#big ticket fest

[aeolianblues]

They’ve emailed me a link to apply for media accreditation for Osheaga, should I give it a shot?

[grassbreads]

I sure as hell not about to start internet arguments about this, but why do people think that everyone who goes to burning man is rich?

Regardless of anything else good or bad about it, that’s just like demonstrably untrue

[sad--tree]

well shit. just checked out the lineup 4 bluesfest this year and i may have 2 actually brave the crowds 4 once. there might just be enough ppl id wanna see to make it worth it, altho tbh matthew good is almost enough for that on his own lol coz like. matthew good!!! that's the music of my freakin childhood man!! (*the most canadian sentiment ever)

[dearreader]

alright i’m going back to bed but all i’ll say is this, if ANYONE ruins this again like last time i will commit murder.

[aroaceofthesea]

Ah feels so good to have the bono cultural 😊😊

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hello, I have a request

One where the reader flirts with Spencer and asks him on a date, he is all blushing and stuttering.

Have a nice day!! 💖

༉‧₊˚. 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairings: spencer reid x plus size burlesque dancer!reader

— summary: spencer has friends all over, but he chooses to visit his favorite who just so happens to be a dancer and completely out of his league.

— warnings: literally none! this is just a big fluff-fest!!

— wc: 648

⋆ a/n: HEYYY so i don't know if you guys can tell but i'm dabbling in all kinds of au's and stuff? they're just so fun to write and really shakes up my writing :]

masterlist | AO3

Spencer gives a shy smile to your co-worker at the ticket booth as he lets him in, bidding him a small but soft thanks.

Though the club had a few more hours until opening and he really shouldn’t be there, everyone knew the drill. Spencer tries to come and visit you before your shows just to get that one-on-one time with you before you’re all glammed up to go perform.

Perhaps Spencer should thank Penelope for choosing the BAU’s rare outing to be at a Burlesque club, because he met you, one of the prettiest dancers. It made sense that Penelope would frequent here, and now he found himself here often too.

He takes at the table he normally does when the bartender drying out glasses tells him you’ll be down in a second. Spencer takes the time to drag his eyes around the interior of the room. It looks so different during the day, the lack of lustful yet comedy ridden performances gives off the impression of a small theater.

Though you own the place, you don’t often sit on the sidelines, choosing to dance with your girls, though you try to limit the amount of dance numbers you give yourself so the others are able to have more stage time. You’re just selfless like that and it causes a swarm of butterflies to flutter around in Spencer’s stomach.

Spencer isn’t at all surprised when you approach him in a frilly robe, your face bare and hair pulled out of your face. 

“Spence, hi!” You always greet him like it’s the first time you’d seen him, your large smile on your face to match the excitement in your body. 

“Hey!” He says as he pulls you into a respectful hug. You make a point to deepen the embrace, giving him a squeeze. When you pull away, you almost melt at the sight of his cheeks blushed that admirable pink hue.

“Couldn’t wait until tonight to see me, huh?” You tease as you sit down next to him. “I wish I could,” He begins with a frown, “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to be pretty busy these next couple of days and I just wanted to tell you, y’know, so you don’t think I disappeared on you or something.”

You laugh that twinkling laugh that sounds like bells in his ears. “You’re such a gentleman, Spence. But thanks for letting me know, really. I look forward to our chats.”

“Yeah,” He admits bashfully, “Me too.”

“You know…” You began, “We don’t always have to meet here.” You’re nervous, it’s written clear as day all over your face and in the way you nibbled on your lower lip. “What do you mean?” Spencer asks with furrowed brows. 

“What I mean is, I'm asking you on a date and trying to not psych myself out of it.”

Oh God, Spencer’s heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Y - yeah.”

“Yeah?” You asked in amusement. “Yeah, I mean no - I mean! I mean yes, I would like to go on a date with you.” His face flushes an even darker red through his stuttering, and a place of sickening endearment worms its way into your heart.

“Great!” You exclaim with a sigh of relief. “You know… I have a few hours to spare before the club opens. How about brunch?”

“That sounds good.” 

“Cool, just let me get dressed real fast and I’ll be back down in a sec.” 

He watches in admiration as you walk away and he smiles to himself, already thinking of ways to pay for your food before you do it yourself. You’re quite difficult when it comes to things like that, but Spencer feels like it’s a battle that he looks forward to, a fight that he wouldn’t mind having for the rest of his life if you would let him.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

if I remember right, a year or two ago you made a list of recommendations for the Edinburgh Fringe. Any recommendations for this year? Already got Steffan on the list, obviously

I did! Okay, okay, here's what I've got this year. Caveat: I personally have not been up there yet (I'm going in a few days), but these are things I saw in preview/have heard great things about.

Steffan Alun: Free Standup, but at What Cost

Venue 156: PBH's Free Fringe @ Banshee Labyrinth - Banquet Hall, 21.30-22.30

Back again! Eighth Fringe, this. The show is an hour, but that includes a 15 minute warm-up act, then Steff for 45 mins. He does this so that reviewers won't come and ruin the vibe.

Anyway this year he talks a bit about being Welsh and how he is therefore grumpy with Bristolian Tesco self-checkout machines

.

Jake Baker: Rule Breaker!

Venue 78: PBH's Free Fringe @ Canons' Gait - Lower, 16.30-17.30

I love Jake, he's lovely. He's a gentle soul and has an excellent delivery style; very warm and deceptively witty. Normally he goes with Just The Tonic and is given a searing hot basement in the sky that smells of mould for a room, but this year he's in Canons' Gait, which is much much nicer.

His blurb: A rule-breaker, a risk taker, a wave-maker and a convention-shaker – all phrases never before used to describe Jake Baker. But when a frustrating game of Alan Turing-themed Monopoly leaves him questioning the laws of the game, he finds himself turning that analytical impulse to bigger things.

.

Stephanie Laing: Rudder

Venue 300: Underbelly, George Square - The Wee Coo, 14.50-15.50

This show is particularly Tumblr-friendly, actually; it's described as 'neurodiversity-led'. However, it's a show with a content warning, although all the ticket page is saying is "themes" (insert Stephen Fry meme here); so, <SPOILER> she talks about withdrawing consent while sleeping with a FIB, and him continuing anyway. She talks about it in a very gentle way, avoiding Big Words, and it's very heavy on aftercare </SPOILER>

Her blurb: A comedy dance show about balance. Stephanie has a history of falling over a lot, accidentally kneeing herself in the face, and falling in love with total kn*bheads. In this show she uses a mixture of stand-up and dance to talk about bodies, sex, dancing, liking yourself, consent and healing. Also, there are cartoon bears and burlesque.

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Erin McKinnie: The Faff Chronicles

Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 4, 16.50-17.50

An Edinburgh local! Good solid standup for those who like such things. New-ish, but one to watch, she's very good. Don't be surprised to see her take off

Her blurb: What a faff! Erin McKinnie, a rising star on the Scottish comedy circuit, talks about faffing through early adulthood – from rogue adventures to living the "below-deck life" on cruise ships – she finds the funny in every bizarre encounter in this uplifting show that asks: Do we really need a life plan? Or... are we all just winging it? A brilliant, snort-worthy giggle-fest about exiting your 20s, facing life indecision and chasing answers for those big questions, all the while trying to convince your mother that this is a real job...

.

Alexander Bennett: Emotional Daredevil

Venue 24: Gilded Balloon Patter House - Coorie, 18.20-19.20

Dark feelings show with a really positive, optimistic message and a fun concept. It uses audience participation, but that's not compulsory, you're safe.

Blurb: I'm the emotional daredevil, and for my next feat, I need someone's help. A show about risk, for the unsatisfied and traumatised, from a Chortle Award nominee

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Alex Franklin: Gurl Code

Venue 61: Underbelly, Cowgate - Delhi Belly, 20.25-21.25

Alex does a fun thing each year where she takes her publicity budget and rather than spending it on publicity, she hides it somewhere in Edinburgh and then reveals a clue to its location every day. This tells you something about her, I think

Her blurb: In 2024, trans girl Alex (me) started HRT. Now she (me) feels the most alive she's (me's) ever felt; and she wants to make you feel alive too, or die trying. A ludicrous, musical, chaotic, joyful show about the colours of the world becoming slowly brighter and giving people furniture via the tube. Also being trans.

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Character Building Experience

Venue 49: Bedlam Theatre - Bedlam Theatre, 20.00-21.00

It's a D&D show - the MC Sasha Ellen makes a bunch of 40-minute simple campaigns and a selection of pre-rolled characters to do them, and then gets three comedians each time to play them. You know the drill. Good quality fun, and different each time, since you'll never see the same campaign/comedian mix.

.

2 Truths, 1 Lie

Multiple venues and times (search the EdFringe app or website to see them all), but I recommend catching the 3pm show on either the 25th or 26th August at Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 1 for reasons I shall not share here (ooh, mysterious)

Fun panel-like show! Often MC'd by Steff, especially if you catch one of the 3pm shows. The format is:

Three comedians each declare a statement. Two are true, but one comedian is lying. The MC doesn't know the liar, nor does the audience. The audience gets to ask questions of the comedians; at the end, they vote on who they think the liar is.

(The prize for winning is a smug sense of satisfaction.)

.

Anyway, once I'm up there I will possibly have more, but currently, that's my list

[kings-roar]

credit card: prologue

summary: Yuu gets invited on their first journey to one of their schoolmates’ hometowns! But with the meager allowance given by that stingy headmage, they don’t think they have enough to cover the travel. Luckily for them, they’re dating a super rich (and surprisingly generous) boyfriend. notes: this is part one of my series: credit card! details/warnings: gender-neutral pronouns, yuu instead of y/n, adult!yuu, established relationship, leoyuu, follows EN server

ao3 link: xxx

It was on a lazy Friday evening in the botanical gardens when Yuu was approached by an energetic ball of energy, otherwise known as Kalim Al-Asim, and his childhood companion Jamil. Yuu looks up just as Kalim barrels into them with a hug. They laugh as Jamil begins to scold Kalim, reminding the latter to be aware of boundaries, something that is hardly in the young heir’s vocabulary.

“How can I help you, Kalim?” The prefect moves their homework to the side as they reciprocate the second year’s hug.

“We’re going on a trip!” he exclaims excitedly. Yuu tilts their head to the side.

“Oh? Well, congrats! I hope you have fun.”

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with us!”

‘… Huh?’

“Kalim,” Jamil’s voice sounds tired as he places a hand on his classmate’s shoulder. “You can’t just tell someone they’re going somewhere. You have to ask them first.”

“Oh, right! Well, Yuu, do you wanna come home with us?”

Jamil smacks a hand to his forehead as Yuu continues to become more and more confused. What does he mean, “come home with us”? Is Crowley kicking them out of the campus? Did Grim do something whilst with the Heartslabyul duo? Yuu thought they could trust those two, but maybe they were wrong.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Jamil explains with a tired sigh. “Kalim and I are heading back home, to the Scalding Sands, for the Yasamina River Fireworks Fest.”

“And since you’re from another world, I’d love to show you my hometown, Yuu!” Kalim adds with a beaming smile. “We got six VIP seats, so you and Grim can both tag along! Oh, maybe I should hit up the guys from my Pop Music club too!”

“Wait a minute, you are one of the organizers of the event, Kalim, and as your attendant, I will also be at your side. Inviting Grim and Yuu last minute is one thing, but adding even MORE people whilst we’re busy is too much.”

“It’ll be fine, Jamil! The more the merrier, as they say. Besides, They can take care of their own, right?” Kalim looks towards Yuu with shining, puppy-dog eyes.

“Um, sure.” they nod hesitantly. “But what about the cost? As you can probably guess, Crowley isn’t really on the generous side…”

“Well, the seats for the festival are covered by your tickets. The street food is pretty cheap though! Maybe you could ask the headmage to lend you some more money?”

“Eh, I doubt he’d agree. Grim is also a really big eater.”

Suddenly, a figure jumps down from the tree Yuu was leaning against. The Scarabia duo jumps in surprise, whilst the prefect merely smiled. The figure, ignoring his two underclassmen, ruffles Yuu’s head lightly before sitting down beside them. His long tail curls around Yuu’s wrist as he yawns.

“Hey, Leona-senpai!” Kalim’s the first to recover from the unexpected guest. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice you up in that tree.”

“‘Course you didn’t,” the beastman smirks. “An herbivore like you would never be able to detect a beastman like me.” The comment doesn’t hold much malice in it, if any, and Kalim continues as if nothing happened.

“Well, anyway, were you able to hear everything? Do you wanna come with us?”

“Kalim!”

“What? Leona-senpai is a classmate of ours! Besides, it would be rude not to invite him after hearing us invite Yuu and Grim.”

Leona yawns again as he nestles himself closer to his favourite human, who also happens to be his partner. His eyes are only half open, a sign that he’s just about ready to fall asleep once again.

“A trip to the Scalding Sands? I’ll pass; not a huge fan of large crowds. But if you wanna go, Yuu…” He stares into his lover’s eyes, waiting for a response. The prefect gives it a thought before answering.

“Hm, well I would like to go, since the festival is a once-a-year event. After all, who knows if I’ll be here to experience it again.”

Leona ignores the twinge in his heart at the thought of his favourite herbivore leaving his side, opting instead to reach into his pocket. He takes out a leather wallet, opening it with one hand and expertly fishing out a thin object. The prince places it gently into Yuu’s hand and quickly tucks away his wallet.

“There, now you can enjoy yourself without worrying. Just don’t let that little weasel see it. He might think this means he can spend on whatever without thinking.”

Yuu’s eyes widen as they unfurl their hand, their gaze falling on a shiny black credit card embellished with gold printed words. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR bedazzles the front, and a shiny crown emblem is stamped at the end of his name. The name of some unknown bank, as well as other details, dot the rest of the card. They flip it over and over, studying it carefully to make sure it’s real. Kalim and Jamil’s faces are also aghast as they recognize the card.

“WOAH!” Kalim gasps. “Is that a black card?! I have one too!”

From the sounds of Kalim’s voice, a black card seems exceptionally rare. Perhaps only the rich and royalty could own one. Either way, Yuu remained quite shocked at the mere fact that Leona trusted them enough to loan them his card. After all, he’s a prince! If Yuu ended up misplacing the card, and it got into the wrong hands, then who knows what could happen to THE prince of Sunset Savanna if his royal funds were taken.

“See? You’re all set now. Now hurry up and leave. You’re digging into my date time.”

“All you’re doing is sleeping…” Jamil mumbles, though it still reaches the beastman’s ears. “Whatever. Let’s go, Kalim. Because of you, I have to rearrange a bunch of things.”

“I’ll pass the news onto Grim for ya, Yuu! Be sure to be at the Mirror in the morning!” Kalim waves to the prefect and beastman as he’s dragged off by Jamil.

Once they’re gone, Leona gently brings Yuu closer to him, nuzzling his face into the crook of their neck. The prefect smiles and softly begins to brush their fingers through the prince’s brown locks, eliciting a pleased noise from the back of his throat.

“Thanks for trusting me with your card, Leona. I’ll be sure to keep it safe and use it wisely.”

“‘s all good,” Leona’s words come out slurred, the familiar and comforting scent of the gardens and his love lulling him back into dreamland. “Just want you to enjoy yourself.”

Leona finally falls asleep, and Yuu joins him once they’ve packed all their things. Trying to do homework now would be futile, it seems. The two peacefully slumber in each other’s embrace for the next hour or so, until Grim and Ruggie came to bring them back to their dorms for curfew.

[michellemisfit]

WEEKLY TAG WEDNESDAY

Happiest of birthdays to our dear @energievie who created today's birthday themed tag game. WHOOP WHOOP! 🥳

Thanks for the tag @deedala 🎉 @gallapiech 🤩 @vintagelacerosette 🙌

---

When is yours? 1st March

Where were you born? Switzerland.

How do you feel about your legal name? Are you using it online and/or IRL? Michelle is a nice name. I'm perfectly happy with it. I do however absolutely hate the Beales song I was named after. Think it's one of their worst songs. And I regularly forget that I have a middle name, not even cause I hate it or anything, purely because I think it's pointless. It's Aline.

How about your sign? Do you feel it "fits"? I'm Pisces. And I guess so..? I don't really know much about signs, but people who do tell me it fits, and I believe them. @celestialmickey - come and weigh in! haha

What's your earliest memory related to your birthday? Weirdly enough my earliest *birthday* memory that comes to mind is actually my brother's birthday, when he turned maybe 6? And I would have been 3? My parents had a weird thing about getting me small gifts on his birthday, because I was younger and they didn't want me to get upset I guess? Anyway. There's a photograph of him blowing out his birthday candles and me holding a little sheep stuffed toy that I got for his birthday. I remember loving that sheep a LOT! For my first birthday memory I actually don't really have one until about age 6 or 7? I had a birthday party in our party room and my mum made me invite the whole class, even though I wasn't friends with anyone at school. One of the girls gave me a doll as a present and I genuinly just didn't know what I was supposed to do with this thing and had no idea how to react when I unwrapped it... it was very awkward and I'm sure I was less than graceful. Not the best memory lol

What's one of the best gifts you've ever received? When I first moved to London I felt like I was required to go back to Switzerland for birthdays and Christmas celebrations, even though those were difficult, associated with a lot of bad memories, and never ever fun. I moved to London at the beginning of October with a suitcase of clothes and not much else, and we pretty immediately went on the Dirty Pretty Things break up tour, so i didn't even sleep in my new London room very much for the first 8 weeks. Going back to Switzerland for that Christmas was particularly hard because I hadn't been in London for long, I had barely any stuff that belonged to me, and there was a certain feeling of 'maybe it was just a long holiday, and I'm gonna wake up and live in Switzerland again', because I did a lot of extended holidays to follow bands around the UK in the two years leading up to my move so... yeah, it was rough. And then when I returned home to London Ruth and her mum had bought me my own bedsheets (zebra striped), and made up the bed in my room, and put a big bow on it, and I'm basically in floods of tears just thinking about it now. They made me a home that I was welcome in. And I’ll never forget that.

How about one of the best you've given yourself? I honestly can't think of anything that was a "birthday" gift to myself. hmmm. When I quit smoking I put £5 into a jar every day, that I wasn't spending on cigarettes, and then Ruth and I went to New York and attended Elsie Fest with my 'No Longer a Smoker' money, buying VIP tickets that came with awesome seats and a tonne of free booze... that was EXCELLENT! haha

What's your favourite cake flavour? Not a big fan of cake. I like raw cake batter an awful lot better than actual cake. So I now always ask for chocolate mousse for my birthday :)

How about your favourite flowers? Wild Flowers. And I quite like interesting twigs, too.

Have your ever thrown a birthday party? If yes, tell us about your favourite one. Oh yeah, I throw awesome parties. Here's just a few recent ones, or you can check out the Mys in the Kitchen tag for what may get served at my birthday parties... haha Though actually a couple of years post pandemic I wanted to have a brithday party, but keep it small and covid friendly, so I had a Cocktail & Cookie Icing party, which was so much fun!! I highly recommend everyone to throw a party at least once in their life, that includes like a fun workshop element. We had such a good time!

What's the ultimate birthday song?

Because it’s my birthday and people have to let me play it haha

There we have it! Birthday fun! Now it's your turn @deedala @ian-galagher @iandarling @darlingian @celestialmickey @crossmydna @too-schoolforcool @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx x @iansw0rld @ohkate @palepinkgoat @lynne-monstr @loftec @sickness-health-all-that-shit @faejilly @junemermaid @jrooc @mikhailoisbaby @creepkinginc @francesrose3 @callivich @blue-disco-lights @sleepyfacetoughguy @stocious @spookygingerr @lingy910y @suzy-queued @greentealycheejelly @thepupperino

[daisynik7]

The Takada-Chan Mall Concert

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: explicit language, suggestive dialogue, switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Todo is in 3rd)

Summary: Your first ever Takada-Chan concert doesn't go as planned.

Author's Notes: Hello everybody, here's the first chapter! Just a few background details - Todo is 22, already graduated from Kyoto Jujutsu High, and is working as a full-fledged Jujutsu Sorcerer. Reader is also 22, graduated from university, taking the summer off before starting work in the fall. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Next Chapter

The day has finally arrived: Your very first Takada-Chan concert! You’ve been dreaming of this ever since you started following the pop idol a few years ago, during the start of university. Although some would consider you a relatively new fan, your love and dedication to the Tall Idol is unmatched, you’re sure of it. You know her favorite food (goatfish), her favorite drink (room temperature sake), her favorite color (black), her blood type (AB negative)…The list goes on and on. 

It’s the summer before you officially start your big girl job in the fall. College has kicked your ass the past 4 years, so you treat yourself with a well-deserved summer break. Now, you have the next three months to attend every possible Takada event near you, starting with this concert. She’s hosting a very exclusive performance at the mall in her hometown, which is conveniently only 15 minutes away from you. Tickets sold out online within minutes, but you managed to snag two for you and your best friend, Sara, who only agreed to go with you to keep you company. She understands that these types of events can be…well, as she puts it bluntly:

“A sausage-fest.”

She stares at you with her arms crossed as you pack your bag with binoculars and a mini sign with Takada’s face on it. “Ugh, binoculars? Really? The concert is in a mall, you’ll see her just fine!”

“You never know! I just want to be prepared.”

“I still don’t get why you’re so obsessed with this woman,” Sara says, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you’re in love with her or anything.”

You smile at your friend. “I know, but she’s just so cool. I love her confidence! And her music is so catchy, even you can’t deny that.”

She rolls her eyes again, chuckling. “Yeah okay, her music is pretty good. But I don’t think you’re fully prepared for how much of a sausage-fest this is gonna be.”

“I don’t care. No man is getting in my way today. Us girls are going to stick together. Women supporting women!”

‘Yeah yeah, I’m still bringing my brass knuckles though.”

~~~

The day has finally arrived: Todo’s first Takada-Chan concert of the summer. He’s been to 9 concerts already, including the 4 he’s imagined in his head. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s going to be the best one yet.

He bought an extra ticket for his bestie and brother, Yuji Itadori, who’s currently at the mall, saving a spot for him while he finishes getting ready. He inspects himself in the mirror, flexing his biceps smiling, very satisfied with his appearance. With one more quick armpit check, he heads out. At the mall, there’s already dozens of people surrounding the windows, trying to sneak a peek inside. “Ha, you dweebs didn’t get tickets in time,” Todo says smugly, waving his tickets in everyone’s face while he goes through the entrance.

The mall is packed with people waiting for the pop idol’s performance. He finds the area where the stage is and scans the crowd until he spots spiky pink hair near the front. “Brother!” he yells, making his way through the sea of people effortlessly, getting a few shouts of protest from some smaller randoms.

Yuji looks up from his phone, greeting him with a smile. “Hey Todo! Man, it’s packed! Didn’t think this many people liked Takada-Chan.”

“Brother, don’t say something so stupid like that again. Of course a lot of people like Takada-Chan.” He slaps Yuji’s back hard, causing the shorter boy to stumble forward slightly.

“Geez, okay, I get it! When is this thing supposed to start, anyways? I’m meeting Kugisaki to go shopping.”

Todo scrolls through his phone, checking Twitter. “Takada-Chan tweeted 20 minutes ago that she’s on her way. Look at her, so adorable.” He shows him his phone, playing a video of the idol doing her signature Taka-Tan Beam, gazing at it lovingly.

Yuji laughs. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go now before this thing gets too crazy. See ya!” He squeezes himself through the crowd as Todo continues to admire Takada’s video on repeat.

~~~

You walk back to the stage area, two corn dogs in hand, when your phone buzzes, displaying a text from Sara. We’ve got a problem.

Your heart sinks as you speed walk faster through the mall, simultaneously stress-eating the food in your grip. It’s only been 10 minutes since you offered to get food for you and Sara while waiting for the concert to begin. What kind of disastrous complication could have occurred in this miniscule amount of time?! 

You approach the concert area, the hoard bigger and louder compared to when you left. Sara is near the front of the stage, so you push your way in, stepping through until you hit a wall.

Wait, it’s not a wall.

It’s a person. A very tall and muscular man.

Ah, the problem.

He doesn’t even flinch when you run headfirst into his back, like he didn’t feel it. You rub your forehead, turn your head to face Sara on your left, smirking. “Looks like you literally ran into our problem.”

You’re furious. This guy is MASSIVE. He’s got a least a foot on you, height-wise. But he’s also ripped with muscles. You can’t see above him or around him. All you see is his back muscles. It doesn’t help that the entire audience is packed like sardines, so tight you can’t move to either side of him for a better view. "What happened?” you ask, panicked. “This guy wasn't here before.” You hand a corn dog to Sara, grimacing at the man before you.

"I guess the pink haired dude in front of us saved this guy's spot." She points the corn dog towards him, whispering, “Should I stick my brass knuckles in him? Maybe that will get him to move.”

Naturally, being afraid of confrontation and violence, you respond, "No, no. You’ll get in trouble for that. Let me just talk to him, I guess.”

Sara munches on her treat while you clear your throat, reaching up to poke his shoulder, with no response. You poke a little harder this time and still nothing.

“He’s like a fucking brick wall or something,” you mutter to Sara, who only giggles. With a closed fist, you pound on his back, as if knocking on a door, a very beefy, sturdy door. Finally, he cranes his neck to face you, eyebrows raised.

“Um, hello. Do you think you can move a little? You’re blocking our view.”

This guy doesn’t even have the audacity to turn his body around. He just peers over his shoulder, saying, “Nope,” facing forward again, completely disregarding you.

“So you’re just going to block our view the whole time?” you remark, annoyed. 

He scoffs, still not looking at you. “Not my problem.”

Who is this fucking jerk?!

From the corner of your eye, you notice Sara brandishing her brass knuckles, ready to pounce. You shield her with your arm, stopping her. “Don’t. Let’s just wait and see what happens when Takada-Chan comes out.” You feel like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Literally.

A few minutes pass and the crowd around you starts screaming in excitement. Takada-Chan must be walking on stage now, though you wouldn’t know because this guy’s back is taking up your entire view. The rest of the fans are so squished together that you’re practically nose-to-back with this guy. Luckily, he has no body odor; he actually smells quite nice.

“Can you see anything?” you ask Sara.

“Yeah, she’s on stage now. She’s just waving to the crowd as her mic gets set up.”

“What is she wearing?”

“A red and white baseball tee with flared jeans that has jewels on the side,” Sara answers.

You pout. “Ugh, she’s so cool! If only I could see her!”

“Let’s switch spots, c’mon.” Sara tries to move behind you as you shift to your left. Music plays and Takada-Chan starts singing her current smash hit “Love Gem”, which you are absolutely obsessed with. Now in a position to actually see your favorite idol, you retrieve the Takada sign out of your bag, ready to enjoy the concert. Before you can, the jerk in front of you begins swaying side-to-side in time with the music, singing loudly, and badly. Every time he swings to the left, your view gets obscured again. You shoot a look to Sara, who just laughs at your misfortune. 

You try your best to appreciate the rest of the performance, getting glimpses of the pop idol whenever the swaying moron moves out the way. When it’s over, Takada-Chan delivers her signature Taka-Tan Beam, resulting in shrieks of glee from the audience. The boulder in front of you yells, “I love you, Takada-Chan! It’s me, Aoi Todo! Your future husband!” He waves his arms back and forth, vying for her attention.

As you wait for the crowd to disperse, you shout to Sara, “As if Takada-Chan will ever marry an idiot like that.”

All of a sudden, he turns around to face you. He’s more massive and menacing from the front. The most noticeable feature about him is the huge scar running down the left side of his face. A tiny corner of your brain wonders what the story behind that is. “What did you call me?” he growls.

Shit. You didn’t think he could hear you. He’s a jerk anyways, so no need to be nice. “I called you an idiot, idiot,” you sneer, with the smuggest grin.

He glares at you. “I’ll have you know that I have an IQ of 530,000. You normies could never compare.” His voice is dripping with arrogance and cockiness, it makes your blood boil.

“Normies? You some kind of god or something?”

“Heh, you could call me god-like, I suppose,” he winks at you, smirking.

You roll your eyes, hard. “Charming. Well, I hope you had fun getting ignored by your 'future wife'. Thanks to you, I didn’t even get to see her since your ginormous body was blocking me the entire time!” You’re seething now. Sara stands beside you, wide eyed but enjoying the show. If there was popcorn, she would be stuffing her face with it right now.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t save yourself a better spot. Maybe next time, plan better. If you are a true Takada fan, you would do whatever it takes. That’s why I’m the superior Takada-Chan fan.” Both his thumbs point towards himself, puffing out his chest.

“Please, you think you’re the superior fan? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’ve known her since middle school, so yeah, I think that makes me the biggest fan!”

“I doubt that, you’re probably making this up!”

“I’m not! She rejected me in middle school, but I know she’ll come around in a few years once she retires! Then we’ll finally be together!”

This guy is truly delusional. “You think Takada-Chan will ever marry someone like you? Get real!”

You're both going at it like a tennis match, Sara's eyes darting back and forth between the two contenders.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Takada-Chan too? I will crush you if you get in my way!” he yells.

“I’m not in love with her, I admire her! I aspire to be her!”

“Ha, don’t make me laugh. You’ll never be like Takada-Chan, shorty.”

“I’m not talking about her looks; I’m talking about her personality!”

“Well, it doesn’t look like you have much going on there either!”

“Asshole!”

“Loser!”

“Okay you two, stop!” Sara intervenes, physically placing herself in between you and the ogre. “As much fun as it is to see you both go ballistic at each other, people are starting to stare. Now break it up.”

Your face is so hot, you feel steam coming out of your ears. What a fucking asshole.

He looks at Sara and tells her, “You better control your girl. She shouldn’t be messing with someone like me.”

“Oh, is that a threat? Come at me, I will fuck you up!” You’re ready to throw hands at this fucking prick until Sara restrains you, letting him walk away, chuckling.

“You have seriously got to calm down. Don’t let a dick like him get to you,” Sara says, still holding you back.

All you do is grunt at her. Who does this moron think he is to talk to people like that? As you make your way towards the exit of the mall, you hope with all your Takada filled heart that you never have to run into that guy ever again.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 5 - On the Road Again

Summary: Gareth enrolls in the Eddie Munson Driving School.

Word Count: 993–CUTTING IT CLOSE GOD DAMN

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Angst, some swearing, coming of age friendship fluffiness.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Gareth Emerson was shitting bricks.

Or, rather, he would if he wasn’t so constipated from stress.

“Ew,” Dave pushed his lunch tray away. “Do you have to say that while we’re eating?

“Yes, Dave, I do,” Gareth snarked right back, arms curling around his midsection. “God. My stomach hurts.”

It was Gareth's first day of Driver's Ed and, unfortunately, he had done horrendously.

And it wasn't just bad, it was almost-crashed-the-driving-instructors-car bad. If anything could go wrong, it did, and nothing would make Gareth feel better than to go home and forget it all happened.

Better yet, if he could drop dead...

“Hey,” Eddie clapped a hand on the drummer’s shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be fine. The DMV let you have a permit, which means you're smart enough to drive...you just need practice."

"I hit the gas instead of the brake," Gareth deadpanned.

"An easy mistake," Eddie offered.

"I didn't check my blind spots, and almost hit Higgins while I was backing up."

"He deserves it."

"And then I pulled the steering wheel clean off."

Jeff and Dave both clapped hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter as Eddie used every piece of willpower on earth not to react in an extreme way.

"That..." He took a deep breath, searching for the kindest way to continue. "Yeah, damn...I don't know how the fuck you did that."

Gareth threw his hands into the air and was about to leave, over his friends judgment and just ready for the day to end, when Eddie pushed him back into his seat.

"Hey, I get it," he began. "Driving's a big deal. And it's hard when you get behind the wheel for the first time. But, hey, you weren't born knowing how to play the drums; you had to practice to get good. Same thing for driving."

"But what if I'm never good enough?"

"Impossible."

"Coach Simmons is never gonna let me drive again," Gareth moaned.

"Then we just find another car," Eddie shrugged. "Your mom's station wagon or...what if I let you drive the van? Show you a few things? I'm a great driver!"

Gareth didn't exactly have any other choices though, especially once he started getting the stress sweats on the days he had Driver's Ed.

So every Tuesday for an hour before their gig at the Hideout, he was officially enrolled in the Munson Driving Academy.

"Driver's Ed with Ed," he joked, earning groans from the others. "What, come on, it's funny."

Eddie had even made a sign to tape to the side and back of the van.

"So no one honks at us," he revealed with a flourish. "And if they do? Lesson Number One? You honk right back. The horn is your friend."

"Got it," Gareth nodded, and then climbed into the driver's seat.

"Or you just flip them off. You're already a pro at that Gare," Jeff snickered from the back of the van, where he and Dave were sitting, cramped, amongst their equipment.

Truly, Gareth was grateful for the lessons and the time and effort that Eddie put into them. Shit, he was even grateful for Jeff and Dave not saying a damn thing in the back while he was driving, even though they'd worn their bicycle helmets during that first lesson.

The thing was...

Eddie wasn't that great of a teacher.

At least when it came to driving.

There were certain things that he was a pro at.

He got Gareth to feel comfortable backing in to parking spots and making three-point turns. He'd even shared all of his tips about avoiding the cops and getting out of a ticket, knowing Mrs. Emerson would drop dead if Gareth ever got pulled over.

But despite half of Eddie's "tricks" being useful, for the other half of the time spend with Gareth, he had his nose in the exam booklet learning some of the things himself.

"Alright, we're coming up to this hill," he flipped through the pages. "Let's try parking."

"Where's your emergency brake?" Gareth asked as he pulled to the side.

"Uhhhh, it's next to that other switch right there, why do you need it?"

"I need to the emergency brake to park uphill Eddie!"

"Oh yeah," he flipped through the booklet again. "Good job!"

Gareth swore that he could hear prayers being muttered behind him during those lessons. And damn if he didn't say a prayer or two himself.

Needless to say, when the day of Gareth's driving exam finally arrived, all of the boys showed up to the Roane County DMV along with Gareth and his parents.

It was a momentous occasion, and Jeff and Eddie made a whole show of fussing over him.

"Our little buddy's all grown up," Jeff sniffed.

"Hey isn't that supposed to be my line?" Mr. Emerson joked.

Dave had even gotten a little package of cupcakes for them to celebrate once Gareth was out.

An hour passed, then two. All of the boys got restless as they waited in the van for the Emersons all to emerge.

But when they did, all of their hearts sank.

Gareth had his head in his hands, his mom's arm around his shoulders, as his dad simply shook his head in disappointment.

"Ah shit," Eddie cursed as Gareth shook his parents away to break the news to his friends. "How bad was it?"

"Did you miss a stop sign?" Jeff asked.

"Did you tank whole written test?" Dave questioned.

"It was one of the worst experiences of my life," Gareth moaned, eyes wrenched shut in pain.

And then, like the little shit he was, he pulled a laminated card out of his back pocket and proudly held it out to show his friends.

"It's a good thing I never have to do it again!" The other boys hollered and whooped and jumped around in celebration. "You guys wanna go to the arcade to celebrate? I'm driving."

[victoriansecret]

IMPORTANT NEWS FYRE FEST 2 WAS JUST ANNOUNCED "Billy McFarland‘s stint in prison for fraud gave him the time to churn out a 50-page business plan to revive Fyre Festival — and now you can buy tickets.

In a YouTube video posted Sunday, the convicted con artist officially announced Fyre Festival II, set to take place in the Caribbean sometime at the end of 2024. The specific dates, location, and festival lineup have not been revealed, but tickets are currently on sale starting at $499 and going up to $7,999, per the festival website.

“This is a big day,” McFarland says in the video, sporting Airpods and a plush white robe. “It has been the absolute wildest journey to get here, and it really all started during a seventh-month stint in solitary confinement. I wrote out this 50-page plan of how it would take this overall interest and demand in Fyre and how it would take my ability bring people from around the world together to make the impossible happen.” https://www.lawyersgunsmoneyblog.com/2023/08/fraud-as-the-lubricant-of-american-life I'm convinced that while in prison he heard about the legal concept of "double jeopardy" and thought it meant he can't be charged if he commits the same crime again. Now we just need DashCon 2 to be announced.

[standfucker]

"The Fall of Ideals"

Character: Maren (young adult version)

Reader: AFAB

Word Count: 11.3k

CW: recreational drug use, explicit N.SFW content, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size difference/size kink

Summary: Going to the Riptide Rock Festival instead of studying for your exam was one bad decision. A chance encounter with a stranger leads you to making several more.

Ao3 Link

[Happy Birthday @mewiyev! I swear I'm normal about Maren (hides word count) >.> In all seriousness, I truly adore this amazing character that you've created and I hope that shines through in this gift! Thank you for sharing him with the world!]

“This next song has never been heard before!” The lead singer of Violincense announces into the mic, prompting screams of excitement from the crowd. “We’re debuting it here at Riptide, the single for our next album–we present to you, Smokescream!”

The sound drifts from afar as you hurry back toward the crowd, having left to throw away your empty cup between songs. A rookie mistake, you soon realized, as the crowd closed up behind you, and now you were having trouble penetrating the throng of bodies. Had you any experience with these things, you would have just held onto the damn cup. Now you’re going to miss getting a good view of the band for what is possibly history in the making. You know Violincense was on the cusp of making it big, and here was your chance to watch it happen, front and center.

The crowd had formed itself into groups roughly based on size, with the tallest people closer to the back and sides. Some people of average height opted to stay close to their big friends, often sitting on their shoulders. One especially big man even wore some kind of shoulder-mounted table, carrying six of his friends. You can't help but feel a little jealous as you squeeze past them. You’re here alone, after all.

“S’cuse me…” you mumble, feeling out of place. Everyone else was dressed in band shirts and worn jackets, spiked bracelets and collars and chokers. In comparison, you look plain, but even if the trip to this venue hadn’t been last minute, you would’ve had nothing to wear anyway. It wasn’t your wisest choice to abandon studying for your big upcoming exam and blow all your food money on tickets, travel, and board for a rock festival. But now that you're here, that all seems like minor worries, a drop in the bucket of life. Who knows when you would get to do something like this again?

The Riptide Rock Fest was one of the biggest rock festivals on the Grand Line. Sporting multiple stages across the grounds and a myriad of different tents, it was a three-day haven to all fans of rock music genres. Each day had one big headliner show in the evening, with lesser-known bands filling the side stages throughout the day. It was currently the second day of the festival, and Violincense was one of the small bands you had been especially excited for, so you were eager to get back to a good spot before they started.

Alas, you were still stuck behind a wall of taller folk, unable to see the stage. The sound of drumsticks striking each other sounded as the band counted off, before a heavy guitar riff started the song. You paused to take it in, then shook your head and kept anxiously making your way along the perimeter of bodies, unable to find your way in and too polite to push through.

Finally, you spot an opening: closer to the middle and slightly off to the side, there's a little bit of space. The only person there is one of the big people, some guy that has to be at least fifteen feet tall. For some reason, he's being given a wide berth by those around him, but you don’t give it any thought as you dart for that spot before it gets taken. 

As you get closer, you see the potential reason people are leaving him be: rows of large, menacing spines stick out of his back through his clothes. However, those spines are far too high up to be a danger to you, so you step into place next to him and are at last able to get a decent view of the stage. Up close, the man is even more massive–not just tall, but thick-bodied and muscular, his burly arms alone bigger than you are. You decide to just avoid eye contact and return your focus to the show.

Smokescream, like all of Violincense’s music, sucks you right in from the start. Hearing the band live is a completely different experience. Sure, a studio recording could let a band trim off the imperfections in the sound, but it isn’t the same. This was how music was meant to be heard, you think. The fast-paced, harmonic chords strike you personally, heavy drums feeling like they’re replacing your heartbeat. Swept up in the music,  you’re so invested you don’t notice that the huge man is staring at you until halfway through the song, when you glance and accidentally meet his eye.

You stare back for a moment, stunned. He’s astonishingly handsome, if not a bit intimidating; a broad jaw and strong nose that balanced his features well, long, reddish brown hair that matches the color of his spines, a simple goatee, and gauged ears. He's wearing a black leather vest covered in various patches, but no shirt, showing off his husky build, a pair of faded green cargo shorts, and platform boots adorned in belts. His light skin sports a fair share of bruises and he's a bit scuffed up, likely from a mosh pit. Unlike you, he looks entirely in his element. 

The man watched you with a sour, unimpressed look, eyes slightly narrowed. Suddenly self-conscious, you look away, distracting yourself by pulling out one of the spliffs you had rolled earlier from your pocket and lighting it. After a few hits, you’re able to relax a little more, turning your focus back to the stage. You don’t think about the man until the next song comes to a close, the crowd cheering on the tail end of the final notes, when he leans over slightly in your direction.

“Do you need something?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

It wasn’t just his spines that kept others away. You’re abruptly aware of the prickly energy he’s giving off, his tone as guarded as his body language. Still, you have no idea what he’s talking about, so you just give him a look of confusion in response.

“What are you doing here?” he presses.

You look over at the band, then back up at him. “...Is that a trick question?”

“I mean here, in this spot.” He points at the ground. “Do you normally make a habit of approaching strange men?”

“You talked to me first,” you point out, pulling the cig from your mouth.

“Everyone else got the damn hint,” he says gruffly.

“I’m too short to care about the spines,” you say, wondering what his problem is. “And anyway, I wasn’t aware you owned this section.”

He leans forward a bit more, towering over your space. “It ain’t the spines you gotta worry about, small fry.”

“What are you gonna do? Bite me?”

“That’s right.” He smiles, showing off pointed teeth. It's not a friendly smile, but it looks good on him anyway, though it makes you uncertain–he really is enormous, easily a threat to someone your size.

Maybe it’s because you’re in a new place, already out of your comfort zone. Maybe it’s the few beers already in you at that point. But instead of giving him space like a sane person would, you instead respond, “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

That makes him smile even wider, leaning forward just a bit more. “I’m part Fish-man, you know. My teeth are razor sharp.”

“Even better.”

He laughs, his face lighting up in his amusement. You feel your face get warm and quickly stick the cig back in your mouth before you say something else embarrassing. He has a nice laugh.

The band announces that they are playing their last song of the set. Neither you nor your neighbor speak for the entirety of it. Either he likes the music too much to bother you, or he decided you were alright after all; regardless, he leaves you alone until the song is over. After the cheering of the crowd dies down, he turns back to you.

“I gotta say, I didn’t expect that coming from you.”

You rub the back of your neck, distinctly aware how plain you look. “I know I’m not dressed for a concert. I don’t really own any band shirts.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“Not allowed?” He suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Are you a teenager?”

“Nope. Just a college student with a ruthlessly strict mother.”

“She sounds like a bitch.”

“Don’t call my mom a bitch,” you snap, all playfulness gone.

He isn’t thwarted even slightly, lip curling into a sneer. Reaching out with one giant hand, he pokes you in the chest, easily making you stumble back and imposing the difference in your strength. “What are you gonna do about it, small fry?”

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you could have sworn he had gotten bigger. You falter for a second, shocked that he would get physical and a bit intimidated. Then you get mad. If he’s going to be a cunt, you would be a cunt right back.

You stub out your spliff on his finger, hearing it sizzle. The man jerks his hand back with a yelp. “Ow! Fuck!”

“I'm not gonna let you push me around,” you bluff, pretending to be braver than you are. Jerks usually prefer easy targets, but there's still a chance he might get aggressive. You bare your teeth and pray he's all talk. “We're surrounded by people. Try me.”

“Are you stupid?” he growls, cradling his burned hand. “You could get seriously hurt, messing with guys like me. Sheesh…and you still haven’t taken the hint.” He grumbles, sticking his finger into his mouth, but he does not do anything else, and you deflate a little in relief.

Violincense announces that they're playing an encore, and the crowd roars as they launch into a familiar track–one of their most popular songs, Nightingales.

Attempting to ignore your surly neighbor, you close your eyes to really take in your favorite part of the song. Then you stare at the stage intensely, trying to burn the image of the band playing it into your memory. As it comes to a close, you glance at the huge man again. He’s closed his eyes, too, a serene look on his face as he listens. Right then, you feel bad for him–he just wants to enjoy the music in peace, like you. Maybe you overreacted.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him once the music stops.

“Whatever,” he spits, then mumbles, “you must be lonely, talking to me.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shrug. “But I’d bet you are, too. I mean, have you heard these lyrics?”

He looks surprised that you’d admit it so casually. Then he huffs, looking away. “I know em’ by heart.”

The crowd starts to move around you as the band packs up their things. You stick your hands in your pockets, feeling awkward. “Hey, uh, look… I’m sorry I did that. Really. I’ll make it up to you,” you said. “Want a pretzel or something? I’ll buy.”

The man visibly perks up, giving you another look of surprise. He’s kind of cute like this…

“They’re stale and oversalted,” you say enticingly, offering a hesitant smile. “But the cheese dip is…well, it also sucks, but at least it’s hot.”

“Fuck yeah,” the man grins from ear to ear. “I won’t say no to free food.”

You both head to the food tents, introducing yourselves on the way. You learned his name was Maren–“just Maren,” as he said after you gave him your last name. A lot of the patches on his vest were of bands you liked, so you were able to find some common ground despite the rough start.

You ended up buying Maren three soft pretzel sticks, just because he was so much larger–it only seemed fair. His attitude did a complete 360 at that, thrilled at the gesture.

“Thanks,” he says, and you nod, pulling out a program flier to see where the next band you wanted to watch would play. Maren peers over your shoulder as he shoves a cheese-slathered pretzel stick into his mouth. “Where ya headed next?”

“South stage,” you replied. “Shitty Kitties is playing soon.”

“Hm,” his voice is slightly garbled by his full mouth, which he does not hesitate to speak through, “Shitty Kitties? Kinda gimmicky, don’t ya think?”

“They're cool! The lead singer is a puma zoan. He transforms his vocal chords to do these crazy growls.”

“Exactly. A gimmick, not real skill.”

“Who cares how he does it, so long as it sounds good?”

“He leans on it too much. He can’t sing for shit, small fry.”

“Small fry,” you echoe, “is that a Fish-man thing?”

“Because of your shirt,” Maren points. You’re wearing a graphic tee that has cartoon french fries and tater tots, engaged in a shootout and bleeding ketchup.

“This my favorite shirt,” you say defensively.

“You have dorky taste.”

“Why do you think I’m talking to you?”

Maren grins. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I haven’t decided if I’m going to eat you yet.” Despite his words, he’s less intimidating with a bit of cheese sauce smeared on his mouth.

“There you go again, threatening me with a good time,” you joke.

He smiles back, and your stomach does a weird little flip. For being kind of a jerk, he really is good-looking. Still, it’s probably in your best interests to wish him well and part ways here.

“Wanna go to the south stage together?” Maren asks.

“Yes,” you immediately reply.

You only made it to the Riptide Rock Fest by doing what you weren’t supposed to–what was one more bad decision?

Maren stuffs the rest of the food into his face, finishing it in two huge bites, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. You stare as he licks the sauce off his hand, following the trailing of his tongue. He meets your eyes as he does, grinning to himself when you break eye contact to look away and clear your throat.

“What is it, sweetheart? See something you like?” he teases.

“No–I wasn’t–you’re just messy,” you stammer, failing to save face. Trying to distract him, you point up at his vest. “Hey, isn’t that a Shitty Kitties patch? What gives?”

Maren looks a bit embarrassed. “That was from years ago. I’ve had this jacket for a long time–hey, don’t change the subject, now.”

Caught red-handed and losing your buzz, you start to walk away, feeling your usual shyness resurfacing now that the intoxication is wearing off. Maren follows you, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and chatting as you walk. He has no trouble making conversation, and picks up the slack where you falter. You find it easy to talk to him, and the more you talk, the more you want to know more about him. However, he dodges questions relating to himself, either outright ignoring them or just deflecting with more questions. By the time you make it to the south stage, you feel like you're talking about yourself too much, but he seems to prefer it that way.

“So where are your friends at?” Maren asks, as if it would be unthinkable for you to have come by yourself.

“Where are yours?” you try.

“Came alone.” It was the only direct answer from him in the last twenty minutes.

“Me too.”

“What, your friends don’t like rock?”

You shift from foot to foot, unsure how to respond in a way that doesn’t make you sound like a complete loser. “I don’t, uh… I don’t have any friends,” you admit. “Not where I live, anyway. After I graduated high school, mom moved us halfway around the world. Relocated to the best college she could find. I haven’t made any new friends since. Most students at that university are the entitled, wealthy type.”

“And you’re not?” Maren teases lightly.

You wrinkle your nose. “I got a full ride through scholarships.”

“Sure, sure,” he grins when you make a face at him, enjoying riling you up, “so you’re the nerdy type of smart! I knew it.” 

You doubt he really knew it, and are starting to wonder if he’s flirting with you. He seems to like your company, anyway. Oh, shit, is he flirting with you? 

Suddenly uncertain, you went for the only distraction you could think of, digging into your pocket for another pre-rolled spliff. “If I was actually smart,” you say, “I wouldn’t be here. I should be studying for this huge exam, but…” you trail off.

“But…?” Maren prompts.

“I felt like if I looked at one more book, I’d completely lose it.” You pat your pocket to search for your lighter. “All I ever do is study. I’m sick of it! I had to do something else or I’d snap. And I’ve always wanted to go to a concert–ugh, where the fuck is my lighter?”

Maren pulls a lighter from one of the many pockets on his shorts. “Here,” he says, crouching down low in front of you. You reach to accept the lighter from him, but he gently bats your hand away and instead holds the lighter up to your mouth. His hands are so large compared to the tiny spliff that he has to lean in close and focus, his tongue sticking out slightly. Carefully, he lights the spliff, his face filling your vision, and you find yourself staring again. The warmth from the lighter’s flame almost doesn’t register over your own heated cheeks.

“There we go,” he says, eyes darting up from the lighter to meet your own gaze. You glance away, the eye contact a bit much for you sober, and when you look back, he’s still leaning close, now smiling big. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly. “You, uh, want a drag?”

“Depends. What’s in it?”

“Just weed and tobacco.”

“Hell yeah, hand it over.” 

You hand him the spliff, and he takes a deep drag, nodding to himself in approval. “This is good shit. You’re not as straight-laced as you seem, huh? Guess momma doesn’t know about this.”

“I have special hiding places for it,” you say. “No matter how much she digs through my shit, she won’t find it.”

“Sounds like you need to live on campus.” Maren passes the spliff back.

“I do,” you say bluntly, taking a drag and exhaling in a sigh. “She searches my things when she visits.”

“Yeesh. Why do you defend her?”

It’s not as simple as Maren makes it sound, and you aren’t sure how to put that into words. Luckily, before you can think of an answer, a familiar, high-pitched snarl echoes over the speakers. You look to the stage as the crowd cheers, but the view is completely obscured by other concert goers closer to Maren’s size. If you want to actually see Shitty Kitties, you’ll have to part ways and head up further to the “smalls” section of the crowd.

“Aw, hell. I guess I gotta go,” you say reluctantly.

“Wait!” Maren shouts to be heard over the lead singer’s introduction. “You can sit on my shoulder!”

“You’re full of spikes!” you shout back.

Maren pauses, thinking for a second. “No big deal! Here, sit on my arm!” He flexes one burly arm, patting it. “No spines and a perfect view of the stage! Deluxe seating, compliments of Maren. Whaddaya say?”

You blink, flattered at the offer but not wanting to impose. “But…won’t you get tired?”

“Nope!” Maren flexes his arm further, showing off his impressive muscles and grinning proudly.

He doesn't want you to leave, you realize. The thought gives you butterflies in your stomach that the spliff doesn't help to calm. Maren is roguishly attractive and good company, and he wants you around–why not accept?

“Alright,” you nod. “How do I get up theRE–!”

The moment you consent, Maren picks you up, wrapping his hands around your hips and hoisting you onto his upper arm as your words turn into a cry of surprise. Suddenly fourteen feet off the ground, you grip the fabric of his vest tightly, tucking your legs under his arm to hold on.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” Maren says cheerfully, patting your shoulder with his upheld hand.

You giggle nervously. From up here, you can see above the heads of the taller people and have an excellent view of the stage. Just in time, too, as the lead singer of Shitty Kitties finishes hyping up the crowd and begins counting down to their first song of the set.

“One, two, three!” The lead singer yells, then snarls into the mic.

“Oh! Oh!!” you exclaim. “This is Blightmare!”

Maren grins at your excitement. He nods along to the music, careful not to move you too much, and you pass the spliff back and forth as you enjoy the song. Blightmare was an old cult classic, one of your favorites. Once it hits the main verse, you're far too enthralled to not scream out the lyrics–hell, everyone else is.

“ROWR! I’m the wrong kinda crowd / I’m the devil in the day / and I’m no good for you / but you like it that way!”

You glance at Maren to see that he’s singing along, too. You can’t hear him, much less yourself, but you both grin at each other as you sing. The high of the spliff compounds the intoxicating feeling of the music, until you wrap one arm around Maren’s upheld one so you can steady yourself while headbanging.

“Fuck yeah!” Maren shouts, throwing devil horns up with his free hand. The both of you get swallowed up by the energy of your surroundings, screaming along song lyrics and pumping your fists for every song that plays. The set concludes what feels like far too early, and people begin to move around the two of you as they make their way to other stages.

“That was amazing!” you laugh, exhilarated. 

“It was pretty cute, hearing you try to growl like the lead singer,” Maren says.

Your chest tightens in a good way, and you giggle nervously, shaking your head. “My vocal chords will regret that tomorrow. But fuck it, right?”

“That’s right!”

“I didn’t know this would be so much fun! I’m so glad I came!”

“Is this your first time?” Maren asks, crouching down so he can let you off him.

“Yep. First concert ever.” You land and get your bearings, patting down your jeans. “There are lots of things I’ve missed out on because all my time was spent studying. Morning drills before class, prep school after, then homework in the evening.”

“Why don’t you just quit?” Maren asks like it’s obvious, and you balk at him.

“What? I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. It sucks, you clearly don’t like it. So quit.”

“You don’t understand,” you explain. “Mom gave up everything to get me here. We were dirt poor. She would even skip meals to make sure I was fed. She worked hard to give me this opportunity! I can’t just throw that away.”

Maren doesn't look convinced, but he doesn’t argue, either, merely shrugging. “Well, alright. Where ya wanna go next?”

You look down to hide your smile, thrilled that he wants to keep hanging out with you. Pulling out the flier, you squint at it. “A band called ‘M-K’ is going to play on this stage. What’s ‘M-K?’”

“Monochrome Kaleidoscope.”

“Oh. Well, they’re up next. And on the east stage, there’s Taka Tora Batta… and BB Thunder on the north. They should all finish around the same time, right before the headliner plays on the center stage.”

The headliner for the second day was Preyer, a band with a self-described “carnivore gothic” theme that was rapidly growing in popularity. Maren hadn’t brought them up at all yet, which was surprising–they seemed to be right up his alley, considering his taste in other bands.

“I don’t have a preference either way–I’m good with whatever,” he says.

“Me too. Why don’t we stay here, then?” you suggest. “We can move up closer and get a better spot in the crowd. If we go stand right at the border between the large and small section, you won’t have to hold me up the whole time.”

“I don’t mind,” Maren winks, making you flush warm, “but alright. Sounds like a plan.”

You feel far more at ease walking through the crowds with Maren at your side. Concerts are supposed to be a group event in the first place, and with such an open venue, you had some concerns about being by yourself. But even other big people would think twice before starting a fight with Maren, which was all the more reason you should have never gambled on ticking him off earlier. A stupid risk, but in a weird way, the action seemed to gain his respect–and now that you had each other to hang out with, you’d never been happier in making such a string of poor decisions.

You and Maren find the good spot you had mentioned earlier, the people behind you all larger like him, and the people in front of you average-sized. Maren opts to sit down, as he’s still tall enough from there to see over the “shorties,” as he calls them. You, on the other hand, can't sit without losing sight of the stage, so you lean against him instead, mindful of the spikes.

Monochrome Kaleidoscope was a band that seems to be a mix of electronic and jam rock subgenres. They switch off between playing songs from their newest album, Shatterstatic, and having jam sessions right there on stage, improvising for five minute segments. The drums and synth players decide on a beat and background, and the rest of the musicians jump in with their instruments one at a time. You've never seen anything like it before, and let Maren know as much in between songs.

“Oh, yeah, M-K’s great.” He gives you a lazy grin. “I need to see if their merch table is selling patches later. Don’t have theirs yet.”

“If you hold our spot, I’ll go look for you,” you offer.

“Alright! Thanks, sweetheart.”

You flush warm and quickly excuse yourself before your flustering becomes obvious. As you weave through the “smalls” section, you couldn’t stop smiling to yourself. Maren is the last person you’d ever expect yourself to crush on. A small voice in the back of your mind tells you not to get too smitten, to keep your wits about you. You have only known Maren for a few hours, and he didn’t want to talk about himself. Maybe there was a reason for that, and that reason could have been a dangerous one. But he liked your company. And you craved the attention, truth be told. You never realized how starved you’d been for it.

The merch table was an assortment of stickers, buttons, patches, guitar picks, vinyls, and even some pricey tone dials. All of them had black-and-white designs around the band’s logo. Your hand hovered above the patches. For a moment, you considered getting two. But you didn’t have anything to put it on, and if your mother found it, she would likely throw a fit. The thought brought you out of your high somewhat  After tomorrow, you’d go back to your regular life. Back to the mundane rigors of academia and arithmetic.

There was no doubt this was the only time you’d get to hang with Maren. He’d eventually go back to whatever island he was from–hell, he might have even been a pirate (a scary thought,) in which case there was a slim chance you would ever see him again. You clenched your fists as you decided, right then and there: this weekend was your only chance to try something new. So what if he was literally rough around the edges? So what if you’d regret it later? You were far more afraid of the regret you’d feel if you didn’t take advantage of this opportunity.

Maren might only be your friend for a day, but that was one day more than you had in years. With that in mind, you went ahead and purchased a patch for him, and a guitar pick for yourself. You didn’t know how to play guitar, but the pick would be an easy-to-hide memento. 

When you returned, two songs had passed, and Maren was standing, looking far more scuffed up than when you’d left him, his hair all messy and a new rip in his pants.

“Woah, are you okay?” you ask, reaching up to touch his forearm, where a fresh bruise is forming.

“Yep. A mosh pit formed behind me, so I joined in,” he replies, letting you examine his arm. “So did they sell patches over there?”

“Yeah! Here,” you take the patch out of your bag and hold it out to him.

Maren’s eyes go wide. “You–you didn’t have to buy me one.”

You shrug. “I, uh…I wanted to. No big deal.”

He looks genuinely taken aback, a faint dusting of pink contrasting with his freckles. Then he smiles big. “Aw, thanks, babe. That’s real sweet of you.”

You’re already flustered from the pet name, so when he reaches up to brush your cheek affectionately, your brain nearly short-circuits. Face burning, you deftly avoid his gaze, staring at his arm and changing the subject.

“That looks painful,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise.

“Nah, it’s nothing. It was fun. You should try it!”

“Moshing?” you blink at him, incredulous. “No way. I mean, me?”

“Why not? You can start one up in the ‘smalls’ section. I know you shrimps need to get out your terrier energy.”

“Wha–hey!” you laugh, making Maren grin.

“I’m serious. You said this is your first concert, right? Trying new things is good for you.”

You’re not sure what part of knocking into other people is good for you, but for some reason, you feel yourself drawn to the idea. You shouldn’t be, but what if this was the only concert you’d ever get to attend? And what is it about Maren that makes him so convincing? He’s not even pressuring you, not really. You just want to look cool in front of him, despite the fact he probably thinks you're a total dork. You want him to like you so bad, but clearly he already does, so why are you considering this?

Maren sees you looking out over the crowd hesitantly, and raises a thick finger to point. “See those people down by the southwest row? The ones jumping up and down? They look primed for it. All you have to do is scurry over there and give them a little push.”

You bite your lip. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he nods. “Don’t shove people who look like they don’t want to be involved, and don’t use brute force on anyone smaller than you. Help up anyone you see on the ground. Other than that, go nuts.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay…”

Maren salutes you as you head forth. You walk a little quicker, gradually picking up your pace. When you reach the aforementioned group, you're at a brisk jog, and, feeling a bit nuts, you shove into the most energetic looking guy there. 

He stumbles slightly, looking surprised. You freeze.

Suddenly you're shoved from the side by a random girl. She shouts something at the group as you recover, and then the man you shoved comes back and pushes into her. There's more yelling from the group, and then four of them start throwing themselves into the crowd around them. Pulse racing, you collect yourself and join in, running at the nearest person.

The lead singer shouts and points at your section of the crowd. The guitarist jumps in, shredding an improvised solo like a crazy man. Suddenly the area around you seems to erupt, your small group becoming a massive, frenzied pit of at least 30 people. You get jabbed with elbows and shoved into bodies, never knowing where the next impact is going to come from, but your adrenaline is pumping like crazy and you don't want to stop. 

A particularly hard shove sends you off your feet. You hit the ground and tense, expecting to get trampled, but multiple hands come out of nowhere, lifting you back onto your feet. You pause, get bumped into, and resume throwing yourself into the swarm. 

You get knocked down several more times, but every time, hands reach out from the crowd like magic and pull you back up. It's only after you're out of breath and hurting that you decide to call it quits, making your way to the edge of the mosh pit, through the crowd, and back to Maren.

“Ahh!” you inform him, overcome with adrenaline. It feels like you just got off a roller coaster. “I–I did it!”

“You were like a little tornado,” Maren chuckles. “How was it?”

“Fun!” you shout. Your body hurts in various places, and you're banged up and bruised, but grinning like a maniac.

“Attagirl!” He holds out his fist to you, and you punch it.

It takes you a bit to catch your breath. You lean against Maren in the meantime, trying not to smile when he loops his arm around your hips.

“It looks like they have so much fun playing,” you say after MK finishes their last song. “I’ve always wanted to learn to play the guitar.”

“Why don’t you–wait, let me guess: you’re not allowed?” Maren raises both brows pityingly, and you lightly punch his arm.

“I just haven’t had the free time.”

“I could teach you, if I had a guitar,” he says, then pretends like he’s thinking hard, rubbing his goatee. “Tell you what. You sneak backstage and steal a guitar, and I’ll teach you to play a song.”

For a moment, you find yourself seriously considering it. Then you laugh at yourself. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A straight-laced person like me, committing theft.”

Maren laughs too. “I think breaking the rules would do you some good.”

“That’s not the kind of person I am.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not, and I’m okay with that.”

“Boooring.” Maren sticks out his tongue.

“That’s okay, too.”

He regards you for a moment. “You seem to have it all figured out.”

“I have to,” you say simply. “I mean, my own mother doesn’t know me. If I don’t know who I am, then no one does.”

“…”

“Anyway, if I get caught and jailed. I’d be kicked out of college, and then I’d lose everything. So no theft for me.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Maren says suddenly.

“Wha–of course. Everything my mom did…”

“Okay, but it doesn’t make sense to me.” Maren looks at you seriously. “What’s the point of all that sacrifice if you aren’t happy?”

You open your mouth, but can’t find a response. The words sink in slowly, slowly, and you try and wrap your mind around them. He…He's right. This punk you've known all of several hours is completely and totally right, and you have no idea what to say.

“Uh,” you say. “Um. Wow. Okay. I mean, yeah. Yeah, you have a point there.”

“Don’t sweat it too much, sweetheart.”

Easier said than done–you’re mulling over what he said for the rest of the set, only breaking out of the trance when it finishes and the crowd starts to move. You and Maren get up and follow the flow of the crowd. Everyone’s headed in the same direction–the side shows are all done, and it’s time for the headliner at the center stage.

The excitement at seeing Preyer live cheers you up a bit. You like several of their songs, and you’ve heard they have a great stage presence. Some of the people around you even have signs, though they don’t look nearly as happy to be there as you would think someone who went to the trouble of making signs would be.

Come to think of it, Maren doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic, either. His grin is entirely absent, like it was when you first met him earlier in the day. After you both find a good spot to stand at the center stage, you decide to bring it up.

“I guess you don’t like Preyer?” you ask.

“They sound alright, but the bandmates themselves are douchebags,” is his reply. “I’m not about to hold up a sign over it, but I’m not going to cheer them on, either.”

The comment strikes you as weird, and you follow Maren’s gaze to get a proper look at one of the signs someone’s holding. Rather than a message of endearment, like you expected, there is bold, bright red letters reading out:

‘PREYER OF CHILDREN!!!’

The other signs read similarly, and you frown. “What's with those signs?”

“You haven't heard?” Maren says.

“No… Did something happen?”

“You could say that.” He narrows his eyes. “The lead singer of Preyer likes to hook up with underage fans.”

“What?!”

“Yep. Several teenagers have come forward about it. Apparently drugs were involved. But there wasn't any hard evidence, so nothing’s been done.” 

“Oh! That’s awful!”

“Sorry you had to find out like this.” He pats your shoulder, resting his giant hand there. “I know it kinda ruins the vibes of the festival.”

“It's not ruined,” you say quickly. “I mean, maybe this particular concert is, but I'd rather have known.”

Maren nods. “That bastard let down every single person who came out here. Everyone who looked up to him.” His grip on your shoulder tightens, his smile tense. “He doesn't deserve to be the headlining show. He doesn't deserve to play at all.”

You shake your head in agreement. When you next glance up at Maren, he has a sly gleam in his eye, his grin stretching like he just thought of something funny. 

“Maren?”

“I'm gonna head to the restroom. Wait for me, sweetheart.”

You both already made pit stops before coming to the center stage. He might just need to go again, but even having only known him a few hours, you get the distinct feeling that he's up to something. Before you can say anything, though, he pushes through the crowd behind you and disappears.

You wait for him. The time passes, and several minutes turn to half an hour with no sign of Maren. Just as you really start to get concerned, you realize that the crowd has grown unusually tense. It's not the excited kind of tension, either, not an eagerness for the show to start. Rather, every few minutes you look around for Maren and see more and more people looking restless, even angry. People are starting to turn to their neighbors and talk. 

Something is definitely going on. You focus, trying to pick out individual conversations.

“... serious! He slept with a minor, and…”

“...gave alcohol to a kid…”

“... can't be true! He's a good guy...”

“...she was my daughter's age…”

The rumors of what the lead singer did are spreading like wildfire, it seems. You've never seen anything like it. You're not sure how it's happening–there are some protesters, but not enough to cause this–until you see a shock of familiar, burnt-orange hair a ways down the crowd.

But, wait. That can't be Maren. He’s 15 feet tall, and those guys over there are only about 7. You squint, confused to see that yes, it's definitely Maren, albeit shorter somehow. He's got his hand cupped to someone's ear, their face changing from neutral to shocked to angry in quick succession. Maren pulls away and works his way to another section of the crowd, and you suddenly know exactly what's going on.

Maren’s making sure not a single concert-goer hasn't heard about what's happened! You're in shock. He didn’t strike you as the type to care that much. That, or he just wants to start trouble. You're reminded again that you really don't know him that well, but you can't bring yourself to look down on what he's doing, either. 

You lose sight of him as he disappears into the crowd again, and don't see him until the band has finished setting up, when he seemingly materializes next to you.

“Those pretzel sticks didn't agree with you, huh?” you joke. “Looks like the crowd does, though.”

“Imagine that,” he grins. 

The lead singer starts speaking into the mic, only for the crowd to erupt into a cacophony of boos. You glance at Maren, who’s joined them in full force, then at the crowd. You can't help it– you join in too.

The lead singer tries to pacify the crowd to no avail. He can't get a single word in. He grows more frustrated with each attempt, until he finally screams, “Fuck you! We are Preyer, and we're going to rock your world! Five, six, seven, eight!”

The band launches into their first song. It's a shame–the music itself is good, but you can't enjoy it the same, especially not with the undercurrent of jeering. You figure the best option at this point would be to just leave, but Maren has other ideas.

“Charge! The! Stage!” he starts chanting, and your eyes get huge. Before you know it, the people around you pick up the chant. It's barely audible over the music, but steadily, more and more people start joining in, and it grows louder, and louder.

Maren notices your alarm and crouches down next to you, shouting so you can hear him over all the noise. “All good, babe?”

“All good? You're starting a riot!”

“Fuck yeah, I am!” He holds his hand out to you. “Are you with me?”

You stare at his hand for a moment, wondering how you got to this point. You knew, you just knew hanging out with him was a bad idea. He was everything you weren't! Everything you were taught not to be, brash and opportunistic and self-concerned. He would only make you worse, you were sure. But…god help you, you wanted to be like him. You wanted just a piece of that energetic confidence, to feel the warmth of the fire that burned within him. 

Even if you would get burned.

You swing your arm and clasp Maren's hand tightly. “Yeah!”

The crowd festers, the chant spreading like a plague, madder and louder until even avid fans are screaming it. The dissent is close to bursting, but it isn't quite enough. It needs something to push it over that edge. You look around. The larger fans toward the back seem eager to go, but people your size at the front, while angered, are still in place. Those at the back can't move forward until the ones up front do, not without trampling the smaller concert-goers.

You suddenly have a really, really bad idea. It's so, so unlike you, but, hell. If you want to be different… Maybe not at home, but here, maybe you can be…

What's the point of all that sacrifice if you aren't happy?

Fine, then. You'll make the change for yourself, if you have to.

Without warning, you start pushing through the crowd. Maren shouts after you, but you don't stop, and his voice is swallowed up by the chorus of rage. Heart pounding, you elbow and shoulder your way past the throng of people, row after screaming row, the stage getting closer and closer, the music so loud it's deafening. You can't hear the crowd anymore, nor your own crazed, panicky breathing. Only adrenaline keeps you going. Up at the front now, you can see a line of several security guards dotting the space before the stage. You break through the last line of people, charge forward, vault over the divider, and leap for the stage. 

Somehow you make it. You scrabble up and on. A security guard grabs you by the foot, but you yank your leg, your shoe coming off in his hand. The band keeps playing, but the lead singer stops. You charge him, and he scrambles back. But you're not going for him, much as he deserves it.

You grab the mic and scream one word with all your lungs:

“RIOT!”

All hell breaks loose.

The crowd roars, surging forward like a busted dam. The band stops playing. The security guards who followed you onstage are swiftly overwhelmed. One grabs you, but is pulled off you by three other people. The stage is quickly overrun, shouting and chaos all around. You get pushed and jostled by the rush of bodies. Equipment is being thrown, instruments trashed, wires torn. You can't see anything past the bodies and can't gain enough footing to move in any direction of your own choosing. When the larger people from the back reach the stage, you start to worry about getting trampled. Your fear is quickly realized as you're knocked hard onto the ground.

Out of nowhere, a large hand grabs you and pulls you high up–Maren, lifting you into one burly arm.

“You alright?” he shouts.

“Yes!” you half shout, half laugh. 

He grins wide. “Cops are coming. Hold on!”

Maren runs away from the stage. You cling to his vest, but his hold on you is secure. The people around you are going every which direction, some still charging for the stage, some making a break for it like you are. Policemen start cutting into the crowd, rushing to protect the band.

“Where are you going?” you ask him once you've gained some distance from the crowd.

“No clue,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.

“Let’s go to the Saltwater Inn! I have a room there.”

“Where's that?”

“Head south.”

After you're a safe distance from the chaos, Maren slows to a stop and sets you down, catching his breath. You're panting, too, mostly from adrenaline.

“That…that was…” you pant.

“That was insane! You're amazing!” Maren yells.

“I don't know why I did that!” you yell back. “I–I hope no one saw my face! Oh my god…”

He laughs, one hand on his hip. “I was wrong about you, sweetheart. That was pretty ballsy.”

Right then, you notice that Maren has a guitar in his other hand. “Where did you get that?”

“I stole it from backstage while everyone was distracted.”

“Maren!”

“What? You did far crazier back there.”

You should feel guilty, and normally you would, but his toothy grin just makes you break out into a matching smile.

“Okay, good point. But let's not stick around.” You tug on his free hand, and Maren lets you lead him toward the inn.“I saw something weird while you were in the ‘bathroom’,” you say while you walk. “I could have sworn I saw another, smaller you in the crowd.” You give him an accusatory look.

“Heh. Yeah, that was me. I can change my size, cuz I'm a porcupinefish type Fish-man.”

“This isn't your normal size?”

“Nah, but I prefer it.”

The two of you chat as you make it back to the nearby Saltwater Inn. You were lucky enough to reserve one of the last rooms available back when you impulsively decided to attend the festival. The bed was made for someone Maren's size, so you overpaid, but it was worth it to be within walking distance from the festival. You ask Maren where he was sleeping that night while you both remove your shoes, only for him to reply that he had been camping out. At that point you weren't surprised by his answer.

“Wellll…” you flopped back onto the oversized bed. “If you wanted to…you could, you know…stay here? With me?”

Maren flops back next to you, making you bounce and giggle.

“Wellll…” he mimics your tone. “If you're gonna twist my arm about it….” He flashes you his signature grin.

Faces inches from each other, looking into his sparkling eyes, you're suddenly and totally overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. But you haven't kissed anyone in years, and he's so attractive, you don't even know how to begin to process that urge. Cheeks warming, you sit up abruptly and clear your throat.

“You said you could teach me to play if you had a guitar,” you say.

“That I did.” Maren sits up and picks the guitar up off the floor. It's huge, jet black and crimson and covered in stickers. He gently sets it in your arms. “It's a bit big for you, but you should still manage.”

Maren goes over the basics, then spends a few minutes trying to position your fingers. When you still struggle to mimic him, he changes strategies.

“Here,” he says, and picks you up by the hips, making you yelp in surprise. His large arms coming to rest over yours. Like this, it's easier for him to reposition your fingers on the frets. Your face quickly gets hot, but Maren is entirely focused on teaching, his grin more relaxed than it has been all day.

Despite everything you've gone through since meeting him, you don't think he's ever been as attractive as he is when he's guiding you through a song. The intent focus on his face, the warmth of his skin against yours, his low voice praising you as you do well–it all makes your head spin. He goes at a slow, steady pace, teaching you one section at a time, until it’s an hour later and you’re playing your very first song.

You’re brimming with excitement as you finish. It’s your first time playing music, and you think you’re in love. You look up at Maren with a sense of awe and wonder. You created music, almost by yourself. He seems genuinely thrilled to have shown you, too.

“Well done, sweetheart,” he says. “Did you like it?”

“Maren, I loved it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says.

You set the guitar aside and lean back against him, and he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you.

“I’m glad I met you, Maren,” you say.

“Me too.”

You crane your neck back to look up at him. He grins, but it’s not as intense as usual. It’s soft, in a weird way. That feeling of wanting to kiss him washes over you, and Maren acts like he can sense it, because he cups your cheek.

“Whatcha thinking about, sweetheart?” he almost whispers.

“I–I. Um, I.” You giggle nervously. “I think you’re really hot, and I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” He leans closer. “What’s stopping you?”

“Nerves, mostly.”

He chuckles. “Alright, then. How ‘bout I kiss you first?”

You nod, heart racing so fast you think it’ll bruise your sternum. Maren’s thumb strokes your cheek as he takes in your flustered expression. Then he leans in. You shut your eyes, and a moment later, feel the smoothness of his lips pressing to yours.

Tingling, burning warmth courses through your veins at the contact, a taste of his fire. You open your eyes just as he pulls away, his face flushed like yours.

“Fuck,” you say, surprising him into laughter.

“Good?”

“Yeah. Really good.”

“Again?”

“Please, yes–”

He leans in again, and you shift in his lap to straddle one of his giant thighs, lips slightly parted as he kisses you a second time. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck, and you stretch up to meet him so he doesn’t have to bend so much. The second kiss is longer, lighting up your entire body with its passion. He’s not as intense as you expected, almost hesitant in his kissing. You’re not sure you’re doing well, either, but he stays put, so you gain confidence, parting your lips slightly and humming in approval. His tongue probes out to trace your lips, and you gasp before sliding out your own to meet his.

At the touch, you feel the blood rush between your legs. It’s a bit ticklish and wet and so warm, and as Maren closes his mouth to suck on your lower lip, a soft moan trickles out of you before you can help it.

You want him badly, you want all of him. You can feel the desire pouring out of him, too, that inner flame blazing bright and consuming you. He seemed confident throughout the day, but you can’t help but sense that you’re both seeking a kind of solace in the other. It’s been so long since you’ve been close to someone, especially like this, and he’s working up a need in you that’s impossible to ignore.

Maren moves his hands down your back and to your ass, squeezing before tilting you back slightly so he can deepen the kiss, tongue filling your mouth. His kisses turn messy and you do your best to keep up with his heated, dizzying pace, a second moan breaking free when he moves to kiss your neck. You tilt your head to give him easier access, his head filling the space between as he starts to suck on the skin, making a jolt rush straight to your center. You can barely feel the scrape of his sharp teeth, but he doesn’t bite. Maybe it would be dangerous, but you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“Ah…Maren,” you breathe, “Bite me, I–I want you to bite me.”

“Huh? Wait,” he pulls away, giving you both a chance to get your bearings. “I wasn’t kidding when I said my teeth are sharp.”

“Just a nibble?” you plead. “Small and shallow?”

“What are you, a masochist?” Your face burns, but he’s grinning. “Hah! Alright, but hold still, sweetheart. I’ll try not to make you bleed.”

“What are you, afraid of a little blood?” you challenge.

Instantly one of his hands is in your hair, gripping tight by the roots to keep your head still. You moan at the roughness, feeling his grin against the base of your neck before the razor points of his teeth rake your skin. You squirm, and his other hand comes up to grab your shoulder to keep you from moving. The anticipation rockets your arousal from a spark to a burning need, but thankfully he doesn’t make you wait.

There’s a slight, sweet blossoming of pain as his teeth barely sink in. You gasp, legs squeezing his thigh, your breath hitching again when his tongue follows, soothing the sting. He licks back and forth along the spot before slicking his way back to your neck to suck another bruise there, and you can’t help it, you start grinding on his thigh to grant yourself some much-needed relief.

“Fuck,” Maren curses in surprise, pulling back to watch you. The sight must make him impatient, though, because a moment later he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on his crotch. There’s a very large, very hard bulge there, far bigger than your hand. You don’t hesitate to stroke him–you have to work your whole arm to do so–and are rewarded with the beautiful sound of his first moan. His hips cant forward, pushing into your hand, and he’s panting slightly.

“Lie back,” you instruct, and Maren complies, lying back onto the bed. You reposition yourself between his legs so you can grind your crotch directly onto his bulge. He throws his head back and gasps at the same time as you do, his hands coming to grab your hips and pull you onto him harder.

Before you risked buying a small, discreet vibrator, you used to get off by grinding on stacked pillows. The sensation of grinding on Maren, however, was so much better that you found yourself whimpering. His bulge was large enough to provide a firm pressure against your entire vulva, and his breathy, restrained moans only fueled your need. After all the teasing of his kisses, you were already worked up, and it didn’t take you much longer before you were rapidly climbing up and over the peak, a soft cry as you cum.

The orgasm wracks your body, and you hump him desperately throughout it until it finally subsides. You go still, leaning against his belly and catching your breath.

“Why’d you stop?” Maren raises his head to look at you. His brows rise in realization. “Did you cum?”

“Y-Yeah,” you pant. His toothy smirk makes you feel tingly all over again, and you crawl up his body to kiss him some more.

You make out feverishly, all earlier hesitation gone, replaced by hot, needy kisses and nibbles. You pull away just long enough to take off your shirt, throwing it to the side before your bra follows. Maren’s hands are on your breasts in an instant, kneading the soft flesh and making you moan into his mouth. It turns to a sharp cry as his thumbs find your nipples.

“Ya like that?” he husks, and you nod quickly, going to kiss him again and whimpering against his lips when he continues to rub the sensitive nubs. He grants you a brief reprieve as his hands slide down your sides and hips, fingers hooking under the band of your pants, and you break away to remove them and your underwear.

Maren slides a finger between your lower lips, eyes widening at the amount of slick he feels. “Shit, you are so wet.”

“Maren, please–”

You don’t need to say anything more. He slides his middle finger through your folds, up and down, up and down, building up an anticipation that shatters as his finger sinks inside you.

“Ahh!” you cry out as he pushes it deeper, grabbing his forearm to stabilize yourself. His hands are so large, fingers so thick that he can reach all the way to your cervix without stretching. You clench down on the thick digit, dizzy at how easily just one fills you up.

Maren starts to pump his finger slowly, and pleasure shoots through you. The muscles of his forearm flex beneath your hand as he soon fingers you into a mess, your legs shaking as you grind into his palm. He’s biting his lip at the sight of you coming undone on just his hand.

“Kuh, keep going!” you pant desperately. “More, more!”

“More?” he pushes his ring finger at your entrance. “Like this?”

“Yes! Nnnh–!” Your back arches as he pushes the second finger inside you along with the first, the stretch persistent and pleasant and filling. The slick, wet squelch rings in your ears. You rub your clit desperately with one finger, eyes rolling back.

“Shit,” he curses. “Look at you, so needy. Who woulda thought under all that, you’re just a needy little slut?”

Maren slides his other hand up your side to flick at your nipple with his thumb, and his fingers curl abruptly inside you, making you cry out in surprise and delight, the mounting pleasure spiking in intensity. He rubs insistently at your g-spot, and this time, when your orgasm slams into you, he can feel it fluttering around his fingers.

“Ah, ahh–!” You curl forward, almost weak from the intensity, shivers going through you along with the throbbing of your clit. “Coming!”

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “It’s cute how easily you cum.”

“I want my third one to be from you fucking me,” you state intently. His eyes go wide a moment before he laughs.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“That’s right. I want you to make me regret ever having run into you. I want to think about tonight for the rest of my life.”

Maren’s blush deepens, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he grins. “You keep catching me off guard, you know that? Alright, then. You think you can take it, then I’ll give it to you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and uses the slicked digits to tease your nipples. The stimulation is different with the new lubrication, but in a good way, a sigh falling from your lips as he works heat into your body anew. You take his hand, pulling it up to your mouth, and lick the sticky fluid from his fingers. His breath hitches as you surprise him once more, a tender moan coming out when you start to suck on his fingers, one at a time.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Maren groans, his other hand reaching down to undo his zipper. He hastily shoves his boxers down to pull out his cock, jerking himself to the sight and sensation of your little mouth on his fingers. “How–how do you want to do this? I don’t have a condom.”

You take his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “I have the implant.” You glance over your shoulder and flush hot all over at the sight of his massive cock in his hand. Naturally he’s proportional, and there’s no way it’s going to fit as he is. “Um…you’re huge, Maren. I don’t think it’s gonna–wait, you can make yourself smaller, right?”

He looks conflicted at the idea. “How small are we talking?”

You weren’t sure what his aversion to being smaller was, but you didn��t want to make him uncomfortable. Thinking for a moment, you offer, “what if I mount you, and you just shrink until it goes in? If you get to a point where you don’t want to keep going, you can stop and we’ll do something else.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Maren nods, seemingly put at ease.

You tug at his vest. He chuckles and removes it, then his pants and boxers. As soon as he’s naked, you throw your arms around his neck and start making out with him again.

“You know,” you say between kisses, “perk of you–being smaller–can kiss and fuck me–at the same time.”

He hums in response, not outright rejecting the idea. At his current height, riding him meant he couldn’t kiss you without breaking his spine. But at his current height, nothing was going to happen anyway.

Maren’s heated kisses work you back into a frenzy of need until you’re breaking away, licking the large scar on his left pectoral before kissing down his chest and belly, until your ass is pressed against his cock. It’s so big it touches your lower back, leaving a smear of precum on your skin.

“Okay,” you say, taking hold of his cock and positioning yourself over it. Maren sucks in a breath at the touch, and you follow suit as you press the blunt head against your vulva. It’s like trying to fuck an eggplant, it’s just not gonna happen, though the wet, smooth skin does feel good against you. “I’m ready.”

Maren nods and lets out a sigh. You feel a slight shift, not immediately realizing he’s changing, until a second later when you realize his head no longer reaches the pillow. He shrinks slowly, losing inch by inch, and you wiggle your hips a little to feel if he’s small enough yet.

You both gasp as he starts to penetrate you, but he can’t get further than the head.

“A-Almost,” you stammer. Another inch of height off, and you’re able to sink down onto him slowly. “There! Yes!”

Overall, Maren’s only lost about four feet of height. At 11 feet tall he’s still huge in comparison to you, and you’re a bit surprised at yourself. 

He must be, too, because he asks, “It’s not too much?” 

“I think–I can handle–nnng…” You lose focus as he bottoms out. His cock is still huge, bigger than anyone you’ve been with or any toy you’ve used, and the stretch hurts just a little bit. But he seemed so reluctant to get smaller, you don’t want to push him any more than he has. You just need some time to adjust, and you tell him as much.

“Ya sure, babe?”

“Yeah…It’s, it’s kind of good like this…” you hang your head down, looking at the point where your bodies are connected. There’s still several inches of him left out. He’s so thick that the broad head of him pushes firmly against your g-spot and doesn’t let you forget it’s there. You lift your hips experimentally, and the movement makes you both gasp again, a jolt of intertwined heat.

“Fuck, how are you taking so much? Little thing like you,” Maren’s hands rest on your hips as you start moving up and down. “You like big dick, huh, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, yes,” you pant as you start riding him in earnest. “Oh–oh, fuck, Maren…”

“You’re more wild than you let on. I think you’ve been waiting for something like this, huh? Waiting for someone like me.” His breath is heavy, his husky words encouraging. “So wound up when we first met–turns out all you needed was to let loose, hmm?”

He’s not even dirty talking, not really, but the way he speaks to you just makes you wetter. You’re able to keep going thanks to it, keeping the friction from getting uncomfortable. Panting, you roll your hips as you ride him, grinding him where you need him most.

“Tell me how it feels, tell me how that big dick feels,” Maren says.

“Good! Feels so good!”

He rewards you with a sudden, hard spank, and you gasp.

“You got tighter! You are a masochist.”

He smacks you again, making you cry out. “Maren!”

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name!”

Smack!

“Maren-!”

Your pace slows as you tire–the festival has you drained–but Maren doesn’t hesitate to grab your hips, bracing his legs against the bed to thrust up into you. His tongue pokes out slightly as he pants, bouncing you on his cock, and you’re able to rub your clit now that he’s picked up the slack.

He moans, grip tightening on your hips as his pace picks up. Each thrust shoves you closer and closer to the edge until you crash over it with a strangled cry of his name, orgasm ripping through you.

“I got ya,” he pants, his hurried thrusts work you through your orgasm, head spinning at the feel of your walls spasming around him. “Gonna…ah, shit, I’m gonna cum…!”

He stops abruptly, pulling you down onto him so hard it hurts a little, head thrown back and moaning from deep in his gut. His cock throbs as he empties inside you, and then there’s no sound left but the both of you catching your breath.

He softens inside you, but is still so large he doesn’t fall out until you get off of him. You collapse next to his side, resting your head against him, a thick haze of relief and sated pleasure fogging up your brain.

Maren’s arm slings over your body, pulling you closer. You look up at him. He smiles when your gazes meet, that charming, devilish grin that got you here.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Never been better.” You match his grin. “Next round, can you fuck me against the wall?”

“On the wall, on the table, on the floor…” he trails off, and you both giggle. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“One more day of the festival left.”

You cuddle into his side. “Will you spend it with me?”

Maren’s gaze softens. “Of course, sweetheart.”

It turns out that Maren has far more stamina than you do. He puts you through your paces, and you’re exhausted and sore the next day, leading him to practically carry you around. The final show is incredible, and when the day comes to a close and it’s time to part ways, you tear up a little. Maren’s as cheerful as ever, but you can see past the front he puts out just a little, now–you know he’s bummed, too.

“Keep your chin up, sweetheart. Maybe someday we’ll meet again.” He says, wiping at the corners of your eyes. “Promise me you won’t miss a guy like me too much?”

You smile and nod, even as you lie through your teeth. “I promise.”

[saltminerising]

Solution to multis: lock the main for like, a year. Boom, they miss a whole fest cycle, a whole notn, potentially miss out on big ticket items or big raffles

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

04/09/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rachel House; Jes Tom; Kat Buchanan; GypsyTaylor; Big Gay Energy Podcast; Unicorn Day; Uproar; Watch Party Reminders; Fan Spotlights: OurDragMeansSlay; Cast Cards; TealOrange & Garlic Soup Prompt Week! Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

== Rachel House ==

Rachel House's new directorial movie topped the charts in Taranaki!

== Jes Tom ==

Gonna be in New York in May? Well Jes Tom and lot's over other asian comics will be performing at the 2024 Asian Comedy Fest! For tickets visit: asiancomedyfest.com. 2024 Asian Comedy Fest IG

== Kay Buchanan ==

Kay Buchanan, one of the prop designers for OFMD s2 dumped a bunch of prop pics today for Izzy's leg! Src: Kay Buchanan IG

== Unicorn Day! ==

Yesterday was National Unicorn! Some of our lovely crew put out some dedications For Our New Unicorn! Img Src: @blueberreads

== More Uproar News! ==

Uproar is coming to digital on April 30 so those of you who couldnt get in to a theatre to see it can purchase and download it at home!

For those still interested in theatres-- if you happen to be nearby, @elby3000 was kind enough to note that theUproar opening date at Salem Cinema (Oregon) of April 12 at Blue Fox Entertainment may be in error. The theatre's website lists opening as April 19 (subject to change). Just in case you happy to be looking for one there!

== Watch Party Reminders! ==

== Flight Of the Conchords ==

Today we're on Season 1 Ep 5 and 6. Join OFMD Crew, and @iamadequate1 this week for Flight of the Conchords watch parties! You can watch each day at 4pm PT, 7 pm ET, 11pm BST! If you don't have access, feel free to join us on the #RhysDarbyFaction Discord server, you can hit me up for an invite.

Hashtags:

#FlagOfTheConchords

#OurFlagMeansDeath

== Taskmaster NZ ==

*Please Note*: @ineffablecollision was kind enough to let us know of some desyncing issues! Thanks friend!

"During the TMNZ watch party, depending on where you watch, you *will* get desynced! I don't know if TVNZ kept the ad break bumpers, but Ch4 has one missing (TMNZ has four ad breaks compared to TMUK's three, so they cut to fit), and YT has them cut altogether!"

Series 1 continues Weds at 11am PT / 2 pm ET / 7 pm BST on any of the @saveofmdcrewmates socials.

#Quartermaster

#OurFlagMeansDeath

Taskmaster

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Big Gay Energy Podcast =

Our Big Gay Energy Podcast interviewed Gypsy Taylor and we learned some pretty amazing things. Some highlights:

Stede's cravat was fabric left over from his old couch

Ed kept the teal robe (the one he wears the morning after calypso) as a memory of Stede and then Taika kept the robe after the show.

Please check out the whole episode below!

Where to Watch Where to Listen

= Our Drag Means Slay =

Hey all! Are you in the Chicago area? Why not checkout Our Drag Means Slay on April 27! It's $25/ticket and doors open at 5:55pm! For Tickets

= Teal Oranges & Garlic Soup Week! =

A new celebration week is coming up in June for all things Jim/Oluwande and Archie/Jim/Oluwande/Zheng (or any combo in between!) Prompts will be released on April 15th!

When: Sunday June 23 - Saturday June 29th! How: Create or Share - Fic, art, and other fan creations!

Please follow them on Tumblr! @garlicsoupweek You can visit: Linktr.ee Or follow them on Twitter!

= Cast Cards =

Today's cast card is Jennifer Onyeiwu, one of the lovely pirates that asked Stede out for a drink in "Man On Fire". If we ever get a s3 I hope she comes back-- thanks @melvisik!

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. This weeks turning out to be a bit of a doozy. I hope you all are practicing some self care. It's been a lot lately. I have seen a lot of you mentioning re-watching the show, which I love. It feels like we are getting past the raw part of our grief into being able to celebrate it as a group again.

Be kind to yourselves lovelies, be kind to yourself and others. There's enough hate in this world that we don't need to add undo stress to others or especially ourselves.

Love you crew.

Img Src: @BethDrawsThings IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

The theme today is, there are two wolves inside of me, both of these gifs represent them

Darby Gif Courtesy of @ofmd-ann

Taika Gif Courtesy of @gentlepanpirate

[fangirlfrom-hell]

Music Fest || Jay and Will Halstead x Halstead Sister

Warnings (that are not really warnings): language and dirty lyrics of a song, but nothing really bad. *I translated the song from one in Spanish 🤫

"No!", both Jay and Will said unison looking down to their little sister.

"But, like, why not?"

"You're still too young...those music festivals are always full of drunk people", Will said without even raising his head to look at her.

"...and I don't want to be all night stuck to the radio listening to every incident that happens in said event. You have no idea how wild they get", the detective completed.

Becca just rolled her eyes, her brothers were exaggerating everything, as usual.

"You don't have to, I'll go with my group of friends, won't be alone"

"Oh! you mean the same friends that leaved you alone that night in the middle of the street and you had to call me scared and crying to pick you up?" Will raised his brows, still mad at the memory.

"That was once and no, I'm not going with them. I'm going with my friends from acting class"

"Oh, well, that changes...nothing", he joked.

"In fact...", Jay intervened while pouring some coffee in his mug, "that only makes it worse"

"Oh, come on! I'll buy the ticket with my savings! You don't even have to give me money!"

Jay took one hand to rub his face, the same conversation had been repeated countless times during the week and he was getting tired of it "Stop wasting your energies! The answer will always be the same..."

"No!", both of her brother repeated with a stern but tired tone. She didn’t have a chance to win.

"Ugh! You never let me do anything fun!" The youngest Halstead said while slamming the door of her room, which put an end to the conversation.

Undazed, Will and Jay remained in the kitchen as if nothing had happened, they were already used to Becca’s teenage outbursts.

A few days passed and the girl was still mad at her brothers, she was already a grown up and was able to take care of herself, why wouldn’t they let her go? Life was unfair.

Becca was on her bed when a knock on the door interrupted her toughts, and knowing it was Jay, she laid her head down pretending to be asleep. She was upset and playing to be offended.

"I know you're awake", he said coming into the room.

"What?" The girl slowly raised her head, pretending she didn't know what he was talking about.

Her brother laughed, "Am I wasting my money in your classes? Because you are a terrible actress"

She rolled her eyes and sat on the bed, "What do you want, Jay Jay?”

He sighed before speaking up, hands on his hips “Do you still have the money for the ticket?”

Becca opened her big eyes wide and turned to face him, answering even before he could finish the question, “Yes! Why?”

“Ok. Here’s the deal, you can go, bu—” in an instance, she was hanging from his neck, “But I’m not giving you any money…”

She suddenly became suspicious, “Wait! Is this a trap?”

Jay strangely smirked, “No, is just…you were very excited…”

Becca was shouting out of happiness, jumping on her bed “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“I gotta work that day, so Will’s taking you there and picking you up at 10, not later!"

“Fine”

“No alcohol!” Jay pointed towards her with each pronounced word. “If I find out you drink a drop of alcohol, you’ll be grounded and locked inside the house for the rest of your life, you hear me?”

“I’ll get an underage ticket, they won’t even sell me anything even if I wanted to”

“Hmm”, he crossed his arms incredulous trying to read if his sister was just acting innocent or she was really naive. Whichever the answer was, didn’t help for the fact that he didn’t really wanted her to go.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jay Jay!" She hugged him one more time and he smiled.

Time passed by really slow since she got her ticket, excitment filled her body as the day approached. This was an important date, her very first music festival! She wanted it to be perfect in all ways. She wanted to look good, aesthetic and pretty. The chosen outfit was a skirt with red squares to her waist and fishnet tights with a translucid blouse; for her feet, her favorite platform black boots. She felt pretty that way, until she went out of her room and Will’s expresion lowered her bliss

“NO!” He said as soon as he saw her sideways, “Go change, you are not leaving the house like that!”

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking?”, her eldest brother crossed his arms. “Skirt’s too short and I can see through your blouse”

“Yea, and I have a bralett under, no big deal”

Her brother’s face started to match his red hair.

“I’ve used these clothes before right in front of you and you’ve never had any problem with it!”

“Yea, because you’re always out with us, your big brothers, one of them an ex-soldier and current cop who could kill with his sight, which means you are safe! But now you are going all alone to a freakin’ festival full of drunk and drugged people”

Becca couldn’t do anything but pull a face.

“Go find something else!”

“Fine!” She shouted with watery eyes.

“No one is going to ruin my day”, she muttered to herself while changing her clothes. “I can still look good and cool on jeans”

But Will only approved after she changed five different times.

“Much better”, he clapped when she finally came out with mom jeans and a oversized band t-shirt, which still made her look pretty, but not the type of pretty she expected.

“Let’s get out of here, please! I’m already running late”, she hurried with a gesture of annoyance.

Will leaved her where her friends were waiting, “10 PM I’ll be right here. One minute late and you’ll have to deal with Jay”, he threatened one last time before parting.

“Wow, you weren’t joking about your brothers”, a girl said as they all walked to the entrance.

“Yea, they have seen some shit at work, that’s why they are the way they are”, Becca aknowledged and felt a bit bad for the way she had reacted to all this festival matter, after all, they were only trying to take care of her.

When their tickets were checked, they crossed to line up to the filter, before they could actually get in.

“But, hey! There are no more brothers here! No parents either”, noticing Becca’s seriousness, a girl crossed her arm around her neck “We’ll have fun and they don’t even have to know about it, right?”

They all laughed, but a familiar gentile voice made Becca’s blood run cold, “Please, open your bag, young ladie”. Slowly and not wanting to, she raised her head to meet Burgess’ gaze. The police officer was smiling, mocking her for the surprised expression she made when she saw her.

“You are all good, Beccs”, she handed her pertenences back, “You can go in”.

But the girl was in a zombie mode, for another peculiar voice was heard at her back. She quickly turned to witness how Adam was checking her male friends’ pockets, “You can’t bring opened boxes of cigarretts in. Wait! You can’t even smoke, you’re underage. Give me that!”

In a moment, Ruzek’s eyes met the Halstead sister and he waved his hand to her, “Oh! Hey, Becky Beccs”

“Oh, fuck!” Becca couldn’t help to say outloud.

“This was the reason why they had let me come out of the sudden”, she was so into her toughts. “The place is full of Intelligece cops that would not take their eyes off of me. They must’ve been lacking personal and Sergeant Platt asked them to do extra hours, that had happened before. I should had known better, that’s why Jay said he would be working today”

Wait.

“Jay said he would be working that day meant that he is here, right here at the festival”

As they walked in, Becca couldn’t stop looking around to see if she spotted her brother. She was now feeling anxious, couldn’t even pay attention to the conversations her friends were having. Even when she couldn’t see Jay, she was sure he knew where she was.

Whenever she tried to forget about it and do something fun, she found another familiar faces: first it was Kevin, who approached her to fist bump and tell her where he would be all night if she happened to need something, “You’re the safest girl in this place”, he winked. Then, she witnessed how he pointed at her while talking to her fellow cops, as giving instructions; later, she ran into Sergeant Platt, or better said Trudy yelled her name loudly, and decided to take a picture with the girl; the only detective that gave her space was Hailey, who smiled at her from the distance when they saw each other, altough maybe it was only because she was busy scolding a drunk girl to the ambulance.

It was already night and Becca had barely enjoyed her time at the festival. She regretted that. When you wait for something with such anticipation and excitement, it is very easy to get dissapponted when something doesn’t go as planned, even if it’s a small thing. She was feeling a bit sad, but at the same time she was invaded by a feeling of freedom when she saw her friends dancing and singing loud under the moon. One of them stretched her hand inviting her to dance…

You’ve got such a good view when you put me on all fours

And Becca decided she could enjoyed the rest of the night by pretending she wasn’t the sister of her brother, ignoring the cops around.

If my dad finds out about this he’ll kill you

As she started to have fun, the music sounded louder in her ears…

Check out my trick, be careful

And she forgot about everything and everyone around her, it was just her an her friends. Soon, she was among them dancing and singing her lungs out.

An amazing bitch, curvy and eloquent

Her eyes were closed as she was guided by the beat.

Magnificently colossal

And when she finally was having fun, she opened her eyes.

Extravagant and animal

And Jay was right next to the crowd staring at her with eyes like saucers. He was visibly mad by the way she was moving and the election of song. He was slightly saying no with his head, his lips as tight as his crossed arms. She freezed, couldn’t even blink, but anyway raised her hand to say hello in an akward way. She noticed how Hailey was draggin him by the arm trying to take him out of there. Needless to say she couldn’t keep dancing.

Becca was outside before 10:00 PM, what she wanted the most was to get out of there before Jay would reach her. That scene was on the top 3 of her most embarrassing moments of her life.

Will arrived punctually, “How was it?” He asked, laughing while starting the car, of course he already knew the answer.

“Oh, it was so much fun”, she said from the back seat, frowning to the window.