#but can we find something that's not ballet tights??

[episims]

Right... there's supposed to be a wish...

I want to—no. I'm getting lessons from a high witch now! I will prove them wrong. I'm going to be a better witch than everyone at the school combined!

...I just wish they won't get angry at me.

[that-culdesac-kid]

So, let's talk about Tamarack and Qiu's "fancy outfits"!

I was looking back at the fancy outfits post from two years ago, and I find it interesting that gb patch said they're for two different occasions, because I initially thought they're for the same events (like a school play or something). So I figured it'd be fun to look more into them and guess what those "two different occasions" are!

Totally not because of favoritism, let's start with Tamarack!

It seems like she's wearing a dirndl dress. The overall shape and design match the key features you can usually find in a dirndl (close-fitting bodice with cross lacing and low neckline, blouse underneath the bodice, wide high-waisted skirt with apron), and I think it'd make sense for her to wear it since she's part German.

While I was searching about this, I actually found some kid dirndl designs that look pretty close to the one she's wearing. I think these might be the vibes that gb patch/the sprite artist were going for? So pretty!

But what prompted Tamarack to get all dressed up with such a pretty dirndl in the first place? This is just my personal guess, but I think it might be for Oktoberfest. It's one of the events where dirndl is usually worn, and the time frame will really match the autumn setting of olnf.

As for Qiu, he's dressed in black tights and has his hair in a neat bun like he usually does in ballet class, so it's save to assume that he's wearing a costume for a ballet performance.

I was looking at ballet costume designs on the internet a while ago, and I think his outfit might be a combination of these two:

The first design has similar-looking buttons, floofy sleeves, and overall shape of the lower part, while the second design has matching belt, collar, and overall shape of the upper part. Though, this is just me guessing and the outfit was most likely created with different inspirations in mind.

Sadly, we can't really tell what kind of performance he'd be doing from his costume alone. My best guess is he's dancing for a ballet recital, though it'd be unusual to have one in autumn since they're usually held in spring. So it's also possible that he's dancing for other kind of performance or for a competition.

So... To sum it all up: we will probably have a Qiu-focused ballet recital moment and a Tamarack-focused festival moment in step 1. It's pretty exciting to think about the possibilities!

[sunnys-out]

Dance the Night | Lucy Bronze

A/N: Based on this request. Please enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, I am actually going to have a FaceTime date with my own Northern English, defender this Sunday so wish me luck :)

Also, I imagine that these are the types of dance covers that you would post on Tik Tok btw.

Word count: 2823

Warnings: Suggestive themes/statements

Baby, you can find me under the lights

Diamonds under my eyes

Turn the rhythm up, don't you wanna just

Come along for the ride?

Oh, my outfit is so tight

You can see my heartbeat tonight

I can take the heat, baby, best believe

That's the moment I shine

Lucy and I had the shared experience of playing in an American university. The only difference was that UC Berkeley was my home for my time there. 

One of the things that I did during my four years at Cal that made them special and even was something that people loved learning about me was that I was also a part of a dance group whilst playing football. When I was in America, I found that dance was a good way to maintain my cardio and it was a fun way to keep my mind off of football for a bit. I used to do ballet as a kid and did some hip-hop dancing as I grew older so it was not something too out of the ordinary. 

Even though football was my true calling, that did not stop me from dancing in the locker rooms before games, and posting little dance covers on Tik Tok during camps at the behest of Mary Earps.  The only reason that the fans got wind of the fact that I’m that teammate constantly dancing was because of Lucy, who was filming one time before we played in a friendly against Germany and posting it on Instagram. She says that I didn’t pull her immediately that day but I know Lucy and I saw the way she watched me behind the phone as I danced to Work Out by J. Cole.

During the Euros, it became a thing, I guess, for the main Lionesses Instagram to post my pregame dances in the locker room. One of those I ended up teaching Miss Lucy Bronze how to slow dance which turned into a faster dance much to Lucy’s dismay. Lucy twirling me into a hold was the focal point of the video and I get why this one became a fan favorite and material for loads of couple edits of us. 

The caption of said post, “@bbcstrictly @y/n is waiting for her call-up! 👀” 

Of course I commented, “@y/n: @bbcstrictly ok but actually I would be down, I love love love the show 💃🙏” 

Post win at the Euros, I was getting a call from the producers of Strictly Come Dancing to perform a one-time, special dance. They said that it was some kind of honoring fit for a new European champion.

I worked it out with my management that it would definitely be something that I could do after the World Cup since that was my next objective after a successful Euros run. 

During the off time in the World Cup, I found myself talking to the producers as they had ideas of the performance and the choreography that would go with it. So, sometimes I would have to deny a walk with Lucy to figure out some logistics. I was met with a small but still visible pout from Lucy as she only nodded and would call up Jordan to take my place.

My attention was monopolized once we finalized what song and choreography we were aiming for and of course my new dance partner. I didn’t really know the guy but apparently he was on a reality show and all the girls were after him. The only taste of reality shows that I had was occasionally watching Love Island over Rachel and Millie’s shoulders on bus rides to games. I did not understand at all what went on but the drama was entertaining from what I saw. 

______________________________________________________________

“So, you’re not going to tell me the name of the song you will be dancing to?” Lucy said as she remained sitting on the hotel bed as she watched me change into something nicer than the training set I had been in all day. Eyes trained on me the whole time. 

“Nope, it’s a surprise, baby. Sworn to secrecy anyways” I said as I got ready for our walk.

Lucy frowned as she started scratching her neck “well at least show me who you are going to be dancing with, like what if it’s a weirdo you know?” 

I comply and give her my phone after I look up the name of the guy they had paired me up with. 

“Not too bad looking right?” I tease, as I put on some dunks and ask for my phone back.

Lucy raised an eyebrow and laughed a little, “I know I can’t dance like you but ya think it’s too late to ask if I could be your dance partner?”

Now it was my turn to laugh, “don’t be jealous baby, now let’s get going there is a cafe with a chocolate pastry I wanted to try!” 

I pulled her up ignoring the small pout and muttering “ ‘m not jealous” as I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and dragged her out of the door.

______________________________________________________________

After our loss at the World Cup final and a lot of tearful goodbyes to the other girls, Lucy and I made our way back to Barcelona and just took some time to decompress. 

One of Lucy’s favorite things to wake up to was seeing me in the kitchen making myself breakfast, dancing in silence with my airpods in my ears without a care in the world. 

This particular Saturday morning, however, she was confused because instead of a loose, messy  bun, my hair was brushed and down. 

Instead of one of my old, English training shirts, I was in a lilac crop top and denim shorts that showed off my legs and not my old PSG shorts. 

As she got closer, the smell of her favorite perfume on me hit her nose, suddenly Lucy stood there wondering what day it was and did she fuck up and forgot some anniversary. 

As I turned to go to our fridge to pull out the water pitcher, I caught sight of Lucy just standing by the kitchen island. 

“Baby, you know it’s rude to stare” I tease and followed up with a quick kiss on her cheek “Good Morning, sleepy head”

Lucy remained silent for a beat before going, “Why are you all dressed up on a Saturday morning?...Did I forget something?” 

She rubbed her eyes, lifting her clear glasses as she did so.

“Nope, our anniversary is still Bastille day, uh my birthday hasn’t changed and yours is still in October” I listed them off on my fingers and then continued as if I didn’t leave Lucy even more confused as I began cleaning the counter. 

A pair of arms wrapped around me stopping me in my tracks as Lucy burrowed her head into my neck taking in the perfume I wore. 

“Then will Miss L/N tell me where she is going dressed like this, hm?” She mumbled as she placed a chaste kiss on my neck.

“Going to get lunch with…ugh what was his name? The one I'm going to be dancing with for Strictly Dancing, baby” I say, nonchalantly, a smirk creeping at my mouth as I felt Lucy’s arms tighten around me and her mouth getting close to my ear.

Lucy did not show jealousy often but I loved it when she did. I loved teasing her but she would always dismiss it saying that she knew that I was hers so why should she worry.  But the tone of her voice gave her away. 

“Oh really?” She says softly in my ear before turning me around my back to the countertop now. My face remained unfazed as I nodded, even though I was loving everything about the interaction.

“Yes?” I nod over to the other counter across from me. “I made you some breakfast so ya don’t miss me too much, even cut you some fruit”. 

The softness and nonchalant nature of my voice made her jaw tightened a bit. 

“Want me to go with you?” she said not letting me go, still caging me in against the counter.

I thought for a moment and then shook my head “no” and simply replied.

“I’m a big girl. Don’t you worry, Lucia” My eyebrows raised slightly as Lucy pulled back.  

Lucy moves her arms back to her side, “Fine, but I’m driving you” 

She did end up driving me to the little brunch place and ignored my “protests” of “you don’t have to walk me to the restaurant, Luce” as she held me tightly at the waist, her hand possessively on the bare skin on my waist.

I let myself out of Lucy’s hold as I introduced myself to my dance partner. He truly was the object of every other girls dream…just not mine. He wasn’t unattractive at all. Even though Lucy came literally holding me at the waist, it didn’t stop my dance partner from subtly looking me up at down.

“Well, it’s great to meet a Euro Champion and a world cup finalist, (y/n)” he said avoiding Lucy’s glare through her sunglasses. 

I stop him and laughed, “well technically two, this is Lucy Bronze, my partner, she was just dropping me off” 

Lucy only extends her hand out to the guy and firmly shakes his hand and mutters out “pleasure”.

The guy only nods “well, I’ll make sure she gets home safely”.

I hide the smile on my face when I saw Lucy, still holding his hand, say bluntly. 

“Oh? No, I’ll be picking her up, don’t you worry” the guy’s hand falling limp as she let’s go. 

I give Lucy a hug and planned to just give her a quick kiss on the cheek but she pulled me closer to her by the waist and gave me a slow kiss on the lips,

Before I pull away, she whispered quietly in my ear, “just wanted to make sure he knows who you're coming home to”

______________________________________________________________

The little brunch outing was interesting to say the least. The boy was bold given Lucy did stare him down when she picked me up like she promised. Especially as we left the restaurant but I, kindly, avoided his “subtle” advances of him trying to lead me to Lucy’s car. 

What had been discussed about the dance and from what I could see is that I would be the main focal point and he would be, for lack of a better term, an accessory. I, of course, would not be telling Lucy that immediately, I was very much enjoying the attention she was giving me. 

It being essentially a solo dance made it easier since I have training and I wouldn't have to rely on someone else to also learn the choreography…which allowed for me to work on a little surprise for Lucy with my extra free time. 

______________________________________________________________

“Baby, can you help me with something?” I yelled down the hall of our shared apartment.

Lucy came in shortly with a raised eyebrow “ yeah what’s up?”

“Remember how you said that you wanted to be my dance partner instead of what’s his face?” I say as I move some of our furniture out of the way to make space in the middle all while trying to not hit Narla in the process. 

Lucy looked at me confused and with a laugh said, “I never said that…what’d you need though?”

I grab her hands and pull her to the middle of our living room “Well can you be my dance partner? You know with all the training and all I can’t really practice the choreo with him…so you want to help me?”

Lucy smiled and nodded as she pulled me closer to her and gave me a twirl “Ok, miss l/n, lead on”

______________________________________________________________

My, sweet, Lucia can be a wonderful dancer when she puts time into in. She followed my direction even though the “quick movements of the dance” were something she would have to get used to but eventually after a couple of weeks. She was able to fluidly hold me and move with me.

Narla definitely got a kick out of her two moms doing something akin to the salsa in the living room. I would say Lucy, even with the groans and complaints, secretly, enjoyed it as well.

The day of filming came quickly and out of nowhere and we were filming it in the streets of Barcelona; there was just no way we would be able to fly to England and back, especially with pre-season and games starting. 

I just want to give a special thank you to M&S for giving Lucy that outfit she wore during that one photoshoot we had with England, honestly, doing the Lord’s work. I had subtly asked that I would love to see her wear it again and again subtly suggested she wear it to the Strictly Dancing shoot and I just love it when she listens to me.

Luce was behind the cameras and chatted with the producers as they waited for me to come out of the dressing room ready to film.

As I was led out with my hand loosely in my dance partner’s I reveled the intensity of Lucy’s stare. 

Why? 

Well I had a silver, fringe dress with an open back and the dress came up to my mid thigh and matching high heels  and, well the fact, my dance partner was trying ever so slightly to get closer to me as we were speaking with the director. 

As we got into position, center “stage” in the streets of Barcelona, I look over to Lucy and give a quick wink to her. 

“Dance the Night by Dua Lipa” started to play on the set.  I began moving quickly and sensually and interacting very little with my partner. The fringe of the dress definitely did not leave much to the imagination. There were parts where his hand would find my waist but those lasted only a few seconds.

Lucy watched, not letting me escape her sight and hid her frown as she noted the times my dance partner would slow the movements of his hands once they reached my waist or when he looked me over as I danced a little ahead of him. 

We did not anticipate it being a one take but it was something that I wanted as it was more real in a way. As the music faded and the host came onto the stage to interview me, I caught Lucy in the corner of my eye, and she was smiling so big and visibly more relaxed.

“(y/n), so happy you could be here and we are just so happy to celebrate you and your achievements. How does it feel?” I hold the microphone, still catching my breath

“I loved this to be honest, love the show, and dancing is just something that I enjoy other than football. Uh, it’s definitely been some time since I’ve performed at this scale but it was absolutely a treat, thank you all for inviting me” I said gesturing to the crew members.

“Well, again we are happy to be a part of this and we know that another Euro Champions is in our midst, and I know that you had a little something prepared for the both of you?” The cameras now focused on a very confused Lucy.

I laugh and continue, “Yes, Miss Bronze, she thinks she has been helping me practice for this sole performance but we were actually going to dance together as well, come on babe” I gesture for her to come onto the stage.

The interviewer walks off announcing, “and now for a special dance by  the Euro Champions and World Cup Finalists choreographed by Miss (y/n) (l/n)”.

Lucy finally reached me and whispered, “You little sneak,you planned this didn’t you?” 

I only wink and immediately pushed Lucy into position like we have been doing at home in our living room.

“Maybe~”  The music restarted and Lucy with the biggest smile on her face did everything perfectly. There were some slips in the movement but they were replaced with laughter as Lucy held onto me tightly as the music faded.

She hugged me tightly whispering, “Im so proud of you” her hands finding their place at my hips.

I gave her a quick kiss on the lips as we both ignored the claps from the crew members. 

“So…would it be wrong to ask if you can keep the dress?” I smack her slightly at the question.

I give her a knowing smile, “Dress is mine to keep, but I don’t want to keep it on for too long, Miss Lucia Bronze”

I have never seen Lucy excuse herself, thank all the crew members and wish everyone a wonderful weekend so quickly before carrying me off the set in the midst of a fit of laughter. 

Let’s just say that these scenes from the recording quickly overtook the locker room dance in edits and well it was all worth the teasing from our teammates when it finally aired. 

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Vaggie Redesign🦋

Made my own version of Vaggie for fun! Out of everyone so far, redesigning her was the funnest to play around with. There was a lot to consider!!! Spoiler alert for those who haven’t watched the show!

One big thing I had to consider about was her moth motif🦋. I redesigned her hair to be more moth like, the type that have eye patterns like the emperor moth! I think it’s super cool but also…Angels and Eyes👁️(I can imagine the eyes react with her main one) Plus Eyes in general have always been a big motif for her. I also made her feet more stubby, to give off how they were changed becoming a sinner. I def wanted to give off her coming off as unintentionally unsettling as moths can be lowkey scary lol, but also show a struggle of hers is being more down to earth and approachable to others.

Made her hair SUPER longer for the patterns but also give off how if makes up a lot of her, moths got big wings. I read sinners forms have a sorta punishment to them and I imagine for Vaggie, her hair can’t be cut. It can but it would grow back to the same length soon. So it’s def been a struggle for her along with her new feet to figure out how to deal with, especially for combat. Also replaced the bow with actual antennae and made her eyebrows have more hair too! At first I was gonna add the bow to show her using it some way to put up her hair but with how big it is and adding antennae I just got rid of it, making those allude to a bow instead 🎀

For my HH Gang, I’m going for a Rainbow Motif(I think we all know why), for Vaggie she’s more Indigo. Blue(color close to Heaven) but also a little mix of Red(Charlie & Hell). Also has a lot of different symbolisms that I think work well for Vaggie!!!!!!! And in her old looks she had a lot of blues(many such as navy blue belong in the indigo territory) that I decided to re-incorporate into her look. She’s the blue to Charlie’s Red❤️💙Also has a dark purplish red to show the uniforms she’s wearing is older but still connect her to the Hotel and Charlie❤️🌈.

Made her skin more purplish. I can imagine….back then it used to be gray or grayish blue but time in Hell added more color💜💜💜💜💜

ANOTHER really big thing was her fashion. For my Vaggie, she’s basically wearing an old Bellhop uniform from the Hotel’s past(moths may have done some damage prior, lol) hence the tatters, she likes it as it shows she’s part of the Hotel and protective enough but also not too stuffy to stop her from being active. I def was leaning into her being the Hotel’s security. She’s also wearing straps for putting her spear away, a hooded shawl, which I was inspired from one of her concept looks with ripped tights and boots. Def kept the long fingerless gloves with some protective wrap!!!!!!!!!

She’s also wearing a golden apple(HUGE motif with Charlie🍎) and also a huge symbol shown a lot through the hotel to show she’s part of it!…also added more hidden ❌ symbols.

I was def leaning towards business/subtle military/action girl for her. Talked about this with @a-sterling-rose that during development, she plays around with her look more, finding her identity more. I also wanted to give off a little mystery with the cloak. Show she’s someone with secrets…like being a former Top Exorcist. I REALLY WANT HER TO GET HER OWN PAIR OF ANGELIC BALLET SHOES FROM CAMILLE!!!!!🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

Gave her bigger lips 👄

Made her X sharper, make it look more wing like. Made her lashes more wing like too🦋

Put more weight & muscle on her💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪 show she’s got muscle and fun fact, moths got stout builds!!!!!!

Also redesigned her staff a bit to look more Eye like and added a wrap for grip(and that it may have been broken in the past).

Gave her a line under her eye, show she’s someone who works herself too hard ant time… and also give off she’s bit on edge about something…

Also I know there’s been discussions about her name, just wanted to say, if I was to change her name, I’d make it Polilla! Spanish for Moth🦋 I like the idea of exorcists being once humans who became Angels! So Vaggie’s def still got her Salvadoran roots! 🇸🇻 I can imagine she HATES when people call her “Polly” for short.

Also done designs for Charlie & Angel🍎🕷️

What do u think? I’d love to know!💖

[sionisjaune]

A short Nico/Jenson ficlet for @penaltyboxboxbox's girlcedes ballet AU... the last image made me insane...

Afterwards, he always asks about Lewis. The sweat on Nico’s back hasn’t even begun to dry, and her knees ache from riding his cock, and her back aches from practice, and he flops on his back, slides one of his disgusting cigs from the crumpled pack on his dresser and asks about her, absently scratching the scruffy hair on his chest. 

“She’s fine,” says Nico. Today, Toto announced that Lewis had made prima after stringing them both along for weeks. Everyone knew he would pick Lewis in the end, just like everyone knew that Lewis really was prima material, even with her tattoos and her piercings and her muscled quads and thick torso. 

Jenson sucks on his cigarette for a moment and then turns his head to the side to exhale in the direction of the window. Nico wishes he would blow smoke in her face, if only so that she could have something to yell at him for. 

“She still remember me?” says Jenson, wrapping his lips around the cigarette for another drag. “Wouldn’t kill her to come around…” 

Nico rolls her eyes and climbs off of Jenson’s lap to hunt around for her panties. Jenson must have tossed them somewhere in his pigsty of a room sometime after he stuck his hand down her jeans. Eventually, she finds them dangling from the bedpost, beside Jenson’s foot. She tugs them on only to discover that they’ve ripped along the seam where elastic meets delicate lace. Monstrous, soul-sucking rage swells in her chest and bursts like a party balloon before it can become anything real. Instead of ripping her own hair out of her head, she locates Jenson’s boxers and lobs them at his face.

“What would you even do?” Nico says. 

“Huh?” says Jenson, lighting another cigarette. He cups his hand around the end to shield the flame from the draught gusting in through the window. 

“If she came around. What would you do?” Nico crosses her arms, but it only serves to draw Jenson’s attention to her tits. When his eyes widen, she swallows and purses her lips to keep the bile down. 

“Dunno,” says Jenson, folding one wiry arm behind his head. “There used to be a band. We were Mick Laren. You, know like the—” 

“I know,” says Nico.

“Then we were Downforce. And then Lewis and the Mechanics.” Jenson chortles. Nico is going to be sick. She scoops one of Jenson’s dirty shirts off the floor—an embarrassing band tee going threadbare at the collar—and pulls it on over her head. She tiptoes back to Jenson’s bed and slides back in beside him because she has nowhere else to go, really. Jenson folds his arm around her and pulls her into his chest. At least he’s good for keeping her warm. Nico slides her leg over his while he puffs on his cigarette.

“Give me that,” Nico snaps. Jenson hands her the cigarette obligingly, and Nico plucks it from his hand with two fingers. It’s too short to hold onto properly, but it feels good on the way down, stinging her throat and curling poisonously inside her lungs. Toto would fucking kill her if he saw. She hands the butt back to Jenson, and he squishes it out on the nightstand.

“You can’t even fucking sing,” Nico sighs. 

“Sure I can,” says Jenson, pinching her in the side. “You wanna hear what I’m working on?”

“No,” says Nico, into his chest. 

“Some girlfriend you are,” says Jenson.

“Not your girlfriend,” says Nico. 

Jenson snorts. “Tell that to the panty collection in my underwear drawer.” 

“They’re probably not even mine,” says Nico. “Slag.” 

Jenson kisses the top of her head and tosses the sheet over her body. She might as well stay the night, now. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 2 AM in forbidding analog digits. Waking up to whatever shit breakfast Jenson cooks up is marginally better than waiting pantless on the street corner for a cab. God only knows where her jeans ended up.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” says Jenson. Nico squeezes her eyes shut tight.

[moa-broke-me]

Most people's first drag show was at a bar. Percy's was a dinner theatre performance of Swan Lake.

He figured he'd go to support his old university's arts program, after all, he couldn't afford to donate as much as his colleagues did every year, and he figured this'd make up for that. Plus, it was his custody weekend, and he always wanted to do something special for his daughter to make these measly two days a month count.

So, he decided he'd kill two birds with one stone, his daughter swinging her feet on the stool she was sat in, eating her macaroni and cheese. "You like it?" He asked.

She nodded. "It's a lot better than the box stuff you make, daddy. Mama Piper makes hers with adacvo, and I'on like adacvo."

He laughed a bit. "Yeah, it's fun eating away from home, isn't it?" He asked, before taking a bite of his ravioli. It was miles ahead of the canned stuff, no offense to Chef Boyardee.

"Mhm! Uncle Jason, can we go get dessert after?"

Ok, so really it was three birds with one stone. Spend time with his daughter, support the art program, and catch up with Jason.

Jason laughed lightly, jostling the baby carrier he had on his chest and causing Leo's baby to stir. "Zora, they're serving dessert here. I'm sure it'll be much better than anything you could get at a fast food place."

"Really? Even subway cookies?"

"Yes, even subway cookies." He turned back to the baby he was sitting, checking that he was ok. The cherubic little boy was almost two, and could walk, so he didn't really need the carrier, but he liked being strapped in tight. "Raph, you good buddy?"

Raphael cooed up at Jason, reaching up to squish his face. "Coo-kie."

Jason laughed. "Aww, man. This kid is adorable." He reached around the carrier to eat his steak. "Thanks for taking us out here. I know it was like, 50 bucks a person. I can wire you back if you want."

"No, no, it's fine. Just enjoy the ballet." Percy looked over, and Odette had just been captured by the wizard, and the transformation sequence was about to begin. He'd watched both the barbie version and the one from 1994 with Zora before, so he knew the plot, but it was so different seeing it on stage. She had been in a simple loose-fitting blue dress, period-appropriately modest but still short enough to move around in. Now though, once the swirling ribbons fell and the colored smoke and glitter dissipated into the air, Odette was in nothing but a white leotard and black ballet shoes, the leotard strapless and embroidered with pearls and feathers and lace and thin black boning. They were all seated in the front, so he could see every detail, every individual feather draped on the underside of her arm, the otherworldly white lashes and pearl in the middle of the forehead, the thin black swirls of eyeliner on her face and sad, swoopy brows and bold black lipstick forming a pout, like an infinitely more attractive version of an old french mime. The white-dyed tips in ink black hair and rich, dark brown eyes and the gentle outward curve of her nose. The freckles on her shoulders and cheeks, dotting her hauntingly beautiful olive-creme skin. the flat chest and narrow, boyish hips...

He looked at the playbill again, to find the name of this incredible being.

There were two names on the bill, one for uncursed Odette, and one for cursed Odette. He skimmed past the first to get to the second.

Nico diAngelo.

He smiled. "Hey, Jason, you took intro to dance right?" I asked, pointing at the name on the bill. "Do you know her?"

"Him. And yeah, we've been friends for years."

"Wait... Him?" He looked back at the stage. "... So that's a guy up there?"

"Yeah."

"... Wow... He's very pretty."

Zora giggled. "Silly daddy, you're s'posed to say handsome for boys! You only say pretty about girls!"

"He's not, though." I told her, lost in thought. "He's... Pretty. The way girls are pretty."

"Huh... So boys can be pretty too?"

"Yes, dear. They absolutely can."

"So... Does that mean girls can be handsome?"

"Oh yeah." Jason answered. "If you want an example, I can pull up a picture of my sister."

"Jason!" Percy scolded.

Jason snorted. "She'd take that as a compliment and you know it."

[alarici]

For Meronia ballet AU, maybe a back stage moment or something? As a prompt I mean (: Love Reading your stuff!!

content: injury, word count: approx 500

It's the middle of dress rehearsal. Near's demi-solo is almost finished. She's collapsed in some soloist man's arms, not a finger out of place, languishing in the scattered applause. Catching her breath for the coda. Mello watchers her from the wings, as she has for seven years and counting. She's still captivated, as is everyone else.

The final chord drifts out of the orchestra pit, and then the string section begins again--and Near is alive, again. Most of the coda is a petite allegro. Small jumps, precise, exhausting. Even if Near's perfect, this is one thing that has never been her specialty. Where Mello's athleticism lends to her explosive jumps, her dynamism; Near's technique is impeccable, but Mello can pick out every moment here Near could jump higher, could move faster, could do more, more, more. Yet it's undeniably good. And Mello is lost in the sight. Near's eternal gentle smile--a delicate interpretation of the role. It fits.

Still riding off of the high of them both being promoted to the corps de ballet--no longer under threat of being a probationary apprentice (dancing every night, dead on their feet, the treat of 'there's only room for one of you here' looming in the spring, than then a revelation: we want you both, don't ruin it), Mello isn't fixated in her anger. They're playing the same part--corps in one cast, soloist in the other. Maybe, for this ballet at least, their opposite interpretations can coexist, and Mello will practice her breathing exercises, and they will keep a tally of who prefers whose version of the part. The ballet mistress likes you. The critic liked me.

The worst is yet to come, someone pulls at her, a prickle in her spine.

Mello bites her lip as the end of the coda draws near. It's a nerve-wracking sequence to perform. Mello's dress rehearsal was earlier that day, and she'd scrapped by with a few, small, inexcusable errors in the exact same routine.

The fantasy of a moment of peace, a truce, an intermission of repose rips ugly four counts before the end of the sequence. Mello hears it and can't look away as Near crumples to the stage, barely catching herself with her arms out in front of her.

Mello's seen multiple bad landings. Jumping is always a gamble with god. A gamble they make hundreds of times every day. Near's misfortune finds her limping, instead of running of the stage, one more act, forty minutes, in the dress rehearsal left to go. In the opposite wing, she looks ready to run back for the mid-show bow.

Mello doesn't think. She runs. The vast area behind the stage narrows to the opposite stage door. Mello sees her, sitting standing on one leg in the corner. It looks bad.

She takes the razor out of its place in her character shoes, wrapped in cardboard and thin cloth, sitting against the knuckle of her big toe--a trinket for luck--and feels Near's ribbons tearing under the blade, Near panting, weak arms protesting at Mello's elbow. It's the only way Mello will know Near won't go and try to dance on a broken foot--you can't dance without your ribbons. It's over.

"You cut me," Near says. A grimace of pain, well hidden. A small prick of blood expands on her white tights from where the ribbons gave.

"You're not going back out there." Mello can't look at her, can only stare at her swollen foot, limp on the ground.

"Now, I'm not." Mello would appreciate some anger. Instead, all she sees is nothing. Grief? Leave it to Near to start caring now, of all times.

-

It'll take Near five year to thank her for it. When they learn that the artistic director would have been happy to see Near ruin herself, her shattered sesamoid, that very night.

[ran-orimoto]

I don't know to whom praying to get something about Chiaki written by you. If you accept commissions in writing I'd run

I don’t accept commissions but you could still give me inspos! It would be a pleasure to me. Still, the good news is that I have already written about Chiaki once, though it’s just a bad introduction of her in MTTCI told by Junpei’s point of view. I don’t know when I will take MTTCI in my hands again, but I think it should happen before Christmas because you all always asking about Chiaki makes it hard to resist to such a temptation.

[ Context of the chapter is Junpei, for some specific reason explained later, has accepted to sing for a spectacle in a ballet academy. Since the dancers are practicing, he has been left outside, on a bench, and he has incredibly (LOL ahahah) been chatting with a rather lively Izumi. This is the end of the chapter and it contains fatphobiac insults, as the random OC I added in here is just an a$$ (like Junpei eh, ahahah. I have no mercy in anyone’s regards in the lame world of MTTCI). ]

[ …]

Despite the utter mess he was making while chatting with Izumi, he couldn’t deny she was still making him feel like he had been taken up to the sky she adored so much, had been walking on dreamy clouds for who knew how long. Now, though, some aggressive noise had accidentally made him let go of Izumi’s grip making sure he wouldn’t fall from such a height.

But he had. He had down into a place as immense as the expanse where he came from yet colder, much colder than that one.

“Nakamura-San!”

She marched out of the frozen room without looking back, decelerating only to bring her fingers behind her head. With a single gesture, an undulating motion of her wrist, she unraveled her low chignon in a cascade of dark chocolate, her long pail neck leaning forward in a liberating reflex.

She totally ignored his presence, just like the one of a skinny young man trotting after her.

“Nakamura-San, wait! We have been fantastic! Today I told myself we could really be the best duo out there. Imagine…Us starring in the most famous theatres in Europe, at New York’s Metropolitan too.”

Oh no, dude, you’re so pathetic, please, In the background of that mushy romantic film he didn’t absolutely want to be an extra of, Junpei found it impossible to grimace. And it’s not only because of those ridiculous tights I thank Heavens I could never wear in my life. She’s not interested, indeed, she detests you. She is repulsed by you. She isn’t even looking at you in the face, man!

Not even impulsively grabbing the girl’s hand to force her to turn helped him in his intent, until…

“Chiaki, listen…!”

At his touch her shoulders had already tensed, but that physical response affected her whole body once she heard what Junpei soon discovered it was her first name.

Dumb move. How can you be so stupid?, Junpei asked himself, slowly opening his bag to find a book into which plunging his disinterest. That was such an ashaming spectacle: he wasn’t going to give his eyes that unfair treatment. They didn’t deserve it. Still, surely, it would be so nice if they acknowledged he was there and they were showing a stranger their mutual lack of respect and tact. If he had worn one of his coveralls, they would have undoubtedly seen him. It would have been flashier than the lame blue salopettes he was wearing on a simple orange sweatshirt.

“It’s Nakamura. Nakamura-San for you, to be precise,” She stared into her interlocutor’s restless orbs, her face stuck in a stern arrangement, a detail Junpei casually grasped while searching for a specific page of his music sheet.

“Su-Sur-“

“And, sorry to tell you,” She insisted, cutting him short, impassive. Junpei’s focus would usually take a while to get used to reading and studying, so it was normal he was keeping on getting distracted, wondering how her eyebrows weren’t minimally curving because of her distress. “We haven’t been fantastic. You were out of step, your arms were feeling like noodles on my hips and you would have also stepped on my foot, if I hadn’t made my leg slip backwards on purpose.“

“T-Then…You have been fantastic…Nakamura-San?”’

Junpei’s thinned irises travelled through the lines of the same stave back and forth, hopping on the scribbles occasionally warping the notes’ circular shapes, dwelling on those more than on what he was supposed to be working on. The environment had grown too taciturn for him to animate that mute paper in his mind, so he got unavoidably led to diverting his intellectual efforts on some other topic, on the trembling muscles of the black-haired lad and the statue in front of him.

A statue ready to flee from her despised pedestal.

“I’m sorry, Kobayashi-San,” She sighed, closing her spheres whose shade was still unknown to Junpei. Incredibly, he perceived a minimal turmoil in those features, maybe just a fruit of his fervid imagination.

He also sensed a pang in his stomach at the sight of the young woman, of that Chiaki, leaving her dance partner there , without adding a clarification to that apologize holding so much else in itself. Junpei couldn’t understand why he had got that hunch, -and he wasn’t interested in finding out the reason behind it, no!-, but he could confess to himself it was hurting, somehow. Cautiously observing the profile of the dejected ballet dancer, the tremors of his lips, the abandoned dangling of his limbs next to his hips was having a certain effect on him.

But ,again, he didn’t know why.

He didn’t…

The young man stood in that same spot for a whole minute, losing his dismay in the undefined shadows projected in the near corridor. Then, he found the strength to forge steel fists of frustration and viciously send a glare to the uninvited spectator. That was a decision Junpei should have expected at some point, but he had foolishly grown convinced he had become invisible. Thus, he had lowered his guard and consequently had- he had to admit it, regrettably-, minded about someone else’s business, someone else’s disgrace.

“What are you looking at, eh? Tell me. Don’t you have anything else to do, fatso?”

“Hey,” So, they were starting like that, weren’t they? It was typical. “Since I’m a fatso, you should have noticed I was here. Don’t I occupy this entire bench?” In spite of the heat the young man’s comment had generated in his throat, he wasn’t going to yell in a refined ballet academy, but that didn’t mean he would allow him to disrespect him. “Joke’s on you, man, if you have decided to talk about private matters here.”

“Whatever you say,” The young man replied, displaying his interior weakness once more. Judging from that little he had managed to analyze in the previous confrontation with the girl, he could state he was a spineless and submissive kind of dude. The only thing he could do was to look down on others, as if he had the right to do so. Probably, in his life he had met people giving him the freedom to act in such a superb way, but in that case he could do that just because Junpei was sitting and he was standing. “Looking at you, I wonder how much you have eaten to become so fat.“

“Excuse me…?” Even if he had muttered that question while concealing his shame under his bangs, those words stained with poison had still been spat on Junpei’s appalled face.

“Yes, in the photos on Facebook you look so different. And thinner. What has happened to you?”

It happened that I’m not the same person, easy, He reminded himself, painfully clenching his jaw as a photo of a slightly older opera student materialized in his memories: sliced back hair just like his yet much darker, cocky grin challenging the camera and flash, a stately poise, a handsome, an exceptionally handsome raising star of the lyrical singing panorama.

“Uhm…It’s a bit hard to explain,” The commotion in his tone had faded, his fiery spirit had been tamed by an imposing energy. And he hated that.

“I don’t care ,don’t worry. I’m just laughing at the fact the girls were so excited about this beautiful tenor who was supposed to come. Oh well, better for me. Now that Chiaki is mad at me, I still can try with Kikuchi-San. She is the third girl in the second row, can you see her? She is not as curvy as Chiaki, but-“

“Kobayashi dude, whatever you’re called, now I’m the one telling you I don’t care, man,” He snapped at him, but still turned. He did not because he was curious about who this girl was, what he looked like: when he said he didn’t care, he was serious about it since there only was a girl on Earth mattering to him. He did because Fate had decided that morning would be troublesome to him and had to keep on being such until the end, until he would escape from that chicken coop.

If he had to be honest with himself, however, that definition didn’t really feel that fitting once he found himself surrounded by minuscule shimmers directly pointed at him, on his lumbering silhouette. He was feeling more like if he had become the visitor of an aquarium being contemplated by a shoal of fish that had gathered and attached their mouths to the glass, their thoughts incomprehensible to the human on the opposite side.

Yet, Junpei had experienced the same emotion even without a glass in the middle of his life, even a second after he had put foot in there, had bowed before a displeased audience, had continued smiling despite anything.

Despite being aware he wasn’t the one everyone had been waiting for.

I’m so sick of this place, Izumi-Chan. For real.

[theseasicksailorblog]

Indie Sleaze: 5 item shopping list

My non-negotiable 5 clothing items to live your indie sleaze truth, written as 2000s/2010s fashion historian.

Ballet Flats

Worn by school-teachers and it girls alike, ballet flats have always been a staple in fashion history, especially in the late 2000s and 2010s. For a first time wearer a simple black flat is a safe bet as it can be paired with anything, but if you want to sleaze it up, opt for a metallic or glitter variation. Something to note about indie sleaze fashion is that the more extra it feels, the better it looks, so don't hold back on cool, funky, flats. These can be found in thrift stores, department stores, and all over Amazon.

Metallic Fabric

Since the dawn of rave/party culture, glamorous lamé fabrics have used for just about every article of clothing possible. Cheaper spandex alternatives rose to popularity as The Cobra Snake era partying merged into mainstream. Shiny red leggings paired with a black cropped tank was peak casual 2010s sleaze attire. A great place to find styles like this is Los Angeles Apparel aka American Apparels re-brand. Though they no longer sell the fun colored disco pants and shorts, the lamé collection offers a variety of shiny colorful items with that trustworthy AA quality. Other places to look are party supply stores, poshmark/depop/ebay, rave shops, and of course Amazon.

Ultra Feminine Dresses

One of the most underrated pioneers of indie sleaze fashion is model and t.v. personality Alexa Chung. While Alexa is often grouped with the Twee (shopping list coming soon) and hipster aesthetics of the 2010s her ability to blend soft girlish dresses with last nights makeup allows for an uber sleazy effect. Mini shifts, polka dotted a-lines, and vintage baby-dolls all work as long as you pair them with unkempt hair and grungy tights to keep the edge, bonus points if your dress has a peter pan collar or your tights have rips. You can find these practically anywhere but start at your local thrift store as they usually have large selections of outdated dresses that were popular during this time period. Alternatively look at department stores, vintage/antique markets, and you guessed it Amazon.

Ringer Tee's and Shorts

Before athleisure was an over-saturated mess of "flare leggings" and Lululemon we took inspiration from student athletes everywhere with the iconic ringer tee's and ringer shorts. Getting their name from the contrasting ring of fabric outlining the seams of the article, ringer style pieces were seen everywhere and worn with everything. Both such versatile basics that could be kept casual or dressed up that you might see a ringer tee with a skirt, or ringer shorts with stockings and a blouse. Los Angeles Apparel has great options for both the shirts and the shorts, places like Walmart and Target often carry ringer shorts, and Forever 21 with great ringer tees, and as always Amazon.

Stockings/Tights

It doesn't matter if they're black, white, multicolored, fish-netted, or opaque, stockings always find a way to elevate a basic look and is often what takes an outfit from mainstream to indie sleaze. Don't worry about buying a super nice quality pair as stockings look best with ripping seams and enormous holes. But don't tear them with a fork like those tiktok girls did in 2020, it screams try hard as a real indie sleaze girl would rip them via dancing, curb sitting, and drunken stumbling. Just like the dresses, you can find tights anywhere. However I don't recommend secondhand as they are technically an undergarment and it's hard to ensure the level of cleanliness.

Spacehey saw it first https://spacehey.com/theseasicksailor

[artzychic27]

Omigod, the Carrie Prom scene but it's Marinette and Kim pulling a prank on Marc after the Akuma Class (sans Nathaniel) organizes a rigged vote for Anciel as Prom King. Marc loses it and happens to get akumatized and uses his psychic powers for revenge.

Marinette: Look at how he's smiling now, that stupid little cow.

Well the real fun has not started yet!

Kim: I've had up to here with all your demands!

You’ve left us all with blood on our hands!

Now, I realize you’ve got a bone to pick!

This was never a joke, this trick is pretty damn sick!

Marinette: I've got one last little beat

And then my plan's complete

For a night that he'll never forget

Givin’ it. Givin’ it.

*Lila is walking through the ballroom when she notices Nino looking guilty while swapping the ballots*

Lila: Nino, what are you doing?

Nino: Uh, Lila! Hi! I didn't expect to see you here tonight!… Nice dress.

Lila: What are you up to?

Nino: Nothing!

Lila: What's going on?!

*Before Nino can say anything, Alya is already dragging him onto the dance floor*

Alya: Stick around, Lila. It's gonna be the best prom night ever.

Givin’ it. Givin’ it

Oooh

So we're closer, closer, slower, closer!

Nino: Mme. Bustier, I've collected all the ballets! Here you go! *Hands her the ballots*

Mme. Bustier: Why, thank you, Nino! This is all so exciting, isn’t it?!

*Lila continues to glare daggers at Nino before moving to see where her classmates are. She approaches Max, who’s texting, and snatches his phone*

Max: Hey!

Lila: ‘Is everything set?’ I do hope you’re not planning anything awful, Max. Oh, and with a cryptic group chat that has… Twelve people.

Max: I-it’s nothing! *Snatches his phone back*

Lila: … If Marinette’s planning something, and you’re all in on it, so fucking help me-

Ooh, feel the heat

You and me and me and you!

It looks as if we're gonna make it!

Marinette: I believe in getting even

That's what I believe (You know how to terrify me with the way that you think)

Marc: Finally, (You ain't seen nothin' yet, you ain't seen nothin' yet)

Finally, (You ain't seen nothin' yet, you ain't seen nothin' yet)

This is great

We're getting there but not quite

We're not quite there

A night we'll never forget

This is great

So grab your date and hold tight, hold tight (Hold tight!)

This is great

The night's about to take flight, take flight

A night we'll never!

No, never!

We'll never forget!

*M. Monlataing and Mme. Mendeleiev are up on stage with a mic*

M. Monlataing: Attention students! We give you this year's king and queen of the Prom...

*Everyone's attention turns to them except for Marc and Nathaniel who are too distracted by each other to even care. M. Monlataing opens the envelope*

M. Monlataing/Mme. Mendeleiev: Reshma Leghari and Marc Anciel!

Reshma: OH, GODS! I WON! *Grabs Lacey and kisses her before running up on stage*

Lacey: … Oh, my God. I’m totally Bi.

*Marc, upon hearing his name, turns to the stage, shocked then looks back at Nathaniel, who encourages him up onto the stage. He runs up and joins Reshma*

Students: Hail Alma Mater

Oh, mother we salute you!

*Mme. Mendeleiev hands Reshma her flowers and she smiles at Marc, who smiles back*

We proclaim our devotion!

And we set our dreams into motions!

Ooh...

*Lila smiles proudly at her friend, but then her attention is caught by a movement overhead. She looks up to see a rope leading to a bucket placed precariously on a beam right over Marc*

Lila: Oh my God! *Desperate for help, she finds Mme. Mendeleiev and pulls her away from the coronation ceremony* Mme. Mendeleiev!

Mme. Mendeleiev: Lila? What’s wrong?

Lila: Please, listen! Something terrible’s about to happen!

Mme. Mendeleiev: Lila, if you’re trying to ruin this for Marc-

Lila: No! I swear! You’ve got it all wrong! It’s not me-

*Nathaniel walks over to them*

Nathaniel: Lila, what’s going on?

Mme. Mendeleiev: I knew better than to trust any of them- I warned you two! Get out! *She pushes them out the door...*

Lila: NO! *She pounds on the door but to no avail, helpless to stop Marc’s oncoming humiliation* OPEN THIS DOOR!!

Nathaniel: Lila! What the hell?!

Lila: Nath, I saw Nino swapping the ballots, I-I think Max was texting the class, and there’s a bucket over Marc!

Nathaniel: What?!

Lila: Marinette is behind this! I know it!

All our heart's beat true

Alma Mater!

Marinette: Kim, pull the damn cord! PULL IT!

*Kim hesitates, so Marinette yanks the rope for him, and the pail tilts, pouring the red paint down all over Marc, some splatters on Reshma*

Everyone: …

Aurore: Oh. My. God.

Jean: IS THAT BLOOD?!

*Some students begin screaming, while the rest of them are laughing Marc, meanwhile, is shocked into stillness*

Reshma: *She faces the audience, pissed*WHAT THE HELL?!

*With all of the commotion, no one notices the Akuma fusing with Marc’s sash*

Marc: *He brings his hands to his face, and sees the paint on them. His expression becomes terrified* Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! *He grips his paint-soaked hair as Shadow Moth speaks to him. His expression changes from horrified, to furious*

I will not cry

I’m okay

I tried so hard

To play their way

Stop it. They’re all lies!

Since she was born, my life has been a living hell!

(A living hell!)

His name is Nathaniel Kurtzberg, mom.

He’ll have me home by midnight!

An eagle’s just another bird!

Until he can spread his wings!

Open your heart!

Let the power in!

Marc: They’ll make fun of you!

They will break your heart!

Then they’ll laugh at you (Malice)

Watching you fall apart! (Anciel)

*Marc covers his ears as he hallucinates the students and teachers all pointing and laughing at him*

Marc: DOESN’T ANYBODY EVER GET IT RIGHT?!

DOESN’T ANYBODY THINK THAT I HEAR?!

*Marc’s face turns blank, yet there’s still an enraged look in his eyes. As the black and purple mist encase him, every exit door slams shut, and the lights flicker on and off until the bulbs blow out. Glass from the bulbs rain down, injuring a few students. Everyone rushes to the main entrance to try and open the doors, but they suddenly stop, turn back to face Marc in his Akuma form, and drop to their knees*

Malice: PAYBACK FOR YOUR SINNING’S!

*He points to every one of them with his scythe*

JUST BEGINNING!

BEG FOR YOUR SALVATION

FROM DAMNATION!

BEG OR

*His powers take control of the speakers, and he belts out a scream that deafens half of the room*

HE WILL BURN YOU!

HE WILL BURN YOU!

*Malice strikes the floor with the end of the scythe, electricity spreads around the gym, causing the lights to short-circuit and catch on fire next to some decorations. The fire quickly spreads around the room. Students scream and scramble around trying to escape. Alya, Nino and a few other kids start running for the doors, but Malice notices this attempt. He reaches out his hand and squeezes his fist and many of the students are thrown forward against the walls, hard enough to leave cracks. Louis grabs a chair and tries to take Malice out but he grabs the chair with his powers and bashes it against his head, cracking his skull open. Rose and Juleka try to run, but fall to floor and die in mere seconds as students trample over them. Malice looks up at the sprinkler system and dents the pipes until they break, making water rain down on the floor, then he pulls wires from the stage. Only a few people realizes his plan and get on top of tables before Malice throws the wires onto the wet floor, electrocuting Adrien, Ivan and many others. He turns to see Kim and Marinette attempting to escape*

Marinette: TIKKI! SPOTS-!

*Malice keeps them frozen in place, looks them dead in the eyes, raises his scythe, and slashes Marinette right across the chest. For Kim, he has some wires wrap around his neck, tighter and tighter until he fall to the floor the same time as Marinette. The fire spreads around him as students wail and eventually die. Malice stretches out his arms, and the door flings open. He slowly walks out, walking through the electrified water and not being harmed. He slowly walks out as if in a trance, not even paying any mind to the looks of horror across Nathaniel and Lila’s faces. Once he’s a few feet away, the entire building explodes into flames, and he walks away*

[jelzorz]

172.

ft. @raayllum's sorpeli twins

Briella is the one who likes to dance. Brynn prefers music, but they are both, otherwise, a bit too obsessed with their craft than fifteen year old twins ought to be. Brynn wants more advanced tuition, El wants something more focussed on technique, and it's admirable for certain, but even Opeli thinks it's a bit much, even if she was the same a very long time ago.

It doesn't matter. The Katolis School of Arts is prestigious. It's where kids go to make careers out of dance and music and art, and her kids deserve nothing less than the best. They worked hard for the opportunities to audition here this week, and Opeli isn't going to stop them just because she's a little uncomfortable. And of course, they don't know this. Nobody knows this, and there's no evidence here that she knows of to even hint at her long forgotten past so it's fine, really, in spite of the way her shoulders are tense and her jaw is clenched and Brynn is looking at her with narrowed eyes like they know something might be wrong.

"You know she'll be fine," they point out. They shoot a look at the theatre doors, still closed for this afternoon's auditions, and Opeli nearly sighs in relief because it means Brynn is assuming she's just nervous for their sister.

"Yes, I know," says Opeli evenly. Too evenly. She forces her shoulders to drop but they're no less tight than they were before. "You both just want to be here so badly—"

"Yeah, and we know what that means," they point out. "You're, like, more nervous than we are about this. What the heck is the problem?"

Opeli gives her child a look and forces herself to slump in the chair a little more. "Nothing," she says with a huff. "I just want the best for you both. Is that really such a crime for a mother?"

Brynn only rolls their eyes, but that little twitch of their lips soothes Opeli more than anything else. Admission or no, at least her children know they are loved and that she's proud, which is all that should matter, really. Brynn turns back to their sheet music, satisfied for now, and Opeli goes back to pretending the polish of the walls and the deep pile carpet beneath her heels don't make her whole body want to whither away.

Her own days here were so long ago. They did not result in the glamour she had hoped. Her career was not as long lived as she wanted, and here she is again, back in these halls once more. What would her children say if they knew?

She doesn't want to know. She hopes they never find out.

The theatre door swings open, and Opeli glances up too quickly, hoping it might be El with good news, hoping they can go now—

But it's just one of the instructors, clipboard in hand, sandy blond hair pushed to one side, blue eyes bright under the orange glow of the downlights. He glanced at them and pauses in midstep with the grace only another dancer could have and grins. "You guys waiting for someone?"

"Oh," says Opeli. "Yes, actually. My daughter's in there auditioning."

"Ah," says the instructor. He glances at his clipboard curiously and then studies Opeli's face. Her cheeks warm under his stare and, mortified, she ducks her head. "Briella?"

Opeli twitches her lips. "The family resemblance is that obvious, is it?"

"Well, yeah. And your other—uh—"

"Kid," provides Brynn helpfully without looking up from their sheet music.

"Kid," continues the instructor with a chuckle, "kinda made it obvious. I'm Soren," he adds. "I teach ballroom here so I wasn't judging the ballet auditions, but I will say your daughter's very talented."

"We like to think so," says Opeli, smiling gratefully at him. "When can we expect her to come out?"

Soren glances at the clock on the foyer wall. "Not too much longer, I don't think," he says. "Give it like ten to fifteen. There are only a handful of auditions left." He pauses for a moment, brow knitting together in thought. "You seem familiar."

Opeli's face heats again, this time in panic. "You did just watch my daughter's audition," she says levelly.

"Yeah, but..." He hums. "I dunno, just feels like I've seen you somewhere before."

"I doubt that," says Opeli, almost too quickly. It's fine, she tries to promise herself. How can he possibly know? "I'm sure I'd remember if I'd met you before."

Soren chuckles at that, eyes twinkling, lips quirking upward in a dashing little smile. "I mean, I am pretty memorable," he says with a wink.

Behind her, Brynn makes a noise of disgust.

Soren looks to them, his grin widening. "Don't be like that," he chides. "I can't help that your mom's pretty."

Brynn gags so comically that Opeli laughs, even as red and as mortified as she is. Soren only rolls his eyes and offers his hand out to shake. "Nice to meet you, Mrs... um—"

"Ms," Opeli corrects, "and Opeli is fine."

"Lovely to meet you Opeli," says Soren, inclining his head in a show of gentlemanly respect. "I'll see you around, I expect?"

"Yes, hopefully," says Opeli. "Provided all goes well."

"Got my fingers crossed for all three of you." He holds his hands up, fingers crossed in pairs on both of them, and then offers a mock salute as he takes his leave.

Opeli watches him, trying not to think of the way his eyes had searched her face and the way his trousers hug his hips as he walks away, and when she turns, Brynn is staring at her, mouth open, aghast.

A pause stretches between them. Opeli doesn't know what to say.

The theatre doors swing open and Briella steps into the foyer, grinning from ear to ear. She all but skips to her mother and sibling before she pauses and looks between them. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all, my love," says Opeli quickly, shaking off the stupor."How'd it go?"

"Good!" says El brightly. "I think so, anyway. Results will be posted out to us in a couple of days. Are you okay, Mom? You look a little flushed."

Brynn shakes their head. "You don't even want to know."

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

BALLERINA - Chapter Four.

A Jake Kiszka AU

Physiotherapist!Jake x Original Female Character

Previous Chapter

A/N: This is chapter four of the story about ballet dancer Iris and physiotherapist Jake. This is quite short, but I promise you, the next one is longer. Next part will be out on Friday. Consider this a little sweet present to cheer you up and help you get through tomorrow. I hate Mondays. Again, this is a slowburn, but I promise, it will be worth the wait.

P.S. The wait is almost over.

Please, feel free to let me know what you think about this!

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings for this chapter: 18+ ONLY for brief mentions of masturbation and oral sex, talking of physical rehabilitation and medical stuff (I am not an expert, I apologise for any inaccuracies), poor mental health, fluff, verysoft!Jake.

If you are interested, you can join my taglist here.

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The week proceeded well and on Friday, the doctor who had operated on Iris, Dr. Allen, came into her room to talk to her and check her leg.

He told her he was very happy with the work she had been doing with Jake and that he was positive that after three more weeks she would be dismissed from the hospital.

Iris was both happy and sad.

She was so happy to finally go back home but, at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to think about what her yet so miserable life would become when she won't be able to see Jake anymore everyday, for the usual rehabilitation sessions.

She had gotten to the point where she needed him like air. She even dreamt about him at night, when she could sleep and she wasn't plagued by nightmares.

One night she had jolted awake from her sleep thinking he was in the room with her. His presence in the dream had been so overwhelmingly real that she felt the touch of his hands on her body and she felt like crying frustrated tears when she discovered she was alone.

The only thing that allowed her to find a bit of relief was slipping her trembling hand in her panties underneath the covers and finish what he had so skillfully started in her dream with his warm tongue and callous fingers.

She was ashamed of herself at the beginning, but at that point, she honestly didn't care anymore.

Every time he came into her room it was becoming more and more difficult for Iris to suppress and ignore the dull throbbing ache between her legs.

On Monday morning he arrived and she told him rather sadly that she would be dismissed in three weeks time.

"Why are you wearing such a pout, Iris? Aren't you happy to finally go home?" He asked her, curiously.

"Well, yes" she replied and then confessed to him "but I am sad because I won't see you anymore."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression and then bursted out laughing.

She didn't understand what was happening. Her confused expression made him laugh even harder.

After he caught his breath he told her, still snickering "Oh my God, darling, I am absolutely not abandoning you like that."

And then he grabbed her hand.

"When you will be at home, we are going to continue with rehabilitation with the same schedule we kept here. That means that you are stuck with me everyday for at least three more months. And when we are done with ordinary rehabilitation we can start something more specific, like trying to get you back to dancing, how does it sound?" He said all of that while smiling proudly.

Iris was mesmerized by his words.

Their meaning was slowly sinking in and she felt hot tears start to form in her eyes.

She didn't think she could be this happy again.

Iris didn't know what to say so she threw her caution to the wind, grabbed his shoulders and hugged him as tight as she could from the bed.

He didn't expect this and neither did she. His back muscles felt so strong but soft at the same time under her touch.

He returned the hug just as tightly as hers, pressing her even more against his chest. Her face rested in the crook of his neck and so did his in the crook of hers.

It was almost too much for her sanity.

His hair was so soft on her cheek and smelled wonderfully like vanilla shampoo. She inhaled deeply like he was her own personal drug.

Iris wanted to overdose on him.

Then, she felt him shift so he could speak right in her ear.

"You won't get rid of me so easily, darling, you have my word." He whispered, his hot breath on her skin making her head feel dizzy.

She shivered at the feeling of his lips so near to her skin and he noticed.

She saw the little smirk on his lips when the hug broke and she had to look away.

That only made his smirk deepen.

He spoke again, his voice, deep and raspy, intruding Iris's thoughts like never before.

"So, I think it's time to help you put some clothes on. I've had many complaints from some of my patients on your same floor about a girl walking around in just a shirt. And, since among my patients you are the only one under sixty years old, I assumed that you are the girl they are talking about." He said that in such a serious tone that he almost made her believe in what he was saying.

Seeing her confused expression, he clarified with a toothy grin.

"I am messing with you, I didn't have any complaints" he laughed and, finally, she did the same.

"But I thought that you might want me to help you to figure out how you can put some pants on when you are cold without hurting your healing leg." He said sincerely.

She had to admit she had thought about asking him to help her do exactly that but, of course, he beat her to it.

He showed her how to do that, using a pair of joggers of his that he kindly lent her. He insisted on her keeping them even though she had her own clothes and she finally gave in, blushing deeply and caressing the soft black fabric of his joggers with her sweaty fingers.

His hands never left her body, steading her constantly when she needed him.

"So you told me that I am your youngest patient here, really?" Iris asked him curiously after a while, when they had finished and she was in her bed again, the skin of her legs warming up thanks to his joggers.

"Yes, you are and you are even the least handsy one." He said, laughing, a bit embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" She asked and he laughed, again.

"I mean that among my patients, well, my female patients, I have some crazy admirers. Last year, there was a lady in her nineties who needed rehabilitation because she had broken her femur. And every time I helped her stand, she would inexplicably grab my ass, and not even that subtly. She wasn't only touching, she was genuinely groping me. Every time, when I asked her not to do that, she kept telling me that she had done that because she had to steady herself or she would fall down" He told her sheepishly, a light blush covering his cheeks.

She couldn't believe what he was saying and she couldn't stop laughing but, in all honesty, she couldn't blame the lady, at all.

"And I am not finished. Once she also tried to sneak her hands to my front. Her husband was so jealous that once he pulled me aside and told me to stop hitting on his wife or he would hit me." He finished his sentence with a wide contagious smile.

"Oh my God, you have even gotten a real threat." She told him, still laughing.

"I do a very dangerous job" he told her with a wink.

Her eyes landed on his forearm and she noticed again the scars he had there.

"These scars on your forearm were caused by one of your patients?" She asked him, laughing.

"No, that is an injury caused by my very own little brother who thought that jumping off the roof when I was on the porch was a good idea. He didn't even have a scratch on him after, because he landed directly on me and on my arm. And this is what I got" he said, smiling despite the painful memory.

"Well, now every time you look at them you are reminded of your little brother" she told him.

"Have you got brothers or sisters?" He asked her, curiously.

"I have got a younger sister, she is studying in Paris now. We are very close. Sometimes when I can't sleep I call her and we talk until one of us falls asleep. But she has exams now and I don't want to bother her" she told him and he listened, attentively.

At that moment, he reached for his back pocket, fumbled with his phone and handed it to her with a new contact page open.

"If it's ok with you, we can exchange numbers so when you can't sleep you can call me instead of tossing and turning around uselessly. I mean it, Iris" he said, his eyes were so brown, sweet and honest that she wanted to cry.

Iris tried to tell him that she didn't want to bother him but he quickly dismissed her excuses. "You won't bother me, I am here almost every night till late, so don't worry. Before being your physiotherapist, I am your friend and friends always help each other." He was serious.

She blushed, but she did as he asked and thanked him.

After the usual rehabilitation he left her.

In the evening, she received a message from a new contact.

Unknown:

Are you running around half naked again? I am hearing some commotion from your floor. ;) J.

She laughed alone in her room and then answered him.

Iris:

No, it's not me. I am completely tucked under the blanket you sent me the other day (I have never thanked you properly. Thank you!) Are you sure the commotion is not caused by your ninety-year-old grabby friend? ;)

She quickly saved his number and got a reply almost immediately.

J:

I am happy you like the blanket. And thank God the lady is at home now.

Iris:

I love it. Thank you again.

J:

Goodnight Iris. Sleep well. See you tomorrow.

_____________________________________

She smiled stupidly at the screen and slept peacefully for the first time in weeks, thinking about his sweet calm brown eyes glimmering in the soft morning light.

Next chapter

Taglist: @why-ami-on-here @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @jessicafg03 @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @doodle417

[alwaysdjarin]

Unholy

a Dave York x f!reader Series

Part 3 - Spencer

RATING: Explicit 18+ ONLY. No Minors Please. My work is 18+.

Warnings: Dave York always comes with his own warning, soft!Dave, strip clubs, mentions of cancer (readers mum), infidelity, sugar daddy Dave???, a little bit of angst & hurt/comfort (please tell me if I forgot something)

Words: ~2.3k

A/N: ok here we go again. :-D Have fun and tell me what you think about these two.

previous part / Series masterlist || series taglist

You can’t see him when you’re on stage. The headlights blind you, so you’re not able to see more than the guys who are standing directly in front of the stage. You recognize some regulars and a small group of friends, probably a bachelor party.

But you can feel his eyes on your body, dark brown orbs that observe you and it almost burns on your skin.

You try to get the thoughts of the mysterious man waiting for you on the bar out of your head and focus on your work instead.

Wearing a black leather bra and thong with a lot of silver buckles, overknee heels and cute little cat ears, you’re everyone’s dream tonight. Your makeup is strong with a lot of black around your eyes and perfect for the show. A show that’s exactly what this is for you. Eye candy for the men, money for you. And so you start to overthink why you have been so stupid to agree to go for a drink with the stranger. He probably saw you dancing a few times and is blinded by your appearance on stage and will quickly get bored of your real personality. It’s always like that.

Stop overthinking!

You’re dancing for at least an hour, showing some acrobatic moves on the pole or move to the edge of the stage to satisfy the patrons who can’t wait to stick some money into your pants.

When the show is over, you disappear behind the stage, freshen up as best as you can and remove the makeup from around your eyes. You change back into your leggings and oversized shirt and let your hair open.

2 hours later

You find yourself sitting at ‘Stacey’s’ - a cute little Diner a few blocks away from your apartment. Dave York, the handsome stranger across from you.

He seems to be a very nice guy, the kind of men who opens the door for you, who holds your hand to help you out of his (very impressive) black Audi, the kind of men you’ve never met before if you’re honest.

The conversation between you two flows easily, Dave is very interested in you. And so it comes that you tell him about your life. That you wanted to be a professional dancer, having your own dance school. But life isn’t always easy and after your mom died because of cancer and your dad’s living in an other state, you took the best job you could get to pay your bills. That’s how you ended up in the strip club and never took the chance to fulfill your dreams.

“But it’s not that bad. I like my job, really.” You feel his dark brown eyes study you, brows high.

“Yeah, I believe you. I mean there’s nothing bad about your job. I didn’t want to offend you. I was just curious.”

Dave could see the shining in your eyes, when you talked about your dream of an own dancing school. He imagines you teaching his little girls ballet, the perfect curves of your body in a tight leggings, sweat running down your clavicle. No poor guys who stare at your almost naked body on the stage of a strip club. No, you would be protected from the greedy stares surrounded by children who adore you. He would be the only one to worship your body, the only one who lays his eyes on you.

The clearing of your throat pulls him out of his thoughts, you obviously caught him staring. “And you? What do you do for a living?”

Dave thinks about his answer for a moment. This is the part of the conversation where he always lies. But he can’t lie to you. His jaw clenches. Fuck, why can he not lie to you?

“I’m on business trips often…carry out orders for different clients. I have a team with me, three men.” He tries to explain without revealing too much.

“So you’re a freelancer!?” You assume.

“Kind of…” He replies.

You like Dave. You don’t know why, but something on him is addictive. It's easy to notice that he's always hiding something. That he's trying to be honest and open, but something is stopping him. You’ve studied his features the last hours, the little pout when he’s listening to something you’re telling him, the tickling of his jaw when he’s thinking and apparently not sure how to respond, the frown on his face when you say something he doesn’t like to hear, like stories about disrespectful customers, men who doesn’t know their limits.

He’s gorgeous you think to yourself. But then your eyes flicker to his hands and you’re seeing the golden ring. You’ve eyed the glimmering piece the whole night and it reminds you painfully that Dave York is just as all the other men you get to know in your line of work.

You’re gulping, not longer able to ignore the obvious. “So Dave, does your wife know that you’re here? With me?” it blurts out of you and you notice directly that this question caught him off guard.

His eyes shoot to his wedding band and then he smirks. He’s really smirking at you after you mentioned his wife? He looks at your lips and you feel something in the air between you two change.

“She’s out of town for the weekend.” His voice is low and thick and you know directly in which direction this part of the night should go, when you give him what he wants.

You can’t hide the disappointment in your face, when you realize that he’s in fact just like every other guy and you wasted your time tonight.

“Okay listen…” you speak while you rummage through your bag for your wallet “I like you, I REALLY do. And it’s okay, you’re not the first married man who wants to spend a night with me-“ Dave opens his mouth, visibly shocked by your presumption, but you hold your hand up to stop him. “-but I’m not…I’m NOT doing this kind of shit.” You shake your head and dare to look into his eyes. He frowns, trying to understand what you think of him. You go on “I trust you, so…if you want to, you can come to the club anytime you want and I’ll give you a private dance. It’s ok for me. Just let’s keep this…relationship on a business level. ” You lay cash for your food and drinks on the table and stand up. “I…I have to go. Have a good night Dave.” You smile politely at him, tears lining your eyes, unable to cover the disappointment. And then you rush out of the Diner, before the first tear runs down your face.

Dave is behind you within seconds, calling your name. You close your eyes before you slowly turn to face him.

He studies your broken expression and swears this sight breaks something deep in his chest. He should have known what you assume about him, spending his Friday night with you, a girl he met at a strip club and wearing his fucking wedding ring the whole time. But it’s more than this, he knows that and he is aware that he only has one chance to make this clear to you here and now.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly while you wipe the tears from your cheeks and it takes everything in him not to touch you.

You nod. “It’s okay Dave, really. I should know by now that men always-“ But he interrupts you this time.

“No! Not that!” He wipes his hand across his face, scratching at his chin. “I’m sorry that I made you think that I just want to have sex with you. I’m sorry that I didn’t make my intentions clear. And most of all I’m sorry that I made you cry.”

You frown. “Your intentions? You’re a married man in a strip club who’s having a date with one of the dancers.”

He smirks to lighten up the mood between you two. “This was a date?” And you nod, slightly annoyed. “For me…yes.”

Dave takes a step closer to you, his body now inches away. You can smell him and it’s like a drug that flows through your whole body, eats you up from the inside. You close your eyes to not to look into his brown orbs, you can feel him looking at you, his breath hits your face and his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Let me take you on a real date.” He whispers and you tremble slightly while you bite your lower lip. “Let me show you that I’m not like the others. Let me give you what you deserve. Let me take care of you.” You can barely hear his words, but they’re there.

His hand is now lying on the side of your face, your eyes still closed while his other hand finds the other side of your face. “I’m not a homewrecker Dave.” Your voice is small, trembling.

Daves nose touches yours and you suck in a breath. The tension between you two is unbearable and you feel like you’re floating.

“I know you’re not. You’re too good for me sweetheart.” The grip on your head tightens and you know what follows. You feel his plush lips featherlight against yours. “Tell me to stop and you’ll never see me again.” His whisper into your mouth makes you weak and you finally give in.

Dave lips are soft against yours and you’re not sure if anyone ever kissed you like this. It’s slow and sensual. He gives you time to let go and relax into him. You’re still not touching him, hands by your sides formed into fists.

Dave breaks the kiss and you look into his eyes. He decides to give you time, you’re more sensible than he thought and he doesn’t want to scare you off. “Let’s get you home sweetheart.”

~*~*~*~*~

The drive to your home is short and silent. Dave opens the door to help you out of his car and escorts you to your front door.

“I know it sounds unconventional but I mean what I said. Let me take care of you, let me show you what your worth is. Maybe I can help you to fulfill your dream, dancing queen.”

Your body feels like you’re on fire. God you want him. Dave York has you in a chokehold and you want to know more about him, want to find out what his little secrets are, hell you even want to fuck him.

You hesitate for a second. “But your wife…I…I…”

He makes a step in your direction, enters your private space like it’s nothing and you’re lost. Your back hits your door while his hand is on your head again, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t worry about my wife.” A kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry about anything sweetheart.” Another kiss. “You even don’t need to sleep with me.” Kiss. “God, I just want to see you happy.” Kiss.

You tilt your head up to look into his eyes. “…like a sugar daddy thing?” You frown. You’ve heard about the concept a few times but never considered this kind of relationship for yourself.

Dave smirks again and you appreciate the little crinkles around his eyes. “Call it whatever you want.” His thumb is still caressing your face. “Just let me into your life and we will see. We will figure it out.”

You nod. “Okay then. I’ll think about it.”

The intimate moment between you two is interrupted, when you both hear a rumble in your apartment. Dave lays his arm protective around your waist and pulls you away from the door in one smooth movement. You appreciate his reaction, but shake your head laughing.

“I think I have to introduce you to someone.”

Dave frowns when you open the door and something rushes towards him. It takes him a second to realize what’s happening, but then he’s head over heels. There’s a chubby white-brown bulldog wiggling between his legs, happy to see Dave like he knows him for years. Dave goes down on one knee to greet the dog, he loves bulldogs since he was a kid and now YOU - you of all people - have one. Carol never wanted to have a dog.

“It seems like Spencer loves you!” You smile down at the two and your heart swells at the view. Dave York cuddling your dog with a honest smile on his face.

“I…god I love bulldogs.” Dave stands up and smiles at you.

“Seems like we have something in common.” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, not sure what the next step will be.

But Dave knows exactly what to do. He looks you deep in the eyes, the invisible connection between you two is back again and his deep baritone lets a shiver run down your spine.

“Okay sweetheart, you need to rest now. Take your time to think about the things I offered you.”

And this time it’s you who closes the distance between the two of you. Your hands are on his chest and your lips on his within seconds. Daves hands found your hips and it takes all of your strength to not pull him into your apartment. You can’t. You’ll think about everything what happened in the last hours, but for now you enjoy the plush lips on yours and the scent of the best drug you’ve ever heard of: Dave York.

Part 4

Thanks for reading! 🫶🏼

I’d love to read your comments or reblogs if you like my writing.

[is-she-suffering]

2005 - Trash Pit Magazine

Always one to court attention due to her rag doll in torn dress appearance and quirky off the cuff personality, vocalist Katie Jane Garside has always been the centre of attention in whatever band she has performed in whether she liked it or not. Dropping into the public eye in the early part of the 1990's in Daisy Chainsaw, the band released just one album before Garside disappeared for almost a decade until returning with a new band, Queen Adreena, in 2000. The band have built upon a somewhat cult reputation and now boast an ever growing underground following. Following the release of their new album 'Butcher & The Butterfly', Taz Miller caught up with Garside prior to the bands show at Rock City in Nottingham. 'Taxidermy' and 'Drink Me' were very different albums, how do they compare to 'The Butcher And The Butterfly'? There's a sort of... oh god I don't know how to answer those questions? You know the 'How are you?' questions? I think it's a lot easier to do interviews when they're written down so that I can be foxy with words rather than spontaneous! I don't know what the albums about really, it's just the one that survived. There was a great storm, some things survived and some things were washed away for better or for worse! What are your musical influences? (A humming noise is coming from a fridge in the corner) Sounds like that! The white noise all around us, the sound of the sea, anything around us, the sound of blood pumping through my ears. I mean I have extremely developed tinnitus so I have my own high pitched squeal and that kind of white noise cancels it out. If you cut out the outside noise I think voices, but it's not that. It's too easy to say you hear voices. That's what my influences are anyway, it's just white noise and pulling out external noise and then figure out what it's trying to say whether it's the spirits or the gods or the fucking nut case I don't know! What's your favourite song to perform? Ummm I don't know, I really don't know because it comes and goes. That's a tight rope as well, if you can cut down these external extractions it becomes like some physic ballet and then you can find it, and it you don't find that place it can become a living nightmare like a pendulum blade. What do you like to do outside of your music career? I'm trying to figure that out right now, there has to be another way... there has to be! What did you do before you started singing? I was a child I suppose. My mother and father looked after me and I moved to London when I was 16. I met Crispin when I was 17, and I always did this, always. Being bought up on a boat we had a lot of time to talk to ourselves and sing to ourselves. You've been working with your sister (Melanie Garside - Maplebee) this year how has that been for you? It's been an interesting year. She's gone on to much better things, for her own sanity really! Mel's doing great, she's doing things with the Medieval Babes and her own Maplebee Records so she's a really busy chick, but it was really nice. What is the best thing about being in a band like Queen Adreena? It's damned if you do and damned if you don't. There's a gorgeous seduction about it and it can also get down on you. A cliché question I know but do you get nervous before a show? Yes, I do I think about it before I go out and it's one of the things you get sick of, I get very tired of it. I don't know if I'm confused about the whole process, taking things for granted and things taking you for granted. I found a stack of fan mail and I think as a woman you shouldn't look at that stuff - I found it a bit distorted when I read it. Maybe I'll see you afterwards and tell you how it goes this time, maybe it will make more sense because I've let the fog clear a little bit and I haven't been drinking. That's left a big question mark so I don't know much about nothing right now. I want to go to the beach and look at the sea for a bit - something like that!

Taz Miller

[nerdygaymormon]

Stupid rules of patriarchy & masculinity

We often speak of how patriarchy favors straight cis men by giving them power, and how that harms other groups. Living in patriarchal systems makes it feel normal and natural that men are in charge, that men are the default in positions of power. 

Rarely do we talk about how men also are harmed by patriarchy. There are a lot of rules about how to be a straight man, about how to be masculine. You can flout one or two of these and be okay, but if you break a bunch of them then you’ll get a lot of people trying to correct you and questioning your sexuality. 

“Real” men...

don’t wear pink, or clothes with flower prints

don’t wear fingernail polish

don’t cry

don’t say, “I like your outfit” to their male friends

don’t declare that something “is fabulous”

don’t let their sons sign up for ballet lessons 

don’t talk with their friends about their feelings

aren’t part of the cheerleading squad

don’t hold hands with their good friends

talk about sports instead of what’s going on in their lives

don’t like shopping for clothes

don’t enjoy watching drag queens

keep their wrists straight, never limp

don’t look at their fingernails by extending all their fingers

don’t play with dolls

don’t like chick flicks

don’t knit or crochet or sew

don’t clean the house or do the cooking

don’t sing songs from Broadway musicals

pay for the meal when out to dinner with a woman

don’t eat kale or quiche

don’t do yoga

don’t get mani/pedi’s

don’t go to brunch

don’t wear jeans that are ‘too tight’

don’t have a skin care regimen

don’t shave their legs

don’t exfoliate

don’t drink fruity drinks

don’t say “I love you” to other men

don’t own little dogs

don’t buy flowers for themselves

This is a small list, there’s so many more, and these “rules” aren’t about biology, it’s a random list and it limits men from pursuing hobbies that may interest them and from developing close, intimate relationships. 

One of the great things about being queer is being able to break these rules, we get to explore a bunch of things and find what it is I like

This list of rules makes me think of a scene from the movie The Birdcage where Nathan Lane’s character attempts to pass for a straight man, and it’s obvious despite his best effort, he breaks too many of the rules.

[dreamwatch]

STWG daily drabble - 04/10/23

Prompt: childhood au

warnings: this is ridiculous, consider yourself warned!

I promised I would write something stupid and fluffy today to make up for yesterday’s offering. So here you go!

****

“Eddie, are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be awesome, Uncle Wayne!”

Eddie had been looking forward to this for weeks. It was one of his Uncle’s neighbours that saw him in the trailer park, leaping and diving around, and told Uncle Wayne about the school. How it would be a good place to ‘expend all his energy’. And here they finally were.

Madame Dumont’s Dance Academy.

Eddie dragged Uncle Wayne up the stairs excitedly, desperate not to miss anything. 

“I wonder what music they’ll dance to?” he asked Uncle Wayne. “Do you think it will be like, the Bee Gees? That’s good dancing music.”

Uncle Wayne gave him a confused look. “Um, no son, I don’t think it will be the Bee Gees.”

A pretty lady with her hair all done up in a bun showed them where to go, and they entered a huge room with a wall of mirrors. He couldn’t take the grin off his face, until he noticed how all the girls were dressed the same. Everything was pink. They wore stupid frilly skirts and slippers and what the hell?

“Why are they all dressed like that? And… where are the other boys?”

“Son, this is what I have been saying to you for the last week. There’s different kinds of dancing, and this is ballet, and… this is what they dress like. And they don’t dance to the goddamn Bee Gees.”

“Oh.” He chewed on the inside of his lip, thinking. “Well, I guess we’ll just go home then.”

“Oh no,” said Uncle Wayne. “I’ve paid for six lessons, and you are staying here for six lessons, like it or not.”

“But I don’t want to be the only boy, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie whined.

The tall pretty lady came over to them, giving them a big smile. “Oh, you won’t be, mon cheri, we have a very talented boy who dances with us.” Her eyes searched the room. “Ah, there he is. Steven! Please join us.”

Eddie’s face fell as he watched the boy bounce over to them. Steve Harrington? Godammit. And what was he wearing?

“Steven,” said the pretty lady, “this is…”

Steve shot him a filthy glare. “I know Eddie from school.”

“Well this is wonderful! I know you will be helping Eddie very much. Eddie you cannot be wearing jeans, I will find something for you, one moment.”

Uncle Wayne clapped his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Alright boy, have fun, be good, and I’ll be back to pick—“

“I’m not staying! And I ain’t wearing tights, neither!” He looked right at his Uncle, and what the hell. “It ain’t funny, Uncle Wayne!”

Uncle Wayne just stood there laughing it up, traitor that he was. “I’m sorry, boy, but it kinda is.”

And then he left him. With stupid Steve Harrington.

Steve didn’t look any happier to see Eddie than Eddie was to see him. “Just because you’re in the fourth grade don’t think you can walk in here and boss people around, Eddie. You gotta do what Madame Dumont says, and what I say.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “I ain’t gotta do shit.”

“Who’s this dingus?” 

A girl stomped over and stood beside Steve, arms crossed to mirror Eddie. 

“This is Eddie. He can’t dance and he thinks he’s better than us.”

“I never said that! And I can dance!”

“Oh really,” said the girl, “do you even know what a plié is?”

Eddie scoffed. “Duh, they’re those metal things you strip wires with.”

Steve and the girl doubled over with laughter. “Oh my god,” wheezed Steve, “you’re such an idiot.”

“I’m gonna punch you in your goddamn fat face!”

“Yeah I’d like to see you try!”

The sound of a loud clap broke them apart. “Boys! I will not have arguing in my school! And Robin, I expect better from you.” She handed Eddie a small bag. “Eddie you may change next door, and then straight back please. We have much to learn, mon cheri!”

Eddie skulked away to the little room next door to the dance studio, and pulled open the bag. Tights. And slippers.

“Goddammit!”

He was gonna kill Uncle Wayne.