heir if he was planning on taking over his body the whole time.” apparently it makes it easier to control him. joy :’)

also this image of a potato wearing a Tomura wig is sending me fjkllkhl

oh my god he summoned all the Noumu to him like Aquaman and his sea creatures. this whole situation just keeps on getting better

-- oh hell no. oh fuck me, fucking shit

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I’M SORRY SPINNER, TOMURA CAN’T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW

oh my god. I fucking hate everything right now oh my god

I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT WHAT DEKU’S SPIDEY SENSE WAS WARNING HIM ABOUT, THEN ಠ_ಠ

fucking great!! so I guess nobody is getting a happy ending today, then. the heroes got their asses handed to them (sorry Compress, it’s a figure of speech, didn’t mean to be disrespectful); Deku and Kacchan died; Shouto’s evil brother came back from the dead to ruin his life; everyone and their dog lost various limbs; and the villains have now lost Twice (dead), Compress and Machia (presumably going to be captured), and now their fearless leader’s body has been completely taken over by AFO, which is such an unsexy development that it managed to completely undo all of the Mr. Compress Sexiness from last week. goddamn it

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO END IT LIKE THIS

up close Hadou’s face is looking pretty rough. :/ that’s going to scar over isn’t it. at least she’ll look like a badass

meanwhile I appreciate that Horikoshi drew what looks to be a little puff of air next to Kacchan’s mouth, just to reassure us all that he’s not actually dead. that’s fine. you just lie there then. also his wound really is in the exact same place as All Might’s and it’s giving me all kinds of feels you guys but whatever I’m not gonna sit here dwelling on it all day

AND POOR SHOUTO. IS HE STILL CRYING OMG. AND ENDEAVOR, WAY TO DO NOTHING STILL. THE ALL TIME CHAMP OF SITTING AROUND AND STARING, GOOD FOR YOU

ARE YOU FOR REAL, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

(－‸ლ)

lol

“peace out, loser.” “SHUT YOUR TRAP, HO.” quality encounter right here

anyway so he’s blasting Deku with something and Deku’s just flying back all unconscious-like. so then, what even was the point of all that, huh

oh I see, it was to lead us into one last Deku monologue to close this arc out

oh my god Deku if you say you’re going to save him I will turn around and do a cannonball into a ballpit of feels right now, don’t do this to me

OH SNAP I THINK HE’S GONNA THOUGH

DID HE LOOK LIKE HE NEEDED SAVING?? I MUST CONFESS YOU AND I ARE OF A MIND HERE, YOUNG BROCCOLI. YES IN SPITE OF ALL THE MURDERS. WHAT CAN I SAY IT’S COMPLICATED

by the way I just have to point out here, that after all of those impossibly pretty close-ups of Hawks’s unconscious face, Horikoshi really did my child dirty here lmao

he looks like a squished cockroach. THAT’S MY BABY BOY

and it looks like the cavalry is finally on its way too! took them long enough. so I guess they can take care of any of the remaining Noumu stragglers, but first let Deku finish his speech. listen up Deku I really need you to say something cool and iconic to cap off this thus-far admittedly underwhelming Last Chapter Of The Year, here

AHHHHHHH YES HE REALLY DID IT HE SAID THE THING

well he thought the thing, anyway. close enough. I’ll take it!

so this is really the end of the arc then! or at least I hope, good lord. anyways, all right then so let’s do a quick status check:

it looks like the Noumu are hauling Tomura and Spinner away to safety, but it doesn’t look like they managed to save Machia or Compress. this honestly might be in Compress’s best interests though. the heroes can get him some medical help along with Kacchan and Endeavor and everyone else

Dabi is apparently hidden inside Spinner’s scarf, but do they have any way of releasing him without Compress there to undo the quirk? will he be all right in there. like how is he going to get food and water and air and stuff lol. does it wear off after a bit? can Compress undo it when he wakes up, even if he’s in custody? is there a distance limit on it?

and Skeptic was presumably turned into a marble as well, but Compress didn’t bother mentioning him at all. nobody cares about poor Skeptic lol

and bonus AFO theories status check:

Dad for One - AFO called Deku worthless and hasn’t seemed to take the least bit of interest in him despite getting to see his fancy SIXQUIRKS up close and personal. so if he is his dad he sure as heck is a terrible one, that’s all I can say

All for One for All/Deku is a horcrux - well the Spidey Sense seems to offer an alternative explanation to why Deku could sense AFO’s presence, but on the other hand it doesn’t explain why AFO was able to sense Deku’s as well (seeing his dreams and such). still thinking there’s a connection there, guys, idk

AFO is the final villain - five words for you: “EVERYTHING IS FOR MY SAKE.” is that concrete enough yet lol. pretty sure this arc marked both the beginning and end of Tomura’s brief stint as the Big Bad. Deku’s got it in his mind to save him now somehow, and we all know what happens when Deku starts getting determined to save people. look out AFO

as for the heroes, they’re all varying degrees of Fucked and I think it’s honestly too much to even take stock of at this point. maybe if I get a rush of hyperfixation in the next couple days or so I’ll do a separate post analyzing the impact of this arc and where things currently stand and where they might be headed from here

but in the meantime, ngl, this chapter was kind of a hot mess lmao. but whatever, I don’t even care because at least he managed to get all of it done within the allotted 17 pages, meaning that next week (or rather two weeks from now, sob) we really can get moving onto the aforementioned Triage arc! BRING ON THAT ANGST. I am so fucking hyped goddammit

[gnocchighoul]

peach bubbles & cherry wine

Summary:

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring.

“Now be a good girl and spread your legs.” 

A/N: inspired by a convo about Lucifer’s bathroom with @thedemonstherapist​​ , and a drunk anon :D (definitely go check out her blog, she wrote something for this concept as well and it’s *chefs kiss*)

AO3 Portal

“Don’t move.”

“If I don’t I’ll drown!” 

“Just—fuck, here.” Lucifer hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you up, just slightly out of the water. He straightens out his legs, still holding you up with the ease of a bodybuilder lifting an orange, and yeah, you’re a little bit jealous at how strong he is.

Warm water closes around your hips as he gently lowers you back into his lap, and you can’t help but think about all of the things you could accomplish if you had that supernatural strength. For instance: you could probably lift a car, all by yourself. Or a really heavy bookcase. A sturdy one, made from really expensive wood. Pink ivorywood. Dalbergia. Or—

Oh, what is wrong with you? Who even cares about all of the theoretical things you could do with unimaginable strength when you are literally butt ass naked in a tub with Lucifer! And you accomplished this all on your own, with only the vastly underrated power of puppy eyes. 

Also, wine. So much wine. 

You swirl what’s left in your glass—the red liquid twisting in a dark vortex. It swallows up the dim light of the bathroom—looks more black than red. You know that color intimately. It’s nearly the same shade as Lucifer’s eyes—gleaming bright in the dark room as he dripped cherry wine into the hollow of your belly button—lapped at the red juice with his fleshy tongue and got you all sticky.

Which is how you ended up here, lounging together in warm, bubbly water. Not that you’re complaining.

Honestly, if you had known how nice Lucifer's personal bathroom is, you would have set out on your quest to date bone him so much sooner. 

It’s a lot like his room—far too much black. All doom and gloom and gold metal. Black floors. Black walls, carved of marble with gold veining, and a few floor to ceiling mirrors. The ceiling is a dizzying mural, saturated with (you guessed it) more black, but white and gray too. Sometimes, if you stare long enough—you think you can see shapes dancing in the fog of it. 

(Though that may just be a hallucination conjured up by your alcohol addled brain.)

The best thing about Lucifer’s bathroom though, by a landslide, is the massive tub situated right in the center of the room. Carved entirely of smoky quartz and the size of a small pool, you could quite literally spend hours lazing around in bubble bath bliss. Which you do, quite often. It’s borderline an obsession at this point.

(The first time you commandeered the bathtub, you had read an entire book in one sitting—as you were finishing up the last chapter, Lucifer had burst into the room all feathery and freaked out and totally convinced that you had managed to somehow drown yourself. A fair assumption—in his defense, you had been awfully quiet.)

With a tub like this, you would never use the shower again. And yet, for some horrible and awful reason, Lucifer insists that the shower is better. (Which is actually quite nice as well, but that’s neither here nor there.) When you had interrogated him about it, he just casually confessed that he hardly ever used the beautiful tub. Said something about 'showers are just more practical’. Pah. What does he know? Nothing, apparently.

But now? Well, it isn’t a challenge to coax him in with you.

Lucifer tips his head back against the cool ledge of the tub, eyes sliding shut. “Who’s idea was this anyways?” 

You down the rest of your wine, scrunching your face like an accordion when the bitter flavor bursts on your tongue. “Yours.” 

“That can’t be right.”

“Well it’s not left."

Lucifer groans loudly, acting like your totally great joke caused him real physical pain, and you tch at him.

You lean into him—rest the back of your head on his shoulder and set your empty wineglass aside on the broad, flat rim of the tub. His right arm snakes around your waist, tugging you up tight against his chest, fingertips tracing shapes into the side of your ribs and sending shivers racing across your skin.

You eye the mountain of white bubbles in front of you—lift a poofy handful out of the water. The smell of peaches brightens the room—all sun kissed and sweet.

You wonder if Lucifer is drunk enough to let you give him a bubble beard. 

"Hey, babe—"

"Don't even think about it." 

"Wh—you don’t even know what I was going to say!" 

Lucifer nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Keep the bubbles away from my face."

"...You’re such a killjoy sometimes." 

“Am I?” He threads his fingers through your hair—pulls slowly to tilt your head to the side and ghosts his lips over your neck, pausing to nip at your pulse point. Slides one hand over your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his soft fingers.

You feel it again, then—the pleasant ache still between your thighs, softened by the water's warmth settling into your body.

Lucifer bites down on your neck with sharp incisors, pulling a soft mewl from you.

You squirm. “Again?” 

You’re not actually surprised. Saturdays are devoted just to the two of you—marathon fucking and unwinding from the weekly chaos. It’s a necessary tradition, especially after a week like this previous one. You had barely seen your beloved, thanks to his boyfriend keeping him busy .  

(Lu has made it very clear that Diavolo isn’t his side piece, but like. Would it really be that bad if he was? You could invite him over for your Saturday Fuckfest, which is a very appealing thought. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that princely cake?)

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Fuck. He sure as hell doesn’t need to tell you twice.

His fingertips skate down your stomach, deftly moving lower to brush teasingly over your clit and your head lolls back with a strangled little mewl. You turn to the side—he captures your lips with his own, swallows down your little cries. Tastes like cherry wine and dark chocolate. 

It’s too much, and not nearly enough. The damp slick of his chest against your bare back, his hand cupping your breast. He toys with you slowly, teasingly, pressing only the lightest of touches to your clit, and you want—need—more. You rock your hips back, right up against his aching cock and he hisses—pinches your nipple and slips his fingers inside of you in tandem, stretching you wide and exploring as you desperately grind against his hand.

He spent all day teasing you—pushing you to the brink and then taking his sweet time unraveling you. Playing you like a finely tuned instrument until tears pricked at your eyes and you dissolved into a begging, whimpering puddle. That fire still burns in your belly—kindled back to life, red hot and unforgiving as he presses his fingers deeper inside of you.

When it comes to fucking, Lucifer is far more patient than you are—something he’s proven a thousand times over. He enjoys it—breaking you. Ruining you. Pushing you to the brink and leaving you there, time and time again. 

But right now—you want more than just his skillful fingers.

You squirm out of Lucifer’s grip, confusing him for all of two seconds, until you turn around and straddle his strong thighs. Bubbles stick to your arms and tummy like little clouds. 

“I want you inside me.” you pout.

“Was I just not?” he says, cheekily, and you glare.

He suddenly bucks his hips up once into your own, threatening your already questionable balance—nearly sends you careening face first into his shoulder. Sudsy water sloshes over the dark rim of the tub as you steady yourself by placing both hands on his chest. You glare at his smug fucking face. 

His eyes, vibrant and jarring, meet yours—sparkling with delight. Crimson shot through with so much black that you’re not sure where the pupil ends anymore. 

You grab his chin with your slick hand—dig your fingers into his jaw and pull him into a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and heat. Relish the taste of his mouth and the slide of his lips, wordlessly begging for what you want.

He grins against your mouth. “Such a needy little thing.” 

You don’t entertain him with a reply—just grind your hips down on his cock, catching your throbbing clit, leaving you keening.

He sucks the plush of your bottom lip into his mouth and bites as you sink down on the heavy weight of cock, inch by agonizing inch until he’s buried to the hilt. He murmurs praise against your lips as he fills your pussy to the brim—sends white hot sparks shooting up your spine. You burn. 

Experimentally, you roll your hips. Lucifer meets you halfway—always does. Grinds his hips languidly into yours, easing the painful stretch of his cock between your walls into a pleasant fullness. There’s no urgency—he’s already ravaged your sweet, tight cunt. 

Lucifer feasts on your mewls—swallows them whole as he thrusts his hips up, sloshing more water over the tub rim. His hands dig into your hip as he grinds up into you with sharp, short jabs—buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard. Draws blood to the surface and lingers there. Leaves behind berry-red marks. 

Your nipples rub against his chest and you grip his shoulders—dig your nails into the taut, firm lines of muscle. Your thighs tremble as you bounce on his cock, rocking down faster—needy. 

Heat spirals and coils in your belly, winding tighter and tighter until your blood is singing with it, leaving you breathless and dizzy and alight. He snakes a hand down between your legs—fingers finding your clit and your hips spasm, squeezing him so tight that it pulls a hiss from him.

Your climax hits you hard—steals your breath away and makes your vision all fuzzy and dark. Your walls clench and Lucifer pulls your hips down, again and again and again, spurred on by your gasping and whimpering. Dragging your tight, warm pussy on his pulsating cock as he floods your womb with his seed.

As his cock softens inside of you, he releases that bruising grip on your hips—tugs you into a close embrace with absolutely no possibility of escape, squishing your slippery breasts against his chest. Heart drumming a furious beat beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his arms. 

For a few beats, it’s silent. You can tell that he wants to say something—he’s practically buzzing with words unspoken.

You lean back to see his face properly and tap the pad of your pointer finger against his chest. “Out with it, handsome.” 

“You know that I love you.” A statement, followed up by a softer, “Right?”

A smile tugs at your lips. As if that’s even a question.  

“Well I'd certainly hope so, because you're stuck with me. Forever.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth slide upwards into that dazzling grin you love so damn much. Then he shifts his hips, reminding you that he's still very much inside of you, and nudges his cock over that little patch inside of you that makes you see sparks but is also far too sensitive right now. Your breath leaves you in one great big whoosh and you bite down hard on your swollen lip.

"You're so mean." 

Lucifer hums in agreement, looking far too thrilled by your reaction. Presses a kiss to your jaw and murmurs, "Say it back."  

"What?" 

He leans back. Searches out your gaze and meets it with his own. "Say that you love me." 

Oh.

You would think he'd be reassured by the fact that his dick is literally still inside you, but… you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to use your words, too. 

You hold his hand—link your pinky finger with his own and say, "I love you."

It’s a promise. 

You relax back into his arms, content to just sit quietly amidst the peach-scented bubbles and confessions.

…For about ten seconds.

“So… About that bubble beard…”

Lucifer scoffs. Presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there. 

He really does love you.

[novelconcepts]

Jamie & Dani short prompt- Online Dating au meeting online and being from bad past relationship. Thank u

This is probably a bad idea. It is, isn’t it? Almost certainly.

Why is she here?

Dani Clayton has been playing this particular set of thoughts--bad idea, terrible idea, why would you do this?--on repeat for three days. Ever since setting up that dating profile. Ever since realizing there isn’t much use in setting up a dating profile if you’re not going to use it. 

Oh, it’s all fun and games, building the thing. Find a photo that accentuates all the best parts of your face--Dani, after an hour of careful consideration, wound up going with one that accentuated her hair, more than anything, but she suspects the same idea counts. Then, the profile. What do you like? Teaching, long walks, new experiences, bad coffee. What don’t you like? 

Men, she’d thought, and snorted aloud into her wine before settling on: Deep water, accordion music, expectations, being called Danielle. 

A little more flourish, tipsy keystrokes, a casually-framed short-version of her life. Perfect. And then...well, then you hit the publish button, don’t you? You decide, for better or worse, to jump off this diving board and see just how far you can stand to swim before the energy gives out on you.

The faces appearing before her hadn’t been bad, certainly. Pretty, most of them. Interesting, a few. Still, she hadn’t swiped right on any--once or twice, because she’d forgotten which way meant yes please, but mostly because no one seemed quite...right. Which, she’d thought, was silly. The whole point of an app like this is to cast as many nets as possible and see what comes up. The whole point is to have fun. 

But every time she’d hovered over a promising image, a woman who likes dogs, or plays the violin, or goes rock-climbing in her spare time, she’d thought of him. Eddie. Who had taken one yes to a single date, and tried to make a whole life with her out of it. 

Eddie, who had taken her two decades to pull away from. 

What if the women here were the same? Not Eddie, exactly, but--presumptive. What if they believed a swipe-right was as good as a marriage proposal? What if she got bound up in conversation, and then a date, and then a relationship with someone else who just didn’t fit right?

Left. Left. Left. 

And then: the mistake.

She hadn’t meant to swipe right. Exactly. She hadn’t planned, maybe is the better way of putting it, on swiping right. She’d only wanted to look at the woman’s profile a little longer. Only wanted to inspect the facets this woman had put out on display with almost resigned simplicity. 

Some people, Dani had by now realized, wrote poetry and paragraphs to describe themselves. 

Jamie Taylor had bullet points.

“Gardener. English. Likes: Plants. Stories. Tea. Dislikes: Bullshit.”

The end. That had been quite literally the sum of it. Gardener. English. No bullshit.

But the picture, somehow, Dani hadn’t been able to look away from. Not because of carefully-arranged lighting, not because of a curated model-clean image--but because the woman appeared to have posted the photo almost under duress. It came in profile, as though someone else had done the job, her head turned toward the camera as if interrupted. Her hands were buried in a flower pot. Her clothes were simple--a tank top, a silver chain resting against the jut of collarbones, a pair of worn-looking jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes--some fascinating color Dani couldn’t quite place--looked somewhere between amused and irritated. 

She looked real. 

Stupid, Dani thinks now--because that was probably the idea, wasn’t it? This woman, Jamie, had planned to look exactly this way. Real. Vexed at the idea of putting herself out there. Reluctantly available. 

It was a ploy, certainly--but one that seems to be working, because not only did Dani accidentally-not-accidentally swipe right, she found herself texting the woman. For hours. She’d expected much less, had figured this Jamie person would be as brief in text as she had been in bio, but...

Jamie had talked to her. Willingly. Teasingly, with more humor than truth, maybe, but with no sign at all that she was sick of Dani’s questions, bad jokes, nervous assessment that I really don’t do this, I honestly don’t get it. 

I don’t, either, Jamie had replied, and that had felt like enough of a reason to keep testing the waters. Enough of a reason to keep the conversation going back and forth, back and forth, until nearly two in the morning.

Shit, she’d said. I need to be at work in four hours. 

Shame, Jamie had replied, her tone already searingly familiar over text. Own your own business, make your own hours. Far wiser approach. 

I’ll make a note of it for when I found an elementary school, Dani had replied, laughing. She hadn’t said she’d already been in bed for an hour, the phone resting on the pillow beside her head so she wouldn’t miss the buzz of a new message. It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, with wine-warmed blood and the happy haze of good conversation. Jamie made her laugh. Jamie put her at ease. Jamie might not have been real, but she felt real, and that was good. 

Better than anything she’d felt in years, if she was honest with herself. 

Still, when the next day had come and gone with no message, she’d thought, Fair enough. Jamie had been good virtual company for one night. It was more than she’d expected to get out of this app.

Far more than she’d expected, particularly when Thursday night rolled around and her phone buzzed.

Teacher, yeah? No school on Saturday?

Correct, Dani had replied, as amused by the out-of-left-field text as she was irritated with how her stomach had flipped over upon receiving it. You have figured out the complexity of the American school system. 

I am a genius, Jamie sent back, followed quickly by: Drinks tomorrow night? 

Drinks. A thing that people do. A thing that adult people do for date reasons. 

She isn’t real, she’d thought, even as her thumb was punching back: How’s 8? Miller’s?

A mistake. Definitely a mistake. Because the app had been a lark, and the conversation had been too easy, and the fact that she can’t quite pick out the colors in Jamie’s eyes from a single photo is making her crazier than she’d like to admit. 

A mistake, saying yes. A mistake, suggesting the local pub-like establishment around the corner, whose beer-and-burger specials had kept her fed on too many evenings spent working late. A mistake, because once this goes south--as it’s absolutely bound to, as everything Eddie-shaped always has--she’s going to lose her favorite hangout in the deal, too.

And yet: here she is. Standing at the door, wondering if the outfit chosen for the evening festivities--tight jeans, pink blouse, hoop earrings--is too much or not nearly enough. 

What am I doing here?

Maybe, she thinks with mingled alarm and hope, she won’t even have showed up. Maybe it’s all part of the ruse: look approachable, look human and normal, look a little too beautiful in the most grounded way possible--then, cheerfully, invite a woman to drinks and just don’t show. A fun story for whoever comes next. Can you believe she thought I’d want to meet her after one night of texting?

“Dani?” 

English, Dani thinks with a sudden rush of heat. Right. Somehow, she hadn’t quite been prepared for the accent, which--coming out of this woman, draped with languid ease at a table--is truly a little more than Dani thinks she can handle just now. The accent, combined with the mess of curls dragged back from her face, and a dress sense that manages to be both casual and deeply attractive at the same time, is...

“Jamie,” she says, her voice a little lower, a little more hoarse, than is truly necessary. The woman pushes up from her seat, a small-framed figure in a black button-down, suspenders, ripped jeans. She’s pressing a hand toward Dani, offering a firm shake as though they are business partners, not an off-the-cuff bad idea of a date. “You look--”

“Never been here before,” Jamie says, almost apologetically. She gestures for Dani to sit before dropping back down in a sprawl that implies exactly the opposite of what her mouth is insisting. “Wasn’t sure about the, ah, dress code.”

“You--you did fine,” Dani tells her, wishing suddenly she’d gone for a dress. Or a  different human body altogether. She feels too tightly-strung, too anxious for the easy smile on Jamie’s lips. “Um. You’re very. In person.”

“Very,” Jamie repeats, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Is very American for wish I’d gone left, after all?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. That.” Bit too forceful, she suspects, judging by the smile spreading into a grin. “No, it’s just--your picture didn’t--tell me you’d be so...”

“Clean?” Jamie suggests innocently. She raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “Scrub up fine, when I need to. Seemed to call for it.”

“And you...sure did answer,” Dani says stupidly. “The. Call, I mean. I’m sorry, I really don’t do this often.”

Something seems to soften in Jamie, her smile less teasing as she leans across the table. “Hey, no worries here. Same person you were talking to the other night.”

Dani nods, embarrassed, and flags down a server. Drinks ordered, she draws in a deep breath.

“I mean, I haven’t done this in years. Or. Ever, I guess.”

“A first date?” Jamie asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, she adds in a knowing tone, “A date with a woman?”

“Both,” Dani says honestly. “My last relationship was--well, I mean, we were engaged--”

Jamie whistles under her breath, reaching up to scratch her head. “Blimey. What happened?”

“He’s...him.” It’s too much to go into on a first date, too much to explain, even though talking to Jamie over text had been so dangerously easy. “My best friend growing up, but that was...growing up.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, tilting her chin in thanks when the server deposits two full pint glasses and a basket of fries on the table. “Rough time, sounds like. I can relate. My last relationship also did not go well.”

“Was he also a man who thought you’d be all too happy to quit your job and take care of a bunch of babies?” Dani asks, perhaps a little too bitterly for the occasion. Jamie flashes another grin, sipping her drink.

“She was a woman who thought I’d be all too happy to take the fall when she got busted for possession.”

Dani gapes. “Oh. Oh--I didn’t know--I’m so--”

Jamie shrugs. “She wasn’t wrong. I was nineteen, and deeply stupid. Live and learn, as the poets say.”

“Which poets?” Dani asks, smiling a little. Jamie’s brow furrows.

“John...Lennon, possibly? Hard to say. Anyway, relationships are a chore and a half, but the greatest people in the world tell me thirty is too old to play musical bedframes, so. Here we are.”

No bullshit, thinks Dani approvingly. For what little she’d put into her profile, Jamie evidently hadn’t been lying about that.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since you were nineteen?”

“In my mind, I was still in the relationship at twenty-four, when they let me out. She didn’t agree. Found out she’d been married two years, by then.” Something darkens in Jamie’s eyes for a moment. She sighs. “Like I said. Not my finest. But I am, as they say, a shining beacon of reform these days.”

“Now, when you say they,” Dani teases, grinning. Jamie nods decisively. 

“John Lennon. Definitively.”

There it is, thinks Dani, watching Jamie pop a fry into her mouth. There, the easy roll of conversation from the other night. As though they’ve known each other forever. As though two people who have thus far failed irrevocably at relationships make a perfect match.

Easy, she thinks. Don’t go wild, now. 

“So,” she says, when the comfortable silence between them has grown a bit too comfortable for the setting, “who are the greatest people in the world? The ones who tell you thirty is too old for...did you say musical bedframes?”

Jamie laughs. The ring of it curls gently around Dani’s head like a soft hand, a sound she’ll find herself replaying later with a skipping heart. 

“Not many willing to put up with a grump of my caliber, but Hannah and Owen fight the good fight. So long as I at least pretend to try.”

“Let me guess. They set up the account for you?”

Jamie makes a sort of gesture in the air with the hand not holding her glass. “Threatened to bury me in puns and children, respectively, if I kept putting it off. Owen’s still grumpy about the photo choice.”

“I liked it,” Dani says without thinking. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you did swipe as much. Mind if I ask why?”

Walked into this one. Still, she doesn’t mind as much as she probably should, not with the genuine curiosity in Jamie’s eyes. “You looked--don’t laugh.”

“No promises,” Jamie says, but with the gentle tone of one who knows exactly how much to tease before it’ll hurt. The idea warms Dani in a way she’s not quite ready to look at yet.

“You looked real,” Dani says. “Like you weren’t going to play games, or waste anyone’s time. Like you just wanted to be happy in peace.”

“That is,” Jamie says, holding out a fry for Dani to take, “sort of the idea, yeah.”

There’s an almost puzzled cast to her smile, like she didn’t entirely expect this answer, and is pleased by it at the same time. That same sense from the photo sweeps over Dani now--that this woman is authentic, even if she’s not always shiny, that she’s kind even if not entirely clean. That she doesn’t have any interest in muddled expectation or living a comfortable lie.

“And me?” Dani asks. She doesn’t entirely mean to--but she’s sure, in asking, that Jamie will answer. Jamie is unlike anyone else she’s ever met, the first person she’s ever known to meet each question head-on. 

“Honestly?”

Dani nods. Jamie seems to consider it, turning it over in her head as she twists a fry between her fingers like a cigarette. 

“All of it.”

“That’s,” Dani begins to laugh, “that’s not--”

“No,” Jamie says, and she isn’t smiling, exactly. Her eyes have a sort of shine Dani likes very much, but there is no hint of teasing in them now. “Really. All of it. You’re...very pretty, and that’s--but the way you described yourself. Like you didn’t care to be anyone in particular. You like new experiences, and bad coffee. You hate being called Danielle. I...I wanted to know why.”

“It’s not my name,” Dani says simply. Jamie gives a brief laugh, her hand moving across the table to lightly brush Dani’s fingertips. 

“I wanted to know why all of it. Why do you like bad coffee--”

“It’s the only kind I know how to make,” Dani says automatically. “Just sort of leaned into it.”

“--and teaching--”

“I want to make a difference,” Dani says. 

“--and where you most like to go on those long walks--”

“Anywhere I can breathe,” Dani says. Her fingers are hesitant, tracing the tips of Jamie’s. There’s something electric about this, about barely touching, about barely knowing someone and still wanting to give them neatly-packaged secrets shaped like the mundane. 

Jamie is smiling. “See, that. I like that. All of it.”

It’s nothing, Dani thinks reflexively. A collection of details. A sparse approximation of a life. Eddie knows all of this, and then some, and never matched up to knowing her.

But this woman, leaning across the table with one hand outstretched, looks so different. Watches her with steady interest. Is listening to every word Dani says, though the bar is growing crowded around them, and soon, conversation will become a task instead of a gift.

“Would you,” Dani says, feeling certain that some mistakes are not as bad as they seem, “like to take one of those walks?”

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah. Tonight.” Emboldened by the smile, by the curl falling into Jamie’s eyes, by the knowledge that she still can’t quite make out what color those eyes are, Dani takes her hand. It’s so easy, she thinks she could do it even without looking. “Right now.”

No bullshit, she thinks. No expectations. Just Jamie looking at her like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Dani can’t blame her. This isn’t at all what she’d thought she was getting, walking in tonight. 

But there’s something about it--something about the feeling that she’s been here before, or should be here forever, or will always find her way back to a woman who looks at her just like this--that almost makes her feel brave. Almost makes her feel wonderful. She rises from the table, laying cash beneath her half-empty glass, and feels a pleasant jolt in her chest when Jamie follows without another word.

If this a mistake, she thinks as they step out into the brisk evening air, it’s one she’s hungry to make. 

[queerchoicesblog]

The Nightingale

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing projectcontinues after a break with a miniseries set back in the City of Lights - & Love - at the time of the Belle Epoque, at the turn of the century.

The story finale is served: hope that you enjoyed the journey so far.

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapters: Paris, Paris ; One Night At The Moulin Rouge , The Handkerchief, The Cage of Fools,  La Vie Bohème, Broken Dreams

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

__________________________

It takes some time to persuade Élodie that my idea could actually work. Before sharing it with her, I pay a visit to the Moulin Rouge and discuss it with Laurent, Carmine and the other friends she has there. They listen to me carefully and ponder my words. When they speak, they evaluate possibilities and chances of the new plan. They even ask Valerie, the singer I saw on stage on my first time at the 'First Palace of Women', to hear it out and share her thoughts on that. She takes a long meditative pause before conceding that it's not a bad idea, after all. "And I think Monsieur Zidler won't have much to object, honestly. He likes Lila, he hired her personally" she adds, shrugging and flashing an encouraging smile. We all share a look. Laurent speaks first, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. "Time to break it to Lila!" "Léa's idea, Léa's duty" Carmine winks. "Let us know if you need backup and we'll send the chivalry". And so I do. The following day, when our shift is over, I wave Marie goodbye and head towards Montmarte, cherishing the news in my chest and hoping my idea won't make her too nervous or uncomfortable. Or even worse, offend her.

"A singing act?" Élodie looks at me confused when I share my foolish idea. She almost spits out the coffee she's drinking. "But I'm not a singer!" She keeps looking at me without understanding, furrowing her brows. I wonder if she's thinking I'm speaking nonsense out of the blue. If so, I'm thankful she tries to conceal it. "I know...you sing well though" I notice, smiling. I take a seat beside her and gently wrap an arm around her waist. I ponder what to say next: I know how badly she's suffering despite the brave face she puts on now and hurting her is the last thing I want. On the contrary, I only want to help her, if I can. "I know it's different from what you're used to and what you want...but I genuinely think you could do well. And it doesn't have to be forever, it could be temporary...the doctor said you have to be patient with your recovery. As much as it pains me to remind it, you can't go back dancing now" "I know" she grimaces. "Consider this a...distraction?" I suggest, guiding her face towards me. "When you feel better, you could give it a try and see how it feels. You could sit on a bar stool and play an accordion like that singer at the Cage, remember? Maybe you'll even have fun" I try to be as bubbly as I can given the circumstances and my naive enthusiasm draws a tiny smile on her face. "Maybe" she sighs, half-convinced. "Just think about it: no rush, no pressure" I press a kiss on her forehead. I don't tell her of my conversation with Carmine and Laurent at the Moulin. They go visit her a week or so later, bringing a colourful bouquet of irises on behalf of all her colleagues who "miss her dearly and can't wait to have her back". To my surprise, Élodie mentions them the singing act plan. Of course they pretend to hear it from the first time; it could work, they say. Everything to get her back to the stage she belongs to, they add. I am unbelievably happy to see my love improving as weeks go by. She now leaves her room more often with the help of a crutch and take "little walks" up and down the corridor or simply sits in the main room, chatting, reading. I make her promise not to exert herself but I am glad of this change: keeping her mind busy and quitting her self-imposed isolation seem to do her good. It's in the main room that I find her one evening. The atmosphere is as lively as one would expect from an artist apartment in Montmarte. Luis is discussing of an upcoming exhibition sipping wine in the kitchen with a couple of friends and colleagues or so I wager. He greets me with a nod and hands me a glass of red. I gladly take it and head to the main room where the music comes from. Élodie is sitting on the sofa with a girl I have never seen before. They both greet me with a smile and my love pats the armchair by her side, beckoning me to have a seat with them. The girl stands and offers me her hand to shake: it's Sidonie, the actress roommate. She had a role in a comedy show lately, that's why we didn't get a chance to meet sooner. "El asked me to teach her how to play the accordion" she explains, cheerfully. I am pretty sure my face betrays my surprise. "And it's way trickier than I thought it would be" Élodie protests. "How can a little instrument like this can be so hard to play? I don't get it" Sidonie and I take a seat as she lets out a loud sigh of defeat. Her frown doesn't last long though: a quick smile appears on her face at our proximity. Dropping the instrument in her lap, she reaches for my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles. "Well, Rome wasn't built in a day, right?" I smile back as she steals my glass of wine. "Right, and you still have time before the big day" Sidonie adds. "What's the big day?" I ask, a little confused. "You haven't told her yet?" she shoves Élodie's shoulder, gaping. "C'mon, El, spill the beans!" Élodie sighs and take a big sip of wine as if to steady her nerves for some big announcement. Saying that curiosity is killing me is an understatement but I try not to pressure her. "So..." she starts, turning to face me. "The doctor visited me yesterday and-" "And?" I fail to refrain myself. "And he is happy with how my recovery is going. Very happy, actually. True, I still cannot dance and probably my days as a can-can dancer are over" a shadow crosses her face but I am proud to see her fight it back. "But I am improving and that's what matters, right? If I keep up the good job, I can get rid of that crutch in weeks, he said" "But that's amazing, El! I'm so happy for you" I cover my mouth to prevent the lump forming in my throat to ruin the moment. I don't wanna cry here, now, in front of her. "And there's more to it" Sidonie winks. "Keep going, El" "I...I may have written a letter to Monsieur Zidler, explaining my situation and mentioning the singing act plan. And asking for an audition to see if I can still fit in. Carmine offered to deliver it when she visited, the answer came in earlier today" She takes a dramatic pause. "He may have said yes" I squeal and wrap my arms around her neck, making her giggle. "He said he will receive me whenever I want. I just have to write him a note and he will give me an appointment" she adds, hugging me back. I linger in her arms a bit longer, longer than I meant at first, suddenly unwilling to resist the wave of joyous relief washing over me. I try to make it last in the familiar warmth of Élodie's embrace. "It's...oh El, it's...I don't even have words for it!" I say, eventually parting. "That's why I asked Sid for help. With the accordion and in general: she's a professional, right?" "A great professional" the actress playfully corrects her. "A great professional" Élodie chuckles. "I know how to dance but not how to take the stage solo, how to move, what to say, how to engage with the audience...oddly enough, it's all quite new to me. So I thought that a little training could help me to pass the audition and stay at the Moulin" "And Theo, our music-hall virtuoso, has been recruited too. He will assist with the singing part" Sidonie finishes her sentence then turns towards me. "Trust me, Léa: we'll turn this dancer into the new singing phenomenon the likes of which Paris has ever seen" True to her word, in the weeks that follow, my indomitable love works hard with her roommates and improvised tutors. She keeps me and her friends from the Cage updated over dinner when we visit her; she asks for suggestions on the songs to sing, songs that might make a good impression on Monsieur Zidler. She's keen to impress him, certainly out of pride but also - I have reason to believe - in the hope that he allows her not to leave the Moulin. That place has come to signify so much for her, more than most could probably understand. Maybe she landed there almost by chance as she said but it's clear what it means to her now: it's her life, her passion. I bet that sometimes at night she dreams the extravagant hall filled with dancing couples and careless costumers sipping champagne. I'm sure the furious rhythm of la quadrille still haunts her sleep: I can only hope it doesn't torment her. I know that she's suffering deep down, that every limping step, every accidental look to her injured ankle reminds her of that night who put an end to the career she was born for. I see it in her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking. But I also sense a sparkle, a fire burning brighter than the shadows crossing her face and her heart. A month later, she finally decides "it's now or never" and writes a note to Monsieur Zidler. I cannot go with her to the audition because of work, luckily Theo has a free day. Monsieur Zidler listens carefully, smoking his cigar in a first row seat, and claps his hands when the last note dies out. Green light for the singing act! The night of her debut I make sure to get tickets for all my friends. Eventually, I let them know of my friendship with Élodie and the other dancers of the Moulin. I didn't tell them well, everything and I am thankful they don't dig for more. I am also grateful for their genuine concern for my love's accident and the enthusiasm they showed for her debut. The guys insisted to buy some flowers to throw her on the way here and they all dressed up to meet her after the acts. When I look at them, I think back of my first time here and I cannot help but smile to myself. Before venturing to the backstage area, I wave at Pierrette - well Pierre tonight - Amélie and other girls I saw at the Cage. We smile at each other across the room: I knew they wouldn't have missed such an important night. The night of her debut Élodie is so tense she keeps saying she's going to puke and asking for champagne to find the right amount of liquid courage to walk onto the stage. Laurent, Carmine and I try to discipline said amount and escort her till the velvet curtains when time comes. She inhales sharply and gives us all a tensed look when on the other side Valerie announces a little novelty, a second singing act. Her singing act. She squeezes my hand tight till the moment the curtains open and she steps into the stage light. As I predicted, she had no reason to be so nervous, even if I get where her fears came from. When the lights of the music hall wash over her, the audience erupts in a round of encouraging applauses and cheers. The whole room resounds with her name - Lila! Lila! Lila! - as she proceeds towards a bar stool positioned at the centre of the stage. She's still limping but no one seems to notice or care. Especially when she clears her throat and after a gracious greeting, she starts singing. Then everyone goes quiet, enraptured by the sweet melody of her voice. She may not dance anymore but the paying guests seem to love her all the same. After every performance, they whistle in appreciation and clap their hand loud, asking for more songs. Night after night. Week after week. They don't stop. Journalists and regulars end up giving her a nickname that consecrates her new career. They start calling her 'The Nightingale of Pigalle' or simply 'The Nightingale'. With the unexpected yet unmistakable success, she gains a mention on the playbill and the posters advertising the Moulin all over Paris. As a consequence, her acts evolve and become more complex. Élodie asks for new tips to Sidonie and Theo and practises regularly with a newfound determination. She tries to find and memorise new songs to enrich her repertoire. Sometimes she sings them for me when we are in bed and she plays with my hair or holds me close in a loving embrace. Now she performs in duets with Valerie twice a week, and solo, winning the favour of adoring fans over and over again. Paris falls in love with her and well, I can't blame her. I don't think it's possible to know her and not to love Élodie. There is something inside her, a light so bright that encompasses her figure and is now showing. Better, glowing. As her new career takes off, something changes in my life too. I make what my superior calls "a most foolish decision I will regret dearly when it's too late" and quit my job at the atelier. In the end, I don't end up regretting it because, prevailing over a fierce competition, I join the tailor entourage of Les Folies Bergere. When one night I overheard a dancer at the Moulin saying that they were looking for a new seamstress, I just knew I had to throw my hat in the ring. And so I did. The pay is a bit lower than the one I would have now if I had stayed since my supervisor wasn't joking about that long-awaited promotion but I am happier this way. I got my share of Vie bohème sewing and fixing the most extravagant costumes Paris has ever seen. And I heard that Marie, who has been working thrice as hard over the past few months to make up for the time the girls and I covered for her, got 'my' promotion. She deserves it and some extra money might come in handy if Alain makes his move and gets down on one knee, at last. Who would have told, like....a year ago or even just a few months ago? Marie in tears at the thought of being fired and me, the quiet seamstress from the North with an ordinary life. Now my life is less ordinary and the world seem like turning faster and faster. It's thrilling, maybe a bit scary at times. It's like...being caught in a whirlwind, I notice as I share my thoughts with Élodie one night in bed. "Things change fast in Paris" she ponders, smiling to herself. "It's the magic of the crazy times we live in" "Maybe you're right" I agree but then a thought crosses my mind, an uneasy one. I look at her and my heart aches a little: she is always so beautiful I'm the moonlight but she also looks distant, so ethereal she could vanish any minute just like a dream when morning comes and you open your eyes. But I don't want to wake from this dream. I roll to the side to face her and speak again before cowardice gets the best of me. "But there is a thing I don't want to change" I reach for her hand and she rolls to her side too, listening. "This. You and me, together. I...I don't want to change that or that to change" I feel my cheeks burn as soon as the words leave my mouth but I had to say that. To make it clear. I have already lost her once and it was awful, I don't want to go through that again. The mere thought of it make my stomach turn Élodie's hand is cold on my cheek as she caresses it with the soothing tenderness I have come to love about her. "We don't have to change that, Léa" One night I am almost late for her act. I come straight from Les Folies but I wouldn't have missed it for the world since Élodie asked me to be present. She didn't tell me why, she just kissed me and said "you'll see". So here I am. I join my friends at the table reserved for us just as the first dancing act starts. I sip my champagne and do my best to follow even if my mind is somewhere else, backstage. I take a relieved sigh and clap my hands with the rest of the audience when her name is announced. This time though, she doesn't make her entrance straight away, leaving us wondering what she has in store for us. No one seems bothered though, they just whisper excitedly with the neighbours and keep clapping their hands to call her on stage. Then Élodie steps in, emerging from the velvet curtains in a new costume that elicits gasps and cheers among the audience. My friends and I clap encouragely as she saunters towards her stool in an elegant male suit just like the one Laurent wears on scene and swaying -and helping herself with - a walking stick like a dandy. I am suddenly reminded of our night at the Cage of Fools and my cheeks turn rosy. She greets everyone with affable cheerfulness and a mysterious smile that catches the attention of the paying guests. She takes a seat on her stool, with her usual grace and taking her time. When she speaks, she has the general undivided attention and curiosity. "I wrote a song, a little tune for tonight. Would you like to hear it?" An excited murmur spreads in the hall then everyone goes quiet. That's when she starts singing, a gorgeous smile on her lips. She sings of a Parisian boy who once bumped into a fisherman on his walk by the Seine. The old man told him that he didn't like Paris because you can only get small fishes here and pearls are hard to find away from the seashore: there are none in the City of Lights. The young Parisian listened to the man and resumed his walk, quickly forgetting about fishes and oysters. But he soon discovered that the old seaman was wrong. A few days later, the boy actually found one, the brightest pearl, down the River, on the quays of Paris, where Lady Luck is gentle with hopeful lovers. His pearl has hair of gold and a smile sweeter than cherries: she didn't make him rich but turned his life into paradise. He didn't make a necklace out of her like people do when they find those tiny shiny treasures, but he always bears the image of her face in his heart because his Pearl gave him the only wealth worth calling your own in this world: Love. When she hits the final note, it's clear everybody adored it. Loud appreciative whistles and applauses, a chant "again, sing again!" and flowers, so many flowers landing on the stage like a colourful rain. Another success but...this one is different. Élodie bows to the adoring audience and picks up one rose, rising. Her eyes search the crowd until they find me. With a tender smile, she throws it my way. It lands in my hands as someone starts chanting her name over the clapping of hands and stomping of feet. But I don't register it, I only have eyes for her. My heart is on fire. With one last lingering look before basking in her well deserved triumph, Élodie mouths words meant for me only. Words only I can hear in the crowd. "My little pearl"

[kazgv]

tagged by @powerandglxry​

the rules are to answer questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better :)

gender: Male, cool with they/them pronouns by strangers

star sign: cancer

height: 5'6

time currently: 5:50 pm

birthday: July 11th

favorite band/group(s): Peach pit, I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, Unlike Pluto, Sub Urban, Weathers, My Chemical Romance, Crown the Empire, Set it Off, The Dreadnoughts, Pierce The Veil, The Neighborhood, Famous Last Words, Ghost, Diablo Swing Orchestra, Circa Waves, Mother Mother

favorite solo artist(s): glutamine, boy pablo, Cavetown, Mellow Fellow, Simon Curtis, Sickick, Caleb Hyles, Jonathan Young

song stuck in my head: 8 Legged Dreams - Unlike Pluto

last show you binged: Demon Slayers: Kimetsu no Yaiba (bing rewatch since it got put on netflix)

last thing you googled: “what happened to muzan's family” I was bing watchin the other night and just wanted to know if that like ever got brought up again or not

other blogs: a dead art blog, a recipe blog that I hardly post to, and an niche aesthetic blog that I also hardly post to

why I chose my url: it’s my name + the initials of first ever online user handle from when I was a wee bab just entering into the world of the internet and chat rooms had super limited character limits so everyone went by shortened versions of the handles and GV was what I got referred to due to that. I like hateeee that username now tho, it was so cringe, but I’m still attached to the initials so I’ve always include it in any username since then after branching out to other sites and that site went down

how many people are you following: 326

how many followers do you have: 301 but so many are invisible (likely spam) blogs :/

average hours of sleep: 8

lucky numbers: 7, 9, 11, 13, 21

instruments: I don’t play any but I’d like to learn the accordion tbh

what i am currently wearing: very breathable athletic wear shirt and super baggy pajama pants

dream job: I just wanna draw, or a farm with a cow, some goats, and an orchard //shrug

dream trip: Germany, Italy, Ireland, Scotland, Norway, Sweden, Japan, South Korea

favorite song(s): (not gon include fav songs from bands/artist I already listed or this would be too long)  Sing to me - missio, little poor me - layto, A good song Never Dies - saint motel, 7 rings metalcore cover - ChuggaBoom, Bloodbath & Beyond - iceninekilled, Final Girl (feat. Slayyyter) - Graveyardguy, copycat - billie eillish, friends - marshmello & anne-marie, Villain (빌런) - Stella Jang (스텔라장), Ainsi bas la vida - Indila, Devil Trigger (FULL VERSION) || Metal Cover by RichaadEB (ft. Lollia & LittleVMills)

tagging: @bambismoms , @opalizedgodcomplex , @eggtuna , @wildchildharu, @stormwhet, @bayale , @laddertotheestars , @sentient-corgi-parade , @gaycalzone , @sonyanoel20 , @yd12k , @cheeseprince , @stribird , @summosa , @peachbunnii + anyone else who wants to not obligated to do this it just for funnies 

[bopinion]

2021 / 07

Aperçu of the Week:

Why should we always be thinking over? Wouldn't thinking ahead be more important? (Marie von den Benken)

Bad News of the Week:

Last week, as every year, statistical figures came out about last year's agriculture. With shocking figures: in recent years, in Bavaria alone 15,000 farms have given up. Out of about 100,000. In Bavaria, farms have always been more than just agricultural production sites. They shaped village structures, maintained the cultural landscape and provided the pretty postcard motifs with happy cows in green pastures. There is so much culture in agriculture. But this seems more and more in danger.

Of the farms that defined our hamlet for centuries, just two remain. And one of the two still active farmers already needs a sideline, since agriculture no longer yields enough. The good old days still shine through: on Sunday, the three or four generations go to church together in traditional costume. In the morning we first hear cows mooing and chickens clucking, the ringing of the cowbells later mingles with that of the church towers. In the afternoon, grandpa plays the accordion in front of the house. But the main purpose of the farms - cattle breeding, dairy farming, vegetable cultivation and arable farming - are becoming increasingly rare, concentrated, as in any industry, more and more on a few large farms, which the now EU-wide competition forces to grow. With seasonal workers from Romania and harvest helpers from Bulgaria instead of their own children and grandchildren.

While the sector of the agricultural economy is suffering from structural change, another is only beginning to suffer with Corona: the breweries. Here, too, we are talking about rural businesses that have been producing local specialties for generations in small family-run operations. And which belong to Bavaria like its white-blue sky. But while wine usually gets better and more valuable over time, beer is a seasonal commodity that only lasts a few months. And now it has to be thrown away because the most important customers, from pubs to beer gardens to folk festivals, haven't been buying any for months because they can't receive any customers themselves. But at the same time, the breweries do not receive any public aid, since they themselves have not had to close due to government restrictions.

Thus Corona draws ever larger, hardly less cruel circles. And we learn that many things that we "normally" take for granted are not. Many things cannot simply be ordered from Amazon. And its ever-larger logistics warehouses are no good as postcard motifs either.

Good News of the Week:

Super Mario is back. If anyone can fix it, it's him. No, it's not about the revival of a video game classic, but about Italian politics. I've never quite understood why the French are so often derisively referred to as "ungovernable": in Italy, the 67th government has been in power for a few days now - in only the 18th legislative term. That must be a world record. There is no democratically governed country where advantage-taking is as present as in Bella Italia. I don't even mean corruption, although it is omnipresent. I mean the selfishness of the political caste, which has always been more concerned with its own power than with the good for the nation. And the electorate is happy to go along with it. After all, they have elected Silvio Berlusconi as prime minister four times.

At the beginning of this year, the time had come once again: in the parliament in Rome, which is characterized by temporary, fragile coalitions, the incumbent prime minister Giuseppe Conte first lost his majority and then also the vote of confidence. Fatal at a time when the country needs to find a way out of the Corona crisis. That is why President Sergio Mattarella has resisted the many calls for new elections. These would not only have been detrimental to containing infection and overcoming division in the country, but would also have taken far too long. After all, only with an active, legitimized government will Italy have access to the billions in reconstruction funding from the EU, which it needs yesterday rather than tomorrow. Mattarella remembered the theory of technocracy and called into being a government of experts last week. With Prof. Dr. Mario Draghi at its head.

Draghi, an economist and banker, is known to most from his time as president of the European Central Bank ECB in 2011-2019, with success: he overcame the euro crisis with aplomb ("Whatever is takes!"), was proclaimed by Fortune as the "second greatest political leader in the world" and the first Italian to be awarded an honorary doctorate by MIT. Since that time, calming financial markets has been called the "Draghi effect" - and he himself "Super Mario." Exactly what distinguished him as ECB president is what Italy needs right now: a proven expert in economic and financial policy, an administrative professional and, above all, a sovereign leader without any ambition for a political career. He will simply do his job. Undoubtedly a good one - as is his way.

Personal happy Moment of the Week:

The real boss of a television show is called a "showrunner." He is not the main actor, not the director, not the anchor. But he is the gray eminence who pulls all the strings. In art, this job is done by the "curator", who is responsible for the conception, the soul of each exhibition. Tomorrow, "Grief and Grievance: Art and Mourning in America", the last exhibition of Okwui Enwezor, a superstar of the scene who died in Munich the year before last, will start in New York City. An exhibition that could not be more topical and important, since it finally addresses the latent racism in U.S. society. Typical of Enwezor, who always bridged the gap between art and society - because only between these two poles can this force field arise that we call culture.

I've missed a lot of cultural things in my life: I never saw Freddie Mercury or David Bowie live. And I wasn't in Berlin when the Wall fell, nor when Christo and Jeanne-Claude wrapped the Reichstag. But I did not miss Okwui Enwezor and his work. When he curated the two most important events in contemporary art - Documenta 2002 in Kassel and the 2015 Venice Biennale - I was there. And when he took the helm at the "Haus der Kunst" (House of Art) in Munich in 2011, I didn't even have to travel to enjoy his conceptions of art presentation. Even if with Enwezor the art scene lost one of the greats prematurely to cancer, in retrospect it still makes me happy to have experienced his work. Thank you!

As I write this...

...I am deliberately drinking a Bavarian beer that comes from one of the local mini-beerhouses in our neighborhood. In this case, from the Klosterbrauerei Reutberg - a pilgrimage site of barley juice, to which we also like to cycle in the summer. Support local businesses!

[jadetyle]

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! 

Reblog and then write your own! I have been tagged by @amuseoffyre This is optional of course but if you do it I hope you have fun! To pass this along I shall tag @perfectshadow06 , @ran196242 , @apocahipster , @depressedstressedlemonzest  and @holycatsandrabbits (y’all are so talented and deserve some love). And of course anyone else who would like to give this a try is welcome to do so too! 

1 - Ineffable Musicians (Good Omens fanart) 

This was a gift to my wonderful friend and ever encouraging mutual @lycos99 inspired by their love of music! I had never made any fandom friends before because I am usually very nervous to talk about my interests. But last year I was messaged by a wonderful person who introduced me to their favorite artists and shared with me their Good Omens themed playlist they made! (which I like to listen to while I draw) This was also the first time I’ve tried drawing a complex background in a LONG time. The multiple light sources were a tough challenge I still need practice on as well. But I got to listen to a lot of accordion music while I figured out how to draw instruments and it was very satisfying to draw Crowley’s hair :D 

2 - Sweater Vests (Book Omens fanart) 

This was pure fun. I love drawing outfits and I love book omens. 10yrsyart has such amazing book omens designs I couldn’t resist dressing up their boiz(-shaped-beings) for a bit. Aziraphale’s design was tricky since I couldn’t figure out how to draw an eye pattern without making it super creepy. I actually surprised myself with Crowley’s design because I didn’t realize the apple was heart-shaped and placed over his heart until I colored it in and blew my own mind. I am really happy with how it turned out in the end, looking back on these projects now makes me want to do more clothing designs again. 

3 - Wing Grooming (Book Omens fanart) 

Turns out I really like drawing wings. But I rarely do and I don’t know why. I should really do more wings related projects. The only tricky thing is that wings are one of the only things I never use outlines to draw, only silhouetting and shading with a smudge tool. I was really happy with how this one turned out with the messy feathers on one side and neatly draped feathers on the other. Part 3 of this series was also immensely satisfying in terms of drawing wings, and also one of my first attempts at figuring out how to draw texture with a silk vest. 

4 - First church scene of Sacrament (Inverse Omens fanart) 

One of my most complex projects yet. I just really wanted to draw Aziraphale with a gasping expression, but that wouldn’t make sense without context so I’ll just sketch some context and oh look, it’s a multipage comic now! This really challenged me with figuring out perspective drawing and lighting. Playing with colors for this was really fun, especially with light supposedly shining through stained glass windows. I still have a page and a half of sketches for this that perhaps I shall finish someday. There are so many more sketches I want to do for this fic because I love it so much, if only I could find the time to finish any of them. 

5 - If Sacrament was 15th century (Inverse Omens fanart) 

Part of me knows that fanart doesn’t need to be extremely accurate all the time, but the theater costume designing part of me says that if I want to do historical designing I need to bury myself in time period research immediately or else. Honestly this was a really exciting project to do. Even though it ended up being the inaccurate fic setting (turns out it was 13th century so I got to do a redesign for the comic instead!), I had a lot of fun with just the costume designing. Especially with Crowley’s jewelry and Aziraphale’s embroidery. 

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 3 Episode 2: Group A Playoffs  (Thoughts and Guesses)

Hello, my fellow Masked Singer lovers! Yesterday was the playoffs for Group A of The Masked Singer, where 5 masks compete for 4 spots in the championship round (where the top 3 go into the final 9), so you know what time it is: me giving my predictions and opinions (I am adding opinions on performances and stuff too since it will be boring for me repeating the same freaking guesses over and over again even though I am inserting my little direction of this week’s batch of clues). Ok, here we go!

Let’s start with the reveal of the day... **SPOILER ALERT Y’ALL** don’t say I didn’t warn you... The person who got eliminated was **DRUMROLL PLEASE**

The Llama 

Who was revealed to be **AGAIN SPOILER I SAY** 

DREW FREAKING CAREY (aka Price is Right dude... well that’s how I know him) 

I guessed it!!! Peep my recap from Monday... I knew it guys, it was kind of obvious but here are his clues from this episode: 

They had superlative clues after the performance and his was “Most Likely to be Near Firing Cannons” =  he was in the Marine Corp Reserves

In the clue package, he was playing an accordion in front of a live studio audience, pointing to his shows that he has done in front of a live studio audience, like Price is Right and Whose Line is it Anyways.

As for my opinion on his performance, I thought it was an average performance so it was no shock that he went home. I think he is a really good singer for someone who isn't a professional singer. Honestly, his costume was hilarious and his run on the show was great, especially seeing him move his strap on booty lmao. (Btw the song he sang was It’s Not Unusual by Tom Jones) 

Anyways, now that that's done, let’s get into the 4 remaining masks who I still need to guess. 

1. The White Tiger 

Ok so let’s start with the White Tiger’s Performance: He sang Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch and honestly, he isn’t a great vocalist, which is expected because he isn’t a professional vocalist at all. However, his dancing made the performance for me and kind of made up for the vocals he lacked (sorry but the guy can rap at the very least, he cannot sing, he could talk sing or rap but singing isn’t something he should be doing full time, which is completely fine because it isn’t for everyone and he seems like a cool guy, no shade). Anyways, yeah, having said that, this is who I believe he is: 

ROB “GRONK” GRONKOWSKI 

Why do you think that, you may ask? Well, take a look at the clues: 

All throughout the clue package, he mentions that he “loves a good block party” and he loves to dance. Well, Gronk is very well known for his insane block parties as I said last week so everything is tying together here. 

Picture of a cow skiing: pun on his last name: Gron-KOW-SKI get it? 

Boombox in the clue package: Patriots went viral with a video of them dancing and celebrating their  Super Bowl victory with a boombox blasting music

Superlative: Most Likely to go to the mat for a friend= he did do a wrestling match with one of his close friends 

2. Miss Monster 

Performance: Miss Monster performed Fancy by Reba McEntire  and I gotta say I loved how her voice sounded with the song. Like, the song is a typical country song, but her voice isn't what you will associate with country music but the blend of both is so awesome to watch. You can tell that she is an experienced vocalist, kind of gives me the same vibe the Flower aka Patti LaBelle gave me last season, such an iconic vocalist. So, of course my guess has to be the legendary....

CHAKA KHAN 

Ok so let��s look at the clues aka the reasoning behind my guess: 

In clue package, we see a queen chess piece and she is the queen of funk as we mentioned last week.

Butterfly drawing = has a song called “Hot Butterfly” 

Superlative: Most Likely to be in the presence of royalty = she did meet the queen in 2009 and she is royalty in the music industry 

3. The Kangaroo 

Performance: Kangaroo performed You Know I’m No Good by Amy Winehouse and wow that song was perfect for her like on point with her voice. Her voice is amazing, which I never expected from looking at the mask. Ok, so my guess for this one is.... 

JORDYN WOODS 

Ok so, I have debated back and forth with this one, the only doubt I have is the voice because I have never ever heard her sing... I searched on YT and nothing popped up of her singing, which is odd. It would make sense if her voice was like the llama or the white tiger, good but not amazing. However, she sounds like a professional singer so idk but these clues add up: 

In the beginning of the clue package, it says “Kangaroo Kourt,” which could be alluding to her previous association with the Kardashians

We see makeup in the bench and Jordyn did have a makeup collaboration with Kylie Cosmetics and does makeup tutorials on YouTube

Also, she made a Fresh Prince reference saying she wanted a “fresh start” while playing basketball because her father was a sound engineer on that show. 

Superlative: Most Likely to Appear in a List with Seal and Mike Tyson... what I have seen about this is that this is a list of celebrities with gap teeth (which she has since fixed with dental work) 

4. The Turtle 

Performance: I am gonna say it, Turtle is literally my favorite singer in this group of masked celebrities. He is so smooth and his voice is like butter. He sang “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur and I am sure everyone in the audience was in a trance after that performance. His voice is so amazing, but also so recognizable which is why I think he is the one, the only, the ever so dreamy... 

JESSE MCCARTNEY 

Ok so I am so sure about this, you cannot change my mind, but if you insist, we’ll look at the clues: 

In the clue package, there’s a menu with Ginger Snaps= his mother is named Ginger; Slow Cooked Beets= had a band called Sugar Beats before Dream Street 

Also, there is something written on the chalk board that says “Don’t Rave Ever At My School Turtle,” which if you take the first letters of each word, spell out DREAM ST, the name of his former boy band back in the day. 

Another thing I found interesting was that he was the voice of Leonardo in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which could be the source of inspiration for the costume he’s wearing. 

Superlative: Most Likely to Hunt for Booty = Pirates = he did a couple of acting roles and his first movie was a pirate movie 

Ok, so that is it! Thank you for reading my little recap/commentary/deep dive on the Masked Singer! I’ll see you guys next week with some more guessing and reveals. Bye! 

[glamourzombie]

I speak a lot with my hands. Maybe because of my culture, maybe because of my career, or maybe because I love communicating, I always try to convey as much meaning as I can through my words and my non-verbal language. This is possibly the reason why I am so attracted to the Greater Hand Oracle by Zoe Cope at Yes Thanks. Described as a “high-five to your cosmic health”, this colourful 25 card oracle deck is here to help you recenter, refocus, and recharge

On the site, we find this description: “each card has a theme word that is represented with illustrated hands set against a colorful background that undulates throughout the deck. Every deck comes with an accordion folded Guidebook that gives further definitions to each thematic word, provides info on Oracle card spreads, and shares the originally created Greater Hand Spread”. This spread is one of my favourites ever because it’s simply clever, a completely aha moment. Colour is important, especially when you draw multiple cards and find patterns, repetitions and hints at what is connected - and how.

Combining the hands, the keywords and the colours, this petite deck really packs a lot of information in a very quick, highly visual way. The messages are impactful because they are simple - there’s no way of getting around a truth once you have it in front of your face, stripped of any distraction. It can feel like a slap, or like a tight warm hug. In this sense, I feel that this explosive energy is great for the moments when we are feeling low, tired or need a boost. These were also designed to be more of a casual practice to be done when you’re waiting for your tea, or on a bus ride, or taking a study break. It’s self-care at its finest, one that takes into account common life setbacks and breakthroughs.

Some of my favourite cards are Chaos, Desire, Journey and Serenity (does this say something about me? probably). There are some extra goodies I’d like to mention! First, the deck came with a cute custom tuckbox and a bag - for double protection or to choose the best storage option for you. I also got a rainbow plated enamel pin and vinyl sticker which say “cosmic creature”. Very fitting indeed.

The Greater Hand Oracle is an explosion of energy, a visual pathway to the things we need to know - even if we are very low on energy or time. It is simple and knows how to combine few design elements to produce loud and clear messages. Though it is a small deck, it is powerful. Maybe the expression I’m going to use is not the clearest for all, but I am sure it is the one: this deck unburdens. If you want to know more details about it, head over Yes Thanks - and maybe take a look at their other goodies, like their Beam Me Up Space Spray!

[toonsforkicks22]

Just a Couple of Weirdos (Amphibia one shot)

(”Wally and Anne” was an AMAZING episode! I just had to make this!)

The one-eyed frog was exactly where Anne hoped he would be. For a frog living in squalor, his residence wasn’t too shabby. Hoisting her backpack, the human girl made her way toward the small, familiar shack. The last time she came here had been when she joined the toad guards, breaking in without consent and raiding the place. She especially remembered how this had been the same place where she first acted in compassion, which slowly resulted in earning the town’s respect. 

As she knocked on the door, nervousness crept into her mindset. It was like hanging out with a new friend for the first time; and if Anne recalled, that moment happened rarely back home. 

She forced down a lump in her throat as the door swung open. Two eyes, one closed, stared back at her with surprise and awe. 

“Annabelle?” Wally exclaimed.

“H-hey,” the human greeted somewhat shyly, not even bothering to correct him on the given nickname. She actually kind of liked it. “How’s it going, Wally?”

“Oh, well, I’m good,” the musical amphibian responded, still a bit taken by the unexpected visit. “What brings you here, love? Wait, don’t tell me those toads are back!” he expressed anxiously. 

“No, no! There’s no toads! Just me!” Anne assured, giving a gentle smile. 

Wally gazed at her momentarily. The look of amazement was not lost on his face. _______

Anne sat on an old wooden chair that had probably been discarded at some point. It still held well as Anne leaned against it. The tea cup provided to her may or may not have been from the remains of a broken family’s home; still, it was in good condition. The tea itself, Anne specifically remembered was from the Grub N’ Go, similar to the kind Hop Pop made. 

Wally sat next her in another old chair, sipping his own cup. 

“I got to admit, love, I never get visitors,” he explained. 

“Really?” Anne asked. “Why’s that?”

“Oh,  you know, seeing as the town’s local crazy person and all,” he expressed nonchalantly. “Coming here, you’d think it’ll be the nuthouse.”  

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “This place is really nice. It reminds me of the clubhouse I’ve always wanted to have back home. But the other kids thought it was pretty weird, and my friends told me it was kind of childish.”

“Nonsense!” Wally cackled. “Those kids probably don’t know real fun even if it stung them in the eye!”

Anne chuckled. “You know I wish there was someone like you back home. Always, optimistic, not caring what anyone else thinks...”

“And maybe someone who could make you feel you don’t need to impress everyone?” Wally suggested, glancing at her knowingly. 

“What?” she said with a forced laugh. “What makes you think that?”

“Love, I know it’s not any of my business,” he began, giving her a serious, worrisome look. It reminded Anne so much of the expressions Hop Pop would give her if she was ever in the midst of danger. “But I get the distinct feeling you had to pull yourself one way and not being able to do things your way.”

“What? Of course not!” she insisted. “I mean, the other kids-”

“Make you feel bad about yourself and you got to aim to please in order to fit in,” he cut in gently. “Am I right?”

Anne couldn’t say anything. How was it that this guy of all people could actually have the intelligence of a psychiatrist? Heck, he did a better job than any of the counselors at school could even accomplish! 

She never thought a conversation with the local looney person could ever be this serious. But if her adventure with him to find the mysterious moss man was any indication, she and Wally weren’t that different. 

A gentle hand made its way to Anne’s, and she looked over at Wally. The one-eyed frog gave her a sympathetic look, with a smile to match. Anne couldn’t help but smile back. A month ago, he along with the rest of Wartwood had seen her as a freak. The mean comments that would make an online message board look peaceful, the lack of respect, and not to mention how Wally called her and Sprig’s friendship as ‘disgusting’.

Anne remembered how much she just wanted to go home and leave these ill-mannered jerks behind. But then she saw how vulnerable they were during the toads’ visit. And despite how she had been treated, Anne still looked out for them. 

Oh, how things have changed since then. Wartwood saw her as one of their own. Anne felt closer to the town than she ever dared believe. 

To think she initially saw Wally as deadbeat, moronic, and above all too crazy to hang around. Spending this time with him made her realize what an artistic, sweet, passionate, caring, and selfless person he was. Not to mention he had great hair under that hat of his. If it wasn’t for the age and species difference, he would have made for an entertaining student at her school. Maybe Sasha and Marcie would have liked him. Or maybe they wouldn’t. If the latter, Anne wouldn’t have allowed their opinions get in the way of her friendship with him. 

All these thoughts made Anne realize that she never had a conversation this deep before. In fact, she had never opened up to Sprig like this, and he was her best friend!

Come to think of it, she didn’t even tell Sprig where she was going. She had been too set on visiting Wally, she forgot. 

Oh, well, maybe it wasn’t too bad.  _______

Sprig opened the door leading his best friend’s room, a wide grin on his face. 

“Hey, Anne!” he called excitedly. “Want to see some drawings I made? They’re all inspired by Suspicion Island! One of them is a character I made up who would totally fit into the variety of characters on the show. Also, spoiler alert, he’s a competitor for Chad.”

His only response was silence. 

“Anne?” he called again. He turned on the mushroom lamp, seeing an empty bed. 

“Anne went out, Sprig,” Hop Pop called from the kitchen, reading a book. “Had something to do, I think.”

“Oh, I guess that’s okay,” Sprig said nonchalantly. 

Five seconds passed and-

Sprig kicked the front door open with his foot before hopping off. 

“How could she go off without me?” he exclaimed frantically as he left the farm. “Maybe something bad happened and I was too occupied to notice! Anne! Anne! ANNE!”

“Clingy much?” Polly muttered while reading on the couch. _______

Meanwhile, Wally and Anne were taking a stroll through the woods. The former allowed his accordion to be used on account of how well Anne was doing with it. Not to mention the song she thought at the top of her head sounded wonderful. 

“Now I find myself in the wild unknown, with the frogs and toads, and I’m far from home,” the human sang aloud in rhythm with the accordion. “But there’s so much here to discover! One leap after another! Hop into the adventure! Gotta ribbit, ribbit, jump on it!”

”That was beautiful, love!” Wally encouraged. “Is that all you got?”

“Not really sure about the rest of the words,” she responded sheepishly. “I got to work on that. But, man, I never thought accordions could be so much fun. Back home my friends would think instruments like these were lame. I was too scared to sign up for a music club because of that.”

“Oy, you really got to stop listening to what they think, Anne,” Wally insisted. “Real friends wouldn’t drive their opinions into your brain like a nail on wood. Are you sure this Sasha and Marcie are your friends?”

A bit taken aback by such a question, Anne merely shrugged. “Well, yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not like they pressured me to do something stupid or whatever...” she added, swallowing a lump in her throat afterward.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he promised, although deep down he was certain that wasn’t the entire truth. But he wouldn’t press the kid. 

Soon the two were exploring the forest. They gathered berries, took pictures on Anne’s phone, and even ran for their lives from some giant predator. Wally never had this much fun before in his life!

When it was time for lunch, the two found a shady area under a tree. Wally was surprised Anne made him a special meal called an ‘omelette’. 

“No one’s ever cooked for me before,” he said as she placed the plate on his lap. “This ain’t pity because I live in squalor, is it?”

“Of course not,” she insisted. “Besides, sometimes friends cook for friends.”

Wally tasted her cooking, and his eyes immediately widened. “Goodness! This tastes better than whatever scraps I can get together and boil it in water!” He took another bite. “You cook for your friends back home too?”

Anne’s smile fell. “Well, not really. My friend’s don’t really trust my cooking abilities. And they don’t even eat Thai food either.”

“Don’t eat your foreign cuisines?” Wally gasped. “That’s rubbish! Why, if it weren’t for your culinary uniqueness, Stumpy’s would have been already closed!”

“Aww, thanks,” she said, touched. 

As they ate, Anne felt a drop on her head. She looked up and noticed that gray clouds were forming. 

“Shoot! It’s raining!” she exclaimed. 

Soon enough the duo were running out of the forest as the pouring began. With the Plantar house much farther than Wally’s, the one-eyed frog allowed her to stay for the night. 

Sitting on a clot laid out just for her, Anne glanced from her phone over at Wally. The older being stood in front of a chipped mirror nailed to the wall, then took off his hat. Anne couldn’t help but be amazed by how gorgeous his hair was. She was surprised he even had hair; she still remembered how surprised she had been when she found out Sprig had hair. 

Whistling a merry tune to himself, Wally began to comb his nightly blue locks. In some way, Anne had to admit that for a frog with one eye closed, he looked pretty handsome. 

“I really hope Sprig and the Plantars don’t freak out that I’m gone,” Anne said as Wally laid his cot next to hers.  _______

Meanwhile, back at the Plantar residence, Hop Pop had to carry a wet, muddy Sprig back inside the house. The kid had been practically terrorizing all of Wartwood trying to find Anne. “Dang it, Sprig!” the old frog sighed as he put him down. “I’m just as worried about Anne, but you didn’t have to tear the whole valley inside out!” 

Sprig wiped the mud off his face. “How could Anne just go without me? Do I mean nothing to her?”

“Cling-yyyyyy...” Polly sang.  _______

“I’m sure they won’t get too upset that you’re gone for one night,” Wally assured. “Although I wonder how your family from wherever you came from must be feeling right now.”

It took a moment for Anne to realize he was referring to her actual home. “Oh, yeah, I hope my parents are doing okay. It’s been more than a month. Can’t imagine the trouble they’re going through just to find out where I’ve gone off.”

“Hey, I’d be fretting too if you were my kid,” Wally remarked. “Probably tear the whole valley inside out just to find you.”

Anne couldn’t help but blush at that. The more she gotten to know the oddball frog, the more she realized just how golden his heart was. 

“What about your parents?” she asked. “I remember, in the song, you promised your dad you would find the person who killed him or something and defeat with, I think, the sound of music or something?”

“Oy, you were actually listening?” Wally exclaimed in astonishment. 

“Yeah,” Anne said, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about your dad. I can see just how important this accordion is to you.” She glanced over at said instrument, remembering how those toad warriors nearly took it away from him for good that day. 

“Oh, thanks, love,” he responded, touched. “Yeah, my parents were decent people. I admit our living situation was no better than this, put still, we pulled through. Lost my mum when I was no older than you. My dad, during my late teens. You know, if they were around today, he would have liked you. Even though you’re a human.”

“And I guess my parents would have definitely liked you too,” Anne said. “Even though you’re a talking frog.” 

Both laughed before calming down. 

“You now, Wally, after that adventure we had looking for the moss man...” she began carefully, looking at her phone, sliding through pictures of her life back home. “I can’t help but think about what you said. About being in a new place, meeting new people, being the person you want to be without letting judgment control you.” She lowered her phone. “That was really good advice, you know.”

“I got to admit that Wartwood has become something interesting since you arrived,” the one-eyed frog replied. “Can’t imagine what this place will be like once you leave.”

As soon as he said that, Anne’s heart felt heavy. All month she had been thinking about home, back to her old life and with humanity itself. But as she adjusted here, she could barely remember what she was even living at all back in her world. 

Here in this valley, she gotten to experience a whole new culture, meet new faces, and even admit that she loved the bug-based dishes. Not to mention just how colorful this world was compared to the dreary, grayish town she grew up in back home. 

She couldn’t imagine what her life will be once she left Wartwood. 

“Thing is, Wally,” she sighed. “That’s the issue I’ve been dealing with. Like...part of me doesn’t want to leave.”

The adult frog looked over her in surprise. 

“I mean, I do miss home, but this place has been like home! And I don’t want to leave Sprig, the Planters, Wartwood, especially you, Wally!”

“Well, that makes me want to tear up just a bit,” he expressed, although calmly. 

“I mean, look how much we’ve bonded in just two days,” Anne added. “I don’t want to leave that. Any of this. Sure, you guys were a bunch of jerks in the beginning, but look what we’ve all been through together. I’m not afraid to admit that you guys really mean a lot to me. And it kills me inside every time I think about the day I’ll have to leave.” 

Although Anne was breaking inside, she forced herself not to tear up. Wally sensed this and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, Anne, I appreciate you feel that way about us,” he said gently. “And no doubt we’ll all be sad the day you go.” Then he gave her a warm smile. “But hey, if you managed to come here...who says you can’t come here again?”

She stared at him. “You really think that’s possible, Wally?”

“Well, why not?” he chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to have the best of both worlds! Then that way we’ll always be together!”

Anne couldn’t help but smile at the thought. For as long as she had been in Wartwood, there were so many things she wanted to share about her world. Maybe if what Wally said was right, she could completely change this place for the better, make it more innovated with her 21st century knowledge. 

“The best of both worlds sounds amazing,” she said with a yawn. 

Wally watched as her eyes slowly closed, laying onto her cot. The phone slid out of her grasp right next to her waist.

He chuckled softly as he draped a blanket over her. 

“Nice kid,” he sighed before going to sleep himself.  ------------

So what do you think?  I hope for more episodes featuring Anne and Wally! 

[selfcallednowhere]

February 3, 2018 Dallas, TX

They opened with "James K. Polk." This surprised me--I expected them to keep doing it during the Quiet Storm section cos that was what they did the previous two nights. I'm honestly feeling pretty burned out on this song live after seeing it a million times--seeing it done acoustically during Quiet Storm was different enough to keep me interested, but when it's just the normal arrangement I am yeh rather sick of it.

Next they played "Damn Good Times," the second song all three nights on this trip, which I very much am not sick of even though I've seen that one a bunch too. It's one of my favorite live songs, actually--it's just SO FUN. "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal" was next and also superfun, even though the presence of Curt would've made it way better.

After that Flans said that this theater was "the box that rocks," and then, gesturing at the balcony, told us that we'd be meeting our accusers one by one and then all our verdicts would be read.

After "All Time What," Flans that it was time for the "fastest-singing portion" of the show, and that they were going to try to sing together. Then John said that this show was like a re-enactment of the instore they'd done earlier in the day cos so many of the same people were there. Then Flans said that he'd gotten our verdicts and we were all guilty.

I didn't really try to think about what song has them both singing really fast and singing together when he said it, but if I had I probably would've been able to figure out what the song was: "Letterbox." I was really excited to see it again, cos it's one of my top top top favorite songs.

After "New York City," Flans said that the show was "going too fast." Then he made them turn the house lights on for a "beard assessment." He said the beards looked "shockingly natural," and ordered a "round of beards" for everyone.

John said that they were going to be playing a lot of new songs and it was "a burden" and "a weight pressing down and crushing everything." I don't understand why they kept acting like we were going to hate seeing the new songs so much--I loved it and actually wished they would play more new songs.

Then Flans said that what they were aiming for was volume, and "as Bob Dylan said, there's just too much sound." Then they played a little bit, and Flans said if you buy I Like Fun you can get "all your favorite classical themes in one set."

Then they played "Mrs. Bluebeard." John really mangled the lyrics when they played it for the first time two days prior to this, but then the next day he did a lot better and only screwed up a couple of times and I was proud of him! But this time he was back to screwing up all over the place again. I was amused because afterwards he said "That's how it goes!" NO IT ISN'T JOHN. (Yes, I of course understand that he knew that too and that was the joke.)

Next they played "Music Jail, Pt. 1 & 2" which is one of my fav Glean songs, so I'm glad that one is still in the set.

After "Particle Man" and then "The Famous Polka," Flans said that they were playing two sets, which gives plenty of time to email and text.

Then:

JL: We're playing a lot of new songs, so bear with us. JF: No one likes the new songs, John. But we've already locked the doors!

Then there was this really obnoxious and probably drunk woman screaming for "When the Lights Come On," which they were most likely going to play anyway because they'd already played it at every other show on the tour. They said they weren't gonna play it and she just kept screaming for it. Then Flans said that they were gonna play it but now they weren't because of her, and then she started yelling "BUT I LOVE YOU," which made Flans tell a story about how they played at Bonnaroo which "is like being on the surface of Mars, you want to be anywhere else, and we were getting paid," and he met someone who told him how TMBG meant so much to them "and by the way, I love '500 Miles.'" Then the obnoxious woman went back to screaming, and I guess Flans figured there was no way to get her to shut the fuck up besides playing the song, so he asked John if he wanted to play it and John said "Sure. Fuck it." So then they played it and it was COMPLETELY AWESOME like it had been the other times I'd seen it, but also I was just happy to not have to hear that woman screaming anymore, and I'm sure all the rest of the crowd and the band and well anyone else in the building actually were too.

After "Your Racist Friend" they played "Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes," YES YES YES. Even though I'd just seen it the day before I was ecstatic, since it's one of my fav songs and I've only seen it live a handful of times.

Next came "Cyclops Rock"--I'm really happy that's one of the Mink Car songs they've brought back into the set. It's great live--SO ROCKIN'.

Afterwards, Flans asked John about the current political climate.

JL: It's awesome! JF: Who needs nightmares when you have daymares? Things are gonna be great...later.

John introduced "The Mesopotamians" by saying that when he was a kid in 3000 BC there was a TV show about them.

Then came the set break and then Quiet Storm, the first three songs of which were the same as the previous two nights: "Older" and "I Like Fun" with the contra-alto clarinet, then "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" on accordion. Before the third Flans said they were "Tres Might Be Giants" and made Marty give a sample of what he can do with the electronic drums.

After that there was something that really upset me:

JF: How are you, John? How are you doing with that accordion? JL: I'm ok. The accordion...just have to deal with it.

This is definitely not the first time I've witnessed him complaining about how much he hates playing accordion these days and I'm sure it won't be the last, but it still really upsets me every single time because seeing him play it is pretty much my favorite thing.

Then Flans was talking about the storm sound effects--he reassured us that they are in fact not just fans blowing in mics.

Then they played MY THEME SONG. Nothing is ever going to be as special as seeing it for the first time the day before, but I was still unbelievably excited to see it again.

After that they played something they hadn't played either of the previous two days: "Meet James Ensor." So that was an unexpected surprise. I love that song, and I thought it worked really well in this format.

Then the band came back on stage. Flans introduced Dan as being "the finest guitarist in They Might Be Giants."

Next they played "Istanbul." I'm so unbelievably sick of this song live, but I do at least like the crazy jam session at the end of it. Flans jumped up on Marty's drum riser for part of it and it was silly.

Afterwards, Flans said he was sick of that acoustic music and that it "reminded him of his folkie days." Then he asked whoever was in charge of the A/C to turn it on (he was right, it was for some reason really warm even though it was chilly outside). Then he said that the next song they had to play "out of contractual obligation to our band."

The song was "Number Three," which is superfun live. It's become one of the Pink songs I've seen the most cos they've been playing it a lot the last few years, but I always really enjoy it.

Afterwards Flans said that they wanted to thank "the guy holding the beer perilously close to the end of his fingertips."

Then:

JF: This next song is from the album Glean, everybody. JL: That's right. JF: All the way back to 2015! JL: Not a song that we have to do. A song that we get to do. JF: Think about the good old days. 2015. Things seemed so...so normal then. No dystopian...hellscape.

They played "Answer," and then John put his accordion on and Dan came over to the keyboard. Flans said that he was getting on the keyboard "where he belongs," and I was like "Ummmm how does the keyboard player feel about you saying that?" But HEY if you ask me John does belong with his accordion on, not behind the keyboard.

The next song was a major show highlight for me: "Put Your Hand Inside the Puppet Head"! This is a very special song to me, it was my very first fav TMBG song (in other words the one I'd most rock out to as a 5-year-old hearing my dad play his cassette of Pink), and I still love it dearly now. I've only seen it a handful of times, so it was a big deal.

Next they played "Doctor Worm," which wasn't as big a deal since I've seen it a million times, but still really fun as always.

Flans was mentioning where the next few shows are going to be, and said if we know anyone in those places we should tell them to come to the shows.

Then:

JL: If you don't know anyone in those towns...the first letter of each city...backwards spells out...an important message. I know it seems like a random tour where you like...it's like drawing a star on the map. There really is a reason for it. JF: Our booking agent is keeping it a secret from us. JL: Yes, he hasn't told us what the message was. We haven't been able to figure it out. JF: But it appears the letters spell out some kind of swear word. JL: Yes. Something very harsh. JF: It seems to be some kind of swear word and then the words "you guys." We're not sure what it means. It's impossible to know what that message could mean. JL: Before we get off-track here. Apparently--there's a thing called the Kessler effect. [The name of the venue was The Kessler.] And I believe it originated here. What it is, is when stuff in space starts smashing into each other and...all of space is destroyed. Do you guys know about this? And I don't know why but this theater is the very first part of that chain. The Kessler effect. JF: I first heard about it when we were described as the Kessler effect of bands. JL: I mean, yeh. We've smashed into, um...Soup Dragons, I believe.

(I thought he might've been making this whole thing up, but my friend Ant, who's very knowledgeable about space stuff, informed me that no it's a real thing, it actually is when stuff in space smashes into other stuff and they break apart, and it can actually be really dangerous. The "all of space is destroyed" part I'm pretty sure he made up though!)

Then they played "The End of the Tour," which is so good live (though I do think it works best as a show closer).

Next came "Spy," lots of fun as always. At each show I'd been to John played a sample of something as part of his improv part--this time it was "Here Comes Santa Claus," which was silly. I also managed to scream during the parts when Flans was trying to get everyone in the crowd to scream, even though I was feeling almost weak from excitedly singing along with every song and screaming after they played songs I particularly loved.

Then they played "I Left My Body," which was the last I Like Fun song of the night.  I really loved all the new songs I got to see them play, but I just wish they'd played even more!

They closed out the main set with "Twisting," which was, as always, COMPLETELY KICKASS. For some reason Dan was singing the "she wants" backing vocals instead of John--I'm not sure what was up with that and I didn't like it.

They started the first encore with "Let Me Tell You About My Operation." This is my current favorite Flansong, so I love seeing it live.

Flans said that the next song was their new single, which I was confused by because they'd already played "I Left My Body" (which wasn't a single exactly, but the closest thing the album had). But he was just joking--it was actually "Why Does the Sun Shine?", which is of course very much not a new song. John informed us that things that are a gas on the sun included Fiestaware, which he held up his red mug when he said (holding tea instead of coffee this time, I noticed, as evidenced by the string and tag sticking over the edge). He paused for a long time before the list of things that the heat and light of the sun are caused by the nuclear reaction between, but finally it was "Stuff! Things! Items! And objects!" He is so silly!

The first song of the second encore was "Wicked Little Critta," and they closed the show the same way they did the night before: with "Birdhouse in Your Soul." A perfect close to a perfect night.

John continued on his "stripey shirts, nothing but stripey shirts" streak, so he was 3/3 on this particular show trip for me. This time it was a black and white stripey t-shirt that I don't think I've ever seen him wear before.

[lhugbereth]

So ummm I have about 2700 words of (mostly) Promptio smut, but it isn’t actually finished, or edited or....anything. But I’ll put some of it up as a teaser I guess. Might motivate me to write more. 

It’s the third chapter of Under the Skin, a tattoo/band AU I’ve been working on for...too long now. It should have been done months ago. I’m awful. 

(I’m also attempting to add some CindyLu to it but am feeling very stuck. Writing Luna is tough. Writing is tough. Advice/suggestions/help appreciated. Please. I’m so lost) 

SFW teaser under the cut v v v 

Helping Noct and Iggy load up the car would have gone a lot faster had either of them actually bothered to show up.

Gladio really shouldn’t have been surprised. The two of them had been dating for as long as they’d had the band together, and they often disappeared in the excitement after a show. Noct would whisk Ignis off to a bathroom stall, or Iggy would pull Noct into a backstage changing room, and they wouldn’t be seen again until they’d both worked off some excess energy.

But this time, it should have been Gladio’s turn. At least, that’s what he thought as he tossed another speaker into the back of their equipment van. The longer he kept Prompto - Prompto! - waiting back in the bar, the less confidence he had that the cute blond wouldn’t go home with someone else first. One look at those gorgeous blue eyes and anyone would fall him, after all. Hell, maybe someone was in there flirting with Prom at that very moment - someone who wasn’t stuck loading up instruments all alone because his stupid bandmates couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

As soon as they got paid, the first thing Gladio was doing was hiring some roadies.

Eventually, he finished up. Ignis and Noct still weren’t back, so he shot them each a text telling them not to wait up for him later. He toweled off and locked up the van, then headed back into the Garage ready to offer up a dozen apologies for the delay.

None of them, it turned out, were necessary. The moment Prompto caught sight of him from the bar (it was easier now that the crowd had mostly dispersed), he was jumping down from his stool and practically running over to greet him.

“Cindy told me everything!” he said excitedly, bright blue eyes wide. “You guys got signed!”

Caught off-guard, Gladio could only nod. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Noct’s got connections with an agent at Citadel Records, and she decided to give us a shot. No big deal, really.”

Prompto, apparently, disagreed. “It’s a huge deal! Did you know Cor used to be in a band? Something weird, like, uh, Accordion or Apocalypse, or --”

“Accordo. Yeah, uh, I know,” Gladio smiled, running his fingers back through his hair.

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, he’ll be so excited when he hears one of his clients is gonna be famous.” On reflex, and totally without thinking, Prompto reached forward to trace the tips of his fingers over Gladio’s chest piece. The beak of the eagle was still little more than an outline, but it looked good nonetheless. Even Gladio was proud of it - especially with the way Prompto’s eyes shone as they drank it in. “I can’t believe I got to be a part of rockstar history.”

Gladio laughed. Laid his hand atop the blond’s on his chest and held him there, freckled cheeks slowly tinting red beneath the dim lights of the club. “Still got a long way to go before I hit rockstar status. But maybe, y’know, you could stick around, keep bein’ a part of...this?”

He meant the tattoos. He meant the music. He meant anything and everything Prompto could imagine and more.

The blond blushed a shade darker at however he chose to interpret the words. The smile he’d been wearing stretched wider, and his fingers curled against Gladio’s chest. An answer, perhaps, followed by a question of his own. “Did you still wanna come over tonight?”

The unmistakable yes came in the form of Gladio’s mouth on his.

~~~~

“It’s not much, but. Well. Here we are.”

They were standing outside of Prompto’s apartment building, essentially an old tenement that had been patched up ages ago and left standing on the edge of downtown. Beyond the distant horizon of Insomnia’s outer walls, the sun was nearly set, and the sky was painted in delicate orange and pinks. The latter reflected the color of Prom’s cheeks in that moment as, shyly, he explained that he hadn’t cleaned since the last time his parents paid him a visit.

“I live with my little sister. I’m used to it,” Gladio grinned, intentionally leaving out that most of the mess at home was actually his own and that Iris was the only one who ever bothered to tidy up anyway. But his answer seemed to relax a little of the tension in Prompto’s shoulders, which was the point, and then the blond was unlocking the door to let them both inside.

It was as small on the inside as it had appeared from the front. The door opened into a humble living room, complete with a loveseat (black pleather), a coffee table covered in magazines, sketchbooks, empty soda cans, and takeout boxes, and a stereo system against the far wall. Above that were countless posters - the longer Gladio focused on them, the more familiar faces jumped out - of some of Insomnia’s most famous heavy metal bands: The Glaives, DeathMog, 10,000 Needles, and even The Call of MalBoro. A few of those, he noticed, had been autographed in scrawling silver ink.

While Prompto scooped up the boxes and cans that littered the table, Gladio took a few moments to admire the collection. “I didn’t realize you were so big into music,” he said, smiling, and glanced back to cast the blond a look over his shoulder. “Looks like you even got to meet Nyx Ulric. I’m jealous.”

Freckled cheeks brightened even in the apartment’s dim light. “A-actually, Cor got that for me last year. I’ve never been to a Glaives concert, they’re always sold out.” Hastily, he dumped his armful of garbage into a half-empty trash bag, and dusted off his shirt. “Do you like them?”

“Sure, I’ve been to a couple shows.” Make that at least a dozen, Gladio winced mentally. His father got free tickets to just about every concert performed in the city, probably a perk of being both a legendary guitarist and best friends with the Regis Caelum, the King of Rock himself. Usually, attending felt like a chore, but now…. “Maybe I can snag a seat for you next time I go.”

The offer had Prompto beaming, his smile so bright it was staggering as he rounded the table and closed in. “Wow! You’d do that for me? I mean, I’ll pay, of course, but —“

“Don’t worry about it.” Large hands welcomed thin shoulders in an embrace. “My treat.”

He could practically feel Prompto’s face burning, especially as the blond leaned into him. Soft skin brushed his jaw, and eyelashes kissed the side of his neck as Prom closed his eyes. “Gladio.”

The word was a question. A timid request that took them back to the warmth and energy of the Garage, where they had felt like the only two people in a crowded room. Now they really were alone, however, and the attraction, the need that had blossomed between them was free to grow.

It started with a kiss. Silent, wordless, as Gladio turned his face to the side and met Prompto’s lips. Slow, soft, hands exploring every curve, every edge, drawing each other closer in time with their quickening heartbeats. Eager and determined not to miss a second of this moment they had both wanted for so long.

Prompto, shorter by at least a head, found himself swallowed up in Gladio’s arms within moments. They wrapped around him, strong and familiar, lifted him up onto his toes; hugged him until his body felt on fire and his lungs burned with the kiss. Still, he didn’t pull away, couldn’t because every fiber of his being wanted, no, needed this more desperately than air. When he kissed Gladio, all the weeks and months of waiting, of not knowing, of hoping, were poured into the act. His tongue claimed Gladio’s mouth, drank in the tastes that left him reeling, dizzy, breathless. Intoxicated.

Until, at last, it was Gladio who was forced to break for air.

“Prom...gods.” Amber eyes, nearly black in the shadows of the room, struggled for focus. “I, uh. I got something to say.”

The blond swallowed down a breath. “Y-yeah?”

“I have never wanted anything as bad as I wanna fuck you.”

O-ohh.

“If you don’t stop me right now,” he added in a voice like whiskey melting Prompto from the inside out. “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m taking you to bed and we’re not gonna quit ‘til morning. We’re gonna get wild.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re gonna get hot.”

“Gladio....”

Large fingers stroked back through blond locks. Clamped at the base and tugged Prompto’s head back, just out of reach of his mouth. “We’re gonna get rough.”

There. The pupils of those heavenly blue eyes blew out wide, and he felt Prom shudder against him. His lips trembled as he tried to respond, all the while his gaze never leaving Gladio’s face. “Y...yes. Please. I want…. I want everything.”

So, he’d guessed right. Heat boiled in Gladio’s own gut as, once more closing his mouth over Prompto’s, he lifted him off the ground. Held him tight until surprisingly strong thighs gripped around him, and then they were moving, blindly but steadily, through the small apartment to the bedroom at the back.

[momestuck]

Let’s read Hiveswap Friendsim... volume 7!

So. Our narrator is like... building something resembling a functional social circle. Something resembling. We’ve made all of 13 friends! That’s a lotta friends!

But we’re not done. Oh no. This one is called “of business, flagrantly illegal” (I should like... actually report the titles lol) and we are going to meet...

Remele is another cerulean girl, with a similar multiple eyeball situation as Vriska/Aranea’s Vision Eightfold. Funny, we’re getting a lot of that colour... it’s almost as if the Homestuck fandom is packed with lesbians obsessed with Vriska. Ha. Ha.

Also Konyyl, olive, cf Nepeta. Buffest troll we’ve seen yet, unless we count Equius.

Both these girls look pretty fighty.

Remele

Remele was written by Cee L. Kyle, who also did Bromya and Zebruh.

We end up in an art gallery. We can spot the obvious ones: Mona Lisa, American Gothic, The Scream. The others... maybe someone who knows more about art can let me know.

There’s a lot of purplebloods here, but before we can leave, Remele shows up.

Is that an accordion in the soundtrack? Also god, good luck your shirt over that horn Remele... guess that’s why she’s got such a wide neck.

Anyway her quirk is that she puts the letter ‘e’ on the end of random words.

We learn a little about the narrator.

Let’s try praising the art... sure enough, flattery works. We get a tour.

Faygo as a high class drink... well played. That fits.

We learn that gore and ‘religious themes’ i.e. clowns are what sells to highblood trolls. The narrator seems to have some knowledge of purplebloods, which is weird because I think we’ve only met them on a non-canon (i.e. non-friendship) branch.

The portrait art is pretty good in this game.

Could this be... Equius? Probably not, tbh. I’m not sure if he’s even been born yet.

She’s about to tell us about her webcomic (omg), but then a reporter (teal text box) shows up. Apparently she’s in a legal suit over her comic being fanwork. We ask how serious it is.

Gorjek... hmm, best not mention whose bathrobe we’re (still?) wearing.

She gets the idea to get us to do an art heist for her.

I am extremely down for an art heist. Fortunately the options agree...

Previously degree of enthusiasm has mattered, but I doubt it will here. All the same, let me click ‘hell fucking yes.’ We get a real choice: steal the keys or bust down the door.

Let’s try the subtle approach first.

...hold on a minute. I am not very confused. I thought the friendship routes are canon. Does this mean that we failed to befriend Polypa? Or that canon is an arbitrary and fake concept and time isn’t real?

The strange part is, previously the narration in this chapter mentioned the mall movie theatre, which was on the other Polypa branch. This might be a “don’t think about it too much” situation, or it might be a sign of timeline shenanigans. I mean, this is a Homestuck game...

This would be a very confusing chapter if we’d not played all the earlier branches a couple of chapters ago!

Luckily, Remele intervenes and saves us from the purpleblood guy! ...wow, that’s pretty gutsy, given how OP purplebloods are.

We get an action scene, in which we stab the guy with a paintbrush.

That’s a cool axe portrait for one scene! Most of the time they don’t bother to depict stuff like weapons.

So surprisingly, this isn’t the death branch, and we agree to do the heist another day. Apparently having a customer die is excellent news...

So we get to be a muse for a second time.

OK, side branches. What if we tell her her art is derivative?

We get called a ‘plebe’ is what. No surprises there.

Now, to the heist. Let’s try breaking the door down.

Remele picks the lock with paintbrush.

I can safely say that is not an experience I’ve ever had.

Inside, we get a new background...

Lasers ahoy. We are short enough to shimmy over to the alarm, and Remele guides us to press the right buttons.

Remele nicks a painting which she says is derivative of her earlier work before she tried to make money from her work, and now wants to rip off in return. But then security shows up!

She bullshits her way past the guard with the power of confidence and privilege, and we leave with the painting. What’s gonna go wrong?

Ah. After all that... we don’t end up Friends(TM).

I kind of like that ending actually. Playing with the established pattern.

And that’s the last ending for Remele. Nice.

Artists, huh.

Konyyl

Konyyl is by Aysha U. Farah as well. We don’t take long to find her...

Unusually, her track has vocals - though no lyrics I can make out. It’s pretty Fantasy.

She demands to know if we’re who she’s waiting for. Apparently she finds it plausible we’re a woman. I guess we really are a AFGNCAAP. Or at least an AFGNAP, since we seem to be something of a nerd and probably from a Western country.

Apparently she’s waiting for someone called countryyladyy453. Well, that typing quirk sounds familiar... what does she want with Skylla?

Skylla shows up. Lady is with her, so we can trust we didn’t go down the branch where Lady got dognapped.

The narration hangs a lampshade on the ambiguity.

I am really enjoying the reappearance of characters from prior episodes!

And indeed it turns out the story this time concerns that prior episode. We’re here to rescue lusii! Lususes?

So I guess Konyyl is some kind of mercenary.

There’s a cute interaction where Konyyl accidentally calls Skylla pretty...

They get in an argument... Skylla calls Konyyl a coward. We get a choice of how to defuse... say we know people, or ask if Konyyl works on spec. Well, no self-respecting professional would take the latter, so let’s draw in some of our other friends. Some of them might be useful...

A great idea! Unfortunately...

Ahaha. Well played.

OK, so let’s try and get her to work on spec. Which in this case means that the bandits probably stole a bunch of other stuff, and she could get paid with loot.

She goes with it.

However, Skylla isn’t coming. Because Konyyl is horny for her she’ll put us at risk.

Despite the narrator’s expectations, we have little trouble tracking down the bandits. New background, hey!

But unfortunately, along with the ship is... an adult troll. Tall, dark grey skin, big old claws.

She mentions someone called Azdaja who’s usually the brains of an operation. From the description, probably a yellowblood. Maybe we’ll meet him later.

We get our real choice: follow the pirate into the warehouse, or board the ship.

Let’s do the ship. I feel like this will lead to us dying in space, but that’ll be fun right?

BIG WORM

Unfortunately, the adult troll is on board the ship. She mind controls us into submission (cerulean) and... we end up in space! Apparently with a shipment of lusii on board. This troll does not seem to be able to fully mind control us, but like Vriska, can only put us to sleep. Konyyl, on the other hand, is fully affected.

The ship is hit by something, and starts to re-enter the atmosphere. We learn the narrator didn’t really want to go to Alternia.

This time, we make it to an escape pod... but Konyyl’s had it with us.

Hey, died in space, just like I said!

Now let’s try the warehouse.

Konyyl marches up to the door. We see some lususnappers chilling in a break room, and suggest a different door.

Konyyl remains unimpressed with us, but we keep going. And blunder right into the break room anyway.

Konyyl massacres them. The narrator starts to feel... less than great at ‘a bunch of kids getting massacred’.

Konyyl, however, is surprisingly gentle with us over this panic attack. The game is, naturally, one step ahead of my commentary...

And, after that... she loots the bodies. “It’s a lot messier and takes way longer than it does in videogames.” We comment a little on her blackrom attraction to Skylla... and she gives us a phone! A phone of our own!

Hooray! Now we can actually stay in touch with our 15 friends!

That was a neat little episode I think. I enjoyed the callbacks... though I’m still confused about which Polypa route was canon.